The Rebel (The Millionaire Malones Book 3)

by Victoria Purman

  The Rebel

  A Millionaire Malones Romance

  Victoria Purman

  The Rebel

  Copyright © 2015 Victoria Purman

  EPUB Edition

  The Tule Publishing Group, LLC

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  ISBN: 978-1-943963-03-4

  Dedication

  To my wild, wonderful and wicked friends. You know who you all are.

  Table of Contents

  Cover

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Epilogue

  The Malone Millionaires Series

  About the Author

  Chapter One

  ‡

  There were voices penetrating the thick fog in Cooper Malone’s head. Like he was underwater and someone above the water line was calling to him, attempting to get his attention. He tried to wake up but couldn’t. There was a dead weight in his head and the voices weren’t making any sense; they were just slurred and fuzzy snatches of a language that sounded foreign to him. There was beeping too, a repetitive sound like the warning from a reversing truck, and something cool and crisp under his fingers. And when he tried to open his eyes, the bright, bright lights stung. Something on his left leg was heavy and tight. His tongue felt thick and when he tried to speak, he couldn’t seem to make the words come out in the right order. Or the right language. Everything felt like slow motion. His heart was beating loud in his ears and something hurt real bad.

  When he tried to move, he felt it. Something hurt like hell. Something other than his head. Where was he? What the hell was going on? Memories came back to him, slow and fragmented. He’d been walking down the sandy pathway under the train track to Trestles, his surfboard under his arm, the E on his left and the S on his right, the letters on the concrete pillars spelling out the name of the beach he’d grown to love.

  Last thing he remembered he was in San Clemente, on his board, with the bright morning light in his eyes and the warmth of the Southern Californian sun on his back as he paddled, and the Pacific Ocean’s waves rolling over him. It was his one link to home, that ocean. He’d grown up surfing it from the other side of the Pacific, halfway across the world, on Sydney’s beaches.

  But he wasn’t in Australia now.

  Cooper closed his eyes and gave in to the fog, let it thicken all around him, allowed it to seep into his mouth and down into his lungs and to every limb and then he was back in never-never land.

  *

  Maggie MacLean stood at the side of Cooper’s hospital bed, arms crossed, trying not to imagine the worst. The most infuriating man she’d ever met lay flat on his back, doped up to the eyeballs, and was sporting a hospital gown that was way too small. He looked even more tanned than usual against the white of the sheets, and his out-of-control blond hair looked like he’d been in a wind tunnel. Those blue eyes of his – usually teasing but now unfocused and confused – had fluttered shut and his head had dropped to the side. Right under his hairline, above his left eye, she could make out his scar, gouged when he’d been hit by a fin on his first surfboard when he was twelve. He loved to tell her son, Evan, that story, embellishing it with buckets of blood and a trip in an ambulance. She glanced down to the end of the bed and, yes, one ankle at the end of a long, long leg was dangling over the side. The other was raised on a bed of pillows and covered with a sheet.

  The big, infuriating man roused, squinted and then his cheek hit the pillow again.

  ‘Cooper, you damn fool,’ Maggie said softly, glad he was semi-conscious so he wouldn’t see her tears and the shuddering in her shoulders as she watched him. ‘You awake?’

  ‘Ess …,’ he muttered.

  She leaned closer. ‘What was that?’

  ‘Eeee …’ Then his eyes drifted closed again, and he began to breathe deeply.

  S? E? Essie? How perfectly appropriate that Cooper Malone should be just hours out of surgery and already whispering some woman’s name. Knowing him, he’d probably been trying to impress some beach bunny or other when he’d done something stupid and hurt himself out on the waves at one of San Clemente’s iconic beaches.

  There were always women around Cooper Malone, the pro surfer, Australian larrikin and her long-time friend. Or ‘mate’ as he always liked to describe her.

  Mates or not, she still wanted to kill him. If he were awake right now, instead of sleeping off the anaesthetic, what would she be saying to him?

