“They still do it. The Robert Lehman wing at the Met was built just to house his private art collection when he bequeathed it to the museum.”

“Huh,” he said, echoing his comment in the Met. His face had gone sharp and focused as he continued to look around. “It’s impressive.” He brought his gaze back to hers, and she felt the weight of his concentration. “Let’s see those Gutenberg Bibles.”

“There’s usually only one on display at a time.” She led him to the glass case, where a large tome was opened to show neat columns of bold black Latin words. Beautifully colored and gilded leaves and vines swirled up one margin. “The decoration was done by hand,” she said.

He stared down at it before sliding her a sideways glance. “Can you read any of it?”

“No, but isn’t it amazing how clear it still is, so if I could read Latin, I would be able to?”

“For something that’s over five hundred years old, it’s in good shape.” His grip on her hand tightened for a moment, and a bleak expression crossed his face.

“What is it?” she asked.

He shook his head. “Just thinking about the difference between my career and Gutenberg’s.”

“What do you mean?”

“His work is still important five hundred years later. Mine is—” He shrugged. Suddenly, the circles under his eyes were evident, and lines appeared around his mouth.

It hit her then. Here was a man who had reached the absolute top of his field. Her Internet search had led her to many discussions about who was the greatest quarterback of all time. About half a dozen names got thrown around, but Luke Archer’s was always on the list, even if someone occasionally ranked a different player higher. He had won the greatest honors in his sport. Fans adored him—he was the face of the Empire franchise.

Yet other discussions she had read were about his age and when he was going to retire. Would he go out on top, or would he keep playing until his body betrayed him? Would he stay with the Empire to the end of his career, or would they trade their longtime star to another team as he aged?

All that work and talent would fade away, leaving nothing behind but old game footage being rerun during the off-season. It must be hard for someone as driven as Luke to face the slow slide into oblivion.

“Your work has brought incredible joy to millions of football fans,” she said. “Remember what you said about making people happy? Parents and kids bond over your games.” She gestured toward the Bible. “As cool as this is, I’m pretty sure it doesn’t provide the same experience.”

The tension in his jaw eased, and his dimple appeared, as did his drawl. “I like to think you and I have bonded over this Bible, sugar.”

The potency of his dimple and his drawl left her breathless. The sudden glimpse of his vulnerability made her heart twist.

It was a dangerous combination. She pivoted on her heel and headed toward another display case, babbling, “Do you like classical music? Because there are some amazing manuscripts by composers like Mozart and Beethoven. There’s something cool about knowing their hands touched those pages.”

Luke followed her. She watched in fascination as the quarterback focused all his attention on the artifacts. His big body was angled over the display case, his gaze locked on the manuscripts. Every now and then he would straighten and glance around the room with the same laser stare he used on the football field.

She wondered if he planned to start his own library.

“Mr. Archer?” A bald man in rimless glasses and a tweed jacket approached them.

Luke nodded.

The man looked relieved. “I thought I recognized you. I’m Richard Brown, one of the curators here.” He offered his hand and Luke shook it. “Is there anything in particular you’re interested in seeing?”

“We came for the Gutenberg Bibles, so the rest is just icing on the cake.” Luke gave him one of his aw-shucks smiles.

“I wonder if I might make a request,” Richard said, his manner somewhat hesitant. “We would be honored to have an artifact of significance to your career in our collection. Perhaps a letter or a contract of some sort? I’m not very familiar with your sport, so I’m not sure what to ask for.” His eyes twinkled behind his glasses. “My wife would know better. She’s the football fan.”

For the first time since she’d met him, Luke Archer appeared to be at a loss for words. It lasted no more than a second before another smile twitched up the corners of his mouth. “You want something about football for the Morgan Library’s collection?”

Richard nodded.

“Well, I’ll be damned.” Luke’s smile spread wider, the sheer joy of it lighting up her own mood. “Beg your pardon on the language.”

“We value documents of cultural significance,” Richard said. “And as Justine informs me after every Empire game, you are an iconic cultural figure.”

Miranda could tell that Luke was enjoying himself, because he was laying on the Texas accent thick as he said, “I’ll go through my papers and find you the best darned document I have. Please thank your wife for her kind words.”

“We appreciate that.” Richard shook Luke’s big hand with both of his.

After the curator left them, Miranda and Luke headed to the library’s restaurant for lunch. As they sat in what had once been the private dining room in the Morgan family’s nineteenth-century brownstone, Luke still wore his dazzling smile.