THE HEART TEACHES BEST (REAL ROMANCE COLLECTION Book 2)

by M. J. Schiller

  Cooper placed his hand over hers. “Go ahead and get in. I’ve got the rest of these.”

  When he got in, she had stolen his yellow and brown San Diego Padres hat from the dashboard and placed it on her head as an attempt to control her hair.

  “Do you mind if I use this?”

  Cooper stared and then grinned. “Of course not.”

  “What?” She pulled the visor down to check the mirror. “Does it look weird?”

  He smiled. “No. You look cute. You know,” he added, taking her hand, “I don’t want you to worry about anything tonight, forget about all the craziness for awhile. I want to have a normal, quiet evening with you.”

  “I want that, too.” She brought his hand to her lips.

  When they got to the house, she set about seasoning the chicken while he hunted down the grill. He entered the kitchen through some French doors a few minutes later.

  “I’ve got it going,” he informed her. “And boy, is she a beaut! Much nicer than my little charcoal grill. It even had a button to ignite it.”

  “Yes,” she said slowly. “They have those now, caveman.” He picked up a radish and threw it at her, but she caught it, surprising herself with her dexterity.

  He came up behind her, placing his hands on either side of her on the counter. “Whatcha doin’?”

  She squirmed. “Making the salad. Do you want to open the wine?”

  “Thought you’d never ask.” In minutes, he had it open and was handing her a glass of Chardonnay. He leaned back against the counter, watching her face as she worked, peeling pieces of carrot into the bowl. He snuck a chunk of carrot from the cutting board and munched it while he studied her face.

  “You’re really beautiful, you know.”

  Her hands had been flying over the bowl, but now they stilled as her cheeks began to burn heat. She smiled, her voice tight. “Now you’re sucking up.”

  “No, I’m not.” She turned her head to look at him, then shook it and went back to work.

  “You don’t believe you’re beautiful, do you?” he asked, shocked.

  “Cooper!” She laughed, incredulous, wishing the cabinets would fall off the wall or the sink would spring a sudden leak, anything to end this awkward conversation.

  “Come here.” He took her elbow.

  “I’m making dinner—”

  “Come on. Put that stuff down,” he demanded. He pulled her into the hall where there was a large brass mirror in the shape of a sun. “You look at that and tell me you’re not gorgeous.”

  “Cooper, the meat’s ready to go on.”

  “Laney!” He held her. “Look at yourself.”

  She gazed at his reflection in the mirror, her eyes pleading with him, but he shook his head. She looked at herself, resigned. The bruises on her face had started to show the yellow tinge of healing, but she hid it pretty well with makeup. Still, when she measured herself, it was all she saw. She glanced away. “Oh, yeah! A real charmer! Bruises under my eye—”

  “Come on, Laney. Look beyond that.”

  Understanding he would give her no choice, she tried again, but her eyes only stayed on the image for a minute. “My eyes are too big.”

  Cooper laughed.

  “Don’t laugh at me!” she yelled and tried to get away from him.

  “Wait.” He forced her to turn toward him and was horrified to see tears in her eyes. “Laney! I wasn’t laughing at you. I was laughing because that is the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard. Your eyes were what drew me to you, that first night at Phat Jack’s.” He held her face in his hands, rubbing his thumbs on her cheeks, looking desperate to make her see the things he saw in her. “They’re incredibly blue—”

  “Stop it!” Uncomfortable, she dropped her eyes.

  “—and breathtaking. You take my breath away, Laney, every time I look at you.”

  Her eyes flew to his, her lips parted in mid-protest. She searched his face and saw reflected there the love in his heart, and it terrified her. She turned her head to lay it on his chest. “Please, Cooper.” She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to block out the image of his face. “Can we finish making dinner?”

  “If that’s what you want.” He kissed her forehead and pulled her in for one last squeeze before returning with her to the kitchen. “I’ll go put the meat on.”

  When he came back, struggling with the door against the wind, he found her wine glass empty. “Do you want me to fill you up?”

