Jack's bare feet paced back and forth in front of the twenty-foot wide windows that formed most of the southeast wall of his loft apartment. He was in his long white terri robe, drying his hair with a towel in one hand and carrying a phone receiver in the other. Every once in a while he'd stop, look at the phone, gaze out the window onto Benedict Fountain Park far below across Tremont Street, and then continue pacing.

After his tenth lap, he tossed the phone onto the couch and disappeared into his bedroom. Ten minutes later he came striding out in boxer briefs, socks, and a half-buttoned Oxford shirt. He grabbed the phone off the couch and started dialing. He stopped mid-number and hung up. Then he thought about it a little more and dialed, cringing as he heard the ringing on the other end of the phone.

Amrita Singh picked up her cell, glanced at the caller ID and froze.

It's him. It's him! Oh Gods above, it's him. Answer it, what's wrong with you?

Her thumb hit the "Talk" button, and her knees buckled. She flopped ungracefully to the couch in her living room in the heart of San Francisco, smiling in spite of herself. "Jack! Hi, what a wonderful surprise!"

You got that right, he thought to himself.

"I'm sorry it's taken me so long to call," he offered in his easy-going way. "I'm just recently discovering that I have no plans for tonight and it's a perfect time for me to start to explore my new neighborhood. The only thing I'm missing now is some company. Does dinner interest you?"

She stopped herself from screaming out a "YES!" like some crazed fangirl, but it was difficult.

"Wow, yes, of course," she finally managed, regaining her feet to look out over the roofs and over to the treetops of Golden Gate Park. "What time, and casual or dressy?"

Jack fist-pumped in his living room and then replied, casually, "Eight o'clock, and dressy - I've already got the place picked out. Just give me your address and I'll pick you up."

"My... address? Um, oh. Well -- it might just be easier if I met you there," she offered, really scrambling to cover the fact that she didn't have a local address yet. "Less... complicated." Amrita winced and was awfully glad these phones were restricted to voice.

He smiled, knowing what the deal was he hoped she'd offer to come to him and not just come up with an excuse to say no. He played it to the hilt, though.

"Are you sure?" he asked, concerned. "It's really no problem."

Nearly frantic, Amrita looked around her living room, well aware she had no way to conjure a workable Denver area address.

"Oh, um, well... no, really. I'd better just meet you there." And have a hotel room reserved downtown until my house closes!

She leapt over the sofa to the `secretary' table near her foyer. "Okay, I've got paper and pen -- what's the address?"

Jack did his best not to laugh while he listened to her scramble and pictured the scene in his mind. He cleared his throat and answered, "It's the Palace Arms, 321 17th Street, in LoDo. The reservation is in my name for eight." He paused for a moment, then added, "You got all that?"

"Got it," she agreed, left eyebrow lifting at the address -- she'd been in that neighborhood the morning they'd met. Jack Tyler definitely had good taste. "Eight it is. Thank you Jack. It'll be wonderful to see you again."

Oh was that lame... not too lame I hope...!

He nodded his head. "I'm looking forward to it, too," he replied with sincerity. "See you at eight."

Jack hung up and tossed the phone football-style across the room and onto the plush chair-and-a-half in the corner. He spun on his heel and raised his arms as he strutted back into the bedroom, making cheering crowd noises all the way.

Amrita stared at her phone for some time after she'd disconnected while her mind and body integrated what had just happened. He'd called. He'd asked her out. They were going on a date. With a loud whoop that was probably heard up in the Presidio Amrita dove into the vast spider plant complex in her living room, tumble-rolling out of the monstera in her bedroom's bay window and throwing open the doors to her closet in the next heartbeat.

"Oh my God. What am I going to wear?"

* * *

In the end, she thought it was simplest to arrive in one of the small copses of trees in Civic Center Park, then a short walk to Colfax to catch a cab. The sky was still blue though the sun was hidden behind the mountains by that hour. The warm summer air had been dispersed by the evening breezes and Amrita was glad she'd thought to grab a shawl before she left. She pulled the lace and velvet more closely about her shoulders, then stepped out onto the sidewalk casually.

