Synithia Williams - Overtime For Love

She poked her head into Jerry’s office, which was next to hers, but he wasn’t there. A quick check with the admin assistant and she learned Jerry was gone for the day.

“He did tell me to thank you for handling Ms. Parker,” Martha said.

Angela bit back her annoyance and took a deep breath. At least Ms. Parker had been reprimanded, and hopefully wouldn’t neglect her duties next month. Angela went back to her office, powered down her computer and scooped up her purse. Ten after five. Maybe enough time to hit the road and get to Cory before the activity center charged her for being late picking him up. It was his first week of basketball camp. She didn’t want to be late the first day and start off as “that parent.”

Somebody in heaven liked her because Angela arrived at the activity center at exactly five-twenty-nine. She jumped out of the car and raced into the building. The young guy working the front desk smiled and didn’t charge her for being two minutes late by their clock, then directed her to the gym, where Cory was waiting. She thanked the guy, glanced at her watch and hurried to the gym. Okay, pick up Cory, drive like a maniac back home, thank Nate again for being an awesome neighbor and get to second job.

Angela grabbed the door to the gym and pulled. Someone shoved the door from the other side and she stumbled back. Her heels slipped on the floor. A large hand wrapped around her wrist and prevented her from impersonating a flipped pancake.

Awareness prickled up her arm from the strong hand around her wrist. Her gaze lifted all the way up to a pair of dark, sexy eyes. Her heart stumbled worse than her feet and air sprinted from her lungs like an Olympic runner. Isaiah Reynolds.

He was wearing a sleeveless red athletic shirt, so the lean muscles of his arms were bared. Basketball shorts partially covered sculpted legs long enough to make a redwood jealous. If a tree could get jealous. The spice of sweat and his own masculine scent swirled through her senses and made her knees wobbly. Recognition brightened his warm brown eyes. For a split second, he seemed happy and surprised, then his brow furrowed and his lips, the lower one fuller and so damn kissable, twisted into a frown.

“Angel?” he said in a tone that was as smooth as silk and ran over her just as seductively.

Angela swallowed hard and tried to ignore the heat spreading through her body. She wanted him, which meant she had to avoid him at all costs for the remainder of the camp. Otherwise he’d have her with a crook of his finger and a smile.

* * *

Isaiah’s fingers tightened around Angel’s small wrist. He’d recognized her instantly. Gone were the sparkly white angel wings she wore behind the bar at Sweethearts. A tasteful gray button-up shirt replaced the white tank top he’d last seen her in, although the garment still hugged her perfectly rounded breasts. A fitted black pencil skirt silhouetted full hips instead of tight black pants. No glittery makeup enhanced her eyes, which were so brown and deep he could forget the world while holding her gaze. Perfect lips parted and the sweet scent of flowers surrounded him.

He wanted to draw her closer. He’d thought of her constantly after their conversation at the bar that night. The excitement of literally bumping into her again nearly made him step closer, breathe in her soft perfume, get lost in her eyes. Why was she here?

“Angela.” Her low seductive voice broke through his daze.

He blinked. “What?”

“My name is Angela. Not Angel.”

Of course. Angel suited her better, though. Her lips curved into a hesitant smile that snatched his ability to think. To breathe. Talk.

Man, he hated this. Seeing her made him feel like the awkward, tongue-tied teenager he used to be. The quiet kid who didn’t know how to talk to girls. Put a basketball in his hands, get him in front of a crowd of reporters discussing his latest game or business venture, and he knew exactly what to do. Have a pretty woman he liked smile at him and his voice box disconnected from his brain.

She was really here. And now she was frowning. Which meant he was just staring instead of talking.

Isaiah let go of her wrist and took a step back. “What are you doing here?” Props to him for keeping his voice normal. Maturity had at least given him the ability to hide his discomfort better.

“Aunt Angela, you know Isaiah Reynolds?” Cory, the boy Isaiah had quickly noticed during the camp, spoke up. Cory had been quiet, a bit sullen, especially when the girls in the camp were around, but he was great with a basketball. Reminded Isaiah a little of himself. Maybe more than a little.

Isaiah looked at the young boy, then back at Angel... Angela. “This is your aunt?”

Cory nodded. Angela reached for the silver charm on her necklace and played with it. Her slim fingers brushed the smooth caramel skin of her chest exposed by the V-neck opening of her blouse. That night in the bar, the lace edges of a black bra peaked out from the scooped neckline of her tank top. Was she wearing a lace bra today? He was tall enough. All he’d have to do is lean a little toward her and he’d be able to see down that V...

Isaiah took another step back. What the hell? You’re not Cory’s age. No staring down her blouse.

“I am,” Angela said.

An uneasy thought crept into Isaiah’s brain. People went to great lengths just to be close to a professional athlete. He may still occasionally get tongue-tied around a beautiful woman, but he wasn’t stupid.

“Did you—did you sign him up...because of me?”

Her eyes widened for a second. Her hand dropped from the necklace. She slowly turned to Cory. “Can you go wait for me by the car?”

Cory raised an eyebrow. “What for?”

“Because I said so. Now go to the car.”

Cory let out a heavy sigh. “Fine. ’Bye, Mr. Reynolds.” He waved, then shuffled away, mumbling something under his breath.

Angela glared at her nephew’s back. When he was out of earshot, she turned her sharp gaze Isaiah’s way. She stepped to the side of the door of the gym and he followed so they wouldn’t be so out in the open.

“Did you really just accuse me of bringing Cory here because of you?”

The disbelief in her tone sounded sincere. But he’d been in the league for seven years and he’d heard all kinds of “sincerity” from exuberant fans before.

“It’s a fair question.”

“It’s an insulting question.” Anger sparked in her brown eyes. “And a very egotistical one.”

“Egotistical?”

She crossed her arms over her chest. “Why in the world would I stalk you? Much less, use my nephew to do that?”

“I once had a man break his son’s arm so I would come visit him in the hospital. I’ve had people do crazy things to try and get close to me.”

That doused the flames in her eyes. “Seriously? Someone would do something like that to his own son?”

He wished it wasn’t true. For every hundred normal fans there was always one crazy one that took things too far. “Fans can be crazy.”

The tightness of her crossed arms loosened and the tension in her stance relaxed. “Look, the organization I work for has five slots for this camp every year. One of the kids we chose had to back out at the last minute. My boss offered the space to Cory.”

He cocked his head to the side. “Sweethearts?” he asked skeptically.

She shook her head and the corners of her lips rose slightly. “That’s my part-time job. I work full-time in an office that manages court-appointed advocates for kids.”

That explained her business attire today, and Keri had told him they’d had one substitution from the advocacy center. Still. “Will you always be picking up Cory, or will his parents...?”