“We are.”

“I’ve, ah, got a little time, if you want me to help you put that grill together.”

“No thanks. I can do it.” She slanted him a look. “I’m going to grill burgers later. You’re welcome to join us. Unless you’re afraid it will lead to a commitment.”

She shoots, he thought wryly, she scores. “Thanks anyway. I’ve got plans. Maybe I could take a rain check.”

“Fine. You know where to find us.”

He got drunk. Not sloppily, but thoroughly. When Coop poured himself out of the cab and staggered toward the house, he already knew he’d hate himself in the morning. But it was tonight he had to deal with.

He leaned heavily against Zoe’s front door and waited for the porch to settle down under his feet. She might think they’d finished, he told himself blearily, but she was wrong. Dead wrong.

He’d thought of a dozen things he had to say to her.

There was no time like the present.

Lifting a fist, he pounded on the door. “Come on, Zoe.” He pounded again. “I know you’re in there.” He saw a light flick on inside and kept on pounding. “Come on, come on. Open up.”

“Coop?” From the other side of the door, Zoe belted her hastily donned robe. She’d been home from the lounge for barely twenty minutes and in bed for less than five. “It’s after two o’clock in the morning. What do you want?”

“I want to talk to you. Let me in.”

“We’ll talk in the morning.”

“You just said it was morning.”

When he pounded again, she flicked off the locks. “Stop that—you’ll wake Keenan.” Furious, she yanked open the door and had the surprise of a hundred-and-seventy-pound male tumbling against her. “Are you hurt? What happened?” The alarm signals that had screamed on shifted when she caught the scent of beer. “You’re drunk.”

“Mostly.” He started to straighten, then lost himself in the smell of her. “God, you feel good. What d’you wash this in?” He nuzzled her hair. “Smells like moonbeams.”

“Really drunk,” she said with a sigh. “Sit down. I’ll get you some coffee.”

“Don’t want coffee. Doesn’t sober you up, only wakes you up. And I’m awake, and I have something to say to you.” He drew away then, and discovered he wasn’t as steady as he’d hoped. “But I’ll sit down.” He did, heavily. “Hate getting drunk. Haven’t done it like this since I played minor league. Did I tell you I played minor league ball? Triple A.”

“No.” Baffled, she stood her ground and watched him. “Right out of high school. Two years. Thought I’d make it to the show. The majors. But I didn’t, so I went to college, and now I write about people who did.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No.” He waved that away. “I like writing. Always did. Like watching the games and seeing all the little dramas. If I’d have played, I’d be nearly washed up now. I’m almost thirty-three. Old man for the game.” He focused on her, smiled. “You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen in my life. You know, the kid looks just like you. Look at him, see you. It’s spooky. I see you all the time. Minding my own business, and pop! There’s your face in my head. What d’ya make of that?”