Phoebe had been covertly watching Dan for subtle signs of homophobia and was disappointed when he showed none because he wasn’t giving her an excuse to throw him out. She studied his face. He certainly wasn’t as good-looking as many of Viktor’s friends. There was that small bump at the bridge of his nose, the thin white scar on a chin. But still, she would be lying to herself if she denied that he was an incredibly attractive man. He could even be charming when he tried, and several times she’d had to force herself not to smile at his offbeat sense of humor.

Viktor set down his fork and wiped his mouth with a napkin. “Now, Dan, perhaps you wish to share with me the reasons for your dispute with my Phoebe. I assure you, she is the dearest of persons.”

“Must be an acquired taste. Like that Korean meat.”

Viktor sighed. “Dan, Dan. This won’t do, you know. She is quite sensitive. If the two of you are to work together, you must arrive at some sort of truce.”

She opened her mouth to tell Viktor it was hopeless, only to feel her friend’s hand clamp down hard on her thigh.

“The problem is, Viktor, we’re not going to be working together because your Phoebe won’t take any responsibility for her football team.”

Viktor patted Phoebe’s arm. “It is fortunate, Dan, that she is leaving you alone. She knows nothing of sports.”

The air was so thick with the pollution of male patronization that she could barely breathe, but she held her peace.

Dan nudged Pooh off his right foot. The poodle resettled on his left one. “She doesn’t need to know anything about sports. She just needs to fire the current general manager, hire somebody with more experience, and sign the papers that are put in front of her.” Briefly, he outlined the difficulties the Stars had been having since Bert’s death.

Viktor, who had a good head for business and was notoriously tight with a dollar, frowned. “Phoebe, pet, I’m afraid he has a point.”

“You know the terms of my father’s will. He left me the Stars only so he could teach me a lesson. I’m not playing his game.”

“There are some games you can’t walk away from, Miz Somerville, without hurting a lot of people.”

“I’m not going to lose much sleep over a bunch of grown men crying in their beer because they aren’t winning football games.”

“Then how about the staff people who are going to lose their jobs? Our ticket sales are way down from last year, and that means layoffs. How about their families, Miz Somerville. Will you lose sleep over them?”

He’d made her feel like a selfish worm. She’d been so wrapped up in her own feelings that she hadn’t bothered to consider the effect her decision to turn her back on the Stars might have on others. If only she could find a way to stay true to herself without hurting anyone else. Several seconds ticked by while she considered her options. Finally, she released an indolent sign.