Driven

“That?s okay, Cat,” her father countered. “We can take a taxi.”

“No! No, just?wait there. I won?t be long. I promise.”

“Well?.”

“Please, Dad, trust me on this. Grab some breakfast or hit the shops and I?ll be there before you know it, alright?”

She could hear more muffled conversation between her parents, and when her father finally came back on, she sighed in distinct relief.

“Your mother says that we?ll meet you right outside the doors to baggage claim.”

Thank you, God!! “Alright, Dad. Tell Mom I?m sorry, and I?ll see you guys soon. Bye.”

Ending any further conversation, she snapped the phone closed, and turned hesitantly back to the bed where Dylan was lounging on a stack of pillows, hands clasped casually over the flat, muscled plane of her belly. “I?m sorry,” Cat said in a small voice.

Dylan?s eyes softened and she lifted one long arm, palm up. Cat crossed the small space between them, and grasped the offered hand, clasping it as one would a lifeline. “You?ve got nothing to be sorry for, Cat.”

“But?.”

“Listen to me. Remember the conversation we had last night at dinner?”

“Yes, but?.”

“Cat, a relationship like ours is going to have its difficulties. The need to keep it away from the outside world is primary among them. What you will, or won?t, say about it to your parents is something that only you can decide. And whatever you decide will have my complete support, okay? We?re in this together.”

Tears stung at her eyes again, and she blinked them away as she nodded.

“Good. Now I?d suggest jumping in the shower post haste, because if you stand here like that much longer, I?m not going to be responsible for one hour late turning into four or five.”

That got the smile she was looking for, and she stared in frank appreciation at the rear view as Cat scampered from the bedroom and into the bathroom. “Oh, Dylan,” she groaned, collapsing back against the headboard as the shower cut on, “you?re playing with fire here.” Then she grinned, stretching and feeling the pleasant soreness a night of loving had given her body.

“Burn, baby, burn.”

Cat grabbed her gym bag and was headed out of the locker room when she ran into Dylan. The coach smiled and offered a wave bringing the player over. “Dinner?” Dylan asked quietly, knowing they might not completely alone yet.

“I..um?I promised to have dinner with my folks tonight.”

“Ah that?s right. I forgot. Have a good time and let me know if they enjoyed the game. You gave them a hell of a show tonight.”

“I didn?t do that for my folks, I did that for you.” She grinned, wrinkling her nose. “I always get such great rewards when we win.”

“True, but I guess this one will have to wait until your folks leave.”

“Hey, why don?t you join us? My day would love that. He?s a big fan you know?”

“I don?t want to?”

Cat held up her hand. “Stop, just stop. Don?t say it. I wouldn?t have invited you if it were a problem. Come to dinner with us. I?m sure we can find something on the menu at Ramano?s that you can eat.”

“Actually they have an eggplant dish that?s one of my favorites.”

“Good. Then meet us there at eight. I need to go home and change. I?d invite you, but they?re meeting me there.”

“Eight it is then.”

Making sure they were quite alone in the hall, Cat gave Dylan a quick hug and a kiss on the cheek. “See you soon.”

Cat opened the door of her apartment and found her folks sitting in front of the TV watching the highlights of the game on the evening news. “Didn?t you get enough the first time?” She teased as she dropped her gym bag by the laundry room door.

“Never,” he father stood and opened his arms for a hug, which she gave without hesitation. “I love watching you play. I have all your televised games on tape.”

“Good. When I?m retired and I want a highlights tape I know who to call.”

“You?ve got years ahead of you, Cat.”

He led her back to the couch, where they sat, with her mother between them. She gave her mom a hug. “I?m so glad you guys could come for a visit. I?m sorry I couldn?t get home, I just had so much to do.”

“It?s okay, sweetheart. We understand.” Her mother brushed a lock of hair from her daughter?s face. “You?re a busy young lady. Sometimes I think too busy.”

Un-oh, this can?t be good. “What?s wrong, Mom?”

“Nothing is wrong, honey. I?m just worried that you?re working so hard you?ve forgotten to have a life.”

“I have a very nice life, Mom.”

“What about finding someone?”

“Mom, let?s not get into this again, okay. You know we don?t see eye to eye on this subject.”

“But honey, I?m just?”

“Please?” Cat asked with just a hint of pleading in her voice. “We shouldn?t discuss this. It only ends up in an argument. We agreed not to talk about this.”

“All right, fine sweetheart.”

Cat sighed at her mother?s tone. “I promise you with all my heart that when I find that someone special, you?ll be the first to know and I hope you like her.”

“Any chance it?ll be a him?”

“Only if he has breasts and a v?”

“Catherine,” he father warned. He knew that his wife tried to accept their daughter?s choices and that sometimes she didn?t manage it as well as any of them would like, but he hadn?t raised his daughter to sass her mother and he wasn?t going to let her start now.

“I?m sorry, Dad. I?m going to go take a shower and change so we can go to dinner. By the way, Coach Lambert is joining us. I thought you?d like to have a chance to talk to her one on one.”

“That?s great sweetheart,” he father gestured her toward the upstairs and a shower, giving her the signal that he wanted to speak with her mother.

Once Cat was out of the room, he turned to his wife. “Don?t do that to her.”

“What?”

“Try to push her into an argument with you.”

“I was doing no such thing!”

“You were too. Now I know you love Cat and I also know that you don?t care for her choices in companionship, but don?t start this. Let the girl be.”

“I?” The doorbell ringing stopped her next comment.

“Dad,” Cat called from upstairs. “Can you get that, I?m just about to get in the shower.”

“Sure, Sweetheart, you go ahead.”

Her father turned on his heel going to the door at a fast clip. He pulled it open to find Dylan standing there with a large blue notebook in her hand. “Hi, um I was supposed to meet you at the restaurant but Cat forgot the new play book and I was in the area?”

“Come in Coach Lambert. I know Cat won?t mind.”

Dylan stepped into the studio apartment and smiled finding it as she always did, neat and uncluttered. As she closed the door she heard a familiar clicking on the floor. “Hey, Hamlet, you flea bitten mutt.” She tormented the dog, but knelt down and gave him the scratching he always expected when she visited.

“He seems to like you,” Cat?s mother offered from the couch. “It took him an hour to stop growling at us. Does he see a lot of you?”

“Actually he does. Cat and I spend a lot of time together.”

“Really?” The suspicion in her mother?s voice was quite clear.

“Yes, I?m the head coach and she?s the team leader.” She hefted the playbook as proof. “It?s a hazard of the job I?m afraid.”

“I?m sure Cat doesn?t think of it as a hazard or a hardship. You inspire her.”

For all kinds of things. Dylan managed to keep the words from tumbling from her mouth. “That?s good to hear.”

“Would you like a drink?”

“Actually I don?t drink, not normally at least. But if Cat?s got some juice around here?”

“I?ll get it.” Cat?s mom left the couch and wandered into the kitchen, leaving Dylan and Joseph standing in the center of the room.

“Have I done something to upset her?” Dylan lifted one brow and gestured toward the kitchen.

“No,” Joseph sighed. “She and Cat had a ?moment? before you arrived. It?s fine.”

“Is Cat okay?”

The older man smiled, hearing genuine concern in her voice. “She?s fine. She and her mother go ?round about things once in a while.”

Dylan felt the need to press further. “And this time?”

“Ilene thinks that Cat needs to get into a relationship.”

“Well, to be honest I discourage that in my players during the season. It messes with their concentration.”

“That makes sense.”

“So you?re the reason Catherine is alone?” Ilene entered the living room and placed a glass of orange juice on the table.

“No, Mother!” Cat yelled from the top of the steps. She hopped into her sneakers and charged down the stairs. “Dylan is not the reason I?m not in a relationship. Now would you please stop.”

The blonde turned to her coach and smiled. “I?m sorry about that. She?s off her medication and she gets nuts.”

“CATHERINE!” Her mother yelled.

Dylan chuckled and her father out right laughed. “It?s okay Cat,” Dylan turned sympathetic eyes on her favorite person. “I can understand why your mother doesn?t want you to be alone.”

If looks could kill, Cat would have seriously wounded Dylan. They were tempting fate by playing this little game, but Cat had warned Dylan. And she had told her that she wasn?t ready to spring their new relationship on her parents just yet.

Cat?s parents loved her, that was never in question. And they wanted her to have her career as a basketball player. The young woman had worked hard for it and they supported her every step of the way.

However, her mother had never really been comfortable with Cat?s sexual orientation. In their home it had been a case of don?t ask, don?t tell and when Cat brought home someone she was dating, her mother simply pretended they were just friends. Ilene had always hoped it was a ?phase? and that Cat would grow out of it when she found a nice man to settle down with.

“So,” Dylan broke the silence. “How about we go to dinner. My treat.”

“Dylan, I invited you to dinner. You don?t have?”

“I don?t have to. I want to. But you have to eat eggplant.”

“I?ll buy and have a steak.” Cat chuckled as she patted Dylan on the back in a gesture that was familiar if not intimate.

This did not get past her mother.

Dinner was actually relaxed and the foursome had a good time. Dylan got to embarrass Cat with stories of games and practices that her folks hadn?t seen and her parents got to tell embarrassing Cat stories. For Cat?s part she just sat, sipping her tea and wishing for a quick death.

Her parents had both excused themselves before coffee and Dylan leaned over to speak with Cat. “How you holding up?”

“I?m okay. I?m sorry about Mom.”

“Well, honey you did warn me. But I do understand what you were telling me.”

“She?ll be okay, but it?s better if we just let her figure it out for herself, then she?ll just deal with it.”

“I gotcha.” Dylan leaned over a bit closer. “How long are they in town for?”

Cat whimpered and twisted her napkin in her hands. “Three days.” She turned playfully murderous eyes on her lover. “And don?t you start something we can?t finish.”

“Me? Would I do that to you?”

“You know you would. You evil thing.”

Dylan laughed and picked up her glass as her parent?s returned from their respective trips to the restroom.

“Did we miss something funny?” Her mother asked as she retook her seat.

“Yes, I was just torturing Cat.”

“Well”, her father took his seat and took Cat?s hand. “I?m glad to know someone is taking the job seriously since I?m not here to do it.”

Dylan laughed as Cat could only hang her head and shake it slowly, knowing that it was the truth and there was no way to fight it.

Returning back to Cat?s place, Dylan was invited up for coffee and but declined. She did ask to speak to Cat for a few minutes and the player?s parents headed up to the apartment leaving the two in the car.

“Thanks for tonight.” Cat said as she took Dylan?s hand. “It was sweet of you.”

“Well, I?m hoping I can get them to like me without knowing why.” Dylan chuckled, lifting her hand to caress Cat?s cheek. “I?m going to miss you.”

“Let?s just thank God that they?re only going to be here for three days. We can survive three days.”

“Now I remember,” Dylan snapped her fingers playfully. “My shower has a cold setting.”

“Yes it does. And thankfully, so does mine.”

Dylan smiled, leaning over to kiss Cat goodnight.

When she entered her apartment her mother was in her long nightgown sitting on the couch. She was noticeably alone.

“Where?s Dad?”

“Why were you kissing Dylan Lambert?”

“What?”

“I saw you kiss her. Why?”

Cat looked to the heavens for divine intervention and when she realized it wasn?t coming she took a few steps toward her mother. “I kissed Dylan goodnight. Is there a problem with that?”

“Are you seeing her?”

“Does it make a difference?”

“Why didn?t you tell us?”

Cat sighed hard and sat down in the chair across from the couch. “I didn?t tell you because it?s none of your business.”

“So you are seeing her?”

“Yes,” Cat finally decided that giving up would be the best course of action. “Yes, I?m seeing her.”

“How long has this been going on?”

“That is none of your business.”

“Catherine, don?t you speak to me like that.”

“Mother I love you dearly, but I will not be interrogated in my own house. Yes, Dylan and I are seeing each other, but how long we?ve been seeing each other is none of your business.”

“Do you love her?”

Cat sat there and considered it. Do I love her? “I have very deep feelings for Dylan. We are taking this relationship slow to give us both more time.”

“Why are you keeping it quiet?”

“For a number of reasons, but mainly this one. We have no desire for our private lives to be up for discussion.”

“You would think you?d tell your mother and father.”

“Why? So you could tell me it was just a phase and that I needed to find a nice young man? God, Mom when are you going to realize that I don?t want a young man? I?m a lesbian. I like women.”

“I just can?t understand that.”

“Fine Mom, you don?t have to understand it and you certainly don?t have to approve, but damn it that?s just the way it is so you may as well just pretend to deal with it.”

“I can?t believe you?re talking to me like this Catherine.”

“And I can?t believe you?re still trying to tell me how to live my life. I?m a grown woman, Mom. I make my own living and I make my own choices.”

“She?s done this to you.”

“Who has done what?”

“Dylan Lambert, she?s made you disrespectful.”

“Bullshit!” Cat flew off the chair and began pacing. “Dylan has nothing to do with the fact that I?m tired of you pretending this is some phase or something I?m going to grow out of. I?ve been a lesbian since I was fourteen, Mom! It?s not going to change.” She stopped pacing and faced her mother. “I?m sorry, but that?s just the way it is and I?m not going to try to do something that will make me unhappy just to please you.”

“I can see that.” Her mother stood up and nodded to her daughter. “Do you want your father and I to go?”

“No! Where did that come from? I love having you guys here, I just don?t need this particular issue to come up and ruin our visit.”

“Maybe I should speak to Miss Lambert.”

“Don?t you dare! Don?t you dare drag Dylan into this! She has nothing to do with this other than she?s the one I?m currently dating. Don?t make me choose between you mom, because right now I?m afraid you would lose.”

“Catherine listen to what you?re saying. You would chose that woman over your family?”

“No, I would choose her over you. Look at what you?re doing, Mother!”

“Ilene,” Cat?s father stood at the railing of the bedroom. “That?s enough, leave Cat alone and come to bed.”

The older woman looked to her husband and then to her daughter, without another word she turned and went upstairs leaving Cat mad and shaking.

A few minutes later Cat took the phone into the kitchen and dialed. She waited until Dylan picked up the phone and then she said the first thing that came to mind. “I love you.”

Dylan drummed her fingers on the steering wheel; her mind was elsewhere, which was obvious by the sound of the horn behind her. “Yeah, yeah, yeah?give me a break.” She hit the gas and went through the light, taking a second to clear her thoughts.

She had managed to get Cat calmed down from last night?s unexpected confrontation without responding to the younger woman?s declaration. Cat hadn?t even seemed to notice, but the whole thing had left Dylan re-examining her relationship with the star player.

Just when she didn?t think things could get worse, she got a call from Horace?s executive secretary. The old man was demanding that Dylan come to his house. It was certainly the last thing on the planet the coach wanted to do, but Horace wrote the checks, and if he wanted to see her she really couldn?t tell him to go to hell.

“Though you bet your ass I?d like to,” she growled into the rearview mirror.

Turning off the main road, she slowed the car so she could enjoy the drive out to the estate. The road she was on was public, but it was barely traveled, making more like a private drive. She could just slow down and enjoy the scenery for a few minutes; it would give her time to try and figure out what Horace wanted and maybe give her some answers about dealing with Cat.

Ten minutes later she pulled up to the gates that kept Horace?s house secluded and away from the fans that might want to kick the old goat?s ass. Dylan was no closer to knowing what he wanted, but she had come to a conclusion about Cat. Take it one day at a time.

Not that she was frightened, exactly, or unaware of the steadily deepening feelings between herself and one Catherine Hodges. She didn?t know if she could call it love yet. Then again, being who and what she was, she never had much practice with that particular emotion.

“There?s just so goddamn much at stake,” she muttered, hitting the button to lower her window as the callbox came into view.

Placing her finger on the “announce” button, she waited until a woman?s voice answered her buzz.

“Yes?”

“Dylan Lambert to see Mr. Johnson.”

“Of course, Dylan. Horace is expecting you. Please come up.”

The gate opened slowly, it?s chain making a noise that made it clear it needed a good oiling.

“Maybe he?ll get locked in.” Dylan chuckled as she pulled her car up to the house. Before she had time to remove her sunglasses the front door swung open and a rather attractive older woman opened the door.

“Dylan,” she smiled, opening her arms for a hug. “I?m so glad to see you again!”

Dylan returned the embrace fully. She’d known Hellene Johnson for a number of years and liked her a great deal. She was dignified, warm, kind and giving; the exact opposite, in other words, of her bigoted husband.

“Horace is with his doctor right now, but he?ll be with you shortly. Can I offer you anything? Coffee? Wine? Something a bit stronger, perhaps?”

“Water would be fine.”

Hellene smiled, and Dylan found herself appreciating the woman?s genuine warmth all over again. Her anger at Horace grew. Why he felt the need to step out with a succession of airheads with chest sizes equal to their IQ?s when he had a partner who so obviously cared for him was something she would never understand.

“I?ll be right back.”

As Hellene left the room, Dylan stuffed her hands in her pockets, but began giving the room a through look over. On what appeared to be an antique chest there were several photos. Inspecting them more closely, she found pictures of Horace and his wife along with a son and two daughters. She wasn?t surprised to find the wife and the children looked happy but Horace always seemed to look as if he had a bad smell under his nose.

Hellene returned in short order and handed Dylan a tall glass of water. “Please have a seat and make yourself comfortable.”

“Thank you.” Dylan settled on a long leather sofa and Hellene took a seat in the matching armchair.

“So tell me, Dylan, are you happy with the Badgers?”

“I am. The Badgers have the makings of a championship team.”

“Well, drafting Catherine Hodges was a stroke of genius on your part.”

“Thank you. I?m not sure your husband feels the same way.”

“Oh you have to ignore Horace most of the time. I promise you, his bark is far worse than his bite.”

Dylan smiled and sipped her water. “Well, having been on the receiving end of his bite?metaphorically speaking?a few times, I?d say they?re about equal.”

A moment later, a tall man in an impeccably pressed suit entered the living room. “Hellene, Horace is fine. But I still want him to take it easy for a few more days. And keep him off the liquor.”

“I do my best, James, but you know how he is.”

“I know if he doesn?t change his habits he?s going to be dead in a year. Pour it down the drain if you have to but keep him off it.”

“Yes James.” The older woman rose and showed the doctor to the door. “Dylan, if you?ll come with me.” She gestured down a long hall and Dylan rose to follow her.

Horace was propped up in the massive bed and with several trade magazines spread all around him. The TV was tuned to ESPN, and the old man looked like hell.

It might not be a long wait.

Dylan waited until the door was closed and they were left alone, then she took a couple steps toward the bed. “Horace.”

“Lambert. Glad you could come by.”

“You called. I came. You?re the boss.”

“I?m glad to see someone in my organization remembers that.” He gestured to a chair next to the bed. “But my being the boss isn?t enough to keep you on the straight and narrow is it?”

“Excuse me?”

“What?s going on between you and the Hodges dyke?”

“What?” Dylan managed indignant very well, she hoped it would be enough to side track him.

“I?ve been told that you?re spending a lot of time with her. Did you jump on the Sodomite chariot Ms. Lambert? Is that why you wanted her?”

Dylan rose to her feet. “I don?t believe this. One, there is nothing between Catherine and me other than a coach and player relationship.” Okay I?m going straight to hell for that one. “Two, Catherine and I spend a lot of time together because she?s the team leader?”

“And why in the hell were you at dinner with her and her parents the other night?”

Trying her best to keep her boiling anger in check, she managed to stay calm enough to answer him. “Her father is a fan of mine and she invited me to dinner so we could meet in a more informal and comfortable setting.”

“So you aren?t screwing around with her?”

“No, I can honestly say I?m not screwing around with her.” It?s a lot more than that you miserable bastard. She means more to me that a roll in the sack.

“Good. Then you won?t mind doing a little publicity thing I?ve set up for you.”

“I am not going out with Hunter Locke again. The man is an idiot.”

“It?s nothing like that. It?s a print ad for Nike. You do the ad and the team gets a season?s worth of new gear, with an option for renewal if they like what they see.” Bearing yellowed teeth in a leering grin, he takes a long, slow look down her body and back up again, not quite meeting her glaring eyes.

“Why is it that every time I deal with you I feel like a street corner whore?”

He cocked his brow. “You don?t really want me to answer that do you.”

Her jaw was clenched so hard she feared for her teeth, but she managed to keep her hands unfisted and hanging limp at her sides, though in her mind, those same hands were wrapped around the bastard?s throat, squeezing the last ounce of life from his flabby body. “Fine,” she ground out. “Are we through here?”

