Fast Courting (6 page)

“Tell me.”

Her hesitation was awkward, made more so by the sheepish look she wore. Daniel saw it all. She finally opted for a vague elaboration. “It’s a piece spotlighting several prominent easterners…”

“Prominent?” he asked, sensing more.

Nia wet her lips, then looked down. “Prominent and …and…”

“Well, what is it? Wealthy? Handsome? Dark-haired? Charming?”

“How about arrogant?” she shot back, pouting.

Daniel peered at her strangely. “You really
are
having trouble with this assignment, aren’t you?” Her words, spoken in anger earlier, had come back to haunt her. There seemed no point in denial.

She threw her hands up as she spoke. “I think it’s absurd! The ten most eligible easterners—it annoys me every time I think of it!”

“The ten most eligible easterners?” he echoed in disbelief. “In
Eastern Edge?”

“That’s what
I
said.” She grimaced. “But Bill was adamant. Have you ever heard anything so foolish?”

Daniel never got a chance to respond for, at that moment, their lunch was set quietly before them. It was an attractive dish—thin-sliced veal in a light cream sauce, with a vegetable potpourri that included eggplant, zucchini, peppers and several other goodies. “Thanks, Sue.” He smiled up at the waitress, who blushed and left without a word.

“Do you eat here often?” Nia asked, wondering at the familiarity. He hadn’t even bothered to look at a menu, yet a magnificent presentation had been made. Its smell was divine.

“Oh, several times a week—when we’re home. I don’t live far from here…and I’m not a terribly good cook. This is the special of the day. Is it all right for you?”

“It’s fine. It’s lovely! I’m just amazed. I mean, where’s all the backslapping and handshaking and basketball talk from the owners and other patrons?”

His gaze narrowed. “If I found that here I’d never come back. The owner knows that. It’s bad enough when you walk through airports or into elegant restaurants and someone recognizes you. It doesn’t matter how hungry or tired or rushed you may be—the public
expects
. That’s why I eat here. These people
don’t
. And,” he paused, lowering his voice, “that’s another reason I won’t let you write about me. I
need
my privacy.”

The force of his declaration led to a short span of quiet, during which they began to eat. Nia reflected on his feelings, wondering in particular about that privacy he prized so highly.

“Why
are
you ‘eligible’…Daniel?” Her question in part related to her use of his name, which felt pleasantly comfortable on her tongue.

His smile proved the rightness of it. “Yes, Daniel. And why am I ‘eligible’? I suppose because I’m not married.”

“I did manage to guess that,” she quipped facetiously. “But why not?”

He shrugged off the importance of the question. “It doesn’t suit my lifestyle.”

“Have you
ever
been married?”

He ignored her, proceeding to eat in silence for a minute. “This is beginning to sound suspiciously like an interview.”

“It isn’t,” she rebounded quickly. “I’m curious.”

“Naturally.”

“It
is
odd to find someone like you without a steady companion. If for no other purpose than to cook you private dinners…”

Daniel put down his fork. “The kind of woman who would interest me would have to be both intelligent and independent. Do you honestly think that
that
kind of woman would be content to sit around my house waiting for me to return at odd hours and odd days?”

“If she loved you, she might.”

“I’d
never
ask a woman to do that. It’s a cruel life for a married couple. You, of all people, should know that!”

Nia flinched. “A low blow,” she murmured, twisting her locket self-consciously. “But the blame was David’s and mine.”

“Is that why you despise the entire game of basketball?”

“I don’t. It’s just…just that…anything to do with basketball brings back painful memories.” She frowned, lifted her wineglass and sipped from it absently, then replaced it on the table and took a deep breath. “I should be over it by now,” she whispered, wishing she was, fearing that this man’s company complicated the issue in more ways than one. Not only was he a vital part of the world she’d religiously avoided over the years, but she had to admit that, quite involuntarily, she found him very attractive.

“How long has it been?” His gentle voice was soothing, another facet of that lure. Had he been boorish and uncouth, she might easily have lumped him together with her other reasons for disliking the sport. But he appeared to be intelligent, a true thinking man. For some reason, she felt that he could affect her emotions.

“Just about five years.” She faced him with a mustering of her poise. “We were married for nearly another five, most of which were difficult.”

“You
were
much younger than David, weren’t you?”

“Uh-huh. Fifteen years, to be exact.” It seemed perfectly normal to be talking with Daniel this way. There was a strength about him that inspired confession; he was like an old friend, content to listen. “But…the age difference was only secondary in our troubles.”