  You’re such an idiot.

  Don’t you know better?

  What were you thinking?

  So you think you’re Superman or something?

  Maggie squeezed her fingers together in a knot and allowed herself to exhale. At least if he was asleep he wouldn’t be feeling any pain. Not that she didn’t want him to hurt. Oh, hell yeah, she did. She wanted him to feel every bit of pain from wilfully disobeying his doctor’s instructions and getting on that stupid board of his when he’d been specifically and repeatedly told not to. He’d winked at her across her kitchen table and grinned, saying ‘I’ll be fine. I’m an Aussie. We’re tough as kangaroo hide.’

  A tall, white-coated doctor appeared at the doorway to Cooper’s hospital room, a polite smile on her face. ‘Oh, hello. How’s our patient?’

  ‘Hello,’ Maggie replied, stepping away from Cooper’s bed and pressing herself against the wall, her hands tucked behind her back. ‘Still sleeping.’

  The doctor pulled a chart from the basket at the end of the bed and flipped the front page over, studying it with a frown.

  ‘So, how did it go—the operation?’ Maggie asked.

  The doctor politely eyed her up and down. With Maggie, there wasn’t much of an up and down. It didn’t take long to peruse five foot nothing.

  ‘And you are?’

  Maggie cleared her throat. ‘I’m a friend of Cooper’s.’

  ‘I’m sorry. I can only discuss his condition with family members.’ The doctor considered Maggie. ‘Are you a friend or a friend friend?’

  Maggie shook her head. ‘Just friends.’

  ‘Right.’ Doctor Tall was trying not to smirk. Most people Maggie knew didn’t buy the ‘just friends’ line either, but it was the truth. She could read it in people’s eyes: was there a woman on earth who could be ‘just friends’ with the sexy and successful surfer, Cooper Malone? Yes there was: Maggie was living proof.

  ‘The thing is,’ Maggie began, trying to sound serious enough to prove her point, ‘His family is back in Australia. He has two brothers in Sydney who are waiting for me to tell them what’s going on, since clearly he’s in no position to ring them.’

  Cooper began to snore. Both women glanced at him.

  ‘Mmm,’ Doctor Tall murmured.

  ‘If you can just tell me something that I can tell his
brothers, I’m sure they’ll appreciate it.’ Maggie was worried now about the frown on the doctor’s face, which hadn’t disappeared yet. ‘He will be home in a couple of days, right?’

  The doctor considered her response. ‘Tell his family he’ll be needing rest and then some intensive physical therapy. And he’ll have to stay off that knee.’

  ‘Cooper? Stay off that knee?’

  ‘Yes,’ the doctor confirmed.

  ‘For how long?’

  ‘That’s something I’ll have to discuss with Cooper.’

  Maggie chuckled and muttered half under her breath. ‘Good luck with that.’

  ‘We’ll be checking on him. And reading him the riot act if necessary. Don’t you worry,’ Doctor Tall said with a smile, at last.

  ‘Thank you,’ Maggie said as the doctor took one last glance at the sleeping patient and departed.

  Cooper Malone was always going to be trouble for someone and as she watched him sleeping, Maggie wondered how on earth it had turned out to be her.

  She checked the time. Her mother would be home with Evan about now, having swung into action and walked the two blocks when Maggie had called with the news that morning. She’d have to tell Evan the latest. He wouldn’t have been able to think of anything else during the school day, and getting him to concentrate on anything was a challenge, considering he had the energy and attention span of any other five-year-old boy. They’d both been woken that morning by an early phone call from Cooper’s manager and friend, informing them about his surfing accident.

  ‘What the—?’ Maggie had muttered into the phone, checking the time, still half asleep, and when Evan had appeared at her door in his Spiderman PJs, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, she’d held on to the swear word that was right on the tip of her tongue.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ Alfie had told her, his English accent sounding just like a young Michael Caine. It wasn’t actually his real name—it was Gerald—but once Cooper heard that voice, he’d dubbed him Alfie and the moniker had stuck.

