Книга - Stealing Kisses

Stealing Kisses
Harmony Evans


Life coach Natalie Kenyon helps her famous clients achieve happiness and lasting intimacy in their personal lives. But pro-basketball all-star Derek Lansing isn’t so easy to pin down.His rags-to-riches story takes hold of Natalie’s heart and his first electric touch ignites an irresistible desire. It could be a lose-lose if she becomes the sexy player’s next conquest. Derek is living every athlete’s dream, surrounded by adoring fans and available women. But, he still feels alone. Beneath his freewheeling playboy façade is a man yearning for redemption. As he struggles to get a slam dunk with the stunning, strong-willed Natalie, who is determined to reunite him with his family, he’s forced to relinquish his guard and show her the real man behind the celebrity. As passion brings them closer together, Derek will do what it takes to score a win-win with the woman who’s run off with his most valuable possession–his heart.







Passion’s the greatest score of all…

Life coach Natalie Kenyon helps her famous clients achieve happiness and lasting intimacy in their personal lives. But pro-basketball all-star Derek Lansing isn’t so easy to pin down. His rags-to-riches story takes hold of Natalie’s heart and his first electric touch ignites an irresistible desire. It could be a lose–lose if she becomes the sexy player’s next conquest.

Derek is living every athlete’s dream, surrounded by adoring fans and available women. But he still feels alone. Beneath his freewheeling playboy facade is a man yearning for redemption. As he struggles to get a slam dunk with the stunning, strong-willed Natalie, who is determined to reunite him with his family, he’s forced to relinquish his guard and show her the real man behind the celebrity. As passion brings them closer together, Derek will do what it takes to score a win–win with the woman who’s run off with his most valuable possession—his heart.


She reached over and turned his face toward hers with her palm. His breath rushed out of him with surprise. Her movements were bold, yet her touch was soft and caring.

“Just say what’s in your heart,” she whispered.

When she released his face, his emotions were churning and he felt as if she’d opened his eyes to what had been there all along. He just couldn’t see it.

Without thinking, he cupped his hand around her neck and the world seemed to disappear as he closed his eyes and guided her lips to his. They tasted of ripe peaches, a sun-radiant burst of glorious wonder.

His movements were tentative at first. He wanted to focus on her, rather than on the intense need she drove within him.

The need to devour.

She leaned into him, kissing back unrestrained, and he wanted to shout with joy. The tip of his tongue dipped into her mouth and she groaned. Opened deeper. So he slid inside and discovered a velvety, warm place he wanted to explore forever.

Abruptly, he ended the kiss and leaned back in his seat.

“I just wanted to show you what was in my heart,” he said in a low voice.


HARMONY EVANS

loves writing sexy, emotional, contemporary love stories. Stealing Kisses is her second novel for Harlequin Kimani Romance.

Her debut novel, Lesson in Romance, received 4½ stars from RT Book Reviews. Harmony also earned two prestigious nominations in her first year of publication. She was a “Debut Author of the Year” finalist for the Romance Slam Jam 2013 Emma Awards. In addition, she was a 2012 RT Reviewers’ Choice Awards Double-Finalist (“First Series Romance” and “Kimani Romance”).

Harmony is currently busy penning more novels for Harlequin Kimani. Visit her at www.harmonyevans.com (http://www.harmonyevans.com), on Facebook (https://www.facebook.com/Harmony.Evans.Author), or follow @harmonyannevans (https://twitter.com/HarmonyAnnEvans) for the latest news on upcoming releases.


Stealing Kisses

Harmony Evans






www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


Dear Reader,

I’m fascinated by famous sports stars. Not so much what’s written about them in the headlines, but more by what’s left out.

Derek Lansing is living a dream life. But there’s a price to pay for his rise to fame in the sports world. He’s estranged from his dad and brother—the two people who supported him from the very beginning.

He wants to reunite with them, but pride prevents him from taking the first step. Can he let down his guard and allow life coach Natalie Kenyon help him right his past wrongs before it’s too late? Along the way, Derek and Natalie explore a passion that is powerful, rhythmic and unforgettable.

I hope you enjoy reading Stealing Kisses as much as I enjoyed writing it. I’d love to hear from you. Feel free to email me at harmonyevans@roadrunner.com.

Be blessed,

Harmony Evans


In loving memory of Carol Butler Jackson

(April 20, 1930–June 2, 2012)

I miss you, Mommy. You were always a star to me.


Contents

Chapter 1 (#ua9de6e6e-2fa0-5bb9-b167-0fd843f51542)

Chapter 2 (#u57348b3a-70fb-5baf-aa00-8e03c676fb10)

Chapter 3 (#ufa49a147-3606-5205-b54a-f61b2eefa4cd)

Chapter 4 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 5 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 6 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 7 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 8 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 9 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 10 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 11 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 12 (#litres_trial_promo)


Chapter 1

For the first time in her life Natalie Kenyon wished she was late. The explosive echo of the basketball sounded like a dire warning as she stood inside the New York Skylarks practice court.

Whether it was doing her own taxes or carefully screening any man who wanted to date her, Natalie left nothing to chance, especially where her heart was concerned.

She was always on time and always in control.

The thump-thump of the basketball intensified, reminding Natalie that she was here for one reason: to change Derek Lansing’s life.

She was sure Derek would be like the rest of her clients: wildly successful, yet highly inefficient in their day-to-day lives. As a life coach she advised her A-list clientele on everything from time management and goal-setting to relationships and intimacy. She loved her job and she was good at it.

Then why was her stomach churning as it used to before a big competition? The former professional ice-skater chastised herself for being nervous.

“Ridiculous,” Natalie muttered. “He’s just another client.”

Peering around a row of seats, she caught a glimpse of the popular basketball star and clamped her hand over her mouth in shock.

Derek was shooting baskets with such ferocity it was as though his whole life depended on making every shot. The man was an island. His eyes were totally focused on the net, on the goal.

Yet her eyes were all over him.

He was tall, perhaps six feet six inches, and lean-muscled with rich dark brown skin that glistened with sweat. His shoulder-length jet-black dreadlocks swayed rhythmically with his every movement, teasing her imagination.

When he grabbed the last ball from the cart, he yelled something she couldn’t understand. His legs, powerfully built and tense with virile energy, sprung into the air, seeming to master space and time.

She held her breath, her eyes following the arc of the ball to its final destination. But at the last moment it missed the net, slammed the backboard and bounced to the floor, rolling in her direction.

Derek swung off the rim, landed on the floor, grabbed his knees and howled. The pain in that sound went straight to her heart. She recognized it.

It was the sound of desperation, of a soul cracked wide open and laid bare to an empty room that couldn’t judge, couldn’t laugh.

So this is Derek Lansing, Natalie thought. Number seventeen. Star forward for the New York Skylarks.

She adjusted her purse, checked her watch and smiled. She was right on schedule.

Time to turn his world upside down.

Natalie walked out onto the court and stopped the basketball with the heel of her black stiletto boot.

“Looking for this?” she asked, one hand on her hip to steady herself.