  “You wouldn’t be trying to ply me with wine, would you officer?” she smiled at him, seeming much more relaxed.

  “Damn straight, I am!” Is it working? he added in his head.

  “So, Cooper Sullivan,” she said, her voice more fluid than usual, “tell me about your family.”

  “Well, I have an older brother, Ben…he owns a construction company, married, three kids…three great kids,” he said with a smile. Laney stopped what she was doing for a minute to listen to him. “Then there’s Bree—Brianna. She works for a record company, and does all right for herself. She handles parties for various celebrities, record launches, organizes tour buses and trucks for equipment… I’m not sure what all she does, but I know she’s good at it and she has access to concert tickets and has gotten me in to see groups I would have never gotten to see on my own.”

  She leaned against the counter, halfway through her second glass of wine. “Like who?”

  “The Who, for one, and Nickelback—”

  “You saw Nickelback? I’d kill to see Nickelback!” she shrieked.

  “Okay, not exactly what you should say to a cop, but, yes, I partied with Chad and the guys.”

  “You are kidding! Oh, my gosh! I am so jealous. Could she get me in?”

  “I’ll see what I can do.”

  “That would be awesome!” She jumped into his arms and planted an ardent kiss on him. Her lips were warm and tasted pleasant, like the wine. But, as quickly as it started, it was over. “I need to go change for dinner.”

  He stood there, still stunned by the kiss. After several seconds his mind rolled around to, Should I be changing for dinner? But he decided instead to go check on the chicken. He was afraid the strong winds might blow out the flames. When he came back, he took his bag to a small bathroom he had seen and changed into a white shirt that buttoned up the front and khaki pants. As he sat back down on the couch, she entered the room. The clothes she changed into were simple enough, but on her, they had a certain VA-VA-VOOM effect. Sexy black heels with long-legged jeans, dark in places, and faded in others, a stop-sign red camisole, which conversely, seemed to be screaming “Go! Go! Go!” and over that, a sheer, long sleeved black blouse lending an air of mystery and raciness to the whole ensemble.

  “Ouch,” he muttered under his breath, his mind traveling to dark places where she was moaning his name. “Hey. Hey. You’re back,” he said cheerily, although his voice sounded strained in his dry throat.

  “Yes, I am.” She poured herself another glass of wine.

  He thought about telling her to slow down, but she began searching through the drawers for an apron, making a lot of noise. She found a black one and put it on, starting the fettuccine she had chosen to accompany the chicken. He watched her cook and chatted with her, occasionally letting his eyes slide up and down the lean lines of her body and mouthing, “WOW!” to no one in particular. Dinner was fantastic and he poured the last bit of wine into their glasses as they moved to the couch.

  “You know, most of my mom’s places have this kind of cold, rigid feel to them, but I kind of like this place. It seemed so huge before, more like a museum than a home, but the lamplight seems to draw everything together in its glow, making it more homey.”

  “I agree.” She was sitting with her legs curled to one side, her wine glass in hand, and he thought he would agree to about anything she said right now.

  “But did you see the elevator?”

  “Yeah, it said there are four floors.”

  “I rode it up and down. Th
ere is a sort of freight entry at the top, this floor, the pool/deck area, and then it goes all the way down to the beach.”

  “Pretty cool.”

  “Yeah,” she said sarcastically, rolling her eyes. She took a sip of her wine and began again. “Okay, so there’s Ben and Bree, and you—anyone else?”

  “McKenzie. Remember? You saw her at the police station.”

  “Oh, yeah,” she said, her face coloring. “I remember. What does she do?”

  Cooper laughed. “About anything she wants. She’s the baby, so she’s spoiled. She floats around from job to job like a butterfly to flowers. We ended up in the same grade, I was this side of the cut-off line, she was the other—we’re eleven months apart—and I was constantly having to get her out of trouble. But it was never much of a bother really. She has such a bubbly, outgoing personality, sometimes guys took it the wrong way, and I ended up having to…explain it to them. She wasn’t coming on to them, that’s just how she was. For instance, one time when we were in college, she was at a crowded bar with a group of people. There was this guy behind her, and she reached back to help him through the crowd so they could all stay together. He took it as a come-on, but she would have done it if it was you, or my mom, or my grandma. It wouldn’t have mattered who it was.”