  ‘If he’s in hospital, it’s serious. What’s he done now?’

  ‘Our boy has done that knee again and the medicos had to go in and do all sorts of ‘orrible stuff. Makes me queasy just thinking about it.’

  Maggie had sighed as she flopped back on the pillow. Evan had crawled up on to her bed, under the blankets, and snuggled beside her, one soft arm around her neck.

  ‘Who is it, Mommy?’ Evan’s whisper had been as loud as a shout and she’d smiled at how polite her little man was trying to be.

  ‘It’s Cooper’s friend, Alfie. Cooper’s in the hospital, sweetie.’

  Evan’s sleepy eyes had widened. ‘Is Cooper Cooper Cooper sick?’

  ‘No, he’s not sick like that. He hurt his knee. I’m sure the doctors and nurses will fix him and make him all better.’

  ‘Can we go see him? Can we?’

  ‘As soon as we can. I promise.’

  Evan had tucked up under Maggie’s arm and continued to whisper. ‘Was there blood?’

  ‘Good question. Alfie, was there blood?’

  Alfie had chuckled down the line. ‘I love your little bloke. He’s a little legend on his board. When he wants to go pro, make sure you come see me.’

  Maggie had gritted her teeth. ‘When you-know-what freezes over, Alfie. And just quietly, wasn’t it your job to keep Cooper out of the … away from the … oceanic environment?’

  ‘Good one, luv,’ he’d laughed boisterously. ‘I wish I had those magical powers that could keep Coop out of the water. You know he doesn’t listen to anyone.’

  Maggie knew it. When it came to Cooper Malone and the water, he was stubborn as a mule and slippery as a fish.

  Once she’d said her goodbyes to the still-sleeping Cooper and left the hospital, Maggie walked to her car and got in, dialling home before she started the engine. She knew Evan would be waiting for news.

  It was the understatement of the century to say that Evan idolised Cooper and, from Evan’s perspective, Maggie totally got it. Her son was only five years old and, to him, Cooper was like a gigantic superhero. Six four, wide shoulders, long and wavy blond surfer hair. Evan spent most of his time trying to get Cooper’s attention, craning his neck up to the sky and calling, ‘Cooper Cooper Cooper.’

  And, without fail, he would answer, ‘Yeah, mate? What’s up?’

  Cooper was like an uncle to Evan and the closest thing she had to a decent man in her life. Their friendship seemed as improbable as finding herself a single mother.

  Things like that didn’t happen to smart girls like Maggie MacLean, right?

  The call connected. ‘Is he okay, Mommy?’

  ‘Yeah, sweetie. He’s doing fine. He’s sleeping right now, which is the best thing when you’ve hurt yourself.’

  ‘Does he have a scar?’

  ‘It’s a bit hard to tell. His leg is all wrapped up in bandages.’

  ‘Matt from my class had his arm wrapped up in bandaids. It was a plaster cask. He broke it on a skateboard.’

  Maggie smiled. ‘Did he?’

  ‘Did you see the blood? Was there blood, Mommy?’

  ‘No blood.’

  ‘Oh.’ There was a pause. Maggie imagined her mom was standing right there next to Evan, her hands tucked into the back pockets of her jeans, listening to the conversation and smiling at her wonderful grandson. A large part of who he was was due to her mother. She’d been a rock since Evan was born.

  ‘Can you kiss it better for Cooper, Mommy?’

  ‘Of course I will,’ she lied. She had no interest in getting on the end of that very long line.

  There was silence and she could hear Evan murmuring. ‘Mmmm. What about a bandaid? I could stick it on for him. I could get him a Batman one.’

  ‘That is great thinking, Evan. What say I get some on the way home and you can give them to Cooper when he gets out of the hospital, huh?’

  ‘Okay, Mommy.’