“Oh?”

The layers of her dark hair shimmied with her headshake. “We couldn’t coordinate our lives. We went in different directions, physically
and
emotionally.”

“Then it wasn’t just…the women …?”

Nia smiled sadly. “You don’t mince words, do you?” At Daniel’s silent shrug, she was bidden to answer his question. “No,” she sighed. “Much as I’d like to believe differently, the infidelity was only part of it. I needed a husband, someone to
be
there, to share life with. All David needed was his column…and basketball.”

They ate in silence for several moments. Daniel reflected on what she’d told him, wondering about the parallels to his own life and needs. Nia considered her own thoughts and her astonishment at having shared them so freely. But here was a man who prized his confidentialities; surely he would respect hers. She felt sure that her confessions would go no further than this booth.

“Do you ever see him?” Daniel asked at last, sitting back to digest his lunch.

Nia grunted. “I should ask
you
that. He must cover the games you play against the Spurs.”

“Yes, I do see him when we’re in San Antonio. Our relationship is strictly a business one.” He paused, his brown-eyed gaze softening even before he posed his question. “Do you miss him?”

“No.”

“You’re very sure.”

“I am.”

“Do you live alone?”

“Yes.”

“Lonely?”

Her gaze was shuttered as she caught her breath, then she peered through her lashes at him. A blend of hesitance and humor lowered her voice to a vague imitation of his. “This is beginning to sound suspiciously like an interview.”

“It isn’t.” He smiled, recalling and echoing her earlier riposte. “I’m just curious.”

“About
me?”
It was worth a try to divert him; he was far too comfortable a companion. She needed a sharp reminder of who he was and why she was with him. “I’ve got nothing to offer.
You’re
the one with the secret life.
You’re
the one the public wants to hear about. Come on, Daniel. I’d really like to do that interview.”

His state of gentle relaxation became a thing of the past. As he stiffened, he raised two fingers to the waitress who instantly brought hot coffee. Nia watched him closely, bemused by his abrupt mood change and strangely sad to bid his friendly side good-bye. It was as though her reminder of who
he
was had triggered his remembrance of
her
affiliation. It was a necessary progression of events; after all, he’d be headed back to the arena, while she’d be aimed for Boston and the offices of
Eastern Edge
.

“Oh, no,” she exclaimed, suddenly mindful of the fact that she’d been expected back in the office much earlier. “I’ve got to make a phone call. Is there a pay phone here?”

He stretched, dug his hand into the pocket of his slacks, and presented her with a quarter. “Out back.”

Nia stared at the quarter. “What’s that for?” she asked, her own wallet in her hand as she slid out of the booth.

“Your call.”

“I have change.”

“Use it,” he ordered in a voice that resembled the one he’d used to command his players at the practice earlier. His expression was taut; Nia had no wish to goad him further.

Taking the quarter, she escaped to the back of the restaurant. Her mind was suddenly a jumble in anticipation of Bill Austen’s anger at their missed meeting, his skepticism when she’d have to tell him that Daniel Strahan had refused her request, Daniel’s own tightness on the entire subject. With so many legitimate sources of worry, why was she fixated on such a petty matter as the intimate warmth of the small coin that Daniel had taken from his thigh pocket?

Scowling in self-reproach, she put through her call, apologizing as best she could to Bill, putting as much of the blame for her delay as she could on Daniel.

“He’s giving me a really hard time, Bill.” She spoke softly to avoid being overheard. “I don’t think he’ll agree to it.” Might as well warn the boss ahead of time.

But the voice on the other end of the line was far from sympathetic. “Convince him, Nia. You can do it if anyone can. Be wily. Be feminine. Get to him.”

“Do you have any idea what you’re asking?” she bit back in dismay.

Bill’s return was sharp. “I’m not asking you to do anything but be persuasive. I know that you’re not eager to do this assignment. But I do want you to give it your best before you give up on that one.”

“
That one
is a very stubborn man,” she argued. Why did she feel like a traitor saying such a thing?

“Well,
you
be stubborn, too!” he snapped, jolting her into recollecting the toast she and Daniel had so recently exchanged. “And get yourself back here before the day is a total waste, Nia. If we don’t go over this collegiate piece we’ll never get it to the printer for next month’s issue! We’ve got to do it today!”

“I know,” she breathed. “I know. I’ll be there within the hour.” After replacing the receiver, she rested her forehead on the wall mount. Some days, nothing came easily….

“Is everything all right?”

