matched the exotic briefcase. His mind floated back to the cherry-stained mouth while he discreetly assessed that same mouth now. The tastefully applied gloss made it appear even more lush. It came to him that he had to have this woman or die trying.
McNair finished reading the statement then set it down. “This is fine, Ms. Blake. I’ve talked to Coach Walker and he’s agreed not to initiate any court action as long as Marquise is suspended and takes anger management classes.”
JT sensed Marquise tighten beside her, so she placed a warning hand on his arm. “Just hold up. How many games?”
“Ten,” Reese stated, entering the conversation for the first time.
Marquise exploded to his feet. “That’s bullshit!”
JT snapped, “Sit down!” Her flashing eyes dared him to keep standing.
For a moment they battled silently, then he sat. “I’m not doing ten games. Y’all can kiss my ass.”
“You don’t have a choice,” Reese replied tightly. “The new commissioner has zero tolerance for violence. First-time offenders, ten games. Second time, twenty.”
“This is my livelihood!” Quise yelled angrily.
“You should have thought about that before you laid hands on your coach,” Reese tossed out, then sat back and folded his arms.
Quise shot him a look of fury.
JT offered, “How about we cut it to seven and call it a deal?”
Reese shook his head. “No deal on this one, Ms. Blake. Ten games or your client can take his chances with Walker’s lawyers and a jury.”
“You’re really going to play hardball?” she asked, meeting the eyes of the man who a couple of nights ago had been someone else, or so she thought.
“On instances like this, always.”
She knew she didn’t have a leg to stand on. Were this Quise’s first run-in, she might have some wiggle room, but because of his past sins, there was no getting around the suspension. Finally turning away from Reese, she said to Quise. “Take the deal.”
“But—”
“Take it.” Marquise wouldn’t fare well if this went to trial. Trouble-causing highly paid athletes weren’t well liked by Mr. and Mrs. Middle America. For choking his coach, a jury would send a man like Marquise Chambers to the Bastille given half a chance.
Quise wasn’t happy. “You’re my agent, Lady B. Fix this.”
She gave him a look but didn’t respond verbally because she’d told him last night there’d be consequences to pay, and that more than likely his past behavior would earn him way more than a quick slap on the wrist. There’d be no fixing this. “Commissioner McNair, do you have something drawn up that we can sign, or will you be faxing it to me later?”
Reese took a document out of the folder lying in front of him and held it out for her. When she took it, their hands accidentally brushed and the spark affected them both, though neither gave any indication that it had.
He and the others waited silently while she read. Reese’s assumption that he’d have some explaining to do when they met again was more accurate than he could have imagined. Meeting her this way was going to make it extremely difficult to reconnect.
Purposefully ignoring Reese, JT looked up into the commissioner’s face. “This is fine.” She turned to Quise and handed him a pen. His eyes battled hers for a long moment, then he took the pen. Snarling, he signed in the places the lawyers indicated, then angrily pushed the agreement back across the table. “Bet Bobby G3 woulda done something to fix this.”
She held onto her temper. She’d never called out a client in front of the enemy, but Quise was tap dancing on her last nerve by bringing Bobby Garrett’s name into this mess. “Are we done here, gentlemen?”
They nodded.
Still avoiding Reese’s eyes, JT gathered up her personal effects and rose to her feet. She nodded at her opponents. “Thank you.”
McNair said, “Nice meeting you, Ms. Blake.”
“Same here.” Only then did she face Reese. “Nice meeting
McNair finished reading the statement then set it down. “This is fine, Ms. Blake. I’ve talked to Coach Walker and he’s agreed not to initiate any court action as long as Marquise is suspended and takes anger management classes.”
JT sensed Marquise tighten beside her, so she placed a warning hand on his arm. “Just hold up. How many games?”
“Ten,” Reese stated, entering the conversation for the first time.
Marquise exploded to his feet. “That’s bullshit!”
JT snapped, “Sit down!” Her flashing eyes dared him to keep standing.
For a moment they battled silently, then he sat. “I’m not doing ten games. Y’all can kiss my ass.”
“You don’t have a choice,” Reese replied tightly. “The new commissioner has zero tolerance for violence. First-time offenders, ten games. Second time, twenty.”
“This is my livelihood!” Quise yelled angrily.
“You should have thought about that before you laid hands on your coach,” Reese tossed out, then sat back and folded his arms.
Quise shot him a look of fury.
JT offered, “How about we cut it to seven and call it a deal?”
Reese shook his head. “No deal on this one, Ms. Blake. Ten games or your client can take his chances with Walker’s lawyers and a jury.”
“You’re really going to play hardball?” she asked, meeting the eyes of the man who a couple of nights ago had been someone else, or so she thought.
“On instances like this, always.”
She knew she didn’t have a leg to stand on. Were this Quise’s first run-in, she might have some wiggle room, but because of his past sins, there was no getting around the suspension. Finally turning away from Reese, she said to Quise. “Take the deal.”
“But—”
“Take it.” Marquise wouldn’t fare well if this went to trial. Trouble-causing highly paid athletes weren’t well liked by Mr. and Mrs. Middle America. For choking his coach, a jury would send a man like Marquise Chambers to the Bastille given half a chance.
Quise wasn’t happy. “You’re my agent, Lady B. Fix this.”
She gave him a look but didn’t respond verbally because she’d told him last night there’d be consequences to pay, and that more than likely his past behavior would earn him way more than a quick slap on the wrist. There’d be no fixing this. “Commissioner McNair, do you have something drawn up that we can sign, or will you be faxing it to me later?”
Reese took a document out of the folder lying in front of him and held it out for her. When she took it, their hands accidentally brushed and the spark affected them both, though neither gave any indication that it had.
He and the others waited silently while she read. Reese’s assumption that he’d have some explaining to do when they met again was more accurate than he could have imagined. Meeting her this way was going to make it extremely difficult to reconnect.
Purposefully ignoring Reese, JT looked up into the commissioner’s face. “This is fine.” She turned to Quise and handed him a pen. His eyes battled hers for a long moment, then he took the pen. Snarling, he signed in the places the lawyers indicated, then angrily pushed the agreement back across the table. “Bet Bobby G3 woulda done something to fix this.”
She held onto her temper. She’d never called out a client in front of the enemy, but Quise was tap dancing on her last nerve by bringing Bobby Garrett’s name into this mess. “Are we done here, gentlemen?”
They nodded.
Still avoiding Reese’s eyes, JT gathered up her personal effects and rose to her feet. She nodded at her opponents. “Thank you.”
McNair said, “Nice meeting you, Ms. Blake.”
“Same here.” Only then did she face Reese. “Nice meeting
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