by Laura Moore
The steady stream of designer rags and trimmings wasn’t likely to run dry either. Even though Margot had two kids and had announced her semiretirement, her agent, Damien Barnes, continued to receive requests for her. That she was still in high demand in the fashion world came as a surprise only to Margot. In Jade’s opinion, Margot was more beautiful than ever. Jordan was too, for that matter. Happiness could do that.
Dressed, Jade dragged a brush through her hair and applied some lip gloss. Grabbing her handbag and room key, she headed down to the hotel’s bar to have a nice relaxing drink.
Rob Cooper nursed a bourbon on the rocks and cast baleful glances at the bar’s rain-streaked windows. The storm hadn’t diminished in intensity. And from the looks of it, the front had stalled directly over Virginia, which was damned annoying since the most interesting sessions at the law-enforcement conference he’d been attending had ended earlier, as had his dinner spent catching up with Phil Reynolds, a buddy from their days at the police academy.
There was nothing to do but to wait out the storm in the hotel bar. When it started to move, Rob would too. His weekend bag was packed and already in the trunk of his car. He was itching to get home. But driving through a storm when there was an advisory posted was not a risk he was about to take when he had Hayley to consider.
Strictly speaking, he didn’t need to be back in Warburg tonight; his room was booked through tomorrow. His sister, Emma, was babysitting. She and her very-soon-to-be seven-year-old niece had events planned right through Sunday. Hayley had been talking for days about one of the weekend’s highlights: an all-things-horsey movie fest. She’d personally compiled the list.
Driving over to Emma’s, Hayley had been bouncing in the backseat as she rattled off titles.
“First Aunt Emma and I are going to watch The Black Stallion and then The Black Stallion Returns. After that, it’ll be National Velvet and Into the West and—”
“Hidalgo.”
“Uh-huh. And maybe My Friend Flicka too.”
He’d glanced at her in the rearview mirror. She was glowing with excitement. “You know, if you get tired of watching movies about horses, there are some great—”
“Daddy!” Hayley’s cry was accompanied by a disbelieving roll of her brown eyes. The very notion that Hayley Elizabeth Cooper might ever tire of anything horse-related was beyond absurd.
No sooner had they pulled in front of the doll-size ranch that Emma was renting on Stonewall Lane than Hayley bounded out of the car with her backpack that they’d packed the night before. It was crammed not only with her clothes, toothbrush, hairbrush, and hair elastics but also with Lucky, her stuffed pony, who slept in her arms every night, and with four of her favorite Breyer horses.
As Rob had knelt down, Hayley rushed toward him and, dropping the backpack by his feet, threw her arms about his neck and gave him a loud smooch on the cheek. “Bye, Daddy.”
“Bye, Hayley. You be good, okay? And go to sleep when Aunt Emma asks.”
The silk of her hair rubbed his face as she nodded. Then she was cantering off up the walkway like a little girl–centaur, just as Emma came out the front door to greet them.
“Who are you riding today, Hayley?”
Rob watched Hayley rein her imaginary pony to a trot. “Ginger.”
“Well, the jumps are still set up in the backyard,” Emma told her. The week before, she and Hayley had fashioned jumps using tipped-over lawn chairs and a collection of brooms, mops, and garden rakes. So far, Hayley’s horses hadn’t shied at any of them. They were that well trained, his daughter had explained proudly. “Once you’ve finished riding, we can go shopping for dinner.”
“Okay. Bye, Daddy. Have a good time at your conference,” Hayley called again, and, without further ado, his daughter made a clucking noise and her short, tanned legs picked up a canter, carrying her around the back of the house.
“I thought little girls liked to play with dolls and makeup or do gymnastics all over the lawn,” he said, walking up the path with Hayley’s bag.
His sister nodded. “Mmm-hmm. And then there are the ones who love horses. You might want to consider signing her up for riding lessons.” She took Hayley’s backpack from him and slung it over her shoulder. “It’d be a nice birthday present.”
