Hold Me Until Morning

by Christina Phillips

  He found them a table in the shade of a cottonwood and instead of sitting opposite her, sat next to her. “We’re undercover, right?” he said, as he leaned in as though he was about to kiss her.

  Her stomach fluttered, even though he was just doing it for show. “That’s right,” she agreed.

  “So, if I do this…” He casually slid his arm around her shoulders. “You’re not going to knee me in the balls, are you?”

  She flattened her sweaty palms on her thighs and refused to peek where his balls resided. “Wouldn’t dream of it.” Shit, she sounded as though her throat was congested.

  A waitress came to their table and flipped open her notepad. “What can I get you?” Her gaze drifted past Paris and settled on Cooper. Her perfunctory smile brightened by about a hundred watts. Paris bit her lip to stop herself from giggling. Cooper appeared unaware of the interest he’d stirred.

  “What do you want, babe?” He offered her a wicked grin, daring her to respond in kind. She wanted to, but suppose the waitress recognized her voice? She slid the laminated menu across the table and jabbed her finger at the iced chocolate.

  Cooper gave their order. “Want anything to nibble on?” His voice dripped with false innocence. She shook her head and let out a relieved breath when the waitress finally sauntered away.

  “I don’t think we raised any suspicions.” He wound a length of her wig around his finger. She couldn’t feel a thing. Now, if only he was doing that to her real hair. She tried, without much conviction, to shove that thought aside.

  He’s only doing it for show. Right?

  “She wasn’t interested in me at all.” Since he was clearly comfortable with the whole playacting aspect of their outing, she shifted closer to him on the bench until their thighs touched. She’d have never guessed she was into masochism before, but why else was she torturing herself this way? “She couldn’t take her eyes off you, though.”

  Was it her imagination or did his hold around her shoulders tighten?

  “Jealous, babe?”

  She laughed, and then slapped her hand across her mouth. Since nobody glanced their way, she relaxed and patted his denim covered thigh in what she hoped was a condescending manner. Was that even possible?

  “I don’t get jealous, bunny.” God, his muscles were rock hard.

  He tugged her closer. That definitely wasn’t her imagination—and had she really left her hand on his thigh? Her fingers twitched, but she still didn’t move her hand. It wasn’t as though she was pushing boundaries. After all, her hand was nearer his knee than his balls.

  “Good. Nothing worse than a jealous girlfriend.”

  An earlier thought came back to haunt her, and she snatched her hand from his leg. “Do you have a girlfriend?”

  Despite having wondered about it, somehow she’d assumed he hadn’t. She had to remember that while Cooper might flirt like a pro, he hadn’t hit on her and had made it clear he had no intention of doing so. She’d put that down entirely to his friendship with Scott, but suppose there was more to it than that?

  It was annoying that the idea of him having a girlfriend kind of pissed her off.

  “Me?” He laughed as though she’d just cracked a joke. “Not likely. Who’d want to take me on?”

  Paris ignored the warm glow that surged through her at the knowledge he wasn’t seeing anyone special. It made no difference at all.

  Much.

  “Looking for compliments?” She very nearly mauled his thigh again, but managed to resist. “Don’t tell me you live the life of a monk. I bet you have girls dying to be your one and only.”

  His fingers dropped from her wig and idly caressed her shoulder through the short-sleeved shirt she was wearing. It was crazy the way he made her feel. She couldn’t remember being this wired—even the first time she’d met Hudson.

  “Not once they get to know me.” His lazy grin did something wet and wonderful way down low, but there was an odd tension in his words.

  “You’re that bad, huh?” There was a husky note in her voice. God help her.

  “I’ve had my moments.”

  Without warning she was plunged into the past, to before her mom had uprooted her and Scott from everything and everyone they’d ever known. Her mom had hated the way Scott hung out with Cooper and flatly forbade her to go anywhere near any of those Grayson boys, who were nothing but trouble.

  Paris knew, some time when she was ten, Cooper had ended up in the ER, though it was a couple of years later before she understood the reason why. Not that she saw why her mom felt vindicated in trying to keep Scott away from his best friend. How was it his fault that his father had beaten the crap out of him?

  There in the coffee shop, she couldn’t stop the shiver that raced over her arms. She’d never known her own dad, and while her mom drove her insane half the time, she would never raise a finger to hurt her.

  She couldn’t even begin to imagine how he must feel about his father. It was a wonder Cooper hadn’t ended up in jail or something. She had a terrible urge to ask him about that time, but she never would.

