Slamdunked By Love (One on One #2) Page 13

  “We are, especially now that you’re here,” Whitmore said, eyeing the waitress up and down.

  Brady rolled his eyes. Save me from twenty-two-year-olds trying to run game. He relaxed against the leather couch and observed the action. A mass of bodies writhed on the dance floor. His teammates weren’t into observing. They all, with the exception of Tilly, downed the drinks the waitress brought and then abandoned him to dance and soak in the attention that came from being a pro athlete.

  “Man, you were on fire tonight,” Tilly said.

  Brady shrugged. “Just doing what I can.”

  Tilly side-eyed him. “Don’t try to kid a kidder. You wanted to kill them tonight.”

  Brady sipped his drink. “That might have entered my mind a time or two.”

  Tilly grinned. “That’s what I thought. Now you can sit here all night, but there are women calling my name.” He cupped his ear. “Can’t you hear them? Tilly, Tilly, Tilly. See you later.” He hopped up and headed for the crowded dance floor.

  Brady nursed his drink and bobbed his head to the music. He wished Caitlin were here with him. He never failed to have fun when she was around. He definitely wouldn’t mind watching her move that fantastic body of hers on the dance floor. Against him. Wherever they happened to be.

  “Hey, Brady.” Elise plopped down on the couch next to him.

  Fuck.

  How had she known they’d be there? He hadn’t told her, but that didn’t mean one of his teammates hadn’t. Gossip was the lifeblood of a locker room. He’d avoided her so far on the road trip. He didn’t know why she was traveling with the team, but it didn’t matter. His luck had run out.

  “Hi, Elise,” he said.

  “Want to dance?”

  He’d been sitting here for the past thirty minutes with no inclination to dance. Nothing had changed. “No thanks. What are you doing here?”

  “You mean on the trip or here in this club?”

  “Both.”

  “I am the team’s assistant GM. I had business to attend to here in New York with the league office. As for the club, all work and no play makes Elise a very boring girl, and we can’t have that, can we?”

  “I wouldn’t know.”

  She inched closer. “Aww, Brady, no need to be so distant. I noticed that your girlfriend didn’t join you on the trip. Can I hope that means that you two broke up? Please say yes.”

  Brady studied Elise. She was saying all the right things to entice a man, but in her eyes, he saw no emotion. No desire to be with him. “No,” he said. “And no, I’m not going to cheat on her.” He and Caitlin weren’t really a couple, but being disrespectful to her wasn’t an option. The extent of his adamancy surprised him, but it felt right in his gut.

  She skimmed a nail down his neck in a gesture she no doubt considered seductive. He felt nothing but mild annoyance. “Sure I can’t change your mind? No one has to know.”

  She was right. His teammates weren’t watching. No one would notice if they snuck out and went back to their hotel and into the same room. It didn’t matter. “You know I have a girlfriend. You’re not really interested in me. You’re halfheartedly going through the motions like you’re playing a part. Which begs the question, why are you doing this?”

  A stricken look flashed across her face. “Look, if you don’t want to have sex, just say so. I don’t need you to play shrink.”

  “Elise.”

  She leaped up from the sofa. “No, don’t worry about it. I was wrong for coming.” Her voice trembled. “For everything. You don’t have to worry about me trying to come between you and Caitlin anymore. I’m sorry.”

  “Elise, wait.” But she’d already disappeared through the throng on the dance floor.

  Shit. He’d handled that well.

  A commotion from the floor below caught his attention. “Maguire,” someone shouted.

  Maguire? Brady leaped from his seat and peered over the railing. Maguire was chest to chest with some guy who looked high or drunk or both. He definitely looked ready to fight as he wildly waved his hands around. He looked ridiculous standing on his toes to glare at Maguire eye to eye, but the dangerous gleam in his eye was no joke. A woman stood next to him egging him on. Fuck.

