Playing the Game (10 page)

“Welcome back to
Interesting People
and our live interview with Celtics superstar Barry Dennis.” Roxanne turned to Barry and tightened her grip on the notes on her lap.
To hell with this stuff
, she thought. This was her chance to take matters into her own hands. He was smiling politely at her, but she could see he had his game face in place.

If it was a game he wanted, then she would give it to him all right. She didn’t know what his game was yet, with this live interview deal, but he would come out of here knowing he was playing with no lightweight.

“Your fabulous and illustrious career as a superstar basketball player has been well documented. You are discussed by experts as the ultimate dominant professional athlete, the best of the best, eclipsing all sports, very much admired. What is it that makes you so special?”

He gave her a look that said she ought to know. The intimate suggestion in his eyes made her think of their nights together. The clenching heat between her legs spread until she felt sure her face was red, but not from embarrassment. While she forced her poise back in place, he spoke.

“My father devoted himself to training me to pursue excellence in the game. No compromises. I’m devoted to being the best in basketball. In every choice I make, basketball comes first. For some people it’s hard to choose and they make compromises on their priorities. For me it’s automatic.”

“Aren’t you afraid you’re missing something?”

“Everyone is missing something. You make choices about what you want to miss in life.” He had that shark-like, take-no-prisoners game face on and aimed at her. She resisted the automatic impulse to shudder. She could swear he was talking about more than basketball and decided he’d make a riveting preacher—if he
chose
to.

“You’ve been criticized about your well-publicized short-lived marriage and about your distant relationship with your young daughter. Are the critics right? Have you put your career’s success ahead of a stable family life?”

“Yes,” he said without flinching.

She didn’t pause a breath before continuing. “That’s not all your critics contend. Recently you attended two charitable events for Children’s Mercy Hospital. Aside from that, however, my research indicates very sparse contributions of your time to charitable causes. Could recent accusations claiming you turn down most solicitations of your time on behalf of worthy causes be true?”

“Yes,” he said again without flinching. But his expression became subtly harder, she noticed.

“Why is that?” she asked, keeping to her relentless pace.

He paused. His expression changed. He grinned so wide that both his dimples showed and the sparkle of mischief she saw caused her stomach to tighten in anticipation. This was it.

“Why don’t you ask me why I’m doing this interview? Or why I chose to participate in those particular benefits? I normally don’t do much besides write a check, I’ll confess.”

She didn’t stop and try to figure it out. He would have to play her game.

“But why is that? Surely you must have some time you could spare?”

He sighed and continued to look studiously at her and not the camera. “I have some time and some energy and some heart. But I can’t give it all away. I have to draw the line somewhere. It would be easy to give my entire self away in little pieces if I did everything I was asked. And you may be surprised to know that my daughter does come before doing benefits.”

“After basketball?” she prompted.

He nodded affirmatively and absolutely without apology. His smile was gone. She knew he hated the subject, but this was her interview. Or so she thought.

“What about you?” he asked.

“What about me?” Her response was automatic and she looked at him, for a moment committing the cardinal sin of forgetting about the camera.

“You must have been in a situation before where you’ve lost control?”

“Yes. Like now for instance. I’m supposed to be asking the questions.” They laughed and she managed to regain control by announcing a commercial break.

Then she lost it again completely with the cameras turned out when she proceeded to swat him with her notes.

“Don’t you dare do that again. You don’t ask the questions. Just stick to answering them.”

He smiled his lopsided grin at her, ducking the papers. “Then stick with the program. This line of questioning wasn’t listed on the copy I received,” he noted.

“I was doing you a favor. I thought you’d appreciate the chance to defend yourself against your critics in the press.” It was partly true, she thought.

“To hell with favors. I don’t need any favors from you. You’re a little viper.” He was only half teasing.

“Oh? Not so little.” She laughed with her eyes, aware of the clock ticking down the seconds until airtime. His eyes sparked, but he only let a skeptical half-grin show. She had more live TV experience than he figured on, she’d bet. Before this job she’d done lots of TV auctions on cable stations and being live didn’t bother her a bit. He opened his mouth to speak, but the director cut him off.

