None of these characters belong to me; they remain the property of Shoot the Moon Enterprises and Warner Bros.

Endless thanks to my betas for their corrections, suggestions and encouragement. All mistakes are my own.

This story should probably be subtitled "Everything I ever knew about football was learned from Wikipedia in ten minutes researching for this story and was then promptly forgotten." Fortunately, I managed to pretty much avoid football altogether in this one.

** smk **

Lee had forgotten what a breath-annihilating thing it was to let yourself be frozen like a Birdseye fish dinner.

It had been almost fifteen years since he'd last had to climb into a post-practice ice bath, but of course, he couldn't let the other players see that. His cover was to be one of the guys, just like them, recruited up from another league as a slight has-been, no competition for anyone – just a regular guy who had a slim hope of making it back into the big leagues.

With that in mind, he'd stepped into the bath like he was an old pro at it, lowering himself as quickly as possible, and feeling reasonably proud that he'd managed not to react. Or at least he thought he hadn't until the guy beside him – a giant named Bobby – burst out laughing at his expression.

"Never gets any easier, does it, Newcombe?"

Lee gave a forced laugh. Unlike him Bobby looked very comfortable - probably because he had the luxury of being in the far more welcoming hot water tub. "No, it sure doesn't," he agreed. "Guess I'd worry some if I ever got used to it."

Bobby reached over to grab a pack of cigarettes and light one up. "Reminds me of a joke I heard… this little kid keeps hitting himself in the head with a hammer and when his teacher asks why he says 'Well ma'am, it sure feels good when it stops!'." He carefully blew a lung full of smoke toward Lee, grinning when Lee had to blink and cough. "Where was it you said you played before this?"

"Up North. Canadian Football League," Lee replied.

"Argos? Ticats?"

Lee groaned inwardly. Figures he'd end up chatting to the one guy who knew anything about the CFL. "No, uh, Roughriders."

"Ottawa?"

"No, the other ones – Saskatchewan." Fortunately, Lee had spent enough time living on an airbase just south of there that the name rolled off his tongue easily.

Bobby gave a knowing chuckle. "Oh right – from Re-gi-na". He gave Lee a look. "Can't believe they actually pronounce it that way."

"Well you know the city motto," Lee tried to match the locker room tone. "Regina: rhymes with fun."

Bobby gave a hoot of laughter and reached over to punch Lee in the arm. "Good one, Rookie."

Only a quiet hiccupping sound gave Lee any warning before what little warm blood left in his body froze on the spot as a quiet voice in front of them, a voice he knew all too well, said "I don't think my editor or my son's second grade teacher would agree that those words rhyme."

Lee sank deeper into the bath, hoping the ice cold would counteract the fact that he was pretty sure he was blushing all over his body, but Bobby had no such scruples.

"Well, hello there, Little Lady! What's a pretty thang like you doing back here? Did Coach send us a little thank-you for all our hard work today?"

"No – I'm –hic- here to interview Mr. – hic - Newcombe for a piece in the Washington Blaze." Amanda's case of the hiccups could not have been better timed to make her sound nervous. Or maybe she was – Lee was still too embarrassed to look up at her and see.

Bobby's eyes lit up. "Well, since we're both here, you can get a two-for-one. Can't you?" He patted the side of the tub. "Now, how about you come a little closer and we can give you an in-depth interview?" He reached over and grabbed a handful of ice out of Lee's tub. "My momma always said there was nothing like an ice cube down the shirt to cure hiccups."

He could almost hear Amanda's internal dialogue as she tried to decide whether to go for the putdown or maintain her cover – although why she was here and why she had a cover was still a mystery – when she finally answered. "No, thank you, Mr. uhh…"

"Just call me Bobby," he leered. "Or 4-B, like the other girls do – stand for Big Bad Bobby. If you get to know me better, I'll tell you what the other B stands for."

Amanda's dignified response continued to be hampered by those hiccups. "No- hic – thank you – hic – I'm just – hic - here to speak to Mr. Newcombe."

