Dylan turned her head as she felt Cat shift next to her. The young woman?s head was bruised around the cut, which had taken several sutures to close, and she looked tired and miserable. “Hey,” the coach said softly.

“Hey,” Cat replied, shifting again. “Remind me never to get sick again, will you? It feels like a mule kicked me where they gave me those damn shots.”

“Did they make you feel any better?” Dylan asked, giving into her impulse to brush a stray lock of hair away from Cat?s sweaty cheek.

Sighing softly, Cat leaned into the gentle touch, her eyelids fluttering closed. “Yeah. The steroids have got me a little buzzed, though.”

“We?ll be at the hotel in about an hour. Maybe the effect will have petered off by then.”

Cat yawned and stretched. “God, I hope so. If I don?t get some sleep soon, I think I?m going to explode.” Opening her eyes, Cat swung her head, eyes alighting on Dylan?s heavily braced leg which was propped awkwardly in the aisle. “How ?bout you?”

“Leg?s pretty numb,” Dylan replied. Which was, she admitted privately, a damn sight better than the jagged, broken glass pains she?d been experiencing before. “But otherwise?not bad.”

“Considering,” Cat said with a wan smile.

“True,” Dylan pondered, stroking her bottom lip. “We could be Horace Johnson.”

Cat?s lips thinned in a grimace of distaste. “No, thanks.”

Johnson was currently taking up space in a CCU in Denver, waiting to get strong enough to actually survive the surgery they had planned for him. Cat wondered how many Hail Marys she?d be expected to say if she confessed to the sin of?just for a split second, mind you?wishing the surgeon?s knife would slip just a fraction of an inch one way or the other.

Too many, she decided, and dropped the thought in favor of one involving a nice, soft bed, nice warm covers, and sleep.

Lots of it.

Mac stood outside the gate looking like a puppy that had just gotten caught piddling on the carpet. An egg-suck grin was on his face as he shrugged his broad shoulders, empty hands raised to the air in a gesture of futility.

The reason for the expression was soon obvious as the small group came down the jetway.

Even airport security couldn?t keep back the crowds of people?mostly reporters?who pushed, jostled, shouted and snapped picture after picture, almost blinding the deplaning passengers. Dylan, saddled with her brace and a pair of already detested crutches, shot Mac a glowering look before hobbling into the terminal proper.

“Ms. Lambert, could you—?”

“Ms. Lambert, how was—?”

“Ms. Lambert, what did—?”

Fetching a deep sigh, Dylan hobbled over to the nearest microphone and yanked it from the hands of a startled reporter. “The plane crashed, we survived, and now we?re here. Have a good day, everyone.”

The security guards strained to keep back the crush of reporters, then split in the middle, forming two parallel lines; a gauntlet of sorts that the members of the Badgers walked through and which ended at an electric people mover cart captained by a smiling skycap.

Cat sat down on the padded bench with a grateful sigh, then blinked several times to clear the white flashes from her eyes. “Jesus.”

“Sorry about that,” Mac said, voice contrite. “They were here when I got here.”

“It?s alright,” Dylan said, rolling her neck and shoulders to get the kinks out, which was pretty much an exercise in futility. Grunting softly, she gave up and simply concentrated on not falling out of the cart as the skycap hotdogged it down the mostly quiet corridors of the terminal.

She turned her head as she felt a warm hand settle on her shoulder. Mac smiled slightly, tears brimming in his eyes. “Thank god you?re okay,” he whispered. “Just?thank God.”

Dylan returned the smile and lifted her hand to cover his larger one, squeezing gently.

The rest of the ride was silent.

They left through a private exit and were immediately escorted into a waiting SUV limo, and from there to a large, well-appointed hotel a little less than an hour away.

The crowd that greeted them in the hotel wasn?t the press, but rather the coaches and players of the Badgers, cheering when their fallen heroes walked safely through the doors.

After touching Dylan almost reverently, as if she were the very goddess her name inspired, the players crowded around Cat, hugging her tightly and teasing her mercilessly?their way of whistling past the graveyard.

Caulley looked apologetically at Dylan after giving her a quick hug. “Sorry,” she whispered. “I couldn?t get them to bed down.”

“Been up all night?”

Caulley yawned. “Pretty much, yeah. When your flight was late, Mac started calling around. We didn?t get confirmation of the crash, and your rescue, until a couple of hours ago. By then, they were all too wired.”

“We could talk to the league about postponing the game,” Mac suggested, sidling up behind the small group.

