At every one of these conferences, Cal was forced to look the reporters straight in the eye and go on and on about Kevin’s talent and how much he appreciated his support and how both of them only wanted what was best for the team. Then Kevin would start in about all the respect he had for Cal and how privileged he was just to be part of the Stars. It was all bull. The reporters knew it. The fans knew it. Cal and Kevin sure knew it, but, still, they had to go through the motions.
When Cal got to his room, he loaded a videocassette of the Colts’ last game into the VCR that the hotel had provided and kicked off his shoes. As he lay back on the bed to watch, he pushed thoughts of Kevin Tucker aside to concentrate on the Colts’ defensive line. He fast-forwarded to the second quarter and pushed the play button, then watched until he found what he wanted. He hit the rewind button and watched again.
With his gaze firmly fixed on the screen, he unwrapped his pillow mint and ate it. Unless his eyes were playing tricks, their safety had a bad habit of signaling a blitz by looking twice toward the sideline. Cal smiled and tucked the information away.
Jane stood in front of Cal Bonner’s hotel-room door dressed in the ecru silk suit and taking deep breaths. If tonight didn’t work, she would have to learn to live with self-pity because she couldn’t go through this again.
She realized she’d forgotten to take off her glasses, and she quickly stuck them into her purse, then hitched the gold-chain strap higher on her shoulder. If only she had some of Jodie’s little relaxation pills, this might be easier, but tonight she was on her own. Summoning all her will-power, she raised her hand and knocked.
The door swung open. She saw a bare chest. Blond chest hair. A pair of green eyes.
“I—I’m sorry. I seem to have the wrong room.”
“I guess that depends on who you’re looking for, buttercup.”
He was young, perhaps twenty-four or twenty-five, and arrogant. “I was looking for Mr. Bonner.”
“Aren’t you lucky, then, because you found something better. I’m Kevin Tucker.”
She finally recognized him from the televised games she’d been watching, although he looked younger without his helmet. “I was told Mr. Bonner was in 542.” Why had she trusted Jodie to get the correct information?
“You were told wrong.” His mouth grew faintly sullen, and she gathered that she’d insulted him by not recognizing him.
“Do you happen to know where he might be?”
“Oh, I know, all right. What kind of business do you have with the old man?”
What kind of business, indeed? “It’s private.”
“I’ll just bet it is.”
His leer annoyed her. This young man definitely needed to be put in his place. “I happen to be his spiritual advisor.”
Tucker threw back his head and laughed. “Is that what they call it? Well, I sure hope you can help him deal with all his problems about getting old.”
“I keep the conversations I have with my clients confidential. Could you please tell me his room number?”
“I’ll do you one better. I’ll take you there.”
She saw wily intelligence in his eyes and knew that even with his good looks and glow of health, he was far too bright ever to be a candidate to father her child. “You don’t have to do that.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t miss it for the world. Just let me get my key.”
He got his key, but he didn’t bother with either a shirt or shoes, and he padded barefoot down the hallway. They rounded a corner and went down another corridor before they stopped in front of 501.
It was difficult enough facing Cal without having an onlooker, so she quickly extended her hand and shook his. “Thank you very much, Mr. Tucker. I appreciate your help.”
“No problem.” He withdrew his hand and banged his knuckles twice against the door.
“I believe I can take it from here. Thank you again.”
“You’re welcome.” He made no move to leave.
The door swung open, and Jane caught her breath as she once again found herself face-to-face with Cal Bonner. Next to the youthful glory of Kevin Tucker, he looked more battleworn than she remembered, and, if anything, more formidable: a case-hardened King Arthur to Tucker’s callow Lancelot. She hadn’t remembered quite how powerful his presence was, and she fought an instinctive urge to step back.
Tucker’s drawl seemed deliberately insolent. “Look what I found wandering around, Calvin. Your personal spiritual advisor.”
“My what?”
“I was given Mr. Tucker’s room number by mistake,” she said hastily. “He graciously offered to escort me here.”