“So Trent says.”

“I think he can lead the Mustangs to the Super Bowl this year and win,” Rana said confidently. She laid her hand on Trent ’s thigh in one of those unplanned gestures that says so much about the level of intimacy in a relationship.

Trent emitted an exaggerated sigh and stretched his arms out along the back of the love seat. “The lady adores me,” he said expansively.

Rana socked him playfully in the stomach. They engaged in a skirmish of batting hands that resulted in an affectionate hug.

“ Trent tells me you paint, or something,” Tom said to Rana when they finally settled down.

“More like ‘or something.’ I paint on clothing, but I’m diversifying. I’m thinking of going into upholstery-sofa cushions and accent pillows, that sort of thing.”

Tom nodded, but she didn’t think he had any concept of what she was talking about. Barry had suggested that if the wealthy women of Houston were willing to spend hundreds on original hand-painted clothing, they might be just as willing to pay thousands to have an original hand- painted chair or chaise or sofa. Rana had given it careful thought and then had bounced the idea off Trent. He had given it his wholehearted endorsement.

“Do some up,” he had suggested. “To see how they catch on, we could place them in a few of the prime properties my company is handling.”

“That’s where I’ve been today,” Rana told Tom now. “I went to a textile-surplus warehouse to buy fabric.” She indicated the large package she had left in the doorway when Trent escorted her into the parlor. “speaking of which,” she said as she stood up, “I’ll excuse myself to go upstairs and get to work.”

“Can’t you relax and visit awhile longer” Trent said, catching her arm.

“I’m sure you and Tom have a lot to talk about, so I’ll leave you alone. It was nice to meet you, Tom.”

He stood up, shuffling his feet awkwardly. “Likewise.”

“See you later, darling.” Trent tugged on her wrist and pulled her down for a lengthy kiss. When she straightened back up, she nodded self-consciously at Tom. After retrieving her package she went upstairs.

Trent watched her go, a smile on his lips. He was remembering last night. His loins stirred with the memory of how good her hair felt brushing against his thighs. Once she was out of sight, he turned back to Tom, who was sitting with his big feet spread wide, staring at the floor between them.

“Well, what do you think” Trent asked, taking a long pull on his can of beer.

Tom twiddled his thumbs, cleared his throat, rolled his shoulders, blew out a gust of air, and finally raised his head. “I think you’re probably the cruelest, coldest, most self-centered sonofabitch I’ve ever known.”

Trent slowly lowered the can of beer. He kept his eyes riveted on Tom as he set it on the coffee table. They stared at each other for a long moment; then Trent laughed shortly. “Any particular reason why?”

Tom stood up and began prowling the room with a notable absence of grace. On the football field he could make impossible catches, leaping between three defenders to come up with the football. But now, he bumped into a tea table, upset a scrimshaw sculpture, and caught his toe in the corner of the rug. Finally, he made it across the obstacle course of the parlor to the window.

“For what you’re doing to this woman,” he said in a low voice.

“What I’m doing to this woman has brought each of us a tremendous amount of pleasure. Not that it’s any of your damn business,” Trent said tightly.

Tom turned around abruptly, controlling his temper only a trifle more successfully than Trent. “You asked my opinion, remember? All right, you’re going to get it. I think the way you’re manipulating this woman is beneath even you, Trent.”

“‘Even me’?”

“Yeah, even you. I’ve seen you break dozens of female hearts. But most of the women you’ve dumped could take it. They had other interests. They had a lot of things going for them. Looks. Plenty of money. And other guys waiting in the wings. I’m not sure this woman can survive you.”

“I hate to keep repeating you, but ‘survive’?”

“What happens to her when you go off to summer camp?”

“She stays here. She sure as hell can’t go and bunk with me. What happens to team wives when the married guys leave for summer camp or travel during the season? I don’t get your drift, Tom.”

“Then I’ll be more specific. What happens to her when you return from training camp, move back into your Houston house, and resume your old lifestyle?”

“Once the season starts, my time won’t be my own. My job will cut our time together. Don’t you think I realize that?”

“Then you intend to go on seeing her?”

“Yes, dammit. What did you think?”

“You intend to make her part of your life in Houston?”

“Yes.”

Tom shook his head in bafflement. “And do you honestly think she’ll fit in? That she’ll feel comfortable with your circle of friends?”

“Why shouldn’t she?”

“Why? Aw, come on, Gamblin. I’m your best friend. You don’t have to pull this dumb act with me. Look at her,” he cried, pointing toward the stairs. “Does she look like the women you usually romance?”

Trent went rigid with fury. His powerful hands balled into fists at his sides. “I think you’d better leave.”

“Like hell I will. I’m not saying this to hurt your feelings. I’m only pointing out what is already so plainly obvious in order to spare her a broken heart. Believe me, my sympathies are all with her.”

“Well, thank you very much, but she doesn’t need your sympathies. And just what is it that’s so plainly obvious to you?”

“That you’re using this woman to salve your ego, just as you’ve used this time away to heal your shoulder. She’s just what you needed. As you said yourself, the lady adores you. It’s apparent from the way she looks at you. It would be easy for any woman to fall for you, Trent. Hell, I’m a man, and I’m straight, but do you think I’m blind? You’re handsome. You’re a hunk. You’re a superstar in the sports world, and according to all reports I’ve heard-usually from women crying their hearts out over you-you’re a superstud in bed. What woman wouldn’t fall in love with you? Any man would envy the luck you have with women, but I think you’re a real bastard for taking advantage of it with this lady.”

Trent placed his hands on his hips and tilted his head back in a challenging stance. “And just how am I doing that, Mr. Psychology Professor?” he asked, prodding his friend where he knew it would hurt the most. Tom Tandy had majored in psychology and had even earned a doctorate. But he felt that a “dumb jock” wouldn’t have much credibility in that field, so he had given up his dream to actually practice.

Tom, rocking on the balls of his feet in an effort to stem his anger, answered calmly. He raised his large hands and began ticking off examples on his fingers. “In the last year you’ve squired a campus queen from the University of Texas whose daddy owns practically all of downtown Fort Worth; a young widow who controls not only her late husband’s cattle empire, but the minds of the social set in West Texas; a woman who chairs a bank in Corpus Christi; and a princess whose royal father is living out the rest of his life in this country in exile. Shall I go on?”

Trent crossed his arms on his chest. “Please do, and get to the point.”

“The point is that in each instance, your relationship with the woman rocked along fine… as long as you were winning. You lose a football game, and zip, the love affair is off. Zilch. Finis.”

Trent shifted uncomfortably and turned his back on Tom, ostensibly to straighten an ashtray on the coffee table. “So I get moody after a loss. So?”

“Uh-uh. It’s more than moodiness, my friend. You have to be top dog in the relationship. The star. You don’t want your woman to outshine you in any shape, form, or fashion.