What she hadn't factored in was the effect a tall, beautiful woman in sari was going to have on the tourists, townies, and passers-by still in the park at that hour. Heads turned, jaws dropped. She was attracting attention, but she really couldn't help that -- and in the 16 months or so since her transformation it no longer had the power to unnerve her.

On the plus side, she had no trouble whatsoever in getting a cab to stop for her. It deposited her at the front doors to the Brown Palace at 7:50pm -- the doorman assisted her out, and then held the door for her entrance into the building.

She emerged from the elevator into the tastefully appointed foyer of the Palace Arms at precisely 8pm. It was lovely, and so was the greenery on display -- whomever cared for this place certainly had a green thumb as well as a penchant for polished hardwoods.

The maitre d' escorted her to Jack's table with the air of a man who was dazed and didn't quite know what had hit him -- but then, Amrita was leaving a trail of expressions just like that in her wake. A sari looks deceptively simple -- a woman so garbed looks in some ways as if she'd just wrapped a sheet around herself to get out of bed. It is, however, an intricately tailored garment. When a woman knows how to wear one the paradoxes implied make it one of the sexiest garments imagineable. The fabric hugs the curves, yet drapes suggestively -- one shoulder left bare, the other is covered. The line along the legs seems restrictive, but the artfully constructed pleats dance around her feet as she moves.

Amrita Singh knew how to wear a sari. A fine imported silk, green with blue undertones, trimmed in gold weave, glorious against her skin. Golden bangle bracelets tinkled mutedly on her right wrist, and earrings in gems the color of peacock feathers dangled from her ears. Her bright red hair was up in a chignon held by combs of the same colors as her earrings. Elegant without being pretentious -- with her height, carriage, and beauty, she could not help but make an exotic, glamorous statement.

She'd located him almost as soon as they'd entered, felt as if she could have pointed to where he was if the room had been pitch black. There were some other fairly famous names and faces in the dining room besides Jack Tyler's but she could not have named one as she passed by -- she had eyes for one man only, nor could she hide her smile as they approached.

"Hello Jack," Amrita said softly.

Jack had stood up upon seeing her and was now truly dazzled. He took her hand and gently kissed it while his eyes kissed hers.

"Amrita," he replied while pulling out her seat for her and smiling. "Why don't we sit down before you give one of the older gentlemen a heart attack?"

"Thank you," she murmured, accepting his assistance with ease. They were drawing female stares as well as male ones and Amrita understood why -- Jack Tyler wore a dress jacket with the same authority he'd once worn his football jersey. Tonight it was a black cashmere blazer over a fine Oxford shirt and a tie that bore a subtle star pattern which brough tout the twinkle in his eye. His easy elegance captured her eyes and took them willing prisoners.

"I was surprised to get your call, but very glad," she told him honestly as he took his seat across from her. "I was a little concerned that my forwardness the last time we met had, well..."

She looked away, gazing down at the exquisite table setting for just a moment steady girl, just steady down now before nailing him with another of those exotic glances.

"I'm no longer a shy wallflower, but I hadn't intended to put you off either. I apologize if I did."

"You couldn't put me off with a bazooka," Jack declared lightly while using one practiced finger lifted off the table to summon an alert server.

"I'd like a Belvedere gibson, straight up. The lady will have..." He gestured expectantly to her with a hand.

"Brandy Alexander. St. Remy. Thank you."

"You're definitely not the person you used to be," he said, finding her eyes with his. "But then again, neither am I. We're both a little older, a little wiser... well, I'm a little older, anyway."

He allowed himself a self-depreciating chuckle at his own joke. "I'm sorry," he said afterwards, "if I left you with the wrong impression the other day. As far as I'm concerned, meeting you here in Denver, our two lives intersecting again randomly like this...it's good karma. And if you're not the same person you were, then that just means I get to discover you all over again. And so far I like what I've found."

"I hope so," Amrita told him, feeling that place inside herself opening up in response. "As someone I admire reminded me just a few days ago, I can't really be other than what I am. At least I'm not afraid of that anymore."

"As well you shouldn't be," he approved as he leaned forward to offer her his hand across the table. Her ears started to ring pleasantly as she placed her hand in his.