  It was a relief when the waitress brought their order, along with another dazzling smile in Cooper’s direction. It was kind of rude. For all the other girl knew, they might be involved. In fact, he still had his arm around her so that they would appear to be a couple.

  She was desperately tempted to run her fingers along his jaw and say something extremely nauseating before giving the waitress a triumphant smirk.

  Except if the waitress recognized her then all her plans for hiding away this week would sink. If it got out where she was, her mom was sure to hear about it.

  She really didn’t want to face her mom just yet.

  Gritting her teeth, she held her tongue. The waitress eventually sauntered off, swinging her butt in an entirely unnecessary way.

  “What about you?”

  She frowned at him. He was obviously continuing their conversation but she had no idea what he was referencing. “How do you mean?”

  “Boyfriend? Someone special? It’s only fair, I answered you.”

  For a couple of seconds Cooper didn’t think she was going to answer him. She might be dating some big Hollywood star. Although, if that were the case he had the feeling Scott might’ve mentioned it at some point. He’d certainly had a lot to say about the scumbag who’d broken Paris’s heart a couple of years back.

  “I’m not seeing anyone.” She took a long suck on her straw, and he had the sudden, gut-punching vision of her wrapping those pink lips around his dick.

  He shifted on the hard bench, but it didn’t ease his inconvenient erection. Dragging his mind from his pants, he focused on her answer.

  He found the fact she wasn’t seeing anyone hard to believe. “No one serious, you mean?” Then again, what did he know about getting serious? He ran a mile if a girl he’d slept with just wanted to hang out. Sex was never serious. He always made that clear upfront. That might make him shallow, but at least he owned it.

  She pulled the straw from her mouth in a long, slow slide, and then licked her lips. His thoughts instantly dived south again.

  “I have dates with guys,” she said, as she traced patterns on the battered timber table. “But that’s as far as it goes. It’s mostly for publicity.”

  “No secret lover the press doesn’t know about?”

  A smile tugged at her lips, and she turned to look at him. He wished she’d take those sunglasses off so he could see her gorgeous eyes.

  “Wouldn’t be a secret if I told you, would it?”

  He trailed his fingertips along the smooth skin of her arm and she gave a delicate shudder.

  She’s off-limits.

  But he still couldn’t pull his hand away.

  “So you’re not using this week as a time out from an intense relationship?” His brothers would piss themselves if they ever heard him using the word relationship. Neither of them thought he knew the meaning of the word.

  A pensive expressio
n flashed over her face, as though he’d hit a raw nerve. Did that mean she was seeing someone? He wasn’t sure why the thought rubbed him the wrong way.

  “If you must know…” She sounded reluctant to share, and focused on her drink, stabbing her straw through the swirl of cream. “I needed time away from my mom. And my bodyguard.”

  Scott had told him about her firing the bodyguard, but he didn’t know why.

  As for her mom, she had never sworn or shouted at him, and had always been unfailingly polite, but even as a kid he’d known he didn’t meet her high standards. She hadn’t liked the way he and Scott had always hung out together. She’d probably bust an artery if she knew who Paris was spending this week with.

  “Your mom can be kind of high maintenance.” How was that for diplomacy?

  Paris gave a snort of laughter. “You remember her, then?”

  “Hard to forget.”

  She let out a long sigh. “You can say that again. Don’t get me wrong. When we first started out she kept the sharks away when they thought she’d be a pushover. Ha! They soon learned the error of their ways.”

  He could imagine. Cora O’Connell was a prime example of a momager from hell.

  “So, you’re just slumming it this week as a break from your mom before you hit the high life again?”

  The way her lips thinned told him she didn’t think much of his remark.

  “No, actually.” She sounded irritated. “I’m considering my options.”

  He took a long swallow of his iced coffee and casually glanced around. No one appeared to be taking undue notice of them—although he didn’t like the look of the guy lounging by the corner of the coffee shop. Not that there was anything especially suspicious about him, or the way he was drinking his coffee and scrolling through his cell.

  He turned back to Paris. “What options? Do they give you options on what happens in the soap?”

  She spluttered into her drink. “Yeah, right.” Then she looked at him, and he was certain if she wasn’t wearing the huge shades, and her bangs didn’t cover her forehead, he’d see her frowning big time. “That would be a no, Cooper.”

  He shrugged and managed not to grin, since he didn’t think his amusement would go down well. Trouble was, she was so damn cute when she was pissed off.