  Brady raced down the stairs. He didn’t know what he was going to do. Only that he needed to do something. Where the hell were the rest of his teammates? He fought his way through the crowd surrounding the combatants. They were staring each other down like two boxers at a weigh-in. Good, the situation hadn’t escalated yet. Still time to get Maguire out of there before things went to hell.

  “What’s going on here?”

  Maguire and the other guy were too busy jawing insults to answer him. The woman grabbed his arm and stared up at him with bloodshot eyes. “They’re fighting over me.”

  Brady bit back a sigh. “Okay, time to break—”

  “I’m not breaking shit up,” Maguire said. “This asshole thinks he can talk to me any type of way. I’m going to prove to him he’s wrong.”

  Brady stepped between them, the woman still clinging to his arm like a barnacle. “Let’s back up and go our separate ways.”

  “I don’t wanna,” Drunk Guy slurred.

  “Yeah, because you’re a pussy,” Maguire said.

  With a loud roar, the other guy lunged for Maguire. Unfortunately, Brady still stood between them. Which left him in the perfect spot to get punched. The other guy might be drunk and off-balance, but a punch with most of his weight behind it still made an impressive impact. Brady’s head snapped back. Son of a bitch. The guy came after him again, but someone—likely a bouncer based on his attire and girth—grabbed the drunk’s arms from behind and pulled him away.

  Camera phones were snapping away. Fucking great. Brady’s face was now throbbing, but he pushed the pain aside. “We have to get out of here,” he said to Maguire. Ignoring the flashes, he pried the woman’s hands off him and pulled his teammate out of the club. “What the fuck were you doing?”

  Petulance crowded Maguire’s features. “I was just dancing when he came up to me and started yelling at me about leaving his girlfriend alone.”

  “And you couldn’t walk away?”

  “No, because I wasn’t doing anything wrong. Dancing in a club isn’t illegal.”

  Brady poked him in the chest. “What about stupid? You do know the people in there are posting photos to Twitter and Instagram as we speak, right? The money-hungry ones are calling up TMZ.”

  Maguire pouted like a five-year-old who’d been told he couldn’t watch an extra hour of Sesame Street before his bedtime. “It wasn’t my fault.”

  “Egging him on wasn’t your fault?”

  “He insulted my mother. He deserved it.”

  “Grow up! You are in a high-profile position. People are waiting for you to screw up.”

  “Like you?” Maguire shot back.

  Brady poked him in the chest again. “Yes, exactly like me. So maybe you should listen to what I have to say.”

  “Whatever, man. Just because we both like comic books doesn’t mean we’re best friends now. Worry about yourself. I’m doing fine.” Maguire stalked off down the street.

  Brady considered going after him, but he wasn’t his babysitter. Besides, he had his own shit to deal with. Like an eye that was pulsating like a hot poker in a fireplace. He hailed a cab and returned to the hotel. On the way, he considered calling the team trainer, but he didn’t want to alert the team to what had happened before he had to. It was late, so he was able to fill his ice bucket and return to his room without encountering anyone.

  He winced when the ice hit his face. “Damn it!”

  This was the thanks he got for trying to hang with the fellas. Why did this shit always happen to him?

  He lay on his bed for a few minutes until the ache lessened somewhat. Too bad the quiet was trying to kill him. He grabbed his phone and typed a quick message. You up?

  The reply came a second later. Yeah.

  He dia
led before he thought better of it. “Hey.”

  “Hi.” Caitlin sounded tired. Sleepy.

  “I didn’t mean to wake you up.”

  “It’s fine. I dozed off on the couch. What’s wrong?”

  “What makes you think something is wrong?”

  “I can hear it in your voice. The cockiness is missing.”

  Despite himself, he grinned. Then he winced, the motion pulling on his face.

  “Brady, what’s wrong?” Concern, not sleepiness, now filled her tone.

  Why had he called her? The truth hit him in a flash. Because he missed her. The way she made him feel. Shit. When had he gone from wanting to concentrate solely on his career and not get involved with someone else to caring about someone and wanting her to care about him? To wanting to lean on and trust her? More importantly, what could he do to stem the tide? Did he even want to? After all, he trusted no one—and for good reason.

