by Leah Vale
"Because you deserve it." He turned away.
Stunned that he clearly did care, and afraid he was going to walk away yet again before she could reach him, she lifted a staying hand. "Cooper, I--"
He looked back down at her, his expression set, but there was need in his deep blue eyes. "Come on, let’s dance." He took her hand in his and gently tugged.
She drew in her chin as he pulled her from the booth. "Dance? You want to dance? Now?" Thrown off balance by his sudden switch of focus, she glanced at the silent jukebox and the empty dance floor, then at the full tables in front of the big screen. "The game’s still on. Nobody’s going to want music blaring when they’re trying to watch the game."
Plus, the thought of being that close to him when her heart ached for him terrified her. The urge to hold him, to convince him he wasn’t alone, was too strong right now.
"As long as it’s not the play-offs, which I told you before it’s not, no one cares. It’s what that space is there for. Come on." He led her to the small parquet dance floor, his grip warm and unbearably sensual.
Pushing a hand into his front jeans pocket and pulling out change, he drew her with him as he went to the jukebox. He fed quarters into the machine and brought it to life. Red, yellow and orange lights chased across the front as Cooper made his selection, her hand still held tightly in his.
The music started. A ballad by Aerosmith, startling not only because it wasn’t a country-western song, but it was also one of her favorites. When he stepped in front of her and raised the hand he held, slipping his other hand to rest on the small of her back, Sara discovered just how malleable she really was. She couldn’t resist the rhythm of the music any more than she could resist Cooper’s appeal, or her sympathy for what drove him.
She understood. She cared.
But what frightened her most was how her heart pounded until her ribs felt like a battered shore and her blood surged as if she’d just come alive. Being this close to Cooper, with him gripping her hand and the heat of his touch on the small of her back, slashed through the bonds she’d held herself so tightly with for too long. She ached for Cooper to envelop her, wrap her in his strength.
She still wanted him.
But his need for an emotional connection threatened her.
She tried to rationalize that by soothing that need, she’d be solving the problem he posed to the family. Heaven help her, Joseph’s party was less than forty-eight hours away, and she wanted him to be able to welcome this particular grandson formally into the family without risk of betrayal.
Deep down, though, she knew it was just because she wanted Cooper.
Suddenly, she didn’t care about whatever game Cooper might be playing with her, whatever tack he might be taking to get her to stop interfering. She was tired of simply wondering what it would feel like to be with him. She wanted the reality of it.
At least for tonight.
He swayed with her, his hard thighs and flat stomach brushing against her, making her all too aware of what lay in between. His hand flexed and pressed her against him. They were now hip to hip, or as close as their difference in height would allow. His jeans were snug, and to maintain equilibrium she told herself the hard ridge of his button fly was what she was feeling.
The urge to rise up on tiptoe and improve the fit gripped her like a madness. His muscled chest against her breasts added to the torment. Afraid he would see in her eyes how desperate she was for him, she settled her forehead on his shoulder.
He put his cheek against her head. "This feels good. Really good."
"Too good," she groaned.
His chest expanded with a deep breath. She waited for the self-satisfied chuckle. It didn’t come. He simply said, "Probably." He tightened his hold, his fingers kneading her back.
She drew in his musky, masculine smell, and her body responded with stunning desire for him. Every inch of her tightened, then pulsed with want. She dared
admitting, "But it feels right, too."
"It does." His tone held far less hesitation than hers had.
"Does it have to end?"
He pulled away enough that she was forced to look up at him. There was more than questioning in his expression. Definitely concern, maybe a touch of fear.
She rushed to reassure him. "Just for tonight, Cooper. Only tonight."
He quirked an eyebrow. "You honestly think one night with you would be enough?"
The compliment simultaneously flattered and disconcerted her. "l honestly don’t know what to think."
He exhaled unevenly. "Then don’t. He slipped his hand from hers and cradled her cheek. "How about if neither one of us thinks about a damn thing. Other than how good this feels."
She put a hand on his lean hip and squeezed. "Then you’d better take me home, Cooper. Now."
He stilled, his gaze intense on hers. "And leave you?"
"Only if you have a death wish."
His grin radiated his relief and touched a place in her heart that was fast becoming his alone. "That’s one thing I don’t have, Ms. Barnes."
He took her hand and led her off the dance floor, pausing at their table long enough to drop off a wad of bills, certainly more than enough to pay for their meal and leave a generous tip. His grip on her hand still strong, he headed for the door.
Vic called to them to have a good evening, but Cooper acknowledged her with barely a wave. His haste thrilled Sara and terrified her all at the same time.
