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"Dan?" As he turned back, her voice dropped to a gentle whisper. "Kick some Buffalo butt for me, will you?"
His response was as soft as an Alabama breeze. "Sure enough, sweetheart."
Even though the pace was unbelievably hectic, Phoebe felt as if she danced through the rest of the week. She found herself laughing for no reason at all and flirting with everyone—male, female, young, old, it made no difference. She sailed through her interviews with the press and even managed to be polite to Reed when he called with good luck wishes that rang hollow because he couldn't quite hide his frustration at how long it was taking him to get his hands on the Stars.
The more she mulled over Dan's revelations about his childhood, the more she wanted to believe that he had been sounding her out to discover her feelings about having a family. His disclosures allowed her to unearth all those precious dreams she had kept locked away for years, dreams of a husband who loved her and of a house filled with children who would never know what it was like to grow up unloved.
The few times she and Dan passed each other in the hallway, she felt something warm and wonderful travel between them. Still, her love for him frightened her. How was she going to put herself back together if he didn't return that love? For so long she had lived in the shadows. Was it possible that she could finally walk in the sunshine?
The Stars-Bills game was scoreless at the end of the first quarter, and as Phoebe left the field and entered the skybox, she was so tense she wished she could spend the next three quarters hiding out with a VCR and an old Doris Day movie. She took a glass of tomato juice from the bartender and watched as the skybox's two television sets faded to a Nike commercial.
"You're always complaining about having to watch the game with men, so I've brought you a companion."
She turned to see Ron standing at her side accompanied by a young woman with curly red hair and a friendly, rather shy smile.
"My friend here was stuck in the VIP skybox next door, but the cigarette smoke was giving her trouble."
"I hope you don't mind," the woman said. "Smoke makes me wheeze, and Ron said you didn't allow it in here."
"I don't mind at all." There was something endearing about her small, almost elfin features and freckled nose. Phoebe decided she was a definite improvement over the tall socialites Ron had been dating lately and found herself automatically returning her smile.
One of Ron's assistants popped up at his side, and he excused himself.
"I feel like I'm barging in," the young woman said.
"Nonsense. I'm glad to have company. Maybe you can distract me. I was just trying to figure out how I was going to get through the rest of the game without either throwing up or fainting." She extended her hand. "I'm Phoebe Somerville."
"Sharon Anderson." The woman returned her handshake.
"Let me get you something to drink." Phoebe led her over to the bar where Sharon requested a Diet Pepsi. "You're a two-fisted drinker like I am."
"Alcohol gives me a headache. I was voted the most boring girl in my college sorority."
Phoebe laughed. She had missed her female friends, and she liked this young woman's self-deprecating sense of humor.
The second quarter was beginning, and they took their drinks over to seats at the window. Phoebe gazed down at Dan and then turned to watch a close-up of him on the television screen as he barked orders into his headset while he kept his eyes riveted on the Stars' defense.
She flinched as the Bills' running back found a huge hole in the Stars' defensive line and made a fifteen-yard gain before Webster brought him down. "I don't think I can last three more quarters. I wish somebody would knock me out until this is over."
"It must be hard to watch the game when you have so much at stake."
"I used to hate football. It was—" She gasped with dismay and jumped up from her seat as the Bills completed a twenty-one-yard pass. "That's it! I have to get out of here. Stay and enjoy yourself; I'm going to take a walk in the hallway to settle myself down."
Sharon stood. "I'll go with you."
"You don't have to. Really."
"I don't mind. To be honest, I'm not much of a football fan. Unless you'd rather be alone."
"I'd love the company."
The carpeted hallway outside was deserted but noisy with the sounds of blaring televisions, cheers, and groans coming from behind the doors of the other sky boxes.
Phoebe crossed her arms tightly over her chest and began to walk. Hoping to distract herself, she asked, "How long have you and Ron been dating?"
"Oh, we're not dating. We just met today. He's really a nice guy, though."
"The best. The fact that he's gorgeous doesn't hurt, either."
