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Dylan’s laughter richened as she closed the distance between them and gathered Cat into a warm hug before separating just enough to place a very sexy

kiss on her lover’s delicious lips. “Unfortunately, we do. Although…” Her eyes brightened as she bent slightly, and before Cat knew it, she was cradled in

two very powerful arms. “It occurs to me that I’ve neglected to teach you some very important pre-game rituals.”

Lesson time was on, and this particular student proved to be a very apt, and interested, pupil.

“Dylan?”

“Mmm?” Dylan didn’t look up as she fiddled with the new brace on her knee. Longer, tighter, and more complicated than the one she’d worn during the

volleyball tournament, she knew it would take a good bit of getting used to. To be truthful, though, the brace wasn’t what was keeping her eyes from her

partner. No, that would belong to the fact that if she looked up and saw Cat’s sleepy, languid form just barely hidden by the sheet she’d thrown over the

smaller woman, there would be more than five thousand pissed off fans and one outraged boss calling for her head, because they’d never make the

tournament.

God, what Cat did to her. There was something about the way they came together that made her feel in ways she’d never felt before. That thought

disturbed her on so many levels that she didn’t even know where to begin examining it. After a moment, she sighed, putting the problem on a back shelf in

her mind to be mulled over later, when the time was right. Finally she looked up, unable to stop the smile that spread, unbidden, across her face.

“You were asking?”

“Oh.” Cat blinked. “Yeah. I was wondering if that was one of your regular pre-game rituals.” She said it with a hint of a tease, but Dylan could tell the

question itself was a serious one.

“Sometimes,” was her honest reply.

“Oh.” After a minute, she smiled. “Well, I’ll definitely be looking forward to helping you out with those rituals in the future.”

Dylan paused briefly, nearly taken aback by Cat’s casual acceptance of her past. Then she grinned. “Me too.”

“Hello again everyone and welcome to the Lakeland Sports Pavilion, site of this year’s Children’s Cancer Initiative Pro-Am Three on Three tourney. Bob

Haskell and Jan Wainright here courtside to bring you wire to wire action as ten women’s professional basketball teams, and ten lucky fans, join together to

help make the dreams of sick children and their families come true.”

“It’s a beautiful day here in sunny California, Bob, and the stands are filled to capacity with cheering, excited fans. A perfect day for basketball, and a

perfect day to see Pallas Dylan Lambert try out her moves once again on the court.”

“Couldn’t agree more, Jan. So with that, why don’t we bring it down to courtside and begin with the introduction of the teams for this year’s tournament.”

Kim stood off to the side, watching as the players from the other teams got introduces. She couldn’t have kept the grin off her face if someone had

threatened her with bodily harm, and her cheek muscles were starting to ache something fierce. At least her stomach had calmed, thanks to the

consumption of enough Pepto to plug up an elephant.

She’d already met her own teammates. Well, perhaps “met” was a bit too strong a word to use. She’d accepted Dylan’s warm handshake, but didn’t dare

look her in the eyes, afraid she’d embarrass herself by fainting dead away. Touching the woman was bad enough.

Cat, on the other hand, was everything Kim thought she’d be and more. In a way, she felt vindicated. Her mother had always told her not to look up to

sports and entertainment stars. They were human too, after all, and most of them, or so her mother often remarked from behind the pages of the latest

People or Star, were rat bastards to boot.

But Cat had been every bit as kind and as sweet as Kim dreamed she’d be.

Besides, she had the cutest smile.

And the most awesome green eyes.

And…

Kim pinched herself once again, stopping the burgeoning fantasy dead in its tracks.

Well, at least she didn’t feel faint anymore.

Cat also stood along the sidelines, watching as the teams were introduced. The very best players from the teams elected to attend the event, and for Cat,

it almost as if it were her own All-Star game.

“Someday,” she whispered.

And then it was her turn.

The crowd was quiet, waiting. When the smooth voice sounded over the intercom system, Cat felt a familiar thrill rush through her veins.

“Introducing the point guard for the Birmingham Badgers and first round pick in this year’s WBL draft, number three, Catherine Hodges!”

She ran out onto the court to the enthusiastic cheers of five thousand people, smiling and waving to the crowd as she nodded to her opponents and settled

herself among them.

And then there was silence.

Absolute silence.

The expectation of the crowd was a palpable thing as necks craned, waiting for the one they had come here to see.

A low, reverberating bass hum flowed out into the stadium like an ocean wave washing onto the shore. The crowd gave an anticipatory cheer before falling

silent again. The bass hum continued, drawing out the moment until it became almost painful.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, after a four year absence from the court, it is my great pleasure to reintroduce to you, wearing her retired number 34, the Female

Player of the Century, the incomparable Pallas Dylan ‘The Goddess’ Lambert!!!”

As one, the crowd jumped to its feet, cheering so loudly that Cat thought her eardrums would burst. Still, she couldn’t help grinning as Dylan, black braid

streaming behind her, ran through the gauntlet of security and onto the court, waving to the crowd and sending them into fits of near apoplexy.

“God-dess! God-dess! God-dess! God-dess!”

Five thousand voices chanted, accompanied by five thousand pairs of feet stamping and five thousand sets of hands clapping. It was nearly enough to

rattle the fillings in Cat’s teeth, but she didn’t really notice, too busy clapping and stamping and chanting with the rest. Dylan gave her a little smirk before

shaking her head. Cat smirked right back at her and began chanting all the louder.

Red roses flew down from the stands like fragrant rain. Bending, Dylan picked up one bloom that had landed closest to her feet and, inhaling its pleasing

scent, lifted the rose and waved once again at the crowd, sending them into another frenzy that lasted for a good five minutes before finally beginning to

wind down.

When at last some semblance of normalcy returned to the stadium, the players shook hands and retired to their respective benches.

Dylan pulled the soaked towel away from her face and looked back at a staring Cat, one eyebrow arched. “Problem?”

Taking the response as somewhat of an invitation, Cat slid closer to Dylan while checking to make sure they were out of the earshot of anyone else. “Are

you…feeling okay?”

“Right as a trivet, as my grandmother used to say. Why?”

Cat shrugged a little, then took another quick look around. “Oh, I dunno. It’s….” Breaking off, she sighed in frustration, and tried again. “Your game. It

seems a little…off?”

“Off?” Dylan asked, straightening on the bench. “Off how?”

Cat thought for a moment. “Well, maybe not ‘off’ off. Maybe just…flat?”

“Flat.”

Cat was finding it hard to think with those piercing eyes all but pinning her to the bench. “Yeah. You know. Not….” She sighed again, shaking her head.