Not because she feared what he’d do to her, but because she was afraid of how badly she’d handle it when the one night was over.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
JUST GO WITH IT. JUST GO WITH IT, Cooper kept telling himself as he drove through the dark on the way back to the McCoy estate. His intent had always been to distract her, to keep her thinking about something besides what he was up to at work. She certainly appeared distracted, but by more than anticipation of a night of fun. She wanted more from him than any other woman ever had.
He glanced at her, at the way she sat angled toward him as much as the captain’s seats in his truck would allow, her hand resting on the console between them. Her posture announced she was there for him if he needed her. Accessible. Both physically and emotionally. A combination no one else had ever tried to give him. Because he wouldn’t allow it.
Sara really seemed to think she could handle the weight of his emotional burdens. No matter how tempting, he couldn’t burden her so. Not while she already carried the weight of the debt she believed she owed the McCoys.
But what would it cost him to let her think she was doing something for him? Especially when he’d be giving her the kind of physical homage a woman like her deserved?
Just a huge chunk of his soul, that was all. But since he didn’t seem to have any other use for it, why the hell not? She already knew what he thought about love’s malodorous qualities, so he wouldn’t be leading her on. Sara was a big girl with her eyes wide open.
So he would just go with it. Take what she offered and give as much as he could in return. Which pretty much equaled nothing more than a simple physical connection.
Then pray she understood when it didn’t change a thing.
With that dark thought, he took his own advice and stopped thinking. He placed his free hand over hers and interlocked their fingers.
Out of the comer of his eye he saw her looking at him. He glanced away from the road at her and found the truck’s dim interior lights shimmering off the hint of uncertainty in her eyes. To reassure her, he brought her hand to his mouth and kissed it. Her lips parted and he heard her swift intake of breath.
His body went straight into overdrive. Fine. So he flat-out had the hots for her. He’d wanted to get it on with Ms. Sara Barnes from the second he’d seen her.
He pulled her toward him and met her halfway for a quick but intense kiss.
They nearly ended up in the ditch.
The bump of his truck’s right tires leaving the pavement and the grind of gravel j
erked his attention back to the fact that he was supposed to be driving. He’d never had trouble staying on the road previously, no matter what distraction sat in his passenger seat. He shoved the implication aside.
Sara pulled back and gripped the dash with her free hand, her laughter shaky. "l figured you’d be a wild ride, Cooper, but I’m not sure about going off road right now."
He raised his brows. "So you thought I’d be a wild ride? I have a sneaking suspicion you don’t know the meaning of the word, sweetheart." He risked another look away from the road at her. "I promise not to take you anywhere you don’t want to go."
"Oh, I don’t doubt that, Cooper."
Her smile was all smug confidence. He chafed at her thinking she knew him so well. And trusted him. He wasn’t what she kept insisting he was. He’d never set out to be an honorable man.
He clenched his jaw and made the turn onto the McCoy private drive. The transmitter they’d installed on his truck the first day automatically opened the low, but no-less-excluding, metal gate fashioned to look like the proverbial white picket fence. How was that for deceiving appearances?
His headlights reflected off the high white fence lining the drive that kept Alexander’s expensive horses contained on one side and anyone heading to The Big House on the other. As the truck neared the mansion, the brighter-than-normal exterior lights glinted off a row of white vans and delivery trucks parked on the sides of the circular drive, blackening his mood further.
He glanced at his watch. Despite its being nearly ten o’clock at night and only Tuesday, preparation for Joseph’s seventy-fifth birthday bash on Thursday had begun. How a guy like him had missed being born on the nation’s birthday by a day was beyond Cooper.
"Isn’t it kinda late--or actually, early--for them to be setting up for Joe’s party?"
"Even though Joseph is still in mourning for Marcus, or maybe because of it, he’s pulling out all the stops for this party, so there’s an awful lot of setting up to do." She said it as though he should have realized it.
He did, since from what Cooper could tell, Joseph never did anything halfway. "Doesn’t he realize he’s not supposed to plan his own birthday party?"
"I think he considers this party to be about more than his turning seventy-five."
Cooper grunted at her gentle reminder. "Ah, yes, a coming-out party for me and the boys." The old man had made it clear he thought Cooper’s presence and blatant devotion, as well as that of any of the other Lost Millionaires, were his greatest gift of all. All the sentimentality was enough to give Cooper cavities.
One of the vans pulled out of its spot behind a delivery truck to leave, so Cooper drove off the pavement onto the grass to let it go by. Then he noticed the television satellite folded down on its roof. As the van passed, he saw that the entire side of the van was consumed by the Entertainment This Evening logo. His pulse picked up, but he forced himself not to jump to conclusions. He turned to Sara in time to see her, too, watching the van go by.
Her gaze met his, but they were still too far from the house’s lights for him to tell if fear or surprise widened her eyes. Finally, she said, "Joseph decided to grant them an exclusive to the party to keep them from trying to see what’s going on from a helicopter or something."
