It Had To Be You

and drew her toward the fireplace. Keane was all millionaire playboy charm in his custom-made tux and white tucked shirt with its half-carat diamond studs. Of average height and build, he had dark, straight hair and a high forehead. Until that night Dan had considered Jason an okay-looking guy, but now he decided that his nose was too big and his eyes too weasely.

Dan took a drink from a waiter and exchanged greetings with the other men present-Jeff O'Brian, Jason's administrative assistant, and Chet Delahunty, his attorney. As soon as he could get away, he sauntered over toward the fireplace to eavesdrop. Ron obviously had the same idea because he trailed along.

Phoebe had her back to them, and he was almost certain he could make out her bottom-crack under that slinky dress material. She was licking Jason with her eyes and leaning into him as if he were a street corner lamppost. Dan's blood pressure shot into the stratosphere.

'I can call you Jason, can't I?' she cooed. 'Especially since we have so many friends in common.'

Dan waited for the drool to slide right out of Keane's mouth. 'Like who?'

'Half of Manhattan.' She rested her hand possessively on his sleeve, her red fingernails standing out like drops of blood drawn from the lash of the whip. 'You know the Blackwells and Miles Greig, of course. Isn't Miles a scamp? And then there's Mitzi Wells, you devil.'

Jason was obviously feeling the effects of all those gamma rays of adoration that were blasting away at him because his smile blossomed even wider. 'You know Mitzi?'

'Of course I do. And you almost broke her heart.'

'Not me.'

She lowered her voice until it was a sultry whisper, then sucked on her bottom lip in a way that made Dan feel as if the top of his head were blowing off.

'If I confess something to you, will you promise you won't think I'm awful?'

'Cross my heart.'

'I asked her to introduce us-this was before the two of you started to date seriously-and she refused. It nearly broke up our friendship, but now that I've met you, I can understand why she was so protective.'

Dan could see Jason trying to spot the fastenings on Phoebe's cathouse dress, so he wouldn't waste any time getting her out of it later on. With a murmur of disgust, he tilted back his head and drained his glass. Keane would unfasten that dress over this ol' boy's dead body.

Dinner was ready and they took their places around the table, with Jason at the head and Ron and Phoebe on each side of him. Dan sat at the foot between Jeff O'Brian and Chet Delahunty. The meal seemed to drag on forever. By the time the main course was removed and dessert was served, the men at the bottom of the table had given up on even a desultory attempt at conversation so they could eavesdrop.

Dan watched Phoebe suck an out-of-season strawberry with her X-rated mouth. As she gazed into Keane's eyes, he told himself he was going to propose to Sharon Anderson that very weekend.

Ron had barely looked up from his dinner plate all evening, but as the coffee was poured, he finally seemed to come to life, about ninety minutes too late, as far as Dan was concerned.

'Excuse me for interrupting your conversation, Phoebe, but I think it might behoove us to discuss the reason for this meeting tonight.'

Phoebe looked at him so blankly that Dan wanted to shake her. Was she so eager to add Keane to her scalp collection that she had forgotten why they were here?

'Reason?' she said.

'The stadium contract,' Ron reminded her.

'Oh, pooh. I've changed my mind, Ronnie. I don't want to talk about that tonight. Why don't you just relax and enjoy yourself? Jason and I are friends now, and everybody knows you shouldn't do business with friends.'

'A woman after my own heart,' Jason chuckled.

'All Ronnie thinks about is business. It's so boring. There are more important things in life than some silly old contract.'

Dan straightened in his seat. Something was wrong here. Phoebe did care about the contract, and she never called her GM Ronnie.

Keane gave Ron a smug smile. 'Why don't you have some more wine, McDermitt?'

'No, thank you.'

'Don't pout, Ronnie. You can call Jason tomorrow and tell him what I've decided.'

'What is there to decide?' Keane said smoothly. 'Everything's pretty much cut-and-dried.'

Once again, she curled her fingers around his sleeve. 'Not exactly, but let's not spoil tonight by talking about business.'

Keane grew almost imperceptibly more alert. 'We've sent you a fair contract. The same one your father signed. I hope you're as satisfied.'

'I'm not satisfied,' Ron said with a forcefulness that earned Dan's admiration. He waited with interest to hear Phoebe's response.

'Oh, I'm not satisfied either,' she giggled. 'Ronnie made me so upset about the bad deal the Stars were getting that he convinced me I had to do something.' Like a small child reciting a well-learned lesson, she said, 'Ronnie keeps reminding me that I'm a businesswoman now, Jason. And even though I'll probably only have the team for a short time longer, I have to think like an owner.'

Dan kept his expression carefully blank as he leaned back in his chair to watch the show. What was his brainy little bimbo up to now?

She rolled her eyes toward the ceiling. 'I know what you're thinking. You're thinking that Phoebe Somerville isn't enough of a businesswoman to make the tough calls, but that just isn't true.'

'I wasn't thinking that at all.' Keane's lazy smile was at odds with the hawklike intensity in his gaze. 'What kind of tough calls do you have to make? Maybe I can help. I have a lot of experience with that sort of thing.'

Ron's mouth twisted into something that, on any other man, would have been a sneer. 'He's trying to manipulate you, Phoebe. Be careful.'

Phoebe wrinkled her forehead. 'Don't be rude, Ronnie. Jason wouldn't do anything like that.'

Keane's eyes were boring holes through her skull, as if he were trying to see whether anything lurked between the air pockets. 'Of course, I wouldn't. All of us have to make tough calls now and then.'

Phoebe's pout turned into something closer to a whine. 'But this one was really hard, Jason. Ronnie kept telling me you wouldn't be mad about it, but I'm not so sure. I don't see how you can be happy about the Stars moving.'

Jason choked on the coffee he had been in the process of swallowing. 'Moving?' His cup landed in his saucer with a clatter, and all his flirtatiousness disappeared. 'What the hell are you talking about? Moving where?'

Dan watched as Phoebe's bottom lip actually began to quiver. 'Don't be mad. Ronnie explained it to me, and everything'll be fine. We're going to exercise that one-year option we have with you for next season, so it's not as if we're moving immediately. You'll have lots of time to find another team to play in your stadium.'

Keane spoke to Phoebe through gritted teeth. 'Exactly where are you thinking about taking the Stars?'

'Manhattan, maybe. Wouldn't that be a gas? I'm not absolutely sure, of course, that the other team owners will go along with it, but Ronnie hired these nerds to do this big market survey, and they told him the New York City area can definitely support another football team.'

Keane, obviously having decided where the real power behind the Stars lay, shot Ron a look of pure fury. 'That's ridiculous! The Stars won't be able to use Giants Stadium. There are already two teams playing there.'

But Phoebe wasn't ready to turn over the stage to her GM yet, and once again she cupped Keane's arm. 'Not Giants Stadium. That's in New Jersey, for goodness' sake, and I never go to New Jersey unless I'm on my way to Philadelphia. Just because I won't own the team anymore doesn't mean that I'm not planning on seeing every game. I'm crazy about football now that I know all the players.'

'You can't move the team unless you have a stadium!' Keane was nearly shouting. 'Didn't McDermitt tell you that?'

'But that's the best part! Donald has just about recovered from all those horrible things that happened to him a few years ago, and he wants to build a domed stadium on that West Side land he owns.' Her eyebrows wiggled suggestively. 'We're close friends, you know, and he told me he'd give me my very own skybox as a gift if I'd sign a contract with him before I turn over the team to Reed.' She looked stricken. 'Don't be