Nia jerked her head up in surprise to find Daniel standing beneath the archway that led to the small alcove that housed the phone. He had thrust his hands into the pockets of his pants, of necessity forcing aside the front of his blazer to reveal a broad expanse of shirt-sheathed chest. Oh, he
was
attractive….

“Uh…yes…” she began, then changed her tune as indignation set in. “No!” she gritted quietly. “Everything’s
not
all right! My boss is furious that I’m late—we were supposed to go over some things together this afternoon. By the time I get back into town there’ll be barely enough time to do anything. He doesn’t care that
you
shanghaied me into having lunch with you. An intimate little lunch,” she scoffed, tossing her head back. “The only one who’s been at all intimate is
me.”
Her eyes flashed with violet fury. “If we had more time I might well have been duped into telling you my whole life’s story! What I can’t understand is how you managed to get me to talk—when I can’t even get you to
consider
returning the favor.”

The unevenness of her breathing was a direct result of her tightly bridled anger. She was acutely aware of where they were; had it been a more private location, she would have lashed out more loudly. Now, she simply stood and glared.

Throughout the softly seething barrage, Daniel hadn’t budged. Now he didn’t say a word until she had remained silent for a full minute.

“Are you done?” he asked calmly, his thoughts on her outburst well hidden behind a civil veneer.

“Yes!”

“Then let’s get out of here.” Straightening, he turned and led the way.

T
he short return trip was made in silence. She stared out the side window, a fist jammed against her chin. His eyes never left the road. When the arena loomed before them, Daniel pulled up beside her car.

Nia’s eyes dropped to her lap and she bolstered herself with a deep breath. “Look, Daniel, I’m sorry I went on that way. It was wrong of me.”

“Wrong to speak your mind?” His voice was smooth, in control.

Innate honesty brought her head up, her gaze to his. “Wrong to take
my
frustration out on you. I’m sure that you’ve got your share of aggravation. Besides, you were right, back there in your office.
You
didn’t ask me to come here. For that matter, you didn’t ask to be chosen by
Eastern Edge
for its feature. I’m sorry if I’ve spoiled your free time…and your lunch.”

Daniel sat back against the rich leather of the bucket seat, stared forward for a minute, then glanced toward Nia. “You didn’t do that.” There was a deeper thread in his voice, one she might have ignored had it not been for the darker glint in his eye. Nia grew more conscious of the intimacy of the car and the long, lean example of masculinity beside her. For all her anger at him, she couldn’t deny the powerful draw of the man. He was a mass of good looks and subtle sensuality, kindling feelings within her that she simply couldn’t face.

Cursing her own vulnerability, she tugged at the handle of the door, swearing softly when it wouldn’t give. The long arm that reached across her solved that problem with the flick of the lock, even as its nearness temporarily halted her flight. It recoiled slowly, retracing a path that skimmed her middle beneath her breasts. Its heat was vivid despite the layers of her sweater and coat.

Nia caught her breath, wavered, then made her escape, only to be stopped once more at her own car by the deep voice that called to her, its sound easily besting the brisk breeze.

“I’ll consider it.”

Fearing she’d misheard him, Nia turned slowly. The sleek maroon body of Daniel’s car stood between them; his arm was outstretched on its roof. Now that he had her attention, he moved more leisurely around the car and came to stand before her.

“I’ll consider it,” he repeated, raising both palms toward her in a gesture of peace. “I can’t promise that I’ll agree, but I
will
think about it.”

Skepticism brought a frown to Nia’s gentle features, yet words eluded her. She felt confused, torn between regarding Daniel as a superb sportsman…or simply a superb man. Unsure, she pondered the choice as she distractedly unlocked her own door and slid into the driver’s seat. The slam of the door was a shot of encouragement; the token barrier was better than none. On impulse, she rolled down her window and squinted back up at Daniel, whose dark head was haloed by the afternoon sun.

“You will?” she asked in childlike disbelief.

He nodded, bending to bring his face closer. “I will.” The glint had become a gleam, fascinating Nia into lingering.

“And…to what do I owe this change of heart?” She smiled more coyly than she had as yet. The quiet ring of her own voice, softer and more feminine, gave her the answer she sought. Her smile faded as her heart skipped a beat.
Start the car
, a tiny voice cried, but she was unable to move. Daniel’s eyes released her gaze only to fall to the lower lip she unknowingly chewed. Her eyes widened in uncharacteristic fear. This wasn’t what she wanted. It was far too dangerous. Daniel Strahan was too attractive a man; she shouldn’t play with this kind of fire.

