LITMIR.BIZ

      D’marcus tossed aside a file he’d been working on and glanced over at the clock. It was after five already. Where had the day gone? He heard the growling of his stomach and immediately thought of all that food Opal had named when she’d offered to bring him a plate from her family gathering. Maybe he should have accepted her offer. But a part of him felt he’d done the right thing by not doing so.

      He leaned back in his chair as he picked up the framed photograph of the young woman. The woman who was to have been his wife. The pain of that loss was still with him even after six years. Tonya had been the one thing he had wanted in his life, the person he had loved with all his heart, and he’d lost her in one afternoon, two weeks before they were to marry. What really had torn him in two was finding out that at her death she had been a month pregnant with their child. He hadn’t just lost the woman he’d loved but also the baby that would have been theirs.

      He placed the photograph back on his desk and walked over to the window. It had been a beautiful day, warm for the first week in October, although the forecasters were predicting a cold front sometime next week.

      His gaze swept the empty parking lot where Opal’s car had been parked earlier. A part of him regretted his rude behavior to her. That same part knew there was no excuse for it. But another part, that part of him that had been protecting himself for the past six years, refused to agree. It believed there was an excuse. Opal Lockhart was a woman who could wiggle her way inside a man’s head and heart if he wasn’t careful. She was the first woman since Tonya who had ignited even a spark inside him. What was so sad was that he hadn’t been trying for that spark.

      She had worked late one night, her first week with Sports Unlimited, and he had left the office for the day. He had gotten as far as the third floor when he remembered that he had left behind a file he needed to take home to review. He had returned and walked into her office area to find her standing at the window in deep thought. Because of the long day, she had taken off her shoes and jacket, and the fashionable scarf was no longer around her neck. He had stood studying her. Without knowing he was there, she released her bun and ran her hands through her shoulder-length hair. Without the jacket he’d seen her small waist and the delicate curves of her hips. She had looked beguiling, sexy, a total turn-on.

      For the first time in six years, he had felt long-buried sensations. Sexual chemistry to a degree he’d never known before had nearly driven him to take her in his arms. Instead, he had regained control of his senses and left. But from that evening forward, he’d made it a point to make sure he placed distance between himself and his administrative assistant, and he took on a gruff demeanor to make sure things stayed distant. The last thing he needed was for the two of them to get too friendly with each other. The only woman he could ever possibly love had died six years ago.

      Moving away from the window, he returned to the chair behind his desk. He would work for another hour or so before he called it a day. On the way home he would stop at one of the fast-food places and grab a sandwich. Usually he didn’t stay all day at the office on the weekend, but, after the press conference, he had decided to get a headstart on next week’s work.

      He cringed in anger every time he thought about Dashuan Kennedy and his poor attitude. Players like him gave any game a bad name. He definitely wasn’t any kid’s role model. In fact, as far as D’marcus was concerned, whether they won or lost, the Chargers probably would be better off without Dashaun. There was no doubt Kennedy was a gifted young basketball player—but he was one who had some kind of a chip on his shoulder. D’marcus felt whatever issues Kennedy was having extended beyond his bad-ass ego problem. Frankly, D’marcus was ready to trade him, but the other two owners saw Dashuan as their hope for the coming season.

      He felt a strange prickling sensation and looked up, surprised to see Opal standing in the doorway of his office. Before he could open his mouth to ask what she was doing there, she entered and placed a take-out box in front of him.

      “I know what you said, but I couldn’t see myself letting you starve. If you don’t want to eat it you can trash it,” she said, before turning to leave.

      “Why?” he asked before she had reached the door. When she turned around, his eyes flicked over her with a cool expression. “Why did you come back? With the food?”

      She tilted her chin and he saw a stubborn glint to it when she said, “Because I refuse to become a grouch like you. Life has been too good to me this year for me to do that.”

      “Then, I suggest you count your blessings, Ms. Lockhart.”

      To his surprise, she smiled. “Trust me, Mr. Armstrong, I do. Maybe it’s time for you to start counting yours.”

      His eyes narrowed at the boldness of her statement and before he could give her a reply, she was gone.