Annabelle swallowed. Her throat was dry, too dry to speak. She reached for a glass of water from the bedside table. Even with one eye, she liked what she saw. But she couldn’t remember who he was. He wasn’t a stranger, she knew that much. Could feel that much.
“Come in.” Her voice sounded raspy and harsh. But maybe that was the way it always sounded.
He hesitated before entering, turning back to the hallway, he ushered two little blond girls into the room. Her daughters. Thank God. She recognized them. Olivia. And Sophie. The two bright lights of her life. The reason she fought through… What had happened to her? She closed her eyes, trying to recall the details.
There was screeching, crunching of metal, shattering glass, and blood. So much blood.
She remembered the blood.
Her daughters crept carefully into the room, eyes wide as they took in her appearance. She must be a real mess. Sophie clutched the man’s hand. No. It was Olivia. Sophie never wore pink. Or did she?
“Mommy, you look like a mummy.” Sophie skipped over to the side of the bed. The child’s energy bounced off her in waves. “Maybe I’ll call you Mummy from now on. Like I’m British.”
Her daughter’s laughter filled Annabelle with joy, taking the edge off her pain and confusion.
Olivia scooted closer to the man. He must be someone close to them. Olivia was slow to warm to people. She wouldn’t just reach out for someone if he wasn’t special.
So who was he? And how did she ask without looking like an idiot, or worrying her girls?
“How are you feeling, Annabelle?” She recognized his voice. It was familiar, comforting, and every bit as sexy as the rest of him. They way her name rolled off his tongue made her believe he was a lover. But she was married. No, divorced. Everything was mixed up in her head.
She reached for her water again, took a long swallow, and watched him watch her.
“I’m a little sore.” She tried to smile but her skin felt tight. Especially over her left eye. The one covered in a bandage. “But I’m alive.”
He smiled, his lips curved almost sinfully, and his gaze roamed over her banged up body as if he knew what she looked like under the sheet.
If he wasn’t her lover, he wanted to be.
How could she even think about things like that? After what she’d been through? And with her daughters right there in the room.
“Mr. Cooper said to be careful when we saw you.” Olivia peeked out from behind his legs. “And not to bounce the bed. He said to ask before giving you a hug.”
“Just Cooper. You don’t have to call me mister,” he said to Olivia, but he didn’t take his eyes off Annabelle.
“Can I give you a hug?” Olivia asked, her voice more cautious than usual.
“Of course.” Annabelle braced for the contact. The man, Cooper, picked her daughter up and gently set her on the bed. Olivia gave her a small squeeze and she felt warm tears against her face. “It’s okay, baby. Mommy’s okay.”
Chapter 2
Cooper was shocked by the sight of Annabelle lying in that hospital bed. Her usually flawless skin was pale and her face was half-covered in bandages. Her silky, golden locks hung matted and limp on the pillow. Her luscious lips had quivered as she’d invited him into her room.
She looked him over with the one eye not covered in gauze. Maybe she recognized him, maybe she didn’t. She’d drawn her brows together as if she was trying to figure out how she knew him, but she’d winced at the small movement.
He wondered, not for the first time, if coming here had been a mistake. The girls needed to see their mother, but if he was so shaken by her appearance, he worried they would be even more freaked out. Still, they’d driven all this way, just under the speed limit, and he’d kept glancing back wondering if he’d strapped them into their booster seats correctly in the back of his Escalade.
The moment the girls stepped into her room, Annabelle’s face had transformed. A beauty no camera could capture lit her up at the sight of her daughters. Love. Pure and simple.
“Thank you for bringing them here to see me.” Annabelle reached for his arm, and just the slightest touch sent electricity through his entire body.
“No problem.” He shrugged. Just last week he’d turned down another invite for coffee or chai tea. He didn’t want to get involved, and yet he couldn’t just walk away.
