The fact that Phoebe Calebow knew of her existence was so dumbfoundingly dumbfounding that Piper couldn’t muster anything more than a shaky nod.

“My quarterbacks do tend to get involved with unusual women,” she said.

Those involvements had been well publicized, and like everyone else in Chicago, Piper knew the history. Cal Bonner had married a world-renowned physicist. Kevin Tucker was married to a prize-winning children’s book author. An eccentric artist had made an unlikely match with Dean Robillard. And it wasn’t only the quarterbacks. The team’s legendary wide receiver, Bobby Tom Denton, was married to the current mayor of Telarosa, Texas.

Mrs.Calebow gestured Piper back into her chair, then perched on the side of the desk. Middle age hadn’t diminished her curvy, blond beauty, and not even her tortoiseshell smart-girl glasses could dilute her aura of ripe sexuality. “So what are your intentions toward my guy?”

Piper wasn’t used to anyone intimidating her, but being in the presence of Phoebe Calebow was being in the presence of greatness. She swallowed. “I don’t think I have any intentions.”

Mrs.Calebow arched one beautifully shaped and very skeptical eyebrow.

“We’re... That part is over,” Piper said. “It’s all professional now. I have a job to do. And... How did you know about me?”

“I keep track of my men,” Mrs.Calebow said with a wry smile. “Do you read?”

“Read?”

“Books.”

“Of course. Thrillers. Mysteries. Police procedurals. At least I did until the past month, when I started working so late.” She babbled on. “I like biographies and autobiographies, too. But only about women. Which, I know, is sexist, but those are the stories that resonate with me. Oh, and cookbooks. I hate cooking but I like reading about it. And technology.” She forced herself to shut up.

“Interesting.” Mrs.Calebow uncoiled her legs from the desk corner, legs that could still have found a place in the Rockettes chorus line. “Nice meeting you, Ms.Dove.”

She swept from the office, leaving Piper to wonder what had just happened.

***

Piper didn’t leave the Stars headquarters until midafternoon, by which time she’d dug through all Coop’s PR records. On her way to her car, she experienced her familiar frustration. Nothing she’d read had raised a red flag. As she eased onto the two-lane road marked stars drive, she once again tried to figure out what she was missing and once again came up empty.

Instead of heading east toward the city, she took the Reagan Tollway west. She hadn’t seen Coop since their sleepover three nights ago, but she’d called him yesterday morning to make sure he wasn’t planning to throw himself into any big crowds or take off on a solitary hike. “I’m going over to Heath and Annabelle’s to watch the Stars game,” he’d said.