Molly’s ears perked up, even though she’d turned her back forever on unrequited love. “What did he do? Other than nearly run me over.”

“He did?”

“Never mind. Tell me.”

Julie took a gulp of air. “He went skydiving in Denver the day before the Broncos game.”

“Oh, boy …” Molly’s heart sank.

“Dad just found out about it, and he fined him ten thousand dollars!”

“Wow.” As far as Molly knew, this was the first time Kevin had ever been fined.

The quarterback’s uncharacteristic recklessness had started just before training camp in July, when an amateur motorcycle dirt track racing event had left him with a sprained wrist. It was unlike him to do anything that could jeopardize his performance on the field, so everyone had been sympathetic, especially Dan, who considered Kevin the consummate professional.

Dan’s attitude had begun to shift, however, after word reached him that during the regular season Kevin had gone paragliding in Monument Valley. Not long after, the quarterback bought the high-performance Ferrari Spider that had knocked Molly over in the parking lot. Then last month the Sun-Times reported that Kevin had left Chicago after the Monday postgame meetings to fly out to Idaho for a day of heli-skiing in a secluded back bowl at Sun Valley. Since Kevin hadn’t been injured, Dan had only given him a warning. But the recent skydiving incident had obviously pushed her brother-in-law over the edge.

“Dad yells all the time, but I never heard him yell at Kevin until today,” Tess reported. “And Kevin yelled back. He said he knew what he was doing and he wasn’t hurt and Dad should stay out of his private business.”

Molly winced. “I’ll bet your dad didn’t like that.”

“He really yelled then,” Julie said. “Uncle Ron tried to calm them down, but Coach came in, and then he started yelling, too.”

Molly knew that her sister Phoebe had an aversion to yelling. “What did your mom do?”

“She went to her office and turned up Alanis Morissette.”

Probably a good thing.

They were interrupted by the pounding of sneakers as her five-year-old nephew, Andrew, came flying around the corner, much like Kevin’s Ferrari. “Aunt Molly! Guess what?” He hurled himself against her knees. “Everybody yelled, and my ears hurt.”

Since Andrew was blessed with not only his father’s good looks but also Dan Calebow’s booming voice, Molly sincerely doubted that. Still, she stroked his head. “I’m sorry.”

He looked up at her with stricken eyes. “And Kevin was soooo mad at Daddy and Uncle Ron and Coach that he said the F word.”

“He shouldn’t have done that.”

“Twice!”

“Oh, dear.” Molly resisted a smile. Spending so much time inside the headquarters of a National Football League team office made it inevitable that the Calebow children heard more than their share of obscenities, but the family rules were clear. Inappropriate language in the Calebow household meant heavy fines, although not as heavy as Kevin’s ten thousand dollars.

She couldn’t understand it. One of the things she most hated about her crush—her ex-crush—on Kevin was the fact that her crush was on Kevin, the shallowest man on earth. Football was all that mattered to him. Football and an endless parade of blank-faced international models. Where did he find them? NoPersonality.com?