“All quiet. Back from break and 5…4…3…2…1.” He swooshed his arm down, the red light went on, and Roxanne smiled into the camera again.

She did stick to the program for the rest of the show and when it was over, the producer, Hank Sillman, came by and shook Barry’s hand.

“Great job, Barry. Brilliant. Even better than we expected. I know you have a lot of demands on your time, but…”

“That’s right. The season’s starting tomorrow and I’m booked straight through next June,” Barry said in a voice harder than the pleasant half-smile on his face should have allowed.

Hank laughed it off and flashed a look at Roxanne as if for help. She said nothing. This wasn’t the time or place to start pushing their luck with Barry Dennis. Hank didn’t say any more, but Roxanne was sure he took note of the arm Barry placed behind her back in a proprietary manner as they left the studio. Hank waved them off and headed for his office.

“So what have you been up to lately? No good, I’m sure,” Barry said.

“Yeah, if you call raising money for medical research ‘no good’.”

“Oh, don’t worry. You have my vote for the Nobel Peace Prize. Does your good-deed-doing leave you any time to go out?” His eyes dared her to say yes.

“Yes.”

“Then I’ll see you after the game tomorrow night.” He walked toward the exit and moved to open the door.

“It’s a date.” She was crazy, but she couldn’t say no. “On one condition.”

He stopped in mid-motion. “What’s that?”

“You have to win the game.”

“I’ll assume you’re referring to the basketball game. No problem. You’re on.” He pushed open the door to leave and gave her one last long heart-pounding stare before stepping outside.

A smile etched her face despite the fact that she’d just created an impossibly difficult situation for herself. How could she meet Barry after the game if she already agreed to go with Mark Baines to the game, albeit for business? She’d have to do some fancy juggling to keep her date with Barry separate from her business meeting with Mark. Walking back to Hank Sillman’s office to sign her new contracts, thinking very hard. But the smile escaped through again and she shrugged as she knocked on Hank’s door. She’d figure something out. But she had better not let Barry know that she was worried. Or she’d definitely lose whatever
game
they were playing with each other.

A limousine picked Mark up at his hotel on the waterfront, not far from the Boston Garden. When he got in, Roxanne greeted him with a big smile. Her plush coat and mane of rich hair made her irresistibly huggable, but he didn’t bother trying. He greeted her instead with a light kiss on the cheek.

“Wow, you really are going all-out to woo me into getting you this promo deal, aren’t you? And it may even work, too, if you keep up like this.” Sitting back in the deep seat he relaxed as much as he could.

Pouring champagne for them both, she raised her glass for a toast. “Here’s to a successful evening,” she said, and brought the glass to her parted lips. Her gaze was riveted on him. He had trouble keeping up his smile with his anxiety making his mouth quiver. He took a sip of champagne. When she looked at him that way he found it difficult to hide the effect it had. He struggled to concentrate on not spilling his drink.

“I know I won’t forget the evening even if nothing else happens.”

“I’m glad to hear you say that.”

“I take it that means nothing is going to happen between us, Roxy? All this special treatment is only to get the promo? Not even a little because you want me?” He was doing it again, but damn, he couldn’t help himself. He knew better than to try and push this woman into a corner. He was bound to get scratched. Ever since his divorce he’d been hinting that he wanted to see her seriously, but she refused to budge an inch. She wasn’t interested in any kind of commitment to him, least of all marriage. That message had been made clear, as he remembered, the night of Don’s death. He’d pushed then because she’d been separated and he figured it was his opening. But he’d pushed too hard.

“Of course, Mark. I don’t drink champagne with just anyone. Driver, go around the block. We don’t want to arrive just yet. We haven’t had a chance to talk about the deal.”

Mark laughed at her. It seemed she could make him feel like a million with such little effort.

