To Hodge?s eyes, in that one perfect moment in time, the superstar veneer had faded, leaving a flesh and blood woman standing in her place. The image had captivated Catherine for years, and for some reason, staring at too long always left her with a strange sense of melancholia.
It was to this image that she spoke, her voice a subdued whisper.
?Regardless of what anybody thinks, I?m glad you got to see me play at least once Goddess. Thanks.?
She turned her attention to the TV where the weatherman was droning on about something she wasn?t particularly interested in, and very slowly her eyes dropped closed.
The sound of a ringing phone shocked Dylan out of a particularly pleasant dream, and she awoke to find herself pinned beneath the heavy weight of a dog who was aiding the wake up process by enthusiastically licking her face. ?Brunhilde! God! Dog breath. Move it, you big oaf, before I turn you into dog puree!?
Voicing her displeasure with a loud groan, Brunhilde absented herself from the bed in a leisurely fashion, allowing Dylan to pick up the phone on its fifth ring.
?Yeah.?
Mac?s smug tones oozed through the phone. ?You owe me, Lambert. Big. Not candlelight dinner big. Not front row Pacer?s tickets big. Diamond watch big.?
Sitting up, Dylan dry scrubbed her face with her hand, lips curling in disgust at the dog saliva coating her palm. ?He go for it??
?Hook, line, and sinker, my friend. He wants to see her at pre-draft camp, though. Up close and personal, so to speak.?
?Why? Isn?t he afraid her gayness might rub off on him??
?Dylan?.?
?Mac, the man?s a bigot. You know it, and I know it, so let?s stop beating around the bush, alright??
?Hey, at least he?s willing to listen to reason. So now all we need to do is find out if she?s planning on going.?
Dylan sighed and shook her head. ?Fine. Book us a flight for tomorrow morning and we?ll find out.?
Mac?s sigh was louder. ?Dylan, you know I love you, but I do have a wife I haven?t seen in three weeks.?
?Make it three weeks and two days then, Mac. Your wheeling and dealing got us into this mess, you?re gonna help us get out of it.?
?But?.?
?Bye, Mac. See you tomorrow.?
As she hung up the phone, Dylan looked up at the ceiling, praying for strength. Then she pushed herself out of bed, scowled down at the two oh so innocent faces staring back up at her, and headed for the shower to begin what was left of the day.
The Rusty Bucket was a small, hole-in-the-wall tavern well known to the students of UCONN. Though it was a bit of a hike from the main campus, it had the reputation for being a little lax when it came to checking ID?s, and so was a hit with the underage crowd.
The interior was typical for a college dive. Dim and smoky, it had a long, badly abused bar, stools bleeding foam stuffing from mortal wounds, and a smattering of splintered and sticky tables set much too close together. The tiny dance floor was fronted by an even tinier stage from which local talent was invited to do its best to drive paying customers away.
This night, the local college sensation, Laying Rubber, was pounding out the atonal chords and drum riffs that passed for music among the eager young crowd. Their hit song ?My Girlfriend is a Blow-Up Doll? was a particular favorite, and they played it so often that the bartender seriously considered rupturing his eardrums with his own icepick just so he wouldn?t have to hear it anymore.
All in all, it was the perfect place for Hodge, her friends, and their fans to let their hair down, celebrate their victory, and break the half-year long alcohol ban imposed upon them by their coaches.
Which was probably why, though the evening was scarcely two hours young, most of the young women were three sheets to the wind, and showing no signs of stopping.
Hodge never had been much of a drinker. She didn?t hold her liquor well, and there were goddesses other than the porcelain one that she?d much rather worship. Still, she figured that it wasn?t every day that a gal got to sink the winning basket in a championship game, and since it had happened to her, she figured such an event deserved a celebration.
She didn?t really know when she?d switched from beer to rum, nor exactly when the rum suddenly gained the taste and consistency of a jello shooter, but sometimes it was just best to go with the flow and refrain from asking questions whose answers were better off unknown.
Looking up from her latest shot, she noticed, for the first time, that she was alone at the table. Her gaze swung ponderously toward the dance floor where Kellie, Tonya and the rest of her friends were pressed up against a number of willing males in a pre-mating ritual they called ?dancing?.
So intent was she in the drunken study of her friends that she nearly launched herself into orbit when a warm hand came down gently on her shoulder.
?Who? Wha—?? she blubbered, turning her head to the left in time to spy a particularly cute redhead staring down at her, a look of adoration in her eyes.
?Is this seat taken?? Redhead breathed.
Before Hodge could even work her brain around a particular answer, the young woman lowered herself down into the seat next to the basketball player and leaned forward so that their bodies were almost touching.
?Do I know you?? Hodge found herself asking a pair of very pert breasts. Normally, she wasn?t quite so rude, but her eyes seemed to have frozen in that particular spot. Maybe it was some strange side effect of the alcohol she?d been consuming. God only knew what they put in jello shooters anyway.
?Not yet, but you could if you wanted to.? The redhead flashed a sexy smile and slid a little closer. ?Great game by the way. I?ve never missed a game when you?re playing.?
Finally able to drag her gaze up to a pair of twinkling gray eyes, Hodge smiled. ?Basketball fan huh??
?Not particularly. More of a Cat Hodges fan.?
The sober part of her brain looked on in horror at the developing situation. Though hardly a prude, she?d also never been the type to outwardly flirt with women, especially in straight bars. Her libido, however, aided by the alcohol, was firmly in control of the rest of her. ?A fan, huh??
?Oh yes. A very?big?fan.? Hodge?s eyes nearly popped out of her head when the redhead put a hand on her knee and slowly drew it upward. ?Who would love the opportunity to pay you back for the hours of enjoyment you?ve given me.?
In a last ditch effort to bring her suddenly rebellious body back under control, Hodge pushed back and stood up, not even noticing as her chair toppled over backwards the moment it was free of her weight. ?Air!? she squeaked. ?I need air.?
With a tiger?s smile, the redhead stood and took Hodge?s hand. ?What a wonderful idea. Let?s take a walk.?
Hodge looked desperately over her shoulder, but her friends were too busy searching for tonsil scars on their latest dates-du-jour to pay her any mind at all.
Then the redhead slid a sly thumb across Hodge?s sensitive palm, and she pretty much stopped thinking for good.
Hodge wasn?t sure how they ended up back at her dorm room, but by then she?d given up asking those sorts of questions. Her body craved what the redhead was offering and gleefully pounded the little voice of Catholic guilt in her head into silent submission.
Managing to get her key into the lock on the third try, she pushed the door open and made a gallant gesture with her hand to allow her date to enter first. Then she dropped her ?Do Not Disturb, upon penalty of death? sign on the knob and closed the door.
Turning, she stripped off her jacket and let it drop into a heap on the floor. ?So Red, whaddya think??
?I think I should help you get the rest of those clothes off so I can see that delicious body up close and personally.?
?Sounds good to me.? Hodge had a stupid grin on her face as she walked to the bed.