by Vi Keeland
“Something like that.” The corner of his mouth twitches up, but he tries to hide his amusement.
Merging on to the scenic Pacific Coast Highway, Cooper hits the gas and the car’s power pumps up my adrenaline. The roar of the engine coupled with the beautiful late afternoon sun warming me as the wind streaks through my hair is invigorating. Freeing. A feeling I realize I haven’t felt in a very long time. I lean back into my seat, shut my eyes, and let myself sink into the sensation.
Cooper reaches across and gently lifts my hand from my lap, wrapping my fingers around the gearshift before his hand covers mine. Our eyes meet for a split second and we both smile.
“You like the car?”
“I like how I feel right now,” I reply honestly. Cooper’s hand tightens around mine.
A short time later we exit the highway, traveling off the beaten path for a while until we pull into a parking lot. I’m surprised to find we’re at a roadside food truck. This seems more my style than I would have taken Mister Custom Three-piece Suit for. He comes around to open my door and offers me his hand.
“Not what I would have expected,” I say.
“Sometimes the best things in life are the unexpected.”
The parking lot has a half a dozen worn picnic tables and the food truck looks like it’s seen its glory days … about a decade ago. Cooper doesn’t let go of my hand as he walks over to the older couple loudly arguing from inside the truck.
“Ah! Señor Cooper. Long time no see. We’ve been wondering where you’ve been,” the man exclaims in broken English.
“Busy, Carlos. Busy.”
“You work too much. Just like your father. God rest his soul.” The man makes the sign of the cross.
The man’s wife smiles at me and then speaks to Cooper in Spanish. “Esta es su novia? Ella es Hermosa.” The only words I understand are ella es hermosa—“she is beautiful.”
“Sí, ella es muy hermosa,” Cooper says, squinting at me with a devilish look on his face. “Y estoy trabajando en la parte novia.”
“Ahh.” The woman smiles at me and then says to Cooper, “Ella no tiene oportunidad.” She laughs.
“What did she say?” I ask Cooper.
“She said you don’t have a chance.”
“About what?”
He ignores my question. “They make the best tapas on the West Coast here.”
“You find someplace better on the East?” Carlos interrupts, looking highly offended.
“Just a figure of speech, Carlos. Just a figure of speech,” Cooper says, amused. “They have salads if you prefer,” he adds as I study the menu board.
“I like real food.”
He smiles like I’ve just given him the answer he hoped for. “Two Platos Combinados.”
“Dos cervezas por favor,” I add and Cooper arches an eyebrow.
I shrug. “Don’t be too impressed. I can only order two beers and ask directions to the bathroom.” We sit down at one of the picnic tables with our heaping plates. The smell is incredible. “So how many other languages do you speak?”
“Two—French and Italian. And what did you just do?”
“Nothing.”
“I saw you tap your knuckles on the table. Did you just knock on wood?”
I do so many things on autopilot, I seriously didn’t even give it any thought. I suppose most people I surround myself with are either used to it, or don’t pay close enough attention to catch my little idiosyncrasies. I shrug, trying to make light of it. “It’s good luck.”
“I thought it was more of an expression than an actual thing.”
“It’s a thing,” I say defensively.
“Guess it’s more your thing, than mine.”
“What’s your thing then?”
He doesn’t respond. Well, at least not verbally. But his eyes drop to my mouth and his lips curl to just a hint of a grin when his gaze returns to mine … damn it’s sexy. My insides do funny things thinking of what his thing might be.
“So. Three languages.” I lift a tapas to my mouth. “Prep school brat?”
Cooper chuckles at my quite obvious attempt to change the subject, but goes along with me anyway. “Actually, just the opposite. My father thought our school system was too segregated, so he put us in public school in a lower income area. Thought it would teach us about real life more than spending our days with a bunch of silver spoons.”
“Wow. Totally wasn’t expecting that response.”
“Told you to watch out about those expectations.”
