She dropped her jacket over the back of a counter stool. “There must be something about rural life you miss, or you wouldn’t have created that amazing garden.”

“I like growing things. Always have.” He tossed some spinach into a stainless-steel colander. “I started out at Oklahoma State with a major in plant and soil science, but then I discovered I’d actually have to go to class. ‘Student athlete’-now there’s an oxymoron.” He splashed water on the spinach and shook the colander. “I love the pace of city life, and as much as I like animals, I didn’t like raising them. Especially pigs.” He cleaned a handful of herbs and laid them on a paper towel. “I can’t tell you how many times those bastards managed to get out of their pen and tear up my vegetable garden. Pigs are the only animal I hate.”

She thought of Oinky. “Pigs are sweet!”

“That’s right. You sleep with one.”

“I don’t sleep with-”

He looked at her over his shoulder. “See how sweet you’d think they are, city girl, if you’d been six years old and had those two-hundred-pound porkers charge you whenever you went into their pen. One slip, and you’re lunch. They’ll eat anything.”

“Well, we eat them, so…”

“I’m not saying there isn’t some kind of divine justice at work, but kids and pigs don’t belong together.” He pulled out a chef’s knife. “I still have nightmares about them.”

“Let me get this straight. You, Cooper Graham, five-time first team All-Pro, two-time NFL MVP, are afraid of pigs?”

“Yep.” The blade hit the cutting board.

She laughed, then remembered she wasn’t here to be entertained. “I went to see Dell this morning. Not a single bruise on him.”

“Are you back to this again?”

“Did you know your close pal Keith and his girlfriend Taylor moved out of their place without leaving a forwarding address?”

He pointed the tip of the knife in her general direction. “For the last time. It was a mugging, not some preplanned attack.”

“I’m sure you’d like to think so. Help me sort through it, will you, so I can stop obsessing about it?”

He scraped the back of his hand over the beard scruff on his jaw. “Keith’s a hothead, but the two of us already had it out.”

“That was before Taylor got fired, right?” She located the eggs.

“Staging an ambush isn’t his style.”

“You have more faith in your old pal than I do.” She rummaged for some cheese and found a chunk of imported cheddar.

“While you’re sorting things out…” He gazed across the counter at her. She wished he’d pull up his pants. Or zip his sweatshirt. Or go bald. Except he’d still look great.

“Aren’t you overlooking a couple of more obvious villains in your imaginary scenario?” He carried the leeks over to a chopping board. “Starting with that mysterious client who hired you to follow me?”

“If I had any doubts about my former client, don’t you think I would have acted on them?” She located a skillet and cheese grater. “I promise you, my mystery client isn’t a threat.”

“Exactly. Nobody is. It was a random crime. Some thug who was lurking in the alley looking for easy prey.”

She wasn’t getting any more out of him now, and she temporarily backed off. “How are things with Deidre coming along?”

“Slower than I’d like, but she’ll come through.”

“You’re sure about that.”

“She’d be crazy not to. I have a great concept and the right connections to carry it off.”

She didn’t miss the determined set of his jaw. In Coop’s mind, once he’d decided on something, it was as good as done.

After that, they worked together without saying much other than “Stop hogging the sink” and “Where’s the sriracha?” She sautéed the vegetables in a little olive oil, tossed in the eggs she’d beaten, and topped them with the herbs he’d chopped along with a generous handful of grated cheddar. He took plain white plates from the cupboard and extracted the bread he’d put in the toaster.

By the time everything was ready, the domesticity of the scene had started making her itchy. She wished she didn’t like him so much, but how could she not? Coop was the man she’d have wanted to be if she’d been male. Setting aside his money and fame, he was smart, he understood hard work, and, except for being stubborn and dictatorial, he was rock-bottom decent.

“Let’s eat outside,” she said as he poured them coffee. “But only if you zip your sweatshirt first.” She needed a good reason other than the real one. “Those bruises aren’t exactly appetizing.”

“Your sympathy for human suffering warms my heart.”

“I’m a giver, all right.”

The corners of his eyes crinkled.

Even on a chilly October morning, the nook he’d created in the corner of the garden was inviting. Its vine-covered latticework made a natural windbreak, and the purple canvas chair cushions were thick and comfortable. It had been a long time since she’d had anything as tasty as the fluffy omelet she’d made with the ingredients he’d gathered. She was almost… happy.


***

Coop watched her across the table. Pipe didn’t believe in picking at her food, and even though she took small bites, she managed to consume the omelet in record time. When she remembered to eat, she gave it all she had, the same way she did everything. How could someone so tough, so determined, and so ballsy be so intrinsically female?

It was too damp and overcast for comfortable outdoor dining, but he’d been so conscious of the inviting bed above their heads that he hadn’t protested moving out here. It was a good place to cool off. Except all he’d done so far was heat up.

Pipe set her fork on her plate. He’d noticed before how dainty her hands were and made a mental note never to use that word to her face.

Earlier, he’d seen her staring at his chest. He’d initially assumed she was checking out his bruises, but then he remembered her attraction for that particular part of his body and decided something more interesting was going on in her head. But leaving his sweatshirt open on purpose was one of the biggest cheeseball moves he’d ever made. Still, anything that gave him an edge was fair game.

“Annabelle Champion doesn’t seem to think you have any crazed ex-girlfriends lurking around,” she said.

“Now what were you doing talking to Annabelle?”

“Satisfying my curiosity.”

“Well, stop it. You quit, remember? And I’m not hiring you back.”

“Who else do you trust enough to investigate what happened? She also said there’d been a couple of crazies.”

