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until she felt like she’d puke or pee herself. Many was the time she found herself begging for mercy. It was a mercy of the sweetest kind.

“Okay.” Cat paused, then let her words go in a rush. “I kissed her.”

“So?”

“So!? Jesus Christ, Lee! She’s my coach. My hero! My boss! I can’t kiss the boss.”

“Sounds like you already did.”

Cat sighed. “Yeah, I did,” she admitted quietly. “What am I gonna do?”

“What do you want to do?”

“I want to crawl under a rock and stay there until Pallas Dylan Lambert retires to some ski resort somewhere.”

“No an option. Next.”

Cat twirled the phone cord in her fingers. “I could apologize, I guess.”

“Are you sorry it happened?”

“No,” she answered quickly and then changed it. “Yes, I mean…” She paused and picked the comforter. “I don’t know exactly. I mean….I’m really attracted

to her.”

“There ya go then. Is she attracted to you?”

Cat blinked and looked at the phone. Replacing it to her ear, she licked her lips before answering. “I don’t know.”

“Have you ever though about…oh, I don’t know…asking her?”

“Are you insane?”

“Probably, but that’s besides the point. If you think she’s attracted to you, then ask her and figure out where to go from there. How did this kiss happen?”

“We were playing ball and I charged her, instead of moving she stayed there. I crashed into her and when we fell, I was on top of her and then I…I…well…”

“You kissed her.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Did she kiss you back?”

“Uh-huh.” Cat felt oddly adolescent.

“Ask her.”

“You’re not helping me here.”

“What do you want me to say Cat? Send her a dozen roses and an apology note? I’m not going to give you bad advice. I’m giving you honest advice. Ask her

how she feels.”

“Lee, I’m not like you. I can’t ask that.”

“All right. Then just let it drop and see how she’s acting. If she pulls back then accept her friendship. If she moves forward, jump her.”

Cat laughed, feeling better than she had in the last few hours. “You know, I knew there was a really good reason I called you.”

“Because I give great advice?”

“Because you’re full of shit and I really needed that tonight. I needed to get calmed down.”

“Anytime, darling. You know you can call me anytime. I’m always gonna be here for you.”

Cat smiled. “Thanks Lee.”

There was a moment of comfortable silence between them.

“Catherine?”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t be a chicken shit. You’ll never know unless you go for it.”

“Right. Bye Lee.”

“Bye Cat.”

She hung up the phone and then stripped of her robe and climbed into bed. “We’ll see how things go, huh buddy?” She scratched Hamlet behind the ears as

he turned and stretched out next to her.

Mac stepped out of his car, resisting the urge to jump right back in again as a huge, snarling beast lunged at him from the shadows of Dylan’s front porch.

“It’s okay, Brunhilde,” he said, trying to keep his voice as steady as possible, and his bladder from letting go all over his trousers. “It’s Mac. Remember

me?” The snarling continued. “Oh god, please remember me.”

Coming into the light, Brunhilde slowed, stopped, and sat on her haunches, still growling at the man she knew very well.

“Nice puppy. Niiiiice puppy.” He chanced a step away from the car.

Brunhilde barked.

He stepped back, and sighed.

“Look, girl, I know you’re just doing your job and all, but so am I. If I don’t get these papers signed by Dylan tonight, Johnson’s gonna have my ass.” He

sighed again. “And if I do get these papers to Dylan, you’re gonna have my ass.”

Brunhilde whined.

“Great,” he muttered. “It’s one in the morning and I’m talking to a damn dog.” He looked down at the bristling canine. “Ok, look, here’s what I’ll do. If you

let me go down so see your Mistress, the next time I come over, I’ll bring you the biggest, juiciest ham bone you’ve ever seen in your life. I won’t even

bring one for your brother. You can lord it over him all you want. How’s that sound, huh? Pretty good, right?”

Brunhilde cocked her head, appearing to consider the situation. Then, with a soft, chuffing bark, she stood down and allowed Mac to move away from the

car, though she glued herself to his side as he began to walk down the drive.

Knowing his friend well, Mac walked past the front door and around the side of the rambling house. Sure enough, the court at the bottom of the long hill

was brightly lit by the floodlights surrounding it, and Mac could hear the rhythmic sound of the basketball hitting the clay.

Siegfried, trashed out after a long day of play, didn’t even bother to get up as Mac strode onto the court. Dylan finished the shot she was making, then

turned to greet her visitor. Despite the late hour, she was covered with sweat, her jersey sticking to her in ways that made Mac—the most faithful of

husbands—acutely uncomfortable.

“Hey,” Dylan greeted, wiping the sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand.

“Hey yourself. What’s up? You’re not usually going this full out, especially this time of the night.”

Dylan shrugged as she bent to retrieve the ball. “Got some things on my mind, I guess.” She looked over at the sheaf of papers in Mac’s hand. “Those for

me?”