Mac laughed. ?That?s quite alright, Catherine. As you probably already guessed, one of the reasons we?re here is to get to know a little bit about you as a person. The woman behind the basketball player, in other words.?

Hodge?s face fell. ?Oh. I guess I didn?t do so well in that department,? she said, more to herself than to her two visitors.

Mac shot Dylan a ?this one?s all yours? look. Dylan rolled her eyes and leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. ?That?s not necessarily true.?

Hodge?s normally vibrant eyes were dull and clouded. ?No? From where I?m standing it is. I mean, a professional basketball team goes out of its way to send its head coach?who also happens to be somewhat of an idol of mine?and its general manager here to evaluate my personality. And here I am in yesterday?s clothes, probably stinking like stale smoke and cheap booze, caught in my room with a woman whose name I don?t even know. If this doesn?t go down in the record books as the worst first impression in history, I?m not sure what will.?

Dylan chuckled. ?Well, I?ll admit that it isn?t the best one you could have made, no. But even under an enormous amount of pressure, you?ve managed to acquit yourself surprisingly well. And that?s the kind of player we?re looking for. Someone who doesn?t crumble when the going gets tough. That kind of person won?t lead a team to the championship.?

Hodge stared at her, wide-eyed.

?Besides, I get the impression that whatever happened here wasn?t a routine thing.?

Hodge couldn?t help but laugh a little. ?You?ve got that right.?

Dylan?s gaze softened, as did her tone. ?We all make mistakes. It?s how we learn. How you respond to those mistakes is what counts with me. And frankly, I think you responded pretty well.?

?Really?? The awe was back in Hodge?s voice, but this time, she didn?t feel embarrassed.

Dylan smiled. ?Really.? Shooting a quick glance to Mac, she stood. ?We?ll see you at pre-draft camp, then??

A radiant grin lit Hodge?s face. ?You bet!?

Reaching out, Dylan gently clasped Hodge?s hand in her own. ?It was very nice to have met you, Catherine. Thanks for letting us talk to you.?

Reveling in the warmth of the large hand, Hodge looked up and was caught in the mesmerizing blue of Dylan?s eyes. ?No,? she breathed. ?Thank you.?

With a final nod, Dylan released the handclasp, and with a look, collected Mac. A moment later, both were gone, leaving a completely stunned Catherine Hodges staring at the now closed door and cradling her hand against her chest.

Mac managed to make it to the rental car before he collapsed, laughing so hard tears sprung into his eyes. Dylan patted him companionably on the back as choked out the last of his hysteria.

?Oh my god,? he wheezed. ?Did you see the look on her face when she opened the door?? The memory sent him off into another gale of laughter.

Dylan could only roll her eyes and wait out the storm.

When Mac was finally able to loosen his cramped stomach muscles enough to lean back in the seat, he wiped his eyes with the sleeve of his shirt and turned to Dylan. ?You know, if Johnson was with us, that would have been the end of any dream you might have had of drafting her.?

?Johnson isn?t with us, and he?s not gonna hear about this. Ever.?

Mac nodded. ?Not from me. Mum?s the word.? Somehow, that set off another laughing spell.

Shaking her head, Dylan started the car and shifted into reverse. ?Let?s just get the hell out of here before you have a stroke.?

And so they went.

Hodge stood in the sidelines with the rest of the women chosen to show what they could do in hopes of finding a spot with the Birmingham Badgers or one of the other pro teams present.

The camp was in its third day, and Hodge was looking forward to actually playing some basketball. The previous days had had the young women poked, pricked and prodded, weighed and measured, and generally treated like prime horseflesh. She?d run windsprints till it felt as if her lungs were going to exit through her ears, covered two miles in a very respectable time, and had shown off her vertical leaping abilities like some sort of demented kangaroo.

Today was the day to show what she could do on the court, and she was awaiting it with eager anticipation. She made sure to check everyone out, sizing up the competition. Seven other point guards had been invited to attend the pre-draft camp, including Hodges? nemesis, Keisha Brown of the Stanford Cardinal. Topping Hodge in height, weight and attitude, Keisha was a woman who believed her own hype. And, early in the season when Brown was selected by most to go first in the draft, that hype seemed well founded.

Hodge?s late stretch run, however, cast what was once a certainty into the deep shadows of doubt.

Moving a bit away from the rest, Hodge began her warm up routine, every now and then casting what she hoped were covert glances toward the bench area, where Dylan and Mac stood. Dylan appeared to be in full ?head coach? mode; focused and intent on the job at hand.

Which was fine with Hodge, since she knew from previous experience that if their glances so much as crossed, she?d be reduced to a blushing schoolgirl once again. And that wouldn?t do at all. After their near disastrous and completely embarrassing first meeting she decided that it was absolutely imperative that she concentrate entirely on the tryout. She had to prove to The Goddess that her decision to ask her to compete was not a bad one.

Of course, she had made a solemn vow never to be caught in a situation like that again. Even if it meant given up women forever. Well, maybe forever was a bit of a stretch, but at least until Pallas Dylan Lambert and the Birmingham Badgers were out of her life.

Decision made, Hodge hit her warm up routine with gusto, stopping only when she felt a presence looming over her. She straightened, looking up into the dark, flashing eyes of Keisha Brown.

?I seen you eyeballing Lambert over there, shorty. Just keep lookin?, girl, cause that?s the closest you?re ever gonna get.?

Hodge easily stood her ground. ?Think so, huh??

Brown beamed. ?Oh, honey, I know so.? With that, Brown moved swiftly by, making sure to slam Hodge hard with her shoulder as she passed.

