Dan was so intensely focused on his players that he didn’t notice she and Ron had entered the locker room until he had finished.

Ron cleared his throat. “Uhm . . . Miss Somerville wanted to stop by and wish all of you luck tonight.”

Dan’s frown indicated that she was unwelcome. Forcing herself to ignore him, she pasted her brightest smile on her face and stepped into the middle of the locker room. She swallowed her self-consciousness and assumed a pinup pose that showed off her outfit. “Hi, guys. What do you think? Pretty nifty, huh?”

Several of the men smiled, but she knew it was going to take more than a fashion show to cut through their tension. Although she was the last person to consider herself an authority on football, several facts seemed clear to her. The Stars had superb players and excellent coaching, but for some reason, they couldn’t manage to hold on to the football. To her mind, that was a mental problem, not a physical one, and ever since yesterday’s plane ride, she couldn’t shake the idea that they wouldn’t fumble so much if they could just relax a little and have fun.

She stepped up on one of the benches near the front so she could see everybody. “Okay, guys, here goes. My first and—I sincerely hope—last locker room speech.”

Several of them smiled.

“I have complete faith in Coach Calebow. Everybody tells me that he’s a wonderful football strategist and a great motivator of men. Besides, he’s s-o-o-o cute.”

As she had hoped, they began to laugh. She didn’t risk looking at Dan to see how he was receiving her teasing. Instead, she puckered her brow. “Not that the rest of you aren’t cute, too. Except for Webster. I’ve seen Krystal in action, and, believe me, I’m not even looking in Webster’s direction.”

More laughter. Webster grinned and ducked his head in embarrassment.

Her own smile faded. “What I want to tell you is this. If you win tonight’s game, you’ll make my life easier as far as the press is concerned, but, to be totally honest, beating the Giants is more important to all of you than it is to me. I mean, I can only get so worked up about a football game, and—”

“Miss Somerville . . .” The warning note in Dan’s voice was plain.

She hastily went on. “However, as incredible as it seems to me, I’ve actually gotten to like a few of you oversized bozos, and since all of you want to win so badly tonight, I’m going to tell you how to do it.”