Refusing to take the card, I let her hand hang in the air. “I think, Ms. Starr, he’s made it clear he doesn’t want an interview.”

Anger surged out of her in a hot wave. “And you are?”

I couldn’t help it. Reyes might not want me in her crosshairs, but I could handle the likes of a Barbara Walters wannabe any day of the week. I didn’t say it gloatingly, but I did make sure to pronounce every syllable with infinite care when I said, “His fiancée.”

A soft gasp escaped her and she stepped back. After a moment, she shook back the long locks that had fallen over her shoulders and said, “Funny, he didn’t mention you the other day when I suggested we have dinner.”

“That’s because he had no intention of having dinner with you, Ms. Starr. There was no need. And aren’t you a little early for dinner?”

“Just tell him I dropped by,” she said, turning to leave.

The emotions radiating out of her were downright volatile. Reyes was right about her. She was nuts.

I retrieved my brush, but combing it through my hair proved too painful, so I tiptoed into the living room to check on the boys. While Osh lay sleeping in the exact same position I’d left him, Garrett was just waking up. Looking to my left, I figured out why. Cookie was in my kitchen cooking breakfast. She was a saint.

“Hey, Cook,” I said, nodding an acknowledgment toward Garrett as he stretched in the chair, then grimaced as a jolt of pain seized him. I knew how he felt. A jolt of pain seized me with the nod. No more nodding for me. “You will not believe who showed up at Reyes’s door a few minutes ago.”

She stopped what she was doing and checked the delicate watch on her wrist. “This early?” she asked.

“Yep, and it was none other than Sylvia Starr.”

“No,” she said.

“I kid you not. She wanted an interview. She’s tenacious, I’ll give her that.”

“I’ll give her a shiner if she doesn’t stay away from our boy.”

I gave her a thumbs-up before I had to do something about the wetness on the side of my mouth. She’d made a pot of coffee and I drooled. Like literally. I had to get a napkin.

“Have a cup,” she said, handing me a mug out of the cabinet and filling it to the brim.

“Cook, you know what I’m going through right now. And my head hurts.”

“Does it feel like a raging inferno engulfed your brain?”

“Yes.”

“Like a volcano went off and your everything exploded inside your skull?”

My god, she was good. “Exactly like that.”

“It’s caffeine withdrawal. I told you what would happen if you cold-turkeyed it.”

I grabbed my head as another spasm of pain jerked me sideways, slamming my head into an open cabinet door. Which did not help at all. “What the f**k? I thought you were exaggerating.”

“Nope. You’ll just have to suffer through it. But I’ve decided to join you.”

About that time, I noticed a coffee can sitting on my counter next to the eggs. A green coffee can. The color of the devil!

“What is that?” I asked, screeching as Garrett walked into the kitchen looking like a sleepy, sexy zombie.

He yawned and reached over our heads for a coffee cup.

“If you’re going to suffer,” Cookie said, “I’m going to suffer with you. I’m giving up caffeine, too.”

I scrutinized the mug in her hand. “What are you drinking now?”

“What we’re both going to be drinking for the next eight months. We’re switching to decaf.”

The horror that riveted through me, the absolute terror with a taint of nausea, stunned me speechless for three, maybe four seconds. I put the mug down and made a cross with my fingers, screaming, “Death before decaf!” as Garrett poured himself a cup. The fool.

“Oh, stop it.” She put down her cup and tried to give me mine back. “Just give it a shot.”

“I can’t. That’s like asking me to cheat on Reyes with Garrett.”

He scowled at me as he doctored his cup of devil’s blood with cream and sugar.

“Suit yourself,” Cook said, picking hers up and taking a long, lingering draw.

After a few agonizing moments, the aroma started to get to me. I almost caved because of that, not because of Cookie’s coffee  p**n . Really, who sucked on a mug like that? I leaned closer as she licked a drop sliding down the side and moaned in ecstasy. It was so wrong and yet so very, very right.

“It doesn’t smell like decaf,” I said, watching Garrett take a sip and waiting for his reaction. It was much the same as Cookie’s, without the licking and moans, but he did seem amused by her dedication. I was surprised she wasn’t gyrating against Mr. Coffee. Maybe if I stuffed a ten-spot down her bra.

“You’ve never even tried decaf?” she asked, sliding my mug closer.

I let the suspicion I felt show in my wary expression.

Her brows inched up, waiting. Clearly, she wasn’t going to give up until I did the deed.

“Fine, I’ll try it. But don’t be disappointed when I spit it out in disgust. Or when I vomit. Or when my head does a three-hundred-sixty-degree spin on its axis.”

“I’m not overly worried.”

“Okeydokey. You’ve been warned.” I lifted the cup as though it carried a lethal pathogen, carefully brought it to my lips, and sipped. Warm, rich, fake liquid gold slid over my tongue and down my throat, bathing my taste buds in utter ecstasy. My eyes rolled back into my head and I almost collapsed. “Oh, my god,” I said, taking another sip. “This is awesome.”