"You look beautiful tonight," he told her, giving her hand a gentle squeeze and letting his thumb slowly caress the top of her hand. "As beautiful as I remember." His eyes drank in the liquid emerald pools of hers and he let the pause linger, just to savor that sweet feeling which occupied the pit of his stomach whenever he looked there and she smiled that secret smile she wore, the one which had captured him three years ago and hadn't been erased by the changes she'd experienced.

The ringing in her ears turned into the surging of her own heartbeat at his touch, the look in his eyes. It was so odd, to melt like this with a man again... until she'd found Jack, she'd been wondering if it was ever going to be possible . Her fingers curled into the palm of his hand, brushing the skin there once, twice. They both shivered.

"Thank you, she whispered, nearly oblivious to everything else. The moment was broken, however, as their drinks arrived. Jack reluctantly released her hand to lean back and let the server place cocktail napkins down on the table.

"So tell me," he asked as a way of filling the time until they were alone again, "have you had any luck yet finding that new direction for your life?"

"Oh, well, maybe." Amrita cleared her throat and smiled at their server. "I'm enrolling in some extension courses at U of D and checking out foundations in the area. Nothing is really reaching out to grab me yet." She smiled at him again and picked up her glass. "I'd welcome any advice you'd care to give me."

"Well," he hesitated a moment in thoughtful reflection. "I know a thing or two about foundations. The Jack Tyler Foundation is opening up an office here in Denver and we've had contact with most of the main players in town. I'd be happy to help you with that."

He raised his own martini glass and made a toast. "To rekindled fires."

Amrita joined him in the toast, cheeks blushing a bit in spite of herself. "And good karma," she agreed, sipping the creamy drink carefully before placing it aside. It was a potent drink that did nothing to bank those rekindled fires inside her -- not that the look in his eyes would have permitted any such thing.

"Do you want to tell me more about your foundation tonight? I confess I found what was online already, but none of that told me what it means to you." Another smile. "Personally."

Jack shrugged and sipped his drink, then said, "I used to complain about little things. One Monday night, I think we were in Miami - anyway, I run into Boomer Esiason after the game. He's a former quarterback who does color for CBS. He's got his kid with him. So we get to talking and he asks me if I'd be willing to donate a few autographed balls and maybe a jersey for a charity auction. Turns out his kid has cystic fibrosis. Boomer's got a foundation set up to collect money that then gets used to help find a cure. Of course I agreed to donate a few things. I even offered to show up at the auction and help out."

Jack leaned forward, getting to his point. "I found myself thinking about it a lot, and about the kind of person I was. I mean, here's me - I've got everything a man could ask for: success, fortune, fame. And what was I doing? Complaining about small petty things while living the life of Riley. I realized that I really had no problems, at least, no serious problems. There's people out there who have real bad-ass problems that they have to live with and fight against every single day of their lives, like Boomer's kid. Once I started thinking about that, I realized I needed to make some changes."

He wet his whistle and continued. "I already had more money than I'd ever need, and I still had years left on my contract, an extension on the horizon, and plenty of endorsement money. I took about half of everything I had and started the foundation. It seems like a lot of money and I guess it was, but in hindsight that was the easy part. The real question became, what do I do with it? Once I started looking around there were just so many worthwhile causes to pursue. So I chose to pursue them all."

"What the JTF does is it treats charitable gifting like an investment portfolio. The board checks out every aspect of a cause, looks at their management, overhead costs, how much of the money actually gets to the people who need it, stuff like that. If it looks like our money will cultivate some real value, we cut a check. But then we follow it up with regular oversight to make sure our beneficiaries adhere to the standards that we expect."

"And because we take a business-like approach, it's much easier to approach investors and prospective donors. They see that we're careful with our money, so they're more likely to give it to us. It's been a very successful paradigm for us. Oprah and Teresa Heinz actually came to us for advice on how to implement it within their own organizations. I was really proud of that."

Her eyes were glowing at him as he paused in his narrative. Behind those eyes, Amrita was impressed at the man's depth, touched by his tenderness and generosity, and in awe of his practical solution to his dilemma.

"My mother used to say it was more difficult for a wealthy man to do good with his money than a poor one," she finally murmured, reaching out for his hand again. "My father agreed with her, though his reasons were more moral and philosophical than fiscal. She would have adored you."

