The Love Triangle. Nic Tatano

see the Jets do well. A subway Super Bowl would be seriously cool, even though it wouldn’t be in New York.”

      “Season tickets, huh? So what’s your take on the team? The Giants, I mean.”

      She relaxed a bit, the business part of the conversation apparently over. Her new client was happy, and obviously liked to talk. She gave him her opinion on the Giants, then the conversation segued to football announcers, TV shows, movies, politics, why she got into PR, how he became an agent. The conversation was easy and flowed, like she was talking to an old friend. She picked up her iPad and did a search of his name, hoping to find a photo to see the face behind the voice.

      The search turned up nothing but a plain business website with pictures of his clients. No photos of him.

      Her phone beeped. “Hang on a minute, Kyle.”

      “Sure.”

      She looked at her phone expecting to see an incoming call, but instead found a low battery warning. “Hey, my cell is about to die. Guess we’ve been talking awhile.” She looked at the clock and her eyes widened. “Like, an hour and a half. You give good phone.”

      He laughed. “Never heard that one before. I enjoyed talking to you too. Anyway, I’m sure I’ll have more work for you in the future if you’re up for more stuff with athletes.”

      “Thanks, I appreciate that. Would love to sit down with you in person.”

      “It will probably be awhile. I travel a lot this time of year and only manage to get home a day at a time. I’m back Friday night and out first thing Sunday morning. But we’ll get together eventually.”

      “Look forward to it.” The phone beeped twice, telling her it was about to die. “Okay, my cell is about to flatline, so, bye.”

      “Thanks again, Lexi.”

      The phone went dead.

      She got up, put her phone back on the charger and headed for the kitchen to get some celebratory Häagen Dazs rum raisin with the obligatory extra splash of rum. She couldn’t help but smile. Her agency was off life support for the moment, a Greek god wanted to take her to dinner (well, maybe) and she’d made a new friend out of a client.

      All was right in the universe.

      At least for now.

       CHAPTER THREE

      Though still bleary-eyed Saturday morning after taking the Friday red-eye from California, Kyle needed to shake off his jet lag at the gym. Shooting hoops for an hour or so and an afternoon nap would hopefully regulate his body clock before his next trip. He stopped at the desk to check out a basketball and heard the rhythmic thump from the court. “Is there actually a game going on at this hour?”

      The shaggy clerk, who looked to be about eighteen, shook his head. “Just a young woman, but that’s it. You can each have a half court. I’ll be right back with a ball.”

       A young woman?

      He walked across the hall, looked through the plexiglass down at the court and saw the little redhead hitting shot after shot.

       I’m gonna get my ass kicked again. Then again, maybe this time I can get her number…

      He moved back to the desk as the clerk handed him a basketball. He wrote his name on the sign-out sheet, then looked at the clerk as he cocked his head at the court. “By the way, you know her name?”

      “Sir, I can’t give out that information.”

      “Sure, I understand.”

      “But she’s very nice.”

      He took a quick look at the sloppy signature above his. It looked like Alexandra followed by a scribble. He headed down the stairs to the basketball court and found her sitting on the bench, dripping with sweat, sipping a bottle of water. She looked up and smiled. “Well, look who’s here. Back for a re-match?”

      He pretended to study her face for a moment. “I’m sorry, I don’t believe we’ve met.”

      She laughed. “Very funny. It’s Kasey, right?”

      “Yeah. And I still don’t know your name.” He noticed a light jacket with monogrammed initials draped over her gym bag and pointed at it. “Ah, but it begins with A.”

      She nodded. “Very perceptive, Columbo. You’ve narrowed it down.”

      “Wait, don’t tell me… Amy?”

      “Nope.”

      “Agatha?”

      She furrowed her brow and pointed to her face. “Do I look eighty years old to you?”

      “Sorry. Actually about fifty-five years younger.”

      “Hang on, let me do the math… eighty minus fifty-five… zero minus five, borrow the one… why thank you, kind sir.”

      “You’re welcome. But back to your name… you look like you’d have something really classy.”

      She pointed at her face. “This sweaty mug looks classy to you?”

      “Women don’t sweat, they glow.”

      “Yeah, and I’m glowin’ like Secretariat.”

      “Anyway, back to your name… Alexandra?”

      Her eyes widened. “Damn, you’re good.”

      “Really, that’s it?”

      She nodded. “Yep. Mom wanted a boy and was going to name him Alex, so Alexandra was the next best thing.”

      “So, do friends call you Alex? I hope not because I think Alexandra suits you better.”

      “Nope.” She grabbed a towel and wiped her face. “You can totally call me Alexandra if you like.”

      “I like.”

      “Well, I’m about done here, but if you’re up for a little one-on-one, I’m game.”

      “Why, you need to start your weekend beating the hell out of a guy?”

      “Thought you might be one of those alpha males who hates losing to a woman and needs to get even.”

      “Nah, I’m one of those renaissance men who treats women as equals. Though in your case I will admit you’re better than me at one thing.”

      “Just one?”

      “So far that’s the only thing we have to go on. I’m willing to bet I’m better at something than you are.”

      She sat up straight. “What? Shooting pool? Poker? Let’s rock.”

      “Planning a date.”

      “Excuse me?”

      “I’m an expert at planning fantastic dates.”

      “So, you’re saying you’re a great date?”

      “You might not fall in love with me, but women are always entertained when I take them out. I’m a Jedi date master. I’m sure you couldn’t possibly beat me planning the ultimate fun date.”

      She backed up a bit. “You asking me out?”

      He shrugged. “Depends.”

      “Depends? On what?”

      “If you think you’re better than me at planning a date.”

      “So what exactly are you proposing?”

      “Two dates. We each plan one. Then decide which was the most enjoyable.”

      “I must admit, I have not run into this clever