I bite into the first of a packed plate of tapas. “Oh my god. This is incredible.”
“I wouldn’t steer you wrong.”
I inhale two small tapas. “How did you find this place?”
“Carlos and Glorya have been in this spot for almost thirty years. It was my parents’ favorite place to eat. My father always told everyone that he fell in love with my mother because she never ordered a salad.”
“Smart woman.”
“My mother said he took her here because he was cheap.”
“Which one was the truth?”
He smiles. “Both.”
When I’ve devoured almost everything on my plate and am reaching for the last sip of my beer, Cooper’s fingers circle one of my wrists. “They’re so small.”
I have to blink myself out of the dirty thoughts seeing his hand locked around my wrist conjures up. I swallow hard. “Is that a problem?”
“Not at all. I was just thinking I could probably fit both in one hand.”
Flustered, I ignore his comment and change the subject. “It sounded like you haven’t been here in a while?”
He nods and looks around. “It’s definitely been too long.”
“Too busy being a tycoon?”
“A tycoon, huh?” Lifting an eyebrow, he grins. “How do you know I’m a tycoon?”
“I can just tell.” I pause, but Cooper neither confirms nor denies my assumption. “Am I wrong?”
“No, you’re not wrong, actually. And what do you do? Aside from hustling cards?”
“Playing cards is sort of my job these days,” I say, trying to act like it’s a choice I’ve made, instead of something that I dread doing daily. I’d much rather be finishing up school than spending my nights in the high-stakes room, flipping cards to men who deal out hundreds like candy. Especially since most of them seem to think their stack of chips will impress me.
“You’re a dealer?” He doesn’t seem surprised. After all, I told him who my father was the other night.
“For now. I was in school, but had to take some time off.”
He nods, accepting my response without further prodding.
Another hour passes by in what seems like five minutes. Our conversation jumps from topic to topic, but there’s a buzz in the air that makes everything seem like it has a sexual undertone to it. He’s playful, some of his flirting innuendo is intentional, but my mind seems to want to read something filthy into everything he says. I finally eye the time on my watch. “Shoot. I didn’t realize it was so late. I have to work tonight.”
He nods and offers me his hand to stand up. The way he doesn’t let go and we walk to the car with our hands twined makes me feel like a teenager again. He opens my car door and I stop before getting in. “I probably would have passed right by this place and never even noticed it. It’s sweet that you come to your parents’ favorite place.”
“Pretty sure I’ve never been called sweet by a woman.” Cooper adds with a wry grin, “But if you like sweet, I’ll take it.”
***
My heart is heavy when we pull up to my apartment building. Cooper gets out to open my car door.
“Thank you for kidnapping me.”
“Anytime.” He says. “Are you going to agree to go out with me now, or do I need to kidnap you again?” He takes a step closer to me. “That one little taste wasn’t enough.”
My eyes close with dread. Everything about this man seems perfect, and yet I have to t
urn him down. Again. When I signed the contract for the show, I didn’t give any thought to what would happen if I met someone. Most likely because I hadn’t met anyone worth worrying about the last year. But of course, now I meet a man who gives me butterflies. And I can’t tell him about the show. Just like dating, disclosure of my involvement with the show itself is a violation of the terms.
Opening my eyes, feeling disappointment and regret at what I must do, I’m met by a sparkling sea of green intensity that threatens to drown me in lust, making what I have to say that much harder. “I can’t.”
Picking up on my lack of conviction or word choice, Cooper says, “Can’t? Or don’t want to?”
“Can’t.” I know it would be easier to lie and say I don’t want to, but something tells me he’d see right through me.
“Why?” He leans in just an inch or two. Our bodies aren’t touching, but the heat emanating from his skin ignites mine. Or maybe it’s the heat from my own body that sparks his. Either way, I can’t think straight with this beautiful man so close.
“I … I … I just can’t.”
“You can’t date me?”
I shake my head.
He leans forward to whisper in my ear. Voice gritty and strained, his warm breath sends a shiver through my body that I can’t even try to hide. “Can you kiss me?”