The words were out of her mouth before she thought about it, but even after thinking about it, Amrita wouldn't have taken them back. She was beginning to feel much the same way.

"I wish I could take all the credit," he demurred. "There are some very smart people working at the foundation, making sure that it gets run the right way. I still oversee everything and make the really big decisions, but I couldn't do it alone. It's just like football, really. The more quality people you have on your team, the better your record will be."

He took another sip. The gibson was excellent and he took a moment to let the tastes of the vodka and the sweet onions mingle on his tongue.

"All teams need good leadership," Amrita said quietly. "Which is where your years in football served you well."

Jack nodded in easy agreement. "I like to think so." He placed his drink down and picked up his menu.

"Enough about my boring routine. Has AEGIS been able to offer you any help, or hope?" Her soft smile turned into a grin, and she shrugged with her bare shoulder.

"It's mostly tests right now. They want baselines for what's going on today, plus all my old medical records and the records from Cal-Pacific during my stay there. That's going to take a little more time. "They're fairly sure the physical changes are irreversible. Once they get the results back from the tests they'll have more information. But," she paused, swirling the creamy liquid in her glass as her grin faded, "I'm not really sure I want to be `cured' if that means I have to go back to the way I was before -- afraid of everything. But stabilized so I don't grow another eight inches? Maybe find a treatment for anyone else who's unfortunate enough to come into contact with it? Definitely. If I can help them prevent another catastrophe like the one that killed so many others that day, I'll do whatever I can."

Jack found himself nodding solemnly. "Yeah, I would, too, If I was in your shoes. If there's anything I can do to help, please let me. I know a few people in the AEGIS heirarchy and it would be no trouble making a phone call or two."

"I'll remember," she promised, turning to the menu with a bit of very private relief. The specifics of her condition weren't topics which could be freely discussed, no matter how attracted she was to him. The thought of keeping secrets, even necessary secrets, from him made her uncomfortable. It was just best to allow the conversation to move on.

Her relief was short-lived, however. The Palace Arms featured a lovely selection of appetizers and entrees and the chef seemed to compose his entrees as if they were culinary symphonies. He had not, however, included anything on tonight's menu for vegetarians.

She shrugged internally -- food wasn't really important to her these days, it was more for social sharing than anything else. No need to make a scene. She could always send a card to the chef about it later.

"If I order the loup de mer, would you eat it?" She asked, looking up at Jack with a smile. "The rest of that dinner sounds delightful."

Jack's eyes narrowed and then stark realization of his error dawned on his face.

"Ohhh, I didn't even think about the menu! Oh, Amrita, I am truly sorry."

Her smiling response could have lit up that end of the room. "Don't be, Jack. Please. It's really not an issue."

He quickly looked over the menu for something appropriate but he knew that she'd have already ferreted out the cans from the can nots.

Finally he looked back at her and said resignedly, "I'll eat whatever you like, to go along with my embarrassment."

She opened her mouth to reassure him again, but the waiter arrived, forestalling her. Jack ordered for both of them, choosing the scallops for himself. Once that was done he looked across the table at his date and shook his head with a wry smile.

"I guess I was just so excited to see you again that I left the menu out of my considerations. Can you imagine that?"

"I can," she agreed. "I felt much the same. I'm sure the cuisine is lovely, but it's not why I'm here." No flickering smile this time -- Amrita's full-lipped mouth curled in open delight. "I don't think my heart has stopped pounding since I took your call."

Now it was Jack's turn to smile. "I forgot how much I liked your smile," he said. Inside he lamented the necessary secret he carried and which he couldn't share with her. It didn't matter to him that she held the same secret for herself. The unfairness of it all ate at him, and he hid it behind another sip of his drink. Their server reappeared at the table with a smile and another round of drinks.

"Did we...?" Amrita started to ask. The server shook his head with a smile, handed a folded note to Jack, then placed the martini glasses on the table. The note said:

You're in for a blitz. Coach's advice for this play -- let her sack you, pal. Best -- Mike Shanahan

The server gestured with his head toward where Coach Shanahan was sitting, with his wife and another couple Jack didn't know. Shanahan raised his glass slightly. Amrita's large green eyes were twinkling with suppressed mirth when he looked up.

