He waited for her to explode, but he should have known she wouldn't let him off so easily. Phoebe knew almost as much about playing games as he did.
"I think so," she said thoughtfully. "Let me see if I've got this straight. You're telling me that, because you didn't make it to the mountaintop, so to speak, I owe you a debt. When you look at me and you say now, I'm supposed to turn into your love slave. Do I have it right?"
"Yep." The sadness had faded from his eyes, and he was definitely beginning to enjoy himself.
"No matter what I'm doing."
"No matter what."
"No matter where you choose to take me."
"A broom closet, if I've a mind to. It's completely up to me." He was playing with fire and actually anticipating the moment it would flame out of control.
"If I'm at work?" she inquired with remarkable calm.
"There's a fifty-fifty chance that's exactly where you'll be."
"In a meeting?"
"You lift that curvy little butt of yours right out of the chair and follow me."
"In a meeting with the commissioner?"
"You say, 'I'm sorry, Mr. Commissioner, but I believe I have a case of the stomach flu coming on, so will you excuse me. And Coach Calebow, could you come with me just in case I happen to faint in the hall and need somebody to pick me up?' "
"I see." She looked thoughtful. "What if I'm doing an interview with-oh, let's say, Frank Gifford?"
"Frank's a good guy. I'm sure he'll understand."
The explosion was going to come any second now. He knew it.
She crinkled her forehead. "I just want to make absolutely certain I've got this right. You say now, and I'm supposed to turn into your-How was it you put it? Your personal playpen?"
"That's what I said." He braced himself.
"Playpen."
"Yep."
She took a deep breath and smiled. "Cool."
Stunned, he watched her slip through the door. When it shut, he threw back his head and laughed. She'd done it. She'd gotten him again.
Chapter 18
Molly had just walked in the door from school the next afternoon when the phone rang. She heard Peg moving about in the laundry room as she set her book bag on the kitchen counter and picked up the receiver. "Hello."
"Hi there, Miz Molly. It's Dan Calebow."
She smiled. "Hello, Coach Calebow."
"Say, I've got a little problem here, and I thought you might like to help me out."
"If I can."
"Now that's exactly what I like about you, Miz Molly. You have a cooperative nature, in contrast with another woman I could name, whose entire mission in life seems to be making things tough for a guy."
Molly decided he was talking about Phoebe.
"I was thinking about dropping by your house for an hour or so tonight with a couple of gen-u-ine Chicago pizzas. But you know how Phoebe is. She'd probably refuse to let me in the door if I asked her straight out, and even if she said it was okay, you've seen how she likes to pick fights with me. So I figure things would go a lot better if you'd invite me over. That way Phoebe'd have to be polite."
"Well, I don't know. Phoebe and I…"
"Is she still smackin' you? 'Cause if she is, I'm gonna have some words with her."
Molly caught her bottom lip between her teeth and murmured, "She doesn't hit me anymore."
"You don't say."
There was a long pause. Molly picked at the corner of a lavender spiral notebook that had fallen out of her book bag. "You know I wasn't telling the truth about that, don't you?"
"You weren't?"
"She wouldn't-Phoebe wouldn't ever hit anybody."
The coach murmured something that sounded like, "Don't count on it."
"Pardon me?"
"Nothing. You go on with what you were saying."
Molly wasn't ready to comment further about her relationship with Phoebe. It was too confusing. Sometimes Phoebe acted as if she really liked her, but how could that be when Molly wasn't even nice to her? More and more lately she'd wanted to be nice, but then she'd remember that her father had loved only Phoebe, and any good feelings she had toward her older sister evaporated. She did like Coach Calebow, however. He was funny and nice, and he'd made the kids at school notice her. She and Jeff talked every day at their lockers.
"I'd like it if you'd stop by tonight," she said. "But I don't want to be in the way."
"Now how could a sweet young lady like you be in the way?"
"Well, if you're sure."
"I certainly am. When Phoebe gets home, tell her that I'll be dropping by whenever I can get away. Will that be okay?"
"That'll be fine."
"And if she says she's not letting me in the door, you tell her you invited me and she can't weasel out. See you tonight, Miz Molly."
"See you."
Dan hung up Phoebe's telephone. He grinned down at her from his comfortable perch on the corner of her desk. "I'm coming over with pizza tonight. Your sister invited me."
Phoebe concealed her amusement. "Is it possible for you to do anything in a straightforward fashion? When you walked in my office less than three minutes ago, did it occur to you to simply ask me directly if you could stop by instead of telephoning Molly?"
"As a matter of fact, it didn't occur to me."
"Maybe I don't want to see you."
"Of course you do. Everybody knows I'm irresistible to women."
"In your dreams, Tonto."
"What are you so grouchy about?"
"You know what time the plane landed. I had to be here for an eight o'clock meeting, and I've only had a couple of hours of sleep."
"Sleep is highly overrated."
"For you, maybe, but not for those of us who are real human beings instead of cleverly designed androids programmed to stay awake all the time."
He chuckled, and she dug in her drawer for the bottle of aspirin she kept there. She still couldn't believe what had happened between them last night in the plane. When he'd issued that silly ultimatum at the end, she hadn't been able to resist sparring with him, despite the fact that she should know enough by now not to fall into his games, let alone try to beat him at them. Still, she couldn't suppress the hope that last night had changed things between them.
He would never know what a precious gift he had given her. She was no longer afraid of sexual intimacy, at least not with him. Somehow this good-looking, cocky, Alabama bruiser had helped her reclaim her womanhood. If only she weren't so afraid that he was also going to break her heart into a million pieces.
He transferred himself from the corner of her desk to the nearest chair. "We've got some unfinished business to take care of. If you'll remember, we got distracted last night before we completed our discussion."
She busied herself with the cap of the aspirin bottle. "Damn. I can never get these things off. I hate safety caps."
"Don't look at me. I can bench press 290, but I can't budge those suckers."
She fiddled with the cap and finally gave up. Dan was right. They needed to talk. Setting aside the bottle, she folded her hands on the desk in front of her. "Do you want to go first?"
"All right." He stretched out his legs and crossed them at the ankles. "It's pretty simple, I guess. I'm the head coach, and you're the owner. I'd appreciate it if you didn't tell me how to do my job, just like I don't tell you how to do yours."
Phoebe stared at him. "In case it's slipped your mind, you've been telling me how to do my job since you broke into my apartment in August."
He looked injured. "I thought we were going to have a discussion, not an argument. Just once, Phoebe, make a little effort to hold on to that quick temper of yours."
Her hand crept toward the aspirin bottle. She spoke slowly, softly. "Go on, Coach Calebow."
Her formal mode of address didn't deter him. "I don't want you to interfere with the team again before the game."