Horace held out a folder. “All the details are in there. You be a good little coach and keep me happy, and I?ll stay away from the dyke.” His smile was brutal. “Send the wife in here on your way out.”

Dylan ground her teeth all the way home. Horace Johnson was an insufferable pig, and it was days like today when she wondered why in the hell she was still working for him.

Can?t back out now, Dylan. Too many people count on you.

As she pulled in the driveway, she couldn?t help but smile when she saw Cat?s truck idling. The blonde was sitting in the driver?s side with the window down and the radio louder than it needed to be. Pulling in behind the truck, she could tell she hadn?t been noticed.

Silencing the engine, she slipped out of the car and rose to her full, commanding height, the grin on her lips that of a hunter stalking prey. Quiet as a shadow, she moved to the truck and slid around so that she was standing before the open window. Bending so that her head came level with the in-the-clouds driver, she took in a breath, and expelled it in a gentle stream in the direction of Cat?s ear.

“Holyshit!!” Cat shouted, jumping in her seat and banging her head against the cab?s ceiling.

Dylan?s laughter only increased in volume at the black look Cat gave her as she rubbed her suddenly tender noggin. “You trying to kill me or what?”

“Sorry,” Dylan said, not sounding very sorry at all. “Want me to kiss it and make it better?”

“You wish,” Cat replied primly, reaching for the key and turning off the engine. Silence descended as she reached across the seat and grabbed a thick playbook. “The play diagrams you asked for, Coach.”

“Ah, back to that again, are we?”

“Hmmph.”

Opening the door, Dylan sketched a grand bow. “Would the Madame care to repair to the house? A lovely plum wine awaits her fine attentions.”

Unable to even pretend to be angry anymore, Cat finally cracked a smile and slid from the cab, hooking her arm through Dylan?s and allowing herself to be led into the cool confines of the large and beautiful house.

“Be good you two.”

Siegfried gave a very human sigh of disappointment and stalked back into the living room, head hanging. Brunhilde looked regally on, sitting still as a statue until Dylan gave her customary scratch behind the ears. Only then did she deign to join her brother in the other room.

Tossing the folder and the playbook on the table inside the door, Dylan turned to Cat, drew her into her arms, and kissed her long and deep. When they finally separated, she grinned down at Cat, who looked like she was trapped in her own dream world.

“I needed that,” the blonde finally managed as her eyes slowly opened.

“Me too. I had to spend part of my afternoon with Horace-the-bloodsucker-Johnson.”

“Eww.”

“Eww is right. God he makes my skin crawl. I want to take a hot shower.”

“That could be fun,” Cat offered with an evil grin.

“Yes, it could.” Dylan grabbed Cat?s wrist and headed the toward the bathroom. “Let?s go.”

Dylan laid on the floor, propped up on several fluffy pillows. Cat was lying with her head in the tall woman?s stomach, drawing lazy designs on a corded, naked thigh only inches away. She was completely relaxed, filled with the kind of blissful lassitude that only a hot shower and a bout of enthusiastic lovemaking could inspire.

Dylan was leafing through pages of the playbook, obviously impressed.

“These are really good, Cat. You may have the makings of a decent coach.” Looking over the top of the playbook, she playfully narrowed her eyes at her lover. “You?re not gunning for my job, are ya?”

“Hell no. You think I want to deal with the slug who walks like a man any more than I absolutely have to? No thanks. I?ll stick to playing. The coaching job is allll yours.”

Dylan let her fingers slip through Cat?s silky hair as she put the papers aside. “Thanks.”

“So what did the smarmy little bigot want this time?”

“His spies caught me having dinner with you and your folks last night.”

Cat rolled up to a sitting position, eyes wide. “Shit.”

“No, don?t worry about it. I convinced him it was harmless.” She sighed. “But that convincing came with a pricetag attached.”

Cat?s eyes narrowed. “What kind of a price?”

“He wants me to do some print ad for Nike. Gratis for me, lots of nice shiny new equipment for him.” She sighed again, shaking her head. “Manny is gonna shit bricks when he hears.”

“I don?t understand. Doesn?t your contract specify that you get a percentage of all those endorsement deals?”

“Yeah, but if you read between the lines, I need to scratch his ass for him when he asks.”

“Or?”

Dylan hesitated, but something in those flaring emerald eyes convinced her that the truth would be the only thing Cat would accept. “He comes down on us.”

“You mean me, don?t you.”

“Cat, it?s okay?.”

“No it isn?t, goddamnit!” Jumping to her feet, Cat began to pace. “Dylan, I will not have you whoring yourself just to protect me. It?s not right, damnit!”

Rising, Dylan put a tender hand on Cat?s shaking shoulder and gathered her into an embrace. Cat struggled for a moment, her anger overwhelming, but Dylan?s hold didn?t loosen, and after a moment, she gave into the inevitable, finally resting her hot face against the silken skin of her lover?s chest. “Sweetheart,” Dylan murmured in a low, soothing voice, “when I said it was alright, I meant it. This?whoring?isn?t anything new for me. It?s all part of the game I?ve been playing since High School. It was just a lot more discrete back then. Do you think anyone was paying me to be seen at oh-so public events with Thad Hunter or any one of the legion of men I?ve been seen with over the years?” When Cat didn?t answer, she continued. “If he couldn?t use you as an excuse, he would have come up with another one, or even none at all. It?s part of the game, and I accept that.”

“It?s not fair,” Cat mumbled, her anger slowly leaking away in the strength of Dylan?s embrace.

“No, it isn?t. But if it keeps him off my back, and lets me have some peace in my life, it?s worth it. I have no regrets.”

Cat slowly lifted her head, eyes shining with tears not-quite dried. “None?”

“None.” And with that, Dylan lowered her head and gave Cat a kiss that erased every single doubt?and every single thought?from Cat?s head.

An hour later, they were back in their same positions on the floor, sipping the promised plum wine as their heated bodies slowly cooled. With an idle hand, Cat flipped open the folder that Dylan had dropped on their nest when she came back with the wine. What she saw caused her to choke on that wine, and she sat up, eyes glued to the glossy print in front of her. “Jesus Christ!!”

“What?” Dylan asked, startled out of her pleasant daze. “What is it?”

“This!” Cat shouted, thrusting the paper into her partner?s face.

Taking the glossy, Dylan examined it, impressed with the attention to detail. It was an incredibly lifelike drawing of two figures?herself and Marquis Jackson, the reigning king of the NBA?pressed chest to chest, belly to belly, melded together all along their lengths. Sweat beaded brightly against their naked skin; his a deep ebony, hers a beautifully contrasting ivory. Both were naked save for their feet. Marquis was clad in white Nikes with a black swoosh, and Dylan in the opposite. Artistically, it was breathtaking, and she understood fully why Johnson was salivating over it. If it looked this good as a simple drawing, Dylan could only imagine what it would look like with live bodies and expert photography.

“You?re not saying anything,” Cat commented in a dangerously low voice. “Why aren?t you saying anything?”

Dylan lowered the mock-up and found herself bathed in pure green fire. She fancied she could feel her insides roasting under the heat of Cat?s glare and was, quite uncharacteristically, at a complete loss for words.

Cat?s eyes narrowed to slits. “Don?t tell me you don?t see anything wrong with this?this?.this?travesty!”

So, this is what being caught between Scylla and Charibdes feels like. Shit.

Cat?s eyes gradually widened at Dylan?s continuing silence, and she peered down at her lover, examining her like some particularly atrocious species of bug she?d just discovered stuck to the bottom of her shoe. “You don?t see anything wrong with this, do you.” Her voice was deceptively soft, but carried the thunder of a summer storm in its undertones. “I don?t believe this.”

Coming to her feet, she grabbed for her clothes in a series of jerky motions so unlike her usual smooth grace that Dylan could only stare in stunned disbelief. Finally, she found her voice and coaxed it out of hiding. “Cat?”

Pulling on her t-shirt, and not realizing it was inside out, Cat pinned her lover with another glare. “No. You just?do whatever it is you feel you have to do. I know where the door is. I?ll let myself out.”

“But?.”

“Goodnight, Coach. I?ll see you at practice tomorrow.”

Everything in Dylan wanted to jump up and prevent Cat from following through on her actions, but her more rational mind told her it would be one of the larger mistakes in her life to go after Cat now, when she was this angry. At her.

She was totally unaware of crumbling the glossy mock-up in one clenching fist as she watched, helplessly, as Cat stalked from the house, slamming the door behind her.

Dylan collapsed against the pillows, running her free hand through her hair. “Fuck.”

Cat cried all the way home. She cried once she was inside the door. She cried as she lay across her bed, wishing she could stop crying.

Why should she be mad? Dylan was a grown woman and if she wanted to do pornographic ads that was up to her. She didn?t have anything but a few nights of ?

Of what?

Cat considered it. She had blurted out to Dylan that she loved her. Did she love her or was she just saying that because her mother had pushed the envelope?

She rolled over on her back, angrily swiping at her cheeks to keep the tears from rolling down her face. String at the ceiling of her bedroom, she considered it. When she was with Dylan she felt things she had never felt before. And she knew it wasn?t just the physical aspect.

When she was with Dylan she felt ten feet tall. She felt smart, funny, and more mature. Dylan made her stomach flutter, made her heart pound and made her brain mushy. All the feelings she felt were good. This was the first time she?d ever felt bad when it came to dealing with the tall woman.

Obviously Dylan didn?t feel the same way. She hadn?t responded to Cat?s declaration of love in any way. Now Catherine realized all the older woman had done that night was get her clamed down before telling her they would talk later and ending the call.

Dylan didn?t love her. That was becoming perfectly clear to the young woman.

If Dylan had felt anything that remotely resembled love she would have agreed not to do the ad simply out of respect for her lover.

If you love someone, you don?t do anything to purposely upset them, do you?

Cat asked herself this question over and over as she finally felt the last traces of Dylan?s touch leave her body and she slipped into an emotionally exhausted slumber.

Dylan laid across her large bed, naked save for the T-shirt she?d hastily yanked on after Cat had stormed from the house. Ever vigilant to their Mistress? moods, Siegfried, the chicken, had repaired to the far corner of the house, while Brunhilde laid with her head in Dylan?s lap, looking up at her with eyes both sorrowful and compassionate. Dylan stroked Brunhilde?s sleek head with an absent hand as she peered at the smoothed-out ad mock-up held in the other.

As she looked at the ad, the voices of Horace and Cat swirled through her head in an unending loop, only serving to increase the pain in her head and in her heart.

“Why is it that every time I deal with you I feel like a street corner whore?”

“You don?t really want me to answer that do you.”

“You don?t see anything wrong with this, do you.”

“You be a good little coach and keep me happy, and I?ll stay away from the dyke.”

“No. You just?do whatever it is you feel you have to do.”

“You be a good little coach and keep me happy, and I?ll stay away from the dyke.”

“Goodnight, Coach. I?ll see you at practice tomorrow.”

“You be a good little coach and keep me happy, and I?ll stay away from the dyke.”

“I know where the door is. I?ll let myself out.”

Tossing the glossy away as if it had suddenly grown fangs and was threatening to bite, Dylan cradled her head in both hands, her face set in a hard grimace, teeth bared, eyes tightly closed. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, FUCK!!!”

Morning was not kind to the young woman, but as she stood in the blistering hot shower, she came to a serious decision. It was time to walk away from Dylan Lambert and chalk her time with the woman up to life experience.

She was old enough to know she was young and that most people go through several lovers before they find the ?right? one. Apparently Dylan wasn?t the right one.

Even as her brain processed all this, her heart hurt and she knew it would be a long time before it stopped aching. She had believed that Dylan was the one.

Dressing in her sweats she packed her bag for practice and fed the dog. He looked up at her with sad brown eyes. He knew something was wrong, but there was little he could do to help his human.

Cat drove to the arena and dressed with little chatter as the rest of her teammates tried to bring her out of her funk. They knew if she was in a bad mood she wouldn?t play well and it would aggravate the coach who would work them harder.

Chaney sat down and bumped shoulder with the blonde. “You okay?”

“Yeah I?m fine.”

“You act like someone pissed in you Wheaties.”

“You could say that.”

“Okay look, you know I?m here for you and you can sit up and have a bitchfest of epic proportions, but after practice. Try and cheer up to Coach will kick our butts.”

“?Kay. Hey Chane?”

“Yeah?”

” Can we go out after practice? I just need someone to talk to.”

“Absolutely.”

“Great. Thanks.”

“No problem shortchange.”

Cat took a deep breath and decided that her teammates shouldn?t pay for her stupid mistake. She plastered a smile on her face and headed out to the court.

The smile fell away when she saw Dylan. She sucked in a quick breath and fortified herself as she walked over to where everyone was looking at a diagram of a new play.

“Cat,” Dylan said with a smile and a nod.

“Coach,” Cat replied never taking her eyes off the diagram.

Suddenly Chaney knew who pissed in Catherine?s Wheaties. Oh boy.

Sitting on a locker-room bench, Cat was tying her sneakers and deep in thought when a hand on her shoulder almost launched her into orbit.

“Hey.”

Dylan?s voice was low and vibrant as it hovered in the still, humid air of the locker room, filling Cat with a warmth she was quick to quash. “Hi,” she relied, her tone cool and clipped.

“Do you have a minute?”

“Actually,” she replied, making a show of looking at her watch, “I?ve got plans for this evening. Unless it?s about work, it?s going to have to wait.”

The warmth of Dylan?s hand and presence was withdrawn as the tall woman straightened. Her expression was carefully neutral, though Cat thought she caught just the tiniest fleeting glimpse of pain in those remarkable eyes before it was immediately masked.

Or perhaps that was just wishful thinking on her part.

“I?ll see you tomorrow, then.”

And like that, Dylan was gone, and the pain Cat thought she saw in Dylan?s eyes settled instead around her own heart. With a heavy sigh, she lifted herself from the bench, grabbed her duffle, and left the garishly painted locker-room, her mind a jumble of thoughts and emotions, none of them pleasant.

Chaney sat in the back booth of the restaurant, watching Cat pick at her pasta. Her friend had been quiet all night and the player knew something was definitely wrong. While Cat Hodges was many things, quiet was not among them.

“Okay, you gonna tell me what?s wrong, or are we going to just sit here all night and listen to our hair grow?”

Cat looked up from her now tepid dish and tried to smile but failed miserably. She dropped her gaze back to her plate again, cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

“C?mon, Cat, whatever it is, it can?t be that bad. Can it?” Many scenarios were running through her head, most of them having to do with the mega cold shoulder Cat had given their coach all through practice. The attitude was very much unlike the woman she?d come to know, and it puzzled her, distracting her enough to get called out by Herr Caulley and forced to do windsprints till her lungs threatened a dramatic exit through her mouth.

“Have you ever been in love?”

The question, from seemingly out of nowhere, so derailed Chaney?s train of thought that she almost choked on the water she?s sipping. It was only with the greatest of difficulty that she managed to force the liquid down the right pipe, and the resulting prolonged silence caused Cat?s cheeks to flush again.

“Sorry. I didn?t mean to pry.”

“You didn?t pry,” Chaney forced out quickly, holding up a hand as she replaced her glass back on the table. “I just?wasn?t expecting the question is all.”

“Oh.” Cat?s voice was very small.

Chaney decided that “matter of fact” was probably the best approach. “Yeah,” she remarked casually, “I did the love thing once or twice. How come?”

Cat?s mouth worked soundlessly for several seconds, and her head dropped, tendrils of fine golden hair hiding her chagrinned features. “It?s?.“she finally managed, “?nothing.”

“Course it?s something, Shortchange,” Chaney replied, reaching over and laying a hand on Cat?s wrist. “You been acting like someone ran over your dog all damn day. So?what is it? I won?t laugh at you or nothing. You know that.” A moment later. “You got girl troubles?”

Cat laughed. It wasn?t a happy sound, but it beat crying, she supposed. Especially in the middle of a crowded restaurant. “You?could say that.”

“What happened?” Chaney?s face went dead serious as she sat up straight in her chair, muscles tense. “Bitch cheat on you?”

Cat looked up, startled. “No! No, not at all.”

“Hit you?”

“No!! No. We, um, we just had a fight, that?s all. You know, yelling, stuff like that.”

Chaney?s face cleared. “A fight? Damn, girl, ain?t no one told you fighting?s good for a relationship?” She leered. “Especially the make-up sex part.”

Blushing to the roots of her hair, Cat buried her flaming face in her hands and groaned.

Squeezing the wrist beneath her hand, Chaney grinned, then sat back in her chair, picking up her glass and finishing her water in one healthy gulp. “This your first serious relationship?” she asked after a time.

Cat looked back up at her, a rosy flush still faintly tinting her cheeks. “First? No. But it was the most serious.”

“Was? You tossing in the towel over a fight?” Chaney shook her head. “Musta been one hell of a row.”

“No. It?.” She sighed. “When you were, you know, with someone, did they ever want to do something that you were totally against? I mean completely?”

“You mean like screw someone else or do something illegal?”

“No. No, not like that. Just?something you didn?t agree with, and something that surprised you because you thought they wouldn?t agree with it either?” She peeked at Chaney. “Am I making any sense here?”

“Yeah, yeah. Hang on, lemme think a minute.” Her face cleared. “I was going out with this dude once, during college. It had been kinda casual for a long time, but then it started getting more serious, ya know? Anyway, it was getting close to spring break, and I was all about getting ready for the tourney and shit. He wasn?t ever into b-ball, which is probably why we got along so well.”

“What happened?” Cat asked.

Chaney shrugged. “I figured he?d do the whole tourney thing, but he told me he?d gotten the deal of a lifetime, to go to Maui with his frat boys and their sister house on spring break.” She chuckled, shaking her head over the memories. “Man, we fought like fuckin? banshees over that, lemme clue you.”

“And then what?”

Chaney shrugged again. “We talked. Worked it out. Both of us had things that we would never get the chance to do again. So we did ?em.”

“We did that,” Cat said.

“What? Talked?”

“Yea! She wouldn?t?she wouldn?t?.” She stopped as her face drained of its color. “Fuck.”

“What?” Chaney asked, startled. “What?s wrong?”

Cat was silent for a few moments, playing the conversation with Dylan over in her head. “Jesus,” she whispered.

“What?” Chaney demanded. “What is it? Damnit, woman, you?re scaring me over here!”

“?You?re not saying anything. Why aren?t you saying anything??”

“What? Cat, we need to get you some help. Quick. You?re going nutzo on me. I?ve been talking to you!”

“No. No. I just remembered. When D?” She stopped herself just in time. “When we had that fight. We weren?t talking. I was talking. Yelling. Screaming. Storming off like some kid who just got told they couldn?t go to the prom. Damnit! How could I have been so damned stupid?!”

“Hey, man,” Chaney said softly, closing her large hand over Cat?s wrist gently. “It?s all cool. If she loves you, she?ll forgive you. Just talk to her.”

“That?s just it.” Cat?s sad gaze met her friend?s. “I don?t know if she loves me.”

“You don?t?”

“No. She?s never said.”

“Oh hell, Shortchange, you need the words? Does she act like she loves you?”

Cat didn?t even need to think about that one. “Yes. She does.”

“Well, there ya go then. And if you need to hear the ?l-word? so bad, then just ask her!”

“I?I don?t know if I could do that.”

“Shit, woman, you?re ready to give up now! What damage could be done by asking her? You?ve already decided what the answer is gonna be, without even givin? her the benefit of the doubt.”

“Am I?? Shit. That?s exactly what I?m doing, isn?t it.”

“Yeah. It is, Shortchange. Now, I?m not sayin? that whatever it was that you?re arguin? about is a good or bad thing, cause I don?t know, and I don?t think I wanna know. But?don?t ya think maybe you should talk to her first? Then make a decision based on what she says, rather than what you think she?s gonna say?”

“I?I don?t know.” When she met Chaney?s eyes again, her expression was bleak. “I?m scared.”

“Aww.” Standing, Chaney walked around the table, squatted down, and gathered Cat into her arms, offering comfort the best way she knew how. “It?s okay, Shortchange. We all get scared over these things sometimes. We?re human, ya know?” Pulling back, she smiled at her friend. “G?wan home and think things over, Cat. I know you?ll make the right move. You?re smart like that.”

Cat offered a tremulous smile, wiping at leaking eyes. “I don?t?.”

“You do. Now git!”

“But the check—!”

“You let me take care of that. You?ll owe me big time later. Now go.”