“Don’t,” she whispered, condensing her protest into one word of sanity.

But Daniel silently overrode her objection, lowering his head until his face was close, so close. Once again she protested, shaking her head in slow denial of the force that seemed destined to draw them together. His warmth reached out to her, holding her suddenly still as he moved a fraction of an inch until his lips touched hers. The sweetness of his kiss overwhelmed her. It was light and gentle, dealing with her fear by tantalizing her with a wisp of a caress that left tingles at every touchpoint. She gasped when he drew back, but he kissed her again, as lightly as before and as briefly. Her lips felt cool when he left them once more, this time to take in the flush on her cheeks and the nascent light of desire in her eyes.

His taunting had done its job, leaving her aware and receptive. She offered no resistance when his lips lowered a third time, meeting hers fully and with a persuasive power that set her senses reeling. The gentle command of his kiss had ensured her commitment; her response was inevitable.

Slowly, Nia opened to him, with an involvement she hadn’t shown in years. She was curious, as interested in the depth of his virility as he was in her abandonment. Staking his claim, he deepened the kiss. If this was the first offering of his personal stock, she savored it fully. Eyes closed, she drank in the heady taste of his mouth, a taste tinged with the memory of coffee laced with cream and four sugars. Sensing her pleasure, he offered more, sampling the moistness of her mouth with the tip of his tongue. A tremor of sheer delight sizzled its way through her.

Suddenly a raucous call, a shout, a long and suggestive whistle tore them apart, shattering the moment with an abrupt return to reality.

“Not bad, coach …!”

“Go get her, man!”

“Heeeey, Professor…At-a-way …!”

Releasing her lips with a shuddering moan, Daniel slowly straightened. His eyes held Nia’s for an instant of silent apology before he turned his head to glare at the three Breakers sauntering across the parking lot. The first thing Nia noted was their superior height; as had been obvious at the practice that morning, they towered over Daniel. The second, and far more startling, thing she noted was their response to the coach. He said nothing, simply stared at them, his hands cocked ominously on his hips. As though physically lashed, they shied away and hastened toward a waiting car, slithering in with a tangle of arms and legs, then belatedly minding their own business as the car sped off. It was an impressive show— this power of Daniel’s—but one that was consistent with the more private showing she’d had moments before. Nia was rudely awakened to her folly.

When Daniel turned back and opened his mouth to speak she held out a hand to silence him. This time, when she shook her head, he kept his distance. Her distress was obvious.

“I’ve got to go,” she whispered hoarsely; starting the car and backing out of the space, she drove out of the parking lot without a look back. More than anything, she needed to think. The cool air rushed in through her open window, gradually calming her senses and clearing her head. She had all of twenty minutes of travel time to make sense out of what had happened.

Of the emotions that whirled about her mind, self-reproach took the lead. For the first time in her professional career, she had truly blown it! Oh, yes, Daniel Strahan had said that he’d consider her request. But would he really ever consent to the interview? No! She knew it in her heart.

And, in her heart, she couldn’t really blame him. In her heart, she didn’t
want
him to give in. For she
did
believe him to be a very private person; he’d convinced her of that in deed as well as in word. To hound him further would be to violate something totally unexpected and surprisingly precious—her respect for him as a human being.

In the course of her years as a writer Nia had come to rely on instinct in judging her quarry. Rarely were her first impressions wrong—exaggerated or understated, perhaps, but rarely wrong. Today, Daniel Strahan had struck her as a man of character, of dedication, of honesty. One part of her was reluctant to share him. And
that
was the crux of her dilemma.

He had kissed her. She had kissed him back. By all reasonable estimates, she had broken the very first rule in the book. Hadn’t
she
been the one to lash out at Daniel when he’d spoken of “hunger” in such a seductive vein? Yet she had melted beneath his touch, offering little more than token resistance. In the matter of a few short hours she had ceased to view him as a subject and had begun to view him as a man. Tall. Virile. Compelling. But he was a
basketball
star.
How could she have done it?

The torrent of dismay tossed her one step ahead. There was no possible future with a man like Daniel, regardless of the strength of his appeal. He’d said as much himself; his lifestyle wreaked havoc with relationships.
She should know
.

So, if a relationship was out of the question, what
had
been the justification for that kiss? Aside from the sheer pleasure of the moment, there seemed to be none. And
that
was quite out of character. The need for physical experimentation had exhausted itself in Nia’s marriage. Yes, she dated often, but raw physical desire had never played a part in her social life since the divorce. What had happened today?

