Dr. J. got so pale she started looking like the little girl in that old Brad Pitt vampire flick. “Are you- Are you saying you think I should pretend to be a prostitute?”

“A real high-class one because the Bomber doesn’t go for hookers.”

She rose from her chair and began pacing around the room. Jodie could almost see her nerd brain working away like a calculator, adding up this and that, pushing plus buttons and minus buttons, getting a look of hope around her eyes and then sagging back against the fireplace mantel.

“The health records…” She gave a deep, unhappy sigh. “Just for a moment I thought it might actually be possible, but I’d have to know his health history. Football players use steroids, don’t they? And what about STDs and AIDS?”

“The Bomber doesn’t touch drugs, and he’s never been too much for sleepin’ around, which is why the guys are setting this up. He broke up with his old girlfriend last winter and doesn’t seem to have been with anybody since.”

“I’d still have to know his medical history.”

Jodie figured between Junior and Willie, one of them could sweet-talk a secretary into giving her what she needed. “I’ll have a copy of his medical records by Tuesday, Wednesday at the latest.”

“I don’t know what to say.”

“His birthday is in ten days,” Jodie pointed out. “I guess what it all comes down to is whether or not you’ve got the guts to go for it.”

Chapter Two

What had she done? Jane Darlington’s stomach took a turn for the worse as she made her way into the ladies’ room at Zebras, where Jodie Pulanski had brought her to meet the football player who was driving her to Cal Bonner’s condominium that very night. Ignoring the women chatting at the basins, she headed into the nearest stall, latched it, and leaned her cheek against the cold metal divider.