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her face and groaned. That last game was a bit closer than she would have liked. Still, if she was honest with herself, she wasn’t really all that surprised,

given that the guard she faced was none other than Shauna Keeps, hands down the best in the league.

After a friendly greeting, Cat found herself taken to school, and right properly at that. While knowing full well that the biggest gap between them was

experience, she would have gladly given her left kidney to possess the fluid grace and supreme confidence that seemed to be Keeps’ by birthright.

That she genuinely liked the woman made the lesson at least palatable, and she resolved then and there to get Dylan, if needed, to intercede on her behalf

for some off-season lessons that would surely elevate her game to the next, much needed, level.

Dropping her towel in her lap, she turned to find Dylan looking at her, a spark of concern easily read in those too-blue eyes. “I’m okay,” she reassured her

partner. “She’s just…damn she’s good.”

“She is that.”

“It really makes me wish that I had been around, you know, as a professional, when the two of you played together. Playing against her is nothing like

watching it on TV. You guys must have been, God, just amazing together.”

“We were alright,” Dylan drawled, stretching impossibly long arms along the back of the bench they shared while extending even longer legs and crossing

them at the ankles, completely unperturbed by their close call.

“Nothing bothers you, does it,” Cat observed with just a hint of envy.

Dylan shrugged. “Don’t sweat the small stuff.”

Cat straightened, eyes flashing. “Dylan Lambert, you are one of, if not the most competitive person I know. I can’t believe I just heard that come out of

your mouth!”

Laughing softly, Dylan reached up and tousled Cat’s already tousled hair. “We had it in the bag, darlin’. The outcome was never in doubt.”

“For you, maybe,” Cat grumbled.

Dylan’s expression turned serious. “One day, Cat,” she intoned softly, “you’ll see in yourself what I see in you. Then, maybe, you’ll believe.”

Rising elegantly to her feet, Dylan left a totally stunned Cat behind.

“You and me, white bread! You and me, short shit! Yeah, you and me! I’m gonna fuck you up so high you ain’t never gonna come down!”

Cat’s nemesis, Kiesha Brown, was pulled back by her playing partner, Coral Tippets, and hustled over to the opposite bench.

“Jesus,” Cat muttered half under her breath as she tossed her towel on the bench and followed it down. “Who in the hell pissed in her Wheaties this

morning?”

Dylan smirked over her water bottle, then guzzled the rest of it down. “You wanted a challenge.”

“Challenge? Damn, Dylan, if I’d wanted a prison gang fight, I’d have flashed the crowd and gotten myself arrested first!”

“Now that I would have liked to have seen,” Dylan replied, chuckling.

“Get yourself a police uniform, sweetheart, and I’ll give you a show for free.”

If she had had any water left in her mouth, Dylan would surely have choked. Crystal eyes went absolutely round, and Cat smirked, pleased to have gotten

one up on her usually imperturbable partner.

“You seriously expect me to play with that image in my head, do you?”

Cat laughed. “Show me a few of your famous on-court moves in this next game, and you won’t need the uniform.”

This time, Dylan was the one left stunned on the bench as Cat sauntered away. After a moment, she broke out into a big grin, and chuckled softly, shaking

her head. “One of these days, Lambert,” she murmured. “One of these days, you’ll learn that your little kitten has some mean claws.”

The sound of a whistle cut stridently through the cheering crowd, but didn’t effect in the least the two enraged women grappling over the loose ball. Over

the heads of the two combatants, Dylan and Tippets shared a look and, by mutual consent, moved forward to separate their respective partners from the

melee.

Grabbing Cat easily, if gently, by one arm, Dylan tugged her away from the court, signaling a time-out to the referee with one raised eyebrow and ignoring

the constant stream of epithets spewing from Keisha Brown like sludge from a sewer.

Once on the sidelines, Dylan released her hold on Cat and tossed her a towel. Cat plucked it out of mid-air and angrily tossed it aside, glaring at Dylan all

the while. Dylan’s eyebrow made its way back up again. “You need to stop letting her get to you,” she remarked after a moment filled with heated tension.

“Don’t you think I know that?!?” Cat hissed through clenched teeth. “In case it’s slipped your notice, oh Goddess, we’re down 9-3 here. We’re getting our

asses kicked, and it’s like…it’s like…you don’t even care!!”

Dylan’s voice was very quiet. “Should I?”

The shock of her partner’s statement drained every single drop of anger from Cat’s body. She stared at Dylan as if she’d grown an extra head in the last

minute or two. “I…bu…you….what?!?”

“This isn’t for a tournament trophy, Cat. It’s not for bragging rights,” Dylan continued. “It’s for them.” One long arm swept out, indicating the line of