Fast Courting (15 page)

Climactic was the word for it. Nia was grateful for the few minutes it took Dan to shower and dress, for they enabled her to let her appreciation gel.

“What did you think?” he asked, his arm around her shoulders as he walked her toward the car.

“I thought it was…impressive,” she admitted, downplaying her enthusiasm as a point of pride. Then she grew more sheepish. “Actually, I feel a little guilty. I guess I’ve unfairly maligned your game just because of what happened between …David and me.”

“Did it upset you…watching?”

“No, doctor,” she drawled.

“Not sorry you came?”

“No, doctor.” She hesitated then, thinking of David. “Did …did
my
presence disturb you?”

“Of course not!” he exclaimed, as though she were deranged for even suggesting as much. “It was nice to know you were there…waiting.” The catch in his voice and the corresponding sadness in his eyes seemed to fade as he seated her in the Datsun. She waited for him to slide behind the wheel in that remarkable way he had of tucking his long legs and body into the bucket seat in one smooth, seductive coil.

“Now where?” she asked, taking a deep breath to steady the sudden acceleration of her pulse.

“Shopping.”

“Oh? Anything special we’re looking for?” Whatever it was, she was game. Having just survived a remarkably pleasant two hours in none other than the arena watching the Breakers in practice, she was up for anything! Perhaps he needed new sneakers….

With a slow purr, the Datsun came to life. Beneath Daniel’s sure hand, it glided across the hardtop toward the exit. “I don’t know. What do
you
feel like? Better still,” he scowled in an expression of endearing bewilderment, “what do you feel like
making?
It’s your choice. You’re the cook.”

“Ahhhh—we’re going to the supermarket!”

He grinned. “And where else did you think we might go?”

“Who knows?” she teased him with a pert shrug. “You jock types always seem to need some little doohickey or another. You know, shoe laces, sweat bands—”

“Where
do
you pick up your information, Mrs. Phillips?” he cut in, taking mock offense. “I’ll have you know that in
our
league the team supplies everything. Do you know that one player’s contract even provides him with a Rolls Royce?”

“You’re kidding …!”

“If only I were! It’s getting absurd. Modern players have high-priced sports attorneys who negotiate their contracts. At the end of the negotiations, more often than not, the attorney turns to his client and asks him if there isn’t anything, some little something, that he’s always wanted but never had. Sometimes it’s a lifetime membership in an exclusive golf club, sometimes a house by the lake, sometimes—”

“—a Rolls Royce?”

“Right.”

“And what about you, Daniel? Did you ask for any of those things?”

“They weren’t offering things like that way back then.”

Nia chuckled. “It was only sixteen or seventeen years ago. And your last contracts had to have been negotiated more recently than that….”

“No, Nia. I wasn’t interested in that kind of frill. I took as much money as they thought I was worth, lived the modest existence that pleased me, gave my parents whatever I could and invested the rest.”

“And …?”

They reached a stop light and he turned to her. His features were calm, solemn. “And, as a result of those investments, I don’t have to work another day of my life. That kind of security pleases me, particularly since I’ve been able to have whatever material pleasures I’ve wanted as well.”

“Could you ever retire?” she asked, wondering how that fine mind could ever stagnate.

“From basketball? Yes. From work of any sort? No.”

“What
will
you do…when you leave basketball?” She recalled those courses he’d spoken of taking. “Something with your psychology?”

“Perhaps,” he stated soberly, then flicked the wheel and turned in at the market. But Nia had felt the stab of the future and it bothered her. No more was said on a personal note until they were back in the car headed in a direction far removed from Cambridge.

Nia put two and two together. “We’re going to your place?”

“You sound surprised. If you’d rather not…?”

“No, I’d love that, Dan! It’s just that your place is…the private you. I wasn’t sure you’d ever let me see it.”

Reading between the lines, he began to understand her surprise—almost. “I told you yesterday that I won’t question you on that again, Nia.” He spoke softly and very seriously. “I meant it. I do trust you.” Pausing, he grinned. “Besides, I believe you’ve already penetrated that private world. My house is its least important part.”

