Jasmine dreaded seeing pro football’s hottest new star, Chris Hays again after eight long years. Back in high school, he was the tall, blonde captain of the football team and had a reputation for sleeping his way through the cheerleading squad. Jasmine, on the other hand, was painfully shy, poor and lived on the “wrong side of the tracks.” She knew there was never a chance he’d ever ask her out, but it never stopped her from dreaming. When they meet again years later at a press conference, sparks fly and Jasmine finally has a chance to make her fantasies come true. This 10,500 word story contains a steamy romance between a young black woman and a smoking hot white football player and scenes too passionate for some readers to handle! “Why haven’t you been answering my calls?” he counters, the smile vanishing from his face, as he regards me closely. Feeling like a bug under a microscope, I shuffle uncomfortably in my seat. What is it they say? The best defense is offense. “Why have you been trying to call me?” I challenge, folding my arms beneath my bosom and leaning back in my chair. “I mean, surely you get everything you want from me last night?” His strong jaw falls open slightly, as his brow creases with incredulity. “Excuse me?” his deep, warm voice scoffs. “You had your fun,” I continue, ignoring what seems to be genuine surprise on his face. “Time to move on to the next conquest, isn’t it?” As the words flow, I push my chair back and rise to my feet. Not entirely sure what I’m doing, I march toward the door. “So, I figure we don’t have anything to talk about,” I finish bluntly, throwing the door open wide and standing aside. With a dramatic gesture of my right hand, I offer him the way out. His upper body had followed me, and is now twisted around so he’s half facing me and the door. Disbelief is still etched on his face. I guess this is because he’s unused to women calmly accepting that one night was just one night. “Have I done something to offend you?” he asks, cocking his head to one side. “Look,” I sigh, reluctantly tugging the door closed, in case my next words are overheard. “I know that I’m just one among hundreds, maybe even thousands,” I pause, as that thought prompts a fresh wave of nausea. “So, you’ve had me. It’s time to move on to some fresh meat, right?” “Hey,” he objects, running a hand through his short crop of blonde hair. “What makes you think any of that crap is true?” “What?” “All that bull about my reputation that’s printed in the tabloids,” he explains. “What makes you think it’s true?” I chuckle humorlessly. “You seem to forget,” I sigh. “I know it’s not for nothing you’ve got that reputation.”