"Sorry." She shrugged. "Work's hard but I hang onto my Sundays. My family thinks I have an uncontrollable addiction to the game."

"I'll bet you have brothers who are pigskin hounds," he guessed.

"No. Just a dad I idolized who taught me everything there was to know about it."

"In that case, I'll drink a toast to him." He lifted his glass, tilted it slightly and took a deep swallow. "So how come you only get Sundays to yourself?"

Sarah sipped her wine again, ...