The whistle blew, and the camp?s directors filed out onto the court, basketballs in hand.

?Okay ladies, listen up. Now?s your chance to show our esteemed guests what you?re really made of.?

Hearty cheering echoed through the gymnasium.

?First up are shooting drills. When I call your name, go to the ball racks and start shooting. One shot per rack. The whistle will tell you when time?s up. Good luck. Brown! You?re up.?

Hodge took in a deep breath to settle the butterflies in her stomach. Looking around, she could see other women wiping sweating palms on their shorts and shifting nervously foot to foot, anxious to prove their worth to the coaches. Perversely, this made the butterflies in her own stomach vanish entirely.

When her turn came, Hodge trotted up to the first rack and began shooting without an ounce of nervousness.

Dylan took a seat courtside, rather than in the benches set aside for the staff members. She wanted to watch the women play, not sit around and talk about what color new Mercedes some half-assed coach had just bought with a bonus they didn?t deserve. She was here to do a job, not schmooze and eat the free buffet.

The recruiting class was a good one, chock full of talent at all positions. While Dylan carefully scrutinized each woman, right down to her shoe size, she made no bones about the fact that one player in particular drew her interest.

?So that?s Super Girl, huh??

Dylan had the good sense to roll her eyes and keep her groan to herself before she turned around to face Horace Johnson, the owner of the Badgers. A shade under six feet tall, he fashioned himself a JR Ewing type, right down to the Stetson. His protuberant belly hung listlessly over his belt, and his suit jacket was a size too small. The cologne he all but bathed in was enough to raise the dead, and Dylan found herself stifling a sneeze.

?That?s her.?

?She?s short.? Johnson observed, past the toothpick he was chewing because his damn doctor told him to quit smoking.

?She compensates for that with her abilities.?

?She?s young.? He plucked the toothpick from his mouth and made a sucking noise through his teeth that made Dylan want to slap him.

?No younger than anyone else here, and older than a few.?

?She?s queer.

Dylan dropped her head then looked back up at the man, sighing softly before speaking. ?She?s gay. And that has no impact on her ability to play basketball.?

?Don?t like queers.?

?I don?t imagine they?re real fond of you either.? Dylan mumbled.

?What??

?I said it shouldn?t matter. Her talent is amazing and if you want me to give you a winning team, you?ll let me draft her.?

Squinting his beady, close-set eyes, Johnson made a show of examining the young woman in question.

?Make you a deal, then.?

Dylan tried not to look annoyed. ?What??

?I?ll let you draft the little Sodomite on two conditions.?

Dylan looked over to Mac, who was standing out of the line of fire. Mac shrugged. Dylan glared at him, then returned her attention to the owner. ?And they are??

?First, you?re completely responsible for her behavior. I don?t want her caught in some queer nightclub and I sure as hell don?t want her marching in any gay pride parades.?

?And number two??

?I want you to go out with Hunter Locke again. This team gets damn fine publicity when you two go out together.?

Dylan’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “Since when did I become your corporate whore, Horace?”

The toothpick rolled again. “Why, since the day you signed my contract, darlin. You want that queer little filly in your stable, you gotta put out. Got to give me what I need.”

“And a championship isn’t enough for you?”

Johnson hooked his thumbs through his belt and pretended to think on it. “Nope. Guess it isn’t.”

As he turned to her, her fists closed against the urge to slap that smirk off his face.

“So, we got a deal?”

Dylan gritted her teeth. “Fine.”

Johnson sniffed, trying to give a superior air that he didn?t have. It was all Dylan could do to keep from quitting her job, punching him in the nose and ramming her booted foot up his ass, not necessarily in that order.

She was very relieved when he jammed his toothpick back in his mouth left the gym, in search of his free meal.

?Asshole.? She mumbled as she turned her attention back to the court.

Mac quietly slid up next to her. ?Well, that went well, huh??

Dylan gave him a look hot enough to smelt metal.

?Or not,? Mac replied, swallowing hard and scratching the back of his neck. ?I?m?just gonna?.? His voice trailed off as he gestured weakly toward the stands where the others were sitting.

?You do that.?

Hodge listened carefully as one of the camp directors explained the three-on-three drill. The large group had been split into teams of three, two forwards and a guard. They?d play a half court game to eleven points, one point per basket. Four games would go on simultaneously on the two courts.

When the director called out the names for the first two teams, Keisha Brown smirked. ?You and me, shorty. You and me. You?re goin? down, Kitty Cat.?

Hodge didn?t let the use of her nickname bother her. Nor did she so much as flinch when Brown rifled the ball into her belly from less than three feet away. Instead, she grinned, gathered her teammates around her, and planned a strategy for the game.

The two teams were very evenly matched, and after twenty minutes, the score was tied, 10 ? 10. Keisha, ball in hand, smirked at Hodge. ?Take a look at this face, baby. It?s gonna be famous.?

The whistle blew, and Brown shot a pass over Hodge?s head to one of her forwards. Hodge?s teammates closed quickly, guarding against an easy shot. The forward passed the ball back to Brown, who dribbled it easily, still smirking.

Faking to her left, Brown went right with a lazy, over-confident stride. Hodge waited, backing slowly up and watching the ball like a hawk. Then, using a quickness startling to anyone who didn?t know her well, her left hand darted out and tipped the ball away. Stepping easily around Brown, she gained possession of the ball and brought it back to half court.

A nod, and her teammates went into motion. As Brown, teeth grit tight in anger, came up to guard, Hodge dribbled once, then passed to the forward cutting across the top of the key. The forward stopped, turned, and shot, but the ball bounced off the rim and into an opposing player?s hands.