The turnpike curved to the right and crested a rise, bringing the skyline of Boston into full view. Its sight was instantly comforting to Nia, as was the landscape of Cambridge to her left. This was home. Its nearness reassured her; its life enveloped her. By the time she had left the pike and negotiated the downtown streets she felt nearly normal. There was still the unfinished business of the eligible easterner feature that had caused her trouble from the start. But there were other things to think of, more immediate things. Daniel Strahan could wait his turn.

Daniel Strahan, however, was not one to wait. He
made
his turn, taking the offensive, stealing the ball on the rebound and breaking fast with it. Nia scarcely had time to settle into a chair by Bill Austen’s desk when the phone rang.

“Yes,” Bill clipped absently, then shot a glance at Nia. Both brows lifted in speculation, he held out the receiver.

Startled, she took it. “Hello?”

“Antonia …? It’s Dan.” How could she ever forget that voice? “Are you…all right?”

For the past ten minutes, she’d been able to divert her mind from the embarrassment she felt. Now it was all back. With an audience, no less. Was she all right? If self-reproach, frustration and guilt were the normal state of things, she was fine.

“Dan who?” she quipped, unable to resist the barb. But her voice was soft and a far cry from the expression of annoyance she’d intended.

“Ahhh. She
is
all right.” He spoke slowly, deeply. Nia tried to picture him in his office, balanced back in his chair, half buried in a world she could never share. Unfortunately, the man stood out in her mind, tall and alluring. She heard the smile in his voice. “And sweet as ever.”

“As ever.”

He paused for a minute. “Are you angry?”

“Hmmph.” She looked up to catch Bill’s sharpened gaze, then quickly averted her eyes, lowered her head, and turned from him to perch on the corner of his desk.

“At
me?”
Momentary wariness came low over the wire.

“Among others.”

“At my…wards?”

“They’re charming,” she offered in quiet sarcasm.

Daniel hesitated, then plunged. “At yourself?”

“Bingo.” Unconsciously, she put her little finger against the tight coil of the phone wire and began to work it around.

“Well, don’t be. It takes two, you know.”

“Tell me.”

“It takes two.”

Nia bit her lip in a bid for patience. Bill shifted in his seat and Daniel, miraculously, saw it all.

“Your boss is right there?”

“Uh-huh.” And he was eyeing her very strangely.

“Well, tell him I’m thinking about it.”

“You’ll never do it.” The tip of her finger was all but hidden in the white coil.

“I may.”

“I doubt it.”

“Don’t you want me to?”

She tucked her chin more tightly against her chest, so that her voice was nearly muffled. “No.” The resultant pause was predictable.

“Now…that
does
surprise me. Was the decision made before…or after…we met?”

“A little of both.” Bill’s restlessness was a glaring hint from the corner of her eye. “Listen,” she half whispered, “I’ve got to run.”

“OK. Be good.” He accepted the brush-off without a fuss.

“You, too.” The receiver had already left her ear when his parting shot brought it quickly back.

“Will you be watching the game tonight?”

“No.”

“Why don’t you try.”

“Uh-uh.” The first joint of her pinkie had disappeared as well now.

“It might be helpful…if you hope to write that article.”

“I don’t.”

“You may.”

“It’s not about the game.”

“Ahhh. That’s right. It’s about me. But …is there really a distinction?”

Her voice rose for the first time, fraught with urgency. “Yes! You know there is!”

Again, she heard his smile, could almost see it dancing at the corners of his firm lips. “Just as long as
you
do, too. Take care.” And he hung up, leaving her to stare dumbly at the receiver. It was Bill’s firm hand that re lieved her of the burden, replacing it on its cradle as she fumbled to free her finger from the cord. Her head was still down when Bill confronted her.

“What was
that
all about?”

The instant her gaze met his, she knew that deception would be a waste of time. If there was to be a new man in the number five slot for the eligible eastern men article, Bill Austen might as well know now.

“
That
was Daniel Strahan.”

Bill’s initial surprise quickly gave way to perception. “Uh-oh.”

She grimaced. “Uh-oh is right! He won’t do it.”

“An out-and-out no?”

Again, she couldn’t lie. “Well, he said he’d consider it. But after spending the better part of two hours with the man, I can tell you that he won’t do it.”

“Even after you spoke to me, you couldn’t convince him?”

“
Especially
then.” Her mind’s eye replayed those concluding minutes and her cheeks warmed, quite against her will. Bill was all too aware of the flush. Strolling to the far side of the room, ostensibly to study the assignment board, he hid his expression from her.