If the house was “its least important part,” it was a very beautiful one nonetheless. As she had guessed, he did live in Weston, about a ten-minute drive from the arena. His neighborhood was a new one, wooded, with an array of homes ranging in style from colonial and split-level ranch to contemporary. Daniel’s was of the latter type, set far back from the road and surrounded by a protective shield of pines and maples. Its huge glass panes reflected the verdure, blending the house into the landscape with remarkable success.

“What do you think?” he asked as they stepped from the car.

“I
hate
contemporary houses, but this isn’t bad!” she exclaimed with such sincerity that the first part of her statement was quickly forgotten.

Not only was the interior of the house equally impressive, with its heavy reliance on natural wood and living greenery, but the entire afternoon and evening were more enjoyable than Nia could have imagined.

For a while, in the dimming light of day, they walked through the forest of his seemingly endless backyard, talking quietly of small things, personal things, tidbits from their daily lives. Daniel learned that Nia loved cross-country skiing, eating artichokes, and reading travel magazines. Nia, in turn, discovered that Daniel loved canoeing along the Charles River, concerts on the Esplanade and imported ice cream.

Dinner was a collaborative effort that resulted in tender broiled lamb chops, fork-soft baked potatoes and fresh-buttered green beans, complemented from start to finish by the rich bouquet of a fine red wine. The only interruption was a call from Harlan McKay, which Dan quickly terminated. It was after dinner, however, that the real treat came. For it was then that Daniel showed her his den.

It was the most revealing of all the rooms. And it was the
last
thing she would have expected to find in the home of a professional athlete. But then, Daniel Strahan was no ordinary athlete. She had long since reached that conclusion. Indeed, he was no ordinary man.

The room in question was a masterpiece of rich and sturdy oak, lined with built-in floor-to-ceiling shelves filled with books, journals, research summaries, reprints and magazines—not a one dealing with the game of basketball.

“You’re serious about this, aren’t you?” she asked, eyeing the large stacks of material on the huge oak desk. Amazement gave her features a bright glow as she perused the room once more. “This isn’t exactly the study of a man taking a course in psychology here or there. My God, you’ve got the psych bulletins for the last ten years, every text I think I’ve ever seen and then some. Just what is the depth of your interest in all this?” she asked, turning to eye him with deepening suspicion. “Exactly what degree are you working toward?”

He seemed even taller than usual as he gazed down at her. His voice held its typical modesty. “I’m one course plus half a dissertation short of my Ph.D. in Clinical Psychology.”

Stunned, Nia could only shake her head in overwhelming admiration. “You’re incredible!”

“No, Nia. Not incredible. I’m simply working my way into a profession as millions of postgraduates do every year.”

“But you’ve
got
a profession—”

“A fleeting one, babe, and one that depends far too much on the body, which ages, and luck. When the body rebels from that daily battering, one coaches. When the luck runs out and the crowd starts to ‘boo,’ one retires. This,” he gestured broadly around the room, “is my retirement. It’s my future.”

She had a lot to think about that night after Daniel followed every rule of propriety and drove her home, saw her safely into her house and left. There was a depth to the man that commanded her respect. And each reference to the future brought a jitter to her stomach. If only she could pass him off as a simple acquaintance…but that was getting harder to do. She’d begun more and more to look forward to seeing him.

He had given her two tickets to Sunday’s game after she had confessed to Christopher Daly’s loyalty. “Why don’t you get him to drive you to the arena. Then you can come with me after the game.”