“I was thinking I might wait and see if her interest fades.” More than half the population of Warburg rode horses, but Rob wasn’t sure how he felt about his little daughter getting involved in the sport. He wished he’d looked more carefully into the activities available at the camp Becky’s parents had chosen for Hayley when she’d gone to stay with them for three weeks earlier in the summer. He hadn’t realized it offered horseback riding as well as swimming and crafts. Not that it would have mattered. He wanted Becky’s family to have a say in Hayley’s life too, and it would have hurt their feelings if he’d torpedoed their choice of a summer camp.
“Don’t hold your breath, Rob.”
To tell the truth, he wasn’t all that optimistic about Hayley’s love of horses fading anytime soon either. She was a passionate little girl, fiercely loyal and just as stubborn. “You’re probably right. I’ll ask around about riding lessons.”
“Good,” Em said simply. “So, you off?”
“Yeah, after I drop by the station. Scott said he had something for me. If the traffic’s not bad, I should be in Norfolk around seven. I’ll call when I’ve reached the hotel.” He dug his wallet out of his khaki pants and pulled out some bills. Emma was working as an instructor at the fitness studio in town while she finished her college degree. Though she loved the job, the pay wasn’t going to make her rich anytime soon. “Here’s money for groceries and any extras. I’ll be back—”
“Sunday afternoon,” she answered for him.
“I was toying with the idea of driving back Saturday night—”
“Don’t. We have a ton of stuff planned—Hayley wants to go back-to-school shopping for new sneakers, so I’m really glad you gave me way too much money—and Mom and Dad want some quality time with her.”
“But you’ve got work.”
“Scott’s around too. He’s going to take Hayley out for pancakes after they walk Dexter. You know how she loves that. You’ll only be cramping our style if you come back early.” Perhaps catching something in his expression, she said, “Rob, you’re doing a great job of being a single parent. Hayley’s a terrific, well-adjusted kid. But she won’t stay well adjusted if you don’t start getting a life that encompasses a wee bit more than her and the Warburg police force. Why don’t you take advantage of your trip to relax and have a little fun? Because, really, none of us want to see your ugly mug until Sunday afternoon.” She gave him her sternest look. “Got the message?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
On his way out of town, he’d stopped by the police station and found Scott in the locker room, changing into his workout clothes. It took about twenty seconds for him to realize that his little sister and older brother must have decided on a two-pronged attack. She’d talk about how there was more to life than raising Hayley; Scott would focus on his favorite subject—getting laid. His brother obviously had decided to address the topic of Rob’s sex life—or lack thereof—head-on.
Spotting Rob, Scott turned back to his locker, grabbed something off the top shelf, and said, “Here, a going-away present.”
Rob stared at the foil packages in his palm. “Gee, Scott. I’m touched, really touched. But I’m not sure you want to give up a single one of these. What’s the new one’s name? Mandy? Candy? Sandy? Dandy?” He drew his brows together.
“Randy,” Scott supplied with a grin. “As in Miranda Taylor, who was a year ahead of you in school. And though Randy is very enthusiastic, I think I can spare these for a good cause and, man, are you ever in need.”
“Thanks. I have condoms of my own.” He stretched out his hand to return the prophylactics.
Scott crossed his arms over his chest. “Yeah, and they’re probably in an unopened box in your
medicine cabinet. You’re supposed to use them, not collect them. Seriously, Rob, the guys and I think—hell, even Uncle Joe agrees—you need to blow off some steam. And other bodily fluids.”
“You know, I don’t often wish I served on a different police force than my father, uncle, and older brother, as well as every other meddlesome cop in Warburg.”
“Meddlesome?” Scott grinned. “That’s harsh, Rob. We just love you and damned well want you to loosen up. I saw you pull over Mrs. Crawford the other day.”
“She was speeding.”
“For Christ’s sake, Mrs. Crawford is Warburg’s head librarian. Mom ran into her at choir practice. She was practically in tears, mortified that she’d broken the law by driving five miles an hour too fast.” Scott shook his head. “Nailing nice old biddies with speeding tickets indicates that you are in serious need of an intervention.” Grabbing another handful of condoms from his locker, he shoved the packets into the breast pocket of Rob’s button-down shirt. “Okay, now you’re ready to lock ’n’ load.”
