he was visiting on her. Was this his payback for her attacking him yesterday? If so, sheâd pay it gladly. For her grandfather, she was prepared to beg. âMarc, I know this looks bad.â
âIt is bad.â
Jaclyn wished heâd stop interrupting her. âI know I should have been more engaged sooner. Iâm trying to fix my mistake. Will you help me?â
DeMarcus felt himself responding to her plea. He stared into Jaclynâs cinnamon eyes. She spoke so sweetly, but did she understand what she was asking him? He straightened away from the counter. âThe team is on a losing slide and two of the three partners want to throw away the season.â
âI know it wonât be easy. Will you help me?â
DeMarcusâs gaze dipped to the silver and black Monarchs lapel pin fastened to the collar of her cream suit jacket. Was it the same pin from yesterday or did she have one for each outfit?
He turned to check the chicken and chickpeas. He stirred the couscous. The pot spoon moved in time with his thoughts. There was too much to lose. âIâd have to make changes with the team and with the coaches. The team will resist it. The coaches will resent me. And Gerry and Bert will side with them.â
âBut Iâll side with you. You have my word.â
DeMarcus considered Jaclynâs earnest expression. She could make him a believer. Almost. âWhen? In another two years?â
She bit her plump lower lip. âBefore my grandfather died, he warned me Gerry and Bert donât have the same commitment to the franchise that he and I have. He said Iâd have to fight to save the team.â Jaclyn shook her head. âI never imagined theyâd try to take the Monarchs away from Brooklyn.â
DeMarcus was hesitant to end the heavy silence. âI canât guarantee you a winning season.â
âNo one could make a promise like that.â Jaclyn stepped closer to him. Her voice was urgent. âI know you have doubts about the team, about the coachesâabout me. But Iâm not giving up. I canât. Thereâs too much at stake.â
He sensed Jaclyn willing his gaze to meet hers. He raised his eyes. âI canât help you.â
âPlease, just think it over.â She hesitated. âYou donât have to answer tonight. You can call me tomorrow.â
The extra time must have cost her. Preseason was twelve days away. Sheâd asked so sweetly, still sheâd asked too much. DeMarcus didnât want to think it over. He wanted to walk away. The Monarchs were a disaster from the basketball court to the front office. It would take a miracle to realize a winning season.
He hated himself. Still he couldnât be the one to steal the hope from her bright eyes. âIâll think it over.â
Jaclynâs face glowed with pleasure and relief. DeMarcus stared at her radiance and lost his train of thought. He felt like a hero, like heâd made the winning basket at the buzzer.
She reached out and wrapped her long, slender hand around his forearm. âThank you.â
âDonât thank me. Iâve only agreed to think about it.â DeMarcus returned to the range, breaking the spell Jaclyn had cast over him. âDinnerâs ready. You and my father can wait in the dining room. Iâll bring the food out.â
âOh, butââ
He looked over his shoulder. âArenât you staying for dinner?â
Jaclynâs eyes shifted between him and the pots on the range. Her consternation disappeared and she smiled again. âIâd love to. Thank you.â
DeMarcus watched her walk out of the kitchen. His gaze slipped over the flow of her long, slender figure, the sway of her firm, rounded hips. Somehow he had to find a way to resist the Lady Assassinâs lure or risk losing his focus on what mattered most.
5
DeMarcus hadnât heard his father laugh this much in almost three years. Not