'We'd better get back before they start running plays.'
All of them turned toward the end of the dock.
And came to a dead stop.
Phoebe was the first to break the long silence. In her soft, husky voice, she said what all of them were thinking. 'Welcome to the Garden of the Gods, ladies.'
Sharon spoke quietly over the lapping water. 'When you're standing right next to them, you don't get the full impact.'
Krystal's voice had a dreamy edge. 'We're getting it now.'
The men stood by the campfire… all six of them… one more gorgeous than the other. Phoebe licked her bottom lip and pointed to the oldest, a big blond giant with a hand cocked at his hip. On a never-to-be-forgotten day in the Midwest Sports Dome, Dan Calebow had saved her life with a perfectly thrown spiral. 'I pick him,' she said softly. 'Forever and ever.'
Molly slipped her arm through her sister's and said, just as softly. 'I'll take the golden boy right next to him. Forever and ever.' Kevin Tucker, tan and fit, had hazel eyes and a star-kissed talent that had earned him two Super Bowl rings, but he still told people the night he'd mistaken Molly for a burglar was the luckiest night of his life.
'I'll take that righteous brother with the soulful eyes and smile that melts my heart.' Krystal pointed toward Webster Greer, the second largest of the men standing by the flames. 'As mad as he makes me, I'd marry him again tomorrow.'
Charmaine gazed toward the largest and most menacing of the gods. Darnell Pruitt had left his silk shirt unbuttoned to the waist, revealing a brawny chest and a trio of gold chains. As the firelight turned his skin to polished ebony, he looked like an ancient African king. She pressed her fingertips to the base of her throat. 'I still don't quite understand it. He should terrify me.'
'Instead, it's the other way around.' Janine's smile held a trace of longing. 'Somebody lend me one of them. Just for the night.'
'Not mine,' Sharon said. The fact that Ron McDermitt was the smallest man around the fire and a self- proclaimed geek didn't dim his sexual megawattage one bit, not when the right pair of sunglasses turned him into a ringer for Tom Cruise.
One by one, the women's gazes fell on Heath. Lithe, square-jawed, his crisp brown hair dusted with gold from the fire, he stood in the exact center of this elite group of warriors, both one of them and somehow set apart. He was younger, and his battle-hardened edges had been honed at the negotiating table instead of on the gridiron, but that didn't make him any less commanding. This was a man to be reckoned with.
'Spooky how he fits right in,' Molly observed.
'It's the favorite trick of the undead,' Phoebe said tartly. 'Shape-shifters transform themselves into whatever people want to see.'
Annabelle suppressed a powerful urge to defend him.
'Harvard brains,
Phoebe tapped the toe of her sneaker against the dock. 'There's only one good use for a man like Heath Champion.'
'Here we go again,' Molly muttered.
Phoebe's lip curled. 'Target practice.'
'Stop it!' Annabelle rounded on her.
They all stared. Annabelle unclenched her hands and tried to retrench. 'What I mean is… I mean… If a man said something like that about a woman, people would throw him in jail. So, I don't… you know… think maybe a woman should say it about a man.'
Phoebe seemed fascinated by Annabelle's rebuke. 'The Python has a champion.'
'I'm just saying,' Annabelle murmured.
'She has a point.' Krystal began walking toward the beach.
'It's hard to raise male children with good self-esteem. That kind of thing doesn't help.'
'You're right.' Phoebe slipped her arm around Annabelle's waist. 'I'm the mother of a son, and I should know better. I'm just… a little uneasy. I've had so much more experience with Heath than you.'
Her concern was genuine, and Annabelle couldn't stay upset. 'You really don't have to worry.'
'It's hard not to. I feel guilty.'
'About what?'
Phoebe's steps slowed just enough so they fell behind the others. She patted Annabelle the same way she patted her children when she was worried. 'I'm trying to figure out a tactful way to say this, but I can't. You know, don't you, that he's manipulating you to get to me?'
'You can't blame him for trying,' Annabelle said quietly. 'He's a good agent. Everybody says so. Maybe it's time to let bygones be bygones.' She regretted her words the moment she spoke them. She knew nothing about the inner workings of the NFL, and she shouldn't presume to tell Phoebe how to run her empire.
But Phoebe merely sighed and dropped her hand from Annabelle's waist. 'There are no good agents. But at least some of them don't go out of their way to stab you in the back.'
Heath had scented danger, and he came striding toward her. 'Ron had his eye on the last brownie, Annabelle, but I snagged it first. I've seen how cranky you get if you go too long without chocolate.'
She was more of a caramel person, but she wouldn't contradict him in front of his archenemy, and she took the brownie he extended. 'Phoebe, do you want to split this?'
'I'll save my calories for another glass of wine.' Without even glancing at Heath, she walked away to join the others.
'So how's your plan working so far?' Annabelle said, studying Phoebe's back.
'She'll come around.'
'Not anytime soon.'
'Attitude, Annabelle. It's all about attitude.'
'So you've mentioned.' She handed him the brownie. 'You can work this off easier than me.'
He took a bite. From the beach, she heard Janine say she needed to finish the book before tomorrow. As everybody told her good night, Webster slipped another CD in the boom box, and a Marc Anthony song came on. Ron and Sharon began to salsa in the sand. Kevin grabbed Molly, and they joined in, executing the steps more gracefully than the McDermitts. Phoebe and Dan looked into each other's eyes, laughed, and began to dance, too.
Heath's fingers tightened around Annabelle's elbow. 'Let's take a walk.'
'No. They're suspicious enough as it is. And Phoebe knows exactly what you're up to.'
'Does she now?' He tossed the rest of the brownie in the trash. 'If you don't want to walk, let's dance.'
'Okay, but dance with the other women, too, so nobody gets suspicious.'
'Of what?'
'Molly thinks… Oh, never mind. Just spread your dubious charm around, okay?'
'Will you relax?' He grabbed her hand and led her back to the others.
It didn't take long for her to kick off her sandals and get into the spirit of the evening. After all the classes Kate had forced her to take, Annabelle was a good dancer. Either Heath had taken a few classes himself or he was a natural because he stayed right with her. When it came to mastering the social graces, he didn't seem to have missed a trick. The song came to an end, and Annabelle waited for the next one. With the water lapping the shore, a crackling fire, a star-spangled sky, and a frighteningly tempting man at her side, this was a romantic cliche of a night.
She couldn't handle a ballad-that would be too cruel. To her relief, the music stayed upbeat.
She danced with Darnell and Kevin, Heath with their wives. After a while, the couples drifted back together, and they stayed that way for the rest of the evening. Eventually, Kevin and Molly disappeared to check on their kids. Phoebe and Dan wandered away, hand in hand, for a stroll along the beach. The rest of them kept dancing, shedding their sweatshirts, mopping their brows, refreshing themselves with a cold beer or a glass of wine while the music urged them on. Annabelle's hair whipped her cheeks. Heath pulled a Travolta move that made them both laugh. They drank more wine, came together, slipped apart. Their hips touched, their legs rubbed, the blood surged through her veins. Krystal ground her bottom against her husband like a freak-dancing teenager. Darnell took his