"Well?"

Jack looked over to where Coach and his party were sitting, and he smiled and waved. He picked up his glass and saluted them while mouthing, "Thank you."

Turning back to Amrita, he answered, "That's Mike Shanahan, head coach for the Broncos, the local club. He and I go way back."

With an understanding nod, Amrita glanced over at the coach's table and nodded her thanks politely. It also allowed her to notice for the first time the kind of dinner crowd gathered at the Palace Arms that night -- she didn't follow the tabloids or much modern media but even so, she saw faces she recognized and could put names to most of them.

"Interesting crowd," she murmured, sipping her drink. Once her eyes returned to Jack, she found she had no interest in looking elsewhere. "I think that's Monica Bellini over there, two tables to the right of your coach friend."

"Yes, I saw her," he answered with a muted groan. "Don't attract attention, though. She and I go way back, too."

She laughed at him. "Why am I not surprised? She's lovely, Jack. Rich too, or so I hear. Is her temper really that bad?"

"No," he answered quickly, "that's a bad rap. She's as easy and cuddly as a teddy bear. Great lay, too," he added in thoughtful hindsight, raising his glass to his lips. "Best I've ever had."

Smiling ruefully, Amrita cleared her throat and abruptly reached for her water glass. Color rode high on her cheeks, but didn't dim the sparkle in her eyes. The water gave her an excuse to recover a bit of dignity, and to cast about for a change of subject.

"Ah, well then," she finally said. "Serves me right for being even indirectly nosy. How is your family these days? Still in Illinois?"

Jack's eyes peered over his martini glass at Amrita and glistened with mirth at her reaction. He had to put his glass down and cover his mouth to suppress a laugh.

"Oh, Amrita. You are priceless," he commended her. "I'm completely joking of course."

She didn't bother to suppress hers, it was too close to the surface anyway. It was like her laughter in the elevator the other day -- the sound of it filled the air around them without being obnoxious or intrusive.

"Score one for your side," Amrita managed around her mirth. "You got me completely."

"Seriously," he revealed, "she was rubbish," but a pause followed by a light snort gave away the fact that this was just a continuation of his joke.

It worked -- she laughed again, leaning back in her chair to shake her head at him fondly.

Jack found himself staring across the table at his captivating date once again. She really had changed, in so many ways, he considered. He felt something that was setting off all kinds of red flags in his mind, and it was accompanied by a sense that he should know better, that this was some sort of ethical breach. The rational voice inside his head reminded him about the rule that you don't shit where you eat. But he wouldn't have to keep his secret forever, and she'd forgive him... right?

Without realizing it, he'd let his laughter fade into a semi-somber smile. He was still staring, but there was a guardedness about it that he quickly put away behind a mask fashioned of the real happiness he felt at being in this amazing woman's orbit once again.

She'd been watching his face, obviously had not missed that something was troubling him. But, with manners impeccable to the end, she would leave it to him to decide whether to share them. That secret smile was in the corners of her mouth again, flickering hints and promises while artfully concealing so much, rather like the sari she wore.

"I may never be completely easy with that kind of thing," Amrita said softly, simply opting to pick up the conversation where it had dropped. "But at least I can laugh at myself for it now."

Dinner wasn't long in arriving, and it was as exquisitely presented as everything else in the establishment. The chef certainly knew his stuff. Both dishes were savory, including the loup de mer, which Jack ate, as promised.

The conversation lightened up and Jack felt himself more at ease than at any time since his arrival in Denver months ago. Like a rookie given the starting role, he realized he'd been holding back and uptight, constantly feeling like he was auditioning for the job. Most starters don't get over that until their second season, but sitting here being relaxed and (mostly) open with someone he cared about had served to lift the veil and give him a much needed attitude adjustment.

Cared about? Yes, he also realized, he did care about this woman, very much. He wasn't sure what that meant in the grand scheme of things with the Guardians, but he resolved to let it trouble him no longer. For tonight, he'd just enjoy it and see where it led.