  ‘Can you give the phone to Grandma, sweetie?’

  ‘Here she is.’

  The phone dropped with a clatter on the kitchen table and Maggie’s mom picked it up. ‘How is he, Maggie?’

  The tension of the day, of hearing about Cooper’s accident, of seeing him semi-conscious and connected to every machine the hospital had, exploded out of her. ‘If he doesn’t hurt now, he damn well will when he wakes up. What the hell was he thinking getting back on a board again with that knee? I want to strangle him, you know that, Mom?’

  ‘Stubborn as a mule. Apparently all Australians are.’

  Maggie huffed. ‘Only the ones I know.’ She checked her watch. ‘Can you see that Evan has a snack and stays away from the cartoons? I’ll pick up some things for dinner and be home soon.’

  *

  Maggie absentmindedly walked the aisles of her local grocery store, ambling along with the trolley in front of her. She didn’t need much but was taking her time, eyeing the displays, trying not to buy any chocolate. Instead, she chose bananas and dropped them into her supermarket trolley. She remembered the bandaids for Evan. Some apples. Fresh bread rolls. Chicken fillets, a lettuce and tomatoes. It looked like burger night tonight.

  It was nice to be out of the house, even if it was doing a household chore. Sometimes—no, a lot of the time—she felt housebound and confined. She hadn’t envisioned this for her life. Before she’d fallen pregnant, she’d been a traveller. A restless So-Cal gal with a rucksack and a passport, she’d hopped on a plane whenever she’d scraped up enough money from waitressing and cleaning jobs. She loved being a gypsy, never planning where she might venture next. First it was Morocco via Paris, with side trips to Croatia and Spain thrown in; and then New Zealand, where she met a couple of Tolkien fans who were flying to the land of the long white cloud determined to throw their wedding rings into Mount Doom. When she was fruit picking in the South Australian Riverland one Down Under summer, she’d met a wild Irish girl named Marion and they’d travelled together to the Indonesian island of Bali. That’
s where she’d first met Cooper. In a dingy bar in the main tourist strip in Kuta, she and Marion had braved the crowds of drunken Australians and met two surfers. Cooper Malone and Vance Walton, brothers in arms and brothers on the waves. The striking blond-haired tanned athletes had just returned to the tourist town after surfing in Uluwatu. Vance had looked across at her, grinned, and said ‘G’day.’

  Maggie’s life had been linked to both men ever since.

  She hadn’t travelled since Bali. That gypsy soul was now a sensible accountant who worked from home. It was a long way from her old life, but she’d made it work for her and Evan. She took him to school, and then worked in her office, the third bedroom at the front of the house, which overlooked her quiet street, until it was time to pick him up. Sometimes she worked at night, after Evan had gone to bed. Her mom was close, in the home Maggie had grown up in, which was a blessing for emergencies like today.

  It had been the two of them—her and Evan—since he was born. When she’d finally tracked Vance down in South Africa and told him she was pregnant and that she was keeping the baby, he’d made it perfectly clear that fatherhood wasn’t his bag. ‘I’m trying to break into the professional circuit, babe. I can’t be tied down like that.’

  In her heart she’d known Vance wasn’t a long-term bet. She’d known it that first night, when he’d slipped an arm around her but kept an eye on her friend Marion, whose Irish eyes and Dublin brogue were as compelling as her long red hair and her curves. She wasn’t that upset, because Cooper was handsome and so tall, and had looked at her with a glint in his eye that she imagined was flirting. But he’d disappeared with Marion not long after their first drink, and the gypsy in Maggie decided she didn’t care about being anyone’s second choice. She was young and adventurous and this was only going to be for a few days of fun—maybe a week—in the heady tropical heat of Bali, and Vance was too gorgeous to refuse.

  When Maggie realised she was pregnant, on the way to Vietnam, she turned around and went home to California. Her travelling days stopped and her sensible life had begun.