Page 12 of Secret Sin

What the hell was wrong with me? What voodoo magic did Bishop wield that he could undo me so easily? I didn’t even want a relationship with the guy. Why did I care if he called or texted?

I heaved a frustrated sigh and dropped my chin into my hand, my elbow propped on a knee.

“It can’t bethatbad.” Bishop’s amused voice engulfed me as he lowered himself to sit on the bench beside me.

I shot upright. “What are you doing here?” My words might have come off accusatory, but inside, I was bursting with exhilaration.

“I was heading to my gym, which happens to be nearby. Figured I’d pop in.”

“But there are two dozen YMCAs in this city. How did you know which one I’d be at?”

“This is the one closest to your parents’ house.” He shrugged. “I could have been wrong, but I only would have been out a few minutes of my time.”

I slowly relaxed, the adrenaline rush fading. “You have a habit of showing up places. Should I be worried?”

He flashed a fiendish grin. “Absolutely.”

I shook my head, fighting back a smile.

“So who are we watching?”

“The one in the red shirt.” I pointed out my brother on the court.

“You always come to his practices?”

“No. Mom usually takes him.”

Bishop leaned back, draping his arms on the bench behind us. “Place brings back memories.”

“You play?” I asked him.

“Every day when I was a kid. Not at this same Y, but they’re all similar. We also had an outdoor court near my parents’ house that I went to a bunch.”

“You still play?”

“Not often,” he said with a touch of remorse. “I’m usually boxing if I have time.”

“If you love basketball, why pick up boxing?”

“Needed to know how to protect myself and fell in love with the sport. There’s no better stress reliever.” His eyes cut over to me. “Well, maybe one.”

The dizzying swell of electricity sparked between us. No matter that we were in a smelly gym surrounded by strangers, that damnable chemistry connecting us refused to dissipate.

I turned my now crimson cheeks back to the boys as they finished practice.

“Doesn’t look like this court is scheduled for another practice,” Bishop noted, peering around the sidelines. “I happen to be dressed for the occasion. Maybe I could show you a few moves.”

Oh, this was too good—an opportunity I couldn’t pass up.

“I’m not sure jeans and a T-shirt are gym clothes. Besides, I wouldn’t want to keep you,” I offered, not wanting to look too eager.

“Wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.” The cheeky bastard winked, andGod,did I love it.

I texted our driver that Gabe and I were sticking around a bit longer, then descended the bleachers.

“Gabe, this is Bishop. Bishop, my brother, Gabriel.”

“Gabe. Just Gabe,” my brother corrected.

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