The Total Package by Stephanie Evanovich Page B

a miracle. She changed the color of her hair from chestnut to highlighted blond. Next to go was her wardrobe. She studied the girls who were already in the biz and piece by piece started buying similar clothes. She gave up the glasses in favor of contact lenses. And her mother cheered her on as she did so. She even shushed her father when he bemoaned his disapproval after she changed her name to Dani Carr.
    “But she’s a Carrino,” he said, pouting.
    “Demo,” Danza chided her husband. “She wants to compete in a man’s world. She thinks a more masculine name gives her an advantage. It’s like a stage name. She’ll always be a Carrino.”
    “She sure doesn’t look like a man. Some of those sweaters are pretty tight,” Papa grumped in fatherly fashion.
    By the time she submitted her first application, Dani had come to several conclusions. She didn’t just want to make it in a man’s world. She wanted to infiltrate what she decided was more of a misogynistic boys’ club.
    After her first interview with the Philadelphia affiliate of CBS, she was sure of it.
    The timing was perfect. Women were being hired at an alarming rate to satisfy the now-public outcry for less sexism in sports broadcasting roles.
    She got a job as the fourth-level sideline reporter. It was really more of a glorified internship. Her responsibilities would mostly entail feeding stats to the woman who had already paid her dues and the boys in the booth. It didn’t even guarantee her airtime.
    But Dani Carr had arrived. The job fueled the dream of once again meeting up with Tyson Palmer. But she couldn’t spend too much time dreaming; she still had lots of work to do. Most of it was an uphill battle.
    Dani learned to ignore blatant sexist remarks and catcalls. She stiffened her spine when people insinuated that she didn’t know a damn thing about football because she’d never played. She got good at judging whose stupid jokes she needed to laugh at, even when her first instinct would be to introduce her knee to their inseam. By Brendon’s second birthday she was being courted by an agent and offered a second-level position.
    The Mavericks had become a hot ticket, thanks in part to their recently redeemed quarterback. Dani had moved up the ranks and now had the privilege of being fed live to the “good ole boys” in the studio. It was one step closer to her final objective, breaking up the all-male posse that sat in the comfort of the studio discussing matchups and sharing well-calculated predictions. She knew what she wanted to accomplish was daunting at best, but she was also willing to put in the time. The boys back in the studio, unaware of her final goal, actually had begun to respect her knowledge. When broadcasting was ahead of schedule and there was airtime to spare, it wasn’t uncommon for them to engage her for several minutes about her interpretation of the game’s high and low points, which in and of itself was a major coup. It was then Dani started thinking that maybe, just maybe, she might be able to have it all.
    Three weeks later, she was told she was going to Boston to cover the Blitz-Mavericks game. As soon as she found out, her heart started to pitter-patter in an all too familiar way. She worked herself up with the fantasy that after his initial shock, Tyson would apologize for his behavior that fateful night. She would forgive him because that’s what people did when they loved someone. And then, once she knew he was truly healthy and worthy, Dani would tell him about their son.
    By the time the Blitz-Mavericks game was in the fourth quarter, she was practically dancing with excitement. It was clear that nothing short of a miracle would hand over a win to the Mavericks. The wait was excruciating, and she was anxious to set her plan into motion.
    She would go right up to him, with her microphone off, and ask him, “Tyson, the Blitz defense was really all over you today. Were you starting to think the only way to keep