Bobby Tom dashed over to her, his expression so jubilant that she couldn’t help smiling back. “I hope you’re gonna be where I can get to you when we play the Chargers next week, Miz Somerville. You’re bringin’ me luck.”

“I think your talent is bringing you luck.”

Dan’s voice rang out, his tone fierce. “Denton, get over here! We’ve got three more quarters to play, or have you forgotten that?”

Bobby Tom winked and trotted away.

9

9

Phoebe stood in the flickering shadows of the torches that had been placed at intervals around the pool at the Somerville estate and watched as five giggling women surrounded Bobby Tom Denton. None of the Stars’ management or staff had regarded Bert’s death or the fact that Phoebe would soon be moving out of the house as an excuse to cancel the party he had hosted each year after the season opener. While Phoebe had been at the game, her secretary had supervised the caterers setting up for the event. Phoebe had replaced her carwash dress with a slightly less conspicuous apricot knit tank dress.

The team’s loss that afternoon to the Broncos had cast a pall over the early hours of the gathering, but as the liquor had begun to flow more freely, the mood had grown livelier. It was nearly midnight now, and the platters of steaks, ham, and lobster tails had been demolished. Phoebe had been introduced to all the players, their wives, and girlfriends as they arrived. The players were scrupulously polite to their new owner, but being around so many athletes had brought back too many bad memories, so she had removed herself to a wooden bench set by a clump of japonica bushes well off to the side of the pool.

She heard a familiar voice and felt a queer jolt as she looked toward the patio and saw Dan. Ron had told her that Sunday night was one of the busiest times for the coaches as they graded the players on their performances that afternoon and worked on the game plan for next week. Even so, she had found herself looking for him all evening.

She watched from the shadows as he moved from one group to another. Gradually, she realized he was drawing closer. She saw that he was wearing a pair of wire-rimmed glasses, and the contrast between those studious glasses and his rugged good looks did strange things to her insides.

She crossed her legs as he came up to her. “I’ve never seen you in glasses.”

“My contacts bother me after about fourteen hours.” He took a sip from the can of beer in his hand and propped his foot on the bench next to her.