“I’m just going to say this and you can say what you know and we can move on, okay?”
She flinched. Not much, but he saw it.
“The situation seems off to me. Not just to me, frankly. Chloe Chastain had some questions for my brother. Your mom is sitting on a lot of money she raised in our name,” he said. “Our reputation is on the line and we’re still negotiating here in Kirkland.”
“I’m not surprised you have questions, but my mom will deliver your money. I promise.”
She didn’t flinch that time. She met his eyes, and he couldn’t make himself call her a liar. He didn’t want her to be a liar.
“Well, I’m looking forward to meeting her,” he said. “My brother put his heart and soul into the Fallon Foundation, and this new project in Kirkland means everything to him. Neither of us could believe that your mom, a stranger, would go out of her way to do this kind of fundraising. He’s floored and so am I. People like her don’t get enough credit.”
* * *
P OSY DIDN’ T WANT HIM to say nice things about her mom. She didn’t want him to say nice things about anything. She wanted to not like him and for him to work for some horrible corporation. Not a foundation that did good for the community. She didn’t want to respect him, because she had to keep lying to him.
She hated lying and the longer she talked to Wes, the more she hated herself. She shouldn’t have let herself get dragged into her mother’s mess. She knew better. This was the last time. It had to be.
“You play basketball?” he asked.
She waited for the obligatory comment about her height, but it didn’t come. He just waited for her to answer.
“I did.”
“High school? College?”
“Both.”
“I did, too,” he offered as he leaned down and grabbed the ball from the ground. “High school, college, then in Europe. But I got hit by a truck so I’m retired now.”
When he mentioned his accident, he touched a spot on his head behind his right ear. She noticed the scar there, a thin line of red flesh visible through the dark stubble.
“I read about the accident.” He looked up. “Google. I was trying to get ready for our meeting. I’m sorry.”
“A dog ran into the road,” he said.
“The articles didn’t mention that.”
He lifted one shoulder. “It was a little dog.”
Wes was getting more dangerous by the second. Pete hadn’t understood humor.
“So this job with the foundation, where does it take you after Kirkland?”
“It’s only a temporary gig. My brother asked me for help and I was at loose ends. It worked out.” He touched his scar.
Funny that they’d both been thrown into this through an obligation to family.
“Want to shoot around?” he asked.
She stared up at him. He was serious. “Play basketball with you?”
“I just moved to town,” he said. “I don’t know any of the other boys yet.”
He dribbled the ball deliberately while giving her that slow, sweet smile. He knew what he was doing with that smile.
Which irritated her. She was supposed to get in and get out. She’d had to buy a three-hole punch just to make that binder full of papers. She wasn’t supposed to hang around and shoot baskets with him.
“I was in Mayor Meacham’s office when you signed up for his lunchtime league.”
“Well, he’s not here right now.” He caught the ball and without the rhythmic pounding, the playground was too quiet. He leaned toward her, tilting his head. “Besides, I want to play with you.”
Oh. In that case.
“Come on, Posy. I’ll go easy on you.”
She’d been sitting at the picnic table, but now she stood. He was close enough for her to feel the height difference and to see the strength in his shoulders and arms. Wes might be named after a skinny Star Trek geek, but he was...well... There was a reason basketball players had as many groupies as rock stars. And her best fantasies had always been about guys who were built on a bigger scale, guys who were broad and tall and strong. Like Wes.
On the first day of school, her kindergarten teacher lined the class up by height to teach a lesson about big and small. Posy was the tallest kid in line. She towered over most of the girls and had a half inch or so even on the two boys in the class who were already six because they’d been held back. She’d been so proud to be the tallest kid, to have something no one else did that was hers all alone. That day on the playground at lunchtime, the girls were all pretending to be fairy princesses, but Chloe Chastain told her she couldn’t be a fairy and made her be the giant instead. That was the first time she realized her height didn’t make her special, it made her abnormal. She’d thrown herself into the game, though, and been such a successful giant that one of her classmates had to go to the nurse after she burst into tears and hyperventilated. Her mom had been so disappointed. She’d known she’d done something wrong but hadn’t understood what.
Here on this playground with Wes, she didn’t feel quite so out of step.
“Okay,” she said, taking the ball from him. “I’ll play you. But don’t even think about going easy on me.”
His smile widened, no longer the flirty weapon he used so well. She’d been with him for less than an hour and already she’d seen the serious businessman, the professional flirt, and now, a guy who looked as if he’d be an awful lot of fun at a water park.
He jogged to the foul line, clapped and held his
hands out.
“I’m the new guy. I get first ball.”
“I’m the lady. We’ll shoot for it.” She tossed it back to him and to prove she had manners said, “You can go first. Since you’re the new guy.”
While he set up for his shot, she took a long look at his...form. She had no chance in this contest. He went up for the shot and she bent to pull the laces on her sneakers tighter. The ball clanged off the metal rim of the hoop and she looked up, confused. How the hell had he missed that shot? He was staring at her. When her eyes met his, he shook himself and went to get the ball. Ah.
His miss gave her confidence, so she squared up to the basket and shot. Her ball sank so sweetly the net barely fluttered.
It might be the last shot she made, but it felt good.
* * *
H E COULDN’ T BELIEVE he’d missed his shot.
He’d had it completely under control and then Posy leaned over to tie her shoe. A perfect view down the front of her shirt. She was wearing a lacy, hot-pink bra.
Pink.
He was still getting a handle on Posy, but he hadn’t figured her for a pink kind of person. Since it practically smoldered against her dark skin, he figured hot pink was a very, very good call.
When she sank her shot, she arched one black eyebrow at him and the corners of her mouth went up in a smile that she tried to hide. He knew the feeling—no matter how trapped he’d felt by his life while he was a pro, he’d never stopped loving the game. When things went right on the court, the power felt amazing.
She took the ball out at half court and waited for him to get set. Then she checked it to him