  “Brady?”

  He sighed. “I got into a fight.”

  “What? How? Why?” Her voice rose another octave after each question.

  “I went out with my teammates—”

  “Like I suggested. Oh, God. Are you okay? This is all my fault.”

  “It’s not your fault. And I’m fine.”

  “Are you really fine, or are you doing that macho, pretend-I’m-fine-even-though-I’m-in-tons-of-pain thing men do?”

  He chuckled, then winced at his mistake, the action pulling on his facial muscles. “I’m fine.”

  “I don’t believe you. I want to see.”

  He blinked. “See? How?”

  “You have an iPad or something, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good. Let me get my MacBook, and we can FaceTime.”

  There was no point in arguing with her when she took that tone.

  “Yes, Ms. Caitlin.” He grabbed his tablet and opened the program. With a few taps on the screen, there she was. She looked cute. Hair mussed. No makeup. And concerned.

  She gasped. “Oh, God. What happened to you?”

  He told her what happened, and her features twisted in sympathy. “You were trying to help.”

  “Fat lot of good it did me.”

  “Was Maguire at least grateful?”

  Brady snorted. “That word’s not in his vocabulary.”

  “What does the other guy look like?”

  “Would I look more manly if I said I beat him to a bloody pulp?”

  Her eyes went wide. “No!”

  “Good, because that’s not what happened. He sucker punched me. The bouncer got there before I could retaliate.”

  Caitlin stood and began walking, holding her laptop.

  “Where are you going?”

  “The kitchen. I need cookies. I bake when I stress.”

  “You’re stressed?”

  She stared at the screen. “Yes! Look at your face.”

  “I’m all right.” Her concern made him feel better. Made him glad he’d called. “What kind are you making? Say sugar.”

  “Why?”

  “Because those are my favorite, and don’t you want me to feel better?”

  “You are shameless.” She’d made it to the kitchen and was flipping through cabinets and yanking stuff out. “Well, I’m glad you’re still alive. You have ice, right?” She took her eyes off her supplies she’d gathered for a second to peer at the computer screen.

  He held the towel up.

  “I wish I could do something besides make sugar cookies.” She seemed to be barely paying attention to her hands as they cracked open eggs and poured them and other ingredients into a bowl.

  “Distract me.”

  “How?”

  “Take off your clothes.”

  She stopped stirring the bowl’s contents long enough to roll her eyes at him like he’d known she would. “In your dreams, buddy.”

  I know, the stupid voice inside his head whispered. “Hey, you never know unless you ask.”

  She dropped dollops of cookie dough on the cookie sheet. “Yeah, okay. At least the game went well before the night went to hell.”

  “It did. Our best game this season.”

  “You showed the Knicks what they were missing. Suckers.”

  He laughed. He couldn’t help himself. “You are so bloodthirsty.”

  “I was a Stampede fan long before you showed up.” She opened the oven door and leaned over to slide the cookie sheet inside.

  He stifled a groan as her shorts pulled tight over her round ass. But she only stayed in that position for a second. She rose up and faced him again. Okay, that was better. Or not. She didn’t look like she was wearing a bra. Her nipples pushed against her T-shirt. Why was he noticing that? Because he was a man, and that’s what men did. And she was Caitlin, and he noticed everything about her. Still, it was stupid and a complete waste of time. They weren’t a thing. She’d made it clear she didn’t want them to be a thing. Hell, he hadn’t wanted them to be a thing, even though he couldn’t remember why at the moment.

  What color were her nipples? How would they taste?

  He shifted on the bed. Now his eye wasn’t the only body part throbbing.

  “Earth to Brady,” Caitlin said.

  He shook his head. “Sorry. Just reliving the best moments of the night. Enough about me. How’s the show and syndication going?”

