Chapter 2

Game One

Okay, so I have to admit to being just a little nervous as I drove up to Sandra's home. I had been correct, and the woman down in payroll had been more than happy, once I explained who I was and showed two proper forms of identification, to give me Sandra's address.

So now here it was, a few minutes before eight o'clock, and I was pulling into the driveway of a house belonging to woman I really didn't know... a woman I worked with... and somehow I'd gotten myself involved in a wager with her. Too weird. Still, I was a good guest and had brought along a bottle of wine, along with some Chinese takeout.

"Hey," I'd said when Sandra had protested. "It's the least I can do."

I knocked on the door and after a few seconds Sandra appeared. It looked as if she'd taken a shower after getting off work (I'd done the same), and like me had changed into something a bit more sensible than a business suit. I'd selected a pair of jeans and a Mavericks t-shirt.

Not surprisingly, Sandra had decked herself out in a pair of Suns warm-up sweats and a Steve Nash home jersey. She was a vision in orange, and it occurred to me once again that if not for this stupid bet, I might have enjoyed asking her out. Unfortunately, she was now, officially, the "enemy." I might be civil, but there would be no romance. Just a lot of embarrassment - on her part - when the series went the way I knew it would.

"Evening," I said as Sandra stepped back and let me in. I took a quick look at the entryway and gave a short whistle of approval. "Nice place," I said. "Looks a lot smaller from the outside." I gave her a look. "You sure you bought this on just a prosecutor's salary?"

Sandra laughed and took the wine out of my hands. "No," she said as she walked down a hallway, presumably to the kitchen. "I got this as part of my divorce settlement."

"How's that?" I asked. "Your ex-husband bought this for you?"

"No, my ex-husband already owned it when we were married. Turns out he'd been keeping a mistress here on the side. Or at least that was my hypothesis, so if you see any long, straight blond hairs still lying around, keep them... I might be able to squeeze another few bucks out of the creep."

"I'll keep that in mind," I said as I laughed. "No one would mistake the hair as being from you," I said and Sandra smiled in agreement. Her hair was a deep red, almost brown in places, and would definitely not qualify as being straight. Curly to the point of kinky would be an accurate description.

After a few moments of awkward banter, Sandra decided it was time for the food. She grabbed a couple plates and forks - claiming to have absolutely no use for the chopsticks I had grabbed - and I dished out the food. I carried the plates into the den, which Sandra pointed out before heading back to the kitchen to pour the wine.

"You're not getting me drunk," she warned with a laugh as she returned with the drinks. "I'm already in enough trouble as it is," she giggled.

"Hey, only the purest intents," I said.

"Sure," she smirked.

While she settled in, I grabbed the remote - I am the guy, after all - and turned her television to the game. We still had a few minutes of pregame left before tip-off, so I broached a subject she had touched on earlier.

"So... divorced?" I asked. She rolled her eyes and laughed.

"And happily," she said. "God, it was horrible. We met in law school, and it was love at first sight. At least for me. Anyway, we got married during the summer, but then once we graduated, Bill - my husband - started getting really distant. I don't know if it was because his family was "old" money and mine was just scraping by, but we never did anything. I think I met his parents once - the first Christmas Bill and I were dating - and then I saw them at the wedding, but that was it."

"I'm sorry."

"Yeah. It wasn't all bad, but it was... a chilly relationship."

"With the parents?"

"And with Bill. I think part of it was work, but I think he started thinking he'd married down when we tied the knot."

"So... the other woman, then..."

"What about her?"

"She was... I don't know... from a wealthy family?"

"Ha!" Sandra laughed bitterly. "Hardly. She worked at the Double Tree where Bill stayed whenever he was in town on business."

"Oops."

"Yeah."

There was a long silence as we watched Kenny, Charles and the rest of the TNT crew talk about the upcoming game. Finally I couldn't handle it.

"Sorry," I said.

"For what?"

"For bringing it up."

"Oh, that."

"Yeah."

"No biggie. I figure you were just figuring the odds."

"Odds?"

"Of getting into my panties."

