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attempted to tame my wild hair. “You ready?”
    “For you? Always.”
    I shook my head and shot off my first question. I expected him to drop his towel, but he surprised me by staying covered. In fact, he remained in his towel for the entire interview and answered every question without any sexual innuendos. Maybe my hazing was over.
    After the camera shut off, I couldn’t resist. “Thank you for staying somewhat dressed today.”
    “It was really hard to do.”
    I chuckled as I packed away my microphone and notepad. “So, is it over? The hazing, I mean. I noticed you didn’t get naked with Sandra either today. Is that your thing, you treat the new female reporters to full-frontal nudity to embarrass them the first few weeks?”
    “Seeing me naked was a treat. I knew it.”
    “Your head is so big, I’m surprised you can get a helmet on it.”
    He grinned. “Big head. Big helmet.”
    “How has no one filed a sexual harassment complaint against you with the league yet?”
    He shrugged. “I don’t do this with anyone else.”
    My eyes narrowed. “You mean Sandra has never experienced the towel routine during an interview?”
    “Nope.”
    “Well, aren’t I the lucky one?”
    “You are. Have dinner with me?”
    “No.”
    “No?” I sort of loved that he was shocked to be turned down.
    “That’s right. No.”
    “Why?”
    “I don’t date players.”
    “You went out with that kicker from the Saints last year.”
    “I said I don’t date players , not I don’t date athletes.”
    For once, Brody Easton didn’t have a witty comeback. I walked away, then stopped and turned back. “By the way, researching my dating history? Creepy. Your balls are definitely going down to the basement.”
     
    ***
     
    I took the earliest commercial flight on Monday morning, rather than the late-afternoon team flight home. Mr. CUM didn’t care that I was halfway across the country; he still expected me to be at his mandatory Monday meetings.
    When I arrived at JFK, a corporate town car picked me up at the airport, and I headed directly to the office. We made it less than a mile before we were stopped dead in traffic. I reached into the equipment duffle bag I’d carried on the plane to take out my notepad. A slash of black marker caught my eye. Brody Easton’s name was scribbled on the ball, but something was written above it.
    I’d really like to fuck you. 212-538-0321
    I shook my head. Then I reached down for the other ball. I flipped it over and found:
    Stop shaking your head. You know you want to.
    I was a little turned on. And a lot pathetic.

Chapter 6
     
    Delilah
    “The Steel just announced a news conference on Tuesday at ten. Rumor is, Tyrell Oden has a more serious injury than originally anticipated, and they’re going to announce a mid-season trade.”
    Luckily, the writer next to me kicked me under the table to get my attention.
    “Sorry. Can you repeat that?”
    Mr. CUM huffed.
    I felt the need to make an excuse. “I was going over some interview questions in my head.”
    “Your head should be in this meeting. And eyes on me.”
    I nodded, and he proceeded to tell me about the news conference, presumably for a second time.
    “Already registered,” I said.
    “Good.” He sighed. “Now that we have Ms. Maddox’s mind back on the news, why don’t we chat about Brody Easton.”
    Ummm. That was where my mind had been. I just couldn’t seem to shake the jackass from my thoughts. “Okay.”
    “Phil Stapleton wants a sit-down with Easton for his weekly show. You seem to have established some sort of rapport with him. I saw him toss a ball your way after a touchdown yesterday.”
    Two balls. Ones that were in a duffle bag in my office and read, I’d really like to fuck you , to be exact. And I was pitifully hard-up in the romance department, because the thought of him wanting me had me shifting in my chair.
    “I’ve interviewed him a few times, yes. Although I’m not sure you’d label our