  “So you had to explain it to him.”

  “Yeah,” Cooper said with a frown. “And he didn’t take it too well.” He pulled the hair that fell down over his forehead up and revealed a ragged scar. “That’s how I got this. Broken beer bottle.”

  “Oh!” Laney cried, bringing a finger up to trace the scar. Her touch sent a tingle through him. “You’re a good big brother.”

  “I try,” he said lightly, playing with her hair.

  “I wish I had a brother like you. But Sydney was kind of like a big brother to me, she defended me…” She stopped speaking.

  Cooper thought about how it would feel to lose Ben, Bree, or McKenzie, and he couldn’t fathom it. “I’m sorry, Laney.” His voice was soft. “I’m sorry you lost her.” He found his heart in his throat, as he so often did with her around. His eyes roamed over her face, and without even thinking, he heard himself saying, “I’d like to do that for you, defend you, protect you, from whatever might hurt you.”

  Her eyes searched his, and then she began to move forward. He closed his eyes as their lips met. Her fingers came to the side of his face, tentative at first. She pulled away, but her eyes remained on his lips. She ran a thumb over them, her face a study of concentration, then, she moved forward again, pressing her lips to his hungrily until it felt like their heat was searing him. His hands slid to the back of her neck, under her hair, pulling her closer. She changed positions until she was lying across his lap, her back on the thick arm of the couch. His hands traveled down the length of her arm and touched her leg, rubbing the ultra-soft fabric of her jeans along the side of her thigh, then sliding under her more intimately. She pulled away, standing up alongside of the couch.

  An apology was ready on his lips. He had gone too far, put too much pressure on her, and then she was reaching for his hand. “Let’s go to bed.”

  At first, his brain didn’t register her intent, but reflex had him sticking his hand in hers and following. But as his mind caught up, he cried out, “Wait! Wait!” She stopped, turning to him with a curious expression. He brought his hand again behind her neck, caressing as he asked her, “Are you sure, Laney? Are you really sure?” She nodded, and with a rush he pressed her against the wall. Their hearts knocked in their chests, their breath coming raggedly. He kissed her once, hard, on the lips. “You’re sure?” She nodded, desperate, as his lips sought hers again and again. Her leg circled behind his as his hands stroked along her sides, untucking her tank top and finding the desired warmth of her flesh. “Where’s the bedroom?” Instead of answering, she took his hand again and started to hurry down the hallway.

  After what seemed like an eternity, she opened a door to a bedroom the size of Cooper’s entire apartment. The bed itself was the size of Aidan’s room, which was the master bedroom, something he had lost to a coin toss the day they moved in. The bedspread was antique white with gold swirls, covering matching satin sheets and heaped with gold pillows of every shape and size. He kissed her again, then picked her up and moved to the bed, plopping her on it and falling on top.

  Their kisses were feverish now, a tangle of tongues and lips, heat and moisture, and racing need. He shifted his weight to the side and again pulled up on her tank to reveal her stomach, and his hands explored. They touched her stomach, both soft and hard, the indention of her waist, the curve of her hips where her low-slung jeans allowed him to feel the beginnings of those fabulous hips before his hands hit soft denim again. She drew her right leg up as if by reflex, bending it at the knee to plant the tip of her heel against the edge of the bed, enabling him to reach all of her leg. He pulled away and rubbed his hand up and down her leg, alternately watching what his hands were appreciating, and gazing into her face, relishing the effect his touch had on her. He slid his hand under her heel and pulled her shoe off, caressing her foot before releasing it and bending to kiss her once more. She wrapped her legs around him in such an erotic way he thought he was going to lose it, but she used her bare foot to kick off her other heel and then brought them back on either side of him. He reveled for a minute in thoughts about how strong and flexible she was and what it could do to him.