“I don’t have anyone else to…” She glanced over at her daughters, who had moved off the bed and were entertaining each other on the couch. “We’re still pretty new in town, and I don’t have many friends here yet.”
“You’ve got me.” He’d spent the better part of the last year trying not to feel anything. Now he felt too much. Annabelle Jones was real. And she needed him.
“Yes. I’ve got you…” She glanced at her daughters again, then crooked a finger at him, inviting him to come closer.
He moved toward her, and she tugged on his arm, pulling him down so she could whisper in his ear.
“Who are you? I mean, I know you, but I don’t know how I know you.” He could tell she was disturbed by the lack of recognition.
“I’m your next-door neighbor,” he whispered back.
“Oh.” She closed her eye and sank into the pillow. After a slight shake of her head, she opened her eye and swept her gaze over him. “Are we, uh…”
“We’re friends.” He figured a little white lie was necessary here. Especially since he had her children with him.
“Friends.” She sighed. “Okay, that’s good.”
“Is there someone you want me to call? Your… husband?”
“No. Not him. He’s…” She brought her right hand up to her forehead, as if pressing on it could stimulate her memory. “We’re no longer married.”
“Still, he might want to know you’ve been in an accident.” Not that Cooper wanted to be the one to tell him.
“No. He wouldn’t. That I’m sure of.” She shook her head hard enough to make her wince.
He leaned even closer, so there was no way the girls, who were giggling and squealing, could overhear. “Is there a reason you don’t want your ex-husband to know what’s happened to you? Is he violent? Abusive?”
His stomach clenched at the thought of that man hurting her or her daughters.
“No. No, that’s not…” She exhaled, briefly closing her eyes. “He’s not around. He’s…”
Her face contorted in pain…or confusion.
“Do you want me to get the nurse? Do you need something for the pain?”
“No. It’s just…foggy.” She rubbed her forehead. “Foggy…like San Francisco. No, he’s not there. He’s…oh, what’s that place? The sun sets on the wrong side of the beach.”
She drew a shape on the sheet, like a long finger.
“Florida? Is your ex-husband in Florida?” Of course he was. The hearing. Her ex-husband was testifying in the biggest steroid scandal in recent history. He’d been an investor, a silent partner who was now willing to spill his guts in an attempt to keep from losing his fortune.
“Yes. Florida.” She gave him a weak smile. “That’s the word I was looking for. It was there…but out of my reach. Like so many things. Just. Out. Of. Reach.”
She sank back against the pillow, exhausted by the effort. Annabelle had been in a serious car accident. She’d suffered a concussion and simple tasks were difficult for her. He’d had a concussion once, after being hit by a line drive. It had scared the crap out of him. One minute he felt fine, sitting in the clubhouse after the game, and the next, he couldn’t tie his shoe. The weirdest part was that he’d managed to tie one of them, but couldn’t for the life of him remember how he’d done it.
“Thank you for bringing the girls here. I’m sure you had much better things to do than hang out in a hospital with your neighbor.”
“Hopefully, they’ll release you soon.” He wondered if he should try to get some information. Maybe he could use his persuasive skills
at the nurses’ station. Once upon a time, he’d been pretty charming. But that was before he’d become a disgrace. Now he wasn’t sure that his status as a Major League ballplayer would get him an advantage, or get him kicked out of the hospital.
“I’m sorry to keep you waiting.” She closed her eyes, wincing once again. “But thank you for coming.”
“No problem.”
A quick knock on the door and the doctor entered the room.
“Ms. Jones, I’m Doctor De Rosa.” She gave a professional smile to Annabelle, but Cooper got the feeling he wasn’t welcome.
“Why don’t I take Sophie and Olivia to get something to eat?” That would give Annabelle privacy and give him something to do. Besides, he was hungry.
“There’s a cafeteria on this floor. Just go down the hall and to your left,” Dr. De Rosa said.
“Great. Thanks.” He turned to the girls. “Should we go check out the cafeteria?”
“Sure.” Sophie hopped off the sofa and was ready to go.