It worked out perfectly. Chris was overjoyed; not only were the seats precious for this, the Breakers’ fifty-sixth consecutive home sell-out, but they were four rows behind the Breaker bench. From Nia’s standpoint Chris was exactly the friendly face she needed to get her past that final barrier and into attendance at an actual Breakers game. While he cheered his heart out for the home team, Nia was free to watch Daniel, which she did to the exclusion of almost everything else. He was a study in concentration, pacing the sidelines at times, crouching courtside at others, his eye following everything, his expression sober. Wearing a white shirt and muted paisley tie, a navy blazer and light gray slacks, he was a dignified stand-out. Yet he spoke up when inspired, shouting at his men or a referee in that deep, commanding roar of his, pointing emphatically with a minibaton of rolled play diagrams. At regular intervals he would huddle with his team, instructing them in a particular tactic that his observation of the opposition had indicated. When he sent a player back onto the court, it was always with a reassuring pat on the back.

Unfortunately, despite his insightful efforts, the Breakers lost. Later, as Nia waited for him in his office, she prepared herself to console him. What she had expected was depression. What she found was a blend of physical and mental exhaustion. He didn’t say much, simply smiled, took her in his arms, and held her for a minute.

“Thanks for being here,” he murmured ambiguously, then said no more as they silently drove back to his house. Nia respected his feelings too much to intrude on them until he felt ready to share them. She found pleasure in fixing him steak and eggs while he relaxed on the living room sofa, gazing out at the woodlands beyond. After all, he did so much for her….

“Is it always this way—the losing?” she asked when he finally showed signs of revival.

His smile was sad but resigned. “It’s
always
this way.
Period
.”

“Even the
wins?”

“Even the wins.”

“That gruelling emotionally?”

“Every bit,” he sighed, shifting on the sofa to take her hand in his. His thumb gently caressed her wrist, pressing lightly against the life that filled her veins. “As the game goes on I can feel my body grow more and more tense. Everything on the outside has to be so controlled. Within, there’s always that emotion. I suppose it’s part of the excitement, the intensity. Without it I’d feel let down. But it
is
draining.” He shot her a crooked grin. “Just give me a minute. I’ll be my old self in no time.”

Nia knew only the warmth she felt. “I kind of like you this way once in a while,” she said, yielding to a spontaneous expression of her thoughts. “It’s nice to know that you’re human, too.”

“Oh, I’m human, all right.” His smile grew positively lascivious, leaving no doubt as to his meaning. His actual intent, however, was pure.

They spent the evening in quiet companionship, talking, playing chess, relaxing after the week’s stress. The last thing on Nia’s mind was the unpleasantness of the pending libel suit against her. She felt delightfully removed from the worries of the world. The phone rang only once—the customary interruption by Harlan McKay—and was fast forgotten.

Daniel’s tension, too, disappeared with the passing of the hours. He was loose and easy, a responsive companion. By evening’s end he had done nothing more than hold her, occasionally brushing his lips against her hair or cheek. Though her body betrayed her better judgment in its cry for fulfillment, she was grateful for the time he seemed willing to grant her. Things
had
happened quickly. She had barely known Daniel for a week.

In actuality she would have plenty of time to think. The Breakers were leaving on Monday night for the three-game road trip Daniel had already mentioned. Nia had expected it. She knew it was his life—and it was for the best. She’d already been involved in one disastrous sports-oriented relationship. Yet she couldn’t help but regret having to say good-bye.

“Here,” Daniel said, reaching into his breast pocket to extract a small piece of paper. “I want you to take this. It’s our itinerary. Hotel listings where we’ll be. Phone numbers. Flight information. If there are any problems here—if anything’s troubling you, I want you to call.”

Deeply touched by the gesture, Nia didn’t know what to say. He was just a friend and she certainly couldn’t burden him with her every problem. But he was good for her, getting her to talk things out. Even the Mahoney business, which lingered uncomfortably in the back of her mind, seemed less dreadful when shared with Daniel.

Moved by his thoughtfulness, she swallowed the lump in her throat. “I’m sure…everything will be all right. There shouldn’t be any—”

He stilled her with a finger on her lips. “Just take it,” he whispered. “For my peace of mind?”

As she closed her hand around the paper she knew that he wasn’t the only one whose peace of mind would be assured.

