“Sure. He lets me play basketball with him at his house sometimes.”

“I bet he beats you real bad.”

“Naw. He’s afraid of me.”

“Michael’s not afraid of anybody,” the child said solemnly.

So much for trying to make jokes about Jordan, even after his retirement. “You’re right. He beats me real bad.”

Robert led Dan over to the table to admire his cookies, and before long some of the other children had claimed his attention. They were so cute he couldn’t get enough of them. Kids tickled him, maybe because he liked a lot of the same things they did: eating cookies, watching cartoons on TV, generally messin’ around. Even though he was running late, he couldn’t bring himself to leave.

Sharon, in the meantime, had spilled a measuring cup of sugar and just dropped an egg. He grabbed a paper towel to help her clean it up and saw that she was blushing again. He liked that curly red hair of hers and the way it was always flying all over the place.

“I seem to have the dropsies today,” she stammered.

“That’s one of those words you’re not supposed to use around quarterbacks. Even retired ones.”

It took her a few seconds to get the point, but then she smiled.

“You’ve got food coloring on your cheek.”

“I’m such a mess.” She dipped her head and rubbed her cheek with her shoulder, so that she ended up with food coloring in two places instead of one. “Honestly, I don’t look like this all the time.”

“Don’t apologize. You look great.”

“Ethan took my sprinkles,” a little girl wailed.

Sharon immediately turned her attention to the child who was tugging on her slacks with messy fingers. This was something else he liked about her. Even when she was talking to an adult, the children were her first priority. He watched with admiration as she negotiated a settlement that would have done a diplomat proud.

“They could use you in the Middle East.”

She smiled. “I think I’d better stick to sprinkles.”

He glanced down at his watch. “I’ve got to go. I’m making a speech five minutes ago. My schedule’s pretty crazy right now, but when things loosen up, let’s go out to dinner. You like Italian?”

She had turned red again. “I—Yes, Italian’s fine.”

“Good. I’ll call you.”

“Okay.” She seemed vaguely stunned.

Impulsively, he leaned forward and brushed her mouth with a quick kiss. On the way out to the parking lot, he smiled and licked his lips.

Maybe it was his imagination, but he thought he tasted vanilla.

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