Dylan gave the idea serious, if brief, consideration. Then she shook her head. “Nah. They?ve got too much energy that they need to burn off.”

“I could give them the practice from hell,” Caulley retorted, eyes glinting with an almost sadistic light.

Dylan smirked. “I?m sure you could, but?.” She paused as Cat turned to her, expression almost pleading. “?I think we?ll just go ahead. See if you can coax ?em into a couple hours? shut eye at least, then we?ll set up for a light practice before the game. See what happens.”

Caulley nodded. “I can do that.” She lifted her head. “Alright, ladies, the party?s over. Everyone back to their rooms. Now,” she ordered to forestall the expected protests. Shoulders slumped, the players filed back onto the elevators, leaving Mac, Dylan, Kelly Norton, and Cat behind.

Mac looked at the small group. “I?uh?put you and Cat in the room adjoining Dylan?s, Kelly. I figured you guys would want to?talk?or whatever.”

Norton grinned. “Better hope I never tell your wife what a sweetie you are, Mac. You?ll never hear the end of it.”

The others chuckled as Mac blushed hotly, fingering his collar and clearing his throat. “I, um?I?.didn?t?..”

Laughing, the physician clapped the huge man on his massive back. “Just teasing, my friend. Seriously, though, thanks. The closer space will let me check over my patients? injuries. So, good job and all that kinda stuff.”

“Thanks.” The blush still hadn?t receded. “So?I?ll see you guys later, then?”

“Count on it.”

The room was cool, dim, and comfortable. Cat groaned as she dropped her duffle on the side of one of the double beds and pulled down the spread. The soft whiteness beneath seemed to be calling her name, and she moved toward it willingly, until another voice, this one much sharper, broke into the fantasy.

“C?mon, shortchange. I need to check your sutures.”

Groaning, Cat stamped her foot like a petulant child, and turned to the figure leaning against the doorjam that separated the two adjoining rooms. “Can?t you do it here?”

Norton grinned. “Nope. Light?s better in here. And besides, Dylan?s here and I?d rather just kill two birds with one stone, if you don?t mind. Some of us didn?t get a chance to nap on the way over.”

“Oh, alright.” Sighing, Cat followed the doctor into Dylan?s well lit room and sat down on the massive king-sized bed, careful not to jostle Dylan, who was already laying down, injured leg unbraced and propped up on several pillows.

“Ouch,” Cat hissed, eyeing the lurid bruise that covered Dylan?s leg from mid thigh almost to her ankle. “Damn, that?s ugly.”

“Doesn?t feel all that pretty either,” Dylan bit off, shifting her weight in the bed as waves of angry pain rolled through the joint as if a hornet?s nest had taken up residence inside her knee. Her thigh and calf were cramping to beat the band, adding to the agony.

“Anything I can do?”

“Yeah,” Norton replied, frustrated at her limited ability. “How are you at digging out Charley Horses? She?s cramping up bad but she can?t put weight on that leg.”

“I?ve done a few in my time,” Cat allowed.

“Alright, but make sure you don?t flex her foot and stretch the Achilles.”

“Damn, well, that?ll make it a little harder, but?.” She looked up at Dylan and received a short nod in return. “Okay. Tell me if I?m hurting you.”

“Believe me, it won?t hurt any worse than it does now,” Dylan grunted, both hands grabbing fistfuls of blanket and squeezing tight. “Just do it.”

Stiffening her fingers, Cat dug into the cramp, grunting with the effort. She hadn?t been lying when she said that she had some experience with calf cramps, but she?d never had to try and soften one in a leg as muscled as Dylan?s. It was like trying to dig into solid rock. “I?m sorry,” she murmured when Dylan flinched.

“?sokay. Just keep at it,” the coach replied through gritted teeth.

The next several minutes were spent in tense silence as Cat?s strong fingers worked deep into the muscle, probing and massaging until the cramp finally, mercifully, began to loosen. She gentled her touches then, squeezing and releasing Dylan?s leg to make sure huge knot didn?t return. Feeling the tension slowly subside, she looked up to find Dylan slumped bonelessly against the headboard, eyes closed.

“God, that feels good.”

Cat grinned happily. “Yeah? I?m glad.”

The young woman?s fingers continued to move of their own accord, gliding over warm, silken skin in a languid caress. A movement off to her left caused her to shift her gaze from Dylan?s peaceful face to Norton, who bore a decided smirk.

It was then that Cat realized what she was doing and, flushing from her neck to her hairline, she drew her hand back as if her fingers were on fire.