Slamdunked By Love (One on One #2) (6 page)

“Let me guess. I’m the name.”

“Yes.” She beamed a call-me-a-genius smile.

He wasn’t ready to acquiesce. Not yet. “What kind of show?”

“Relationship advice.”

He suppressed a groan. Really? What the hell did he know about relationships? “What would I be doing?”

“Ideally, you’ll come into the studio, but we can do it over the phone if need be. We’ll do a Love Letters to Brady segment where you offer advice to callers. The host, Noelle, will probably tell you you’re wrong, but the listeners will love it.”

“That’s it?”

“Yep. It will be one day out of your life. You should do it.” She sounded certain. Too certain.

“Why?”

“It’ll give you a chance to get away from the game for a bit.”

“I don’t want to get away from the game.”

Caitlin clasped her hands together. “Okay, look. How do I say this? You have a reputation for being difficult and arrogant.”

“I am.” He shrugged.

She shot him a look. “Be that as it may, underneath all the arrogance, you’re a good guy.”

Brady shifted, uncomfortable with the label. He’d looked out for himself for so long, relying solely on himself, trusting no one because doing so always blew up in his face, that he’d stopped thinking of himself as a good guy a long time ago.

“Doing the show will present you in a new, less intense light to all the naysayers.”

Which sounded good except he didn’t give a shit about his reputation. But he needed to, if he was being honest with himself. If the media heard him giving advice to others and acting like a regular guy, maybe they would back off and stop crowding around his locker looking for quotes that painted him in a bad light. Maybe his teammates would stop thinking of him as a raging egotist, only out for himself.

“If that doesn’t convince you, need I remind you that you need a pretend girlfriend?” Caitlin drove home the point he couldn’t ignore even if he wanted to.

Yes, he needed a girlfriend, especially after the scene Maguire witnessed.

He focused in on the mastermind of this plot. “So if I do what you want, you’ll do what I want. How real would this pretend relationship be? Ms. Caitlin, are you trying to get in my pants?”

Her eyes widened. “No. I’m not sleeping with you.”

“I don’t recall asking you to.” Her glare only made him grin harder. “I just wanted to see where your head was at.”

“I’m not interested in you. This is strictly a business proposition.” She ticked her fingers. “No sleeping together. No kissing other than polite kisses on the cheek when the situation calls for it. No touching. No—”

Brady held up a hand. “I get it.” He refused to acknowledge the twinge of
something
that hit near his chest
again
at her assertion that she wasn’t interested in him.

She stared up at him again with those pleading, beautiful eyes. “Will you do it?”

Brady studied her. Caitlin had been nothing but honest and straightforward with him, something he appreciated more than he could say. She didn’t want to get involved with him. She’d made that abundantly clear. Good. His last girlfriend had taught him that he was much better off concentrating on basketball than letting someone who’d only end up hurting him get close. The story of his life. So, yes, he could and would hold Caitlin at arm’s length. Just because he’d lain awake for half the night reliving their kiss didn’t mean he couldn’t control his hormones. As he’d proven over and over, he could accomplish whatever he put his mind to.

Besides, it was only a few weeks. Maybe not even that long. How bad could it be?

“Fine. I’m in.” Despite Caitlin’s claims, he wasn’t a nice guy, but he was opportunistic. “You can start tonight. We have a game. I would love to have my
girlfriend
there cheering me on.”

Chapter Four

“T
hanks for coming with me,” Caitlin said to her twin brother, Christian, as they maneuvered through the crowd milling in the arena concourse. She clutched a twelve-dollar margarita in her hand. Ordinarily she would have balked at the price, but she needed the liquid courage to get through the night.

Yes, she was being dramatic, and yes, this whole pretense had been her idea, but she hadn’t given proper consideration to what attending Brady’s games entailed. Like trying to pretend she didn’t notice everyone in the arena staring at her.

