It Had to Be You (Chicago Stars #1)(41)

“Krystal, honey, I was just foolin’ around.”

“Foolin’ around! I’ll show you foolin’ around!” Drawing back her arm, she punched the tackle in the stomach with all her might.

He frowned. “Now, honey, why’d you have to go and do that? Last time you hit me, you hurt your hand.”

Sure enough, Krystal was cradling her hand, but that didn’t stop her sassy mouth. “Don’t you worry about my hand. You worry about your ass! And whether or not I’m ever gonna let you see your kids again!”

“Come on, honey. Let’s go put some ice on it.”

“Go put some ice on your dick!”

With a dramatic flip of her hair, she stalked away from him and headed directly toward Phoebe and Dan. Phoebe wasn’t certain she wanted a confrontation with this pint-sized termagant, but Dan didn’t look all that unhappy about it.

As the woman came to a stop in front of him, he wrapped her injured hand around his beer can. “It’s still cold, Krys. Maybe it’ll keep the swelling down.”

“Thanks.”

“You’ve got to stop hitting him, honey. One of these days you’re going to break your hand.”

“He’s got to stop making me mad,” she retorted.

“That female’s probably been after him all night. You know Webster’s the last man on the team who’d fool around with another woman.”

“That’s ’cause I understand how to keep him in line.”

Her tone was so smug that Phoebe couldn’t hold back a bubble of laughter. Instead of being offended, Krystal smiled back at her.

“Don’t ever let a man know he’s got the upper hand if you want a happy marriage.”

“I’ll remember that.”

Dan shook his head, then turned to Phoebe. “The scary thing is, Webster and Krystal have one of the best marriages on the team.”

“I guess I’d better go settle him down before he picks a fight with somebody.” Krystal rolled the beer can in her injured hand. “Mind if I take this along as an ice pack?”

“Help yourself.”

She smiled at Phoebe and then rose on tiptoe to plant a kiss on the corner of Dan’s jaw. “Thanks, pal. Stop by the house sometime and I’ll fry you up a hamburger.”

“I’ll do that.”

As Krystal returned to her husband, Dan lowered himself to the bench. Phoebe sat next to him, keeping as much space between them as she could manage.

“Have you known Krystal for long?”

“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.”