It Had to Be You (Chicago Stars #1)(80)

“I’m going with you.”

“To the locker room?”

She gave an abrupt nod. “To the locker room.”

Ron regarded her uncertainly but made no comment as he led the way through the subterranean depths of the stadium. They entered a locker room that was ominously quiet. With the exception of their helmets, the players were fully dressed, and she felt as if she had stumbled into a land populated by titans. On the field, they were enormous, but trapped indoors wearing full battle gear, their size was truly awesome.

Some of them stood while others hunched on wooden benches with their knees splayed and hands dangling loosely from bent wrists. Bobby Tom and Jim Biederot sat on a long table at the side, their backs resting against the wall. All of their faces were grim as they listened to Dan speak.

“. . . we’re playing our own game out there tonight. We’re not going to win with field goals. We’ve got to win in the red zone. We’ve got to win in short-yardage situations. . . .”

Dan was so intensely focused on his players that he didn’t notice she and Ron had entered the locker room until he had finished.

Ron cleared his throat. “Uhm . . . Miss Somerville wanted to stop by and wish all of you luck tonight.”

Dan’s frown indicated that she was unwelcome. Forcing herself to ignore him, she pasted her brightest smile on her face and stepped into the middle of the locker room. She swallowed her self-consciousness and assumed a pinup pose that showed off her outfit. “Hi, guys. What do you think? Pretty nifty, huh?”

Several of the men smiled, but she knew it was going to take more than a fashion show to cut through their tension. Although she was the last person to consider herself an authority on football, several facts seemed clear to her. The Stars had superb players and excellent coaching, but for some reason, they couldn’t manage to hold on to the football. To her mind, that was a mental problem, not a physical one, and ever since yesterday’s plane ride, she couldn’t shake the idea that they wouldn’t fumble so much if they could just relax a little and have fun.

She stepped up on one of the benches near the front so she could see everybody. “Okay, guys, here goes. My first and—I sincerely hope—last locker room speech.”

Several of them smiled.

“I have complete faith in Coach Calebow. Everybody tells me that he’s a wonderful football strategist and a great motivator of men. Besides, he’s s-o-o-o cute.”

As she had hoped, they began to laugh. She didn’t risk looking at Dan to see how he was receiving her teasing. Instead, she puckered her brow. “Not that the rest of you aren’t cute, too. Except for Webster. I’ve seen Krystal in action, and, believe me, I’m not even looking in Webster’s direction.”

More laughter. Webster grinned and ducked his head in embarrassment.

Her own smile faded. “What I want to tell you is this. If you win tonight’s game, you’ll make my life easier as far as the press is concerned, but, to be totally honest, beating the Giants is more important to all of you than it is to me. I mean, I can only get so worked up about a football game, and—”

“Miss Somerville . . .” The warning note in Dan’s voice was plain.

She hastily went on. “However, as incredible as it seems to me, I’ve actually gotten to like a few of you oversized bozos, and since all of you want to win so badly tonight, I’m going to tell you how to do it.”

Even though she was deliberately avoiding looking at Dan, she could feel those fierce green eyes boring holes right through her skin. Regardless of her position as team owner, this was his turf, and she had invaded it. Still, she went on. “Coach Calebow has eons of experience, and I’m sure you should pay attention to everything he’s told you. But if you’ll do just this one little thing for me, I can practically promise you success.”

She could feel the anger rolling off Dan’s body. He had spent the entire week working the team into a killing frenzy, and she was blithely undoing all his efforts. She had to set aside her own survival instinct so she could concentrate on the men, not an easy feat when he was standing so close. “Tonight, gentlemen, when you line up on that field, I want you to do this.” She paused. “I want you to pretend that the Giants are naked.”

They were staring at her as if she had lost her mind, which probably wasn’t all that far from the truth. She heard a few nervous chuckles, and regarded the offenders with mock gravity.

“I am absolutely serious. When the Giants are lined up, just pretend that guy across from you, on the other side of the—” Her mind went blank, and she turned to Ron. “What’s that thing called?”

“The line of scrimmage?” Ron offered.

“Right. Pretend the guy across the line of scrimmage from you is naked. It’ll work. Really. I promise you. It’s a trick I learned in school to overcome stage fright. I mean how can you be seriously worried about getting beat by some guy who has his—uh—stomach hanging out?” She smiled brightly. “So, for tonight . . . Think naked!”

For better or for worse, the tension in the locker room was gone. As the men’s shoulder pads shook from their laughter, she knew she had accomplished her goal, and she finally allowed her own instinct for survival to kick in.

Jumping down from the bench, she made a dash for the door. “I’ll see all of you on the field.”