Game, Set, Match (A Humorous Contemporary Romance) (Love Match) (8 page)

When he didn’t respond, she
peeked a glance at him. He looked so much like Sabrina with his dark eyes and olive tone to his skin, but he was nothing like her in temperament. He had an almost manic penchant for keeping commitments and promises. Izzy had a feeling she’d be paying a therapist to delve into that sometime in the future.

Her mother’s voice rang in her head.
 
Better out than in. 
“I know you said you didn’t want her to visit, but I’ve been thinking, maybe it might be fun?”

He shrugged. “It’ll be okay, I guess.”

Not to be thwarted, she tried again. “Remember that trip to Mexico and the insane donkey ride? I swear, I’ll never get on one again.”

He cracked a smile, but still didn’t say anything. Izzy wasn’t sure if it was standard male silence or if he really didn’t want to see Sabrina. “I know
it’s tough having her leave, but we can always enjoy when she’s here right?”

When did you become such a good liar?
 Izzy hadn’t enjoyed Sabrina’s infrequent visits since Nick’s trip to the hospital at age six for an appendectomy. Izzy had been frantic, but Sabrina never made it back home. When Izzy had brought it up on her next visit, Sabrina said what she always said, “You took care of it didn’t you?”

That had been Izzy’s last straw. She knew their arrangement was unique, with Izzy having legal custody of Nick, and Sabrina having an all access pass. Izzy was also careful never to say anything negative about Sabrina, but she had a feeling Nick knew how she really felt.

He stared out the window, watching the red lights of traffic.

“So, I’m going to petition the Judge again.”

That got his attention. “Oh, yeah?”

“Yes. I told you I wouldn’t give up.”

“Yeah, I know. But what makes you think the judge will grant it this time? Which excuse of his no longer matters?”

She hated it that he was so astute. “Well, the gallery opening for one. I’ve got a
 
Sports Illustrated
 shoot coming up too. That means a great income. Something more stable than a struggling studio. That’ll make a difference.”

He shrugged. “Not all the difference. Besides, you’ve done okay.”

No, not all the difference. She still wasn’t married; curse her luck for having a traditional Judge. And the primary reason, she was still black, and Nick was still white.

He glanced at her. “It’s not your fault. You shouldn’t have to marry some douche just to adopt me.”

“Watch your language.” She slid him a look. She knew what he wasn’t saying. She shouldn’t have to be white to adopt him. She sighed. “Maybe it won’t matter this time around.”

At the sullen look on Nick’s face, Izzy opted for a change in topic. “So this thing with Samantha, you really like her?”

Nick’s expression was still sullen, but he answered the question. “Yeah, she’s okay.”

“Okay? I caught you guys necking like…like…well, like teenagers, and you only think she’s okay?”

Sullen expression gone, he now looked half mortified, half amused. “Geez, Mom, do you have to ask that? Who the heck says necking? What does that even mean?”

She laughed. “Well, yes, I do
 
have
 to ask that. I’m your mom. And okay, you do have a point about the use of the word necking. C’mon. Inquiring minds want to know.”

He shrugged. “Didn’t we already cover this the other day?”

“Yeah, guess we did.” She coughed behind her hand to mask the bark of laughter when the tips of his ears turned red.

“Well, she’s the coolest girl in school. And she’s fun. And she’s Coach’s daughter.” He turned to stare out the window. “All the guys say I’m lucky she even talks to me.”

Something about the way he said it pulled on Izzy’s heart. She knew what it was like to be in the shadow of the girl everyone thought was perfect. She didn’t want him 
hanging out
 with Samantha Tisdale for the wrong reasons. “Well, do 
you
 think you’re lucky to be 
hanging out
?”

Another shrug.
“Yeah, she’s cool.”

Ah, to be the mother of a teenage boy.

Izzy mimicked his shrug. “Fair enough. Just keep it in mind. You don’t want to be a follo—”

He rolled his eyes again and finished the statement for her. “Follower, I know. I want to be a leader.”

Izzy feared she’d gone into Grandma territory. She was always trying to find that balance, but as he got older, she never seemed to find it.

He grinned at her, and Izzy squirmed behind the wheel, aware she was about to get a cross examination. “Can we stop talking about my personal life and talk about yours?”

Izzy laughed. “No! We cannot talk about my personal life.”

“What about that pilot guy, Mick?”

“Mike, his name is Mike, and we were never dating.”

Nick pretended he hadn’t known. “Are you sure? Because he showed up at the Arts and Tarts the other night and spent a whole hour trying to butter me up. He could be the one, Mom.”

Izzy laughed. “Doubtful.” She eased off the freeway. “Besides, he’s a potential client.”

Nick sobered again, his face a mask Izzy hadn’t seen on him too often. He looked too adult and world weary when he said, “You know, Mom, you don’t have to avoid guys
‘cause of me. I want you to go out and do stuff besides work.”

A light prickling behind her eyelid signaled oncoming tears but she blinked them back. When had her baby become a man? She took his hand and squeezed. “Nick, me not dating seriously isn’t because of you. It’s because of me. I’ve chosen to focus on my career that’s all.”

He squeezed back. “If that’s how you want to play it. But you should go out more, Mom.” The devilish smile that would likely melt many a female heart as he got older was back. “With someone besides Simple Simon.”

Izzy’s laughter blurted out. Where did he and Jessica come up with this stuff? “Oh, you’d like that wouldn’t you, Nick, my man.”

Then she remembered she was supposed to be the parent. “And don’t disrespect him. He’s a very nice man.”

Her impression of Simon’s phrase whenever he saw Nick was spot on, and her son burst into a fit of giggles, once again looking like the child he was. “You make him sound like a librarian.” He thought for a moment then added, “Maybe Jessica knows someone.”

