By Michael Silver

Taylor is still evolving on and off the field. "Nothing's ever good enough for me," he says. "I have a hard time basking in the moment because there's this constant pursuit of perfection, and that's a problem sometimes. But I'm trying to get better. I want to be a better communicator, a better listener. My wife wants to talk about details all the time; she'll tell these drawn-out stories, but I just want her to get to the point and move on. And I need to work on that. That's the kind of guy I am -- I always feel like there's something else I have to work on. I want to be a better father, a better husband."

This is as far as Taylor will go in discussing his marital discord: "Obviously, s -- - becomes public; the more fame you have, the more public it becomes, which doesn't help. I got my cage rattled. You work at it." Jason and Katina both say he has modified his lifestyle, giving up nights out with the boys (though he still hosts semiregular cigar-and-poker nights at the couple's home in Weston). "He's changing, and he wants to," says Katina. "Everybody's a work in progress, but he's made his family a priority. He's a great husband, a great father. We're in a very good place, thank God for that. Because when I think about where we were a year ago. . . . "

That was when Jason, in that strained phone conversation last summer, mentioned retirement to Katina. That discussion remained private until now, but last Dec. 31, just after the Dolphins' season-ending loss to the Colts, Taylor brought up the subject publicly, telling reporters, "Yes, I will have to think about it. There are no guarantees." He backed off a few days later -- "I just wanted to see if anybody cared about me," he jokes -- and now says that "barring something drastic, I'm here to play out my contract," which lasts through the 2009 season.

Sitting in a chic restaurant at the Peninsula Hotel in Beverly Hills, Katina barely glances at her menu. "I think I'll have the rib eye," she announces, sending her husband into laughter because a half-hour earlier, at a diner on Melrose Avenue, Katina had enjoyed a vanilla milk shake and fries. "I'm still hungry," she says, shrugging. "Sometimes I eat like this, but I don't really put on weight when I do."

Wearing a casual top with spaghetti straps, Katina says she feels chilly, and the waiter offers to bring her a shawl. Moments later the Taylors get into a debate over the Bush Administration's foreign policy, with Jason playing the role of James Carville to Katina's Mary Matalin. Yet even as they argue, they hold hands under the table. If the Sand Man could see this, he would smile and package it as a magical matrimonial moment, perhaps with Tim and Faith in the background singing It's Your Love.

And if you asked me why I changed
All I gotta do is say your sweet name
It's your love. . . .

But this isn't a p.r. stunt; it's just another beat in the busy life of two well-meaning people who don't pretend to have it all figured out -- two American kids doing the best they can. There's a red-eye to catch and, upon arriving home, three attention-hungry children to satisfy. There are business meetings and a youth football camp to prepare for, real estate deals to consider and everything else that goes along with Jason's quest to get ahead -- and stay out in front.

The waiter reappears, looking apologetic. "We seem to be out of shawls," he says, instead producing a large, off-white blanket that has seen better days. "I could give you this," he says uncertainly. Katina starts to shake her head no, but Jason puts his hand on his wife's goose-bumped arm. "Give it to her, please," he says softly.

The waiter complies. Katina feels the warmth and smiles.