At the moment, she was regretting her decision not to sit in the suite Brady had offered to get for her. Not that she wanted to sit in a suite. She preferred sitting in the stands with fellow loud and rowdy fans, but a suite would have been more private. Way fewer eyeballs on her. But wasn’t that the point? Eyeballs on her while she played the dutiful girlfriend? So she needed to get it together. The margarita would help.

“No problem,” Christian said. “How could I say no to free tickets to a Stampede game
and
a chance to check out my sister’s new boyfriend?”

“Shut up, Chris,” she said mildly. Her brother had that quiet sarcasm thing down cold. She’d told him she was “dating” Brady in exchange for him being a guest on the radio show because he knew she’d never date an athlete in a million years. Not after her football player ex played her for the biggest fool known to mankind. Christian didn’t know about their
fa—
Mack
—
yet. She wanted to get his impressions of the coach before laying that news on him. Christian was the epitome of calm. But she had a feeling her news would ruffle even his normally unruffleable feathers. He’d never talked about their father growing up—even when she wondered who he was, Christian was always the one to shrug off her curiosity, saying he didn’t know and didn’t care.

And maybe you haven’t told him because you don’t want him to tell you that your plan is stupid. That maybe you shouldn’t be involving an innocent party in your scheme.

A thought that had occurred to her with startling frequency since she’d come up with this idea. But she couldn’t stop now. Pretending to date Brady was the easiest, most natural way to gain access to Mack to get some dirt on him. Brady wouldn’t get hurt. When everything came to light, she’d make sure everyone understood that he’d known nothing about her plot.

“What?” Christian asked, breaking into her thoughts. “I asked a perfectly innocent question.”

She side-eyed him. “Yeah, okay.”

Caitlin sidestepped a woman who’d abruptly stopped in the middle of the concourse, all without spilling a drop of her margarita. There was a God. “Has Mama said anything about the photo?”

He shook his head. “No.”

“Good. Maybe that means she hasn’t seen it.”

“Maybe.” Or she was waiting to strike with a well-planned attack, his expression said. Miranda Monroe never acted without thinking it all the way through first and then double-thinking just in case.

They entered the arena bowl and climbed the stairs to their seats. Again, eyes latched on to her while she and Christian completed the excuse-me shuffle step to their seats in the middle of the row. She did her best to ignore them and the tension creeping into her shoulders, but couldn’t stop a sigh of relief from escaping when she reached her seat with no drink or ass spillage.

She took a sip of her margarita. No one spoke to her. So awkward. And ridiculous. Time to take matters into her own hands.

“Hi, I’m Caitlin Monroe,” she said to an older lady sitting a few seats away, who wore a bedazzled number 43 jersey. Dante Whitmore’s number.

The woman took her laser-like focus off the court where the players were warming up long enough to look Caitlin up and down. “Honey, I know who you are. Thanks to that kiss, everyone in this arena knows who you are.”

Great.

She’d met a few of the wives and girlfriends at casino night. They’d been nice enough, but she’d sensed their reticence. They weren’t sure what to make of her. How would she change the group dynamics? Would she bring drama? Would she be a permanent fixture or a one-and-doner? Caitlin’s lips lifted in a slight smile. “That kiss is not what I expected my claim to fame to be.”

“Don’t worry about it,” a woman said from behind her. “It was hot!” She held out her hand. “I’m Michelle Banks, by the way. We met at casino night. Victor Banks is my husband.”

“I remember. It’s nice to see you again.” Caitlin shook Michelle’s hand. Michelle looked to be about Caitlin’s age. Pretty with shoulder-length black hair. Victor Banks was a backup forward on the team. He’d been a member of the team for the past two years, if she remembered correctly. Solid performer. Nothing fancy, but he could be counted on to grab a few rebounds and be at the right spot at the right time on the court.

Michelle tapped the shoulder of the older woman. “This is Stacy Whitmore, Dante Whitmore’s mother.”

“I come to every game,” Stacy said proudly. She peered around Caitlin’s shoulder. “Who’s that? Surely you’re not bold enough to bring a date to your boyfriend’s game.”

Caitlin laughed. “No, this is my brother Christian.”

