Heaven, Texas (Chicago Stars #2)(107)

The blonde slipped her arm around his waist and rested her cheek against his jacket. As he hugged her in return, Gracie recognized her as Phoebe Calebow, the glamorous owner of the Chicago Stars and Bobby Tom’s former boss. She remembered the newspaper photographs of them kissing on the sidelines and wondered why two people so well-matched hadn’t ended up together.

At that moment he lifted his head and spotted Gracie. The confusion in his eyes was replaced, almost immediately, by displeasure, and she wanted to shout at him, This is me, Bobby Tom! This is who I am! An ordinary woman who was foolish enough to have believed she could give something to a man who already has everything.

Phoebe Calebow raised her head and looked in her direction. Gracie's couldn’t put it off any longer. Squaring her shoulders, she walked toward them, an ugly duckling approaching two gilded swans.

The male swan scowled, his gilded feathers ruffled. “You’re late. Where have you been, and what in the sam hill are you doing dressed like that?”

Gracie ignored him simply because she didn’t have the strength to address him directly. Resisting the ugly claws of jealousy that wanted to dig into her flesh, she extended her hand to Phoebe. “I’m Gracie Snow.”

She waited for icy hauteur, certain that such a glamorous woman could only feel disdain for someone as dowdy as herself, but she was surprised to see a combination of friendliness and lively curiosity in her eyes instead. “Phoebe Calebow,” she said as she returned the handshake. “I’m delighted to meet you, Gracie. I only heard about your engagement last week.”

“I’m certain it was a surprise to everyone,” Gracie said stiffly, not knowing what to make of this woman who looked like a sex goddess but felt as warm and cozy as Mother Earth.

“I can definitely see your appeal.”

Gracie gazed at her sharply, certain she was having a joke at her expense, but Phoebe Calebow seemed absolutely serious. “The twins are going to be devastated. My daughters convinced themselves he’d wait for them to grow up and then somehow marry them both. We have four children,” she explained, “including a three-month-old son. I’m still nursing him, so we’ve brought him along. He’s at Suzy’s house right now with a sitter.”

Bobby Tom looked pained. “I swear, Phoebe, if you start any breast-feeding discussions, I’m walking right out of this room.”

Phoebe chuckled and patted his arm. “Welcome to the world of married life. You’ll get used to it.”

Gracie fought back a mental picture of Bobby Tom’s babies, rough-and-tumble little boys who’d be as impossible to resist as their father. She hadn’t thought she could feel any more pain, but the idea of Bobby Tom with children who wouldn’t be hers brought a fresh wave of misery.

The crowd was beginning to drift to the dining room as a big, good-looking man who appeared to be in his early forties came up behind Phoebe and clasped her shoulders. Speaking in a soft, Southern drawl, he said, “If you want to do some recruiting, honey lamb, this is the place. There are a couple of real good ball players in the crowd tonight who don’t seem too happy with their team owner.”

Phoebe grew instantly alert. At the same time, she tilted her head and gazed up at the man behind her with such tenderness that Gracie wanted to weep. Bobby Tom sometimes looked at her like that, but it didn’t mean the same thing.

“Gracie, this is my husband, Dan Calebow. He used to be Bobby Tom’s coach. Dan, Gracie Snow.”

Calebow smiled. “Pleased to meet you, Miss Snow. This sure is a nice affair.” He turned to Bobby Tom. “Somebody said your fiancée is here, Mr. Movie Star. I can’t believe you finally decided to get married. When am I going to get to meet her?”

Phoebe touched his hand. “Gracie is Bobby Tom’s fiancee.

Calebow quickly concealed his surprise. “Well, now, this is a treat. And you look like such a nice lady, too. My condolences, ma’am.” His attempts to cover his gaffe with humor didn’t quite ease the tension. Gracie was normally good at making light conversation, even in awkward situations, but she felt as if her tongue had stuck to the roof of her mouth, and she stood before the three of them, dull, drab, and silent.

Bobby Tom finally spoke. “If you’ll excuse us for a minute, Gracie and I need to have a few words with each other.”

Phoebe waved them off. “Go ahead. I want to do some recruiting before everybody’s in their seats.”

Bobby Tom grasped Gracie’s arm and began pulling her away from the dining room for what she was certain he intended to be a blistering lecture, but before he could get her alone, a large, dark-haired man with a meat-hook nose and delicate mouth grabbed him. “You’ve been holding out on me, B.T. I hear you’re getting married. Where’s the lucky lady?”

Bobby Tom gritted his teeth. “This is the lucky lady.” This man wasn’t nearly as skillful at hiding his feelings as Dan Calebow had been, and he was clearly shocked. Gracie felt Bobby Tom slide his arm around her shoulders, and, if she hadn’t known him better, she would almost have thought the gesture was protective.

“Gracie, this is Jim Biederot. He was the Stars’ quarterback for a lot of years, and the two of us played some good ball together.”

Biederot’s discomfort was obvious. “Nice to meet you, Gracie.”

Luther popped up at between them, sparing Gracie the need to reply. “Pastor Frank is about to give the invocation. Come on, you two.”