Derek uncurled his body, slow and easy, like a bear emerging from hibernation. He stood still, chest heaving, and her heart raced as his eyes slid down her legs and traveled back up her body.

Under the bright lights, her right eye twitched involuntarily and she realized with horror that he probably thought she was winking at him. She dropped the diva pose and almost lost her balance, but quickly regained it.

He strode over to her, his face like stone.

“This is a private practice. No fans allowed.”

He sounded irritated and she realized he was probably embarrassed that he’d missed the shot.

Yet his eyes, gray and thick-lashed, rounded her face with keen interest. “Not even beautiful ones.”

Warmth flooded her body at his compliment, although she knew he probably didn’t mean it to sound as intimate as it did.

“Where’s the guard?” he muttered, looking over her head toward the door.

She laughed, releasing some of her nervousness. “Do I look dangerous to you?”

His eyes seemed to take possession of her curves as they roamed her body again, leaving a trail of fire.

His lips tilted up. “Depends on which part you’re talking about.”

She crossed her arms over her chest, her stiletto boot barely teetering on the ball. “Excuse me?”

With no response, he pulled up his shirt and she almost fell off the ball again, but he only wiped the sweat from his face.

A rush of desire poured through her at the sight of his abdomen, cut deep with muscles, and she wondered what it would feel like if her tongue were to take a slow ride in the deep valleys of his rich brown skin.

Oh, Lord, it had been so long since she’d touched a man.

She moistened her lips involuntarily just as he stepped forward, gathering his locks into a low ponytail, and her face heated again.

“Well?” he said, peering down at her.

He was so close, only an arm’s length away. The urge to reach out and touch his skin, glistening with sweat, was so strong she barely heard him.

He poked her on the shoulder. “Are you going to give it to me or am I going to have to play you for it?”

Caught off guard, her head snapped up. “What are you talking about?”

Her eyes darted up to his face where amusement danced in his gray eyes.

He pointed at her foot. “How about a little one-on-one?” he teased. “Fan against man.”

Her eyes widened and she looked away. The meeting was not going according to plan. It had been a while since a man had rendered her completely speechless, both in his looks and his manner. He’d thrown her for a loop, but now it was time to get things back under her control.

Trying to avoid looking at his muscular legs, she bent her knees as gracefully as her black pencil skirt would allow and picked up the ball. After adjusting her purse, she placed the ball snugly within the crook of her left arm.

“Mr. Lansing. We have a meeting that was supposed to start—” she checked her watch and frowned “—two minutes ago. I am not a fan and I am most certainly not here to play games. I’m here to discuss the rules of engagement and the clock is ticking.”

Derek placed his hand over his chest, his eyes absorbing hers like a secret told under the covers. “I didn’t know we were getting married,” he replied.

The intimacy in his tone stirred an intense yearning and a long-held dream, neither of which would likely be fulfilled.

Natalie was used to denying her needs to focus on the task at hand, but she was finding it very difficult to concentrate in front of this way-too-gorgeous man.

She lifted her chin. “Not married, Mr. Lansing. Organized. Your manager called me this morning and I came right over. He said you needed a little help.”

Derek burst out laughing. “Wow, when I told Tony I needed a personal assistant, I was just joking. I never thought he’d actually hook me up with one.”

Natalie clutched the ball tighter, bristling inside. “I am not your personal assistant,” she replied in a terse tone. “I am your life coach.”

He clasped his hands loosely on his hips. “What’s the difference?”

She smiled, happy to provide a definition. “Easy. A personal assistant is at your beck and call. She or he runs around doing everything you want. A life coach helps you set goals so you can manage your time and your life more efficiently.”

His doubtful look irked her to the core, so it was time to break it down to brass tacks.

“I’m not your go-for, Mr. Lansing. I’m your lifesaver.”

He raised a brow, and it was clear he was trying not to laugh again.

“Oh-h. Now you’re talking my language. My favorite flavor is orange. What flavor are you?”

She exhaled so hard the ball almost popped out of her grasp. Pushing aside her frustration, she looked into his eyes and nearly smiled at what she saw. One twinkled with mischief, the other with mayhem. Clearly the man enjoyed stirring up a fuss, making her crazy with something she’d rather not think about right now.

“Can you be serious, please?” she huffed, forcing the ball back into place.

He shrugged indifferently and then walked around her in a circle making imaginary free throws.

“How can I be serious when you haven’t even told me your name?”

Now it was her turn to be embarrassed. How could she have forgotten something as simple as an introduction? No wonder things were so out of her control.

“Sorry. I’m Natalie Kenyon,” she said, fishing a business card out of her purse. “I own a company called StarCoach, Inc. I help my clients with time management, organization and motivation.”

He stopped walking and his fingertips leaned against hers for the briefest of moments as he took the card from her grasp. After a quick glance, he stuck it into the waistband of his navy-blue basketball shorts and wrested the ball from her grasp.

“Thanks. But the only thing I need to keep track of is right here in my hands.”

He spun the basketball on his index finger, and kept it going with the other hand. “My whole world revolves around the game. It’s all that matters to me.”

She crossed her arms and, with a twinge of guilt, took aim.

“That’s not what the headlines say.”

Derek flinched and swung his head toward hers. The ball dropped to the floor with a loud twang and he grabbed it before it bounced a second time.

Natalie knew she’d hit a nerve, but sometimes she had to play hard, especially when a client was as stubborn as Derek seemed to be.

“Oh, yeah?” He smirked. “What’s the latest?”

She met his eyes, spoke softly. “That you’re on a three-game suspension for not showing up at morning practices for the past month. You’ve been irresponsible, unfocused and like a different person—both on and off the court.”

Derek bounced the ball a few times, a bored expression on his face.

“They fit all that in a headline?”

She tapped her foot rapidly. As attractive as he was, he was really testing her patience this morning.

“You don’t seem to be taking this situation very seriously,” she said in a calm voice.

He shrugged and bounced the ball again. “Would you?”

“Absolutely,” she said, nodding. In fact, she took everything seriously. It was one of her worst faults. Behind her calm and poised demeanor, she was a bundle of nervous energy that was never satisfied.

His face went hard, but there was pain in his eyes. “Then you must care what people think about you. Thankfully, I don’t have that problem.”

One massive hand palmed the ball and he pointed it at her. “So you can just take your Gucci purse, and all the little motivational brochures you probably got stuffed in there, on down to Wall Street. With this economy, those guys need it more than I do.”

Her heart sank, but she was intrigued rather than dismayed by his attitude. Derek wasn’t a typical A-lister. Instead of soaking up the adoration of his fans, Derek seemed almost resentful of the attention. The psychologist in her wanted to know why.

A memory slashed her brain, rocked her back into the past. She’d been in his place before. Esteemed and highly regarded one minute, forgotten and scorned the next. She could help him before it was too late. If he would only let her.

She took a chance, reached out and touched his arm. It was thick with tension. “I’m not here about me,” she said quietly. “I’m here for you.”

He took a couple of steps back, as if she was offering something that would hurt rather than help him.

The playfulness on his face was gone and his voice was like stone again.

“And I’m here to play ball. No more. No less. And as much as I would love to stand here and stare at that pretty face of yours, I’ve got to get back to the court.”