  She leaned against the kitchen island. “Good. Our call volume is increasing every day along with our interactions on Facebook. I’ve been busy researching and lining up guests.” A vee bisected her brow. “But I worry.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I want this to go well. I know it’s not my name on the show, but I’ve put a lot of blood, sweat, and tears into it, too. I believe in what Noelle does, and I want it to succeed.”

  “It will.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “Because I know you, and you’re nothing if not determined and focused. And dedicated.”

  She didn’t say anything. Just sat and stared at him for a few seconds. “Thank you,” she finally said. “You really are a nice guy sometimes.”

  For some reason, her statement stunned him. It was the second time she’d said it, and yet it still hit him like a ton of bricks. He’d been so focused for so long on his goals, vowing to let no one or anything stand in his way, that remembering to be or even wanting to be a nice guy had stopped registering on his radar. The last time he’d been a good guy, his parents had made it clear they saw him as nothing more than a human ATM. A stingy ATM, although he’d bought them a house and given them money. Nothing he’d experienced since then had made him think any differently. But she meant it. He could tell by the look in her eye. The tone of her voice. And it touched him. Way more than he was comfortable with. Even more so when it hit him that he wanted to be the man she thought he was. He let his lips curve into a playful smile. “Sometimes?”

  “You have your moments. Every now and then. Once every blue moon.”

  She licked the remaining dough off the spoon, humming in appreciation. Making him wish she was licking him instead. He cleared his throat. “I’ve been listening to the show online.”

  “You have? What do you think?”

  “It’s great.” No need to mention the main reason he listened was for the off-chance he got to hear her voice.

  “Thanks. The listeners love you. They keep asking when you’re going to be back on.”

  He shifted on the bed. “Speaking of our deal, Elise says she’s done. We don’t have to pretend to date anymore.”

  “We don’t?”

  It took him a second to realize that he hadn’t responded. That they were just staring at each other. “What are we doing, Caitlin?”

  “I don’t know, but I like it,” she whispered so softly he almost didn’t hear her.

  “I do, too.”

  And that confession carried way more impact than a sucker punch.

  Chapter Ten

  Brady stared out the window as the Dallas sk
yline came into view. He’d slept to pass the time, but now he couldn’t wait to get off the plane. To get back to his place and relax. To see Caitlin and not just text her or see her on a computer screen. To get a taste of her attitude. A taste of the sweetness that lay underneath.

  He touched his cheek. The ice had kept the swelling down. He’d woken up that morning with a small black mark under his eye. He’d managed to avoid Mack and the team’s medical personnel by being the first one on the bus and heading all the way to the back. At the arena, he’d said something about tripping over his shoes in an unfamiliar hotel room and slamming into the doorframe when the media asked. They’d left it at that. He’d repeated the story to Mack and the team trainer, all of whom accepted him at his word. Then they’d beaten the Nets and headed straight for the airport after the game.

  The team was on a roll, and he had every reason to believe they would only play better as the season progressed.

  He settled back in the seat and ordered himself to relax as the plane descended. Once they were on the ground, he turned on his phone. It immediately started pinging and buzzing with email, phone, and text messages. What the hell?

  Brady stepped off the plane and paused. A ton of people were there to greet them. Sometimes, a fan or two greeted the airplane, but this mass of people? What the hell was going on? His eyes widened. News cameras? Yeah, a four-game winning streak was big, but nothing that demanded the media meet the plane instead of waiting until the next practice.

  The journalists crowded closer when they spotted him. “Are you going to jail?” asked a reporter from a local news channel.

  “Fighting over another woman, Brady?” another one called out.

  “Worried about getting suspended for your latest antics?” asked another.

  Fuck. How stupid could he be? He’d thought that since nothing had been said at the Nets game, that meant extracurricular activities would be kept under wraps. So stupid.

  Brady kept walking. He didn’t have time for the bullshit. For the digging for stories where none existed. He headed straight for his car and pretended he didn’t hear his coach calling out his name. There was only so much avoiding he could do though. He’d barely stepped foot into his condo when his phone rang. He’d ignored Mack’s two other calls on the short drive from the airport. “Hello.”