Summer Love: The Best Mistake / Impulse

And a hell of a day it was for it, too, Coop thought. Balmy and clear-skied. He could almost smell roasting peanuts and hot dogs.

“While you’re hanging around a bunch of sweaty college boys in jockstraps, I’ll be snuggled up with a woman.”

“Under a flowered bedspread.”

“Yeah, but she says flowers make her feel sexy. And I’m here to tell you— My, oh, my…”

When Ben’s small, square face went lax, Coop turned. He felt his own jaw drop. And, if he wasn’t mistaken, his tongue landed on his shoes.

She was wearing what had to be the shortest skirt ever devised by man. Beneath it was a pair of endless legs that were molded into black fishnet hose. She swayed when she walked. How could she help it, when she stood in black skyscraper heels?

A tiny white bustier exposed a delicious amount of cleavage. Around her neck was a shiny black bow tie that, for reasons utterly inexplicable to Coop, made every male cell in his body sizzle.

Her hair was down, falling straight as a pin to her shoulders in a melding of tones that made him think of wild deer leaping through a sunlit forest.

She stopped, smiled, said something, but his mind had checked out the moment his eyes landed on her legs.

“… if you’ve settled in okay.”

“Ah…” He blinked like a man coming out of a coma. “What?”

“I said I haven’t had a chance to check and see if you’ve settled in okay.”

“Fine.” He folded his tongue back in his mouth and got a grip on himself. “Just fine.”

“Good. Keenan came down with a cold, so things have been hectic. I caught a glimpse of you hauling things up the steps a couple of days ago.”

“Hauling,” he repeated. “Yeah. Ben,” he said when his friend jabbed him. “This is Ben. He’s been giving me a hand moving.”

“Hi, Ben. I’m Zoe.”

“Hi, Zoe,” Ben said stupidly. “I’m Ben.”

She just smiled. It was the outfit, she knew. As much as she hated it, she couldn’t help but be amused by how it affected certain members of the species. “Do you work at the paper, too?”

“Yeah, I’m, ah, doing a story on neutering pets.”

“Really?” She almost felt sorry for him, the way his Adam’s apple was bobbing. “I’ll be sure to look for it. I’m glad you’re settling in okay. I’ve got to get to work.”

“You’re going out?” Coop said. “In that?”

Her lips twitched. “Well, this is my usual outfit when I’m carpooling, but I thought I’d wear it to work tonight. At Shadows—I’m a waitress. Nice meeting you, Ben.”

She walked to her car. No, Coop thought, swayed to it, in those long, lazy strides. They were both still staring when she pulled out of the drive and cruised down the street.

“Your landlady,” Ben said in a reverential whisper. “That was your landlady.”

“I think it was.” She hadn’t looked like that when he signed the lease. Beautiful, yes—she’d been beautiful, but in a wholesome, unthreatening sort of way. She hadn’t looked so… so… Words failed him. She was a mother, for God’s sake, he reminded himself. She wasn’t supposed to look like that. “She’s got a kid.”

“Yeah? What kind?”

“Human, I think.”

“Come on.”

“A boy,” Coop said absently. “This high.” He held a hand, palm down, about three feet from the ground.

“She may have a kid, but she’s also got legs. This high.” Ben waved a hand in front of his own throat. “You got a charmed life, Coop. My landlord’s got arms like cinder blocks, and a tattoo of a lizard. You got one who looks like a centerfold.”