"Tully told me you were out here," Ron said. "I need some information about Zeke Claxton."

The hoop vibrated as Dan slammed the ball through. "Phoebe isn't happy with my coaching!" He spat out the words, then threw the ball at Ron's chest with so much force that the general manager stumbled backward.

"Take it in," Dan roared.

Ron looked down at the ball as if it were a grenade with the pin already pulled. He had observed Dan's murderous games of one-on-one when he was upset over something, and he had no intention of getting involved. Assuming an expression of deep regret, he gestured toward his newest navy suit. "I'm sorry, Dan, but I have a meeting, and I'm not dressed for-"

"Take it in, goddammit!"

Ron took it in.

Dan let him shoot, but Ron was so nervous that the ball bounced off the backboard well above the rim. Dan snatched the rebound and dribbled viciously to center court. Ron stood nervously on the sidelines trying to figure out how to get away.

"Guard me, for chrissake!"

"Actually, I was never too good at basketball."

"Guard me!"

Ron did his best, but Dan was nearly a foot taller and forty pounds heavier, as well as being a professional athlete instead of a born klutz.

"Move in closer! Use your elbows, for chrissake! Do what you friggin' have to to get the friggin' ball!"

"Uh-Elbows are illegal, Dan, and I-"

Dan stuck out his foot and deliberately tripped him.

As Ron sprawled to the concrete, he heard the knee of his new navy trousers rip. He felt the sting in the heels of his hands and looked up in outrage. "You did that on purpose!"

Dan's lip curled. "So what are you going to do about it, pussy?"

Furious, Ron scrambled to his feet and threw off his suit coat. "I'm going to shove that ball down your throat, you smug son of a bitch."

"Not if you play by the rules." Dan held the ball out, deliberately taunting him.

Ron went after him. He slammed his elbow into Dan's gut and punched the ball free with his opposite fist. It shot across the court. He raced after it, but Dan beat him there and snatched it up. As the coach spun toward him with the ball, Ron punched him hard in the ribs then kicked at the back of his bad knee, knocking him off-balance. Before Dan could recover, Ron had the ball and drove to the basket, making a perfect shot.

"Now you're getting the idea." Dan grabbed the ball.

Ron moved in. Unfortunately, his violent bump didn't keep Dan from making his next shot. Ron took the ball, butted Dan with his head, and dribbled to the edge of the court, where he just missed.

The ensuing battle was vicious, fought with flying fists, jabbing elbows, illegal trips, and teeth. Dan, however, played clean.

When it was over, Ron examined the damage. He had destroyed his suit, bruised his hand, and only lost by three baskets. It was the proudest moment of his life.

The watery autumn sun came out from behind a cloud as the two of them collapsed on the grass next to the court to catch their breath. Ron propped his forearms on his bent knees, sucked in air, and gazed with deep satisfaction at the goose egg puffing up Dan's left eyebrow.

"I'm afraid you're going to have quite a shiner there." He tried, but couldn't quite hold back his glee.

Dan laughed and swiped at his dripping forehead with the sleeve of his knit shirt. "Once you stopped playing like a debutante, you came on strong. We'll have to do it again."

Yes! Ron wanted to throw his arms in the air like Rocky on the museum steps but contented himself with a macho grunt.

Dan stretched out his legs, crossing them at the ankles as he leaned back on the heels of his hands. "Tell me something, Ron. Do you think I've been pushing the men too hard?"

Ron pulled off his ruined necktie. "Physically, no."

"That's not what I'm asking."

"If you want to know whether or not I approve of what Phoebe did in the locker room, I don't. She should have talked to you about her concerns first."

"She says I can't handle criticism."

He looked so outraged that Ron laughed.

"I don't see what's so damned funny."

"You can't handle criticism, and the fact is, you deserved some. Phoebe's right. You have been driving the men too hard, and it was affecting their mental attitude."

Ron probably wouldn't have been so blunt if he still weren't on an adrenaline high. To his amazement, Dan didn't explode. Instead, he managed to look injured.

"It seems to me that as the Stars' general manager, you might have worked up enough gumption to talk to me about the problem yourself instead of sending a woman who doesn't know a thing about football to do the job."

"That's exactly what she said to me this morning."