And with a squeak of his sneaker, he turned and walked away, dribbling the ball and whistling as though he didn’t have a care in the world.

But he wasn’t fooling her. She knew how easy it was to pretend.

Derek was supertalented, handsome and wealthy. But even without a degree in psychology, Natalie could tell that beneath the bad-boy attitude was a man who was in pain. It was clear he would require a different, nontraditional approach to get him on board with her plan.

Checking her watch, she mentally ticked off the to-do items on her schedule for the rest of the day, and decided she could squeeze in some minor inconvenience.

As quietly as she could, she set her purse on the floor and slowly unzipped her boots. After a brief glance around to make sure she was alone, she pulled off her panty hose and unbuttoned the top button of her shirt.

With a quick toe flex, she sprinted like a gazelle toward Derek and stole the ball from him middribble. She rounded him for the layup and, mercifully, the ball went up, over and through the basket.

She caught it and passed it to Derek so hard he nearly dropped the ball. She wanted to laugh out loud at the surprised look on his face.

“What’s the matter?” she teased, shifting her bare feet back and forth, ready to charge forth. “You said you wanted to play one-on-one, didn’t you?”

Derek dribbled the ball a few times and she could tell he was doing his best to appear unruffled by the sudden change in her appearance, and her attitude.

“I thought you were leaving.”

Her toes curled as she felt his eyes move over her bare legs and feet. The ball whizzed through the air and she caught it from him easily.

She crossover-dribbled the ball, keeping her feet planted on the cold wood floor, as she tried to anticipate his next move.

“I never back away from a challenge,” she said, dribbling the ball.

For a moment the only sound in the room was the twang-twang of the basketball bouncing against the floor.

Suddenly, Derek closed the gap between them. But she quickly pivoted out of his reach.

“And I don’t play ball with chicks in skirts. It’s too...” He shook his head and swallowed hard. “Distracting.”

She grinned. “You mean, it’s too easy to lose!”

“Me lose to a girl?” He put his hands on his hips and his sonorous laugh echoed throughout the court. “Are you kidding me?”

She kept a straight face and dribbled the ball until his laughter finally died away.

“You ever play before?” he asked. The wariness in his voice bolstered her false bravado.

She hesitated for a few seconds, feeling a strong urge to just hand over the ball and walk away from him, from the task she was hired to do. What was she thinking going head-to-head in anything, let alone basketball, with one of the NBA’s top forwards?

She huffed out a breath. “I think you know the answer to that,” she chided.

He raised a brow, flexed his fingers. “You got one shot off me, you won’t get another.”

“We’ll see about that,” she countered, although by the look on his face, she knew he was telling the truth. He wasn’t going to go easy on her.

“Half court press,” she said, circling around him. “First one to hit five baskets wins.”

He clapped his hands together, as if he’d already won. “Game on! You might as well start packing up that Gucci bag and crying for your mama.”

My what? she thought, and before she knew what was happening, Derek smacked the ball out of her hand. A few seconds later he made a humongous, swinging-on-the-edge-of-the-net dunk and landed on both feet. Grabbing the ball, he passed it to her as she caught up to meet him.

Her bare feet pounded the floor as she rounded him and then faked him out for a not-so-easy layup.

“One–one. Nice job,” he commented.

The ball bounced once on the floor and Derek grabbed it. She edged toward him until they were practically toe-to-toe and attempted to steal the ball, but he held it high over his head.

“No traveling!” she shouted, reaching for it, knowing there was no way she could grab it. At five feet six inches, she was clearly outmatched. But she kept stretching for it anyway and felt her shirt pull out from the waistband of her skirt. But she didn’t care. Now was not the time for fashion.

She had to win.

If not for him, for herself. To prove that she could compete again and not run away or give up.

He faked her out and dribbled toward the three-point line, where he immediately shot the ball. Natalie watched it arc over her head and drop through the net without kicking up a breeze, which would have been welcome in the hot air.

Derek cupped his hands around his mouth. “He shoots! He scores!” he shouted.

“Don’t rub it in,” she complained as she trotted over to pick up the ball. “Didn’t your mother tell you that was bad sportsmanship?”

“She never had to,” he answered.

She dribbled the ball downcourt.

“Why is that?” she called back to him.

His sneakers screeched to a halt as he caught up to her.

“Because I never lost,” he replied with a toothy grin.

She shot him a hard pass. “You’re impossible!”

“And you’re losing,” he taunted, and then groaned when she immediately stole the ball again.

She pivoted just under the basket. “Not for long,” she said, and sprung for the layup. But it was nothing but rim, and the ball ended back in Derek’s palms.

“You were saying?” he teased. She scowled and stuck out her tongue at him.

Derek broke the tension with some fancy footwork and dribbling á la Harlem Globetrotters that left her doubled over with laughter. He was so charming and playful that she almost forgot she was supposed to be competing against him—a dangerous combination.

In the middle of his antics, she saw an opportunity to smack the ball out of his hands and she did.

Changing direction, she sprinted back toward the basket and grit out a mental prayer. “Please let this one go in, please let this one go in.” She was amazed when the ball sailed through, barely moving the net.

“I’m impressed,” said Derek, grabbing the ball after the first bounce. “Luck is definitely with the lady tonight. It’s all tied up now and it’s anyone’s game. You ready?”

Beads of sweat tickled the base of her spine. “I’m always ready,” she huffed delicately, trying to catch her breath.

He circled around her, dribbling the ball, slow and easy. “Well. Just so you think you’re not just another pretty face who thinks she’s got game...”

He passed her the ball, moved behind her and put his arm around her waist.

“Let’s see how you play defense,” he challenged.

Derek’s powerful body moved with hers in a heated battle for possession of the ball. She bit her lip against the desire that stole her breath away.

Inhaling deeply, she bent her legs to gain more traction, but his iron-hard thighs swished against her backside, throwing her off balance, and she struggled to maintain control of the ball and her senses. Finally she broke away and went east–west, weaving around him.

A second later his hands caught her around the waist and he vaulted her up toward the basket. She slammed the ball into the net, and the next thing she knew her feet were on the ground, and her heart was in her throat.

He spun her around to face him, but he didn’t let go of her.

“You win.”

His voice, low and sweet, tented a cloak of intimacy around them, as if she’d just conquered him in the bedroom rather than on the basketball court.

She gulped back a cry of indignation under his mesmerizing gaze. “B-but you helped me make the basket,” she protested.

His gray eyes lit up with an I-play-for-keeps kind of fire.

“We all need a lift now and then. Don’t you agree?”

Natalie nodded, still a little shocked at how comfortable she’d felt in Derek’s arms. He was her client, so officially he was off-limits. That was a good thing. She never let her heart get in the way of her profession, and she wouldn’t start now.

She met his eyes, hoping he couldn’t see the desire that remained in her own. “Um. The game is over. You can let me go now.”

He dropped his hands, reluctantly it seemed, and led her to a row of courtside seats.

“How’d you learn to play ball like that?” he said, tossing her a towel before grabbing one for himself.

