by Silver James
Her dress was gone, along with the frilly things she’d worn underneath. He stalked out, headed to the kitchen. It was too much to hope that she’d be there fixing coffee. The kitchen was pristine. His housekeeper had been there just yesterday and he’d come home from the office, showered, donned his tux, and headed to the Western Heritage Museum for the benefit. Which reminded him. He’d need to get dressed and hike over there to pick up his truck. Good thing he basically lived across the street from the museum.
Lucifer demanded breakfast so Coop poured out some kibble and added a couple spoonfuls of wet food. He set the cat’s bowl on the floor and then got to the important stuff. Coffee. He poured a pot of water into his coffeemaker and snagged a mug while it brewed. Then he got the bright idea to check his security system. Not that he’d taken the time to arm the house last night. He’d barely had the presence of mind to disarm it, and that only because he didn’t want to be interrupted by phone calls or knocks on the door. Barron Security was nothing if not thorough. And knowing his little brother, had the alarm gone off, Bridger would have been the one showing up and standing there in the doorway with a cocky grin on his face.
He swiped the electronic tablet on the breakfast bar that separated the kitchen from a large family room as he settled on one of the bar stools. Running the video feedback, he watched as they arrived the previous night. The feed followed him through the house, carrying Britt, but cut off at his bedroom. The next motion-activated camera clicked on at 6:26 a.m. The sky outside was still dark but traces of gray showed on the eastern horizon. Outside lights, triggered by Britt’s movements, clicked on and he followed her around the corner to the driveway. She climbed into that monster truck of hers, started it and got it turned around so she could head down the drive. The cameras mounted on the gateposts at the street showed the metal gate sliding open at the approach of her truck, closing once she was clear. The last look he got was the rear of her truck as she pulled out onto 63rd Street and drove off.
“Note to self,” he muttered. “Kill the pressure plate in the drive and put in a code pad.” If he’d had that, she wouldn’t have been able to get away. Again. He had to be the world’s biggest glutton for punishment. Except the heat between them was enough to scorch the eyebrows off anyone standing too close.
Three times. They’d been together three times and he’d given her multiple orgasms. So why did she keep skipping out on him? His morning breath couldn’t be that bad.
How many times would he watch her sneak away before he got smart? He was known to be stubborn but this whole deal had finally reached a level of absurdity even for him. He should cut his losses.
“Third time’s the charm,” he groused. His brother was right. He was cursed. And he was done. Britt Owens was not the only smart, sexy and totally fascinating woman in the world. Too bad she was the only one who kicked up a storm in his heart.
Six
Lost in his thoughts, Cooper was paying no attention that Monday morning when the Barron Tower elevator doors slid open and he took one step into a wall of muscle. His boss, Cord Barron, stiff-armed him back into the elevator car. Cord’s brother Chance and Bridger joined them as the doors whispered shut. Bridger stabbed the button for the thirty-fourth floor, where Barron Security had offices.
“Somebody wanna fill me in on what’s going on?”
The other three men simply stared at him. The car stopped, the doors opened, and two secretaries got on. Cord and Chance were both married but that didn’t stop the women from checking them out before their gazes came to rest on Cooper and Bridger. That’s when the flirting started. Bridge indulged. Cooper didn’t. He was still steamed over Britt’s disappearing act Saturday morning. As a result, he was annoyed with the entire female half of the population.
Thankfully, the women were headed to a different floor and stayed on when the elevator got to thirty-four and the men exited. He pretended not to hear the sighs and titters as the doors closed. Coop hunched his shoulders and followed the others through the impressive reception area of Barron Security.
“Still wanna know why I’m here,” he muttered.
“You’ll find out as soon as Mom gets here.”
He furrowed his brows, staring at his younger brother. “Why is Mom coming into town?”
“Because this is her deal, according to Cash.”
“Then why are Cord and Chance here?”
“Because Mom’s involved.” Bridger’s tone implied that Coop was a simpleton. He didn’t add the implied well, duh.
A low hum of activity followed them down the hallway to the executive offices. Cheri, Cash’s personal assistant, handed everyone a cup of coffee as they passed the side bar on the way to Cash’s office. A huge black dog lunged off the leather couch, barking happily as his tail cut through the air like an old-fashioned fan. The Newfoundland, belonging to Cash’s wife, Roxie, greeted everyone before returning to his spot on the couch.
“Take your dog to work day?” Chance asked, smirking.
Cash rolled his eyes. “You try telling Harley he can’t go for a ride.”
As the men settled in the sitting area with their mugs, Coop remained standing. He wasn’t out of the loop very often and the fact he was this time irritated him to no end. Considering everything that had happened Friday night, he’d been expecting his family to get all up in his business. They didn’t. Which was unusual. So maybe they’d just been biding their time, gathering the facts, and were now ready to ambush him. Yeah, that’s probably what this was.
His fingers brushed over the bruise on his face, compliments of the crazy dude who’d accused Coop of getting his sister pregnant. Except Coop hadn’t been with anyone. Well, he’d been with someone...