"She go after you, too, huh?"

"I don't think she's too crazy about either one of us right now."

The men stared at the empty basketball court. Dan shifted his weight and the dry leaves rustled beneath him. "That was some sweet win last night."

"It really was."

"Her locker room speech is gonna go down in football history."

"I'll never forget it."

"She sure doesn't know much about football."

"In the third quarter she cheered when we went offside."

Dan chuckled, then gave a long contented sigh. "I guess, all in all, Phoebe's working out better than either of us could've expected."

"Dan!" After their argument that afternoon, Phoebe was stunned to see the Stars' coach standing on her doorstep holding a deep-dish pizza box. It was nearly ten o'clock, and her makeup had long ago worn off. She was dressed for comfort in a faded pair of fake-Pucci leggings with a baggy purple sweater that barely covered her rear.

"I wasn't expecting you." She pushed her reading glasses to the top of her head and stepped aside to let him in.

"I can't imagine why not. I told you I'd be here."

"That was before our altercation."

"Altercation?" He looked annoyed. "That was nothing more than a business discussion, is what it was. You get riled about the strangest things." He shut the door.

Phoebe was spared a response by Pooh, who scampered into the foyer, yapping and shivering with bliss when she saw who had come to call. Phoebe took the pizza box and watched with amusement as the dog circled Dan's legs so rapidly that she skidded on the floor.

He regarded the poodle warily. "She's not going to pee, is she?"

"Not if you kiss her and call her 'sugar pie'."

He chuckled and leaned down to give the dog a macho knuckle rub on her topknot. Pooh immediately flopped to her back so he could get to her tummy.

"Don't push it, dawg."

The poodle took his rejection good-naturedly and followed them through the living room to the kitchen.

"What happened to your eye?"

"What eye? Oh, this? Basketball game. Your GM plays dirty ball."

She stopped in her tracks. "Ron did that to you?"

"That boy's got a mean streak a mile wide. I'd advise you to stay clear of him when he gets riled."

She didn't believe for a minute that Ron had done that to him, but she knew from the glimmer in his eye that she wouldn't get any more out of him.

Molly's face lit up as they came into the kitchen, and she rose from the table where she had just been gathering up her homework. "Dan! Phoebe said you weren't coming."

"Well now, Phoebe doesn't know everything, does she? Sorry for arriving so late, but Mondays are long days for coaches."

Phoebe knew that Dan and his assistants generally worked till midnight on Mondays and she suspected that he would return to the Stars Complex as soon as he left here. She appreciated the fact that he was keeping his promise to Molly.

As she set plates and napkins on the table, he said, "I hope you ladies didn't eat so much dinner that you don't have room for a little bedtime snack."

"I do," Molly said.

"Me, too." Phoebe had already blown her fat intake for the day with a chocolate eclair, so what difference did a few hundred more grams make?

Dan took a seat at one end of the kitchen table, and as they all helped themselves to a gooey slab of the thick pie, he asked Molly about school. Without any more encouragement than that, she chattered on about her new best friend, Lizzie, her classes, and her teachers, effortlessly presenting him with all the information Phoebe had been trying to drag out of her for days.

Molly reached for her second piece of pizza. "And guess what else? Mrs. Genovese, our neighbor next door, hired me to baby-sit her twin boys for a few hours after school on Tuesdays and Fridays. They're three and a half years old, and they're so cute, but she says she needs a break sometimes because they wear her out. She's paying me three dollars an hour."

Phoebe set down her fork. "You didn't say anything to me about this."

Molly's expression grew mulish. "Peg said I could. Now I suppose you're going to tell me I can't."

"No. I think it will be a good experience for you. I just wish you'd talked to me about it."

Dan observed the exchange between the two of them, but didn't comment.

Half an hour later, Phoebe thanked him as she walked with him to the door. As she had suspected, he was returning to the Stars Complex for a late-night session to finalize the week's game plan against their crosstown rivals, the Bears.

He reached for the knob, but hesitated before he turned it. "Phoebe, I'm not saying you were right about what we discussed today, and I definitely don't like the way you went about handling the problem, but I'm going to keep an open mind about what you said."

"Fair enough."

"In return, I want you to promise me that you'll tell me right out if you've got a problem with my coaching."