She caught it with one hand. “Thanks. It’s a long story,” she murmured and sat, her heart racing.

He wiped the sweat from his face. “I’d like to hear it sometime.”

The smile on his full lips invited her fantasies, and she tried not to stare at his wet, glistening body, so deep and dark with angles and planes. He was all muscle and bone and length.

She knew she could spend a night, or better yet, a lifetime exploring and never satiate her need to discover him. With effort, she tore her eyes away and checked her watch.

“I don’t think that would be a good idea.”

Derek turned and spread his arms wide. “Why not? Look at me, I’m an open book.”

Her face warmed under his watchful eyes, beckoning her lips to smile in response. She longed to talk to someone about other things besides goal-setting and efficient and organized living.

She had a few close girlfriends, but she rarely confided in them. Since she was a life coach and a former psychologist, they naturally expected her to have all the answers to life’s toughest questions. They didn’t realize that she struggled to make sense of things, too.

While Derek seemed sincere, she couldn’t allow herself to get hurt. Although she’d taken a huge risk and played an innocent game of basketball with him, her heart and her bed were out of bounds.

“I doubt that,” Natalie said. She walked back over to the place where she’d left her stuff lying in a heap.

Derek followed her and she felt his eyes on her as she bent to zip up her stiletto boots, ignoring the outstretched arm he offered to help her balance. She slipped on her now-wrinkled suit coat and dropped her panty hose into her purse.

He touched her arm, leaving it pulsating with heat in the wake of his touch. “But what about the rules of engagement?”

Her heart raced anew and she was unnerved that he’d remembered, let alone repeated, something she’d said earlier.

She clutched at her belongings, glad to have something to hold on to. “I’ll meet you at your house at 8:00 a.m. sharp tomorrow.”

He nodded. “It’s a date.”

She didn’t respond. Unconsciously she just wanted to savor the sound of his voice, tantalizing her imagination, hinting at promise and pleasure. In his eyes, she saw unmitigated need and unyielding desire.

As she turned and walked off the practice court, only one thing was on her mind. Could he possibly feel those emotions for her? Or had she only seen herself reflected in his gray eyes?


Chapter 2

The next morning, the taxi taking Natalie to Derek’s Brooklyn apartment snaked through rush-hour traffic. Frustrated drivers honked horns and shouted out car windows. Yet she was so focused on the task before her that she barely heard any of it.

Although her initial research was complete and all of the necessary arrangements had been made, being efficient didn’t erase the knots in her stomach. Convincing Derek to go along with her plan wouldn’t be easy, but she knew it was the only way to help him get his life back on track.

When they finally arrived, her mouth fell open. Derek was sitting on the front stoop reading a newspaper. Waiting for her.

She paid her fare, stepped out of the taxi and slammed the door, half wishing she could jump back in and go home.

He looked up and folded the paper. “You’re late,” he chided.

His eyes tumbled over her body and her face flushed hot with embarrassment. She was never late for a client meeting or anything else for that matter.

She gulped in a breath. “I’m sorry. Will you forgive me?”

He crossed his arms on his knees, a slight smile upon his lips. “That depends on the excuse.”

She hesitated. The “I got caught in traffic” line wouldn’t fly, especially since she was supposed to be a pro at managing time. But she couldn’t tell him the entire truth, either.

How she’d tossed and turned all night, remembering the feel of his massive body brushing against hers during their playful game of one-on-one. The sensual instant replay had eventually lulled her to sleep.

Yet when she’d woken up, bleary-eyed and aroused, she’d almost called Derek’s manager to tell him to find someone else. All because of a six-letter word that starts with D and ends with heartbreak:

Desire.

Muscles, hard and lean, twisted out of his sleeves. His eyes caught her looking and his smile widened.

“Well?”

Her face heated again. Keep your mind on the mission, not on his body.

“I overslept,” she blurted. That was the truth, although she still couldn’t quite believe it herself. She never slept late, not even on holidays. There was nothing, or no one, to keep her in bed past 5:00 a.m.

Derek tossed the paper aside. “I’m not surprised.”

“Excuse me?” she said, trying not to sound offended.

He leaned back on one elbow. “Playing basketball in bare feet had to be tough.”

His eyes rambled over her shoulders, down her turquoise sundress and settled on her legs.

He whistled low. “But, girl, you’ve definitely got game.”

The exposed areas of her skin tingled as she stared at him with a mix of pleasure and astonishment.

Derek had every right to be angry, especially after her little speech about time management and organization. Yet he was clearly flirting with her.

Why?

More troubling was the fact that she enjoyed it—a dangerous way to feel. She decided it was best to ignore his comment, and her growing attraction to him.

“Nevertheless, it’s unacceptable and—”

“Unpredictable.” He cut her off and flashed a brilliant smile. “I like it.”

She choked back a laugh. As someone who alphabetized every spice and canned good in her kitchen, she was the least unpredictable person on the planet. It was just another indication that he wasn’t her type. Not that she cared, she reminded herself.

“Just do me a favor,” he continued. “The next time you’re going to be late, at least give me a call.”

He was right. “I’m sorry,” she admitted. “But I just assumed you’d be sleeping and that I’d have to get you out of bed when I got here.”

He chuckled and held up his hands. “Whoa, not on the first date!”

She blew out a breath and put her hands on her hips. “Mr. Lansing, this is not a date, and quite frankly, I don’t think I need to remind you why I’m here.”

Derek’s amused expression turned grim. “You’re right.”

He tucked the newspaper under his arm, stood and opened the door.

She stepped inside and he led her to a freight elevator that had a huge basketball with the number seventeen painted on it.

“A housewarming gift from my neighbor,” he said, punching in a code. His voice suddenly dropped to a whisper. “He’s an artist. I guess he thought I’d forget my own number.”

She stifled a laugh as the doors opened with a monstrous squeal. After they were both inside, Derek slid the heavy metal gate closed with ease.

The elevator began its slow, creaky ascent. Silence stretched between them. Yet something crackled, too.

Neither understood nor acknowledged it, but it was still there, manifested in the way he leaned against the wall, inviting her eyes to take in the length of his legs and her hands to take hold of the brute strength she knew lay beneath the loose-fitting navy-blue athletic pants. It dared her nose to inhale deeply the hint of spicy cologne in the air, knowing it would make her hunger even more for the man who wore it.

Time stood still. Suspended by that delicious bubble of heat neither hoped would break.

Suddenly the elevator lurched to a stop and Natalie lost her balance. She grabbed hold of Derek’s outstretched hand and he pulled her into his arms where she landed with her cheek nestled against the tight fabric of his T-shirt. In his tight embrace, her heart flipped so loudly in her chest she was sure he could hear and feel it.

“This elevator has a mind of its own,” he explained. “I should have warned you. Are you okay?”

She looked up, touched by the concern in his gray eyes. “Yes, I’m just a little startled, that’s all.”

He nodded. “Still, it needs to be fixed.” His full lips parted into a warm smile. “But today I’m kind of glad it wasn’t.”

Was it her imagination or did his embrace get even tighter?

