In the Red Zone

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Authors: Crista McHugh
pleasure?”
    She responded with a squinty-eyed glare.
    He laughed it off. “Hey, you can’t blame me for trying. I’d have to be gay not to be attracted to a woman like you.”
    “Oh, really?”
    “Absolutely.” He gave her a quick once-over, admiring every inch of her. “You’re smart, kind, generous, and so friggin’ sexy that I have to remind myself every few minutes to be a gentleman in your presence.”
    “Who says I want a gentleman?” she teased.
    All the blood rushed to his dick. Now it was his turn to squirm uncomfortably in his seat. “So you’re giving me permission to turn this into a real date?”
    “We’ll see, Romeo.”
    He grinned. A challenge had just been laid down. One he gladly accepted. She’d left the door open just wide enough to allow him to charm her off her feet. Now to put his plan into action.
    ***
    Kiana stopped short when Frank pointed to the leather-covered, courtside chairs between the benches. “Holy shit, Frank. Those are the Hollywood seats.”
    “I know,” he replied with the nonchalant ease of someone who routinely got the best of everything.
    “But how did you get them?”
    “You’re not the only person who knows people in high places.” He gave her a wink and took her hand. “Now let’s sit down and enjoy the game.”
    Her head swam from the extravagance of it, but Frank had no problem flagging a member of the dance team and asking for a Coke. The request jerked her from her stunned silence. “She’s a cheerleader, not a waitress.”
    “One of the perks of these seats is that you get a member of the dance team to bring you whatever you want.” He shrugged. “I figured a soda was safer than a beer. Do you want anything?”
    When the dancer returned, she gave Frank a smile that said she would be more than happy to bring him whatever he wanted.
    A wave of jealousy rose within Kiana, and she looped her arm through his and glared at the girl.
    Frank chuckled. “Making a claim on me?”
    “More like telling her not to offer you a lap dance while you’re the celebrity face of my foundation.” True, their relationship—if she dared to call it that—was nothing more than a farce designed to drum up publicity for her fundraising gala. But she couldn’t ignore the trickle of heat that made its way down her spine and settled in the pit of her stomach.
    As the game got under way, though, the unease vanished. Kiana became swept up in the action long enough to forget that this was a fake date. The conversation flowed so easily between her and Frank, it was as though they were old friends. For a football player, he knew as much about basketball as she did—maybe more.
    Near the end of the second quarter, a member of the opposing team elbowed a player going up for a rebound, and the ref failed to call the foul. Kiana jumped to her feet and shouted, “How could you have missed that?”
    A strong hand took hers and pulled her back into her seat. “They don’t need you on the court.”
    “But that ref is blind.” She shook free of him, her body twitching with pent-up rage. “How the hell could he let that slide?”
    Frank’s blue eyes twinkled, and he grinned. “Who’s the hothead now?”
    “But you saw that, right?”
    “Yeah, but refs make bad calls all the time. Arguing with them only makes things worse. Trust me—I know.”
    She crossed her arms and slumped back in her seat. There was no way she was going to win this argument with him staying as cool as a cucumber.
    The second quarter ended, and just before the team went to the lockers for halftime, one of the players nodded to Frank. “’Sup, Kelly?”
    “Just watching you guys play like girls, Dougie,” he teased.
    Kiana’s jaw dropped for the second time that evening. It was one thing to have a conversation with a member of your favorite team, but to crack a joke at his expense?
    Doug laughed it off and went into the locker room.
    Once he left, Kiana gave Frank a light smack in the center of his

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