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Jaclyn froze. “You were handling it?”
His expression grew cautious. “Yes.”
“What’s my role, Marc?”
DeMarcus frowned. “What do you mean?”
Jaclyn struggled to rein in her emotions. This was business. Then why did it feel so personal? “If you’re here to handle crises for the franchise, what’s my role?”
“You’re already dealing with Gerry’s other schemes.”
Could he hear himself? He couldn’t possibly. “You’re going to pick and choose which problems I work on?”
“I’m not trying to tell you how to do your job.”
“It certainly appears that way.”
“I’m trying to help you.”
She was able to control her tone despite her growing agitation. “You thought I was too busy to be told about the libelous article concerning my head coach, which Gerry was shopping to the papers?”
DeMarcus shoved his hands into the front pockets of his black warm-up pants. “I thought I could handle it.”
Jaclyn had heard enough. “Do you want to know what I think? I think you don’t like having me for a boss.”
“What?” He sounded stunned.
“Do you resent reporting to me specifically or women in general?”
DeMarcus pulled his hands from his pockets and hooked them onto his hips. “Now you’re the one being absurd.”
Jaclyn shook her head. “I don’t think so. What am I supposed to believe when you withhold critical information from me regarding my team?”
DeMarcus paced his office. “It was a judgment call to talk to Gerry before I spoke to you.”
“You exhibited very poor judgment.” Jaclyn tracked DeMarcus’s movements around his office. “And this isn’t the first time.”
DeMarcus frowned at her over his shoulder. “What do you mean?”
Jaclyn raised her right arm toward his desk. “We’ve had this conversation before, right here in your office. You were sitting in your chair. I was sitting on the corner of your desk. I told you I needed to know everything that affected the team from tensions between the players and coaches to problems with the equipment. Do you remember that?”
“I thought I had autonomy.” DeMarcus faced Jaclyn. He seemed to vibrate with anger.
Jaclyn narrowed her eyes. What did he have to be angry about? “Don’t try to paint me as some sort of control freak. I’m not a figurehead sitting at a desk approving expense reports all day. If you can’t handle my being your boss, you should have said so that night in Atlanta.”
Silence slammed into the room. Jaclyn stared at DeMarcus. His tall, lean, well-muscled body she loved to explore. His shared passion for the NBA. His quick wit and great sense of humor. She’d thought he was perfect for her. Deep down, were they really so incompatible? Realization was a crushing blow to her heart.
“What are you saying?” DeMarcus’s words came on a faint breath.
She wouldn’t cry. “I told you we needed to keep our personal and professional lives separate if this relationship was going to work.”
DeMarcus went cold. His heart clenched. He was losing her. Dammit. What could he say? What should he do to turn this around? “How did my talking to Gerry cross the line from professional to personal?”
Jaclyn’s eyes were sad. She was already saying good-bye. “If I were Donnie Walsh, president of the Knicks, would you have waited a day before telling me what Gerry was doing?”
DeMarcus didn’t want to answer. “No.”
“Why not?”