He waved. “Nice to meet you, ladies.”

“Oh, it’s our pleasure, believe me,” Stacy said. “I might be old enough to be your mother, but I can still appreciate a fine man. Don’t worry. I don’t bite. Too hard.”

Christian tilted his cup toward her in acknowledgment. “Good to know.”

“You’re cute, honey. You look like someone. Can’t put my finger on who though.”

Caitlin stilled. She’d always wondered how Christian had managed to top six feet when she and their mother were so petite. Mack had four or five inches on him and was probably thirty or forty pounds heavier, but now that she knew about their relationship, it was easy to see Mack in Christian in the curve of his jaw and shape of his nose.

“You think so?” Christian said. “Maybe I’m the man of your dreams?”

Caitlin snorted and smacked him on the arm. “Calm down, Romeo.”

“Now that we’ve got the niceties out of the way, let’s get to the good stuff,” Michelle said. “How did you meet Brady?”

Stacy tapped Caitlin on the leg. “No, let’s be really real. Tell us what a great kisser he is. With lots and lots of detail.”

Caitlin sensed no malice in their questions, only run-of-the-mill nosiness. If the situation were reversed, she’d be just as curious. “Okay, here’s the deal.” She leaned closer to Michelle. “Brady is…a great kisser. And that’s all you’re going to get out of me.”

Stacy joined Michelle in booing.

Caitlin laughed.

“I like you,” Michelle said. “You know how to have fun. Guess that explains why he doesn’t hang out with the guys.”

Caitlin worked to keep the surprise off her face. Brady
never
hung out with his new teammates? Is that why he and Maguire were at each other’s throats at the casino night?

“Oh, hush,” Stacy said. “Sounds romantic to me.”

“Let me tell you this in case you don’t know, but that was the hottest kiss I’ve seen in a long time,” Michelle said.

Caitlin struggled not to fidget. The kiss had been devastating. An impulse on her part that had landed her in an untenable situation, but she still couldn’t muster any regret for her actions. It had been spectacular. Never to be repeated again, but amazing all the same. When she did find someone suitable to date, the bar had been raised, oh, about twenty stories.

A new voice joined the conversation. “I heard Hudson was about to get engaged to his girlfriend in New York.”

Caitlin twisted her body toward the aisle where a stunning woman in five-inch gold heels, skinny jeans, and the best weave Caitlin had ever seen stood with a smirk on her expertly made-up face. Behind her stood two more women cut from the same mold.

Girlfriend? Engaged?
The struggle was real to keep the shock off her face this time. She could only hope she’d succeeded. It was the surprise of the announcement, not the thought that he’d almost belonged to someone else that sent her heart racing, of course.

“Don’t you think it’s too early to start with the silliness, Patrice?” Michelle asked, her tone impatient. “The game hasn’t even started.”

Patrice and her mini-mes swanned into the empty seats next to Caitlin. Lord, why hadn’t she agreed to sit in a suite? Because she’d thought she’d get more bang for her buck if she was out here. If she had one more big, bright idea, she was going to figure out a way to kick herself in the shin.

Patrice pasted a bright smile on her face. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to cause trouble. I assumed the love of Hudson’s life would know all about his past. I mean you wouldn’t want to be his rebound, would you?” Her lips pouted in the saddest attempt at an empathetic look Caitlin had ever seen in her life.

Puh-lease.

“Of course not,” Caitlin said brightly, her composure regained. “Brady and I share everything, which is why I know about his girlfriend—excuse me,
ex
-girlfriend—in New York. You say he was about to propose. Well, he didn’t, and that’s all that matters.”

“If you say so.”

“I do.” Caitlin tilted her head to the side. “I’m sorry. Who are you again?”

“I’m Patrice Houston. Soon to be
Maguire
.” She waved her left hand, showing off a blinding rock.

Oh, great. Lance Maguire’s other half. Explained the attitude. No telling what Lance had been saying about Brady to her. “Nice to meet you,” she said as politely as she could.