“Most recently? A loony named Esmerelda Crocker.”

“Totally harmless.”

“Are you?” He leaned back in his chair and took her in. Her face was so full of life. Those bright eyes had a whole world going on behind them. And that wide mouth… So much he wanted to do with that mouth. So much he wanted that mouth to do to him.

She took too long to look away. He smiled to himself. She wasn’t as detached as she liked to pretend.

She reached for that ratty messenger bag she carried around and pulled out a notebook. “You’ve been in the public eye for years. You have to have gotten your fair share of hate mail.”

“The Stars office still screens my mail. If they’d gotten anything they thought was serious, they’d have let me know.”

“Who do I talk to there?”

“You don’t talk to anybody. And put that notebook away. This was a random attack, and you’re trolling for a job.”

“A job that needs doing.”

“Really? Then why haven’t you brought up the most obvious suspect? My pal, the Prince of Darkness.”

She toyed with the edge of her notebook. “I’m getting there.”

“Very slowly. And I know why.”

She nodded. “Because I feel responsible.”

“You aren’t, but I like your guilt.” He appreciated the way she stepped up to the plate with none of the pretend ignorance so many people hid behind. Pipe was a straight shooter. Except when she chose not to be.

She balled up her napkin. “How was I supposed to know you were going to give Prince Aamuzhir a phony Super Bowl ring? And he’s in London now. Yes, I checked. Not that it means anything. And, yes again, I’m worried. It’s one thing dealing with a disgruntled former employee or a Broncos fan who’s still holding a grudge over that Hail Mary you threw against them on fourth-and-ten. It’s another thing entirely to deal with a foreign dignitary-and I use that word loosely. He could easily have hired that thug.”

“Look, Pipe. I know your heart’s in the right place, but the bottom line is that you’re an investigator without a job, and you’re trying to manufacture one.”

As soon as he’d said it, he wanted to take it back. Her eyes darkened, and her wide mouth collapsed at the corners, if only for a moment. She’d always been impervious, even amused, by the insults he’d enjoyed tossing at her-insults about the way she dressed, her ballsy attitude-but he’d insulted her integrity, and her hurt was painful to watch.

She rose from her chair, back straight. “I gotta go.”

He got up and blocked her way. “Hold on. That didn’t come out the way I meant.”

“I think it came out exactly the way you meant,” she said quietly.

“No, it didn’t.” He cupped her shoulders. She didn’t pull away. Instead, she lifted her head and stared him down, daring him to insult her again.

Her shoulders nestled in his palms. Her personality was so big that he sometimes forgot how small she was compared to him. “Pipe, you love what you do, and all I’m saying is-that could be impairing your judgment.”

She actually seemed to think it over. Finally, she shook her head. “No. But apology accepted.”

He hadn’t really apologized.

“And you’re the one with the impaired judgment. You want to believe the attack was random, so you’ve closed your mind to any other possibility.”

Her motives were pure, if wrongheaded. “I wish I’d had you on my offensive line when I was playing. Nobody would have been able to touch me.”

She smiled-open and genuine. Sulking wasn’t in her nature.

He wasn’t exactly sure when their eyes locked, only that he still had his hands on her shoulders and that his aches and pains seemed to have faded. She lifted her arm, and her fingers brushed his bruised jaw in a caress so gentle he could barely feel it. The breeze blew a strand of dark hair across her cheek. He wasn’t used to looking at anyone like this. Gazing so deeply. Seeing nothing but big eyes and a soft, inviting mouth. Kissing her felt like the most natural thing in the world.

She could have stopped him simply by turning her head, but she didn’t. She opened her lips and slipped her hands under his sweatshirt to touch his bare back.

Their kiss gathered heat, and their bodies melded. A hot rush of blood ripped through him. All he wanted was to be inside her. To satisfy her in a way no one ever had. He wanted to hear her moan. Have her beg him. Want him as much as he wanted her.

She had his sweatshirt off. He pulled her top over her head. She wore a black bra beneath. He drew her toward the big chaise.

The purple cushions were soft, but he landed on his bad side and winced.

She jerked back from him as if she’d burned him. “We can’t. You’re-”

He stopped her words with his mouth and rolled to his good side, taking her with him. He cupped her bottom through her jeans. He had to get them off her. Strip everything away. He heard a buzzing in his head as he slipped his finger under her bra strap. His lips went to her shoulder. The buzzing grew louder. Pushing him on. Louder still. More demanding.

She shoved herself away from him so abruptly he nearly fell off the chaise.

She reached for something.

The buzz… it wasn’t coming from inside his sex-obsessed brain. It was coming from above them.

A silver X-shaped drone hovered in the air overhead. He let out a blistering curse. The drone made a small circle just above the garden. Circled again.

And then it exploded.

Shards of fiberglass, plastic, and metal flew everywhere.

Piper stood in the middle of his garden, dressed only in her jeans and a black bra, her arm raised. And in her hand, the hand that had, only moments before, been caressing him, she held a semiautomatic pistol.

One shot. That’s all it had taken for her to bring down the drone. One perfect shot.

He sagged against the brick terrace wall. Nothing like a woman with a gun to spoil the mood.

13

The street below the terrace wall was quiet, with only a dog walker and a female jogger in sight. “You stay here,” Piper ordered as she pulled her T-shirt back over her head and bolted toward the French doors.

“Like hell!”

They spent the next hour scouring the neighborhood together. It would have been more efficient to split up, but Piper wanted to keep him in her sight. No one on the street had seen anyone operating a drone, but all of them wanted to talk to Coop about his career.