Fast Courting by Barbara Delinsky

sense of detachment and left her struggling to recall the time and place. “Up until my last few playing years the pay was low and the benefits poor. Then the green came, mostly as a result of television.” He leaned back when the waitress delivered a carafe of white wine and two crisp salads, then waited until she left to fill their glasses, one of which he raised in toast.
    “To your stubborn streak.”
    Nia mimed his action with a grin. “To yours.”
    Both sipped before she prodded him on. “You were talking about television….”
    He nodded. “Do you know that, under league regulations, there must be at least two time-outs called in each period?” When she raised her eyebrows in question, he explained. “Commercials. The name of the game. And a source of millions. The team gets paid a hefty sum for the rights to televise its games. In turn, the players are treated as entertainers. Money. First-class accommodations. Numerous fringe benefits. Not to mention endorsements.”
    “Has the game itself suffered?” she asked, idly poking at her salad with a fork.
    Daniel took a bite before answering. “I can’t quite say that it has ‘suffered.’ ‘Changed’ is more accurate. Before the team functioned as a team; now the coaches find themselves with a group of individuals who have to be taught— and constantly reminded—to work together. There are many more rivalries and grudges, based solely on the fact that one player may be getting more money for doing a job another thinks is inferior to his own.”
    “Sounds touchy.”
    A deep laugh burst from the back of his throat. “It is. The modern coach is as much a diplomat as anything else.”
    “Do you enjoy it—coaching?”
    He shrugged. “It puts bread on the table.”
    “Oh, come on,” Nia charged lightly. “You have to feel more for it than that . In order to be good at what you do, you have to love it.”
    As if on cue, a basket of sliced Italian bread appeared. Daniel offered it to Nia, who shook her head in refusal, then helped himself to a slice and proceeded to butter it. She watched and waited, expecting some word on the extent of his emotional commitment. But he remained silent and all she saw was a self-confident man wise to her crafty conversational tactics. Acting on years of practice, he tossed the ball downcourt, straight toward the opposite basket.
    “Do you love your work?” he asked, eyeing her over the rim of his wineglass.
    “Uh-huh.”
    “Tell me about this feature.”
    “Yours?” Her eyes held pure innocence.
    “No, Antonia,” he chided with a smile. “The one you had hoped to snag me for.”
    Nia suddenly realized that she had no wish to tell him about the feature. She had too many doubts about it herself. Not to mention embarrassment. “Oh,” she crinkled her nose, “you don’t really want to hear about it. After all, if you’re not interested in being part of it—”
    “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