Izzy cringed then shook her head. The only men she ever saw Jessica with had more skin tattooed than not, and more piercings than she cared to think about. She shook her head. “I will not have my assistant or my son fix me up. I’m not that sad and pathetic yet.”

“Well, you just let me know when you are. Half my friends have older brothers who think you’re a total MILF.” He shrugged. “I think it’s gross, but one of them might—”

Izzy ignored the reference to older brothers and ran through the letters in her head, but couldn’t figure out what MILF meant. “Dare I ask, what is a MILF?”

Nick shook his head. “Geez, Mom, don’t you know anything? It stands for Mom I’d Like to—” A look of alarm crossed his features. He blushed, and continued, “Follow Around?”

She pulled into their driveway at the end of the cul-de-sac and shot him a glare. Somehow she didn’t think that’s what the F stood for. “Language.”

“What? I didn’t swear.”

Izzy raised an eyebrow. “Sometimes it’s the intent.”

He muttered something that sounded like “Yeah, yeah,” as he climbed out of the car.

As she followed him in, she wondered if she really had become so pathetic her son needed to fix her up. Catching a glimpse of her makeup-less face in the hallway mirror, she had a feeling the answer was yes. Before she could close the door behind her, her purse started to ring. The theme song from 
Buffy the Vampire Slayer
 filled the hallway. Izzy made a mental note to add Jessica to the list of people not allowed anywhere near her phone.

She juggled a camera bag as
she dug into her purse. When she retrieved the phone, it took her a minute to realize it wasn’t a call coming in but a text message. Once through the door, she used her foot to kick it closed and placed both bags on the floor. Her phone continued to incessantly sing 
Buffy
 at her until she tapped the message icon. She really had to figure out all the features on the blasted iPhone.

Izzy didn’t recognize the number, but she instantly knew who sent the message.
 
It’s rude to hang up on someone, you know. Didn’t your mother teach you better?

She absently wondered if she needed to change her number as she typed out a message.
 
What are you going to do, spank me?

It wasn’t until after she hit send and mumbled to
herself, “That’ll teach him,” that she realized the suggestive nature of her message. Or rather, how he might interpret it.

As if on cue, the sounds of
 
Buffy
 once again filled the hallway, and Izzy half expected vampires to waltz around the corner. She angrily pushed on the text icon. 
Is that an invitation?

The rush of liquid heat to her core as she stared at his message didn’t bode well for her vow to ignore him. Playing games with Jason Cartwright would only get her hurt.

****

Izzy Connors was dangerous to Jason’s focus and recovery. He had to stop thinking about her and stay on track. He’d already nearly severed a finger fiddling with one of the ball machines and almost dislocated his shoulder when lifting too much weight. He squeezed his eyes shut as he completed the last rep of leg lifts. Izzy’s last message to him played over and over in his head. Had she been flirting? Did she have a secret spanking fetish? If it was anyone else, he’d know the answer, but she was different.

Not paying attention, he let the weights slam down too quickly. His knee shot bursts of pain up and down his leg at the shock. He let out a curse as he rubbed the throb until it abated. It hurt, but still felt better than the disaster match the day before. The aches in his muscles and the throbbing in his knee were his body’s way of telling him he’d overdone it the past few days. But after seeing Izzy again, he’d needed to work off some of the tension. It wasn’t everyday he ran into the one woman he’d let himself love.

The Izzy he remembered had been inquisitive and sweet. But the woman he’d seen the other day was neither of those.
More like closed off and cautious. And dating that robot boyfriend of hers—Jason couldn’t believe she was happy with him. 
Maybe she is. 
He quelled the burst of envy in his heart. He didn’t have any right to it. She wasn’t his.

He moved over to the treadmill and entered in the appropriate workout selection. All the while he tried to ignore the guilt he felt about the last time he’d seen Izzy. He should have called her.
Had the opportunity to more than once. He should have gone back to see her. He should never have gone anywhere near Sabrina Reems. Should should should. He couldn’t change any of that now.

He could have insisted on seeing her when he went back to campus, but he’d taken the easy route, Sabrina. He hadn’t even thought about Sabrina in years, but seeing Izzy brought back those memories. Whatever had possessed him to choose Sabrina over Izzy all those years ago was long gone. He prayed he’d exorcised the desperate need for self
-
destruction.

For an hour, as he ran, the steady 
whir whir whir
 of the treadmill soothed his mind. One step in front of the other. He could do that.

“Anything you want to tell me?” His manager’s steady voice came from behind him, startling him into tripping.

Not sure how to respond, he kept it simple. “Hi, Aaron.”
 Does he know?
 Adrenaline poured through his body, urging him to run and release some of it. But he didn’t. He kept his pace and schooled his expression. Aaron either wanted to discuss Michaels or Jason’s poor showing in practice. Either way, he wasn’t in the mood to rehash.

Too bad, because his manager wasn’t in the mood to stay quiet.
Aaron pulled out Jason’s exercise report. “Is that all you have to say?”

Shit.

“I wish I knew what you wanted to hear, man.” His heart rate monitor beeped at him, and he slowed his pace.

“How about the truth?
How bad is your knee, Jason?”

“Not that bad. I’m recovering.”

“Is that why Brian recommends a full physical analysis in two months before he clears you to play?”

Shit
. Brian had no right. “What the hell does he know? The guy’s a blowhard. I have no intention of waiting two months before I get the all clear.”

“Damn it,
Jase. Do I need to remind you that you selected this trainer? Plucked him out of obscurity from your alma mater? You’re not going to find anyone this good in such a short timeframe.” He slapped the folder on the neighboring treadmill. “This is the kind of shit you’re supposed to tell me about. You can’t keep looking me in the eye and telling me you’re fine. If your knee’s done, then I need to know that so I can restructure your career.”