Too distracted to form a cohesive thought, I don’t respond right away.
Cooper pulls his head back slowly, the stubble on his cheek lightly grazing my sensitive skin, until we’re face to face. Smoldering eyes staring intently into mine, mixed with a hard, muscular body just inches away, make it easy to forget that he’s off limits. Banned. Forbidden. A complete violation of the rules of my contract. It only makes me want him more.
Swallowing hard, my mouth suddenly parched, I unconsciously run my tongue along my lips to moisten them, readying myself to finally speak. Cooper’s eyes drop, following the path of my tongue. As his eyes finally find their way back up to mine, I open my mouth to speak just as his lips crash down on mine.
I don’t even attempt to protest, immediately surrendering to the ferocity of a kiss that sets my entire body on fire. Our tongues find each other quickly, his leading mine in a just slightly aggressive way that excites me. Gently at first, the hard contours of his body press flush against the soft of my curves. Then I reach up, my hands threading the hair curling up at the edge of his collar. Cooper growls when I tug, pushing harder against me, deepening the kiss as we move from exploring to feverishly groping each other.
Both of us are panting wildly as we break the kiss. He tugs at my lower lip, claiming it roughly between his teeth before fully releasing my mouth.
“Wow,” I croak out, my mind still in a daze as my eyes flutter back open. Cooper’s thumb rubs tenderly across my now swollen bottom lip as his eyes come up to reach mine again. Flicking down to my mouth and then quickly back to my eyes, he looks torn between kissing me again and saying something.
“See, that wasn’t so hard,” he rasps, one side of his mouth tilting upward into a sexy half grin. “And that, Kate, won’t be the last time that happens. I promise you that.”
My wobbly legs carry me up the stairs, but I feel Cooper’s eyes on me every step as they lead me away. When I reach the top, I make the mistake of looking back. He’s leaning against his car, arms folded over his chest, watching me intensely with those piercing green eyes. Eyes that tell me he’s a man that keeps his promises.
Inside my apartment, I lean my head against the door for a few minutes as the haze of lust clears and my knees find their strength. Replaying Cooper’s vow in my mind, I reach up to feel my still swollen lips. And all I can think of is Oh shit.
CHAPTER FIVE
Cooper
“Mr. Montgomery?” Helen peeks her head in the door hesitantly. “The division heads are all in the boardroom for your weekly pitch meeting.”
I look at my watch and back to Helen. “Tell them I’ll be a few minutes.”
Helen looks confused. I’m never late and she’s no doubt wondering why I am today, since I’ve been sitting at my desk for the last hour doing absolutely nothing. I just can’t seem to concentrate this morning. She nods without saying anything else.
“Helen?” I call after her before she heads back out to her desk. “What time is Miles’s production meeting this morning?”
“I’m not sure. Let me make a quick call.”
A few minutes later she returns and hands me a few papers. “This is the schedule for the next week. Looks like the production meeting started a few minutes ago.”
I stand.
“You forgot your jacket,” Helen points out as I make my way to the door.
“Reschedule the pitch meeting to this afternoon.”
“Really?” She sounds shocked. I rarely go off schedule, especially with weekly meetings. Another trait inherited from my dad. Don’t cancel meetings, it tells people there is something more important than them. Today, that’s exactly the case.
“Make it late afternoon. I might be a while.”
***
Miles’s production meeting is already in full swing when I slip in unnoticed. I pick up a pad and pencil from the pile on the table in the back of the room, as if I might really take notes on anything he’s saying. He’s rambling on about the art of sexuality, but I don’t really hear a word. My brother notices me and waves, his already robust delivery of his lecture becoming even more animated for my benefit. He’s always been the showman of the family. I’m surprised he never wanted to be in front of the camera.
I nod and quickly scan the room, my eyes landing immediately on her. Unlike the other attentive women clinging to Miles’s every word, Kate is doodling something on the pad in front of her, not paying a lick of attention. It makes me smile.