Disappointment mingled with relief that she hadn’t thought him responsible for the van’s presence. "Meaning, so he can control what’s reported."
"Yes."
He appreciated her straight talk. Thinking of what needed to be controlled, he asked, "Have any of Hound Dog’s other scattered progeny been dragged home yet?"
·
Cooper had done his best to avoid Alex, the only progeny he had thus far had contact with, shutting down any burgeoning connection he felt. Alex’s own struggles with the realities of his existence had helped minimize their contact.
"I’m not sure. Joseph has someone specifically assigned to get each of the other two we know about here in time for the party, but--"
"But you’ve been too busy with your own assignment to notice much else?" He said it lightly enough, is attention on pulling back onto the drive, but a touch of anger sneaked through. He hated being thought of as an assignment.
"You haven't given me much choice." No venom, just regret in her tone.
His own regret flaring, he glanced at her again. "You always have a choice, Sara."
"Yes, I do." She leaned toward him again. "And I’ve chosen this, Cooper." She kissed an extremely sensitive spot below his ear.
He shuddered with pleasure. As he turned onto the fake cobblestone drive that led to the carriage house, his gaze darted again to the white vans and trucks with Dependable Catering emblazoned on the side in dark letters. The first of the sound equipment, white tables and chairs and other party necessities were being unloaded.
Was Sara’s sudden need to get it on with him a last-ditch effort to fulfill her "assignment"? Did she think a little nookie would be enough to tempt him from the dark side?
And why should he care if she did?
He knew sleeping with her certainly wouldn’t change his mind about the McCoys, and he’d never been one to turn his back on something so freely given. Especially when that something looked and felt and smelled like Sara. Luscious curves, silky skin and hair, and a mouthwatering cinnamon taste to her lips. Just because he admired her determination, drive, rabid commitment and capacity to care wasn’t reason enough to walk away from her the way he had in St. Louis.
She’d made it more than clear that she didn’t want him to. At least for tonight.
He parked at the carriage-house stairs, where he had earlier, and got out. She waited in the truck for him to open her door, seeming to reaffirm their roles.
Woman. Man.
He opened the passenger door and was rewarded with a beautiful smile that was shy but still somehow managed to be full of sensual promise.
Hell, she was more than a woman. She was a gift. And he was a selfish jerk grabbing for all he could before he torched their connection. Before he could figure out a way to successfully betray her and what she held dear.
He was about to take his role of bastard to a whole other level.
His normally silent conscience threw a yellow flag and cried foul. But to paraphrase the sage words of Popeye, he was what he was.
After she grabbed her purse from the floorboard, he took her elegant, slender hand, anyway, and helped her from the truck. She brushed her breasts against his chest on her way by. Maybe she wasn’t so shy after all.
She kept hold of his hand and barely gave him time to shut the truck door before pulling him up the stairs. Man, when Sara decided to do something, she did it whole hog. But he already knew that about her. And liked it a lot.
She drew him close when she stopped in front of her door before she released his hand to dig her keys out of her purse. An unnecessary reminder of how incredible she felt pressed against him.
Sara was such an amazing woman she deserved so much more emotionally than what he was capable of. All his earlier rationalizations fell apart. For only the second time in his life, both times with her, his conscience won out over his need for rebellion and sexual gratification.
He took her face in his hands and tilted it up so she’d have to look at him. Unfortunately, either her porch light was on a timer or she’d flipped it on when they’d left. He could plainly see all the yearning and desire in her bright green eyes. His throat tightened, but he forced out, "Sara."
She parted her tempting lips, clearly expecting a kiss, but something in his expression must have given him away, because her brows came together. "What? What is it, Cooper?"
Being the moral weakling he was, he did kiss her. Gently. Reverently. But when she dropped her purse on top of their feet, moaned and opened her mouth beneath his, he deepened the kiss, claiming her tongue, her breath, and giving back every ounce of his regret.
She pulled away, starved for air. "Boy, am I glad you’re not trying the noble routine with me to
night."
Boy, was she going to be ticked. There was no helping it. Searching for the right words, he ran his thumb over her luscious wet lips.
Her eyes widened. "No. No, Cooper. You’re not doing this to me again."
"I have to, Sara. I can live with a lot of things, but I couldn’t live with this. Because you still don’t understand."
"But I do--"
He kissed her once more, hard, then practically ran down the steps.
"Cooper Anders! You coward!"
He paused before climbing into his truck. "You mean bastard." He was what he was. And if he didn’t get out of there quick, he’d stay.
He got into his truck and slammed the door on any reply she might have made. Without looking her way, he backed up, turned his truck around and headed down the cobbled lane. But the last place he wanted to retreat to was the McCoy family home, so he drove toward the main road. Good thing he hadn’t decided to take his role of grateful grandson as far as getting rid of his old place.
