Then he was grunting and stumbling backward, clutching the stomach her elbow had jammed into. She yelled something while he fought to get his breath back.

“Are you crazy?” he managed, then shot up a hand as she hefted a can, slopping paint over the sides as she prepared to use it as a weapon. “Lady, if you throw that at me, I’m going to have to hurt you.”

“What?” she shouted.

“I said, don’t throw that. I’m here about the ad.”

“What?” she shouted again. Her eyes were still wide and full of panic, and she looked capable of anything.

“The ad, damn it.” Still rubbing his stomach, Coop marched to the portable stereo and shut it off. “I’m here about the ad,” he repeated, his voice loud in the sudden silence.

The big brown eyes narrowed with suspicion. “What ad?”

“The apartment.” He swiped a hand over his cheek, studied the smear of white on it, and swore again. “The apartment.”

“Really?” She kept her eyes glued to his. He looked tough, she thought. Like a brawler with those broad shoulders, lean athletic build and long legs. His eyes, a light, almost translucent green, looked anything but friendly, and the faded Baltimore Orioles T-shirt and battered jeans didn’t contribute any sense of respectability. She figured she could outrun him, and she could certainly outscream him. “The ad doesn’t start to run until tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” Nonplussed, he reached into his pocket for his scribbled note. “This is the right address. The ad was for this place.”

She stood her ground. “It doesn’t run until tomorrow, so I don’t see how you could know about it.”

“I work at the paper.” Moving cautiously, he held out the note. “Since I’ve been looking for a place, I asked one of the girls in Classifieds to keep an eye out.” He glanced down at his note again. “Two-bedroom apartment on second floor, private entrance, quiet neighborhood convenient for commuters.”

She only continued to frown at him. “That’s right.”

Realizing his inside track wasn’t strictly ethical, he winced. “Look, I guess she got a little overenthusiastic. I gave her a couple of tickets to a game, and she must’ve figured she’d do me a favor and pass the information along a little early.”

When he saw that her grip on the can had relaxed, he tried a smile. “I knocked, then I came around back.” Probably best not to mention he’d wandered through the house first.

“The ad didn’t run the address.”

“I work at the paper,” he repeated. He was taking a good look at her now. There was something vaguely familiar about her face. And what a face it was. All slashing cheekbones and liquid eyes, that creamy porcelain skin women’s face cream ads always raved about. Her mouth was wide, with an alluringly full lower lip. At the moment, the face continued to frown.

“They had the address for billing,” he continued. “Since I had a couple of hours, I thought I’d come by and check it out. Look, I can come back tomorrow, if you’d feel more comfortable. But I’m here now.” He shrugged. “I can show you my press pass.”