With effort, Cat managed to stand. “Thanks, Chane,” she whispered.

“Anytime, Shortchange. See ya tomorrow at practice, ok?”

“Ok.”

Chaney returned to her seat after Cat left the restaurant and, after a moment, a stunned, amazed grin spread over her face. “Holy shit!” she whispered. “Cat?s shaggin the Coach!”

Early the next morning, before the sun had fully risen, Cat found herself outside of Dylan?s house, pacing nervously back and forth next to her car and having an intense, if internal, conversation. Alright, Cat. You can do this. It?s not like she?s gonna bite your head off or anything. She?s a reasonable person, right? Right. So go up there, tell her you acted like a total ass, beg her for her forgiveness, and?

She?d never been able to get past that stupid ?and? part despite her best efforts.

Before she had a chance to screw on her courage, the door opened and Dylan peered out, her face a mask of non-emotion, one eyebrow raised. “Would you like to come in, or were you planning on standing out there all morning talking to yourself?”

Startled, Cat blushed a deep red, shamed at being caught out like this. She fought down the almost overwhelming urge to jump back into her car and drive away. “I?m sorry. I?.”

Taking a step back, Dylan opened the door wider in invitation. “C?mon in.”

Slowly, with hesitant steps, Cat approached the house and slipped inside, careful not to touch the woman holding the door, lest her hard-fought resolutions crumble away to dust.

Respecting the space between them, Dylan led Cat into the living room and gestured for her to take a seat on the couch. Dylan looked down at her, hands hanging loose at her sides. “Was there something you wanted?”

“I?um?.” her voice trailed off as she realized, for the first time, what Dylan was wearing. Clad in black dress slacks and a pale blue silk top that set off the color of her eyes, Dylan was, to Cat?s eyes, a vision. “I?m keeping you from something. I should just—.”

“I have time,” Dylan replied, her voice level. “The photo-shoot?s at ten.”

“That?s,” Cat stated quickly, “what I wanted to talk to you about.”

“Go on.”

“I wanted?I?God, this is hard.” She sighed, looking down at her clasped hands. “I wanted to say that I was?sorry?for acting like an ass the other night. I wish I could say that I didn?t know what came over me, but the truth is, I do. I was? jealous.” Taking a deep breath, she let the rest of the words tumble out. “I was jealous, and instead of talking to you about my feelings, I battered you with them, then ran away like an idiot. I acted irrationally, and I?m sorry.”

Winding down, she continued to stare at her hands until to silence became too uncomfortable to bear. Sneaking a peek up at Dylan through her lashes, she swallowed hard at the mask the tall woman wore. Her heart clenched hard in her chest, and she fancied she could feel it fracture. The sting of tears came to her eyes, but she blinked them away before they could fall.

Never again, she told herself, unclasping her hands and setting them on the couch, prepared to push herself up and leave. I?ll never put my heart on the line again. It?s just too damn painful.

As she stood, she turned her face away from Dylan, unable to look at that stony mask one second more. “I?guess I?ll see you at practice, then. I?m sorry to have taken up your time.”

She had almost made it to the door when Dylan?s soft voice halted her steps.

“Why were you jealous?”

“That?s a good question,” Cat replied, barely aware she was speaking aloud. “I?ve thought about it a lot during these past couple days, and I don?t think I can come up with an answer that would satisfy even me.”

The silence behind her gained weight, oppressive as only such silences could ever be. Her heart beating so fast and so hard that she was sure it would pound itself right out of her chest, Cat gathered every scrap of courage she ever possessed, and gave voice to the one question she wanted?needed?answered.

“Dylan,” she began softly, so softly that Dylan, even with her exceptional hearing, had to strain to hear her, “do you love me?”

Silence reigned again, for just a moment. “Excuse me?”

Whirling, Cat pinned Dylan in place with a gaze that was open, honest, and deadly serious. “I need to know. Do you love me?”

“Yes.”

It was amazing, Cat mused, how that one simple word could restore hope to a heart gone cold. Still, the smile that might have been expected stayed from her lips. “I think?I think that maybe part of my?jealousy?came from not?knowing?that.” The silence was still thick, and Cat found herself turning her head away yet again. “I know it sounds like I?m dumping all of this on you, but I?m not. Not really. I guess I was just?scared?.”

Not sensing any movement, Cat was startled at the sudden feel of long, strong arms wrapping themselves around her and the press of a tight, lean body against to hers. Emotionally drained, she could do nothing but melt into the enveloping warmth, her hands coming up to tangle in the fabric of Dylan?s shirt as if holding onto a lifeline. “I?m sorry,” she whispered, voice muffled against the fabric covering her lover?s chest. “I?m so sorry.”

“It?s okay,” Dylan murmured, brushing her hand against Cat?s back in soothing circles. “It?s okay. I?m here. It?s okay.” After a moment, she pulled away slightly and gently tipped the younger woman?s chin up so that their eyes met. “I love you, Catherine. I?m sorry that it?s taken me this long to tell you how I feel. I?m so?.”

“No,” Cat replied, touching a finger against Dylan?s full lips, “please, don?t apologize for my insecurities. My heart knew your answer before I even asked the question. I know you love me, and I knew it then. I just?.”

“Cat, if this photo shoot bothers you so much, I?ll call Horace and tell him to shove it. I don?t want you hurting like this.”

“Dylan, I can?t ask that of you, and I won?t. This is a part of who you are, a part of who you?ve always been. I absolutely hate the way you were coerced into it, and I hate being a part of that, but I also realize that it bothers me a lot more than it bothers you.” She smiled. “I trust you. I think?I think I just need to learn how to trust myself.”

Dylan was silent for such a long time that Cat began to fear that she?d misspoken. Finally, the tall woman?s expression cleared and she looked down at her partner intently. “If you don?t have any plans for the morning, why not come to the shoot with me?”

“Oh,” Cat demurred, “I?m not sure I?.”

“Please. I think it would really help you to see what goes on during these things. I think you?ve built an image up in your mind that nothing but experience is gonna erase. I don?t want that image coming between us, Cat.”

Cat looked up at her pensively.

“Please.”

Taking in the naked plea in those arresting eyes, Cat can do nothing but not her acceptance. The kiss she received in thanks drove any further apprehension from her mind.

The photography studio was large and well-appointed, and Cat found her nerves settling just a little as they walked in and were greeted by Cory, the photographer?s assistant. Cory was a well dressed, reed thin young man with a thick mop of curly red hair and a bubbly, welcoming personality. Leading them over to a nattily upholstered couch in the rather large sitting room off to one side, he slipped a bottle of juice into Dylan?s hand and a steaming cup of coffee into Cat?s. “Now you just wait right here and I?ll get Wendy. She?s putting the finishing touches on the layout.”

Dylan and Cat exchanged amused looks as he hurried off, babbling to himself. Quaffing her juice in several large gulps, Dylan stood to throw the bottle away just as the chimes above the door sounded. Straightening, she grinned as the immaculately dressed and almost criminally handsome Marquis Jackson strode through the door, followed by his equally exquisite wife Marcelle.

Spying Dylan, Marquis beamed and moved to engulf her in a massive hug which Dylan returned in full measure. Cat looked on, astonished at seeing her lover so dwarfed. They were both of a height, but Jackson was much broader across the shoulders and chest, making Dylan look almost petite within the enshrouding shelter of his massive arms. Finally pulling away, he grinned at her, white teeth flashing brilliantly against the ebony of his skin. “Damn, girl! You?re looking fine! Where?ve you been, lately?”

“Around,” Dylan replied, turning to the young woman standing at Marquis? side. “Marcelle, it?s good to see you again.”

Laughing lightly, genuinely, Marcelle stepped into Dylan?s fond embrace and gave her a soft kiss on the cheek. “He?s right,” she said. “You look wonderful.”

“So do you. You been keeping him in line?”

“Oh,” Marcelle smirked, “he knows what side his bread?s buttered on.”

The three shared a laugh. Dylan then turned to Cat and held out a hand. Coming to her feet, Cat crossed the room and smiled at the newcomers. Marquis Jackson she recognized easily?who wouldn?t? He was to men?s basketball what Dylan was to women?s. The best player ever. When he turned his smile on her, she had, she admitted silently, a bit of a fan geek moment, though it was nothing compared to the feeling that came over her when she heard Dylan?s casually spoken words.

“Marquis, Marcelle, I?d like you to meet Catherine Hodges, my partner.”

“Oh ho!” Marcelle quipped, turning to Cat with a wide, knowing grin. “So you?re the reason she?s been behaving herself, huh?”

Cat found herself blushing deeply as the beautiful woman bent forward and gave her a hug. “You take good care of her, alright?” Marcelle whispered in her ear. “She means a lot to us.”

“I will,” Cat replied, dazed. “I promise.”

Her sense of unreality trebled as Marquis stepped over and hugged her tightly, the scent of his cologne tingling pleasantly in her nose. “I?ve seen you on TV,” he said, finally pulling away. “You?re pretty damn good!”

Tongue tied, she could only blink at him, wondering if pinching herself to assure herself this wasn?t a dream was proper protocol in such a situation.

Dylan?s arm around her shoulder thankfully brought her back to planet Earth before she could embarrass herself any further. She felt herself being led back to the couch, and she lowered herself, a bit unsteadily, then offered a smile to Marcelle who eased in beside her.

“First time at one of these shindigs?”

“Yes,” Cat replied, quite pleased at her ability to actually utter those words aloud. A few feet away, Dylan and Marquis were deep in conversation about something. Basketball, probably.

“They?re not too bad, once you get used to having the one you love prowl around half naked like some porn star for all the world to see.”

Reality came back to Cat in a flash, and she looked over at Marcelle, stunned. “You feel that way too?”

“Not as much anymore,” the young woman replied. “But at first, yeah, it was pretty bad.”

“Bad how?”

“You know, the usual.” She shrugged. “Jealousy, mostly.”

“Been there, definitely done that! What made it better for you?”

Marcelle lifted an elegant hand. “Watching what goes on behind the scenes. It?s work, plain and simple. They know it, I know it, and after this, you?ll know it too.”

“I hope you?re right,” Cat grumbled, slumping back against the couch.

“You?ll see.”

At that moment, Cory stepped back into the room, trailed by a young, attractive, blonde-haired, woman who was even shorter than Cat herself. Stopping before Dylan and Marquis, she greeted them with a friendly grin, then murmured something to them both. Nodding, they left the room behind the ever-efficient Cory. The young woman then turned her bright grin on Cat and Marcelle, approaching them with a quick, no-nonsense step. “Mrs. Jackson, it?s a pleasure to see you again.”

“Hey, Wendy,” Marcelle returned with a grin. “You?re gonna take care of him, right? He?s just getting over a pulled hamstring.”

“I promise to have him back in one piece.”

“I like the way you think, girl.”

When the young photographer turned to Cat, her grin became a little shy. “Ms. Hodges. It?s an honor to meet you, Ma?am.”

“Cat, please,” she replied, charmed.

To Cat?s surprise, the photographer blushed, just slightly. “Ah, yes, well?I?ve set up a couple of chairs a little closer to the action, if you ladies would like to follow me?”

As Wendy moved away, Marcelle stood and tipped a wink to Cat. “Looks like D isn?t the only one with a fan club, hmm?”

It was Cat?s turn to blush.

Laughing, Marcelle led the way to the two director?s style chairs that were set up to the left of the shooting area, which displayed a plain white backdrop, a professional lighting setup, a tripod, and several cameras.

As she settled herself in, Cat looked to Marcelle, who was giving the area a casual once over. “Marquis and Dylan seem like good friends. Have you guys known each other long?”

“Since college. Marquis and I were high school sweethearts, and we both went to UCLA on scholarship. Marquis, of course, for basketball.”

“And you?”

Marcelle smiled. “Pre-law.”

“Impressive. I?ve always been interested in law.”

“Well, I passed the bar, but I?m not practicing.”

“Why?”

“I like traveling with Marquis too much, and he likes having me there, so?.” She shrugged. “When he retires, I?ll set up a nice little estate law practice somewhere and work to my heart?s content.”

Before Cat could ask anymore questions, the door to the back room opened and Marquis stepped out. Cat?s jaw dropped as if unhinged and she felt her eyes actually press from their sockets. He strode confidently across the room, more god than man, his ebony skin oiled to a high sheen, his muscles rippling and cut to diamond perfection. He was naked save for white high-top Nikes and a black g-string that would have left absolutely nothing to the imagination?had there been anything to look at.

“It?s called ?tucking?.”

Marcelle?s amused voice cut through Cat?s haze and she found herself, once again, blushing furiously. “I?um?I?.”

Marcelle?s laughter was rich and full as she reached over and gave Cat?s shoulder a friendly smack. “Breathe, my friend. It?s alright.”

Any breath Cat might have taken whooshed right out of her as the door opened again and Dylan stepped through. “Blessed Mary,” she gasped, her eyes wide and round as saucers.

Like Marquis, every inch of Dylan?s magnificent form was oiled to a high, wet gloss. Her engorged muscles, shot through with plump veins, were chiseled, standing out in bas relief against the flawless silk of her skin. Her hair, wet and drawn off of her face, trailed down her back in a shining, fat ebony braid, throwing her striking features into high, gorgeous definition. And like her photo mate, she was also naked, save for black high top Nikes, a flesh-colored g-string. A pair of small pasties had been added in deference to her gender.

“They make a beautiful couple, don?t they.”

Marcelle could have been speaking Martian for all Cat understood of her words. Her body was too busy trying to coerce her into doing something that was illegal in thirty seven states. At least in public. And when Cory entered the frey, water bottle in hand, and started spritzing “fake sweat” on them both, she considered chucking it all and dragging Dylan off somewhere a little more private.

Like the middle of Times Square.

On New Year?s Eve.

At this point, even the parking lot would do in a pinch.

Or that nice roomy couch just a few short steps away.

Mmm.

“Earth to Cat.” A dark, perfectly manicured hand waved itself before her dazed eyes. “Earth to Cat, come in, Cat. Yoo hoo. You in there?”

Blinking, Cat forced herself out of a fantasy that was growing more lurid by the second. “Hmm?”

A warm hand on her shoulder completed the break, and she found herself looking up into the concerned eyes of her partner.

“You ok?”

“Mm? Me? Juuuuust fine.”

Snorting softly, Dylan rolled her eyes, and gave Cat?s shoulder a fond squeeze before stepping away. “Keep an eye on her, will ya?” she asked Marcelle as she moved to stand beside Marquis.

“And off of your beautiful bod? Not a chance!”

“Hey!” Cat snapped, grinning. “You just keep your eyes on that gorgeous god of a husband you?ve got there, missy. I?ll keep my eyes on Dylan, thank you very much.”

The room broke up into relieved laughter, and with that, the session started.

“Jesus,” Cat murmured, looking down at the stark, black and white proof in her hand. The image of Dylan and Marquis, shining and covered with sweat, melded face to face, chest to chest, belly to belly, thigh to thigh was quite possibly the most erotic thing she?d ever seen. “I think Nike?s gonna have a banner year when this baby hits the newsstands.”

“Screw Nike,” Marcelle exclaimed, holding her own proof. “I?m gonna use this to wallpaper the bedroom! My folks?ve been pestering us for grandkids. This baby just might do the trick!”

Cat laughed, but couldn?t disagree, given how her body felt this very moment just looking at the picture before her.

Just then, the door opened and Cory emerged, followed by the stars of the show, dressed in their street clothes. Dylan?s hair was still swept back off her face, and Cat gave a little internal cheer. She had plans, big ones, and this image of her lover fit into them perfectly.

“Was it as bad as you thought it was gonna be?” Dylan asked, coming to stand beside her and slipping a companionable arm around her shoulder.

“You can invite me to one of these shindigs any time you want to, my dear.”

Dylan grinned. “I had a feeling you might see it my way.” She looked up, then released Cat to give Marcelle and Marquis a hug. “Good luck the rest of the season, Marquis.”

“You too, D. And listen, Marcelle and I are gonna be having a dinner party in about a month or so. Just some of the old gang, you know, kick back, shoot the shit. You and Cat are invited, alright?”

“Please say you?ll come,” Marcelle interjected sincerely. “We miss you!”

“Wouldn?t miss it,” Dylan replied after exchanging glances with Cat.

“Great!” Marquis replied, turning to Cat. “Good to meet you, li?l Cat. Keep cool, alright?”

“I?ll do my best. Good luck on your season.”

“Thanks!” Miming a fake jumper from the top of the key, he gathered his grinning wife and, like that, they were gone.

“Shall we?” Dylan asked.

“After you.”

Once they were situated in the car, Dylan checked her watch. “Well, we?ve got about an hour or so to kill. Wanna get to the arena early and warm up a little?”

“Only if we stop by your office first,” Cat replied, glancing down at the photo she still held in her hand.

“My office?”

“Oh yeah.”

“But wh—?”

She was stopped by a finger to her lips.

“Believe me, Dylan. Either we get to your office in, oh, the next five minutes or so, or I?m not gonna be responsible for what the police might see when they tour this parking lot.”

The light finally dawned, causing Dylan to grin. “My office it is.”

“Hurry.”

“Sweet?.Jesus!” Cat gasped out before collapsing atop her lover?s long, sweat-slicked form. Her heart was thundering in her chest, and her muscles, those few that were still working, seemed to have a mind of their own.

Gentle hands trailed through her hair and down her back, calming her as she shuddered with the last vestiges of her explosive climax. “It?s ok,” Dylan whispered. “It?s alright, sweetheart, just breathe. You?re okay.”

Calming at last, Cat tipped her head up and pressed her lips against Dylan?s neck, just beneath her jaw, tasting the salty flesh with a hum of pleasure. “I love you,” she murmured.

“Mm. I love you too, sweetheart. Oh, that feels nice.”

“I know.” Moving over just slightly, she stroked a hand down the muscled flesh beneath her, stopping briefly to trace the tip of one finger around Dylan?s bellybutton, causing a muffled snort from her companion.

“Ticklish?” Cat teased as her finger began another circle.

“Be good.” The tall woman growled playfully, catching her lover?s hand up in her own.

“Oh, I plan on being very good, my love.” Pulling her hand away, she trailed her fingers further down, soon encountering a scorching, velvet heat. Stroking through it, her fingers weaved nonsensical patterns over Dylan?s swollen flesh. She smiled as she felt Dylan?s hips begin to move against her, their flesh sliding together in a sensual dance that quickened her breathing once again.

Cat felt long, strong fingers tangle in her hair and opened her eyes to see blazing indigo staring down at her. The hunger in Dylan?s eyes took her breath away, and the incendiary kiss that followed robbed her lungs completely. Cat swallowed her lover?s low moan as her fingers continued to circle and stroke, gliding easily in the slick wetness that was all but pouring over her hand.

Dylan finally broke the kiss, turning her head away as her lips parted and groaning pants filled the room with their sensual music. “Cat?.”

“Yes, love?.”

“Cat?.I?.God!” Dylan?s head moved back and forth on the couch?s arm, the wet tendrils of her hair sliding across the leather like a snake. Her entire body undulated under Cat?s knowledgeable caresses. One long leg slid off the couch, opening her fully to her lover.

“What is it?” Cat purred. “What can I do?” She moved her fingers more firmly in a slow, swirling pattern that she knew Dylan loved.

“I?God!?I?.”

“Tell me, lover.”

“Fuck me. God?just?fuck me.”

With a low laugh, Cat did as she was bid, sliding her fingers deep within and twisting them as she withdrew.

Dylan?s cry of relief was nearly a sob as her whole body sprung into motion, hips pistoning against Cat?s steady, twisting thrusts. “So deep,” she moaned. “God, you?re so deep.”

“Let it come,” Cat whispered. “Feel me, and let it come.” Increasing the force of her thrusts, she lowered her head, blindly seeking out a rock hard nipple and sucking it into her mouth. With one final thrust, she bit down, and held on as Dylan released beneath her, crying out her name over and over and over again until finally, she sunk back into the softness of leather, completely spent.

Slowly withdrawing, Cat gently cupped Dylan?s mound and released the nipple from her mouth, laying upon it a tender kiss before resting her head on her lover?s still heaving chest. “I love you, you know.”

That earned her a full body hug from muscles that were still trembling. With a sweet smile, she burrowed in, needing nothing more than to listen to Dylan?s heart as it slowly, valiantly calmed.

Cat woke up from a short doze, blinked, and lifted her head, chuckling lightly.

“What?” Dylan asked, her own voice muzzy.

