They stood there without moving. She gazed into his eyes and felt as if he were pulling her into an embrace. She could feel herself leaning forward, see that he was doing the same. And then Pooh barked, breaking the mood.

He took her arm and propelled her forward. “Come on. I’m gonna buy you your very own hot dog bun. With a little mustard and pickle relish, you might not notice the best part is missing.”

Taking his cue, she fell into step beside him. “Do you have any idea what goes into hot dogs?”

“No, and I don’t want to know. Unless— Hey, Pooh, you interested in going into the meat industry?”

“That’s not funny. Don’t listen to him, Pooh.”

He chuckled.

Five minutes later, she was munching on a french fry, while Dan bit into his second hot dog. A wistful note crept into her voice. “There isn’t any possibility, is there, that the Stars are going to win the AFC Championship?”

“I start every season planning to win the Super Bowl.”

“I’m not talking about fantasies, I’m talking about reality.”

“We’re going to give it our best, Phoebe. A lot of it depends on whether or not we can stay healthy. Injuries always play a big part. Last year, for example, the Cowboys were a better team than the Sabers, but they lost the Super Bowl because so many of their starters were hurt. Right now we’re not playing up to our potential, but things are going to start falling into place soon.”

“This weekend?”

He gave her a rueful smile. “Probably not that soon.”

“Everybody says the men are grumbling about how hard you’re pushing them.”

“That’s my job.”

She sighed. “I know you’re looking forward to working for Reed, and I can’t really blame you.”

She expected a wisecrack, but instead, Dan looked thoughtful. “Frankly, I’ve never been too crazy about your cousin. I’m also getting the distinct impression he’s behind some of our bad press. Over the years, he’s cultivated a lot of friends in the media.”

Phoebe had suspected the same thing. Still, she could hardly take Dan’s statement as a vote of confidence. “At least he knows something about football.”

“That’s true.” He slipped his arm around her shoulders and gave her a comforting squeeze. “But he sure is going to look funny kissing Bobby Tom.”

16

16

Ron stared down at the field from the skybox window. “I knew what would happen when I suspended him, but I was hoping it wouldn’t be this bad.”

The Stars had been ineffectual against the bloodthirsty Los Angeles Raiders. Jim Biederot was intercepted four times, Bobby Tom couldn’t keep his footing, and the defense didn’t make the tackles that counted. Phoebe gave one last glance at the final score: Raiders 34, Stars 3.

“Never mind,” she said. “It’ll be better next week.”