Fast Courting Read Online Free PDF Page A

the gaggle of dirt-hungry reporters who covered each game and conducted those infamous pregame and postgame interviews, certainly the man’s life was an open book. Why did she know nothing?
    As she stepped from her car and locked the door she had second thoughts about this drop-in visit. Usually she was better prepared; even in Kiley’s case, she had studied a preliminary bio. Granted, she hadn’t planned on confronting Daniel Strahan today. Perhaps he’d even manage to evade her now.
    Her violet gaze, wide and uneasy, took in the imposing arc of the arena’s structure, sending a chill through her. This was why she knew nothing about Daniel Strahan; everything about basketball in general, and this place in particular, made her uncomfortable. Had it not been for Bill Austen and his supposedly brilliant idea she wouldn’t be here now. For that matter, had Daniel Strahan the social grace to return even one of her calls, she would not have felt at such a distinct disadvantage. What if he actually refused to see her? That would be downright unpleasant. On the other hand, she smiled at the clever thought, such a reception could be just enough to convince Bill to find another “eligible easterner,” freeing her from the world of basketball once more.
    Bolstered by this vague hope, Nia entered the Arena and looked around. Despite the hundreds and hundreds of hours her ex-husband had spent in the building, this was her very first visit. Though she had picked up David many a time outside, she had never ventured within. Strangely, she felt as if she were at the scene of a crime. It seemed perfectly in keeping when a uniformed security guard stopped her.
    “Looking for someone?” he asked blandly.
    “Uh, yes. I’m here to see Daniel Strahan.” She spoke with the confidence of her professional position.
    “He’s busy.”
    “I know. There’s a practice that should be over soon. I’m early.” In some situations Nia would have instantly identified herself as being with the magazine. Here, intuition held her back. Security guards were often more like bodyguards; if this one had an aversion to press people, he’d never allow her entrance.
    “Does he know you’re here?” the guard asked, his gaze narrowed in suspicion.
    Nia bluffed. “I’ve left him several messages.”
    “You a friend?”
    Unwilling to lie, she offered a simultaneous smile and a shrug, letting her slightly provocative head-tilt suggest what it would. It did.
    “Ah. Girlfriend. About time.” To her astonishment, he seemed utterly satisfied. Turning, he pointed toward a ramp. “Go on over there, make a left through those doors and up the steps. You can watch.”
    Watch basketball practice? There was little she wouldn’t rather do. She nearly blurted out as much on impulse. Then it occurred to her that to argue might mean antagonizing the guard. It would be wiser to suffer through the last of the practice, then ask directions to Strahan’s office.
    With a polite nod and a smile of appreciation, she did as the guard had suggested, soon finding herself low in the stands opposite the side of the floor where the team seemed centered. Sliding as unobtrusively as possible into the nearest seat, she opened her notebook, determined to ignore the ongoing practice in protest against the game and what it had done to her life.
    To her chagrin, her powers of concentration left much to be desired. Much as she might glue her eyes to the notes she’d made that morning in Worcester, her ears picked up every nuance of the action on the court. There was the call of instructing voices—was that his voice?—as plays were called, and the slap and squeal of sneaker treads against the floor as each play was executed. There was the murmur of conversation between teammates, oaths of fatigue, gasps of exertion. There was the occasional smack of flesh on flesh as two players accidentally collided with one another and, of course, the resounding thud of the ball as it hit the