False Start by Barbara Valentin Read Free Book Online Page A

anywhere since, well, you know."
    That he had actually looked for her byline caught her quite by surprise. Just as she made up her mind to take it as a compliment, he added, "I assumed you went into hiding or something. For a while there, I assumed the worst. I mean, why else wouldn't you have returned my calls? Especially when you knew you were the only thing standing between me and a stint in jail."
    He stared hard at her, but still Mattie didn't react.
    So much for keeping the past in the past.
    Nick leaned forward, rested his elbows on his knees, clasped his hands together, and continued, "Now I don't know what you're getting out of this little arrangement, but whatever it is, neither one of us is gonna get what we want if we don't play nice."
    With his face dangerously close to hers, he raised an eyebrow and asked, "Got it?"
    Mattie raised her own eyebrow. "That depends. Define 'play nice.'"
    "It means you gotta trust me. Completely."
    His breath smelled of cinnamon and felt warm against her parted lips.
    Like hell I do.
    She met his gaze. "Don't hold your breath."
    At that, Nick leaned back in the chair and shrugged. "Suit yourself. We can do this the hard way."
    Standing up, he continued, "Meet me at our old field house at six tomorrow morning. We have a lot to go over, and," his gaze dropped to the hole in her dress, "I'm gonna have to assess you, so don't be late."
    With a quick wink, he turned and left Mattie alone in her cubicle, pondering the directive.
    Whatever you say, Coach.

CHAPTER THREE
     
    "Ice cream is exquisite. What a pity it isn't illegal."
    – Voltaire
     
    Later that evening, Mattie rushed to an urgent care facility located just off of Chicago's Magnificent Mile for a fast physical. The doctor's parting words rang in her ears all the way home.
    The funny little man with a curious, indiscernible accent looked at her over his reading glasses when he told her, "Your BMI should not exceed your age. I can recommend a good nutritionist."
     "Just sign the form," she retorted.
    He begrudgingly pulled a pen from the pocket in his white lab coat and made an undecipherable scribble. "Take better care of yourself, Mathilde, and you'll live a nice long life."
    As soon as his pen left the paper, she grabbed the form from him and headed for the door. At Dianne's urging, she stepped into an upscale sporting goods store down the block. Her eyes widened as she stepped through the doors. Bright lights, lots of chrome, and every color of the rainbow on the racks of clothes and shoes.
    She stood agape, wondering where to start when a middle-aged man, looking like he could bench press a semitrailer truck, approached her.
    "Can I help you?"
    Mattie stared at him, waiting for the words to form in her brain. "Running clothes."
    The man looked amused. "Yeah?"
    Her eyes scanned his nametag. "Tell me, Roy . Do you work on commission at this store?"
    A cautious grin spread across his pockmarked face. "You betcha."
    "Oh good. I'll be sure to find someone else to help me then." She slipped away, leaving the clueless Roy in her wake.
    Unable to tell the men's section from the women's, she instead went in search of hot pink pieces of clothing and found a rack of long-sleeved shirts. After an exhaustive search for an extra large, she realized she was in over her head and decided, against her better judgment, to call Claudia.
    She worked her way to a less populated area of the store and dialed her number. As soon as her sister picked up, Mattie regretted her decision.
    "What? I can barely hear you. Why in the world are you shopping for running clothes?"
    "I got a new assignment, Claud."
    "Uh-huh. And what about a raise? Did you ask about that?"
    Mattie let out an exasperated sigh before responding, "Yes, I did. I'll get it when I complete the assignment."
    "Which is…?" Claudia pried.
    Standing up straight, Mattie took another deep breath and announced louder than she intended so as to be heard over the store's booming stereo