“I can?t believe we just made love on your office couch. In the middle of the day. When anyone could have walked right in and had themselves an eyeful.”

“Nah,” Dylan replied, stretching her long body taut, then collapsing back against the damp leather. “Made sure the door was locked.” One blue eye popped open. “I think.”

Cat?s head jerked up, eyes wide. “Dylan!?!”

Dylan laughed and gathered her lover close. “Just kidding. I gave the office staff the rest of the day off, remember?”

“Hardly,” Cat snorted. “My mind wasn?t exactly on conversation at the time.”

“Mm. You?re right.” The husky purr threatened spark the bonfire once again, and she groaned.

“You realize that the coach has made it quite impossible for her point guard to practice today, don?t you?”

“Practice started an hour ago,” Dylan replied, then tightened her hold on her lover to prevent Cat from bolting. “Relax, sweetheart. I already called us in sick.”

“Sick?! You called us in sick!?”

Dylan lifted her head and peered down at her companion, one eyebrow raised. “Would you rather I told them the truth?”

“I suppose you?re right.”

“?Course I am.” Long arms tightened around Cat as she shivered. “Cold?”

“As hard as it is for me to believe, seeing as I?m lying on top of a thermonuclear furnace, yeah. A little.”

“Guess we should get up and put on some clothes, then.”

“Don?t wanna.”

Dylan chuckled. “Well, I know of another way we could warm up.”

“Don?t start. It?ll be hard enough for me to walk out of here under my own power as it is. We keep this up, and you?ll be calling me out ?sick? for the rest of the week!”

“And that would be a bad thing?why?” Lowering her head, Dylan captured her lover?s tender lips, tracing them with the very tip of her fluttering tongue before delving inside and tasting her sweetness.

“Sick days rule,” Cat murmured as they finally eased apart, gaining purchase on slippery flesh and welcoming Dylan?s long frame on top of her.

Cat sat on the bench with her head down and her eyes closed. This was the game, the game she had been anticipating and dreading all at the same time.

This was the game that would decide the Badgers’ fate. A win would send them to the play-offs. A loss would keep them from the championship this year and they would do their best to finish out the year on a high note.

Cat knew it wasn?t true in the long run, but she felt like this game would make or break her professional career. As a rookie, if she could help her team with this win, she would be set; if they lost she would bet that Horace would find a reason to get rid of her. By contract he couldn?t fire her but he could sure as hell trade her to some team that had five fans.

In her current contemplative state, she was barely aware of the chatter around her. Her teammates were their normal, boisterous selves. They were laughing, singing and doing their normal pre-game dances as they prepared to go out and play. She looked up when Chaney went dancing by and nudged her knee. Continuing to scan the room she could see Dylan in her office on the phone, which was not unusual though the look on her face was. Cat could tell Dylan Lambert was not a happy camper.

Bet she?s talking to Horace. Cat sighed, feeling sorry for her lover and the fact that the woman had to play buffer between the players and the asshole who owned the team.

She did manage to smile to herself, safe and secure in the knowledge that no matter what this game might bring, she and Dylan were all right. They had talked, she had cried, they had made up and Chaney had been right. The make up sex was wonderful.

She glanced down at her shoes, which she still hadn?t bothered to tie. Reaching down she pulled the laces together in tight knots, making sure that they wouldn?t come undone during play. She wiggled her toes in her shoes and took a deep breath to calm her frazzled nerves. No matter what happens, everything will be fine. One way or the other.

The arena was filled to capacity and as the team entered the cheers and screams of the fans was deafening. Cat wondered briefly if she would be able to play with all the noise, then she realized she had been doing it all season. This game shouldn?t be any different.

Quit making excuses for why you might blow this game and get your butt out there and win this thing. Win it for yourself; win it for Dylan and most of all win it for the team and the fans.

The house lights went down and the music started. The game was on.

Cat watched as her teammates moved the ball down the court. Seven minutes into the first half they were down by two. It hadn?t helped that the opposing team had a seven-foot forward that looked like the progeny of an elf and some alien life form. The tip had sent the Badgers scurrying right away and no one on the team liked the unbalanced feeling it gave them. While they were trying to recover, the elf and her teammates took a five-point lead.

Tamara had completely shocked everyone when she broke through and shot a beautiful, nothing but net, three pointer to give the Badgers a much need boost. Cat carried herself down the court, watching or trying to watch every move around her and finding it nearly impossible.

She could feel the sweat starting to drip down her back and the muscles in her legs were already starting to burn and she knew it was going to be a long game.

She wasn?t sure were the next few minutes went, but what she would always be able to clearly recall was the ball in her hands, automatically turning for the net to line up her shot and the roar of every fan in the house as the ball dropped right through the net at the buzzer.

Cat?s world went into complete slow motion as her eyes drifted to the scoreboard and she saw that the Badger?s now had a two-point lead. It was going to be a hard lead to keep and a hard game to win.

She turned to leave the court for halftime her eyes fell on Dylan who was patting each player on the back, but her hers were firmly on Cat and the player knew the smile was for her.

In the locker room, Cat lay down on the floor immediately and used a bench to stretch her leg muscles. The rest of the team took their own places around the room, stretching, taking in fluid to re-hydrate bodies that were tired and worn already.

“That was a beautiful first half ladies. I am very proud of all of you,” Dylan praised as she and the assistant coaches took their places in the center of the room. “The second half is going to be tough, but if you play it the way you played this one, we?ve got nothing to be ashamed of. How are you all doing? Is there anything I should know about?”

Cat managed to hold in the snort that threatened to bubble up. Dylan asked this question at every half time, expecting someone with a potential injury to speak up. To date no one had ever admitted there was anything wrong and Cat wondered how long it would be, if ever, that she would just stop asking.

“Hodges?”

“Yes Coach?”

“I noticed you?re fighting cramps out there. You okay?”

“Right as rain Coach. They?re just running me around like mad.”

“You?re sure?”

Cat opened her eyes to find Dylan bent over at the waist looking down at her. She smiled and nodded. “I promise.”

“Tippens,” Dylan turned to the tall Australian center affectionately known as Roo. “How?s the wrist?”

“No worries, Coach. I?m good.”

“I don?t want to risk it if it?s bothering you.”

Tippens shook her head and sipped from a paper cup holding Gatorade. Dylan nodded and made a couple of notes in the book in her hands.

“The one thing you have to watch out there is Sorenson. She’s been looking for the opportunity to hit all of you at your weakest spots, foul or not. I don?t think she cares and now that they?re down by two I expect her to try something. IF that happens, don?t be baited into a fight with the refs. Let me handle it.”

The entire room answered in the unison that Dylan was looking for. “Yes Coach.”

“Then let?s get back out there and give them a fight. I don?t need to tell you what this game means, but I will tell you, win or lose, I?m proud as hell of you. This team has really come together this season and we?ve come further than a lot of our critics like at the moment. So go give them a good show.”

Catherine took the ball and put it into play, shooting to Mackey who began a hard charge down court. Cat moved up from behind and was getting her bearings when a warning whistle sounded and all movement stopped. She looked for the referee making the call and found that Chaney had been called for a foul against a guard.

“Shit!” Cat groaned as she trotted down the court to find out what was going on and she could see that Chaney was about to go off.

“That b?” Chaney was getting ready to charge when Cat put her hand in her chest.

“Stop!” Cat ducked so she could put her face in Chaney?s. “Just stop. If there?s a problem, Coach will handle it.”

Before Chaney could say anything else the whistle blew and the ball was back in play and the Nitro had control.

“Shit,” Cat mumbled, running into play. “It?s going to be a long 20 minutes.”

Dylan paced as was quite normal for the coach. She always managed to sweat almost as much as the players just from working a rut into the floor. Her attention was fairly evenly divided between the players but most of her attention was on Cat, not because of their relationship but because she could see the player favoring her right leg.

“Fuck,” Dylan breathed as she called for a time out.

As the team made its way to the bench, she gestured for Cat to take a seat and tapped her replacement. After giving them a few words and a new play she sent them back onto the court and resumed pacing. Cat shot daggers at her back from the bench, then she picked up a towel and rubbed down her face, leaving it buried in the soft material so she wouldn?t be tempted to mouth something inappropriate when Dylan turned around.

She was startled when she felt hands on her leg. Peeking out from behind the towel she found the team doctor checking her out. “I?m fine.”

“That?s not how it looked out there.”

“Why won?t anyone listen to me?”

“Cat we?re concerned about you.” The doctor tapped Cat?s leg to get her attention. “Win or lose here tonight Cat, we still need you for the rest of the season. You?ve scored 15 points tonight; you?ve done your share. We can?t risk you injuring this leg. Let us take care of you.”

Cat looked over to Dylan who was yelling to the players from the sideline. She considered the doctor?s words as she thought of the legs under the neatly pressed slacks and the scars on the knee that kept the best player in the league from ever taking the court again. “All right.”

The doctor retrieved a cold pack from her medic bag and wrapped it in a towel, which was wrapped around Cat?s leg. “Just rest and we?ll do some therapy after the game.”

Cat nodded and accepted the cup of water that was offered. Now that she was off the leg it was starting to throb and she knew while she wasn?t seriously hurt, all the quick movements she had been required to make tonight had irritated her calf and knee. They had a three-day break before the next game and if she behaved herself then this strain wouldn?t be an issue.

Dylan took a moment to sit on the bench next to Cat, she figured she would give the player a chance to rant a bit and get it out of her system. She wanted it over and done with so it wouldn?t interfere with their weekend. She hadn?t spent an obscene amount of money for a bungalow with a private beach in the Caribbean for nothing.

“Nice call Coach.” Cat whispered as they watched Chaney assist with a beautiful three pointer.

“Thanks.”

The noise in the locker room was nearly as deafening as the arena. Cat sat with her leg submerged in a whirlpool, while the rest of her sat on the rim drinking a glass of champagne, which had been somehow magically waiting for them when they got back to the locker room.

“Didn?t think we?d win my ass,” Cat mumbled to herself as she sipped from her very own plastic glass. Dylan was moving around the room looking very much like a proud parent. Her team was on its way to the playoffs for a shot at the championship. Regardless of what happened now it had been a very good season for Dylan Lambert and the Badgers.

Cat lay on her back, the sun shining down on her bikini clad body. She hadn’t realized how badly she needed this vacation until she and Dylan had hit the beach this morning. The player hadn’t done a blessed thing other than coat her body in suntan oil and drink juice that Dylan continually kept replenishing.

The only sounds around her were the surf and the wind rustling the trees behind them. She glanced over to find her partner lying on her stomach, eyes closed apparently dozing. Cat decided this was bliss. No games, no practice, no demands on her or Dylan. They were free to do what they wanted, eat, sleep or make love. They had done all those activities since arriving yesterday afternoon and Cat was feeling the need for a bit more of number three.

“Hey?” she said softly, so that if Dylan was really asleep she wasn’t going to disturb her.

One blue eye opened, followed by a smile. “Yeah?”

“Let’s go back to the bungalow.”

“‘Kay’.”

Picking up their beach blanket and the two glasses, holding their drinks they began the short walk up their private beach to the bungalow. Cat was pleased when Dylan reached out and took her hand. It was a rare show of affection in public and for Cat it spoke volumes about how Dylan felt about her.

The bungalow was small, one bedroom and bath, living room and a small kitchen, but for Catherine it felt like a palace. Here, away from the team and the press and the fans, they were free to be themselves. She liked that. She liked being with Dylan when there was nothing to guard against. When they could just relax and be like any other couple.

“Okay,” a sexy grin slid across Dylan’s lips. “You got me here, what did you have in mind?”

Catherine moved to her lover and wrapped her arms around her neck. “This.” The kiss was passionate and left no room in Dylan’s mind for questions. She backed Cat up and they fell to the sofa, a tangle of arms and legs, slick from tanning oil. The skin on skin contact was perfect. It didn’t take either of them long to shed what little clothing they had.

The resort was five star, as Dylan had said when they arrived, `nothing but the best this trip’. Cat had expected to have to drag her one grown up outfit out of the closet for dinner and was

pleasantly surprised when Dylan told her she could certainly go to dinner casual.

While her companion was dressed in a white polo and dark slacks, Cat had opted for a silk sweater and shorts. She decided that unless there was a real good reason to get dressed up she wasn’t going to do it. The restaurant reflected the atmosphere of the Bahamas, right down to the waiters in safari shirts and shorts. In the center of the room was a waterfall decorated with local plant life and lit with red and blue lights. Large ceiling fans cooled the room but certainly didn’t make it cold. Their table was next to a huge plate glass window affording them a beautiful view of the ocean at sunset. For Cat, her time here was just getting better and better.

They ordered their meals and sat making small talk, both of them purposely avoiding any conversation that even bordered on work. Dylan had been serious when she said she needed a vacation and she was bound and determined to relax.

The waiter placed their appetizers before them, before they could sample them and young girl of about eight hesitantly approached the table.

“Excuse me?” Her big brown eyes were settled firmly on Cat.

“Yes?”

“Are you Cat Hodges?”

“I am.”

“Could, um?” The girl glanced at Dylan who sat with an indulgent smile. “Could I get your autograph?”

“Sure,” Cat smiled and took the pen and napkin the girl hesitantly offered. “What’s your name?”

“Amanda, but everyone calls me Mandy.”

Cat smiled and autographed the napkin, folding the pen around it and handing it back. “It’s a pleasure to meet you Mandy. Are you a basketball fan?”

“I love to watch you play. You’re really good. Especially for someone who’s so short.”

Dylan couldn’t hold back the laugh that bubbled up, but she tried to cover it by feigning a cough behind her fist.

Many turned to Dylan and ground her toe into the carpet. “Are you someone?”

Now it was Cat’s turn to laugh, which she did as she sipped from her water.

“No, I’m nobody important.”

“Okay.” Mandy turned back to cat and offered her small hand to the player. “Thank you very much.”

Cat took the young girl’s hand and shook it very seriously. “You’re very welcome.”

Both women watched as the girl all but ran back across the room to where her family sat, proudly showing off her autograph. The girl’s mother looked up and silently thanked Cat. Cat nodded and returned her attention to Dylan.

“What was that all about? What do you mean `you’re no one’?”

“To her,” Dylan gestured across the room, “I’m not. She’s not even a Badger’s fan. She’s a Cat Hodges fan. You’ve begun charming the new generation of basketball fans.”

“But still?”

“Cat, when you were growing up and thinking that you wanted to play, who inspired you?”

“You did, you know that.”

“Right, and someday when little Mandy hopes to make that first draft pick, she’ll think of you and how you inspired her to her dreams. It’s not a bad thing Cat.”

“See I just don’t put myself in the same class as you.”

“Maybe, it’s time you started.” Dylan smiled and sipped her wine as she watched Cat consider her words. “You’re a great player and you have the ability to have your name in the record books. It will take time, but I’m sure in a few years you’ll find that you won’t be able to walk down the street without getting hit up for an autograph.”

“Right.”

“I’m serious, but you know what?”

“What?”

“That’s as much talking about work as I want to do. I want to enjoy dinner, have a couple of drinks then take a moonlight walk on the beach.”

“Oh such a romantic you are.”

“I know.” Dylan skewered a mushroom on her fork and popped it in her mouth.

They walked down the beach, with their arms wrapped around each other’s waist. Cat had to keep changing step to keep up with Dylan’s longer stride. It actually turned into a bit of a game when Dylan intentionally changed her stride.

“Be good,” Cat chastised playfully, giving the tall woman a playful slap to the stomach.

“It’s fun to watch you jump.”

“Heathen.”

Cat tightened her hold on Dylan as they continued down the beach. They reached an outcropping of rocks and Dylan pulled Cat behind them to remove them from view. She titled Cat’s head up so they were looking in each other’s eyes. For Dylan the night was perfect. The air warm, the moon bright and there was something on her mind.

“I want to ask you something?”

“The answer is yes,” Cat answered somewhat breathlessly, it was a common occurrence when she looked into Dylan’s eyes.

“You don’t even know what I was going to ask.”

“I don’t care.”

Dylan chuckled, leaning down to kiss Cat tenderly. “Now be good and listen to my question.”

“Yes ma’am.” Cat nodded soberly, but the smile playing on her lips gave her seriousness away.

“After the season is over, would you like to move in with me?”

“What?”

“After the season is over?”

“I heard you, but?Dylan are you sure?”

“I am very sure. I’ve thought about it a lot. I remember how I felt when we had that problem over the shoot. I hated it. I hated being without you. I love you Catherine, I want to share my life with you.”

“What about Horace?”

“Well, I didn’t think we’d be sending out engraved announcements,” she grinned, running her thumb over Cat’s lips. “But I’ll deal with Horace. Don’t worry. And as long as we’re discreet, everything will be fine. But before you answer I really want you to think it over.

It will mean both of us changing the way we live and I want to make sure you’re ready to do that.”

“It hasn’t been that long since I was living at home.”

“That’s exactly what I mean. You’re just now getting a real taste of freedom and I don’t want to take that away from you. There is a huge difference between seeing someone on a regular basis and living with them.”

“I know that.”

“Then before you answer, think about it.”

“I will. I promise.”

“Good.”

There was no hesitation between them as they made love, they had learned each other’s bodies and took great delight in each other. Dylan had learned quickly that Catherine was responsive to a light and gentle touch most of the time, but Cat knew almost instinctively that Dylan preferred something a little more `aggressive’.

There was never a moment that they didn’t delight in each other’s passions and make the effort to satisfy each other completely.

Cat curled up in front of Dylan, feeling the taller woman spoon tightly against her back. Cat’s pulse was pounding and rushing in her ears and as she caught her breath she felt her body finally

relaxed. She smiled a satisfied little smile as she listened to Dylan’s breathing even out as well.

“We should eat something.” Cat mumbled, feeling sleepy but a bit hungry at the same time.

“Thanks, I’m full.” Dylan teased, earning a chuckle from the body in front of her that caused them both to shake from the laugher. She pulled Cat’s hair back and placed a kiss to a pink ear. “We can order something in.”

“Chinese?”

“I suppose so. What is this thing you have for Chinese food after we make love?”

“I have no idea.”

“Have you always been this way?”

“No, just with you.”

Another kiss and Dylan rolled over, switching on the lamp next to the bed. Opening the draw in the nightstand she removed a blue tri-fold menu, which she handed over to her lover.

“This hotel thinks of everything don’t they?”

“Nothing but the best.” Dylan retrieved a glass of mineral water she had brought into the bedroom several hours ago and took a healthy drink.

“Little dehydrated?” Cat giggled as she perused the menu.

“Just a little. I think juice is in order,” Dylan sat up on the edge of the bed and stretched, causing her spine to pop in several places. “Care for something?”

Cat looked at her lover with a leer and wriggled her brows.

“I mean from the kitchen you little smart ass.”

“Oh well, if you’re going to limit my options, apple juice if you please.”

“When you order could you?”

Cat held up her hand. “Got it, one veggie special with extra tofu.”

Cat rolled for the phone and picked up the receiver but didn’t dial until she had watched Dylan’s nude form disappear from the bedroom.

“I would really enjoy waking up to her every morning.” Cat sighed as she waited for the restaurant to pick up.

Dylan took Cat?s bag out of the trunk, handing it off to the player with a grin. “Thanks for a wonderful weekend.”

Cat smiled, completely charmed by her lover. “Do you want to come in?”

“Nothing I?d like better, but I have to go home to get ready for a meeting.”

“Horace?”

“Horace and a few other of his cronies. They?re going to give me better ideas on how to handle the team.” She smirked, knowing she would hear only half of what they said, remember a quarter of that and care about even less. “No big deal. It?s my bimonthly dog and pony show.”

“They don?t pay you enough for putting up with that bullshit.”

“Tell me. If I didn?t love what I do, I swear I?d go teach high school ball somewhere.”

“Well,” Cat sighed, feeling truly sorry for her partner. “Try not to let him get to you.”

“Oh don?t worry, Sweetheart. The last person in the world that?s going to get to me is Horace. Why don?t we have dinner tonight?”

“Sounds great. Let me cook for you. Come back around seven and we?ll have a quiet night in.”

“Perfect.” Dylan leaned over, giving the blonde a kiss on the cheek. “See you tonight.”

Dylan didn?t even bother to drop her bag at her house before heading over to Horace?s office. She hated these meetings, but they were part of her contract and nothing short of death was acceptable for missing them.

