ooked thoughtful. “Well, Paul, what we’re gonna have to do is hang on to the ball. Now, not having played the game yourself, you might not know this, but every time we let the other team take the ball away from us, it means we don’t have it ourselves. And that ain’t no way to put points on the board.”
Jodie chuckled. She had to hand it to the Bomber. He’d gotten old Paul right in the numbers with that one.
Paul didn’t appreciate being made to look like a fool. “I hear Coach Raskin’s been real happy with the way Kevin Tucker’s been looking in practice. You’re going to be thirty-six soon, which makes you an old man in a young man’s game. Any worries Kevin’ll be taking over as starter?”
For a fraction of a second, the Bomber’s face stiffened up like a big old poker, then he shrugged. “Shoot, Paul, this ol’ boy ain’t ready for the grave yet.”
“If only I could find somebody like him,” Dr. Jane whispered. “He’d be perfect.”
Jodie glanced over and saw her studying the television. “What are you talking about?”
Dr. J. gestured toward the screen. “That man. That football player. He’s healthy, physically attractive, and not very bright. Exactly what I’m looking for.”
“Are you talking about the Bomber?”
“Is that his name? I don’t know anything about football.”
“That’s Cal Bonner. He’s the starting quarterback for the Chicago Stars.”
“That’s right. I’ve seen his picture in the paper. Why can’t I meet a man like that? Someone who’s a bit of a dim bulb.”
“Dim bulb?”
“Not very intelligent. Slow.”
“Slow? The Bomber?” Jodie opened her mouth to tell Dr. Jane that the Bomber was the smartest, trickiest, most talented—not to mention meanest—sonovabitchen quarterback in the whole freakin’ NFL when this big dizzy rush hit her smack in the middle of her head, an idea so wild she couldn’t believe it had even come into her brain.
She sank back into the couch cushions. Holy shit. She fumbled for the remote and pushed the mute button. “Are you serious? You’d choose somebody like Cal Bonner to be the father of your baby?”
“Of course I would—assuming I could see his medical records. A simple man like that would be perfect: strength, endurance, and a low IQ. His good looks are an added bonus.”
Jodie’s mind ran in three different directions all at once. “What if…” She swallowed and tried not to get distracted by an image of Kevin Tucker standing naked right in front of her. “What if I could arrange it?”
“What are you talking about?”
“What if I could set it up so you could get Cal Bonner in bed?”
“Are you joking?”
Jodie swallowed again and shook her head.
“But I don’t know him.”
“You wouldn’t have to.”
“I’m afraid I don’t understand.”
Slowly, Jodie told her story, leaving out a part here and there—like what a badass the Bomber was—but pretty much being honest about the rest. She explained about the birthday present and the kind of woman the guys wanted. Then she said that with a little cosmetic enhancement, she thought Dr. J. herself could fit the bill.
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.”