He seemed to be waiting for her to respond and she wanted to say, “Me, too,” but she remained silent. Yet there was no mistaking the rush of disappointment she felt when he released her and pulled open the gate.

He bowed slightly and Natalie giggled. “Come on in. I’ll make it up to you with a cup of my famous café au lait.”

“Ooh-la-la,” she joked, her footsteps echoing on the shiny hardwood floor as she followed him.

His converted warehouse apartment was immense. Floor-to-ceiling windows spanned one side of the room, bathing it in gorgeous sunlight. The furniture consisted of a huge flat-screen television, a large leather sectional, a couple of end tables and some modern lamps that, due to all the natural light, probably only got used at night or on rainy days.

Derek tossed the paper onto the sparkling granite countertop and pulled out a high-backed chair.

“Have a seat.”

She slipped her purse strap around the back. “Thanks.” Derek remained by her side until she was seated, which she thought was a nice gesture. Yet, when he moved to the other side of the counter, she was oddly relieved. Being in his arms those few minutes had spurned a mini whirlpool of desire within her and she knew that she couldn’t do anything about it.

She watched him prepare the coffee to distract herself. As he poured the milk into the steamer, his movements were unhurried, graceful, and she began to relax.

It was almost as though he was taking care of her because he felt a need to, rather than simply being hospitable. The feeling was comfortable and she leaned back and exhaled lightly, wondering what it would be like to sit here with him every morning, watching him making coffee, after a night of lovemaking.

His eye caught hers and he winked. It was almost as if he could read her mind and a blush spread over her cheeks.

Natalie glanced around. “Your apartment is nice.” She hesitated. “Did you just move in?”

Derek shook his head, his voice slightly raised over the sounds of the coffee machine. “No, I’ve been living here since I signed with the Skylarks three years ago.”

He poured two mugs of coffee, then topped both off with the steamed milk. When he set one mug down, her nostrils twitched as she lightly inhaled the rich aroma.

“With all the traveling we do during the season,” Derek continued, “I’m just not around that much.”

His shoulders rolled back, as if he was trying to loosen some imaginary knots, but the subtle hitch in the tone of his voice was real. She had to explore it, if only to guide him to a place where he could begin to trust her.

“Being on the road so much must be hard. My clients complain about that all the time,” she said, empathizing. “This place is huge. Maybe it needs some more furniture or something. So it won’t feel so...um...empty when you come home.”

Derek furrowed his brow and looked past her into the living room. “It doesn’t look empty to me. I’ve got my top-of-the-line TV, a custom-built couch and the remote.” His eyes settled back on hers. “What more could a man want after a long trip?”

She shrugged and slid her mug closer, debating whether to take another sip under his gaze. It was watchful, curious and just plain sexy. Yet he seemed totally unaware of her at the moment and instead appeared to be pondering her question seriously.

Suddenly, Derek picked up both coffee mugs and put them aside. “But in a way, though, I think you may be right.” He leaned both elbows on the counter. “This place is missing something.”

Derek inched closer, his head and eyes nearly parallel now with hers. Natalie held her breath, trying not to focus on his full lips and strong jaw threatening her ability to remain aloof.

“It needs a woman’s touch,” he teased. “Interested?”

His steel-gray eyes had a hint of fire in them. But there was no question that the rest of him, from his locks down to his toes, was smoking hot.

Interested? She’d be a fool not to be, and an even bigger fool to fall for his charm and good looks.

This is business, she reminded herself as she picked up her mug and leveled her eyes at him.

Steam from the hot liquid rose between them, tickling her nose. Her lower abdomen pulsed with the tension of desire.

Derek didn’t move. Neither did Natalie.

She swallowed hard. His eyes immediately flicked down to trace the curve of her neck and her throat went dry. She’d always had a hate/curse relationship with her long neck, but the way Derek was looking at it made her wish it was even longer.

Although she was flattered by his interest, the man was making her feel things that could only hurt her in the end.

“I’m not available,” she said, her voice flat.

And she wasn’t. To any man.

Getting her heart broken was not on her to-do list.

His arms squeaked against the counter like fingernails scratching down a chalkboard as he stood. His back was ramrod-straight and he didn’t say a word. It was clear she’d hurt him and that surprised her. She knew his reputation. It wasn’t as if he didn’t have other options for female companionship. It shouldn’t even matter that she’d rejected him.

Then why did she get the sense that it did?

Time to change the subject.

She took another sip of the coffee.

“Ooh-la-la is right. This is heavenly.” She sighed. “By far the best café au lait I’ve ever tasted.”

The smile returned to his face, although her heart was heavy with the knowledge that when he heard what she was about to say, it wouldn’t last long.

“I thought you’d like it,” he responded. “Now that I’ve been benched for the next few days, I’ve got a lot of time on my hands.”

He rubbed his palms together as if he were formulating a devious plan. “So what’s on the agenda first? I’ve got a mountain of basketball shoes sitting in the middle of my closet just dying to be organized. One of the reasons I think I’m late in the morning is because I can never find shoes that match.”

She flipped open her notebook. “That’s not quite what I had in mind.”

He frowned as he stirred some sugar into his coffee. “O-kay. Maybe we can go shopping for a couple of new alarm clocks that have really annoying rings. The one on my phone obviously isn’t enough to wake me up.”

She crossed her legs to steady her nerves, aware of his eyes on them as he sipped his coffee.

“Actually, we’re going to see your father.”

Derek clattered his mug against the granite countertop. “What are you talking about?”

Her heart lurched at the sudden change in his demeanor. The hard stare he gave her now was a far cry from the way he’d been looking at her moments earlier.

She shifted in her seat. “I’m talking about making things right with your family, especially your dad.”

He flattened his palms on the counter.

“How did you find out about him?” he demanded. “I thought you were a life coach, not a private detective.”

She kept her voice calm. “I do background research on all my clients, and it’s amazing what you can find archived on the internet. The newspaper articles are all there and—”

He cut her off with a wave of his hand. “My dad doesn’t want anything to do with me. Trust me.”

“I think the opposite is true,” she ventured.

His eyes narrowed. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t think you want anything to do with him.”

He said nothing, yet something seemed to deflate within him.

“As I was saying, there are tons of articles about your rags-to-riches success story on the web, but your family is rarely mentioned.”

“So?” he challenged. “I thought you were here to help me get off the bench and back on the basketball court where I belong, not poke around where you don’t belong.”

She understood his anger, but she wasn’t going to let herself be deterred by it.

“I’m here to help you in any way I can,” she replied.

Derek walked around the counter, sat on the chair opposite her and crossed his arms. “Well, you can start by leaving my past out of it.”

She shook her head. “I’m sorry. I can’t do that.”

He leaned forward. “Why not?”

She met his eyes and kept her voice firm.

“Sometimes when people have unresolved issues in their past, it can affect their lives in the present, as well as the future. No matter how successful they become, there’s always something missing.”

She knew that feeling all too well. It was something she struggled with every day.

He waved her comment away and crossed his arms over his massive chest. “That sounds like some kind of self-help mumbo jumbo, Dr. Kenyon.”

She took in a sharp breath and brought her hand to her mouth.