Locking her car and setting the alarm, Dylan noticed that the parking lot was empty of cars belonging to the other Horace idiots who regularly attended these meetings. “Oh this can?t be good,” she mumbled under hear breath, heading into the building.

Exiting the elevator, Dylan took a deep breath before heading into the office. She hated this shit. She hated Horace and she hated the hoops he made her and the team jump through.

She knew in her heart that the only reason she didn?t tell him to take his job and shove it where a basketball won?t bounce is because of Cat and the other players who worked so damn hard to bring the Badgers out of near last place and put them in the playoffs. She knew that without her as a buffer a lot of women on the team would be having huge problems with the owner.

Horace knew that not all women who played professional basketball were lesbians, but that didn?t stop him from assuming that deep down they really wanted to be. The only one he had confirmation on was Cat and he already wanted to make her life miserable. The more she thought about him the madder she got and by the time she actually made it to the reception area it was all she could do to keep from shaking.

She did manage to smirk just a bit about the middle-aged secretary sitting behind the desk. It seemed that Horace?s wife wasn?t the wilting flower she pretended to be. The bimbo from the plane crash was fired about a week after they had returned and she had been replaced by this lovely woman who was married, and well aware of what a prick her new boss was, but she was damn good at her job and Dylan liked her a lot.

“Afternoon, Mrs. Garrison.”

“Good afternoon Ms. Lambert. Mr. Johnson is expecting you.”

“Oh goody for me.” Dylan offered sarcastically. The secretary chuckled and nodded her understanding. “Could you take that pen and jab it in my eye?”

“Sorry,” she apologized with a smile. “You have lovely eyes and it would be a shame to mar them because of him.”

Dylan sighed, nodding as she walked toward the office door. “Things I?d rather do than go into his office. Root canal. Bamboo shoots under my fingernails. Frontal lobotomy.”

With a deep drawn breath she turned the knob and opened the good.

She smiled to herself when a quiet ?Good luck? floated in behind her.

Horace was sitting behind his massive desk flipping through a file folder. There was cigar smoldering in the ashtray and a glass about half full of what Dylan figure was some cheap whiskey.

“Horace?”

He looked up at her, grunted what she assumed was supposed to be acknowledgment of her presence and he gestured to one of the chairs facing his desk.

Taking a seat, she waited until he was ready to talk. This was one of his tactics that he used to control someone he felt was uncontrollable. Finally he looked up and sneered, “I should fire your ass.”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me the first time. So you thought you could fuck the blonde and I wouldn?t find out.”

If Horace?s words in any way shocked Dylan she didn?t let it show. She just continued to watch him, hoping in a perverse sort of way he?d just have a heart attack right there in that chair.

“Not even gonna deny it, huh?”

“Why should I? You obviously seem to think you know what?s going on.”

“Yeah,” he nodded, glaring at her. “I know what?s going on. I know you?re banging the little bitch.”

“Oh really.”

His smirk was truly insufferable. “Oh yeah.” With a flick of his fingers, he sent a sheet of paper sliding across the desk to stop in front of her. As she scanned the page, anger burned in the pit of her belly, causing her jaw to set and her eyes to blaze.

It was a mock-up of the front page of the Weekly World Ledger, a national gossip rag that hung out with the others of its smutty genre in the checkout aisles of most grocery chains, drugstores, and airport lounges. In lurid block letters, its headline screamed out “TEMPTATION IN THE TROPICS! BIKINI-CLAD BASKETBALL BEAUTIES IN LESBIAN LIP LOCK!!!”

Beneath the headline was a grainy, fuzzy picture of two figures?unfortunately all too recognizable despite the poor quality of the photography. The shorter of the two had her hands familiarly on the hips of the taller, and was standing on her toes in the sand, head tilted up for a kiss.

“So,” she remarked as casually as she could manage, “is this what I have to look forward to when I go to pick up my groceries tomorrow?”

Johnson?s smirk broadened. “Well, I?d say that was entirely up to you.”

“Oh?”

Chuckling, Horace clasped his hands behind his head and leaned back in his chair, lifting his legs and placing his feet on his expansive desk. “Either way, the dyke is fired. You, however?.”

“Fire her, and I walk, Horace.”

“Do that, and I can assure you that you and the little skank you?re screwing won?t even be able to get a job coaching preschoolers, much less—.”

The rest of his words were cut off as Dylan came over the desk at him. Pushing his legs off the desk, she grabbed him by the lapels of his jacket and yanked forward so that they were nose to nose. “She?s not ?bitch?, she?s not ?whore?, she?s not ?skank?. Her name is Catherine. Use it!”

“That?s it. I hope you like bulldagger givin? it to you up the ass, Lambert, because that?s all you?re gonna be getting once I have that ass thrown in jail.”

“Go ahead, you bigoted little bastard. Try it. And maybe while the cops are here, we can chat about how you set Cat up to be beaten bloody in the parking lot of your arena, hmm?”

It was only a suspicion, never spoken aloud, but the guess was more than confirmed by the sudden paleness of Johnson?s jowly face. “I don?t know what you?re talking about,” he replied in a voice that suggested exactly the opposite.

The realization caused her hands to tighten on his jacket but she resisted, by the very slimmest of margins, lifting him bodily out of the chair and slamming him through the expensive paneling of his office wall. “I think you know exactly what I?m talking about, you maggot! Exactly!”

“Prove it!”

With great effort, she forced herself to relax her hold on him. Once she was sure her legs would hold her, she moved back across the desk, stood, straightened her clothing, and walked to the door. “I don?t have to,” she replied, pinning him with a gaze that made him swallow hard. “You just proved it for me.”

She had gotten the door open and was just starting to step through it when his voice floated over her shoulder. “You will pay for this. You realize that, don?t you?”

“You do what you have to do, Horace,” she replied, not bothering to look at him. “You just do what you have to.”

And then she left.

The shakes hit her when she was halfway home, and she had to pull off to the side of the busy road before her jumped-up reflexes got her into an accident. The little voice that had taken up residence inside her head was screaming for her to turn the car around, go back to Johnson?s office, rip his spine out through his throat, and beat him to death with it. The more sensible, more rational part of her mind diffidently reminded her that she wouldn?t be much good to either herself or Cat from Death Row. The team?s need for her wasn?t even mentioned.

That part was hard to hear for the blood of anger driving through her veins and pounding at her eardrums, giving her a headache that would drop Shaquille O?Neal at a hundred paces. Clenching her fists and jaw only increased the adrenaline-fueled tremors, so, with great strength of will, she forced herself to completely relax, allowing her head to drop back against the padded headrest and closing her eyes.

Digging into her pocket, she brought out her small cellphone. One button pressed, and she held it up to her ear, waiting for the annoying ringing to be replaced by a human voice. “Mac, it?s Dylan.”

“Yo, D! Long time, no talk!” His voice was staticy and crackly on the line. “Where are?wait, aren?t you supposed to be at the big bull meeting?”

“Yeah.”

“What, did it end early or something?”

“In a manner of speaking.” She drew the pads of her thumb and index finger over the tight band of muscle between and above her eyes, seeking to work out the headache before it consumed her.

“Define that, please.” Mac?s voice went deep and somber. “Did something happen?”

“I need you to do me a favor, Mac.”

“Wait. Hold up, here, big D. What the hell happened?”

“I suspect you?ll be hearing all about it soon enough, Mac. Let?s just say I almost popped the little prick?s head off and leave it at that, hmm?”

Absolute silence at the other end. Not even the static pulses dared to intrude.

Then, “Jesus Christ,” blown out on a breath of air. “Please tell me you?re speaking metaphorically, Dylan.”

“Look, I really don?t have time for this, Mac.”

“Make time, Dylan. Tell me what?s going on! Please!”

“Not now, Mac. I can?t. Like I said, you?ll probably hear about it soon anyway.”

“But?.”

“I need your help. Please.”

Another silence on the line, this one so long that Dylan came within a hairsbreadth of simply hanging up and dealing with things on her own.

“What do you need.” Mac?s voice was resigned, but steady.

Taking in a deep breath, she began to tell him.

The scent of home struck her as she walked through the door that Cat held open for her. Stopping in the entryway, she closed her eyes and breathed deep, letting the cherished smells calm her from the inside where she needed it most.

A hand on her arm caused her to open her eyes, and, reaching out, she gathered Cat in and held her closely, tightly, against her, resting her cheek atop the fair hair. “I love you,” she whispered.

“I love you too, sweetheart,” Cat murmured, listening to her lover?s racing heart beneath the thin cotton shirt she wore. She slowly pulled back enough to stare into the pale face and haunted eyes of her lover. “What?s wrong, Dylan?”

“It?s?alright.”

“Hon, you?re as pale as a ghost and your heart is racing a mile a minute.” Her expression sobered as a scowl drew down her brows. “It?s Johnson, isn?t it.”

With a sigh, Dylan released Cat and nodded. “Yeah.”

“That bastard. What the hell is it this time?! Is he blackmailing you again??”

“He tried to,” Dylan admitted, walked over to the couch and slumped gracelessly down into it, hands splayed out limply between her thighs. “I refused.” I almost tore his fucking head off too, she thought wryly, deciding not to mention that little tidbit to her bristling partner. That, and a few other things, I think. For now, at least. Until I?m sure, one way or the other.

Cat stared at her, hands on hips, green eyes angry and blazing, and one eyebrow cocked in silent query.

Dylan sighed again. “Some jackass photographer from one of those weekly gossip rags caught us on the beach sometime last week. They sent him a mock-up of the front page. He showed it to me.”

“Jesus Christ!” Cat exploded, dropping her arms and beginning to pace. “Why can?t that fucking asshole just leave us alone?? Are we bothering anyone? No! Are we bothering him?! No!! What the?.”

“Cat, calm down.”

“I won?t calm down, Dylan! This shit has got to stop!! How in the hell are we supposed to live our lives with that bastard sticking his nose into every nook and cranny? He?s a fucking voyeur!”

“I know. I know. He pissed me off too, believe me. But?I think I called his bluff.”

“How?”

“I threatened to walk.”

The shock on Cat?s face was almost comical. “You?what?”

“Just what I said,” Dylan replied, rising from the couch and slipping her hands into her pockets. “Cat, he threatened to fire you for breaking the morals clause in your contract. I told him that if he fired you, I?d walk.”

“Dylan, you can?t?.”

“I can, and I will, Cat. I?m tired of Johnson trying to run my life. I?m more tired of him trying to ruin yours. I?m not playing his whore anymore. If he wants to publish that photo of us, and the piece of crap article that goes with it, he can go right ahead. I don?t care anymore.”

“But?.”

Walking over to Cat, she reached out and took her lover?s hands. “What I do care about, Cat, is you. Us. It?s more important than whatever image he wants the public to buy. It?s more important than my sponsors, my contract, and my damn career. So let him do what he wants to. He can?t hurt me anymore.”

Cat looked up at her in wonder, her eyes shining. “You?.” She swallowed. “You really mean that, don?t you.”

“Yes. I do.” Leaning slowly down, she brushed her lips against Cat?s, then returned, deepening the kiss until Johnson, careers, and even dinner, was forgotten.

Cat watched Dylan in her office as the team prepared for the game. Only Cat knew about the turmoil going on in her lover?s mind over the newest developments with Horace, the rest of the team was blissfully ignorant of the problems brewing not only for their coach and Catherine, but for the team as a whole. Cat smiled to herself as she straightened her new brace, knowing that Dylan wouldn?t have it any other way. Dylan was first and foremost a professional and a damn good coach. She would find a way to deal with Horace and put an end to his manipulations and she would do her best to keep the rest of the team sheltered from it.

As far as Dylan Lambert was concerned, it was bad enough that Cat was being threatened; there was no need for the entire team to feel the stress caused by the bastard that signed the checks. Sitting at her desk, Dylan flipped through the playbook, pretending to be concentrating on the game they were about to play, but fighting her desire to march up to Horace?s skybox and toss him out the window onto the court below.

She knew that all the team needed to do was take the championship and they would have some ammunition to use against the owner should he decide to go public with his threats. People might have problems with gays and lesbians in general, but they loved a winner and they especially loved sports heroes. A win would mean that both she and Catherine would have options past the Badgers.

As Dylan stated down at the playbook, she hoped that she was right. Her career had actually been over since the injury. She tried to tell herself that coaching was the next best thing, but the truth was, in her heart it wasn?t. She loved the game and loved coaching these women, but for a player of Dylan?s caliber, anything other than playing was settling. And she hated to settle. It grated on her nerves, made her antsy and out of sorts, and no one, especially Cat, deserved to see that side of her.

With a determined breath she gathered up the playbook, and her clipboard and went into the locker room where everyone was waiting for the pre-game pep talk. Dylan couldn?t help but smile as she looked at the expectant faces staring at her and waiting for her traditional words of wisdom.

She could only think of three. “Give ?em hell.”

The tip off sent the ball to their opponent and Cat knew that a win was going to be tough to come by. Teams didn?t get this far without being fierce competitors. Cat watched as Angela managed to take the ball and head it back down the court. Even as Cat charged to her own position she could tell by the way Tippens moved that the center was going for the three point shot, and the roar of the crowd drowned out everything else as Cat guarded against someone from the Spartan team trying something silly like taking that ball from Angela. Even as she turned to move back into offensive mode, she took the time to wiggle her eyebrows at the Spartan guard who cursed when the scoreboard registered the Badgers three.

Dylan?s eyes tracked up to the skybox where Horace sat, drinking and watching the game with far too much interest in her opinion. He had never before kept his eyes locked firmly on the court like he was today and the hair raised on Dylan?s neck when she realized her was watching every move Cat made.

“Bastard,” she mumbled as she turned to watch Cat with an assist to Chaney that brought the Badgers another two points.

Somewhere, from deep inside, the Spartans decided that this was not the game they came to play and even though every member of the Badgers played the best game they ever had, when the half time buzzer sounded they were down 33 to 22.

Even as the medical staff checked over strains and minor sprains, Dylan took the floor in the center of the locker room.

“It?s okay, they just changed their strategy midway through. So we?re going to change ours and go back out there and kick their butts.”

Everyone one agreed and paid close attention as Dylan took her place by the dry board. “They?ve got weaknesses in their defense. All we have to do is exploit those weaknesses and turn them into holes. The first thing we need to do is concentrate our efforts on making that Amazon forward of theirs work harder. She has a tendency to lose her concentration if we force her to do two or three things at once, so I want you to be giving her five or six things to do.”

Her hands flew across the board, diagramming plays and defenses that would play on the big forward?s weakness while shoring up their own weaknesses and, hopefully, turning them into points. Her manner was quick, concise and crisp, and her hair, worn down and free for the occasion, fluttered over her shoulders like a pennant banner. Cat decided she liked the look, and paid more attention to the coach than to what she was saying. That was alright, though. She had the words memorized anyway.

When the second half began, Dylan had all the players so charged up, their energy could have lit up Manhattan.

Their coach watched with a great deal of pride as they broke the Spartan defense and ripped their offense into tiny little pieces. Coming back from an eleven-point deficit was going to be a trick but the coach had faith and as she stood there shouting orders and words of encouragement, not once did she bother to look up to the skybox. Right now Horace Johnson wasn?t even a blip on her radar.

The Spartans were becoming increasingly aggressive as the second half ticked away, earning shouts of protest not only from Dylan and the other members of the coaching staff, but from the fans as well. Caulley, in particular, was coming dangerously close to earning the Badgers a technical with her catcalls and her striding right up to the sidelines, almost daring the ref to throw a T at her. Dylan managed to pull the red-faced coach back by one arm, and the look she delivered her assistant had Caulley briefly considering another line of work. Stoking the fires of Hell while Satan?s minions whipped her bloody, perhaps.

When one of the Spartan forwards shoved Cat, Dylan?s hands went up for a time out and she called everyone to the bench before a fight could get started. While the tired players sipped water, and toweled sweaty heads and shoulders, Dylan knelt down and got all their attentions focused on her. “Don?t let them bait you. Let them play rough if they want, but don?t fall for it. We?ve dealt with this before and we?ll deal with it again. You?re all making them nervous and they have to work for this now. Let them work.”

“We?re working pretty hard out there too Coach.” Chaney offered before slugging down more water.

“Yeah I know, and you?re doing a hell of a job. When we win this one it?s going to be by the skins of our teeth, but you?re going to feel great when you take them down. Just don?t let them take you down with them.”

The whistle blew sending them back to the court. The Spartans continued to vary and change their methods of play, causing the Badgers to struggle to keep up even after their tough comeback in the beginning of the half.

With the score tied 40/40 Cat could feel the strain of trying to keep up the blistering pace that was set, but she better than anyone knew exactly what was on the line and she decided that she was going to help her team win this game, or die trying.

Stealing the ball, she sent it down court to Angela who passed it off to Mackey who in a pinch sent it back to Cat. Cat looked for someone, anyone who could take the ball; instead she found an opening and charged through it making a mad dash for a lay-up of any kind and hoping like hell to hit the net.

Even as she let go of the ball she lost her balance and sight of the ball, coming down hard to the floor, she listened to her teammates and the crowd to see if she had made the basket. When she saw Tippens smiling face leaning over her, she had the answer.

“You okay short stuff?”

“I think so,” Cat groaned, taking Angela?s extended hand. Once she was on her feet she walked off the pain in her back, and, glancing up at Dylan?s concerned face, she shook her head to indicate that she wasn?t injured and just had the wind knocked out of her.

She coughed and blew out a cleansing breath before she took a moment to determine what play was being run and finding her position. Over the course of the season the team had become adept at giving a member time to catch up, even when the ball was in play. It was just understood that even in the heat of the moment there were moments when you needed to take an extra breath.

The 40/42 score didn?t last long and suddenly Cat found herself looking at a 43/42 score and cursing a blue streak, even if it was in her head. Looking at the game clock she knew that the next eight minutes would make or break the Badgers, Dylan and even her own career. They needed this win to get to the championships and they all wanted it.

It had to happen.

She called a second time out and led the team back to the bench, where Dylan looked at her with some concern.

“You hurt?”

“No, I?m mad.”

When the rest of the team gathered round, Cat took the playbook and dropped it to the floor. “Forget the book. Sometimes you just can?t play by the book. So here?s what we?re going to do?”

Dylan stepped back and just watched Cat work.

Cat looked at the clock.

Ten seconds to go.

Badgers in control of the ball with Angela leading the charge to the net.

Cat knew the most important thing right now was protecting Angela, making sure she got to make that three point shot. Every member of the team seemed to be working on telepathy as they formed a protective circle around their forward. Even as the Spartans tried to find a hole to get through the Badgers managed to close them up before anyone could even get close to Tippens.

At the three point line, with three seconds left on the clock, Cat turned to find a forearm coming directly at her throat, which she couldn?t get away from. Seeing stars as she fell back, she could barely make out the form of a Spartan player knocking Angela off her feet.

There seemed to be only a slight buzzing in Cat?s ears and she wondered briefly if she hit her head when she hit the floor, then she realized the buzzing was the roar of the crowd and through the tears in her eyes she can make out 63/65 score.

We did it. Cat smiled as she closed her eyes.

She knew she hadn?t been there long when she opened her eyes and found Dylan leaning over her.

“How bad are you?”

“Hey,” Cat smiled, “We won didn?t we.”

“I mean hurt.”

“I don?t think I am. Help me up.”

Dylan pulled Cat to her feet, sheltering her, since was a bit unsteady on her feet. “Are you sure you?re not hurt?”

“No, I?m okay, just banged up.” Cat smiled at the coach, but then noticed the medical staff hovering over Angela. “Shit. What did they do?”

“We?re not sure yet.” Dylan released Cat, who went to her teammate and knelt down by her head.

“Hey Tipper,” Cat used Angela?s rarely used nickname. “How ya doing?”

“I?m good, but my leg seems to have opinions of its own.”

“Well, no matter what happens, you won the game, hero.” Nudging her friend with an elbow earned the grin she?d been hoping for, and she tousled Angela?s hair as the med techs rushed in and deposited the downed woman on a stretcher.

Dylan sat in the hospital waiting room watching as every member of the Badgers paced back and forth waiting for the final word on their injured player.

“Well hell,” Chaney sat down in a chair across from Dylan. “If her ACL is torn, we may as well kiss the championship good bye.”

“No way,” Cat straightened up from her spot against a wall. “If her ACL is torn that bites and it sucks for Angela and we?ll have to go after the championship. It won?t be easy and it won?t be fun but we can win it. We have to, for her. For us.”

