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Dylan sighed again. “Some jackass photographer from one of those weekly gossip rags caught us on the beach sometime last week. They sent him a mockup of the front page. He showed it to me.”

“Jesus Christ!” Cat exploded, dropping her arms and beginning to pace. “Why can’t that fucking asshole just leave us alone?? Are we bothering anyone?

No! Are we bothering him?! No!! What the….”

“Cat, calm down.”

“I won’t calm down, Dylan! This shit has got to stop!! How in the hell are we supposed to live our lives with that bastard sticking his nose into every nook

and cranny? He’s a fucking voyeur!”

“I know. I know. He pissed me off too, believe me. But…I think I called his bluff.”

“How?”

“I threatened to walk.”

The shock on Cat’s face was almost comical. “You…what?”

“Just what I said,” Dylan replied, rising from the couch and slipping her hands into her pockets. “Cat, he threatened to fire you for breaking the morals

clause in your contract. I told him that if he fired you, I’d walk.”

“Dylan, you can’t….”

“I can, and I will, Cat. I’m tired of Johnson trying to run my life. I’m more tired of him trying to ruin yours. I’m not playing his whore anymore. If he wants to

publish that photo of us, and the piece of crap article that goes with it, he can go right ahead. I don’t care anymore.”

“But—.”

Walking over to Cat, she reached out and took her lover’s hands. “What I do care about, Cat, is you. Us. It’s more important than whatever image he wants

the public to buy. It’s more important than my sponsors, my contract, and my damn career. So let him do what he wants to. He can’t hurt me anymore.”

Cat looked up at her in wonder, her eyes shining. “You….” She swallowed. “You really mean that, don’t you.”

“Yes. I do.” Leaning slowly down, she brushed her lips against Cat’s, then returned, deepening the kiss until Johnson, careers, and even dinner, was

forgotten.

Cat watched Dylan in her office as the team prepared for the game. Only Cat knew about the turmoil going on in her lover’s mind over the newest

developments with Horace, the rest of the team was blissfully ignorant of the problems brewing not only for their coach and Catherine, but for the team as

a whole. Cat smiled to herself as she straightened her new brace, knowing that Dylan wouldn’t have it any other way. Dylan was first and foremost a

professional and a damn good coach. She would find a way to deal with Horace and put an end to his manipulations and she would do her best to keep the

rest of the team sheltered from it.

As far as Dylan Lambert was concerned, it was bad enough that Cat was being threatened; there was no need for the entire team to feel the stress caused

by the bastard that signed the checks. Sitting at her desk, Dylan flipped through the playbook, pretending to be concentrating on the game they were about

to play, but fighting her desire to march up to Horace’s skybox and toss him out the window onto the court below.

She knew that all the team needed to do was take the championship and they would have some ammunition to use against the owner should he decide to

go public with his threats. People might have problems with gays and lesbians in general, but they loved a winner and they especially loved sports heroes.

A win would mean that both she and Catherine would have options past the Badgers.

As Dylan stated down at the playbook, she hoped that she was right. Her career had actually been over since the injury. She tried to tell herself that

coaching was the next best thing, but the truth was, in her heart it wasn’t. She loved the game and loved coaching these women, but for a player of Dylan’s

caliber, anything other than playing was settling. And she hated to settle. It grated on her nerves, made her antsy and out of sorts, and no one, especially

Cat, deserved to see that side of her.

With a determined breath she gathered up the playbook, and her clipboard and went into the locker room where everyone was waiting for the pre-game

pep talk. Dylan couldn’t help but smile as she looked at the expectant faces staring at her and waiting for her traditional words of wisdom.

She could only think of three. “Give ‘em hell.”

The tip off sent the ball to their opponent and Cat knew that a win was going to be tough to come by. Teams didn’t get this far without being fierce

competitors. Cat watched as Angela managed to take the ball and head it back down the court. Even as Cat charged to her own position she could tell by

the way Tippens moved that the center was going for the three point shot, and the roar of the crowd drowned out everything else as Cat guarded against

someone from the Spartan team trying something silly like taking that ball from Angela. Even as she turned to move back into offensive mode, she took the

time to wiggle her eyebrows at the Spartan guard who cursed when the scoreboard registered the Badgers three.

Dylan’s eyes tracked up to the skybox where Horace sat, drinking and watching the game with far too much interest in her opinion. He had never before