"Well then, I'll just get out of your way." Bobby stood up without warning and reached past Amanda for a towel as she closed her eyes and pulled her sweater closer around her body. "Aw, I don't mind if you look. Might see something you like."

Lee braced himself to stand up to defend her dignity, even at the expense of his own, but before he could, Amanda's eyes opened and flicked down Bobby's body and back up to meet his eyes without any expression. "Well, I can certainly see that must have been an extremely cold bath."

Bobby's brows knit together in confusion. "I wasn't in the cold bath."

"Oh. My mistake," replied Amanda, gently, not letting her eyes leave his face.

Lee struggled to contain his snort of laughter, but Bobby swung around to glare at him anyway before stepping out of the bath and stalking away toward the showers.

"I am so sorry about that," Lee rushed to apologize in the silence that followed. "I – uh – well, I'm trying to fit in around here and you know what men are like in locker rooms... I mean, you don't obviously – but I couldn't really step in and interfere without... I would have though, you know that, don't you?" There was still no answer from a very red-faced Amanda as she stared into space above his head and he went on, "You're not mad, are you?"

"Don't be silly," said Amanda, suddenly letting out a long whoosh of air and plunking herself down on a bench, and pulling out a notebook. "I was just trying to hold my breath and see if that would help with these." The hiccup that followed said it hadn't. "I have – hic - two boys, an ex-husband and a history of college cheerleading – hic - during the 1970s when we couldn't get through a game without a streaker or two. Believe me, 4-B there wouldn't even rate in the Top 10. Hic"

"So if you're not nervous, how come you have the hiccups?" Lee asked.

"Oh, it's a reaction I have to some aftershaves," she explained. "Cheap ones, usually – somebody out there is probably using some drugstore copy of Hai Karate."

"I guess I should be thankful you're not allergic to Stetson," Lee quipped, provoking a gurgle of laughter out of her.

"No, definitely not," she agreed. "Okay, so Mr. Melrose said I had to come find you and get any information you had about that player from Liberia…No that's not right… Luxembourg?" She began flipping through her notes. "Although I'm sure I don't why you can't just pick up and phone him but you guys always seem to have your reasons, and he seemed to think that my little bit of work on the college paper would make it easy for me to pretend like I belong here, and I suppose that's true. I mean, can you imagine if he'd sent Francine into a locker room like this? She'd probably have done something unfortunate to Bobby-"

"Amanda?" Lee interrupted her. "I'm glad you're here and I'll be happy to give you all the information Billy wants and get you out of here as fast as I can, but, I, uh, do have to get out of this bath before I freeze to death, so if you could, um…" he made a twirling motion with his finger.

Amanda's eyes went wide and her gaze dropped automatically to his bare chest before coming straight back up to look him in the eye. To Lee's amusement, the same Amanda who had just cut Bobby down to size without even a flicker of embarrassment, was now flushed scarlet and staring at him like a deer in headlights.

"Oh! Right!" Amanda immediately swung around on the bench to face the other way. "So, uh, Bela. Spivak. Luxembourg…"

"Pravik. From Liechtenstein," Lee corrected her.

"Right, Liechtenstein."

She could hear Lee levering himself out of the water and closed her eyes, determined that she wasn't going to picture that…

"Oh, and Amanda?"

"Yes?" She resisted the temptation to turn around in response.

"Surprise!"

A second later, a chunk of ice slid down her back, sending her to her feet with a screech. She whirled to yell and found herself facing a dripping wet Lee, towel slung around his waist, and an expression of pure mischief on his face.

"Bet Bobby was right about that curing your hiccups," he grinned.

"Ooooh, yooooouuu!" Amanda was still twisting, scrambling to pull at her shirttail so that she could get the ice out.

"Hang on, hold still," Lee chuckled, taking pity on her at last and flicking it out from where it had gotten stuck in her waistband.

"I'll get you back for that," laughed Amanda, straightening her clothes.

"I'm sure you will," he agreed. "Now how about waiting for me out there while I get dressed?"

"Oh right, sure," she replied, ducking her head and blushing. "I'll, uh, get out of your way."