“Don’t look so shocked that I did a little investigation of my own,” he advised.

She said nothing for a moment, preferring to forget about that part of her life. A time when she’d tried to start over, and failed miserably.

“Actually, I’m glad to hear that you did a little digging on your own,” she said, recovering quickly. “It shows you’re highly invested in doing things in your life differently.”

“Or it could show that I’m highly interested in you,” he added, watching her for her reaction.

Her heart fluttered, yet she managed to keep her expression calm and her voice light. “I’d heard you were a huge flirt, Derek. You don’t have to prove it to me.”

His brows knit together and she sensed he was disappointed with her response. What had he expected her to say? Her interest in him was strictly professional and her fantasies were hers alone.

“Do you remember Jamal Carter?” The former NBA star turned heroin addict had been her last patient in her short-lived second career as a psychologist.

Her insides quaked at the memory of their counseling sessions. Some of the stories Jamal had told her about growing up in one of the fiercest projects in Brooklyn still haunted her. Despite his wealth and success, he could never get past all the pain he’d experienced as a child.

She’d quit practicing psychology soon after his death from suicide. Even though she knew it wasn’t her fault, not a day went by when she didn’t ask herself if she could have done or said something to prevent it. Questions that would forever remain unanswered.

Derek ran a hand through his locks and looked uncomfortable. “Of course I remember him. He grew up in the same projects I did. I was brought in to replace him on the team after he died. You were Jamal’s therapist?”

She nodded. “I counseled Jamal for a few months before he died. He was an incredibly gifted and successful athlete. But his past ultimately destroyed him.”

He crossed his arms. “That’s not going to happen to me,” he insisted, looking away.

She hated the prideful tone in his voice, yet she knew it wasn’t the result of arrogance. The man was wealthy, yet he didn’t flaunt it like some of her other clients. There was something that mattered more to him than money and whatever it was, she had a feeling it scared him more than he wanted to admit.

“Don’t you see, Derek? It is already starting to happen!”

He lowered his head, refusing to look at her even when she slid off the chair and stood next to him.

“Your playing has been off-kilter for months, you’ve been suspended right before the most important games of the season and your reputation in the media has taken a major hit.”

“I know,” he muttered, running his hand down his face. “I can’t seem to get it together. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

Natalie smiled inwardly, secretly pleased he didn’t deny what was happening to him, even if he didn’t know what it was.

On the flip side, it made Derek even more attractive to her. He was less of an untouchable sports celebrity and ultimately more human.

“Do you really think seeing my family is going to help?” He lifted his head. “I haven’t spoken to my dad or my brother in over ten years. Not since high school,” he murmured. “Can you believe that?”

The shame in his voice curdled in her ear. It was so real and so familiar that she just wanted to bolt. But perhaps it was time for her to stop running. Sometimes her faith and her inner drive to succeed, no matter the consequences, were the only things that kept her going.

She forced her voice steady. “You can do this. I’ll help you.”

He shook his head again. “No, Natalie.” Derek’s voice was firm. “I haven’t seen them in years. It will never work.”

“Only because you won’t let it,” she charged, even though she knew she should be more patient. The stubborn determination in his eyes upset her because it could only mean one thing: his mind was made up.

She turned away and grabbed her purse. Why couldn’t he see that this was for the best? Even worse, why did she care so much? So soon? She had that irrefutable feeling in the pit of her stomach that made her want to dive into his muscular arms and never come up for air.

“Thanks for the coffee,” she snapped. For reasons she knew she’d analyze to death later on, she was deeply hurt by his rejection of her plan. “I’ll let Tony know that we won’t be working together.”

Her heels tapped out a brisk rhythm as she walked to the elevator.

As she was searching for the down button, Derek placed one arm against the wall and turned her around to face him. Her breath came out in a rush of surprise.

“There’s a security code,” he reminded her.

“So why don’t you punch it in, so I can leave,” she retorted.

He didn’t move.

Behind his gray eyes: pure pain.

Between their bodies: pure heat.

“Look. I hurt a lot of people when I was coming up. My family mostly. And you’re right. I need someone to walk through this with me.” He stepped a little closer. “Someone who doesn’t want anything personal from me.”

Natalie’s heart plummeted and bottomed out in frustration. Mostly at herself for thinking the spark she’d felt between them yesterday and this morning was more than just a bunch of molecules colliding together.

Derek wouldn’t be the first person who hadn’t bothered to look beneath her expensive clothes and runway-model looks. No one but she knew that she existed within a carefully crafted persona, designed over the years to avoid being hurt by anyone.

She’d given up on the dream to be loved for who she was a long time ago.

Nothing personal, huh?

Fine. She could keep it real. Real superficial.

Besides, keeping it casual was just the way she liked all her relationships to be, business or otherwise. She hadn’t been called “Ice Queen” back in her skating days for nothing.

She met his eyes and plastered on a confident smile that belied her true feelings. “All I want is to get you back on that court. And that’s exactly what I’m going to do.”

He ran a thumb along her jawline and she shivered at the gentleness of his touch.

“Is that a promise?”

She had a feeling that despite his imposing presence and competitive spirit, there was a soft and tender side to him that was rarely seen. She was always a sucker for teddy bears, especially a big, hard-muscled one like Derek.

She tilted her head, trying not to lose her professional composure. “You want to play me for it?” she challenged, not realizing that her voice had dropped to a low whisper.

He moved even closer and put his other hand against the wall where she leaned, barely able to breathe. She was trapped, although not unpleasantly, in a dual firestorm of will.

Her nose twitched. Something that sometimes happened when she got nervous or excited. In this unusual situation, she was both.

“So, what’s in it for you?”

His question hit her rock-square in the gut. It wasn’t the money she’d make, that meant nothing to her. Instead she thought of Jamal, her grandparents and her parents. All gone now. Nothing left for her but memories, dead dreams and wishes for more time.

How does one explain all that?

Yet, for the first time in a long time, she felt hope.

Her eyes met his and her voice was strong. “A chance to see a family come together instead of being torn apart.”

Derek punched in the security code and slid the elevator door open. “I’ll have a car pick you up this evening.”

There it was again. The alluring sound in his voice making her skin tingle in all the places it shouldn’t.

But how to resist the rest of him? The hair she longed to twist around her finger, the broad shoulders she wanted to trace, the full lips that looked too delicious not to kiss. She certainly couldn’t work with a blindfold on her face.

She nodded, but didn’t say anything else as she entered the elevator. When she turned around, their eyes locked and she froze, not in fear, but in anticipation. As she descended to the ground, she hoped she wouldn’t pay for digging into his past with her heart.


Chapter 3

Derek felt a sensual hunger unlike any he’d ever known at the sight of Natalie stepping out of the limousine. She could have melted the tar right out of the tarmac as she walked toward him with those long legs and curves that could drive a man crazy and make him lose himself, or worse, his independence.

At age twenty-nine staring down the hard-nosed barrel of thirty, he was rich beyond his wildest dreams playing the game he’d loved ever since he was a young boy growing up in the notorious Pinecrest projects. He’d made it. He’d beaten the system all but designed to shackle him.