“Okay.” Olivia glanced at her mother as if she needed assurance it was okay to go off with him.
“Be good, girls.” Annabelle smiled and nodded her approval.
“Do you think they gave Mommy weird drugs to make her talk funny?” Sophie asked once they sat down in the nearly deserted cafeteria. The twins each ordered a slice of cheese pizza and Cooper grabbed a large salad with a grilled chicken breast.
“If they did give her medicine, it was to help her body heal.” Cooper wasn’t sure how to explain the difference between healing medicine and drugs that could wreck your life. “Sometimes medicine can have side effects. But it’s important to take them when the doctor tells you to. Only when the doctor tells you to.”
“Yeah. One time we had ear affections, and we had to take this disgusting medicine.” Sophie chattered away. “It tasted like pink poop.”
“Sophie!” Olivia was apparently offended by her sister’s strong language.
“So you’ve tasted pink poop?” He couldn’t help it. The kid was a hoot.
“No. Of course not, silly.” Sophie laughed, and the sound went straight to his chest. “Miss Ramirez tells us to write juicy sentences. Not boring I like cats, I don’t like medicine sentences.”
“Miss Ramirez?”
“She’s our teacher.” Olivia added with a starstruck note in her voice. “But I don’t think she’s really a teacher.”
“Oh really?” He suspected he was getting in over his head.
“I think she’s really a princess.” Olivia was breathless with awe. “She’s just pretending to be a teacher until her Prince Charming comes along.”
“And then she’ll go back to being a teacher when she gets a divorce.” Sophie joined in the conversation, but instead of romantic ideals, she had a more jaded take on things. “That’s why Mommy had to get a job. ’Cause she got divorced.”
Yep. Definitely in over his head.
“How come girls have to give up their job when they get married?” Sophie asked thoughtfully.
“They don’t. Some women choose to stay home with their babies. Maybe that’s why your mom quit modeling, so she could look after the two of you.” He really had no idea what motivated Annabelle to quit at the height of her career. For a guy who couldn’t figure out his own motivations at times, he wasn’t in any position to judge others.
“So now we’re big girls, she can be a model again?” Olivia asked.
“Sure, why not?” He shrugged. “Your mom can be anything she wants to be.”
“I want to be a princess when I grow up,” Olivia announced. “Or a teacher.”
“I don’t want to be a princess. I want to be a baseball player.” Sophie said with confidence. “Or maybe I’ll be an owner like Auntie Hunter.”
“Or like Daddy.” Olivia had a note of sadness in her voice. “Before he moved to Florida.”
Where the sun sets on the wrong side of the beach.
* * * *
“So how are you feeling?” Dr. De Rosa asked as she took Annabelle’s vitals.
“I want to go home.” She hated feeling trapped, dependent on others. “I just want to sleep in my own bed.”
“You’ve had a serious head injury.” The doctor didn’t need to remind her of that. She felt the dull thud every time she moved her head. “I’m going to ask you a few questions before we can release you.”
“What kind of questions?” Annabelle wasn’t feeling up to taking some kind of test. Especially if her release was dependent on getting the right answers.
The first few questions were straightforward. Her name, age, and occupation. She only stumbled a little on the occupation question. For a long time, she’d been nothing more than a wife and mother.
“I’m a model,” she finally answered. “Or at least, I was.”
She reached up to touch the bandage on her face. “How bad is it? I know it will leave a scar, but…”
It felt like her face was cut from her left temple to her jaw. That’s where it hurt the most. But she might have a smaller cut or two above her eyebrow and across her cheek.
“I won’t lie to you. It’s going to look pretty bad right now. There will be a lot of redness and swelling. You won’t look like yourself for a few days.” The doctor offered a sympathetic smile. “But you’ll improve steadily over the next several weeks.”
Annabelle wanted to see, but had a feeling she wouldn’t like what she saw.
