She’d forgotten it. All she knew for one glorious moment was that she was being held in strong arms, that her mouth was being savored wonderfully, and that needs, so long dormant, were swimming to the surface and breaking into life.

Touch me. She wondered if she said it, or if the words simply whirled hazily in her head. But his hand, hard and sure, ran once down her body, kindling fires.

She remembered what it was to burn, and what it was like when the flames died out and left you alone.

“Coop.” Oh, she wanted, so badly, just to let it happen. But she wasn’t a young, reckless girl this time. And she had more to think of than herself. “Coop. No.”

His mouth clung to hers for another moment, his teeth nipping. But he drew back. He was, he realized, as breathless as a man who’d slid headfirst into home plate.

“Now I’m supposed to say I’m sorry.”

She shook her head. “No, you’re not. I’m not.”

“Good.” The hands that were resting on her shoulders kneaded once, then slipped away into his pockets. “Me neither. I’ve been thinking about doing that since I first saw your feet.”

Her brows rose. Surely she’d heard him wrong. “My what?”

“Your feet. You were standing on the ladder, painting. You weren’t wearing any shoes. You’ve got tremendously sexy feet.”

“Really?” It amazed her that he could tie her into helpless knots one minute, then make her laugh the next. “Thanks. I think.”

“I guess I’d better go.”

“Yeah, you’d better.”

He nodded, started out. This time, when he stopped, she braced, and she yearned. But he simply turned and looked at her. “I’m not going to try to talk you into bed. But I want you there. I figured I should let you know.”

“I appreciate it,” she said in a shaky voice.

When the door closed behind him, she let her weak legs fold and sat down on the couch. What, she asked herself, was she supposed to do now?

Chapter 6

When Coop dragged himself out of bed, it was nearly noon. He stumbled into the shower and nearly drowned himself before both of his eyes opened. Wet and out of sorts, he rubbed himself down, gave a moment’s thought to shaving, then dismissed the idea.

He tugged on gym shorts and a T-shirt before heading directly to the coffeemaker. While it brewed, he opened his front door and let the full power of the sun shock him the rest of the way awake.

They were in the yard, Zoe and Keenan, laughing as mother tried to help son hit fungoes with a plastic bat. The kid wasn’t having much luck, Coop noted. But he was sure having fun. He started to step back inside before either of them spotted him. But the jock in him had him kibitzing.

“He’ll never hit anything standing that way,” Coop called out, and had two pairs of big brown eyes looking up in his direction.