T
o Nia’s amazement, the week flew by. The rush at work, with her own trip to the Amish country set for the end of the week, was helpful in keeping her mind from the issue of the Mahoney hearing set for the Monday after. Daniel’s near nightly calls helped as well. Their talks occurred late, well after the game had ended, Daniel had grabbed something to eat, and returned to his room. He lay in bed as did she, and they shared the day’s happenings with an openness that would have startled her if she’d stopped to ponder it. But she didn’t. Her future with Daniel was too fragile for analysis, too elusive for comfort. One day at a time. That was all. Daniel never promised to call again. There was never any promise of a day or an hour. But Nia grew excited every time the phone rang, knowing that at that hour it would be him.

Having studied his travel schedule carefully, she made her own plans accordingly. Flying into Philadelphia early Thursday morning, she spent that day and Friday driving over the countryside west of the city, particularly the region of Lancaster County where the largest Amish colonies existed. By Friday night she was back in Philadelphia and checked into her motel to watch the game between the Breakers and the ’76ers in the privacy of her room.

Then the waiting began. She hadn’t told Daniel she’d be there, had been purposely vague about the details of her trip when she’d last spoken to him on Wednesday night. There was the fear in the back of her mind that he would be offended, even angry to learn that she had made her own reservations at the same motel in which the Breakers were staying. She had even coordinated her flight back early Saturday morning to mesh with that of the team. He could be furious. Had she done the right thing?

She waited until eleven o’clock, then called Dan’s room every ten minutes. It was eleven-thirty before there was finally an answer. As it had each time she’d dialed the extension, her heart raced. Now, at the sound of the deep, familiar, though clearly exhausted voice, it gave an added jump.

“Yes?” The team had won, yet he sounded defeated.

“Dan… ?” she began unsurely.

His voice picked up instantly, showering her with pleasure. “Nia! I just called your house! Where are you?”

“Uh…” she smiled with timidity at the moment of truth, “would you believe two floors above you?”

“Here? In Phillie?” He
did
sound pleased!

“Uh-huh.” Her heart beat even faster.

“But I thought you were flying back to Boston late this afternoon.”

“I had originally thought I might. But …I changed my mind. I thought it might be kind of fun…to be here tonight. I’m flying home tomorrow.”

“You did!” he exclaimed as though celebrating a private victory. The smile on his face came clearly over the line.

“Should I…could I…come down?” This was the hardest part; what did they do now?

“No!”
No?
“Stay there! I’m coming up. What’s your room number?”

She had no sooner hung up the phone and wiped the foolish grin from her face than his impatient knock shook the door. The grin reappeared and was returned in kind when she pulled the door open and stood looking at Daniel. He looked great! Tall…handsome…yes, tired…but happy. When he took her into his arms and held her she felt positively complete. Every bit of her anticipatory worry was forgotten amid the beauty of this moment.

“You are a sight for sore eyes,” he moaned, kissing her gently, then with mushrooming hunger.

“So are you,” she managed to gasp when he finally released her lips.

He kissed her again, compensating for the week’s abstinence. Nia savored the flavor of him, as she always did. His scent was uniquely Daniel, his body likewise. He was her home away from home and she was in no rush to leave. Indeed, had he stripped her naked and made fierce, forceful love to her, she would have clung to him ecstatically.

But he didn’t. He was a model of phenomenal self-control. As a coach, he was able to internalize his emotional involvement for the sake of his team, regardless of the effect that rigid control had on him. As a man, his determination was apparently no less strong. For whatever reasons, he had decided against taking his relationship with Nia beyond the point of no return. Now he moved her away from him.

“Let’s get out of here, babe, while I still have the willpower. I want to hear all about your trip.” He paused, his eyes pouring out his appreciation of her. “God, it’s good to see you here!”

The next few hours were spent in a small all-night eatery not far from the motel. It was far from elegant, far from immaculate, far from atmospheric, but there was nowhere else Nia would rather have been and no one else she would rather have been with.

