It Had to Be You (Chicago Stars #1)(109)

He began to look amused. “Don’t you want to cry or hit me or something?”

She didn’t always get his jokes, but she understood this one. “I guess you can tell that I’m a little bit relieved. I’ve been feeling sort of crazy these past few weeks. You’re every woman’s dream man, and I knew I should fall in love with you.”

“But you didn’t.”

She shook her head.

“Sharon, I can’t believe I’m going to do this, but I wasn’t exactly expecting this conversation to turn out so well. Yesterday, a friend of mine asked me about you. At first I thought he was just curious because he knew you were my guest at the game on Sunday, but then I realized he wanted to ask you out himself.”

“The one thing I’ve learned the past few months is that I’m not comfortable with athletes.”

“Perfect.”

She couldn’t understand why he was smiling.

Still grinning, he rose from the small chair. “My friend’s not much of an athlete. He plays basketball, but just between the two of us, he’s pretty pathetic.”

“I don’t know.”

“It’s Ron McDermitt, our general manager.”

“Ron?”

“Do you have a problem with me giving him your phone number?”

“Problem? Oh, no. No, I don’t have a problem with that at all.”

She must have sounded too eager because he started to chuckle. Leaning down, he gave her a peck on the cheek. “I have a feeling I’ll be seeing you around.”

He was still shaking his head with amusement as he walked out to his car. His life was starting all over again, and the future was no longer murky, but crystal clear. Now that he’d settled things with Sharon, he could tell Phoebe how much he loved her. The knowledge had been inside him for a long time, but he’d been too confused by the erotic smoke screen that surrounded her to realize it. His sweet, smart, gutsy little bimbo. He didn’t think he’d ever forget the way she’d looked sitting on the side of his bed spilling out all her secrets. When she’d told him about her rape, he’d wanted to throw back his head and howl. She made him feel things that scared him to death.

He reached his car, and some of his euphoria faded. He’d survived childhood by learning not to love anyone too much, and the depth of emotion he felt for her terrified him a lot more than any defensive lineup he’d ever faced. He’d always held something back from women, but that wasn’t going to be possible with her. Telling her how much he loved her would be the biggest risk he’d ever taken because there was always the chance that she’d throw those feelings right back in his face.

He reminded himself that beneath all of Phoebe’s sassiness, she was the gentlest person he’d ever known. Surely there was no need for him to be afraid. Surely, his heart would be safe with her.





22


“Stop scowling, Darnell. You’re scaring the photographers.” Phoebe squeezed Darnell Pruitt’s arm, a restraining action that was about as effective as trying to dent an iron bar. She nodded at one of the reporters. All week she’d been going through the motions of life, determined not to let anyone see her despair. Darnell had been good company tonight, and she was grateful he’d agreed to act as her escort on the tour of the corporate hospitality suites the night before the Dolphins game.

His eyes narrowed into vicious slits as he curled his lip at the Associated Press and spoke to her under his breath. “There’s no way I’m letting anybody on the Dolphins’ defense see a picture of me smilin’.”

“Thank God there aren’t any small children around.”

“I don’t know why you’d say that. I love kids.”

It was approaching his eleven o’clock curfew as they left the last party and made their way to the elevator. Darnell’s courtship of Miss Charmaine Dodd wasn’t progressing quickly enough to suit him, and he was hoping one of the Chicago papers would print a shot of him with Phoebe that would stir Miss Dodd to jealousy.

Phoebe had minimized her contact with Dan by waiting until that afternoon to fly into Miami, and she’d barely had time to change into her gown, an old one she’d bought for a Christmas party several years ago. It was a high-necked, tight-fitting sheath of shimmering gold lace worn over a flesh-colored body stocking. Darnell was wearing his tuxedo with a black silk shirt and gold bow tie that matched his diamond embellished tooth.

The elevator was empty when they reached it, allowing Darnell to return to the discussion he’d been more or less carrying on by himself ever since he’d come to her room three hours earlier. “I don’t see why everybody thinks Captain Ahab is evil. Damn, if it wasn’t for his leg, I’d have that man on my team any day. He doesn’t let anything stand in his way, dig? Those are the kind of men win football games.”

Moby Dick was just one of the books she’d recommended that Darnell had devoured in the past few months on his quest for self-improvement. It hadn’t taken her long to realize that football might have made Darnell rich in material things, but the game had robbed him of the opportunity to use his intellect. Because Darnell was big, black, and strong, no one had bothered to discover that he also had a fine brain.

Darnell continued his praise of Captain Ahab all the way to the door of her hotel suite. She dreaded being alone with her thoughts and wished he didn’t have a curfew so she could invite him inside. Instead, she wished him good luck with a peck on the cheek. “Crunch some bones for me tomorrow, Darnell.”