  His hands wandered under the tight spandex of her tank and he attempted to remove her strapless bra. She shifted and arched her back, again showing him how limber she was, allowing him access to the hooks. He unhooked and removed the bra, tossing it somewhere on the enormous bed. He brought both hands to her sides to encircle her waist, prolonging the anticipation as he brought them up, inch by inch, to cup her breasts. They both groaned as he touched her, and then the need to be pressed together, flesh to flesh, was overwhelming.

  Laney had worked his buttons open and he pulled back so she could take his shirt off. Her hands trembled as they returned to his skin. Her eyes followed her hands as they touched his chest and then his arms. Mimicking hers, he brought his hands to her upper chest, watching as they parted the fabric of her shirt and then he lowered his head and began to kiss her there. “Oh, Cooper…mmm…oh, it feels so good!”

  The sound of her cries, coming from deep within her, honed his desire and he pulled at the fabric to expose more skin. He unintentionally pulled too hard and popped the top button. The sudden give of the fabric before it strained against the next button was exciting and he began to pull with recklessness, popping button-by-button until the sides of her shirt were free. He yanked it off her shoulder and brought his mouth down to sink his teeth into her flesh for a minute. And then she reached down to pull his head back up until her mouth found his again in a frantic rush of pure lust and he knew if he didn’t slow things down, it would all be over too soon.

  Showing more restraint than he thought possible, he pulled away, gazing down into her flushed face. The rush of blood had made her lips ruby red, her hair was fanned out around her like a peacock’s tail, and as he watched her chest rise and fall with each gasping breath, he thought he had never seen anything more beautiful. No sunset over the beach, no mountaintop could compare to her, and the words came out as if pulled from him. “Laney, I love you!”

  He could not read what was in her eyes. He only knew what had been misted with passion, now cleared and became serious. Without a word, she pushed against him and ran out of the room.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Back in the bedroom, Cooper was chastising himself. I should have never pushed her so hard. Slow and steady, remember, Cooper! Ugh! What was I thinking? It’s her first time and I start ripping her clothes off. He got up and followed her. He reached the elevator as the doors closed and got the briefest glimpse of her anguished face as she hugged herself, trying to draw together her ripped blouse.

  “Dammit!” He pounded on the door, and punched at the
button. The Roman numerals on the dial above showed she had descended to the bottom level. He glanced around for a staircase, but seeing none, waited for the elevator, which was returning relatively quickly, leaning his forearm against the wall. He squeezed in as the doors parted. He had pulled his shirt back on, but not bothered to button it back up. He rode the elevator down, and when the doors opened, the wind rushed in and seemed to suck the breath right out of his lungs. He saw her ahead in the sand, stumbling toward the beach. “Laney,wait!” She turned and he rushed forward until he was five or so feet away and stopped dead in his tracks by the look of utter misery creasing her face.

  “I’m sorry,” he blurted out.

  “Sorry? Sorry?” she screamed over the howling wind, her hair whipping around her face in a frenzy. “Wasn’t I the one who led you to the bedroom, then ran out on you? Or was it all some bizarre nightmare?”

  He was caught up short by the pain lacing her voice, coupled with anger. “Please, Laney, can’t we go inside to talk?”

  “I don’t know what the hell I’m doing anymore!” she cried out, more to herself than to him. She pulled her hair back roughly from her forehead, holding it on the top of her head. Seeing her torment and knowing he had been the one to cause it was killing him.

  “Laney,” he pleaded, “won’t you come back?” He held out his hand to her and she stared at it without moving. He took a step forward and she took a step back. She turned her back to him, but before he could make another move, she whipped around.

  “I’m afraid, Cooper!” she screamed.

  “I know. I’m sorry. This was your first time. I should have taken it slow.”

  “No!” She stepped forward. “Ugh!” And then she did something he didn’t expect, she pushed against his chest. “It’s not that for God’s sake! I’m not afraid of that!” He put his hands on her arms, happy at least to have reestablished some physical contact with her.

  “Y-you’re not scared of me? ‘Cause Laney, I’d never hurt you. I got a little out of hand—”