Yet the only thing he didn’t have was what he wanted most of all: a family, with a woman he could call his own.

Playing pro basketball for most of the year and doing intense training during the off-season wasn’t exactly conducive to a mortgage on a house in the suburbs with a picket fence and a couple of kids, or a commitment to one woman for more than an evening.

His playboy rep in the league was only an excuse for the truth. A real woman, one like Natalie perhaps, wouldn’t want more than a night with him anyway, if she knew how he’d treated his own flesh and blood during his rise to the top.

He found himself standing even taller when Natalie finally reached him.

A breeze ruffled her short black hair, shorn into a pixie cut, and he noticed she was shivering, despite the warm evening temperature.

She clamped her hands over her small ears. “Why didn’t you tell me we were flying?” she shouted over the noisy din of a plane taking off.

He took one hand away from her ear and leaned in close. Her scent, warm apricots and vanilla, made him wish he could get even closer.

He gestured to the sleek aircraft in front of him and smiled. “Do you like her?”

Although the smile she returned was gracious, her eyes flicked around, seeming to take in every detail of his beloved private plane. Something was bothering her and he needed to find out what it was.

After a few moments, when it was quieter, she jerked her chin at him. “I like her, but I’d rather drive.”

Was she kidding? Baker’s Falls was only an hour away by plane. In his mind, the only way to travel was by plane.

He stepped back with a mock look of chagrin. “Then I guess you don’t want the bottle of Dom Pérignon I have on ice.”

She pointed to the cap on top of his head. “You know I think they have laws against pilots drinking while flying, or at least they should!” she exclaimed.

He reached for her arm and gave it a gentle squeeze to reassure her.

“Take it easy. I was just kidding. I would never put my passengers in harm’s way.”

She visibly relaxed, but only a little, and he wondered why she seemed so uptight. Nervous even. Was she regretting the decision to help him?

“But I will give you a rain check on that Dom, if you promise not to look at me cross-eyed.” He winked.

She frowned and seemed not to hear him.

Since his attempt at comedy to make her feel more at ease was a dismal failure, he decided to try a third alternative: being the perfect gentleman. Not that he wasn’t normally. He was just out of practice.

When he’d first started playing professional basketball, he’d tried the booty-call-in-every-state thing. It had been fun for a while and the sex was a welcome release, but the hassle and drama eventually cancelled out any pleasure.

So one day he’d decided to quit the scene—cold-turkey style. Despite the pressure from his teammates, he’d stopped going out after games and instead returned to his apartment or hotel room and watched television.

He’d been flying solo so long he’d forgotten what it was like to put someone else’s needs ahead of his own.

Now, his whole future depended on it.

Shame burned in his gut, but he ignored the pain and offered Natalie his hand.

“We’re almost ready to take off.”

Her fingers, slightly clammy, latched on to his a little tighter than he expected, but he didn’t complain. He liked the feel of her small hand in his and a part of him wanted to tug her closer.

He opened the passenger’s-side door of the single-engine plane.

“All aboard,” he called out, subtly watching her black designer jeans stretch like hands across the curves of her backside as he assisted her inside. The smooth and elegant way she slid into the passenger seat made him instantly hard.

The mundane task of stowing her luggage helped put the pause button on his libido. Afterward, he sat in the pilot’s seat and offered her a pair of headphones. When she refused, he put them on and began making the final preparations for takeoff.

He knew every button and dial on the instrument panel. Normally they calmed him, but today he was nervous. He wasn’t looking forward to this journey, and deep down he was afraid. He wasn’t sure what type of reaction he was going to receive when he returned to Baker’s Falls.

Natalie turned her heart-shaped face to his, and he was suddenly lost in her beauty and the memory of how he’d felt earlier that morning.

The moment the elevator doors had closed, a mix of emptiness and wonder had filled his heart. He wasn’t so out of touch that he didn’t recognize his feelings as loneliness...and lust.

Looking at Natalie now, he realized she could be the perfect antidote for both. She was the kind of woman who could change a man. Make him better than he was before, and that scared him more than anything.

Her eyes narrowed. “Derek, did you hear me? What time will we land?”

“Sorry.” He cleared his throat. “We’ll be there in about an hour or so.”

Back to good old Baker’s Falls. The town where he’d made the choice that changed the course of his life forever.

“Seat belt on, please,” commanded Derek as he buckled his own. “I’m about to put her in the air.”

Natalie held on to the right armrest so tightly Derek could see her veins, while her left hand was balled into a fist. She stared out the window and seemed ready to jump from the plane at any minute.

Yesterday, by stepping out on the court and playing ball with him, Natalie showed a kind of devilish moxie rarely displayed in any of the women he knew.

But right now, she seemed downright terrified.

He switched his headset to mute, so air traffic control wouldn’t be able to hear his conversation.

“Natalie, are you okay?”

She didn’t answer. He reached over and touched her chin, so she would face him.

“Have you ever flown in one of these before?”

Her lips quivered and her soft brown eyes were glazed with fear.

“No,” she whispered. “To tell you the truth, I’m afraid of flying.”

Whoa. He pressed his back against the leather seat. He nodded slowly to buy time, unsure of what to say to appease her fears. In all of his travels, he’d never met anyone who was afraid to fly.

He placed his hand over hers. “If it makes you feel any better, I’m a highly trained pilot. I’ve had my license for over five years now.”

She didn’t look convinced. “I see. Does the number of years of experience in flying translate the same as the number of years of experience in driving?”

“Not really,” he replied. “Pilots have to fly hundreds of hours more than drivers need to drive before they get their license,” he explained. “There are also a ton of tests and other stuff you have to do before you can even go up in the air.”

He watched her eyes sweep over the complex instrumentation on the plane’s dashboard. She seemed overly nervous and he held out his hand to comfort her. His heart squeezed in his chest when she kept her hands in her lap, bound together in a tight fist. A clear refusal of his advances.

“Flying is much safer than driving. You have nothing to worry about.”

Her shoulders sagged and it occurred to him that his response was insensitive. Once again, he’d proved he had a knack for saying the wrong thing at precisely the wrong time.

Right now though, as much as he wanted to, he didn’t have time to explore her fears. He had to get his plane up in the air before it was grounded and he was fined by the FAA.

“I’m sorry you’re afraid,” he said, trying again. “I’m afraid of hot tubs and—”

To his surprise, she started to laugh. “Are you serious?”

He nodded, and his body shuddered involuntarily from head to toe with disgust. “Do you know how many germs are in those things?”

Their laughter ebbed away and again he reached for her hand, so small in his own. He ran his thumb over her knuckles, calming her gently in the only way he knew how, as her eyes danced with his at the root of desire.

This time she didn’t pull away.

“Ready to touch the sky?”

She nodded, and her smile was braver now, and somehow it managed to make her even more beautiful.

“I’d keep holding your hand, but I think it’s better to keep both hands on the steering wheel.”

He forced himself to look away from Natalie and switched his microphone live. After a few instructions from air traffic control, he started to taxi the plane down the runway, his brow furrowed with concentration.