“Lock ’n’ load? No wonder your girlfriends don’t stick around for longer than a month.”
“And that’s just fine by me,” he replied, unrepentant. “Variety is the spice of life. Which is exactly what you need. Unbend a bit, little brother, and go find yourself a woman.” A rare solemnity came over his features, banishing his teasing grin. “It’s been five years since you lost Becky, Rob. We know you loved her—we all did. But it’s time to turn the corner. For your sake as well as Hayley’s.”
Five years that could have been five minutes, so large was the gaping hole in his heart, so fresh the pain. But he really didn’t want to talk about Becky with anyone, not even his brother. He stared into Scott’s pale-blue eyes and let the silence stretch.
Scott was wise enough to refrain from pursuing the topic. “Drive safe, and remember to unbend a little.”
“Don’t let Hayley cross the street without holding your hand,” he’d said in reply. On the way out of the locker room, he’d stopped to drop the condoms into the trash bin and found a certain grim satisfaction in Scott’s pained sigh.
The ice cubes rattled against the glass as Rob took another sip of his bourbon. Thanks to the storm, it looked as if he wouldn’t be testing his family’s displeasure by defying their edict and returning early. It didn’t mean, however, that he was going to start cruising the bar.
Unbend a little. Scott’s comment still nettled.
What his brother failed to recognize was that Rob had always been a straight arrow. How could he not be when he had his older brothers’ accomplishments to live up to—not just Scott’s but Aaron’s? Aaron worked for the commonwealth’s attorney in Richmond. If their achievements weren’t enough of a benchmark, both his father and his uncle had served as Warburg’s chief of police. Uncle Joe was on his second term.
Since Becky’s death, Rob’s world had narrowed to raising his little daughter and working. What else was there? He’d gone out on a few dates in the last year, mainly to get his family off his back. But the women, every one of whom had been pretty, interesting, and accomplished, had left him unmoved. If he couldn’t feel a damned thing inside, why bother entering into a relationship?
The fact was that, though he loved his mother and his sister, only two women really mattered: One was the sweetest, funniest six—God, make that nearly seven-year-old in the world. The second had been lying in Warburg’s cemetery for five long years. Christ, he missed Becky’s laugh, her smile … her love.
He knew Emma and the other members of his family had a point. It’d be good for him to start dating and let a woman into his and Hayley’s lives. But he couldn’t believe he’d ever find one as wonderful, as sweet and kind and loving, as Becky had been. For his daughter’s sake he’d try—just not tonight.
With the storm blasting Norfolk, the hotel’s bar was doing a brisk business, but Rob wasn’t inclined to mingle or approach any of the women sitting at the black lacquered tables, leaning back against the red suede banquettes, or swaying to the music on the dance floor beneath a twinkling mirrored ball. His bourbon was fine company.
He drained his glass. Setting the tumbler on the counter, he glanced over at the bartender to order a second drink. An exercise in futility. The guy’s gaze was riveted on the bar’s entrance. Whoever had just walked in must be pretty fantastic. Since it was clear Rob wasn’t going to be getting another bourbon anytime soon, he decided to take a look himself.
Magnetic was the first word that came to his mind; within seconds she’d drawn every male eye in the bar to her. Trouble was the second. A woman who looked like this, slim and yet curvy in all the right places, with sun-streaked hair that fell past her shoulders in thick waves, and with a walk that was bold yet carried sensual promise in each step, could only cause mayhem. White jeans encased legs long enough to put a smile on most men’s faces. Thanks to the high-heeled, silver-strapped sandals she sported, those legs were even longer. A corner of Rob’s brain registered the fact that it was likely they’d be as long as his—definitely long enough to make a man’s mouth go dry.
The top she wore, some sort of printed tank, wasn’t terribly revealing. She didn’t need to flaunt her charms. Hinting was all that was required. And, yes, underneath the patterned fabric she was deliciously rounded exactly where it mattered, and as lithe as a young cat everywhere else. Every guy in the bar was doubtless thinking how much he’d like to stroke her until she purred.