“Let’s take a look, shall we?” The doctor pulled up a chair and started unwrapping the gauze around Annabelle’s head. “Not bad. It looks like a clean wound.”
“But it will leave a scar?”
“Yes, I’m afraid so.”
“That’s not going to help my modeling career.” Annabelle hated how disappointed she sounded. Almost whiney.
“Tell me about what happened today,” the doctor said as she applied a fresh bandage. This one was smaller, and it didn’t cover her eye. “What do you remember about the accident, and what you did earlier in the day?”
Annabelle recalled snippets of time. Sitting in a chair having her makeup done. Wardrobe changes. Bright lights and the clicks of the camera. A typical day as a model. She’d done her first Sports Illustrated issue when she was only nineteen. Had it been ten years already? Somehow today’s shoot had felt new and exciting, like the first time, only better. Her agent had set her up on a photo shoot with a small upscale boutique in Aurelia Beach. The ads would run in a regional magazine, distributed at restaurants, hotels, and businesses throughout Orange County, giving her plenty of exposure. She’d hoped it would be enough to re-launch her career.
She sank back against the pillow, trying to gather more details from the foggy corners of her mind.
“I was on my way to a photo shoot.” It was like that dream. The one where she was running in slow motion, only instead of her feet, it was her brain that felt stuck in quicksand. “No. I was on my way home. I had done my job and I was going to meet the school bus.”
“But you didn’t meet the bus?”
“No. I saw a flash out of the corner of my eye.” And then crunching metal. Broken glass. So much blood. “It must have been the car that hit me.”
Annabelle closed her eyes, hoping the picture would form in her mind. But she was tired. So tired.
“Can I go home?” she asked again, weary of the hospital. Of the questions that seemed much harder than they should be. “I just want to go home.”
“Do you have someone staying with you?” the doctor asked.
“My daughters live with me.” She sensed that wasn’t the right answer, but it was the honest one.
“I’m afraid I can’t release you unless you have a responsible adult who can keep an eye on you for the next twenty-four to forty-eight hours.”
“I can’t think of anyone who could stay with me.” If she was in San Francisco, she could call Hunter. No, she was still on her honeymoon. They would be comi
ng to Aurelia Beach in a few days on their way home.
“What about the man who is here to pick you up?”
“Cooper? He’s my neighbor.” And she couldn’t just ask him to stay overnight with her. Not when she was such a mess.
“He’ll need to stay with you. Next door isn’t close enough.”
“I couldn’t impose like that.” Especially since she wasn’t sure where they stood. He’d said they were friends, but there was something more between them. Something she couldn’t act on.
“Okay, then we’ll just admit you overnight.”
“No. Wait.” If she didn’t go home, who would watch her girls? If she couldn’t ask Cooper to babysit her, she certainly couldn’t ask him to look after her children. “I’m sure he’ll stay with me. I’ll ask him.”
Chapter 3
It was nearly nine o’clock by the time Annabelle had been cleared to go home—on one condition—he would have to stay with her overnight. How many times had he imagined spending the night with Annabelle Jones? But this wasn’t exactly the scenario that had fueled his fantasies.
It was a good thing he’d thought to bring her a change of clothes. Hers were ruined in the accident. Cooper thought he’d been practical in selecting a soft velvety yoga outfit for Annabelle. He figured she’d want to be comfortable. And he hadn’t wanted to spend too much time going through her wardrobe. It was bad enough he’d had to look in her underwear drawer, but since he didn’t possess the ability to teleport her clothing to the hospital for her, he’d had to pack by picking up her things and putting them in a suitcase. He’d thrown the first pair of underwear he found into a small duffel bag along with a tank top, some socks, and the light blue yoga pants with matching jacket.
He’d found a pair of slip-on walking shoes. It was the kind of outfit he’d seen on plenty of women in Target at eleven on a weekday. Casual, comfortable, and just right for running errands and grabbing coffee after their morning workout.
Making a Comeback Page 2
