Dan Calebow hadn't spared Viktor a glance, so it wasn't difficult for the Hungarian to categorize him as one of those maddening men who was completely close-minded on the subject of an alternative lifestyle. A pity, but an attitude Viktor accepted with his characteristic good nature.

Phoebe might not recognize Dan Calebow, but Viktor followed American football and knew that Calebow had been one of the NFL's most explosive and controversial quarterbacks until he had retired five years ago to take up coaching. In midseason last fall Bert had fired the Stars' head coach and hired Dan, who had been working for the rival Chicago Bears' organization, to fill the position.

Calebow was a big, blond lion of a man who carried himself with the authority of someone who had no patience for self-doubt. A bit taller than Viktor's own six feet, he was more muscular than most professional quarterbacks. He had a high, broad forehead and a strong nose with a small bump at the bridge. His bottom lip was slightly fuller than his top, and a thin white scar marked the point midway between his mouth and chin. But his most fascinating feature wasn't either that interesting mouth, his thick tawny hair, or the macho chin scar. Instead, it was a pair of predatory sea-green eyes, which were, at that moment, surveying his poor Phoebe with such intensity that Viktor half expected her skin to begin steaming.

"I'm real sorry about Bert," Calebow said, his Alabama boyhood still evident in his speech. "We surely are going to miss him."

"How kind of you to say so, Mr. Calebow."