What would happen if the “priest” of basketball, the man most admired by all dedicated superstar athletes, Barry Dennis, met his match?
And his match was a woman?
Roxanne didn’t set out to figure what made the superstar tick, but she found out.
Playing the Game: about more than a ball
“Damn it,” Roxanne muttered. Her drink had splashed on her dress. The crowd was dense. Looking right, and then left, at the partygoers around her, she took a surreptitious glance down to inspect the damage.
A very large, dark, wet spot spread over her left breast. Luckily it was only ice water. Or maybe not so lucky, on second thought. She watched in horror as the red silk material clung to her skin.
“Double damn. My nipple is showing!” This time she forgot to keep her comment under her breath.
“Now that I’d like to see.” The man appeared from nowhere, towering beside her. He watched her reflection in the floor to ceiling window.
The heat of embarrassment ignited her face. The man was no gentleman. Her embarrassment turned to anger in a flash. She jutted her breast out for him to see.
“You can look all you want,” she dared, wanting to shift the discomfort to him.
She thought she’d succeeded, until the signature dimpled half-grin split his face.
“I’m Barry Dennis.” He held out his free hand for her to shake. He held a bottle of beer in the other. The famous lopsided smirk remained in place.
“Must be my lucky night.” She ignored his hand.
Biting her lip, she reminded herself to behave professionally. He was the star attraction at this gala and they were both there to raise money for a good cause.
“I’m Roxanne Monet.” She shook his hand. She eyed him, wondering if he’d dare to say something about her nipple.
“I know who you are. I watched you get fired from your job at the TV studio a few days ago. You were supposed to interview me.” Unrestrained amusement shone in his eyes now and his grin widened. She was really starting to dislike this guy.