Outside the cockpit, the world blurred and his heart quickened in wild anticipation as the plane sped faster and faster until the nose lifted into the twilight and everything around them fell away.

He broke out in a light sweat, exhilarated by the rush that fueled what some considered a crazy hobby. Being up in the air was one of his favorite places to be. With Natalie at his side, it felt more right than ever before.

When it was safe to do so, he glanced over at her. Eyes tightly shut, her hands gripped the armrests, the crescent of her breasts hidden under her lace-trimmed tunic. He pressed his lips together. Something deeper and more potent than simple concern washed over him.

For a moment he imagined her eyes were shut due to overwhelming pleasure, not fear. The urgent feel of her hands anchored to him as his tongue traveled across the silk of her skin in the ultimate road trip.

“Open your eyes, Natalie,” he coaxed, his voice low with a need he knew was just beginning. “You’re missing the view.”

Her eyes flickered open and she stared ahead openmouthed. Wide stripes of burnished orange laced with muted pink encircled them. She dropped her hands from the armrests.

“Oh, Derek, it’s breathtaking!” she exclaimed. “I never thought flying could be this beautiful.”

I think she’s going to be okay.

His heart soared with joy and relief as he watched her gaze out the window.

She turned to him, her eyes shining with delight. “Is this why you like to fly?”

His eyes moved across her tawny-brown skin, the color of fall acorns, glowing in the radiance of the sunset.

“I get to touch heaven,” he replied, nodding. “There’s nothing else like it.”

He didn’t bother mentioning the other reasons.

Up here he was away from the constant pressure to perform and the daily stress of maintaining his lifestyle. The sky was like a blank slate and he imagined that all his past mistakes were erased, or at least hidden among the clouds.

Until wheels touched ground and the cold reality hit hard.

Nothing about his life had changed.

She wouldn’t understand anyway.

The woman who made it her business to run other people’s lives probably ran her own with clocklike precision. On the other hand, he’d had no trouble making a mess out of his own.

Still he pushed aside the anguish that dogged his conscience, refusing to entertain any more doubts. This time, when he landed, things would be different. Not right away, he realized, but soon.

Natalie fluffed her hair. “I can imagine flying must be an expensive hobby.”

Her practical tone reminded him of his accountant. He’d warned Derek not to buy the plane, citing ongoing maintenance, fuel, storage and security costs, but he did it anyway.

“It is,” he admitted, trying not to sound defensive. “But you know every man has to have a few toys.”

As the words flew out of his mouth he realized how immature they sounded. He was living a life many dreamed of, but few achieved, yet what did he have to really show for it? Who did he have to share it all with?

“Where’d you grow up?” he asked.

Her voice was shy. “You’re not going to believe this,” she replied. “Park Avenue.”

“Really?”

She nodded. “My parents were both surgeons at Lenox Hill Hospital, and they were the first African-Americans to purchase an apartment in our co-op,” she said, her face beaming with pride.

“Well, my parents were one of the first to move out of Pinecrest. My brother Wes, my dad and I moved to Baker’s Falls at the beginning of my freshman year in high school.”

He paused a moment, waiting for her to ask about his mother, but she didn’t. He breathed a sigh of relief.

“So I guess we do have something in common.”

“What’s that?” she asked.

“Parents who cared enough to take a risk for the sake of their kids.”

She turned away, seeming to fold inside herself, and was quiet. Just like that, the easy camaraderie they’d shared was gone and he knew he’d said something wrong again.

He rubbed a hand down his face and swore inwardly. Flying a plane was so much easier than understanding a woman.

Suddenly there was a loss of elevation.

Natalie screamed and clutched the armrests. “What was that?”

The sound raked his ears and he gritted his teeth. “Air pocket,” he explained. “Nothing to worry about.”

“Tell that to my stomach,” she moaned, pointing to it.

He glanced at her quickly, and her eyes were lidded as she leaned her head against the tiny window.

Oh, man. He thought dealing with a fear of flying was bad, but a nauseated woman was much, much worse. If he was ever lucky enough to get married, he’d be a blubbering idiot when his wife got pregnant and started running to the bathroom every morning.

The image terrified him. He cleared his throat. “Barf bags are under the seat.”

She clucked her tongue at him. “Gross! I would never do that in front of a guy,” she insisted, her face ashen. “No matter how sick I felt.”

He breathed out a slow sigh of relief. “I’m glad to hear it, but I thought I’d inform you, just to be on the safe side.”

“Thanks,” she replied. “But I won’t be needing them.”

Derek scanned the instrumentation panel and spoke with air traffic control, who informed him that the winds had shifted from south to northwest.

They bumped along for a few more minutes as Derek struggled to keep the plane steady and his image intact. He’d made it his mission in life to avoid showing weakness to anyone—his opponents, his teammates, but especially women.

He winced when Natalie squealed with fright so loudly the sound bounced off every surface of the cockpit.

“Are you sure you know how to fly this thing?” she screamed.

“Don’t worry,” he soothed, keeping his eyes on the horizon and wishing he could kiss her fears away instead. “I’ll take care of you. I promise.”

Just then, the ride smoothed out and he blew out a breath. He turned to Natalie and gave her a triumphant smile.

“You see? Nothing to worry about. My father taught me to never break a promise. I can’t let anything happen to all that beauty.”

A smile feathered across Natalie’s face, and Derek was thankful she took his compliment in stride. He figured that with her looks, she’d probably heard it all. A beautiful woman like her had to have a boyfriend.

Even so, she seemed like the type of woman who chose her man the way she did her diamonds—wisely and with much examination. Would he ever make the cut? Did he even want to?

Natalie crossed her arms and gave him a questioning look, as if she were trying to figure out if he really meant what he’d said and why.

“I’ll feel better when my feet are on solid ground.”

“I understand,” he said with a nod. He glanced over at her to make sure her seat belt was still fastened. “I’m in the process of making our descent now.”

The plane broke through the clouds. The landscape below was laid out like a patchwork quilt. Green countryside and open fields gave way to suburbia and strip malls.

“Touchdown,” he muttered as he made a perfect landing, likely the most important one in his life.

When the plane rolled to a stop, Natalie leaned over and pecked him on the cheek. Her soft lips were kindle for the fire he was starting to feel for her, and he resisted the urge to pull her onto his lap. He couldn’t remember the last time he was this hard. The woman was kicking it in all the right places.

He remembered how her breasts had moved as she’d tried to hustle him when they’d played ball. The beads of sweat on her forehead and in the small place at the base of her neck. Lifting her up to make that basket was like grasping a cloud that had a tornado at its root. She was soft and supple on the outside. Undeniably wild at the core.

He wanted to know more about her. And over the next few days she would get to know him—the real Derek. Not the guy who’d won MVP his first year in the NBA. Not the guy they loved to trash-talk on ESPN SportsCenter. Not the guy who became a millionaire several times over at age eighteen.

When this was all over, would she still look at him the same way she was now?

“Thank you for getting us here safely. I can see now that you are a man of your word.”

She had no way of knowing that the opposite was true.

He’d betrayed them all. His dad, his brother and, most of all, himself. All for the glory of the game.

And look where it got you, he thought.





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