“A womanizer?” Zoe supplied. “A creep, a rich, spoiled egotist? I know—now. What I saw then was a gorgeous, charming man who sent me roses and jetted me off to Monte Carlo for intimate dinners. I was dazzled. He told me he loved me, that he adored me, worshiped me, he couldn’t live without me. I believed him, and we became lovers. I thought, since he was my first, he’d be my only. Anyway, I didn’t realize he was already getting tired of me when I found out I was pregnant. When I told him, he was angry, then he was very calm, very reasonable. He assumed I’d want an abortion and agreed to pay all the expenses, even to make the arrangements.”

“A real prince.”

“It was a logical assumption,” Zoe said calmly. “I had a career on fast forward, in a field that wouldn’t wait while I put on weight and suffered from morning sickness. He, of course, had no intention of marrying me, and thought, rightly enough, that I knew the rules of the game. I did know them,” she said quietly. “But something had changed when the doctor confirmed the pregnancy. After the disbelief, the panic, even the anger, I felt good. I felt right. I wanted the baby, so I quit my job, moved away from New York and read everything I could get my hands on about parenting.”

“Just like that?”

“Well, there were some scenes, some dire predictions, and a lot of anger, but that’s how it worked. Roberto and I parted less than amicably, but with the agreement that he would stay out of my life and I would stay out of his.”

“What have you told Keenan?”

“It’s tough.” And it never failed to make her feel guilty. “So far I’ve just told him his father had to go away, that he wasn’t going to come back. He’s happy, so he doesn’t ask a lot of questions.”

“Are you? Happy?”

“Yes.” She smiled and touched his cheek. “I am. All my life I wanted a home, a family, something solid and settled. I didn’t even know it until Keenan. He changed my life.”

“No urge to go back and smile for the camera?”

“Oh, no. Not even a twinge.”

He cupped a hand behind her neck, studying her. “It’s such a face,” he murmured. Right now he liked the idea of having it all to himself.

Chapter 8

The concept of car pools obviously had been devised by someone with a foul and vicious sense of humor. Having lived most of his life in cities where public transportation or a quick jog would get a man from his home to his office, Coop had never experienced the adult version.

But he’d heard rumors.

Arguments, petty feuds, crowded conditions, spilled coffee.

After a week as designated driver, Coop had no doubt the kiddie version was worse. Infinitely worse.

“He’s pinching me again, Mr. McKinnon. Brad’s pinching me.”

“Cut it out, Brad.”

“Carly’s looking at me. I told her to stop looking at me.”