“Let’s start out with an example of what is not sexy. We have some clips from the show that landed on the editing room floor. This isn’t the first day of shooting, ladies. We need to forget the cameras already.” Miles motions toward his dutiful secretary, and the concealed screen at the front of the room begins to inch down.
The video starts off with a kiss so awkward, it makes me uncomfortable just to watch it. Jenny Clark and I did better than that behind the dumpster in the back of the school in sixth grade. At least the way I remember my first kiss.
A second kiss comes on, this one a little better, but the woman looks right into the camera the second it’s over. Not exactly the voyeuristic feel my brother is going for. A few more roll across the screen, none of which hold my interest for long.
I watch as Kate glances up at the screen on occasion, but her doodling seems to have her rapt. The corner of her mouth quirks up slightly as her pencil swirls around the corner of the page. It makes me curious what she’s drawing. Then suddenly her pencil stops, she raises her head, and our gazes meet. And hold. She blinks a few times, almost as if she’s deciding if I’m really standing here or not, then her eyes widen when she decides I’m really on the other side of the room.
Amused at her reaction, I flaunt a smile and watch as she becomes flustered. Nervously, she looks to see if Miles is watching our exchange, then looks back to me. My brother is oblivious. He’s busy pausing the video so he can berate the poor women who he’s caught uncomfortably sharing a kiss with the moron bachelor.
Not quite sure what to do, Kate tries to ignore me. Her eyes dart all over the room—to Miles then back to me, down at her pad for a second, then quickly back up to me. My stare never waivers. She fidgets in her seat when she realizes I’m not looking away anytime soon.
I casually move from my position near the back door. Kate’s eyes flare wide when she realizes I’m walking toward her. I stop a few feet behind her. She shifts her hand to cover her doodle, but I catch it before she does. A script C is scribbled over and over. Again I’m brought back to sixth grade. Jenny used to scrawl my name all over her notebooks. I smile triumphantly. Kate’s fidgeting in her seat becomes more pronounced as I t
ake a step closer to her from behind.
I’ve lost track of what Miles is talking about as he drones on … until a close up of Kate freezes on the screen.
“Well, ladies. We’ve learned what a bad kiss looks like, now let’s learn what a good kiss looks like.”
Miles nods and his assistant begins the video again.
“Did you know,” says Flynn, the bachelor I’ve come to despise, yet never met, “that on the majority of dating shows, the first kiss on the show winds up being the last?” He reaches for Kate’s hand.
Kate looks down, watching him lace their fingers together. “I didn’t know that. But sounds like you may want to be selective with who you bestow the coveted honor on.” There’s a hint of sarcasm in her voice.
“Oh, I’m selective all right. I’ve been saving the kiss for the right one.”
Kate squints. “So you haven’t kissed anyone yet? That’s not what the ladies are saying.”
Flynn’s face shows surprise.
“According to rumors, you’ve kissed plenty more than one.”
“I haven’t,” he protests.
Kate looks up at the longhaired dickhead. “Why would they lie?”
“Strategy, I guess.”
“Hm. The thought of kissing someone right after they’ve kissed someone else does kind of gross me out.”
Dickhead takes their joined hands and wraps them around Kate’s back, pulling her close to him. “Well, I haven’t kissed anyone else, Kate.” He pauses and waits for her to look up. “I was saving it for the someone I thought might be my last kiss of the show.”
Kate opens her mouth to say something, but Dickhead doesn’t give her a chance. He seals his mouth over hers and kisses her. At first, it’s stiff—he’s kissing her, but she isn’t sure what to do. Come on, Kate, don’t kiss him back. Then the reality hits me like a blow. Her body melts into him and she kisses him back. Kisses the fucking asshole. I see Kate turn to sneak a look at me a few times, but I don’t ease my glare at the screen. The loud snap of the pencil I’m holding in my hand echoes through the room two seconds before I storm out.