When the plates were cleared and the waiter appeared to ask about coffee, Jack reached over to gently but firmly seize Amrita's hand. His piercing eyes carried the full weight of his confidence and presence as they searched hers for that hint of mutual affection. He found it. Whatever her other reservations, she seemed to have none at all in sharing how she felt about him

"You want to get out of here?" he asked.

"Let's," Amrita agreed. "I don't know Denver very well yet, though. Where shall we go?"

"I really don't care," he replied honestly, though he was tempted to answer 'my place', which was only a few blocks away. "Let's find a cab and let inspiration strike."

Ten minutes later they were stepping into the cab in front of the Brown Palace, summoned by the maitre d' for them before they left. It had been an odd ten minutes for Amrita, who for the first time in her life had been really wrestling with the need to keep her new abilities secret from him. She wanted to take him to a cliff high over the ocean on the California coast, just step out of the coastal sequoias to watch the moonlight over the restless waves. Or the desert near Joshua Tree State Park, to hear the coyotes singing. Or the gardens of the Taj Mahal. Or the jungle near Macchu Picchu.... Or even her own tree, the one she'd been bonded to...?

Oh no. No. Stop being so selfish. You can't endanger him like that. Keep it to yourself, for his sake more than yours. Amrita eased into the cab when Jack opened the door, pulling her sari with her to keep it out of his way.

"I still don't know what to suggest," she smiled. "Shall we ask our driver?"

"No," Jack said, his smile suddenly brimming with inspiration. "Wait here."

He left the cab and trotted back inside, only to return five minutes later. When he entered the cab he held her questioning off by taking her hand in his and then he leaned forward to chat quietly with the driver.

"Yes, sir, Mr. Tyler," the driver replied to whatever plot Jack had cooked up. He smiled at the novelty of driving around an NFL quarterback and pulled into traffic.

"You'll see," Jack told Amrita, squeezing her hand in playful anticipation.

Not long after, the cab was heading west on a busy West Colfax Avenue. After travelling under the Rt. 25 cloverleaf overpasses, Invesco Field loomed off to their right. The cabbie turned into the complex and drove towards the player's entrance where it slowed to a stop. Jack handed the driver a fifty.

"Stick around, if you don't mind."

"No problem," the driver answered, but Jack was already climbing out to trot around the cab and open Amrita's door for her. Clearly mystified (but just as obviously willing to go along with him), Amrita accepted his assistance out of the cab, eyes all over this end of the building.

"All right," she laughed softly, taking his arm again. "Why are we here?"

"You'll see," he answered, taking her arm in his and leading her to the entrance doors where a man in a facility jacket was waiting for them.

"Good evening, Mr. Tyler," the man said to Jack. He was nearly elderly, probably sixty, with short grey hair and mustache that stood in contrast to his brown skin. He opened the door to let them into the foyer. Both the left and right hand walls were adorned with awards and pictures of past Denver Bronco teams.

"Coach Shanahan called ahead and told me to get you anything you needed. Will you be going down on the field?"

"Yes, please," Jack replied. "And then..." Jack leaned in to whisper into the man's ear.

The man nodded a couple of times when Jack talked, and then said, "How about..." before whispering back into Jack's ear.

Jack nodded, too, and then he smiled and said, "That's great. Down this way?" Jack pointed towards a hallway leading deeper into the facility in the rear of the player entrance foyer.

"Yessir. I'll go take care of that thing."

"Thanks...?" Jack offered his hand.

"Ronnie," he replied with a smile, shaking Jack's hand.

"Call me Jack," Jack told him. He patted Amrita's arm and asked, "Shall we?"

"Am I going to say `no' at this point?" she said, but she couldn't help smiling anyway. "Okay Jack. You lead, I'll follow."

Lead her he did, down the dimly-lit painted concrete hall to where it became a ramp leading downward. They followed it for some time until it bent sharply right to end in a set of double-doors. Jack pushed them open and led Amrita into the wide entranceway that opened up into the corner of the southeast end zone.

Someone's first exposure to the vastness and grandeur of the modern sports stadium is always a breathtaking experience. But seeing it from down on the field is a perspectve that very few individuals ever share. Here in Mile High, where the swooping cut bowl architecture revealed the Rocky Mountains beyond the far end zone, it was an absolutely spectacular visual feast.

