The Wrong Mr. Darcy - Evelyn Lozada Page 0,27
loose around his waist, steam trailing after him. The room erupted. “Hey, Charles! Charles! What happened tonight? Charles!”
The crowd followed him to his locker, including the loudmouth who’d been next to her. From their excitement, it was clear they were hoping he’d actually say more than his usual two-word responses, now that he’d given in and done a full interview.
His post-game style didn’t change. He was polite and friendly, but once again kept his answers to the bare minimum. Hara was happy to keep her eyes on her notepad, scribbling away while Charles dressed. She didn’t want anyone to accuse her of being there just so she could ogle the meat sacks.
A few more ballplayers trailed out of the shower room. Then Derek emerged and once again his appearance made her catch her breath.
His lean, muscular body, dark skin slick from the shower, moved gracefully. Yet, he also walked with a slight stiffness, holding a towel around his waist with a tight fist. Was he sore? Or was he uncomfortable? Hara didn’t know how any athlete could stand to have their privacy invaded like this, whether or not the reporters were male or female. Would it be so terrible if the press, male and female, had to wait in the conference room? Or the hall? Would the excitement of the moment be lost between toweling off and pulling on shoes? The controversy had raged forever. But if male reporters were going to be allowed access, then so was she. Women had busted open the glass locker room door and Hara was staying in there until they all had to leave.
The majority of reporters still clustered around Charles, trying to pry something headline-worthy free.
Derek was alone, now in compression briefs and socks. He slid on a pair of basketball shorts as she approached, glaring at her. She controlled her own stare, trying not to linger on his broad chest or how it narrowed down to a subtle six-pack. She could see why women might want to sneak in and get a peek at these men.
He spoke in a growl. “I mean, seriously, don’t you feel weird watching me dress?”
“Don’t worry about me,” she said loftily, as if annoying an NBA player was an everyday event. “Let’s talk about tonight. That was a pretty impressive showing, racking up the points like that.”
“Maybe you hit your head harder than I thought. Didn’t you notice? We lost.” He tugged a polo shirt over his head, his biceps flexing naturally.
“A tough game, for sure.” She didn’t take his bait. “You were brought on because of your defense skills at Pepperdine. Looks like you’re expanding your role on the court. How’s the team feel about that?”
“I think it’s important that I can be versatile, knocking down their balls and making the swishes—”
“The Wreck really put ’em through their paces tonight,” Charles said loudly from his own locker. Now dressed, he came over to Derek and slapped him on the back. “I’m a little jealous. My bro here is tryin’ to steal my crown. At least he’s on my team.”
Derek smiled slightly, more than she’d seen from him yet. “You know I got your back.”
Charles turned and pointed at Hara. “You got a question for me, girlie?”
The room went quiet. “Who’s she?” someone whispered.
I’m Hara Isari, bitches. She paused. There was a choice: Ask a question about the game, or ask Charles if he was hiding something.
“What made tonight’s game so tough, you think?” It rolled out, confident and smooth, like she knew what she was doing. Like she wasn’t a big, freaking coward.
As the other reporters shifted and filled the space around her, he responded, “You know, our problem was defense right from the start, but that was a matter of everyone not being on the same page. We’re gonna get there.”
Eddie, the bearded ginger, beat her to the next question. “Are you saying the loss was Darcy’s fault?”
“Come on, man, you know I ain’t sayin’ that.” The star went back to his space and grabbed his gym bag. “Well, I’m out.” Charles offered Hara a two-fingered salute. Then, making his way to the locker room door, he slapped Gus on the ass with a ringing smack, surprising a yelp from the rookie, but he didn’t say anything more to Derek.
As the star exited, Derek quietly tied his shoes, ignoring any further questions directed at him. The other reporters faded away, seeking interviewees more talkative than Derek. She stood her ground. “Do you think he meant