Dolce (Love at Center Court #2) Read Online Free PDF Page A

to this guy, to smile and stare at his gorgeous face. After all, he seemed like an ally yesterday when he mentioned Sonny being an intern once. But he had to go with the brotherly thing, which was a harsh reminder I would never be who he really wanted to touch on her lower back.
    “Listen,” Steele called out as he hustled after me. He slipped into the seat next to me at my table. “I don’t know what I said wrong, but I thought we could be civil. You saw Sonny take me down, and the whole atmosphere at the studio.”
    “And by that, you mean the way he demoralizes me on the job?”
    I was seething mad he knew, but titillated that he was across from me. I was embarrassed he knew, but turned on with him this close.
    All in all, I was confused as all get-out.
    This man was doing weird things to me. I’d admired him from afar on the court all last year. His prowess with a basketball made my heart stutter.
    I was familiar with several sides of him. The determined look he got when he drove the ball up the court. His boyish grin after making a basket. His freshly showered look when he left the field house—I’d caught it once or twice.
    Yet in his presence, I didn’t know who I was or what I wanted. In twenty-four hours, he’d played with my mind in so many ways, I couldn’t even count. The night before in the studio, I’d desperately wanted to tell him I was a fan or whatever groupies do, but I let the opportunity pass. Didn’t they carry permanent markers and ask for their boobs to be signed?
    Now Blane was seated across from me and wanted to have a serious chat. Who was this guy?
    And who am I? I barely recognize myself since yesterday.
    “I was referring to the dare. But seriously, why do you call him Mr. Boots?” he asked, interrupting my inner dialogue and setting his water down on the table.
    Shrugging, I said, “We don’t really even know each other, so it’s not something I feel like going into. It’s just that I need that internship, and Sonny has a lot of pull.”
    The truth was, I needed to set a boundary with this guy, establish control, do something proactive for my mental state. Determined not to care that there was a sexy-as-fuck male across the table from me anymore, I pinched off a corner of my scone and popped it into my mouth.
    “We could get to know each other. Apparently I now have a lot of time on my hands.” Blane shrugged, giving me the boyish grin I’d seen so many times from afar.
    Up close, it was so much better. Brighter. Blinding. Lethal.
    “As friends. Brotherly, right?” I said, tossing his words back at him.
    He cleared his throat. “Uh, yeah. Is that okay? I don’t know if you heard, but I’ve sworn off everything and everyone else.”
    I wanted to be mean in a vicious women’s-lib way, to let him know that I wasn’t going to be some chubby replacement for his usual female conquests while he served his celibate sentence.
    Instead, I replied, “It’s okay, but I really have to finish this paper. Maybe another time?”
    “Cool. I’ll be seeing you, Cate,” Blane said, shortening my name in his own way, sexing it up. He winked at me as he stood up and walked away.
    He probably didn’t even realize he’d added that wink. Flirting came that naturally to him.

Blane
    I t was eight o’clock Sunday morning and I was on the gun, my body covered in sweat, my arms aching from shooting jumpers. The balls flew at me in a continuous loop, one after the other, and I stroked them into the net.
    “Impressive,” a deep voice shouted over the gun. “I haven’t seen you miss one yet. Looks like that vow’s doing you wonders.”
    I couldn’t stop and look because I would get hit in the head with a ball, so I shouted back, “Nah, I’m just this good.”
    My teammate Maurice Dawson crossed in front of me and flicked the switch, shutting the machine down. “How ’bout a little one-on-one?”
    I crossed over to the bench and toweled off, grabbed my water, and took a swig while