Coop wanted to kick his own ass. He had to stop thinking about Britt. She was old news. They’d had an unfortunate series of one-night stands. They didn’t have a relationship and since she ditched him after each encounter, they didn’t have a future. It didn’t matter that her sexy scientist vibe turned him on. He shifted uncomfortably, his body reacting to the memory of making love to her.
His mother chose that moment to breeze through the door. She made the rounds, doling out cheek kisses to all, sons and nephews alike. She held up a finger, freezing Harley as he sat up in preparation for an exuberant greeting but ruffled the dog’s ears to show him he was still loved. Then she sank into a deep leather armchair, reigning like a queen.
Her gaze pinned first Bridger, who was bringing her a cup of coffee, and then Cash. “So,” she said, accepting the cup. She sipped, swallowed. “Did you find out anything?”
Cash deferred to Bridger, who gave a brief rundown. “Alex Carrington, full name Alexander Adam Carrington, is from Hartford, Connecticut. He graduated from Harvard with a BS in business. He’s a vice president of CCI, Ltd. As near as we can figure, CCI is some sort of holding company. His father is Colby Carrington the third.”
“Trey.”
Bridger continued to drone on about parentage, stepmothers and siblings, and Coop figured he was the only one who caught the breathy word his mother uttered. This whole conversation caught him off guard. He’d figured this was an ambush about the alleged pregnancy and/or Britt. But there was way more going on.
He watched his mother, noticing the hard glitter in her eyes. She was edging toward angry. It took her a long time to blow her stack but when she lost her temper, people ran for cover.
“He bought his ticket to the fund-raiser six weeks ago, when it was announced,” Bridger continued. “We don’t know why he is here or why he would approach—”
“I know,” Katherine announced. “I want to know about the other things I asked you to look into.”
This time, Cash deferred to Chance, the senior partner of the Barron law firm. “The guy who attacked Cooper—and nice shiner you got there, bud—has no criminal record. He was arrested and released on his own recognizance.” He
looked back at Cooper. “You know a guy named Steve Maddox?”
Coop shook his head. “No clue who the dude is.”
“How about Susan or Susie Maddox?”
“Nope.”
“That’s his sister and she’s claiming that you’re the father of her unborn child.”
Hands fisted, Coop came off the wall where he’d been leaning and made it two steps before Chance stopped him. “I’ve confirmed she is pregnant.”
“I didn’t—”
“Of course you didn’t, Cooper,” his mother interrupted. “Your father and I taught you boys better. Hear your cousin out.”
Chance nodded to Katherine before focusing once more on Coop. “I’ve also confirmed that she had a live-in boyfriend and that he moved out when she told him she was pregnant. Apparently, she’s filing a paternity suit naming you. As soon as she does, I’ll be filing papers with the court demanding a prenatal paternity test, along with costs and damages when her claim is proved false.”
He walked a file over to Coop and handed it to him, a photo on top. “Be positive you don’t know her, Coop.”
* * *
Britt huddled into a chair at a table in the corner of the bright room. Every kind of soda pop bottle imaginable lined the walls of Pops 66. People at the other tables were enjoying all manner of roadside diner food and soda pop. Why she’d thought this was a good place to meet Ria Simms, the morning on-air meteorologist at Channel 2 and the closest thing to a best friend she had, escaped her at the moment. The food aromas made her stomach queasy and the ginger ale she’d ordered wasn’t helping. The other woman breezed up and slid into the chair opposite her.
“You look like crap,” Ria announced with a big smile. Her sunny disposition was perfect for the early newscast. Britt was not a morning person and perky just didn’t help her mood, all things considered.
“Can you tone down the cheerful?”
“No. Besides, that’s why you called me. You always call me when you’re feeling down.”
A waitress arrived, took Ria’s order, and disappeared.
“How can you eat a double bacon cheeseburger at ten in the morning?” Britt’s stomach lurched at the thought.
“I’ve been at work since four a.m. This is like noon to me. Don’t worry. I’ll share my fries.”
Britt held up a hand, feeling more than a little green. “No. Don’t do me any favors.”
Dropping her voice, Ria turned serious. “So it’s like that, huh? I remember those days. How far along?”
She held up three fingers and then wiggled a fourth. She could all but see the wheels turn in Ria’s head and quickly preempted the other woman’s question. “Don’t ask how it happened.”
“Fine. Then who’s the father?”
“Don’t ask.”
“So I can’t ask how and I can’t ask who. Guess it’s a good thing I do the weather instead of hard news.” Ria paused while her drink was delivered. When the waitress was out of earshot, she said, “Well, whoever he is, have you told him yet?”
Britt didn’t answer, suddenly fascinated by the bubbles in her glass of ginger ale.
“If you know who—”
“Of course I know who!” Britt was furious that Ria would even consider she didn’t.
The other woman held up both hands to temper Britt’s anger. “Down, girl. Wasn’t insinuating you didn’t. I was simply predicating my question. Since you know who, why haven’t you told him?” Her eyes widened. “Oh, no. Please don’t tell me it’s someone at the station.”
“It’s not.” Just a relative of the owner. Britt felt even more nauseous.