Every third light tower was lit, as was usual on nights when the stadium wasn't in use. It provided a surprising amount of brightness, much better than your average street corner-streetlight situation. Like he owned the place, Jack strolled with his date out onto the best manicured grass she'd likely ever seen - or so he thought.

Something of the energy of the place remained in it even when empty, held by the grass, the seats, the very architecture itself. Amrita had never been to a game here (though she'd attended 49er's games with her late husband every chance they got) but the feel of it was similar. The ghosts of hundreds of thousands of screaming fans left their mark, as had the teams of winners and losers who'd faced off on this very turf.

She clutched his arm tightly as they walked; the grass was nearly tugging at her feet in its eagerness to be recognized. Pulling she and Jack down into it was not the most advisable course, under the circumstances.

"I can almost hear the echo of the fans, cheering," Amrita said softly. "Odd, that it should ever be quiet here."

"And this is one of the loudest stadiums in the league," he replied with equal softness. "I love these stadiums when they're empty. Just knowing what goes on here, it's like...I feel reverent. I can't explain it, but I imagine it's similar to what a priest feels when he's all alone in the church. It's always been a part of my life I've considered special."

She nodded in agreement. It was a rather devotional aura that filled this place, suited for silences. He kept them walking towards the logo in the field's center, but not quickly. He savored it, drinking the shared solitude in, true to his word. As they neared the 50, there was the sound of the PA system turning on all around them.

"All set, Mr. Taylor." Ronnie's voice came out of all the lower level sound system amps.

Jack gave a thumbs up in the direction of the north side luxury boxes. The music that followed incorporated some strings and a tinkling piano. It took only a moment for them to recognize the opening to Chances Are, by Johnny Mathis. Jack took Amrita's arm and turned her to face him.

"May I have this dance?" he asked with Midwestern charm.

It was the first time he'd ever seen Amrita Singh completely taken aback, wide eyes and parted lips making her look, for that moment, about half her age. Her right hand found his by instinct, her left looping the trailing fabric of her sari over her arm before it settled lightly on his right shoulder. Her mouth didn't need to say "yes" -- it radiated from her eyes, from every pore of her skin. Some deep intuition advised her to get used to it. She'd likely be saying "yes" to this man for a long time to come.

He did what he'd been wanting to do ever since he first saw her in that sari at the restaurant and gently pulled her close to him. He led her easily, being a practiced dancer, and found that she was as graceful and elegant a partner as he'd expected. Their bodies were nearly touching now, and he let his right hand slide softly across the back of her arm and down over her shoulderblade to rest in the small of her back. There it found a home, and his thumb feather-traced a line to and fro on her back while he held her close.

Chances are 'cause I wear a silly grin
The moment you come into view
Chances are you think that I'm in love with you...

His eyes never left hers. This was where he wanted to be, losing himself in those eyes. He couldn't do it politely in the restaurant, so he took them to the most comfortable place he could think of outside of his own apartment, where they could be alone, and where he could just be there in her green pools of radiance. Judging by the way she looked back into his own eyes, he didn't think she minded.

Just because my composure sort of slips
The moment that your lips meet mine
Chances are you think my heart's your Valentine...

In fact, there was nowhere else she wanted to be. It couldn't have been a dream -- she'd never have thought to place them on the fifty-yard line of Invesco Field at Mile High Stadium. It was him, and his arms around her were real, and Amrita wanted it to last all night.

In the magic of moonlight
When I sigh, "Hold me close, dear"
Chances are you believe the stars that fill the skies are in my eyes...

His eyes... so very deep and hazel now. Where hers were silvered like oak leaves, his were shining golden like dappled sunlight in a forest. Those were eyes she could wander in for years to come and never find her way out again... or ever want to. Amrita had been in love once before, and she knew what this was, this sensation of the ground shifting beneath her feet, the sense of helpless vertigo, the yearning to fall. She paused on the edge of that precipice, on the very brink of it, teetering dizzily, knowing his least breath would be enough to push her over it for good.

Guess you feel you'll always be the one and only one for me
And if you think you could
Well, chances are your chances are awfully good...

