“Uh-huh. Matt almost throwed up in Coop’s car.”

“Threw up,” Zoe said as she carried Keenan inside.

“Uh-huh. ’Cause it was my turn to ride in the front. I had the best time, and Coop helped me to swim without my bubbles. He said I was a champ.”

“That’s just what you are.” She collapsed with him on a chair. The idea of fixing dinner, changing into her uniform and serving drinks for six hours loomed heavily. “Give me a hug,” she demanded, then soothed herself with some nuzzling. “Definitely a champion hugger. Why don’t you come in the kitchen and tell me what else you did today while I fix dinner?”

A half hour later, as Zoe was draining pasta and Keenan was entertaining himself with crayons and paper on the kitchen floor, she heard the sound of Coop’s feet on the stairs. Her heart sped up. The normal, healthy reaction made her smile. Imagine, she thought, believing herself immune to men.

She left the pasta draining in the sink and went to the back door just as he came to the foot of the steps.

“Hi.”

“How’s it going?” Coop jingled the keys in his pocket. Did she look all lit up? he wondered. She was smiling, and despite the shadows of fatigue under them, her eyes did have the prettiest lights in them.

“I was just going to call upstairs. I thought you’d like some dinner after a hard day at the pool.” She opened the screen door and leaned out to kiss him. The smile dimmed a bit when he eased back. “It’s just chicken and pasta.”

It smelled nearly as good as she did. He glanced inside—the homey scene: cluttered counters, fresh flowers, steam rising from a pan on the stove, the child sprawled on the floor, the pretty woman offering him food and kisses.

A definite trap.

“Thanks, but I’m on my way out.”

“Oh. I thought you had a couple hours before game time.” She laughed at his arched brow. “I guess I’ve been paying more attention to the sports scene. Baltimore versus Toronto, game one of three.”

“Yeah.” When she starts to take an interest in your interests, she’s really shutting the cage door. “I’ve got some stuff to do.”

“Can I go with you?” Keenan dashed to the door to tug on Coop’s slacks. “Can I go to the game? I like watching them with you best.”

Coop could almost hear the locks clicking into place. “I’ve got too much to do,” he said, with an edge to his voice that had Keenan’s lips quivering. “Look, it’s not just a game, it’s my job.”

“You said I was good luck.”

“Keenan.” Zoe put her hand on her son’s shoulder to draw him back, but her eyes stayed on Coop’s. “Did you forget Beth was coming over to stay with you tonight? She’ll be here soon, and you’re going to watch a tape of your favorite movie.”

“But I wanna—”

“Now go wash your hands for dinner.”