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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.