Lee emerged a few minutes later to find Amanda deep in conversation with Bela – who was gazing up at her worshipfully as if he'd never talked to a woman before. It was possible he hadn't, Lee reflected. The language barrier and the training camp rules very likely did mean he hadn't spoken to a woman since he'd arrived in America. Unlike her body language with Bobby, Amanda was already relaxed and smiling with the smaller player – like Lee, she had obviously immediately recognized him as someone who wouldn't hurt a fly.

Bela caught sight of him and waved him over excitedly, exclaiming in his lightly accented English, "San-day – this is Ah-man-da Keene. She is from newspaper!"

"Yes, we just met," replied Lee genially.

"She is very pretty, no?" said Bela.

"Very pretty, yes," agreed Lee, as Amanda ducked her head and blushed again.

"Do you like the bowling?" asked Bela, hopefully.

"Bowling?" repeated Amanda.

"Yes, yes – the bowling with the ball and the knocking down," said Bela, making the motions of throwing a bowling ball. "Maybe I could take you on real American date? With the bowling and the pizza?"

"Oh, I don't know…" Amanda looked at Lee helplessly.

"Oh, I see," said Bela, catching the glance. "I am too short. At home, in Liechtenstein, I am not so short but here in America, everyone is giants."

"Oh no, no," said Amanda. "It's not that – it's just I'm, uh…"

"A career woman," said Lee, helpfully. "No time to play, right, Ms. Keene? Especially when you're writing stories about us – that would be a conflict of interest, wouldn't it?" Amanda nodded, grateful for his interruption. "And besides, Bela, you can't go asking women out when you know we can't break training. You wouldn't even have time for one frame before you had to be back for curfew."

"Oh. That is true," agreed Bela with a downcast look. He squared his shoulders and looked at Amanda again. "But maybe you could come to our game on Sunday? I can get you tickets – very good tickets, I promise?"

"Well, uh, my boys would enjoy seeing a game..." said Amanda.

"Your boys? You have boyfriends?" asked Bela.

"No, oh no," stammered Amanda. "No boyfriends – I have sons, Phillip and Jamie – they're eight and ten – they love sports. All sports. Especially football."

"Sons? So you have husband?" asked Bela, looking more and more downcast.

"No, no husband. Not anymore," Amanda threw another wild glance for help at Lee. "No boyfriends, no husbands, just boys. Small boys." She waved her hand at waist height as if she could conjure up Phillip and Jamie on the spot. "And my mother – she lives with me."

"You keep your mother in your home? This is very good," said Bela with a broad smile. "You must be very good daughter to keep your mother at home. Is she very…verkalkt? Hmm, I do not know the English word."

Lee barely managed to turn his laughter into a coughing fit. Amanda turned to look at him suspiciously as he attempted to retrieve an innocent expression, but there was no way on earth he was going to tell her Bela had just inquired into her mother's state of senility. Before she could press for an explanation, Bela caught sight of something over Amanda's shoulder and paled.

"I must go," he said, turning abruptly and darting off toward the exit of the locker room.

Lee and Amanda turned to see what he'd been looking at, but could see nothing beyond a few lingering players and two men in loud checked jackets who were making their way toward the same door Bela had just vanished out of, pushing past the pair as they did so.

"I bet they're not reporters," said Amanda. "And if they are, Bela obviously doesn't want to give them an interview. Hic." She frowned, annoyed that the hiccups were back. "Unless he's –hic- just allergic to their cheap cologne too."

"Well, I'm going to go follow them and find out," said Lee in a grim voice. "If those guys are associated with Ernst Laszlo, Bela could be in a whole lot of trouble." He headed for the door, then paused and looked back. "Come find me at the players' dorm later- say around 10? It's past curfew then and I'll be able to have a look around so I might have information to pass to Billy by then."

"Okay. Hic." Amanda waved him off. "But go make sure Bela's okay first."

Lee strode toward the door, scooping up an abandoned football as he went, then pausing at the exit. "Amanda? Surprise!" He pitched the football at her suddenly, making her squeak, even as she nabbed it out of the air.

"What was that for?" she admonished him.

"Bet that stopped your hiccups," he grinned and vanished out the door.