Dylan stood and stretched, it had been a long night and her plans of buying her team dinner and then a quiet night with Cat had gone down the tubes the second the team doctor had made a preliminary diagnosis of a torn ACL. After that the entire team demanded to go to the hospital and wait. “Cat?s right. We have to win it and we will. For us.”

Stripping off her scrub gown and gloves, Kelly Norton opened the door to the treatment room and beckoned Dylan inside. Once the coach?s broad shoulders had cleared the swinging doors, Norton grabbed hold of her elbow and led her to a quieter corner of the room, away from the exam table and the techs who were fitting Tippens with a heavy brace.

“Good news or bad news?” Norton asked, keeping an eye on the action in the center of the room.

“C?mon, Kelly, I don?t have time to play word games. Just tell me how she is.”

“Alright. It?s her ACL, but it?s not torn, just badly sprained. She?ll need a brace and crutches, and a shitload of physical therapy, but I don?t have to cut on her, and if she follows my orders, she?ll play again.”

“Thank God,” Dylan breathed, genuinely relieved.

“But not this season.”

“That?s fine. I don?t care about this season, Kelly. I care about her career.”

Norton met the intense blue eyes and nodded, her own gaze softening perceptibly. “I know, D. I know. She?s gonna be plenty sore for awhile, but she?ll be okay.”

“Good. Can I see her?”

“She?s kinda doped up and probably won?t make any sense, but sure.”

“Thanks.”

The techs backed away as Dylan moved forward to the table and looked down at her fallen player. Angela was a little pale, and her leg looked as if it had been through the meat grinder, but otherwise, she looked better than Dylan could have hoped.

When she saw her coach peering down at her, a big, morphine-enhanced grin curled her lips. “Heya, Coach!” she sang, trying to lift an arm, then giving up when it didn?t want to work, and letting it flop down to the bed. “Howzzz thangs?”

“Things are pretty good,” Dylan replied, trying to keep her expression serious.

“Thass good.” Her eyes widened. “Gosh, you sure are pretty, Coach! Did anyone ever tell you that? That you?re reallll pretty?? Did they?”

Dylan could feel the heat of the blush crawling up from her neck, and glared at the others in the room who were snickering at her. They quickly found other things to do. When she looked back down at her player, Angela looked as if she was getting ready to cry. “Hey. What?s wrong?”

“I ain?t gonna be able to play no more,” she mumbled, sounding very much like a three-year old.

“Sure you will,” Dylan countered, taking the young woman?s hand. “You?ve only got a sprain, not a tear. Didn?t the Doc tell you that?”

“Don?t remember.”

Dylan looked over at Norton, who nodded.

“You?re gonna be fine, Angela,” the coach said. “A brace, crutches, some PT, and before you know it, you?ll be sinking threes again just like you did tonight.”

Big, round, innocent eyes met hers, hope shining in them. “You really think so?”

“I know so.”

“Gosh, Coach Goddess, you?re real swell. And pretty too.” Tippens giggled and tried to lift her arms again. It was a lost cause, and after a final squeeze of her hand, Dylan backed away, gesturing for Norton to follow her back to the corner.

“What?s up?” the doc asked.

“Dobbins. She?s the only one we have who can play her position, and she?s been suffering back spasms since the Pistol?s game. Do whatever you need to do for her, but make sure she can play tomorrow night.”

“I don?t know, D. She?s been in a lot of pain?.”

“Just do it.”

Norton blinked, then nodded. “I?ll see what I can do,” she said tightly.

“Good.”

“You can let the others in to see her for a couple minutes if you want,” Norton called out to Dylan?s retreating back. She received a brisk nod in response as the coach hit the door and disappeared back into the waiting room.

A minute later, a flood of players entered the room, talking excitedly.

Back in the now empty waiting room, Dylan dug her cellphone from her pocket, flipped it open, and punched a button with her thumb. She held the phone to her ear until the line was answered by a sleepy, annoying voice. “Manny? We need to talk. Now.”

“And that was the buzzer, Lori, bringing to close a, well, I guess you would have to call it ?inspiring? half of basketball.”

“Inspiring indeed, Ted. With the Badgers? great defensive shot blocker and outside threat Angela Tippens out with an injured knee, Lola Dobbins has been doing her best to fit in, but you could tell several times out there that her back was giving her a lot of trouble. Frankly, I?m surprised Coach Lambert kept her in the entire half.”

“Well, Lori, it?s not that surprising when you look at their roster and see that there really isn?t anybody to replace her with. Thorne?s been having trouble with bursitis in her shooting arm, and I don?t think Dylan is comfortable going up against a team as all-around tall as the Lightning with three women in there under 5?6”. Especially with Cat Hodges, their outstanding point guard and court general, hobbled with that sore knee.”

“Very true. What is surprising, I think, is that the Badgers, the little team that could, has actually managed to make somewhat of a game of it out there today. Yes, they?re losing by fifteen at the half, but they?ve overcome worse deficits, and in the last game, managed to win despite behind eleven at the half.”

“I guess we?ll just have to wait and see what tricks Coach Lambert can pull out of her sleeve this week, Ted, because things the way they are, I don?t think we?re in for a repeat of that last game.”

“Understood, Lori. Well, folks, stay tuned for the second half of what promises to be a gutsy performance by the Birmingham Badgers against the perennial favorites, the Louisiana Lightning. And we?ll be back after this commercial from Maxi-Fresh.”

“I?ll be fine, Coach!” Lola Dobbins yelled from the depths of the whirlpool into which she?d been ensconced the very second the buzzer rang ending the half. “Just a little more of this hot water and a good massage, and maybe a shot, and I?ll be good to go. I can feel the muscles relaxing already!”

“Just relax in there, Dobbins,” a harried Norton said, buzzing past Dylan with a soft brace and liniment in her hand for Cat?s swollen knee. “I?ll be back in a minute.”

“I swear, Coach, I?m feeling better. Honest.” Dobbins turned pleading eyes to Dylan. “Please. Let me play. I can do it.”

Giving her player the best smile she could offer, Dylan rapped her knuckles on the whirlpool rail and said, “We?ll see.”

Leaving the relative quiet of the whirlpool/treatment room, Dylan made her way back into the organized chaos of the locker-room, making a beeline directly for the bench where Cat was being tended to. Coming down to one knee, she put a hand on her lover?s thigh, not caring what anyone saw, or thought, and met Cat?s eyes directly. “The truth.”

“It hurts like hell. But?I can play on it. I?ve had worse knee strains before, and the Doc has already taken my picture and pronounced me fit, right?”

Norton grimaced even as she nodded. “It goes against my utopian world recommendations, but?right.”

Dylan sighed, worrying at her lower lip, comforted slightly when Cat reached down and covered her hand with her own. “How?s Dobbins?” she asked softly.

“Not good,” Dylan replied, not needing Kelly?s assessment of the situation. “She?s hurting bad, and I don?t think all the backrubs and whirlpool baths in the world are going to stop that.”

“I?m sorry, D,” Norton said, finishing up with Cat?s knee and giving it a light pat. “I did the best I could.”

“I know, Kelly, and I thank you for it. It just wasn?t in the cards, I guess.”

“You could always put Thorne in and shift Chane to small forward,” Cat hazarded, hating the bleak look in her lover?s striking eyes. “She?s played that position before, you know.” Cat frowned when the look didn?t disappear. A cold feeling of dread spread its way through her belly and limbs, making her shiver. “Dylan? You?re?you?re not thinking of forfeiting, are you?” The slight shift of color in Dylan?s eyes told Cat all she needed do know. Lifting her hand, she clamped it on her lover?s shoulder. “Dylan, no. Please. Don?t give up, not when we?ve gotten this far. Even if we wind up losing by thirty points, it won?t be because we didn?t try our damndest out there. Please, let us have that chance. Don?t quit. Don?t make us quit. Please?”

Still worrying her lower lip, Dylan dropped her eyes, gently released Cat?s grip on her shoulder, and stood. Her gaze scanned the rest of the players, who had all overheard the conversation, soft-voiced as it was, and looked back at her with desperate, pleading eyes. She allowed those looks, those emotions, to penetrate for one intense moment, then hardened her heart, and let her face show that. “Caulley,” she called to the assistant coach who was leaning against a locker, arms folded, “come with me.”

As soon as the door closed behind them, the sense of deflation and disappointment filled the air like a pall. The players slumped in their seats; several had tears in their eyes.

“MotherFUCK!!” Chane shouted, pounding the locker with her fist. “I can?t believe she up and fucking quit on us. What the fuck?!?”

The locker room door opened again, this time admitting an official. “Five minutes, guys. Time to get out there and warm up.”

“Why should we bother?” Chane asked after he left. “It?s not like we?re gonna be warming up for anything. Looking like goddamned fools standin? around there till they tell us to go home. Screw that. I?m gettin? a shower and gettin? the fuck outta here.”

“Chane, wait.” Taking in a deep breath, Cat stood, wincing only slightly as she put weight back on her knee. “If nothing else, we are professionals. Face it. No one expected us to make it even half this far, right? But we did it. We showed them all what we could do.” She shrugged. “We can?t help it that Angela?s knee got busted, or that Dobbsie?s got a bum back. Those things happened because we played harder, smarter, and better than anyone ever thought we could. Even if we forfeit, we have a right to be out there, in front of that crowd, not slinking off like thieves.” She met each player?s eyes, letting them see the strength of her convictions, the passion in her heart for the game she so loved. “We always won with dignity and grace. Let?s show this crowd that we can lose the same way, ok?”

One by one, the players rose to their feet, inspired by the words of this rookie, their Captain, who had led them this far, and was willing to lead them to the end, however ignoble that end might be. Even Chane managed to muster a smile and, walking over, clapped Cat on the back. “If ya ever decide to run for President,” she said, “call me. I?ll vote for ya.”

Chuckling, Cat turned to her teammates. “C?mon, guys. Let?s get out there and, well, just?get out there.”

It was a group of subdued, but proud Badgers who left the locker room for the court, chins held high, even if their hearts weren?t.

“It?s a pretty quiet crowd here in Bayou Arena, Ted, since the players have come back on the court. Especially since the Badgers seem short a player and two coaches.”

“You?re right, Lori. Dobbins was really hurting during the first half, and from what I?m hearing, the team physician has nixed her reentry into the game tonight.”

“Bad news indeed, Ted. And since the Lightning coach, Merla Gibson, just crossed the court to the official?s table a few minutes ago, I?m guessing that a forfeit is in the cards for tonight.”

“And that?s just too bad, Lori. The Badgers really were showing some spunk out there tonight, despite all their injuries, and it would have been good to see them play it through to the end.”

“Sometimes, these things just can?t be helped, Ted.”

“Unfortunately, you?re right about that, Lori. The officials are gathering around the mic now. Let?s listen in to their announcement.”

“I?m telling you, I?m launching a formal protest!” shouted Merla Gibson, the first-year coach of the Lightning. “This is completely unprecedented! Completely!!”

“I?m not trying to stop you, Ma?am. You can file a protest any time you want,” the head official replied, “but she?s on the roster. Has been since the beginning of the season. I checked it out myself. Everything?s in order.”

“I will not stand for this!!” Gibson screamed, getting in the official?s face in the best baseball manager tradition. If there had been any dirt on the waxed floorboards, she would have kicked it over his shoes. “It?s a travesty!! This cannot be allowed!”

“Ms. Gibson,” the referee said, easing his way into the about-to-be fracas, “I don?t want to have to give you a technical here. Please just go back to the bench.”

“Technical!?!” the coach all but screeched, turning to the ref with her hands raised, “you want to give me a technical?!? I?ll show you—.”

“That?s enough, Merla,” said Josh Sellers, the assistant coach, grabbing his boss by one upraised arm and tugging. “Let?s just go back to the bench, alright?”

“Get. Your. Hands. Off. Of. Me!!”

“What the hell is going on over there?” Chaney asked, watching as the red-faced coach in front of the official?s table almost knocked her assistant?s block off.

“Beats me,” Cat replied, eyes skipping from the officials to the coaches and back like an avid spectator at a particularly exciting tennis match. “I?d think us forfeiting would be a good thing for her.”

“Ya think?” Chaney asked, voice oozing sarcasm.

“Maybe she didn?t wanna win this way,” Anya observed from her spot next to Cat. “Maybe she wanted to show her fans how bad she was by stomping the crap outta us.”

“Pretty damn childish if that?s what her beef is,” Cat replied, flicking her gaze to Anya, and freezing. “Oh my God,” she breathed.

“What?” Anya asked, looking down at herself. “I got a bug on me or something?”

“Holy fucking shit!!” Chaney whooped, pumping both fists in the air. “Yes!!!”

“What?! C?mon you guys! What?s going on??”

Cat was grinning so widely, the lanky forward thought her face was going to split clear in half, and she thought she caught the shine of tears in the brilliant green eyes of her team captain. Following the direction of those eyes, she half turned, and found herself frozen to the court as if she?d suddenly sprouted roots. “Holy cow,” she whispered, blinking, then rubbing her eyes to make sure that what she thought she was seeing was really what she was, in fact, seeing.

Briskly walking through the tunnel that separated the court from the locker rooms was Diana Caulley, and behind her, striding loose-limbed and easy, was Dylan, in uniform down to her trademark black high-tops.

Badger fans, of which there were more than a few, after a moment of stone silence, began to cheer wildly, rising to their feet, pointing, and then clapping for all they were worth. Fans of the home team, confused, followed the direction of the pointing fingers, then looked at one another in stunned disbelief. Several, who would always see Dylan as “their” Goddess, began to cheer, not caring what the sudden presence of the game?s greatest player said for the chances of their own team. Like a wildfire, the cheers began to spread until, with the exception of a few scattered ?boos? and one red-faced and raving coach, the entire arena was filled to the rafters with chants of “God-dess! God-dess! God-dess! God-dess!”

Dylan, her game face set firmly in place, ignored the cheers from fans and players alike and came to join the rest of her team, staring straight ahead at Caulley, who had assumed head coaching duties. The other players took Dylan?s lead and faced their coach, though they weren?t quite able to suppress the wild excitement that lit their eyes as if from within.

“Ok, you guys, listen up,” Caulley began, rubbing her hands on her once-pressed and now drenched shirt. “This isn?t the way we planned this game to go, and I think you know that. At least, I hope you do.”

The players nodded.

“From the beginning of the season, we?ve, I hope, tried to prove that the Badgers are a team. We stand, or fall, as a team. Now you guys, as a team, have taken us all the way to the semi-finals, somewhere no one ever thought we could be. There?s a lot to be proud of in that. There?s no shame in losing, not like this, not when you?ve done your best.” She takes in a deep breath. “So, as a team, we need to make a decision. Dylan is a legal player. She?s been on our roster since she was hired, as a player-coach.” She held up a hand to still the cheering players. “But what I need to know from you guys, honestly and without fear of anything hard feelings, is?do you want her to play in this game.”

“You crazy, right?” Chane asked. “Why the fuck would we turn something like this down! It?s a fucking gift, man!”

“Everyone might not think so, Shaniqua. What you?ve done this entire year has been done without a superstar, and that?s a damn good message to send to the fans out there, especially the younger ones who think that unless they?ve got a Dylan Lambert or a Michael Jordon, they might not even bother playing. You showed them what you could do without that kind of help. By god, ladies, you did it! And if we didn?t get hit with these damn injuries, I?m sure you?d be doing it still!” She shrugged. “But?people talk. You know they do. And if we put Dylan in the game, they?re going to be claiming all sorts of things that will effect you as a team.” She tossed a look to Chaney. “Sometimes, gifts come at a price higher than we might be willing to play, and you have to think about that.”

“Fuck the fans. Fuck the newspapers. Fuck ESPN. Fuck the league. I came here to win, Coach, and that?s what I wanna do. Cap?n D here is our coach. Without her we wouldn?t have gotten near as far as we?ve gotten, and everybody knows that. We need her help, like we always have, and I?m not gonna let some stupid fear or pride stand in the way of that. No way, man. No fucking way.”

“Your opinion has been noted, Shaniqua. Anyone else have anything to add? Remember, nothing bad?s going to happen against you if you feel better just going this alone. I swear it.”

The rest of the teammates looked at one another for a long moment of silence. Then Cat stepped forward, took Dylan?s hand, and placed her own atop it. With giddy grins, one by one, the rest of the team put their hands in. “Badgers?.Badgers?.Badgers?BADGERS?.BADGERS!!!!”

“Any last words of wisdom, Coach?” Chaney asked Dylan as they broke their mini huddle.

The game face was still on. “Let?s get it done.”

“Yeah!!!”

“Well, it seems like I?m at a rare loss for words, here, Lori.”

“You said it, or rather didn?t say it, Ted. As you can hear all around us, the arena is still buzzing over the unexpected addition of Dylan Lambert to the Badgers? playing ranks. To say I, myself, am surprised at this turn of events would be putting it mildly, Ted. It really doesn?t seem like Lambert?s style.”

“Well, the Badgers? owner, Horace Johnson has, shall we say, been known to push his product memorably. Perhaps this is one of those times.”

On cue, one of the main TV cameras panned to the sky-box where Johnson was sitting. The owner rivaled the coach of the Lightning in facial redness and looked very much like another ?coronary event? was very near in his future.

“Well, I suppose we can cross that theory off the list, Lori. Johnson doesn?t seem any happier over this particular turn of events than his counterpart on the Lightning.”

“Be that as it may, Ted, the players from both teams have taken the court, so I suppose the reaction to this controversial move will have to wait until after the game.”

“Sounds good to me, Lori. The head referee has just handed the ball to Lambert as the possession arrows were pointing the Badgers? way when the half ended. On the court with her for the Badgers are Hodges, Chaney, Anya, and Cooper. The Lightning are countering with Race and Blevins at guard, Toomey at center, and Holloway and Gathers at forward.

“Toomey steps up to guard Lambert and the whistle blows, starting the second half of this semi-final game.

“Lambert waits as her team sets up, then dishes off to Chaney, who is immediately trapped by Holloway and Gathers. She sees an opening and bounce passes to Hodges, who dribbles past half court and sets up the play. The Lightning look to be starting off in a man on man despite the backcourt trap. Blevins steps up to guard Hodges, who does a nice crossover dribble around the pick set for her by Anya, then passes off to Chaney. Chaney dribbles once, looking for an open shot, but she?s well guarded by Gathers in a real height mismatch.

“Lambert streaks into the paint and receives the pass from Chaney, then turns and puts up an eight footer that?oooh, Toomey got a piece of that one. There?s a story the rookie will be able to tell her grandkids, Lori!”

“True, Ted. Gathers got the rebound and passed it off to Race who?s dribbling past half court. Quick pass to Toomey who?yipes! Lambert got all of that one! Toomey?s gonna have to check her face for lines, I think. That ball came back at her at the speed of light!”

“Chaney grabs the ball and starts off downcourt, then passes off to Hodges on a three on two fast break with Lambert streaking down the center of the court. Her knee doesn?t look to be bothering her in the least right now.

“Hodges dishes to Chaney, who tips it back to Hodges who rifles a no-look bounce pass to her left, directly to Lambert who goes up for the layup, and scores! Very nicely executed fast break.”

“Blevins takes the ball behind the endline and waits for her players. She?s guarded by Lambert, which looks like something out of David and Goliath. The rest of the Lightning players are being well guarded as the ref counts off the seconds. Blevins thows up a desperation pass, oh?Lambert tips it right into the hands of Hodges, who turns and rifles a pass to Chaney just outside the three point line. Chaney looks, shoots, and scores!! Beautiful shot.”

“Great display of teamwork too, Ted. And in just?one minute and ten seconds, the Badgers have managed to take a fifteen point deficit down to ten.”

“With Dylan Lambert a part of all five of the Badgers? points, Lori. If she?s rusty, she?s surely not showing it to this crowd here tonight.”

“I?ll have to agree there, Ted. The Badgers look really pumped, but then again, who wouldn?t, with the Goddess on their side?”

“Not me, that?s for sure.”

The censor shot a glare at the announcer, who returned him a lewd grin and a waggle of his eyebrows.

“The Lightning are past mid-court. Toomey sets up a screen on Lambert, and Blevins passes a quick one to Holloway who fakes a shot and passes back to Blevins. The Badgers are set up in a two-three trap zone, now they switch to a box and one, with Hodges out guarding Blevins, who is a distinct three point threat, with four threes already this game. Blevins passes the ball to Gathers, who dishes it to Race, who tries a shot from behind three point range and misses completely.

