reporters lined the front of press row, talking into cameras and mics. Her heart ratcheted up to an impossible rate. Over half the press seats were taken, laid claim by jackets and bags. Most of the reporters stood on the sidelines, hoping for two minutes from one of the players in warm-up suits shooting on the court.
Charles Butler led passing drills in the middle of the gym, but held up a second to flash a peace sign at her. She was just as surprised as the other reporters, who craned their necks to see who the star had acknowledged. Her lips curved up in a smile but he’d already turned back to his team.
“You know the big guy, huh?” A short, ginger-headed thirty-something with a woolly beard and big eyes stood next to her on the edge of the court. He held a recorder in one meaty hand, the other jammed into a pocket of his chinos. He had the face for print.
“I met him at Connor O’Donnell’s last night.”
He nodded at her press pass. “You’re a reporter?”
“Uh, yes. Newspaper on the West Coast.” It took her a second, but when she was able to get it out, she said it with confidence.
He tilted his head, a curious, hairy bird. “There was press at O’Donnell’s party last night?”
“I was the only one. I think.” She pushed her glasses up her nose. “I had an interview with Charles.”
Am I bragging? I think I am.
A flare of emotion lit up his face, bulged out his eyes, but his voice was steady. “Huh. That’s interesting.” He reached out a hand. “I’m Eddie. I cover the team for the Boston paper. I’ve been trying to get face time with Butler for over a year.”
She shook his hand, her stomach twisting. Gloating had led to insulting the first big-time reporter she had met. “It kinda came out of the blue. The organization got Charles to agree to do an interview, and then held a writing contest to assign a writer. I won.” Her laugh was self-deprecating.
“Huh. Interesting,” Eddie said again. “I entered that contest.” He jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “Every one of these guys sent in articles, trying for that interview. You must be good.”
Before the scintillating conversation could go further, there was a shout behind her.
“Watch out!”
As she turned, a ball heading for her face changed course at the last second, swatted away by a large hand. She felt the tips of the fingers brush her nose before she had a chance to step back.
Derek Darcy. Panting. He’d obviously sprinted to her rescue.
She adjusted her glasses, which had been knocked askew. “Thank you.” She had no other words. The last time she’d seen him, he’d had his dream hand between her dream thighs.
His copper eyes gleamed with annoyance, his real hands on his hips. “You’re the reporter, right? Hara?” At her slow nod, he said, “Well, if you can’t pay attention, you shouldn’t be doing this job. You can’t afford too many more blows to the head.”
Before she could stop herself, she said, “I’m sorry.” But then she straightened her back and glared at him. “I appreciate your efforts, but you don’t have to be rude.”
He grunted and loped away, the muscles in his back working as he scooped up the ball and flung it to a teammate. Luckily, he was paying attention.
It was hard to break her stare. Her subconscious had decided this jerk was the best choice for a sex dream? She bit her lip as he practiced a jump shot, every muscle in his legs, thighs, and ass taut. Her brain wanted a kind, smart man but apparently her stupid lady parts were hoping for a long, sweaty visit from Mr. Muscles. As long as he didn’t talk.
CHAPTER 7
There is a stubbornness about me that never can bear to be frightened at the will of others. My courage always rises at every attempt to intimidate me.
—Pride and Prejudice
She couldn’t believe it. The game was over. The plays had been nonstop, with no time to breathe. Every time Hara glanced down to make a note, she missed something. She’d started writing without looking; the transcription was going to take a lot of guesswork.
The mood in the stands behind her was sour.
Boston had lost by two points. A heartbreak, so close right up until the bitter end. Then, in the last few seconds, Derek bungled a pass from Charles and that was it. The game was done. Too bad, too, because