all the pictures, and mementos I’ve collected during my career.”
Not wanting to offend the superstar athlete, she said, “Not a problem, I’d love to help out. Just say when—”
“How does tonight sound?”
“Sorry, I’m busy.” Unsettled by his steely gaze, Kyra lowered her eyes and pushed out a breath. She needed to steady her nerves before she embarrassed herself. “Back to your deal with Fox. How are you going to find time to host a Sunday morning sports show, with all the other things you’ve got on the go?”
“I’ll find the time. Sleep’s overrated. As long as I get five hours, I’m good to go.”
“You should take it easy,” she advised. “After ten years and countless hits, fractures and broken bones, you need sufficient rest.”
“Kyra, no one retires at thirty-two. I might not be healthy enough to play football, but I have a few good years left in me.”
“You never were one to heed advice.”
“That’s true.” They were two, meaningless words, but his voice was thick with feeling. His expression sobered. “My mom told me to marry you, but I wouldn’t listen. That was the worst decision I ever made and I’ve regretted...”
Pressing her back flat against the chair, she uncrossed her legs and wrung her hands fretfully in her lap. Kyra wanted to tell Terrence to stop, wanted to tell him to quit living in the past, but the words stuck in her throat. They were lodged so deep she could hardly breathe. Sucking in some fresh air, she decided to deal with his erroneous statements head on. Laughing, joking and reminiscing about the good old days took Kyra back to one of the happiest times in her life, but she had to draw the line. Right here, right now. She wasn’t about to take up with an arrogant skirt-chaser who’d betrayed her once before.
“I’m glad Walter contacted me about the coaching position.” He gazed at her, his eyes bright, his big, handsome smile more endearing than a fluffy, white kitten clawing at the back door. “I have a lot to be thankful for. Job offers are starting to roll in, I’m feeling stronger than I have in years and then there’s...you.”
Kyra wanted to laugh, but didn’t. Terrence Franklin had some nerve. He’d broken her heart when he’d dumped her, but arrogantly thought she could be placated with smooth lines and wide smiles. Waiting impatiently for him to wrap up his speech, she tried not to stare at his thick, juicy lips. An unscrupulous charmer, he lived for the intrusive glare of the spotlight and seemed to derive extreme pleasure from seeing her sweat. Kyra didn’t care if he had a perfect smile, bulging biceps and a tight butt. She wouldn’t date him if he were the last man on Earth. But if all that was true, why was she sitting in the stifling heat, shooting the breeze with Terrence when she had tons of paperwork waiting for her back at the office?
“I’m grateful for this opportunity.” His hand grazed hers. “If it wasn’t for the job offer, I would have missed the chance to see you again.”
It took Kyra a moment to organize her thoughts, but when she opened her mouth, a lie rolled off her lips. “Terrence, you’re a nice guy, and I’m sure you’ll make some woman very happy some day, but with our history we could never be more than friends.”
“You’re getting a head of yourself, aren’t you? We haven’t even had our first kiss yet.” He changed the subject so fast Kyra was convinced she’d misheard him. “What are your plans for the weekend? Got anything special going on?”
“Nothing much. Visiting my parents, cleaning the house, maybe a little baking. What about you?”
“My cousins are huge trivia buffs and they need a third man for their team, so I’ll be at The Tavern tonight kicking some butt.”
Her eyes ballooned. “You play trivia?”
“I know. Geeky, huh?”
“No, not at all. You graduated with high marks in all of your English courses, but you always downplayed how well you did,” she said. “I just couldn’t imagine an NFL superstar like you hanging out with us at The Tavern on Friday night.”
“I’m more than just a handsome athlete, you know. I’m smart, too!” His smile increased tenfold. “You should come by the bar and watch me do my thing.”
“I’ll be there, but not to watch you,” she told him, with a dismissive shake of her head. “My team, the Foxy Cleopatras, are the reigning champs.”
“Well, prepare to be dethroned!”
“It’s not going to happen, Terrence. We’ve been undefeated for weeks.”
“But there’s a new sheriff in town,” he countered, “and I hate to lose.”
“I don’t know what your cousins told you, but trivia night at The Tavern isn’t for the faint of heart. The questions are hard, the competition is tough and the crowd’s wild.”
“I played in the NFL. I can handle a bunch of suits and nerds.”
“Who are you calling a nerd?” To underscore her disgust, she gave a snort of disdain. “What’s your team name?”
“The Verbal Ninjas.”
“That’s original,” she drawled.
“It doesn’t matter what we’re called. You’re going down!”
Kyra burst into uncontrollable laughter. “Keep dreaming, pretty boy! You have a better chance of being struck by lightning than beating me!”
“Wanna bet?” He slanted his head to the right, studying her, examining her, wondering how to make this deal work to his advantage. “If I win, you have to cook dinner for me tomorrow night and if I lose I’ll take care of your landscaping.”
“You?” The skepticism in her voice was palpable.
“I had my own landscaping business when I was a kid. Ten dollars a yard. It wasn’t much, but it kept me out of trouble.”
In jest she said, “I’d hate for you to ruin your sneakers.”
“Then you better bring your A game, because I play to win!” Terrence fished some bills out of his wallet and placed them on the silver billet. Grinning like a Cheshire cat, he stood and came around the table. He pulled up behind her chair and placed a hand on her shoulder. “How about that tour? I thought we could start at...”
Terrence murmured in her ear, and chills zipped down her back. Against her will, but too dumbfounded to protest, Kyra rose on wobbly, sweat-drenched legs. She commanded her feet to move, and they reluctantly obliged. With a hand fixed to the slope of her back, his touch more dizzying than a French kiss, he escorted her through the sun-drenched patio and out onto Stayler Avenue.
Known for its fine dining, designer boutiques and ten-thousand square-foot mansions, Highland Hills was home to some of the most prominent businessmen in the state. And on Friday nights, the movers and shakers in the community crammed into The Tavern for old-fashioned steaks, vintage wine and scintillating conversation.
Desperate to escape the pelting rain, Kyra yanked open the wooden door and rushed inside, almost knocking over a teenage girl with dyed blue hair. Housed in a historic bungalow, The Tavern had long been regarded as a Georgia landmark and the framed portraits hanging at the entrance paid tribute to the city’s founders. With its extended bar, and muted lighting, the century-old restaurant was the ideal place for after-work drinks or a cozy first date.
Shaking the water from her umbrella, she peered into the dining room, canvassing the area for her girlfriends. Every Friday, the women met for food, conversation and cocktails. Shaunice Berkley was a devoted mom to her preteen daughter, but she never missed an opportunity to hang out with her girls. Being an emergency room nurse was a stressful job,