“Sorry I couldn’t get here earlier,” Clint said. “I saw that crap in the papers, and I heard Phoebe’s all stirred up about it. I want you to know I’m here for you, T-Bo.”

Thad slapped him on the back. “Appreciate it. As a matter of fact, I’m glad you’re here.”

Clint regarded him suspiciously. “Why’s that?”

“I have to go out, and I need you to stay with Liv.”

Olivia came out of her down dog. “I don’t need anybody to stay with me.”

“Yeah, she does.” He gave Clint more details of the New Orleans attack and mentioned the threatening letters. “There’s been some other nastiness. A phone call, a couple of packages. She also has a stalker named Rupert.”

Olivia reared up. “Rupert is not a—”

Thad continued, ignoring her. “I don’t trust hotel security. Point of fact—you didn’t have any trouble getting up here. Plus, she has a habit of running off.”

“I do not—”

“I need to slip out for a couple of hours.” He gave Clint another tap on the back. “Can you keep an eye on her?”

“Sure.”

“I don’t need a babysitter,” the yogi huffed from the window.

“She’s slippery,” Thad said. “Don’t let her get away from you.”

“I am not slip—”

“Got it,” Clint said. “Can I make out with her?”

Bastard. “You can try. Doubt you’ll succeed.” On the other hand, Clint was a good-looking guy, and he met The Diva’s most important requirement in a lover: no possibility of a relationship.

Thad eyeballed The Diva. “Clint’s not the brightest guy in the world, and sex is the only way he knows how to relate to women. I don’t think you’ll fall for his routine, but if you do . . . make sure he’s got that herpes outbreak under control.”

Clint laughed and pounded Thad extra hard on the back. “You’re one of a kind, dude.”

The Diva smiled. “I don’t need a babysitter, but it would be lovely to be with someone who’s not bossing me around.”

“I know what you mean,” Clint said. “Boy, do I ever know what you mean.”

Thad glared at him. “Do not let her out of your sight.”

“Roger that.”

Thad met his pals that night, but he didn’t have a good time. He was too busy thinking about what might be going on back at the hotel.

* * *

“That part always gets me.” Clint’s voice was suspiciously woolly with emotion. “‘You complete me.’ Everybody talks about that other thing. That ‘had me at hello’ thing, but when he says, ‘You complete me.’ What kind of dude says something like that? But still . . . It gets me.”

Olivia wiped her eyes as the credits rolled on Jerry Maguire. “Why have I never seen this movie? I know why. Because I thought it was about football.”

“Not enough action.” Recovering from his brief emotional display, he draped his arm over the back of the couch. “If T-Bo asks, tell him we watched The Waterboy.”

The leg she’d been sitting on had gone to sleep, and she pulled it out from under her. “Isn’t that one of those Adam Sandler movies?”

He nodded. “It’s most players’ favorite.”

“Because Jerry Maguire is too girlie, right?”

“I wouldn’t exactly say that.”

“Then what would you say?”

“It’s too girlie.”

She laughed and rose from the couch, wriggling her numb leg to get the blood moving again. “I’m going to bed, and you don’t have to stay. Really. Thad’s being ridiculous.”

“S’okay. I’ll just hang out here for a while.”

“Don’t be such a wimp. You’re not his bitch.”

“Says you.”

“You shouldn’t let him talk to you like he does.” She sat back down. “I did a little research, and you have a higher quarterback rating after your second season than Dean Robillard did, and I know he’s supposed to have been this big shot Stars player. But Thad treats you like you’re a high school kid.”

Clint nodded. “In football, you have to earn respect.”

“And you haven’t done that?”

“Not the kind of respect I want from him.”

“But you’re a better player than he is. That’s what I don’t understand. You’re the starter. Not him.”

“It’s not that simple. I’m faster than he is, and my arm’s stronger. But T-Bo . . . He’s this wizard. Even with his vision thing, he can find a receiver where nobody else can, and the way he reads a defense . . . It’s like he’s got ESP. I have to learn how to do what he does.”

“Even if it means putting up with his abuse?”

“Me and T-Bo . . . We have an understanding. I love the guy.” He regarded her more sharply. “Now when it comes to T-Bo and women . . . you might want to be careful.”

“You don’t have to warn me. I’ve never been more clearheaded about anyone. No man is going to derail me.” She could see he didn’t believe her, and she tried to explain. “The three of us . . . You, Thad, me . . . We’re not like most other people. Our work comes first.”

He nodded and then grinned. “Do you want to mess with him?”

She tilted her head. “What do you have in mind?”

* * *

Where the hell was she? When he’d returned to the hotel and found the suite empty, he’d texted her and gotten no response. Then he’d texted the idiot he’d stupidly left to watch her.

Crickets.

He stalked to the lobby and talked to a bellman who’d seen Garrett drive off with The Diva in his Maserati GT convertible.

Thad told himself she’d be fine. The idiot wasn’t an idiot. He’d keep her safe. But . . .

She should have been sound asleep here in the suite with Garrett standing guard outside her bedroom door.

He paced the floor like a parent waiting for a kid who’d violated curfew.

Half an hour passed. An hour. Finally, he heard them laughing in the hallway. Fucking laughing!

The door opened. She was all rumpled. Her dress had a swirly skirt, her hair was down and tangled, and she was barefoot, carrying her heels. What mainly struck him about Garrett was how young the kid looked. The epitome of youthful manliness. No fine lines webbed his eyes, no brackets ridged his mouth, and he’d bet anything that Garrett’s knees didn’t creak when he got out of bed in the morning.