Fast Courting Read Online Free PDF

floor. Ironically, as if it was irrelevant, the victorious swish of a basket was drowned out by the sounds of the players proceeding to the next drill.
    Her eyes drifted up against her will to scan the play for a moment before moving on to the reason for her presence, the focal point of the practice as well, the coach. To her surprise, he wore a Breaker warm-up suit, as did those players who were sidelined for one reason or another. She had always assumed that coaches were more formally dressed, symbolically removed from the team.
    Daniel Strahan was well in control. From where she sat, his deep-toned commands slowly set themselves apart from the other sounds by an air of subtle authority. Intrigued, she looked more closely.
    There were perhaps nine players on the court, alternately running through plays and gathering around the coach. Several other players followed the action, as did three other men beside Strahan. Assistant coaches? Trainers? The words popped into her mind, gleaned from long-ago discussions she’d overheard between David and his fellow addicts. As to the specific role of an assistant coach or a trainer, she was ignorant. Indeed, even the daily duties of the head coach remained a mystery.
    Inevitably her gaze returned to Strahan. Standing alone for the moment, calling commands with one hand on his hip and the other pointing from one player to another, he was tall and lean, broad of shoulder and narrow of hip. His hair was dark, very dark, and casually mussed. As she watched he took the basketball to demonstrate a particular evasive move; the action was lithe and fluid, exhibiting the superb coordination which had, in part, been responsible for his own success as a player. Back on the sideline, he stood briefly at the center of the group. To her surprise and marginal amusement, he was the shortest one there.
    But surprise and amusement turned to caution as she saw the guard who had directed her approach Strahan. The players returned to the court; the two men stood head to head. After a few moments Strahan looked up toward Nia.
    For a few seconds she was aware only of how out of place she must look, dressed conservatively yet with a definite feminine flair in a lace-edged sweater, full skirt and high-heeled pumps. Nia had anticipated spending the morning in corporate circles, the afternoon in the office. More casual clothes might have been appropriate here…but, then, she hadn’t planned on stopping until the arena’s proximity to her route had tempted her. Now she wished she’d resisted that temptation. Strahan was scowling; that was clear despite the distance.
    Fighting the urge to sink lower in her seat, Nia held his gaze stubbornly, reminding herself of the deskful of messages he had seen fit to ignore. The guard turned and walked away. For a moment longer Strahan stared. Then something on the floor caught his eye and his attention, and Nia was left in peace.
    Peace. What a strange word, she mused, as she slowly recovered from the powerful, if short, visual interchange. She had known peace when David was on the road, leaving her to the writing she thought would establish her as a respected professional entity. But the rumors of infidelity had crept up on that peace, shattering it completely in that final, cruel year.
    Breathing deeply, she forced her attention back to the court, where her eyes had blindly continued to follow the practice. Now it was over. The shortest of the men with Strahan— yes, she decided arbitrarily, the trainer— handed out towels to each passing player. In a slow procession they headed for the tunnel to the locker room and were swallowed up, one by one, in the darkened cavity. A few stragglers remained, one of them Strahan. Her pulse jerked when he looked up at her once more. He stood confidently, both hands cocked on his hips, as though he were awaiting something.
    “You can come with me now.”
    Nia’s head spun around to find the same guard in the aisle. “Oh, you