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"The police are waiting for me."
"I'll have to talk to them, too. And the press."
"And I need to see Molly."
He cupped her face in his hands and tenderly stroked her cheeks. "Are you going to be all right?"
"I'm going to be fine. I just want to get all of this over with. We can meet at Ron's victory party tonight."
"Don't plan on spending too much time there." He gave her one last kiss, then held her hand as they slipped out into the hallway.
Inside the closet everything was still for a moment, and then there was a rustle in the farthest, darkest corner.
"Darnell?" The woman's voice was soft and ladylike, but clearly distressed. "Did you hear what she said? About Reed Chandler?"
"I heard."
Charmaine Dodd, who firmly believed in fair play, was indignant. "That rat! He shouldn't be able to get away with something like that."
"Oh, he won't, baby. I know the coach, and I can promise you Chandler won't get away with anything."
"I'm glad." She swatted Darnell's wandering hand, which had begun to massage her breast through her prim white blouse in the most delicious, although highly improper, manner. "Oh, no you don't. We're not married yet."
"But we're gonna be, and then I'll be touchin' you in places you didn't even know you had."
"I didn't say I'd marry you." The words were slightly muffled because she was trying to kiss him while she talked. Hugging a football player who was still wearing most of his equipment was very much like trying to cozy up to an armored tank. Even so, she wasn't ready to let him go. Not that she intended to make this easy for him by letting him know how much she'd grown to love him. Darnell was too full of himself as it was.
"Charmaine, baby, I just got off the field. I haven't been to the showers, but you still walked right into mis closet with me. Now if that isn't a sign you're ready for marriage, I don't know what is."
"Maybe I just feel sorry for you."
He chuckled and slipped his hand under her skirt. His caress was so exquisite that, for several long moments, Miss Charmaine Dodd forgot her principles. Instead, she ran the tip of her tongue over the diamond embedded in his f
ront tooth and told herself Darnell Pruitt was going to make one fine, fine husband.
It was eight that evening before Dan had finished with the police, the NFL commissioner, and the press. The lengthy and dramatic press conference had been especially difficult for Phoebe, but she had handled it like a trooper and was already being declared a heroine on the evening news. He didn't like the fact that the press was trying to make him into a hero, but he knew that stories like this died a natural death after a few weeks. Then their lives could return to normal.
Ray Hardesty had suffered a major heart attack and was under police guard at the hospital. As Dan gazed around the silent coaches' locker room where he'd finally been able to shower and change into clean clothes, he knew he would have no regrets if Hardesty didn't recover.
Everyone else had left long ago for the victory party. As he slipped into his parka, he was bone weary and all he could think about was getting to Phoebe. But there was something he had to do first.
He walked out into the silent corridor, then drew up short as he saw Jim, Darnell, Webster, and Bobby Tom leaning against the opposite wall. All of them were wearing street clothes.
He regarded them uneasily. "I thought you'd be at the party by now."
"We decided to wait for you," Jim said.
"I have to make a stop first. I'll meet you there."
Bobby Tom unfolded his lanky form from the wall. "We care about Phoebe, too."
"What are you talking about?"
Darnell took a step forward. "Me and my fiancée were sharing the same closet with you and Phoebe after the game. We overheard what she told you about Reed Chandler. I shared the information with my teammates here."
Long seconds ticked by as Dan studied them. "I can take care of Reed by myself."
"We know that. We're just planning to come along for moral support."