“The rebound is gathered in by Anya, who passes to Hodges who calls out a play as she dribbles quickly down the court. The Lightning are back quickly this time and set up in a one-three-one. Hodges passes to Lambert, who avoids the trap and drives in toward post, then steps back and fires over the Lightning?s heads to Chaney who?s as open as an all night tavern. One look and she shoots, and another three is up on the board for the Badgers! Shaniqua Chaney is on fire tonight! Two threes in the space of less than a minute! The Lightning are starting to look a little frazzled as their lead has been cut in half, now in the single digits.

“Race gets the ball to Gathers, who passes it back to her, and?oh no! Hodges came outta nowhere to steal that one, ladies and gentlemen! She drives into the paint and scores an easy layup, cutting the Lightning lead to five. And with that, Gibson calls a time out.”

“I think I need one too, Ted. We?ve been watching an absolutely amazing display of teamwork by the Birmingham Badgers these past few minutes. They?re putting on a clinic out there.”

“Good job, guys,” Caulley said, a rare smile making an appearance as she patted each player who passed her on the way to the bench. The level of excitement was so high from her players that she imagined she could feel it physically, like standing under a high-tension line. “Alright, now let?s not get too cocky here. In case none of you have noticed, we?re still down by five, and the Lightning?s an experienced team, so we?ve gotta take it easy and stay calm, alright?”

The players nodded as they toweled off and sipped from the cups of water handed to them by the trainers.

“Good play-calling, Cat,” Caulley continued, moving to squat in front of her. “Keep it up. Chaney, you?ve obviously found your range, so stick with it. When you see an opening, go for it for as long as you feel you can. We?ll need those threes as often as we can get them. That team over there isn?t going to just roll over and die, no matter who we put up against them.”

“No problem, Coach,” Chane replied, mopping the sweat from her braids.

“Dylan, you?ve got Toomey rattled, which is exactly what we need. Anything you can do to rattle her more, short of fouling, do. With her out of the way, we?re much more evenly matched, height-wise.”

Her face still set as stone, Dylan nodded, piercing eyes leveled at the goings on on the bench across court. Gibson had been sending increasingly murderous looks her way, and she wouldn?t put it past the firebrand coach to send out one of her thugs to make sure her knee didn?t stay as fine as it was feeling at the moment. It could be easily done, foul or no foul, and she?d have to keep a watch out for it as the game progressed. When the next look came her way, she saluted the Lightning coach with the cup she was holding, then quaffed the water and saluted again before crumpling the cup and sending it to the waste-bag for two.

Knowing well that Cat was sitting right next to her, she turned and dropped her lover a wink, the only display of any type of emotion she?d thus far shown. For Cat, it was as good as a grin, and she grinned back, patting Dylan?s thigh just as the whistle blew for the resumption of play.

As she took the court, Cat noticed something by the Lightning bench and reached out to place an arm on Dylan?s wrist. Cold blue eyes looked down at her like a laser, and Cat swallowed hard. “I noticed something,” she said as softly as she could manage, given the crowd?s noise.

Dylan?s eyebrow rose in question.

“Gibbons is putting in Tanya Stephenson.” Her fingers went up in quote marks, though she was deadly serious. “The Enforcer. Please, watch out for her, alright? I?ve got your back, and so does the rest of the team, but?.”

Dylan?s smile was, if possible, colder than her eyes. “Oh,” she purred, voice dark and deep, “I plan to.”

Cat blinked, then nodded as Dylan walked away, setting up to guard against the inbounds pass. The guard exchanged a crosscourt look with Chaney, who gave her an evil little grin and a ?thumbs up? gesture that let Cat relax, at least a little. Shaking her hands out, she went chest to chest with Blevins who was looking to take the outlet from the sideline.

“I guess we?ll see if Coach Gibson?s sideline pep-talk was effective, Lori.”

“If it isn?t, putting Stephenson in for Gathers may well be, Ted.”

“This is true, Lori. Stephenson certainly isn?t known for her shooting ability, and with an average of four fouls per game, it?s quite obvious, at least to me, what her role is going to be these next few minutes.”

“It sure will be interesting to see how it plays out, Ted.”

“We?ll just have to watch and see, Lori. The referee has just handed the ball to Holloway, who is closely guarded by Lambert. Holloway gets a pass in to Blevins, who dribbles, then passes to Stephenson, back to Blevins, over to Race, who sets up a half-court offensive play. The Badgers are still in their box-and-one with Hodges now guarding Race.

“Race takes her time, waiting for the play to set up. Holloway moves in toward low post, then back out. She takes the pass from Race?it slides off her fingers, ball?s loose, Blevins recovers and shoots it out to Race. Race dishes it back to Stephenson a few steps in from half-court as the rest of the players reset. Stephenson passes to Blevins, back to Stephenson, who drives toward the paint. Chaney slides over to help Lambert. OH! Write MasterCard all over that one, folks! She wasn?t even trying for the basket!

“Lambert and Chaney are down. Chaney pops back up?”

“Flagrant, ref!” Chaney shouted. “Flagrant! You saw what she was tryin? to do!”

Smiling a little, the ref shook her head and called the charge as Cat ran over to Dylan. “Are you alright?”

“I?m fine,” Dylan replied, shrugging off Cat?s hand and standing on her own. She looked over at Stephenson, who was smirking at her, and held up one finger. “That?s one,” she mouthed, pleased when the smirk faded a bit from the red-headed giant.

“You?re fucked, meat,” Chaney said, going chest to belly with the much taller Stephenson.

“You ain?t pretty enough, Chaingang,” Stephenson replied, blowing the smaller player a kiss and trotting off, laughing.

“Well, Stephenson?s showing her true colors early on, Ted.”

“You?re right about that, Lori. The referee must have been inclined to give out a freebie, because that?s about as flagrant as it gets.”

“The Badgers managed to hold their poise, though, so I guess we?ll see what else The Enforcer has up her sleeve. Cooper takes the ball and passes off to Hodges, who dribbles downcourt and rifles a pass off to Anya, who shoots it over to Chaney. Chaney looks, dribbles, oh, Blevins steals the ball and heads downcourt! Holloway is pacing her, but she takes it all the way, stops at the line and shoots! Score another three for Taretha Blevins. And the Lightning crowd comes to its feet, their lead suddenly back to eight points.”

“That was a beautiful play, Ted. Blevins is the league scoring leader, and it?s because of plays like that one. She?s got the eye and the range, that?s for sure.”

“Lambert takes the in-bounds pass from Hodges, then gives it back to her. Hodges passes crosscourt to Cooper, back to Hodges, over to Chaney. Lambert moves to low post, receives the pass and kicks it back out to Hodges. Hodges to Chaney, down to Anya who shoots a short range jumper that rattles off the rim. Lambert up for the rebound?and Stephenson cuts her legs out from under her! Oh, that was a nasty play! Looks like Lambert might be hurt. No, she?s up, and boy is she cool as ice, folks! Anybody else would probably have taken a swing, but the Goddess is earning her name out there today.

“She steps up to the free throw line. Apparently, this time the official saw the flagrant foul, though it would have been pretty hard to miss. She takes the ball. It?s up, and in. Her freethrow style certainly hasn?t changed. No dribble. Just up and?in again. Four points so far for Lambert this game. And the lead is now down to six.

“Race dribbles down the court, guarded closely by Hodges. She dishes off to Holloway who tries a twelve footer. No go. Lambert up again for the rebound. She gets it and absolutely wings a pass to Hodges streaking down the sideline. And it?s an easy layup from the little guard from UCONN, cutting the Lightning lead to four points. Very impressive.”

“That was a very impressive pass, Ted. Not many women in the league have the arm strength to throw the ball that hard and that far down the court, especially with such pinpoint perfection.”

“Could be why she?s the Goddess and the rest of us are just mere mortals, Lori?. Holloway takes the pass and hands it to Race. Race tosses a long cross court pass to Stephenson who dishes it to Blevins. Blevins starts in, then steps back. Hodges is all over her like cheap perfume tonight. Looking?looking?she dishes off to Holloway, back to Race who resets the play. Race fakes to Stephenson, then bounce passes to Toomey who?s in the paint. She lays it up?it bounces off the rim, and back in again for two points. The luck of the Irish was with her on that one. The lead is back up to six with time slowly counting down.

“Chaney takes the pass from Anya and hands it off to Hodges. Hodges dribbles freely down the court, setting up her play. She passes to Cooper at the top of the key. Cooper turns and fires one over the heads of everyone, right into the hands of Lambert, who?s being extremely closely guarded by Stephenson. There?s a little pushing and shoving. Lambert dribbles, nice crossover, moves to her left, off a nice pick by Chaney, who rolls back, takes the pass from Lambert and shoots a midrange jumper that sails through for two and the lead, yet again, is back down to four.”

“Pick and roll, baby. Pick and roll. I?ll be doin that to you allll night, meat.”

“Go fuck your mother some more, bitch,” was Stephenson?s smart retort.

“Nah, she doesn?t scream for it like yo mama do, meat.”

“There?s some trash talking going on down there, Ted, between Chaney and Stephenson. Apparently, Chaney?s taken exception to the Enforcer?s treatment of her teammate and coach. Lambert moves in and pulls Chaney away, settling her player down somewhat.”

“Stephenson flicks a lazy pass to Toomey, who puts it down on the ground and is pickpocketed by Hodges. Oh, what a beautiful move. She?s dribbling down the court, tailed by Lambert and Chaney. Passes to Chaney, who dishes it off to Lambert who goes over the head of Stephenson for a JAM, ladies and gentlemen! The first dunk of the season, and it comes in this semifinal match.”

“That was a thing of beauty, Ted, and the look on Stephenson?s face right now?well?if revenge is a dish best served cold, she just got a heapin? helpin? of ice cubes shoved right down her shorts.”

“Stephenson isn?t very happy with events, Ted. She?s stalking after Lambert, who has her back turned and?oh! Stephenson gets absolutely bulldozed by Chaney and Hodges! Lambert steps in again, grabbing the two guards by the back of their jerseys while Toomey and Holloway restrain Stephenson who looks like she?s ready to do some serious damage right about now.”

“The officials have stepped in. Let?s see if they?re going to assess some technicals to these players. Fighting is very frowned upon in the league after last year?s debacle that cost Myrna Hamilton her sight. No?looks like they?re just going to let play resume. I guess that was a warning shot over the bow, Lori.”

“Well, no fists were thrown, so I?m guessing they?re going by the letter of the law here, Ted. I?m not sure I like what that says about tonight?s officials, though.”

“Look,” Dylan said, hands still full of jersey, “I appreciate what you?re both trying to do, but you need to let me handle this my own way, alright?”

“She?s tryin? to kill you out there, Coach!” Chaney protested. “Motherfucker!”

“I understand that. But if either of you gets ejected, we are going to lose this game. So just keep your cool and let me handle Stephenson, alright?”

“How?s your knee?” Cat asked.

“My knee is fine,” Dylan replied through gritted teeth. “You?re the team captain, Cat. Start acting like one and not like a thug, alright?”

Cat blinked, stung by her lover?s words. “But—.”

“I?m serious, Cat. You let me worry about Stephenson. You worry about this team.”

“But you?re part of this team!”

“Yeah, I am. A small part.” She sighed. “Listen, Cat. I can handle her. She?s nothing but an overgrown bully who thinks she?s the top dog in the pen. You two start acting like dogs, she?s gonna come after you. Let me handle this, alright?”

Dejected, both women nodded. “We gotcha, Coach,” Chaney said, eyeing her sneakers and looking oddly adolescent. “We?ll back off.”

“Alright, then. Let?s go play some ball.”

“Well, ladies and gentlemen, it?s less than two minutes to go in the second half of play, and the Badgers, true to their name, have come out scrapping. Stephenson?s intimidator tactics have been neutralized by Lambert, courtesy of several spectacular shots right over the big woman. Looks like the intimidator has become the intimidated. Gathers is back in in her normal position as the Lightning, to pull this off, need all the firepower they can get. Badgers ahead by three, and the Lightning have the ball.

“The Badgers have shifted into a one-three-one trap type defense whose sole purpose is to get the ball out of Blevins? hands. Gathers inbounds to Race, who heads for the paint, fakes a shot, fakes a pass, then moves in again, dodging and dipping her way through the larger bodies. She lays it up. It hits the front part of the rim and bounces straight up. Lambert and Gathers go for the rebound. Lambert grabs it and uses her sharp elbows to clear out a space for herself. She passes to Chaney, who loses the handle.

“Toomey picks it up and shoots from the key. Scores! The lead is now cut to one with?less than a minute to play. Perfect foul situation for the Lightning.”

“Yes, just don?t foul Hodges, who is the Badgers? best free throw shooter at seventy eight percent from behind the line.”

“Lambert takes the ball out of bounds, guarded heavily by Gathers and Holloway. Race and Blevins are all over Hodges, and Chaney breaks free, wide open. Lambert sees her, but can?t get the pass off.

“The ref is counting down the final seconds. Lambert lifts the ball, and throws it at the belly of Gathers. The ball bounces off of her and out of bounds. Good play to keep possession by Lambert.”

“It was a gutsy call, Ted. Gathers could have easily caught that and scored the lead basket. Lambert was lucky that time.”

“There?s a switch behind the endline as now Toomey handles the ball. Chaney sets a pick for Hodge?s defender, springing the point guard, who catches the pass with sure hands. Turning, she sees Lambert streaking down the sideline all alone, and as the clock begins to wind down, she launches an airball as hard and as high as she can make it.

“The ball lands in Lambert?s hands at the apex of her jump and she JAMS it through. The perfect alley oop schoolyard play, but in this case, it worked to perfection. The lead?s back up to three.

“The Lightning race back and get the ball. The seconds are ticking down. Gathers manages to get a pass off to Blevins who is immediately fouled by Chaney.”

“A good call, Ted. The Badgers are just at their team limit, and Blevins can sometimes be inconsistent with her free-throws.”

“It?s a one and one situation, here as Blevins steps up to the line and receives the ball. She dribbles, looks, and shoots. The ball rattles around the rim, then goes through, cutting the lead to two.

“Pretty much everybody in the house knows this is going to be a deliberate miss, Ted. It?ll be interesting to see what the Badgers have planned. Lambert and Gathers switch sides, ready to box out.”

“Blevins steps up to the line. She dribbles once, twice, looks, and launches a complete brick that hits the rim and bounces nearly back to her. Hodges steps in and grabs the rebound, but has it stripped from her hands by Race. Both women go down and the ball rolls free. Lambert vaults the pile of bodies and lands on the ball just as the buzzer sounds, ending the game, and with it the Lightning?s hope for a repeat championship appearance.”

“It wasn?t a pretty game, but it sure was a gutsy one, Ted, I?ll have to give both teams that as we watch the euphoric Badgers dogpile on their Coach who still has the ball in her hands.”

“Interestingly, the only person who looks upset about this is Lightning Coach Merla Gibbons. The rest of the team is helping Lambert to her feet and showering her with as much congratulations as are the members of her own team.”

“Well, she played with them for many years, don?t forget, and I think they can be forgiven for feeling some of the same excitement we feel just watching her out on the court again.”

“Very much so, Ted. Well, that about wraps it up here at Bayou Arena, with the Birmingham Badgers coming out on top of the Louisiana Lightning 74-72. For Ted Richardson and all the rest of us at ESPN, this is Lori Belchar wishing you all a good night.”

Cat sat in the hot tub up to her chin. Every muscle in her body hurt. Some of them hurt twice. All she wanted to do was soak, take a hot shower , crawl into bed next to Dylan, and sleep for a week. If Dylan was in the mood to share her bed, that was. The tall coach had been very quiet during the drive home. Part of it, Cat knew, was processing the game and her role in it. Part of it, too, was the fact that she hadn?t “come all the way back” from the Dylan Lambert she was on court?the cold, stone-faced, nothing-but-business persona that Cat had, from time to time, caught glimpses of, but never directed at her.

The memory of Dylan?s words to her on the court still stung, even though she understood the logic of them. It was the lack of emotion behind those words that cut into her heart and made her feel, if not unwanted, at least rebuked.

As if on cue, Dylan entered the room with two glasses of juice. Dropping her robe she slid into the tub next to the blonde, groaning all the way down. “Oh God.”

“Tell me about it,” Cat took the offered juice, enjoying the fact that it was ice cold. “My aches have aches.” A moment later, she opened her eyes to see the perfect bud of a long-stemmed blood red rose just beneath her nose. “Thank you,” she said, surprised, as she carefully took the rose from her partner?s fingers.

“Thank you,” Dylan replied. “For putting up with me out there today. I know it?s not something you?re used to seeing, or dealing with.”

Cat chuckled, as if she hadn?t been having those very same thoughts just seconds before. “It?s alright, love. It?s not like you haven?t spoken firmly to me as my coach, you know.”

“I know. But it?s different getting ?talked to? by your coach and getting ragged on by a teammate.”

“Well,” Cat replied thoughtfully, “that?s true. And I?ll have to admit that it knocked me for a loop for a bit. But I thought about it?even while you were just talking to me, actually, and, well, I think I understand better now. I mean, it?s the first time I?ve really seen you with your game face on, and that?s a part of your personality I?m just going to have to get used to as I get more exposure to it.”

“You talk like my playing is a permanent thing.”

“Well, I think that based on what you proved out there today, it can be, if you want it to.”

“Mm.”

“Anyway,” Cat continued lightly, knowing this was a subject at its end, “it?s something to think about. Right now, though, all I can think about is my aching muscles.”

“This is the best thing for you. Just sit in here for about a half hour and tomorrow it won?t hurt nearly as much.”

“You?re trying to make it better aren?t you?”

“Yes.”

“You?re lying aren?t you?”

“Yes.”

Cat smiled and slid closer, giving Dylan a kiss on the cheek. “You?re sweet.”

“I had plans tonight,” Dylan sighed. “I was going to treat the team to dinner and then come back here and make love to you.”

“Just me or the whole team?”

Dylan growled and splashed water at Cat. “Brat.” She grimaced and straightened her own leg.

“Your knee?”

“It?s a little stiff,” she allowed.

“You know a very wise person once told me if you soak in a hot tub for a half hour the pain won?t be so bad in the morning.”

One blue eye opened and looked at the grinning blonde. “I could drown you, you know?”

“True, but you won?t.”

“Why not?”

“Because I?m the only one who knows how to make you forget when your knee is bothering you.”

“You are in no condition to do that.”

“Well, perhaps I could invite you into the shower with me and I could wash your back. It might not make you forget, but it certainly couldn?t hurt.”

Dylan?s brow rose as she sipped her own juice. “True.”

Cat rubbed her hands over Dylan?s back, knowing she should be using the sponge to actually do some washing, but why anyone would want a sponge between them and Dylan?s silky skin, she just couldn?t fathom.

The water ran over them from multiple jets set to massage their bodies gently, though as Dylan leaned with her hands against the wall, she realized Cat was doing a much better job than the showerheads ever could. “I have I told you tonight, I love you?”

“You haven?t mentioned it tonight.”

Dylan turned and looked into Cat?s eyes. “My mistake. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

“How?s your knee?”

“I?ll show you mine if you show me yours.” Cat smiled and leaned up to kiss her lover.

The kiss, which was meant to be chaste, quickly turned passionate. The warmth of the water enhanced the heat between them as their hands began to explore well-known flesh. Cat forgot the pain in her body as Dylan?s touch turned insistent, causing her nerve endings to focus on other things.

The wall of she shower was cool against her back, making a delightful contrast for her as her eyes slipped closed when she felt Dylan, kissing her way down her body. There was soft moan when the sensation of the water running over her stomach continued down, only to have Dylan kissing it away.

“Your knee?” Cat managed to concentrate long enough to gasp it out even as her fingers tangled in dark, wet hair.

“Shhhh?” Dylan whispered, becoming more focused on her task.

It didn?t take long before they were both on the floor of the shower. What had started with Dylan taking charge was now a mutual exploration in pleasure and satisfaction. As their bodies released and fell together, Dylan managed to pull them up against the wall to keep the water from overwhelming them.

“Oh to hell with the hot tub,” Cat sighed, pushing her hair from her eyes.

“How ya feelin??” Shaniqua Chaney asked Cat as she came to sit next to her on the locker-room bench. Though they were deep in the underground of Metropolitan Sports Arena, they could feel the crowd noise pulsing around them like the beat of a heart. It was, in a word, unnerving.