In the wrong place, a woman this hot could start a riot.
The dynamite package only got more explosive as she neared and Rob took in the lushness of her lips and the high slash of her cheekbones. Passion and drama. The subdued lighting made it difficult to determine the color of her eyes, but he figured they must be light, probably blue.
Becky’s eyes had been brown and as large and innocent as a doe’s. The thought had him turning away. But not before he’d noted that the woman was heading toward one of the empty bar stools. The bartender, recovering enough wits to realize that he was about to get caught ogling her, managed to drag his gaze away long enough for Rob to signal for another round.
It was Rob’s second nature, as a cop, to listen and observe. And, despite his previous indifference to the women in the bar, he found himself studying this one. Her outfit was sexy but not overtly so; she’d entered the bar alone but didn’t appear to be on the prowl. After ordering a Tom Collins with an easy smile for the bartender, she’d begun nibbling on the Japanese rice crackers without sparing so much as a glance at the other patrons. Of course, with looks like hers, she didn’t need to check anybody out. The men would come to her, unable to resist.
And not too far from the dance floor, there was a large table of guys. He thought they might be with the other conference—something to do with pharmaceuticals—that was being held at the hotel. One of them had already mustered the courage to approach, while the others around the table monitored his success, their expressions a mix of glee and envy.
This was going to be interesting.
THESE RICE cracker things were addictive, Jade decided. They had a nice little wasabi martial-arts kick. When she got to Rosewood she’d have to get some for Jordan. If she was super-clever, she might even manage to tempt Margot into sampling one or two. Margot’s self-discipline when it came to steering clear of any foodstuff that wasn’t blue-ribbon health-certified was prodigious. Jade planned to someday exert a little self-discipline in that area too, but until then, gorging on junk food and watching Margot freak out was a lot of fun. Travis wasn’t the only one who could get Margot’s heart thumping, though obviously his approach was a little more involved.
Content, she popped another cracker into her mouth and then took a sip of her Tom Collins, which was deliciously tart. The bartender had added extra lemon, as she’d requested. Amazing what a good drink and a decent bowl of crackers could do for a body, she thought with a smile of satisfaction, as she raised her glass and took another slow sip of her cocktail.
It was then that she noticed a guy standing about four inches from her elbow. She kept the glass to her lips, hoping he’d place his order and wander off. When he didn’t, she realized he wanted to talk. Her first impulse was to sit there and chugalug her drink, because she didn’t want to deal with anyone right now. But getting blitzed would be stupid.
With a sigh, she lowered her glass, reaching for more of those crackers as she did—the bartender was doing a great job keeping the bowl full for her. Nice of him to be so useful.
She couldn’t say the same about the guy standing next to her. From the corner of her eye, she’d seen that he was staring at her with annoying gob-smacked wonder, as if he was Adam and God had just fashioned her. Sorry to disappoint, but Jade had no intention of being his Eve. She redirected her gaze to the row of brandies lining the wall opposite her and began reading their labels. It was never too early to think of Christmas. Owen might enjoy a really fine brandy as a present.
“Hi, can I buy you a drink?”
The guy was definitely lacking in perception. She held up her glass. It was three-quarters full. “No, thanks.”
“How about a dance?”
“I’m kind of tired.”
“Well, how about I take this seat here and we can kick back and relax? Get to know each other.”
Jade had a sudden wish for her mom’s engagement ring, which she’d inherited. It was a big, flashy hunk of rock. Very much an “I’m taken” ring, and so like her dad to have bought it for the woman he loved. And though Jade hated the hypocrisy of what it was supposed to have symbolized, given her mother’s infidelity, she sometimes slipped it on her left hand when she didn’t want men hitting on her.
Of course, the ring was at Rosewood. She wasn’t going to risk having such an expensive bauble lost or ripped off from the dorm in which she’d been lodged down in Florida. She might need to sell it one day.
