It Had to Be You (Chicago Stars #1)(92)

“Now let’s see if I’ve got this right.” She dangled one gray pump from her toes and let it swing back and forth. Her silver ankle bracelet, with its tiny crystal beads, glimmered in the light. “We can take the AFC Central title if we win this week and if Houston loses its game against the Redskins. Is that right?”

“Only if the Bengals beat the Steelers.” He grunted from exertion. “And I have to remind you that we’re playing the Chargers this weekend. The last time we went up against them, their defense held us to seven.”

“Bobby Tom told me he’s not afraid of the Chargers’ defense.”

“Bobby Tom’ll tell you he’s not afraid of nuclear war, so I wouldn’t put too much stock in his opinion.”

The ranking system was so complicated that it had taken Phoebe forever to get it straight. Although she still didn’t completely grasp all the variables, she knew that if the Stars won the Central Division championship, they were in the running for the two AFC playoff games, which would culminate in the AFC Championship the third week of January. If they won that, she would be the undisputed owner of the Stars, and her father would roll in his grave.

She could no longer put her finger on the exact moment when the idea of keeping the Stars had begun to be far more appealing than returning to New York and opening a gallery. It was more than her attraction to Dan, more than achieving some sort of posthumous revenge against her father that lured her. Every workday presented new challenges. She loved turning on her computer and manipulating the numbers on the spreadsheets. She loved the meetings, the phone calls, the sheer, impossible task of trying to perform a job for which she was so woefully unqualified. Sometime in the past few months, she had begun to dread the idea of turning the team over to Reed.

“Frankly, I wish you’d act a little more confident. Where’s all that jock talk I hear you giving the players.”

“It’s just the two of us now . . .” He gasped for breath. “. . . and you’ve got even more riding on this than they do. I don’t want to give you false hopes. We’ve got a great football team, and we’re getting better every game.” He kept glancing over at her, and for some unfathomable reason, he seemed to be growing irritated. “Nobody gave us enough credit at the beginning of the season, but for all the heart our players have, they’re still young and we still make too many mistakes. The Chargers have one hell of a football team, and with Murdrey coming off the injured list for the Sabers— Would you mind not doing that?” The weights fell with a clatter.

“Doing what?”

“What you’re doing!”

He was glaring at the gray leather pump she was swinging back and forth from her toes. She stopped the movement. “What are you so grouchy about?”

He got up from the machine. “I’m trying to concentrate is all, and you’re sitting there showing off your legs!”

Her skirt had ridden up until it was a scandalous three inches below her knee. “You’re kidding. This is bothering you?”

“That’s what I said, isn’t it?”

He stood in front of her with his hands on his hips and that mulish expression on his face that told her he didn’t intend to back down even though he must know he was well on the way to making a fool out of himself.

She forced herself not to smile, but a small bubble of happiness was expanding inside her. “I’m really sorry.” Looking contrite, she stood. “I had no idea you were so sensitive.”

“I’m not sensitive exactly.”

She stepped a little nearer to him. “Of course you’re not.”

He looked wary. “Maybe you’d better not come any closer. I’m pretty sweaty.”

“Gosh, I hardly notice anymore. I guess that’s what comes from spending so much time around a football team.”

“Yeah, well . . .”

With the courage of the desperate, she placed the palm of her hand on his damp T-shirt, directly over his heart. “You’ve been working hard.”

He didn’t move. She could feel the solid, fast thump of his heart and hoped it wasn’t just a reaction to the workout. Their eyes locked, and she experienced a yearning so intense that she knew it must show in her face.

“This isn’t a good idea.” His words had a tight, choked sound, but he made no attempt to back away.

She found her courage. “You didn’t mind my touching you the night we were flying home from the Meadowlands.”

“I wasn’t thinking straight that night.”

“Then don’t think straight again.” Closing her eyes, she wrapped her fingers around his upper arms and kissed him. When he didn’t kiss her back, she brushed her lips over his, praying he would respond before she lost her courage.

With a groan, his lips parted and he thrust his tongue into her mouth. He splayed one of his hands over her bottom and caught the back of her head with the other, pulling her hard against him. Their mouths ground together, tongues probing. Her hands were all over him, she wanted him so badly. She felt him hard, throbbing. Maybe now.

He grasped her shoulders and gently set her away from him. She could see him struggling for control. “We shouldn’t do this, Phoebe.”

“Why not?” Numbly, she tried to absorb his rejection.

“There you are.”