She told Daniel about her sojourn among the Amish folk, those people who believed in separation from the world and neither swore, nor waged war, nor partied in politics. She had seen them working their farms with horses and plows, traveling their roads with horses and buggies. She had been in homes that boasted neither electricity nor telephone lines. She had seen bearded men with their wide-brimmed hats, bonneted women with their plain, long dresses and children who were black-garbed miniatures of their elders. She had spent time talking with those who were willing to open up to her, listening with fascination to their pure, clean, gentle speech. The simplicity of their lives was the antithesis of her own, though she wouldn’t have traded with them for the world.

Daniel, in turn, was easily coaxed into talking of the road trip, of a loss in New York, of wins in New Jersey the night before and again that night in Philadelphia. He spoke of the movie he had seen two nights before, of the reading he had done during an idle spell. The latter was an article from a psychology journal that presented the results of a new study on psychosomatic illness. They discussed it at length, with Nia offering her opinions to counter Daniel’s more professional ones.

It was nearly three in the morning when Daniel walked her back to her room. There she turned to face him, her eyes offering the silent invitation she couldn’t quite speak aloud. Daniel had no such qualms, however, despite the subtle tension in his jaw.

“No, babe. Not yet. You don’t really want that kind of involvement any more than I do.” He lifted his large fingers to gently stroke her cheek. “This has meant so much to me. Let’s be noble for a little while longer.”

Nia stared silently at him, knowing that what he said was right, though wondering why he was such a gentleman and half-wishing he were not.

With an unsteady breath, Daniel went on. “I’ll call you tomorrow morning to wake you up. Breakfast is at 8:00. OK?”

“You eat as a team?” she whispered with a hint of apprehension, wondering if she were to be suddenly popped on the Breakers …or vice versa. Daniel had neither in mind.

“We
eat as a team,
you
and
I,”
he qualified in a soft voice. “Any other questions?”

“Just one,” she began hesitantly, but had to know. “Are you at all…annoyed…that I showed up here?” Every aspect of his behavior had indicated the opposite, yet it deeply mattered to her to hear him say so.

In answer he captured her lips a final, punishing time. “Yes,” he growled, “I
am
annoyed. I’m going to have an even harder time sleeping alone tonight.”

“Then…why… ?” she burst out before she could help herself.

“Because I don’t want to feel guilty afterward,” he rejoined, tension and frustration colliding in his blunt response. “And that’s all I intend to say on the matter. Now, will you go in and go to bed?”

“Yes, Dan.” She smiled and shook her head in admiration. “Good night.”

“Good night, babe.”

Her reflections soon gave way to sweet dreams of what had been that night and what might have been had Daniel belonged to a different world. Suppose he had a “steady” job, one that allowed him a wife, a home, a family. Suppose he had not been involved with pro basketball—but then he would not be the Daniel Strahan she loved. No, not loved, she assured herself. Liked. Appreciated. Maybe even idolized. But loved? Not again. Not so quickly. And
certainly
not a basketball man! No, she had been through the inferno once; now she was shy of the flames. Daniel was right;
he was right!
Much as she ached for it, physical involvement would only complicate things for them both. And
that
she didn’t want, particularly with the deposition-taking around the corner and approaching fast.

True to his word, Daniel woke her from sleep the next morning with a low, husky-voiced hello. They met in the coffee shop for breakfast, then later at the airport, to which Dan had had to travel with his team, if for no other reason than to make sure they all made it. For the first time he was grateful that only the players traveled first class, leaving the coach, assistant coaches, and other team personnel to fly economy. It gave Nia and Dan that much more time together, though the flight to Boston was regrettably brief. Only once was their quiet company broken—by the very man who had the knack of doing just that, Harlan McKay. The team owner accepted an introduction to Nia in a distinctly bothered manner. In turn, Nia’s response was instinctively wary.

“Don’t mind him,” Daniel reassured her when they were alone once again. “I think he’s jealous.”

“Of
what?”
she clipped back, having been hurt by Harlan’s brusqueness.

