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 mad, Jason. I have to do what Ronnie tells me. He gets all upset if I don't behave like a real businesswoman."

Dan was grateful no one was paying any attention to him because he'd gotten dizzy from the altitude. He had to hand it to the kid, however. Ron leaned back in his chair with the smug look of a mafioso who had controlling interest in a concrete block company.

Keane's attitude underwent a subtle transformation, and he regarded Phoebe in a manner that was both unfriendly and patronizing. The thought passed through Dan's mind that Keane, for all his smarts, had better take care. Dan knew from past experience how easy it was to get suckered by these two con artists.

"I have to warn you that the whole thing sounds much too tentative to me. It's extremely doubtful the League would agree to a third pro team in the New York City area. If I were you, I wouldn't set my heart on moving the Stars to Manhattan."

Phoebe gave the same giggle that only ten minutes earlier had set Dan's back teeth on edge. Now it sounded as musical as church bells. How could he ever have doubted her? Not only was she smart as a whip, but she had guts.

"That's exactly what Ronnie said," she chirped, "but I have a backup plan."

"You do?"

She leaned closer. "You wouldn't believe how much Baltimore wants its own NFL team. Ever since the-" She looked down the table at Dan, and he finally knew her well enough to recognize the glitter in her eyes. As he kept his expression inscrutable, his chest swelled with pride.

"What was the name of that team that left Baltimore?" she inquired.

"The Colts."

"Right. Ever since the Colts left, Baltimore's been dying to get another team. And then there's Orlando." An expression of pure bliss settled over her face. "Those men are the sweetest guys in the world. Last week when we talked, they presented me with the cutest little Montblanc pen with gold mouse ears on it." She gave a soft, Minnie-like squeal and sighed with pleasure. "Oh, I just love Orlando. Their stadium site is right next to Disney World."

Keane looked stunned.

"So you see, I do know how to be a tough businesswoman." She slipped her napkin from her lap and stood. "Now if you gentlemen will excuse me, I need to make a trip to the little girls' room. And, Ronnie, you be civil to Jason while I'm gone. You've gotten everything you want, so you can afford to be gracious."

As she walked away from the table, she took all of their eyes with her. The door shut.

Dan wanted to jump to his feet and give her a standing ovation. At that moment, he knew without doubt that he couldn't marry Sharon Anderson, and he felt as if a huge weight had been lifted from his shoulders. Phoebe filled his heart, not Sharon, and he was going to have to rethink everything. The future he'd been so certain about was now murky, a fact that should have depressed him. Instead, he experienced a surge of exhilaration.

Jason threw his napkin on the table, jumped to his feet, and rounded on Dan. "I thought we were friends! What the hell is going on here?"

Dan concealed his elation with a shrug. "It's front office business. I don't get involved."

"Not even when your football team may end up wearing fucking mouse ears on their helmets!"

Dan set down his coffee cup and deliberately wiped the corner of his mouth with his napkin. "Considering her past history, I think Baltimore's more likely. It's closer to Manhattan."

Jason turned his anger on Ron. "This is all your doing, McDermitt. You've manipulated that fucking birdbrain! My God, you're leading her around by the fucking nose!"

Ron's smile revealed the teeth of a baby shark. "I've done what I had to, Keane. You've been screwing us over for years, and I finally found a way to stop you. Bert would never consider moving the team, but Phoebe doesn't have his sense of tradition, and it was quite easy to persuade her to look elsewhere. She has wonderful connections, you know, and I don't inquire too closely into how she's made them. One day she's on the phone with Trump. The next day with Disney. They've promised low rents, hefty concession percentages. They'll pick up the tab for security. I realize this will leave you with an empty stadium, but perhaps the Bears-"

"Fuck the Bears!" Keane shouted. "Do you think I want McCaskey breathing down my ass?" His eyes traveled from Ron to Dan and back again. And then they narrowed suspiciously. He turned to his attorney. "Stand outside the door and keep Phoebe occupied if she comes back. O'Brian, get Trump on the phone."

Dan could see the flicker of alarm in Ron's eyes, and he couldn't suppress his own dismay. You gave it your best shot, Phoebe, he thought. Unfortunately, Keane wasn't as easily suckered in as he had been.

A heavy silence descended on the room as the men waited for the call to go through. After several moments of muted conversation, O'Brian passed the phone over to his employer.