“Whew!” Ria swiped the back of her hand across her forehead to emphasize her relief at that news. “So what’s the problem?” She blinked. “Oh, goodness. He’s not married, is he?”
That earned her a growl from Britt. “Who do you think I am, Ria?”
“Well, I didn’t figure you for someone who would get involved with a married man, but some of the men I know can be both slick and sneaky about stuff like that. I’ve had friends get caught in their traps.”
While Ria ate her burger, Britt found herself inexplicably telling the whole story. Of the life-altering events in Beaumont, the need—and hunger—for a human connection. Of the off-the-charts chemistry between her and Coop, without naming him. And the fact that she’d been with him three times and had taken off without saying anything much less goodbye all three times. She let slip about the incident at the benefit and covered her mouth in shock as Ria did the same.
“Dudette! Do not tell me that you were in the middle of that...” Ria blinked rapidly. She grabbed her smartphone, did a search and scrolled through the pictures that popped up. “You were. I recognize your dress now. How you managed to keep your face out of those pictures...” She glanced up, stared. “It’s a freaking miracle you weren’t identified.”
“Yeah, I know. Totally lucky. But here’s my dilemma. I know I have to tell him. Well, I don’t really have to—” She held up her hand to stave off Ria’s argument. “I don’t have to tell him. Not too ethical on my part if I don’t. But at the same time, here’s this bimbo who’s also having his baby. I mean, it’s not like I want to marry him or anything.”
Except she had daydreamed what that would be like on more than one occasion. And now that she’d seen where he lived? Wowser. His house was perfect. She didn’t think she could sit down and plan a house that fit her any better than his, at least from the parts of it she’d seen. And there was that zing of electricity that ignited whenever they touched.
But chemistry didn’t equal love. And given the current situation, he might think she was just another gold digger.
“So you’re worried that he’ll think you did this on purpose to get his money?”
She tuned back into the thread of conversation, shocked Ria’s thoughts paralleled her own. “What?”
“Britt, Cooper Tate is rich. I mean, serious money. His mom is a Barron, and half the Tate boys work for the Barron brothers. Then there’s Deacon, who’s a megastar in Nashville. I know for a fact that all of the Barron brothers have had at least one paternity suit filed against them.” Ria tilted her head. “Except they were all proved false. Well, except for Cord. That whole story never made it into public domain, but there’s no doubt that Jolene Davis’s little boy is his. All you have to do is look at the two of them side-by-side. That kid is his dad’s mini-me. Anyway, people are always trying to get their hooks into the Barrons and the Tates to get at their money.”
“I don’t want his money.”
“I know that. But, hon, it takes two to make a baby and having a village to help raise it is a big help.”
“He used condoms.” Well, he had until last night. Of course, the horse was already out of the barn by then.
“And condoms break.” Ria laughed, the sound as bright and breezy as her personality. “That’s how Tick and I ended up with our first.” She reached across and patted Britt’s arm. “Honey, I know this is hard, but there’s a couple of things you need to consider. One, as the biological dad, he has a right to know, and to take part in any discussions pertaining to—”
“No. I’ve already decided to keep the baby.”
“Okay, okay. I figured, considering you’re coming out of your first trimester. But have you considered the monetary side of things? Yes, we have good insurance at the station, and liberal maternity leave, but it’s expensive to have a kid. As the biological father, he should be responsible and help pay medical costs and child support.”
Ria was right. Britt knew that deep in her heart, but honestly, she was terrified of Cooper’s reaction, especially coming on the heels of Friday night. That guy hitting him and claiming Coop had gotten his sister pregnant? Crazy sauce. And now for her to drop her little bombshell into the conversation, considering how many times she’d taken the chicken’s
way out and bailed on him? He was going to hate her. And she could raise this child alone. Her dad had done it with her and her little brother, after her mother took off. She could, too, because she really didn’t want to be tied down to a man like Cooper Tate.
“You need to talk to him, Britt.”
Squinting her eyes shut, she exhaled. “Yeah, I know.”
“And the sooner the better.”
Yeah, she’d get right on that. Not.
Seven
Fed up with civilization and the machinations of the female half of the human race, Cooper was relieved to have business that took him out of Oklahoma City. BarEx was drilling a new well down in the Anadarko Basin. Thanksgiving at his mom’s had been a full-court press from his family. He hated being the center of attention, but at least everyone was on the same page. That whole deal at the gala had been a setup.
Before leaving the office, he’d changed into old jeans and a ratty T-shirt, though he also pulled on a polo shirt bearing the company logo—the clothes he usually wore when working in the oil patch. He planned on spending the rest of the day playing roughneck, getting his hands dirty. He had hopes the hard work would drive the thoughts of both the woman trying to trap him with her false claims and the woman he wanted to entice back into his bed out of his brain.
Music from his brothers’ latest album filled the cab of his pickup truck. Deacon and Dillon had gotten all the musical talent in the family. He couldn’t carry a tune in a bucket and he’d driven the piano teacher his mother hired to teach him the basics to the nearest liquor store for a bottle of wine. But he could play ball—football and baseball, though not well enough for a D-1 school, much less the pros. Nope, he was just happy hunting, fishing and working on the ranch in his spare time.