“Of
you
, babe. I’ve been putting him off in favor of you lately. It’ll take him a little time to adjust, but he’ll come around. You’ll see.” She couldn’t quite see, but neither did she care at that moment, for Daniel brushed a light kiss on her lips, making her forget all else. Harlan McKay’s scowl as he saw them was missed by them both.

Indeed, Daniel seemed bent on protecting Nia, on keeping her mind averted from any unpleasantness, be it Harlan’s strange jealousy or the upcoming deposition. He spent most of the weekend with her, leaving her only to attend a short meeting and practice on Saturday and then, of course, the game against Detroit on Sunday afternoon. During those times Nia worked at his house, not through any reluctance to see either the practice or the game, but rather because of the sheer necessity of doing her own work. Saturday she reviewed the notes she’d taken on her trip, organizing them while they were still fresh in her mind, writing several preliminary passages for her article. Sunday she reviewed the files on the Mahoney case, which she had taken home from the office before she’d left for Pennsylvania. It was imperative that she be sure of her facts, facts concerning the gathering of her background information, the verification of that information, her attempts to personally interview Jimmy Mahoney—to no avail—and the actual writing of the article. Daniel could spare her vexation only so far; beyond that she was on her own. Though he was a marvelous source of both encouragement and distraction, she was tense nonetheless when he finally took her home on Sunday night.

“Everything will be fine,” he assured her, imparting his strength to her through his arms, his entire body. “Will you give me a call when it’s over? We’re playing Golden State tomorrow night, but I should be home until 4:45.”

“I’ll call,” she agreed readily, wishing that he could be by her side during the ordeal. But that was not the nature of their relationship. It was not his responsibility. She was only grateful that he was there on the sidelines, her very good friend who often seemed like so, so much more….

Though she had expected the worst, the deposition was a relatively mild ordeal. It was held in the office of Jimmy Mahoney’s personal attorney, with Nia, Bill, Bruce McHale and the counsel for
Eastern Edge
in attendance. It consisted of each of the co-defendants being questioned by the plaintiff’s attorney, their responses duly recorded by a stenographer. It took no more than two hours. By noon Nia was back at her desk.

“I told you it wouldn’t be all that bad,” Daniel chided her, having picked up the phone after one short ring.

“It really was surprisingly civil,” she returned, amazed that it had been so and much more relaxed now, having heard Daniel’s deep voice. “But I hope it wasn’t deceptive. He could really lash out now. You can never tell with these political animals.”

“Come on, Antonia, don’t ask for trouble. For all you know it might fade into nothing. It’s always possible that, having taken your deposition, his attorney will advise against the proceedings. After all, there was no malice of intent.”

“I
know that and
you
know that, but Jimmy Mahoney may try to prove otherwise.”

“Well,” he sighed, “there’s no point in worrying about that now. Austen and McHale are right in there with you. They’ll let you know what’s happening.” He paused. “Are you still planning to go to Vermont tomorrow?”

With a deep breath, Nia allowed the shift of subject. “Yup. Reiss is expecting me by eleven. I’ve already done some of the preliminary research on him, and I’ll do a little more this afternoon. With a three-hour drive each way, I’m not eager to make the trip more than once if I can help it.”

“You’re sure you don’t mind the driving? I don’t like the idea of you alone in a car for six hours.”

“Look at it this way,” she teased him softly, “if I’m alone I can’t get into any trouble.”

“Nia, you know what I’m talking about.”

“I know, Dan. And, believe me, I do appreciate it.” It had been a long time since anyone had worried about her. But as gratifying as the thought was, it was also frightening. To grow dependent on such concern only to have it withdrawn…Her eyes clouded momentarily, then cleared. “I’ll be OK. I’ve got towing coverage in case the car gives me any trouble. And the trip will be broken up for those few hours in the middle.”

“You’ll come directly here on the way back?”

They had already discussed the possibility, though at the time Nia had only said she’d consider it.

“I will,” she agreed, knowing she was getting in deeper but unable to stop herself. She was already looking forward to seeing him. Tomorrow evening seemed like such a long way off. “I may not be there until six. Is that OK?”