The bright lights in the arena shut off and were replaced by the sequence of flashing spotlights used to introduce the starting lineup. Loud, thumping music filled the air. A video of the players urging the crowd to stand and get loud played on the Jumbotron.

“From USC, in his eleventh year, Brady Hudson!” the public address announcer yelled.

The crowd roared. He walked down the line the bench players formed, high-fiving his teammates. As befitting her role as fake girlfriend, Caitlin screamed along with the crowd. As the most tenured player on the team and the Stampede’s annual All-Star, Lance Maguire was the last player introduced. He played to the crowd, cupping his ear to get them to scream louder.

The game started a few minutes later. Caitlin was immediately drawn into the action. “Come on, ref! That wasn’t a block,” she yelled when Brady was called for a foul.

Michelle looked at her with respect. “You know your stuff. I see why Brady likes you even if…”

“Even if what?”

Michelle glanced around, clearly checking to make sure no one was paying them any attention. She leaned in. “Even if I’m kind of surprised that Brady got involved so quickly. Oh, not because of you. Based on what my husband and a few of the other players say, he’s so aloof. The guys aren’t sure what his deal is. Is he riding the year out to get to free agency and get a contract? Only interested in padding his stats?”

Caitlin took a sip of her drink to give herself a moment to gather her thoughts. “I don’t know why he’s acting that way.” And wasn’t that the truth? How well did she really know Brady? “All I can say is that’s not the person I know. He’s warm and funny. I can say that he cares. A lot. And not about padding his stats. He was devastated about the loss the other night. The part he played in it. He wants the team to win and to get better. He’s dedicated himself to that.”

Michelle nodded. “Everyone thought they’d have a better record at this point than they do. It’s early in the season, but winning at the five-hundred level isn’t going to get them into the playoffs let alone win a championship. Plus, when Brady was traded here, it threw a lot of guys off. Got them wondering if they were next on the chopping block. Fun times in Stampedeland, let me tell you.”

Caitlin grimaced. “Sounds like it.”

She turned her attention back to the court in time to see Brady steal the ball from the opposing point guard, outrun two defenders chasing him down the court, and slam the ball through the hoop. She leaped out of her seat and pumped her fist. “Yeah!”

She watched the rest of the game, enthralled. It was clear Brady was on a mission. Determined to make up for his mistake from the last game, maybe? Whatever the case, he was everywhere at once. She almost pitied his opponents. The crowd gasped as one when he made an incredible low, bouncing pass between two Jazz players, who never saw it coming. Tilly caught the ball underneath the basket and dunked it home, sending the Stampede fans into rapturous cheers.

After the game, at Michelle’s urging, she and Christian went down into the tunnel to wait for Brady. “All the wives do it,” Michelle said. “We can’t go into the locker room, but we can wait until they come out. They’ll be in a good mood.”

The Stampede had ended their two-game losing streak, blowing out the Jazz 100-84.

“Your man, especially,” Michelle added.

Brady had scored twenty-three points and dished out eleven assists, playing one of his best games as a member of the Stampede.

But
her
man? No, he wasn’t. And that was as it should be.

The corridor was packed with game officials and everyone else biding their time until the players came out. After Michelle excused herself to take a phone call, Caitlin settled against the wall next to Christian to wait. With showers, media interviews, and whatever else players did after a game, it might be a while.

“Ms. Monroe, I was hoping to see you tonight!” Dale Templeton came striding down the hall, beaming.

Curious gazes swung between her and the exuberant team owner, but she wouldn’t wilt underneath the scrutiny. She’d gotten herself into this mess, after all. “Hi, Mr. Templeton,” she said with a smile. “It’s nice to see you again.”

“I can see why you and Brady get along. Both stubborn and refuse to call me by the name I told you to.” He enveloped her in a hug, surprising the crap out of her. She went along for the ride because, well, she didn’t have any other choice. The scents of some piney cologne and expensive silk filled her nose. She met the suspicious eyes of his daughter over his shoulder.

He stepped back and grinned at her. “How long have you been waiting?”