“Well,” Cat replied, taking a sip of water and praying it would stay down this time, “breakfast, lunch, and all three of yesterday?s meals never got a chance to become fat cells, and my toenails were in danger of coming up through my throat, so if that?s any indication?.” Chaney winced in sympathy. “How about you?”

“Well, my food managed to stay where it?s supposed to, but I?m about as nervous as a longtailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs.”

“How?quaint.”

“You dissin my grandpappy?”

“God forbid,” Cat replied, hand over her heart to show her sincerity. “I?m sure he was a very wise old fellow in his day.”

“Was? Girl, he?s sitting in the stands somewhere with his cane, his hearing aids, and his air horn. Best be hopin? it?s not too close to the court! He?ll blast you one and you won?t come down till after you?ve gone around Mars a few times!”

Cat?s laughter had the desired effect on her belly, and her nerves settled to a dull roar. The next sip of water went down easier than the first into a stomach that was now calm, cool, and steady. “Thanks, Chane,” she said, finally, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

“No problem, Shortchange. Can?t have our point guard with a case of the terminal jitters. Bad for business, ya know.”

“I guess you?re right about that.”

“Speaking of terminal, where?s Coach D?”

“I wish I knew,” Cat sighed, throwing her hands in the air. “We split up after we came here and I haven?t seen her since.”

“So, you rode in together,” Chaney said slyly. “Must be nice.” The guard laughed at Cat?s expression. “Oh, c?mon, Shortchange. It?s not like I?m blind to the situation, you know. Hell, I don?t think anyone is. We all think it?s kickin, actually.”

“I don?t want to talk about it,” Cat mumbled, flushed face hidden in her hands.

“You?re gonna be up in the sky box with him, right?” Dylan asked, leaning against the wall in her warm-ups.

“Yeah, yeah. You just worry about playing. Let me worry about the old man, alright?”

“Mac, something?s going on. I can feel it in my gut. I haven?t been able to get ahold of him for the last three days, and if you?d have seen the look on his face when I stepped out onto the court?.”

“I know. And I?m trying to get to the bottom of it. And I will, I promise.”

“By then, it might be too late.”

“Let me do my job, D,” he replied, putting a hand on her shoulder and squeezing lightly. “You just concentrate on winning this damn thing. If it?s what you think, and he?s stacking his cards against the Badgers taking it all, winning will piss him off more than anything else could. Then we?ll see what happens.”

Dylan sighed. “I don?t like it.”

“Either do I. Just?trust me, okay?”

“Alright,” Dylan replied, summoning up a small smile. “Good luck.”

“To you as well, my friend. Kick some ass.”

Dylan took a blistering pass from Cat on the fly and didn?t even bother to dribble as she left her feet for a thunderous jam. At the last second, Tanisha Bradford, center for the Monarch, slipped into a blocking stance after Dylan?s feet had already left the ground. The two collided and Jackson, no doubt trying for the Best Actress award at the next year?s Oscars, fell to her back with a loud cry.

“Foul!” the ref shouted, waving his arm. “No basket!”

“What the hell?!?” Cat yelled, running up to the ref. She would have grabbed his arm and spun him around, no doubt earning her an ejection, if Chaney hadn?t luckily gotten there first and grabbed her arm, pulling her quickly away. “Let me go,” Cat growled from between clenched teeth. “Now!”

“No way, man!” Chaney growled back, shaking Cat like a terrier with a bone. “That?s just what they want, don?t you get it? The refs are shit, man! They?re gettin? paid off!” The guard held tight as Cat tried to wriggle free, her gaze rapt to Dylan as she pulled herself out of a tangle of arms and legs and slowly straightened, testing out the strength in her knee. “Listen, Shortchange. This ain?t college ball.” Chaney?s breath was hot on her face. “This is business, man! All fuckin? business! Look at it! Big D?s got three fouls on her and she ain?t touched nobody! You! You got four fuckin traveling calls! I bet you ain?t traveled since you were in grade school!”

Chaney?s words finally got through, and Cat stopped struggling, then turned to her friend, expression set. “What are you saying?”

“It?s a sham, Cat! Nothin? but a fuckin? sham. We?re pawns in some fuckin? chess game so Johnson can get his latest ?ho a new Mercedes. Don?t you get it? He?s bettin? against us!”

“But that—.”

“But nothin?, Shortchange. Face the facts here. He wants us to lose and he?s paid off the fuckin? refs to make sure it happens.”

“But why would he bet against his own team?”

Chaney snorted. “He don?t give a shit about no fucking championship trophy, Cat. It?s all about the green, man. If he can make more dough bettin? against us, that?s what he?s gonna do. Face it, Cat. We?re bein? played.”

“You don?t sound too upset about it,” Cat observed.

“I guess I ain?t,” Chaney replied, shrugging. “My contract?s up after this game anyway, and a pro team in Spain offered me some big bucks to come play for them.” She shrugged again. “I?ll probably take ?em up on it.”

“You?d do that, leave the team, leave Dylan like that, even if we win?”

Chaney?s smile was sad as she reached out and gently clasped Cat?s shoulder. “Hon, we ain?t gonna win this one. We gave it a damn good try, but?.” Shaking her head, she walked away, leaving Cat standing alone at center court, her heart a whirl of emotions.

Catching the towel tossed to her by the trainer, Cat sat down on the bench next to Dylan, who was adjusting her knee brace. “You okay?” Cat asked.

“Yeah,” Dylan replied, straightening up and guzzling a bottle of water before turning to look at her lover. “You?”

Cat looked down at her knotted fingers briefly before raising her head to meet Dylan?s intense stare. “Was?what Chaney said to me back there true?”

Looking over Cat?s head, Dylan lifted an eyebrow in Chaney?s direction. Chaney looked back, shame-faced, giving Dylan all the answer she needed to answer that particular unasked question. She returned her attention to her lover. “It?s true.”

Cat?s shoulders sagged. “But why? I don?t mean to come off as terminally naive here, but isn?t betting against your own team, betting at all, you know, illegal?”

“And your point would be??”

“This isn?t a joke, Dylan.”

“Sure it is. Look around you, Cat. This whole thing is a joke. And by now, everybody?s in on it.”

“Except us.”

“We?ve got the starring role, Cat.”

“How long have you known?”

“I suspected something over the past couple of days. The bastard was just a bit too smug. When I actually knew?well, let?s just say in the eight months that I?ve known you as a player, I?ve never seen you travel. And I still haven?t.”

“What are we going to do?”

“Do? What we?ve been doing all year. Play to win.”

“Even if they won?t let us?”

“Especially then. He might be able to keep us from winning, but he?ll never make us lose.”

Cat wanted to have a fit of temper and lay into the referees and opposing players, but she knew that wasn?t really her style and that Dylan would be disappointed in her. As she stood to retake her place on the court, she looked into the seats where the fans were all cheering for the Badgers and she knew she wouldn?t let them down either. She?d play the best game she could and if they lost because the game was rigged, she would know that she did her best against impossible odds.

The thing that bothered her most was the attitude of the other team; they really seemed to be getting off on what was happening. She wondered if they were in on it too, or just stupid. It was true that they were a damn good team, and under normal circumstances the Badgers would be working hard to give them a run for their money, but now the game was being handed to them and they seemed to be enjoying it.

She took a deep breath, as the ball was returned to play. This moment seemed to be going well. They were moving the ball down the court for a shot; the ball came to her and made a fast pass to Dylan who was clear and ready for a beautiful three pointer.

Then it happened. As they tried to block Dylan she whirled to get around them and the whistle blew. She had felt her elbow make contact with her opponent when she tried to make the turn, but she knew, the opponent knew and the fans knew it was accidental and would have been ?incidental? contact in a normal game. But this was not a normal game.

“Son of a bi?” the look from Dylan stopped the words form Cat?s mouth as they waited for the ref to make his call. Dylan was warning her against getting pitched out for unsportsmanlike behavior, because the coach knew damn good and well the ref?s would do it.

When the foul call came down and Dylan was sent to the bench the fans were on their feet, screaming and yelling and booing. The referees (and coincidentally some players as well) were pelted with programs and wadded bits of paper that rained down on the court. A time out was called to get the litter cleaned up.

Cat closed her eyes and scratched her fingers over her scalp to work out some of the frustration she was feeling. She didn?t care if it did go against her personal code. Someone was going to die if this kept up. Striding over to the bench, she grabbed a towel and draped it over her head as she took a long hit from the water bottle thrust into her hand.

“Well that?s it; they?ve managed to wrack them up against us?” Caulley remarked, looking down at her ever-present clipboard. It was covered with scribbles that might as well be Egyptian hieroglyphics for all the good they were doing the team.

“It?s bullshit!” Cat growled as she toweled her neck.

“I know it is, Catherine, but we don?t have a choice. Dylan is done, so we need to do the best we can here. From this point forward, we?re playing a straight passing game and we?re going to do our damndest to keep ourselves and the ball away from them. If we can?t get close to them, then we don?t want them close to us.”

“They?ll just call us out for traveling.” Chaney grumbled from her position kneeling at the coach?s feet. “Look at what they?ve been doing to Shortchange.”

“There?s no easy answer here.”

“Maybe we should just forfeit.”

“No way.” Caulley stood, pointing her tablet at the guard. “You?re going to go back out there and you?re going to play this game. We?re not going to let these people down. You can bet we?re going to challenge these calls, but we can?t do it now. All we can do it give it our best shot.”

Diana looked at each of her players and she could see that mentally, they were beaten, but she wasn?t going to let them give in. “I promise you all that this will work out. Not today and maybe not tomorrow, but it will work out. You have to act like the professionals you are. So go back out there and do your best. Party at Dylan’s house tonight for the best damn team in the league.”

Everyone couldn?t help but laugh as they made their plans to finish the game.

Dylan zipped her warm-up jacket as she strode down the short, dark hallway toward the Skybox that held one Horace Johnson. Standing next to the closed door was Mac, resplendent in a dark suit and crisp white shirt, his face grim. “D….”

“Buzz off, Mac.”

“But—”

“I’m serious. You don’t want to be here right now. I’ll catch up with you later.” She reached for the door handle, only to have Mac’s huge hand clamp onto her wrist at the last second. She looked down at the hand for a moment, then turned cold, steel-colored eyes to her friend. One eyebrow slowly rose.

Clearing his throat, Mac released her wrist, and thrust a folder into her face. “Before you do anything, just take a look at this, alright?”

After a moment, she relaxed her muscles and, with a frustrated breath, grabbed the folder. Inside were three summary sheets. She began to smile. It wasn’t a pleasant one, by any means, but its very presence caused Mac to breathe a silent sigh of relief.

“We got the bastard,” she said finally, eyes sparkling fiercely.

“Yeah, we got him. Safely, and legally. D, listen to me, please. You don’t have to do…whatever it is that you’re going in there to do. You do something stupid, and this could all blow up in our faces.”

“‘Stupid’ as in using his fat head to test the tensile strength of the window glass inside his skybox?”

“Yeah, something like that.”

Dylan patted his chest with the folder. “No worries, my friend.”

“But—”

“I mean it. This is between Horace and me. You were never here. Now buzz off.”

“Dylan….”

“Now.”

With a grunt, he pushed himself away from the wall. “Don’t make me have to bail you out of jail, D. Not again. Please.”

“Just go.”

A last, pleading look, and he went.

Dylan twisted the door handle, opened the heavy door, and slipped silently inside. Horace was alone, standing before the huge windows of his box, staring down onto the court. He was rocking on his toes, hands clamped behind his back. He looked, in short, like a naughty little boy whose dreams were one second away from coming true.

“Always were a little lax with your personal security, weren’t ya, Horace?”

Johnson slowly turned. His smirk seemed a permanent fixture on his seamed, homely face. “Ms. Lambert, how wonderful to see you here, darkening my doorstep.” He looked down at the folder in her hand. “Your letter of resignation, I presume? It’s a terrible pity, though it has been fully documented that ones of your particular…perversion…never were able to accept responsibility.”

Dylan crossed the room in a few long, silent strides. “You’ll probably want to be rethinking that…boss.”

“Really? Why?” His eyes were filled with a babe’s innocence, but the smirk never left his face. “Whatever you’re going to show me, Ms. Lambert, please do it quickly. I’m missing the end of the game.”

“As if you didn’t know how it was gonna end already. Does the name Tony Scippone ring any kind of a bell with you, Horace?”

A muscle twitched, just briefly, near the corner of one eye. Then his brow smoothed and the smug look returned. “Can’t say as it does, Ms. Lambert. Friend of yours? Fellow Sodomite, perhaps?”

“Las Vegas bookie, actually. Some degenerate laid down two hundred grand on the Badgers to lose by fourteen or more points.”

“Really,” he drawled, rocking on his toes again. “I’d say that that person was in for quite a handsome profit, given that the team is currently losing by….” A quick look over his shoulder, “...twenty one.”

Dylan shrugged. “Guess you’re going to have to fire the help, then. Seems that your new admin assistant…Bambi….Barbie….Bimbo…whomever placed the bet in her name, but used your line of credit with ol’ Tony to do it.”

The muscle twitched again, then smoothed. “Pity. She had the makings of an excellent assistant.”

“Betting against your own team, Horace. That’s a new low, even for you. Of course, it’s not just the kind of thing that’s against league rules. It’s also illegal.”

“What you lack, Ms. Lambert, other than good breeding and good manners, is proof. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’d like to get back to the game. Leave now, or I’ll have security escort you out, and it’s you who will be spending the night in jail.”

“I wonder how many of those refs your purchased tonight will stay bought?” she mused, as if to herself.

Johnson frowned. “That is the second slanderous allegation you’ve made against me in these past ten minutes, Ms. Lambert. Because I’m a gentleman, I’ll allow you those two free of charge, as they say. A third, and you will be escorted from here directly to the nearest police station, and that I can assure you.”

Dylan smiled her dangerous smile. “Oh, I think I’ll chance it, Horace. Because I really don’t think you’d want me to leave before you had the chance to look at this.”

With an easy toss, the file slipped into his hands. “Really, Ms. Lambert,” he remarked with a martyred sigh, “you’re becoming quite the bore. If I didn’t know any better, I’d…..” There his voice trailed off as he opened the folder and began to read the documents inside. His face paled even as a string of sweat beads popped out across his forehead.

“Horace, Horace, Horace. If you’re gonna try to make a living outta scamming Wall Street with that insider trading shit, don’t you think you should have taken a couple lessons from Martha and covered your tracks just a little bit better?”

He looked up at her. His mouth opened. Then closed. Then opened again, and stayed that way.

Grinning, Dylan slipped into one of the obscenely opulent skybox seats and crossed her legs casually. “Now it seems to me that my best course of action would be to call the cops right now. But, because I’m a ‘lady’, and a fair one at that, I figure now might be the perfect time for us to do a little dealing.”

A strangled sound came out of his mouth.

Dylan smirked. “I’ll take that as a ‘yes’.” She pretended to think on her words. “You’re scum, Horace. You know it. I know it. Your wife and kids know it. But you’re lucky, because I like your wife, and your kids. A lot. Almost as much as I detest you. And I really don’t want to see them deprived of your company—and your money—for, oh, say the next ten years or so.”

Another strangled noise. The folder slipped from his hands as one fist came up to clench at his heart.

“Not that I wouldn’t spill every single word in those documents to the DA, the press, and anyone else I felt like spilling it to, but if you give me a reason not to, I might be persuaded to keep my mouth shut. For now.” When it was obvious he was incapable of responding, she continued. “Here’s my one time only, never to be repeated, take it or leave it offer, Horace. You let Cat out of her contract, quickly and quietly. An amicable decision all the way around. No whispers of improprieties, no nothing. You just…let her go. Me, you can fire if it’ll make you feel any better, but Cat is not negotiable. You also let anyone else who wants to get off this team go, no questions asked. And…for my final demand, you sell the team. Tell the league owners it’s too hard on your health. Tell them it takes too much time away from you banging your secretary. Tell them anything you want, but you sell and retire from the sport permanently.” She smiled. “If you don’t, then I walk, and then I talk, and I keep on talking until there is nothing left of you but a pair of holey boxers. Do we understand one another?”

“Urk….heart…..”

“Heart? You mean you actually have one of those? Please.”

“...heart….”

Dylan slowly stood until she was towering over him. “Do we have a deal, Horace? A simple yes or no will suffice. Yes, and I get on the horn and get you an ambulance. No, and I get on the horn and get the cops. What’ll it be?”

“Fuck…you….dyke….”

“Bzzt! Wrong answer.” She strode easily over to the phone hanging on one wall. “I’m sorry about this, Horace. Really, I am. But if you can’t swim with the big dogs, well….I’m sure you know how the rest of it goes.”

“Yes! Yes!! ....deal….!”

Dylan beamed. “I knew you’d see it my way eventually. For the record, though, I would have called in the paramedics either way. You’re scum, but I want you to live with your mistakes and my threat hanging over your head for a good long while. I get nasty that way when you threaten people I love.” Picking up the phone, she called for the paramedics and ambulance crew stationed outside the arena. Hanging up, the turned to the pale, panting man and patted one of his cheeks before bending down and retrieving the folder. “Goodbye, Horace. A little slice of heaven, and all that.”

As she exited the box, he slid slowly down the wall, clutching his chest and retching violently. Behind him, barely heard, the buzzer sounded, ending the game.

Cat walked, shoulders slumped, down the long, dark hallway leading to the locker room. She could hear the boos of the crowd echoing along the corridor, but it did little to lift her spirits. Even the fact that she’d managed, somehow, to score thirty two points in the game didn’t cheer her. If she had known that her last second three pointer had narrowed the lead to eleven, thus losing the ubiquitous Horace Johnson two hundred thousand plus dollars, she might have smiled.

Then again, she might not have.

Cat was a woman who didn’t like to lose. And she had never, ever lost a championship game she’d ever been a part of, from the Bridgeport Girl’s Club Rec League all the way through her final year at UConn. When it counted, she always found a way to win.

Always.

“Except today,” she mumbled, looking at the scuffed and dirty floor as it passed beneath her scuffed and dirty sneakers. “Fuck.”

“You kiss your mother with that mouth?”

As Cat looked up, Dylan detached herself from the shadows, crossed over to her, and enveloped her in her long, strong arms. “Hey, sweetheart.”

Cat snuggled into the warm embrace, tears pricking at her eyes. “I’m sorry, Dylan,” she murmured against the fabric of her lover’s warm-up jacket.

Dylan pulled away just enough to reach a hand under Cat’s chin and tilt it up so that their eyes met. “Sorry? What could you possibly be sorry for? You did great!”

“But we lost!”

“Hon, that wasn’t your fault.”

“But—”

“Cat, listen to me. You did everything you could. How many times does the point guard, one with four fouls against her, by the way, get to be the high scorer of the game? Thirty two points, Cat! Seven steals! Nineteen assists! Those are All-Star numbers! Hell, they’re Hall of Fame numbers! You need to be proud of that! I sure as Hell am!”

Cat shook her head, looking away from her lover’s blazing eyes. “It doesn’t matter. We still lost.”

“No, Cat. Remember what I said before. We didn’t win because Horace fixed it. But we’re not losers. Listen to that crowd out there. They know who won. And it wasn’t the Monarch, no matter what the scoreboard says.” She chuckled. “And it certainly wasn’t Horace Johnson, either.”

Cat’s eyes went round. “What? But how can you— But you said—”

“Yeah, he bet against us, that’s true enough. But, he also bet against the spread, and with your last second bucket, you brought us inside that spread and he lost himself a bundle of cash.” The wan smile she received wasn’t enough, and Dylan took her lover back into her arms again. “Sweetheart, within a week, probably less, your phone is going to start ringing off the hook with calls from owners, coaches and scouts who want to wine and dine you into accepting a huge dollar contract from them. The same with sponsors. Your agent’s gonna think she died and went to Agent Heaven. With how you performed out there today, despite all the obstacles thrown in your path, you can write your own ticket. You won, Cat. You won it all.”

“But…what about the contract I already have? With the Badgers?”

“If it isn’t dissolved yet, it soon will be. Easy split, no nasty words, you’re just left free and clear to follow your heart.”

Cat looked up at Dylan, her eyes showing her puzzlement. “But…how?”

“Horace and I…came to an understanding.” That shark’s grin came again. “In exchange for keeping some rather nasty information to myself, you get cut loose with no strings, anyone else who wants to leave gets the same ticket and, for the piece de resistance….” She twirled an imaginary moustache, “...he’s selling the team.”