At that, I about lost a mouthful of beef and broccoli. Sandra laughed. Laughed! How dare she. I was insulted.

"I was not." I wiped my chin. Apparently a bit of sauce had managed to escape. Sandra laughed again. Bitch!

"That's okay. I'm used to it."

What the hell. "You should be. Woman like you. That was the first thing... no... the second thing... I thought of when I saw you at the bar."

"Oh, so you thought the drunk girl was "easy," did you? Now I'm definitely not sleeping with you."

"No. That wasn't it. I just thought how pretty you were, and that if you hadn't been bad-mouthing the Mavericks, every guy in the place would have been all over you."

She looked at me for a moment before finally giving me a small smile. "Well, thanks. I guess. But we're still not hooking up." She grinned, thankfully, which took a bit of the sting out of her words.

"Any time."

"Wait a minute," she said. "That was the second thing you thought?"

"Uh huh." I was grinning now.

"What was the first?"

"Oh... just what a bitch you were."

"Hey!"

"The Suns will kick your asses," I said, raising my voice and slurring a little in imitation of Sandra at the bar. "And Steve Nash... what a great ass. I bet he's a tiger in bed!"

"I didn't say that... did I?" Sandra looked horrified. I just nodded. "Oh shit."

"Well, I don't think you called Nash a tiger, but it was pretty disgusting."

"I'll bet. Thank God I don't remember much of it!"

"Here's to alcohol," I said and raised my glass. Sandra let out a sarcastic cheer and dinged her glass against my own.

We finished our meal a few minutes later, just in time for the tip-off. The announcer shouted out the starting lineups and then it was time for the last commercial break before the game started.

"Hey," I said, remembering what I had been thinking about on the drive over. "What, exactly, are we betting? I mean, each other, apparently, but how does it work?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, do we just hang out and watch the series and then the loser pays up?"

"Well, yeah, I guess. I hadn't really thought it out. How else would we do it?"

"I don't know. I was thinking there might be a little "reward" for the winner after each game."

Sandra thought it over for a second. "I suppose we could do that. Or else..."

"What?"

"Look at the time. It's already half past eight at night. The game isn't going to get over until close to eleven."

"So?"

"So... I have to be at work early, and so do you. Why don't we get together tomorrow, and whoever loses tonight pays up."

"Um... that works for me tomorrow, but not over the weekend. I'm busy on Saturday."

"Okay, well... I'm assuming you're free the night of the games, right?"

"Wouldn't miss 'em!"

"Well, how about we just get together a couple hours earlier, and we can dish out the punishment then?"

"That could work. where do you want to meet?"

"How about at the place of whoever wins."

"I can deal with that. So, what are the ground rules?"

"I already said I'm not sleeping with you," Sandra reminded me. "And I don't suppose we should leave any permanent marks." I thought she said that teasingly, but I wasn't positive.

"What?" I'm sure my eyes bugged out; in fact I know they did. "Permanent marks? What the hell are you planning to do to me?" I'd been thinking of having Sandra prance around the house in a skimpy maid outfit or something. And she's talking permanent marks? I told her this.

"That's fine," Sandra said, now blushing a little. "I wasn't planning anything serious. Honest."

"Sure. Just dress me up in leather chaps and whip me, right?"

"No, that wasn't it at all! But... aren't you even..."

"What?"

"A little bit kinky?"

"Kinky? I don't know. I guess not." Not at all, actually. I can't say that I'd led a sheltered life, but the images now running through my head - because of Sandra - were nothing like I'd ever considered before. If I was nervous before I was practically sweating now!

"Well... I'll go easy on you."

I gulped. "Thanks," I said. After a bit I had a thought. "Are you sure your ex-husband didn't leave you? I've only known you two days, and I'm scared to death!"

Sandra burst out laughing, then reached over and patted my knee. "I'm harmless," she said, trying to reassure me. "Trust me."

"Okay," I said, hopefully sounding a bit more calm than I felt. "Besides," I added, trying for a bit of false bravado. "None of this will matter."

"No?"

"Nope. I just realized that Dallas is going to sweep the series, just for me. So you won't get to do anything to me at all. Thank God."