“A big difference.”

“Only if you believe money is all that counts.”

“And fame. And nightclubs. And Super Bowl rings—”

“Which neither of us has.”

“—and Hollywood girlfriends.”

“People say opposites attract. The funny thing about that is we’re not opposites. We’re the same person, different sides of the same coin.” A muscle twitched at the corner of his jaw. “Except I’m clearheaded and you’re not.”

“That isn’t—”

“Here’s what I don’t get: Why is it so hard for you to believe I could love you?”

He was trying to confuse her, and she said the first thing that came into her head. “I’m not beautiful. And you’re famous. And I’m not domestic.”

He turned belligerent. “Is that all you’ve got?”

“And your money.”

“You already mentioned that.”

A group of businessmen had spotted him and began to close in. She spun on them. “Not now!”

For once, Coop didn’t try to make up for her brusqueness with a good ol’ boy acknowledgment. He didn’t even turn.

The men shot her a few dirty looks as they backed away. She didn’t care. She’d play bad cop forever to protect him.

“Here’s what I know.” His intensity was scaring her. “Your father might have meant well, but he screwed with your head so bad that you’ve lost touch with who you are inside. It’s you against the world, and you’re scared to death of anything that makes you feel vulnerable.”

She had to fight back. “This coming from Mr.Tough Guy himself.”

“I’m stubborn and I’m driven, but I’ve never pretended to be invincible. You’re the one with the will of steel.”

“That’s not true!” she exclaimed. “I fell in love with you, didn’t I? And nothing could make me feel less invincible than that.”

“Which is exactly why you’re so hell-bent on pushing me away.”

He was wrong, and there was only one way she could make him understand that and end this forever. She’d have to go through with it. Gut it out until it was blindingly clear to him... and to her... what an impossible couple they were. She shot up her chin and glared at him. “Okay. I’ll do it. I’ll move in with you. We’ll give it a few weeks and then you’ll see.”

He drew her to his chest. “Oh, babe...”

She closed her eyes. Rested her cheek against his chest. Surrendered.

He clasped her face in his palms and pressed his forehead to hers. Their noses touched. He brushed the tip of his nose gently against hers. “The thing is...” he said. “That invitation’s off the table.”

“What?” She reared back. He’d thrown a fake. A classic quarterback fake.