“I do want to put together a promo for the hospital tonight first. Then we can enjoy the game.” She patted his hand in that warm way she had, making him feel special. It was pure torture. He didn’t know what to think anymore. He was crazy to think about her at all. He was acting like a fool reacting to her this way and if he kept it up, he’d deserve what he got—or didn’t get.

He straightened himself slightly. “Nothing wrong with that. By the way, I understand you’re a personal friend of Barry Dennis. True?”

“True.”

“Lucky guy. Should I be jealous?”

“Why stop now?” Her smile faded.

“Come on, Rox. How hooked is he?” He forced his smile, hoping she’d scoff at him for being ridiculous, but knowing already that there was something between them. He knew of Barry Dennis’s reputation with women. The man didn’t fool around. Laura hadn’t said much, but he could tell by her hesitation that Roxanne and Barry’s meeting at a party had been more than that.

“Maybe you can ask him. Want to meet him?” she asked.

He shook his head, thrown off by her unhesitating smile. But then he saw the twinkle in her eyes. He nodded his head. He may as well see for himself.

She directed the driver to arrive at last. “It’s still early enough to catch Barry at his pregame practicing shooting ritual,” Roxanne said and took a deep breath, almost a sigh, as he followed her into the building next to the Garden past a checkpoint where she showed a guard her pass.

“Something wrong?” He touched her shoulder lightly, running his fingers over the soft material of her coat. She looked up at him, pausing for a beat before lighting her face with her irresistible smile.

“No. Of course not. I’m excited about tonight. I haven’t seen you in a while.” She stopped walking. “I’ve missed you. Tonight will be fun. We can catch up.”

His heart nearly stopped and he couldn’t take his eyes from hers. Maybe he was all wrong.

“I’ve missed you too. I always miss you.” He leaned toward her and when he would have kissed her, some people passed them in the hall and she turned away.

They walked through a cavernous garage where the team parked, walked on by the locker room, and finally arrived at the basketball court.

“I’m impressed, Rox. I didn’t expect a behind the scenes Garden tour. But leave it to you.” Mark shook his head as he looked out over the floor. He felt more hopeful, at least for the moment.

“I couldn’t get courtside seats, so tonight we’ll have to settle for half-court.” Her smile bubbled as she stopped at the edge of the parquet floor and spread her arms dramatically as if introducing a masterpiece. And she was. Barry Dennis stood, what seemed like miles from the basket, and swished the ball through the hoop in time for them to see. Mark was impressed in spite of himself and his apprehension was renewed.

The rest of the court came into focus after Barry let the ball fly out of his hands and he realized he had company. They were not the usual scattered reporters and camera operators who unobtrusively sat and watched his solitary ritual. The big lights had just been turned on as if announcing Roxanne’s entrance. Barry’s mouth quirked into the half-smile upon seeing her standing there on the threshold of the court with her arms spread out, acting for all the world as if this place were hers to show off.

He stared again up at the basket, gauging the distance exactly. He set himself squarely on his feet, feeling with his fingers for the seams in the ball. It was all automatic and took a fraction of a second before he tossed the ball into the hoop where it swished through the net.

Scooping the ball up from the floor, he dribbled over to where she stood. It wasn’t until Barry stood in front of her that he noticed the man she was with. The sudden shock of panic jolted through him before he could tell himself it was nothing. His self-confidence was completely drained in an instant. There weren’t many occasions in his life when he went out and sought the attentions of a woman, but when he had it was a given that she would respond. That she would be his for the taking. Until now. The feeling that ran through him at that moment was too close to the sickening pain of failure. He fought with himself to stay rational. This woman was not his, nor did he want her to be his, he told himself. He didn’t bother trying to tell himself that there was probably nothing between her and the man that stood with her. He knew her too well already to believe that. Besides, it only took one glance at the way the man looked at her to know definitively how he felt. He couldn’t tell, of course, how the hell she felt.

But it didn’t matter. All the rationalizing in the world on his part would not justify her bringing another man on a night that was supposed to be his. Barry’s defenses were shored up, turning his uncertainty into anger. But he had to be careful. He did not want her to mistake his anger for jealousy.