Fast Break (Brooklyn Monarchs 1)

DeMarcus stepped back, set his stance and leaped. The ball flew over her head. Nothing but net. “You thought you could school me? I just made honor roll.”

Jaclyn hustled for the ball, keeping DeMarcus on her left. His movements were tentative as he tried to block her. She snatched the ball in mid bounce, spun and pitched it into the hoop. Two points. DeMarcus got the ball. Crowding him on her left side, Jaclyn forced his turnover. DeMarcus tried to circle her. With her elbows, Jaclyn kept him back. She bounced the ball twice, spun and stuffed the basket, doubling her lead. “I just sent you to detention.”

DeMarcus caught the ball from under the basket. He dribbled it with him as he moved farther down the court. “I won’t give up the valedictorian title that easily.”

Jaclyn maintained the pressure, trying to steal the ball out from under him. She placed her hand on the small of his back. Through his white jersey, she felt his damp, hot skin. His muscles flexed under her palm as he moved, sending a current up her arm and into her breasts. Jaclyn stumbled back, losing focus.

DeMarcus spun, lifted the ball and aimed for the basket. He jumped—and Jaclyn’s competitive motor restarted. She moved in and stretched with him. Her arm lifted to block his shot.

Their bodies brushed together, her breasts grazing his chest. Their g

azes held for the longest second. The moment ended painfully as the basketball dropped onto her shoulder and bounced to the ground.

“Dammit.” White light exploded before her eyes. Jaclyn landed on her feet.

DeMarcus reached for her, his expression stricken. “Are you all right?”

Returning to her senses, Jaclyn took advantage of DeMarcus’s concern. She sprinted after the ball and drove to the basket. A hook shot lengthened her lead to 6 to 2. “I’m fine.”

Laughing and shaking his head, DeMarcus grabbed the rebound. He dunked on her, bringing the competition to 6 to 4. He chased after the ball, but Jaclyn wasn’t giving up her lead. She cut off his route to the basket. Planting her feet, she forced him to either give ground or go around her. DeMarcus tried to circle her strong right side. Jaclyn maneuvered him to her left. DeMarcus drew back. Quick as a wink, Jaclyn stole the ball. She sent a rainbow shot sailing through the net. She led, 8 to 4.

DeMarcus chased down the ball. Jaclyn followed, closer than his shadow. He claimed the ball a fingertip from her reach. Jaclyn guarded him as he tried to get free of the post. He feinted to his right, but Jaclyn anticipated his ploy and blocked him. He danced backward. Jaclyn waltzed with him. Her hand hovered just above his muscled back. No sense courting distraction again.

DeMarcus chuckled. “Your opponents must have cheered when you announced your retirement. You earned your nickname.”

Jaclyn’s heart floated. “That’s high praise from the Mighty Guinn.”

“I’m serious.”

“I know.” Jaclyn faked left, drawing DeMarcus to her right. She snatched the ball from him—and let it fly to the winning basket.

“Whoa!” DeMarcus shouted his approval. He turned toward her, applauding. “Good game.”

“Thank you.” Jaclyn took her eyes off the dimple in his left cheek and accepted his proffered hand. His grip was warm and firm. “Can I buy you a drink?”

The dimple deepened. “Yes, you can.”

Jaclyn mounted the four steps of her cherrywood deck. DeMarcus grabbed his jacket from the railing and followed her. He tried not to notice the sway of her rounded hips beneath her short shorts.

A burst of pleasing spices drew his attention. DeMarcus moved to the deck’s side railing and discovered rows of leafy plants set into a side garden. He smelled thyme, oregano and rosemary. “You grow your own herbs. Do you cook?”

Jaclyn’s response came from behind him. “Yes, but not as well as you. Maybe we can work something out in your next contract.”

DeMarcus tossed her a smile from over his shoulder. “You’re barely paying me to coach. You definitely couldn’t afford my cooking.”

Jaclyn tried to look sad, but the laughter in her eyes betrayed her. “It was worth a try.” She opened the back door, which led to a solarium. DeMarcus paused before the flat-screen television. He studied the entertainment center and scanned several titles on the bookcases.

Jaclyn crossed into the kitchen and gestured toward the ash wood table and four matching chairs in the center of the room. “Have a seat.”

DeMarcus hung his jacket over one chair and sat in another. He scanned the stainless-steel appliances and gray and black marble counters. The décor was a sharp contrast of bright walls and dark accents, but he thought the patterns had more to do with the Monarchs team colors.

Jaclyn took two tall glasses from an ash wood cabinet. She filled them with ice from the refrigerator’s ice maker and water from the filtered tap.

She offered him one of the glasses, then took the seat to his right at the head of the rectangular table. “Would you like to know how I beat you?”

DeMarcus gulped a mouthful of the cold water. It soothed his dry throat and cooled his heated body. “I think it was the shoes.”

Jaclyn looked from his white sneakers to her silver and black cross-trainers. She swallowed more water. “Maybe. But you have half a foot and almost one hundred pounds on me. How did I beat you?”