He turned his attention back to Forbes. She hesitated for only a moment before she leaned down and surreptitiously lifted the latch on the small dog carrier she had stowed beneath her legs.
Seconds later, the interior of the plane was filled with shrill yips as Pooh tore down the center aisle.
In the row of seats ahead of her, Dan's head shot up, and he whirled around to face her. "Damn it, Phoebe! You brought that dog with you!"
"Oops." Her lips formed a small, pink oval as she stood and squeezed past Ron. "Excuse me. I seem to have misplaced my pooch."
Ignoring Dan, she made her way into the coach section of the plane, where she immediately heard the rumble of male laughter. As she had hoped, the players welcomed the distraction Pooh was providing. The poodle scooted between their feet, scrambled over their carryons, and licked any uncovered human part she could reach.
Bobby Tom reached down to snare her, but she dodged and crouched between Webster Greer's feet. Phoebe couldn't help but laugh at the sight of Pooh's fluffy little head with its perky periwinkle bow perched on top of Webster's size fourteen sneakers. She gazed warily up the aisle at her mistress and tried to figure out how much trouble she'd gotten herself into.
"I don't think she wants you to catch her," Webster observed.
"She's not too fond of her carrier."
Since Pooh seemed to be doing fine on her own, Phoebe began chatting with the players nearby, asking them about their families, the books they were reading, the music they were listening to on their Walkmans. Pooh had moved on to curl over the prized right foot of the team's placekicker, but as Phoebe came closer, the dog darted across the aisle only to have Darnell Pruitt, the Stars' largest offensive tackle, scoop her up.
"This what you're looking for, Miss Somerville?"
Phoebe hesitated. Of all the men on the team, Darnell Pruitt was the most intimidating. A gold tooth studded with a half-carat diamond glistened in the front of his mouth, and heavy gold chains draped his black leather vest. He was shirtless beneath the vest, revealing a huge chest and heavily muscled forearms displayed in all their polished ebony glory. His eyes were hidden behind menacing black sunglasses, his nose was broad and flat, and a heavy scar puckered one shoulder. An article she had read just the day before in Sports Illustrated had described Darnell as one of the five meanest men in the NFL, and as she studied him, she saw no reason to disagree. She noticed that his teammates had left the seat next to him empty.
Even Pooh was intimidated. The poodle crouched on Darnell's lap, muzzle down, peering up at him with wary eyes. With a flash of alarm, Phoebe saw that she definitely looked nervous.
She quickly moved along the aisle, absolutely certain that it was not a good idea for Pooh to get nervous while she was sitting on Darnell Pruitt's lap. When she reached his row, she regarded him anxiously.
"Maybe-uh-I'd better take her."
"Sit down," he barked.
It was a command, not a request, and she collapsed into the empty seat like an accordion.
Darnell's chains rattled.
Pooh began to tremble.
Phoebe chose that inopportune moment to recall the quote Darnell had given Sports Illustrated. What I like most about football, he had said, is seeing my man being carried off the field.
She cleared her throat. "It's-uh-not a good idea for her to get nervous."
"Is that so?" he said belligerently. Scooping up the dog in hands the size of stove mitts, he brought the animal to eye level.
They stared at each other. Darnell's menacing black sunglasses reflected Pooh's round brown eyes. Phoebe held her breath as she waited for catastrophe. The seconds ticked by.
Pooh stuck out her long pink tongue and licked Darnell's cheek.
The diamond in Darnell's gold tooth flashed as he grinned. "I like this dog."
"I can't tell you how happy that makes me," Phoebe said on a single rush of breath.
Pooh nuzzled through Darnell's chains to cuddle closer. He stroked the dog's topknot where the periwinkle bow had come undone as usual. "My mama wouldn't let me have a dog when I was growin' up. She said she didn't want fleas in the house."
"Not all dogs have fleas. Pooh doesn't."
"I'm gonna tell her that. Maybe she'll let me have one now."
Phoebe blinked. "You live with your mother, Darnell?"
He grinned. "Yes, ma'am. She keeps threatenin' to move out, but I know she won't do it till I get married. She says she doesn't trust me to take care of myself."
"I see. Are you getting married soon?"
"Oh, no, ma'am. Not sayin' I don't want to, but life can get complicated, you know."
"I certainly do."
"Sometimes the ladies you're attracted to might not be attracted to you or vice versa."
She regarded him curiously. "Which one is it?"
"Pardon me?"
"Vice? Or versa? Is the lady attracted to you, but you're not attracted to her, or-"
"The other way around. I'm attracted to her, but she's not too crazy about me."
"That's hard for me to believe. I thought you football players could take your pick of women."
"You just try explainin' that to Miss Charmaine Dodd."
Phoebe adored hearing stories about people's love lives. Slipping off her loafers, she drew her legs beneath her. "Tell me about her. If you want to, that is."
"Well, she's a real stubborn lady. And stuck on herself. She's the organist at Mama's church, and the rest of the time she's a librarian. Shoot, she doesn't even dress right. Wears these prissy little skirts and blouses buttoned all the way up to her chin. Walks around with her nose in the air."
"But you like her anyway."
"Let's just say I can't seem to put her out of my mind. Unfortunately, the lady doesn't respect me in return because she's got a education, see, and I don't."
"You went to college."
For a moment he was silent. When he spoke, his tone was so quiet only she could hear him. "Do you know what college is like for somebody like me?"
"No, I don't."
"They take a kid like me, eighteen years old, never had much in life, and they say, 'Darnell, you play ball for us, and we'll take real good care of you. We'll give you a fine scholarship, and-You like cars, Darnell? 'Cause one of our alums got a big Chevy dealership, and he sure would like to give you a shiny new Corvette as a sign of his appreciation for choosing our fine university. We'll take good care of you, Darnell. We'll give you a high-payin' summer job, except-dig this-you won't even have to show up for work. And don't worry too much about your classes, 'cause we're gonna sign you up for some independent studies.' " He regarded her through the dark lenses of his sunglasses. "You know what independent study meant for somebody like me? It meant, I work my man over real good on Saturday afternoons, and I got an A when the grades came out."
He shrugged. "I never graduated, and now I got all kinds of money. But sometimes I think it don't matter. What good does money do when a lady like Charmaine Dodd starts talkin' to you 'bout some white dude wrote this famous poem she loves, and her eyes get all lit up, but you don't know jack about poetry, or literature, or anything else she thinks is important?"
Silence fell between them. Pooh had worked her muzzle into the crook of Darnell's neck and was snoring softly.
"What's stopping you from going back to school?"
"Me? Aw, no, I couldn't do that. Football takes up too much time."
"Maybe you could go during the off-season." She smiled. "Why don't you ask Miss Dodd what she thinks of the idea?"
"She'd laugh at me."
"If she laughs at you, then you've got the wrong woman for sure."
"I wasn't ever much of a student," he admitted with obvious reluctance.
"Probably because nobody expected you to be."
"I don't know."
"Come on, Darnell. You chicken?"
He glowered at her.
"Just kidding," she said hastily. "The fact that you're not a natural student could work to your advantage." She grinned. "You might have to request some private tutoring."