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DeMarcus recognized the line from the science fiction movie The Matrix. Had she quoted it on purpose? “I don’t know, Morpheus. Tell me.”
Jaclyn smiled at his reference to Laurence Fishburne’s character in the movie. “I’ve studied you.”
“What did you learn?”
“You’re a gentleman.”
He arched a brow. “That’s bad?”
“Not at all. I find the quality very attractive.”
The buzz in his blood settled a little lower in DeMarcus’s stomach. A slow, easy breath helped him think. “But?”
“No buts. I was able to use that quality to my advantage during the game. For example, you didn’t want to play on my left because you assumed it’s not my strong side.”
DeMarcus smiled. “I was wrong.”
“And you said you’d watched me play in the WNBA.” Jaclyn tutted. “You also didn’t want to charge me because you didn’t want to risk hurting me.”
“I noticed you didn’t worry about me.”
“Sorry.” Jaclyn finished her glass of water.
DeMarcus kept his eyes glued to hers, ignoring the damp T-shirt that clung to her curves. “Is there a lesson in your game?”
Jaclyn’s grin revealed even, white teeth. “Of course. I love a well-educated man.” She stood and moved to the sink to wash her glass. “I used what I know about you to beat you. By getting to know our players, you can make the best match of their personal ticks against our opponents.”
DeMarcus followed her to the sink. Beneath the earthy scent of sweat was a hint of lilacs. Intoxicating. “I don’t have to psychoanalyze the players to develop the team’s game plans.”
Jaclyn’s shoulder brushed his chest as she turned to him. She stepped back. “I used more than my physical abilities to beat you.” She took his glass, washed it, then set it beside hers on the gray plastic drain board.
DeMarcus moved closer, drawn by her warmth, her scent, her magic. “What would I learn by bonding with the players?”
“Their temperament.” Jaclyn shifted sideways, opening more room between them. “You don’t want a hothead guarding someone who could taunt him into committing a foul.”
Why did she keep moving away? DeMarcus closed the gap. “The team needs discipline more than anything else.”
Jaclyn stepped back. “Exactly. But to bring discipline to our team, you need to know what’s happening to them off the court as well. Players listen to coaches who listen to them.”
DeMarcus stepped forward. “I’m a coach, not a priest.”
Jaclyn’s back bumped the fridge. “Did you know Bling has a drinking problem? I’m sure you’ve noticed Jamal is a ball hog. That’s going to be an issue. And Rick second-guesses himself. That’s going to be a problem, too.”
“I can’t be their coach and their friend. It’s one or the other. You want me to get them to the play-offs. Let me do my job.”
Jaclyn sighed. “All right. Preseason starts in nine days. We’ll see whether your strategy works.”
“It will.”
She pressed her right hand against the center of his chest. “In the meantime, when did you become a close talker? Back up.”
DeMarcus shuddered. Jaclyn’s touch scorched his skin through his jersey. He was edgy, anxious. Like a sixteen-year-old with his first crush. DeMarcus flattened his palms against the refrigerator behind her, caging her in. “You said you can read me. What am I thinking now?”
Her voice was as husky as his. “I can read you loud and clear. But I don’t know if this is wise. I’m your boss.”
His gaze dropped to her lips, full and moist. “Harass me.” DeMarcus waited, willing her to toss caution to the wind with him.
Jaclyn’s hand slid up his chest and curved around the back of his neck. She brought his face closer to hers and raised up on her toes to meet his mouth. DeMarcus groaned. His body warmed as he rubbed his lips across the warm, soft plumpness of hers. He nibbled at them, sipping their sweetness. Her body shivered against him. DeMarcus dropped his hands from the refrigerator to hold her closer against him. Her soft breasts pressed against his chest. He caressed her lithe waist before moving his hands lower to cup her full, firm derriere.
