Out of Bounds. Ellen Hartman

past him, hell-bent for the hoop.

      She was a lot faster than he expected and she’d caught him entirely flat-footed. He took off after her. He could make excuses all day but it wouldn’t change the fact that she put an easy layup in while he was half a step behind her.

      Another quick smile flashed across her face and the ball felt uncomfortable in his hands as he realized she was pretty. Not gorgeous like Fabi, but fresh. Like someone you’d see in a Coke commercial.

      She checked the ball to him and settled in to play defense and the smile was gone as quickly as it had come. She didn’t mean to lose without a fight. Okay, maybe not a Coke commercial for Posy, Nike was more her speed. He glanced at her again and her dark eyes tracked him.

      Maybe instead of commercials, she could host one of those shows where people stalked wild animals.

      He didn’t have a chance to consider any more about her best match for product representation because he needed his attention on the game.

      She wasn’t as good as him, obviously. He had her by more than six inches and at least fifty pounds, for starters. He’d also been playing and practicing with a professional team right up until a month ago, so he was in near-peak shape. But she had no give. Wouldn’t admit that she couldn’t muscle through him.

      With the aggression she was throwing his way, he sensed Posy was taking this game to his body because she was carrying that load of anger he’d seen earlier. This was a place she could let it out.

      Sure, he could have backed off, but the first time she put her hand on his back and tried to shove him off his dribble, the impression of her fingers felt good. He was aware of the scent of her hair and after a few minutes, of her sweat. When she took the ball out for the third time, he saw a bead of moisture at the base of her throat, right where the tendons in her neck came together in a vulnerable V. The sweat slid down her neck, headed for that lacy bra and he missed her head fake. She scored again.

      It hadn’t been that long since he’d been with Fabi.

      He was attracted to a woman who was playing him harder than he’d ever been played outside a professional game. And she didn’t seem overly concerned if she hurt him during the process. Of all the screwed-up things he’d been turned on by, he was turned on by playing basketball with Posy.

      He shook his head when she blew past him again and then he settled down to play. Attraction or not, he wasn’t going to let her beat him that easily.

      * * *

      T HE FIRST TIME she bumped him, it was an accident. He was guarding her tight and she wanted to move him off the ball, but her elbow connected with his stomach more sharply than she intended. Ashamed that she’d let her frustration toward her mom bleed over onto her game, she immediately paused to apologize.

      He stole the ball from her and put it in, obliterating the small lead she’d snagged with her first shot. He hadn’t even noticed that she’d hit him despite the fact that her elbow stung from the contact.

      Posy almost called time-out. She’d been apologizing for being too big, too rough, too much her whole life. Over and over she’d gotten the message that she wasn’t just physically too big, she was too competitive and wanted too much. People got angry when she didn’t keep herself in check.

      Wes pumped his fist and pointed at her, glee, not anger, on his face. “You done?”

      She shook her head, energy humming through her. No. No, she was most definitely not done. She was just getting started.

      She took the ball and when he moved in to guard her, she bumped him again, not that much harder, but deliberately this time. She leaned into his chest with her shoulder and pushed off, registering his solid strength. Again, he didn’t seem to notice. He didn’t lose a step.

      Her focus slipped and she double-dribbled. He could have called her on it, but he didn’t.