When the music stopped, Jack continued to hold her closely to him. He let his leading arm fall and that hand joined the other in the small of her back. They worked their way around to her hips and then slid slowly up her sides to her upper body and then back down. He was struck by the need to take a very deep breath.

"Phew!" he exhaled, with a moment of eyebrow-raised comic emphasis. "Ms. Singh, I haven't danced like that in a long, long time."

She nodded, still more than a little breathless herself. She didn't say `the last time, I married him' -- it was the romantic equivalent of that bazooka he'd mentioned earlier and not something she particularly wanted to test, just then. Instead, her hands smoothed their way from his broad shoulders to the back of his neck, fingers stroking there softly. It brought their bodies into contact and she fought back the yearning that wanted to stand in for conscious thought.

His right hand rose to delicately brush a strand of hair out of her face, the back of his finger caressing a line down her cheek, mimicked by his thumb along her jaw line. Inside Jack Tyler was turmoil, bubbling over. He'd sacrificed a lot, willingly, to be Paladin. He'd played the role Morgan wanted him to play to the hilt, and he loved it. He had discovered that he loved it as much as he loved football, totally and without reservations. Until now, there had been no conflicts, no iregularities, that interfered with his pursuit of this new life. Until now.

Her lips, parted and sweet, beckoned. But they weren't being totally honest with each other. Could he handle it, feeling this way with someone with whom he'd have to face motal danger? Was it taking advantage of her by not telling her? What if she told him about Wild Lotus? What would the team think? He already knew what Morgan would think. Both hands were cradling her face now, his thumbs softly stroking her cheeks. They had somehow moved closer in the last few minutes. This was his moment of truth.

"Amrita... I... you need to--" The cymbal crash that opened the soulful groove of Marvin Gaye's Let's Get It On broke through his attempt at speech. It was all he could do to hang his head and chuckle at the timing.

When he looked back up, her eyes were closed. The return of the music had startled her badly enough that the grass in a ten yard radius around them had flattened in response. She was trying to coax it to stand back up before he noticed, amid disappointment and rushing adrenalin. Amrita looked at him again as the last of that inner turbulence faded, resting her palm against his cheek, brushing her thumb over his lips tenderly.

Marvin Gaye's voice filled the stadium, making intimate talk difficult at best. That moment was past, but there was this one and it was as full of promise in its own way as the previous had been. There was a kind of certainty in her heart that didn't need words where he was concerned. Grounded in that, she leaned forward slowly to brush his lips with hers.

Jack hesitated a moment as his qualms dissolved in a rush of attraction that short-curcuited rational thought. Then he was kissing her, doubt surrendering to bliss, released from the self-imposed shackles of his conscience. His hands worked in her luxorious silken hair, tingling her scalp. Behind his closed eyes the stars were out and sparkling.

Amrita... was kissing him. Reality opened out into timelessness, there was nothing else to do, nowhere else to be than right there, in his arms, kissing him. Thought dissolved -- there was nothing to think about. Just... holding him, kissing him, letting her awareness of him sprout inside her and take root, giving life to emotional ground that had been barren for too long.

The music faded into the still air around them. She became aware of that somewhat reluctantly, and remembered (also reluctantly) that he'd wanted to tell her something, before... Some truths were too big for words. Others weren't.

"Jack..." Oh yes, that was her voice, whispering the words into his mouth. "Whatever it is you want to tell me... it's all right. And if you can't tell me, that's all right too."

She pulled back from him a bit, to gaze into his eyes again. "There's time for the rest of this. For now... just know I'm not going away. Not unless you tell me to, and make me believe it."

The generosity of her spirit gave him pause, but not hesitation. In a confidence stemming from a lack doubt, born of decisions made, Jack smiled and replied firmly, "Not with a bazooka." Then he carefully gathered up a handful of hair in his left hand and used it to guide her into another kiss.

The committment to pursuing her showed in the commanding way he drew her in. His right hand slid down her neck and returned to the small of her back, hinting perhaps just a bit lower this time, and he nearly lifted her while hugging her body to his.

There may have been better ways to start a love affair, but right offhand, Amrita couldn't think of one....