“Webster and I were teammates right before I retired, and all of us got to be pretty good friends. Neither of them liked much about my ex-wife except her politics, and Krystal used to show up at my door with milk and cookies when I was going through my divorce. We haven’t been able to see a lot of each other socially since I joined the Stars.”

“Why is that?”

“I’m Webster’s coach now.”

“Does that make a difference?”

“Rosters have to be cut, players traded. There has to be some distance.”

“A strange way to conduct friendships.”

“That’s just the way it is. Everybody understands.”

Although the others were in sight, the bench was tucked far enough into the shadows of the japonica bushes that she had begun to feel as if they were alone, and she was so aware of him that her skin prickled. She welcomed the distraction of a female squeal, and, looking through a break in the hedges, saw a woman whip off the top of her bikini. The accompanying hoots and squeals were so loud she hoped they didn’t awaken Molly and frighten her.

“The party’s getting a little wild.”

“Not really. Everybody’s on their good behavior because the chaperons are here.”

“What chaperons?”

“You and me. The boys aren’t going to let their hair down with the owner and head coach hanging around, especially since we lost today. I remember a few parties during my playing days that lasted right through till Tuesday.”

“You sound nostalgic.”

“I had some fun.”

“Getting tossed in swimming pools and judging wet T-shirt contests?”

“Don’t tell me you’ve got something against wet T-shirt contests. That’s the closest most football players ever come to a cultural event.”

She laughed. But then her laughter faded as she saw the way he was looking at her. Through the lenses of his glasses, his sea-green eyes were enigmatic, yet something seemed to crackle between them, an electricity that shouldn’t have been there. She was thrilled, frightened. Dipping her head, she took a quick sip of wine.

He spoke softly. “For somebody who flirts with everything in pants, you sure are nervous with me.”

“I am not!”

“You’re a liar, darlin’. I make you nervous as hell.”

Despite the wine, her mouth felt dry. She forced her lips into a fox’s smile. “Only in your dreams, lover.” Leaning close enough to inhale his after-shave, she said huskily, “I devour men like you for breakfast and still eat a five-course lunch.”

He gave a snort of laughter. “Damn, Phoebe, I wish we liked each other better, ’cause if we did, we could have ourselves a real good time.”