Kiss Me If You Can by Carly Phillips Page B

days passed in a flurry of interviews and activity, leaving him no time to investigate the ring’s history or Lexie’s grandfather’s possible involvement.
    Finally, Friday evening arrived. He had one last article to pull together for the evening edition, then he was off for the weekend, unless something big cropped up that he didn’t want to miss out on.
    Coop entered the lobby in the recently remodeled building. The news offices were on the seventeenth floor. Mirrored walls and trees lined the side walls and people were already leaving for the day.
    As usual, Coop stopped by the security desk inthe center of the lobby to say hello to his buddy, Chris Markov, the uniformed guard at the desk. The same age as Coop, the two had been friends for over five years and now played on the same summer softball league.
    â€œHey, man. How are you?” Coop asked.
    Chris lifted his hat and scratched his head. “Not bad. Yourself?”
    â€œHanging in. Are you off duty soon?” Coop asked.
    â€œSure am. I’m taking my son to the Renegades’ home game.”
    The mention of the team reminded Coop of his date with Lexie tonight. His mood, which had taken a beating with the depressing stories he’d been covering over the last few days, shifted gears and lightened.
    â€œGreat weather for a baseball game. The little man ought to have a blast,” he said of Chris’s seven-year-old son, who he’d been raising on his own since his wife walked out when the boy was three.
    â€œHe loves the Renegades,” Chris said, laughing.
    â€œI hear you. Have fun. I’ve gotta go write my story so I can get out of here. Catch you later.”
    Coop turned to leave, when Chris called out, stopping him. “I’ve been tossing the obvious gifts from the single ladies in this town, as you requested. But this came for you earlier today and it doesn’t look like female lingerie.” He pulled out a largebrown box with the word Fragile stamped in red on the top and bottom.
    Chris had been happy to take over handling the Bachelor’s goodies. But he was right. This package looked more legitimate. Coop wasn’t expecting any deliveries, but in his line of work you never knew who’d send you something they thought could be a lead on a crime. Although this was a little larger than anything he’d received before.
    â€œDoesn’t look like the fancy blogger stuff from last week.” Chris, who’d gotten way too much enjoyment out of ribbing Coop about the gifts, chuckled yet again. “I imagine the fact that you’re engaged has something to do with the women backing off.”
    Chris knew damn well Coop wasn’t engaged, but persisted in giving him a hard time anyway. “Back off,” Coop muttered good-naturedly. “And quit reading that garbage.”
    But it still boggled the mind how many people in this city read the Bachelor Blog. Throughout the day, at the hospital where the rape victim had been brought, everyone from nurses to candy stripers to the woman who worked reception had recognized Coop as the Bachelor. Some had merely stared and whispered to their female friends. Others had tried their best to convince him outright to date them instead of staying with his current girlfriend. Humiliating, yet he had no choice but to suck it up.
    And he wasn’t about to give Chris any more ammunition.
    The other man laughed. “Of course I read the blog. Hey, I sit at a desk for eight-plus hours a day. What do you expect? Even if you’re not engaged, at least you’re getting some action.”
    â€œI take it you’re not?” Coop asked his friend. From Chris, Coop knew how hard it was to date women when you had an impressionable kid around, not to mention the fact that Chris’s mother practically lived with them to help out.
    â€œNah. You’re definitely getting more than me if that photo is anything to go by.”
    Oh, no.