  “So, your options are state secrets that you can’t reveal.” This time he couldn’t stop the grin, and after a moment where she glared at him, she finally let out a huff and shook her head.

  “It’s no big deal. I’m just thinking what direction I want”—she hesitated for a second—“my career to head in, that’s all.”

  “Had enough of Sunset Heights?”

  “I’ve been on that show for over ten years.” He heard a thread of frustration in her voice, and she waved her arm in a dismissive gesture he recalled from years ago. From the corner of his eye he saw the guy he’d noticed earlier glance in their direction. “It’s time I looked at other things.”

  “I’m not arguing.” He picked up his glass and drained the contents while he gave the guy another once-over. He was back to reading on his cell.

  “I’ve had a couple of callbacks for a movie role.” There was an oddly defensive note in her voice, and at any other time he’d probe into that. But the guy with the cell was edging toward them in a decidedly furtive manner.

  With his arm still around her, Cooper cradled her face with his free hand. Damn, her skin was soft. She looked at him, her lips parted in obvious astonishment, and it was hard to remember the only reason he was here was because he had a job to do.

  He leaned in close. Her uneven breath was distracting. He swallowed, and his lips brushed hers. “Keep looking at me.”

  “What?” Her whisper branded his lips. He grazed her cheek with his jaw and found her ear, half hidden beneath that damn wig.

  “Don’t turn around. Focus on me. I think we have a tail.”

  She went rigid—but she didn’t turn around. “What are you going to do?”

  He pulled her to her feet and tucked her against his side, shielding her from Cell Man. “Get you out of here.”

  Chapter Five

  Paris smothered the flare of resentment that, yet again, her personal life was being invaded. It didn’t do any good. Why couldn’t she just enjoy some downtime without being hounded?

  Head down, she let Cooper take the lead. So much for her week of anonymity. She steeled her nerves for the inevitable confrontation between Cooper and whoever had been trying to sneak a photo of her.

  No chance of keeping things under the radar now. He might stop the one suspicious person with some heavy threats, but he couldn’t keep everyone else from taking photos on their cells.

  It happened every time.

  He strolled with apparent nonchalance toward the street. He didn’t seem to be at the point of shoving her behind his back while he did a macho bodyguard face-off thing.

  She edged closer to him, and his body heat sent whirlpools of sensation through her. It was hard to remember what she wanted to ask him.

  “Where are we going?” It was a breathy whisper as she scanned the area in front of them. She couldn’t see any suspicious activity, and she was pretty paranoid when it came to suspicious activity.

  “For a ride.” He slung her a bone-melting smile, but she had the feeling that behind those shades he was looking over her shoulder.

  She squashed the urge to glance back to see who he was looking at. The strangest thought had occurred to her.

  “You mean you’re not going to tell them to back off?”

  This time when he looked at her she knew his entire attention really was on her. “I thought you didn’t want to draw attention to yourself.”

  “Well, no.” Flustered by his reaction, and not quite sure why, she focused on his bike as they crossed the lot. “But I mean, that’s your job. To confront them and tell them where they can shove their cameras.”

  She felt his big body shake in silent laughter. “Yeah, and then the whole town would know you’re here. This way there’s only the possibility that one sleazy guy suspects.”

  Paris watched him unlock the helmets from his bike. She was still trying to grapple with his reasoning, which so closely mirrored her own. “All my other bodyguards always confront them.” Her mom practically made it a requirement of the job. Let one paparazzo get away with it, and they’ll be swarming over you like flies.

  Which meant any incognito night out she planned invariably turned into a circus—and ended up with her photo splashed across gossip magazines.

  Instead of handing her the helmet, he slowly slid it over her head. “That’s not my M.O., Paris.”

  The way he said her name, all dark and sexy, turned her legs to jelly. He pulled on his own helmet, and his voice came through her earpiece.

  “He’s followed us. His bike isn’t any match for mine. Just climb on real slow, like you don’t give a shit.” With that, he mounted his Harley. She glanced over her shoulder and caught sight of a guy strolling after them. He looked vaguely familiar. She took a deep breath, flicked down her visor, and followed Cooper in getting on the bike.

  This time she wrapped her arms around his solid body. God, that felt good. She hardly even cared why they’d had to cut short their excursion, and that was a first. Usually by now she’d be freaking out inside, where no one could see, but that was because usually she’d be the center of attention, while her bodyguard flexed his muscles and acted like some kind of steroid enhanced Terminator.

  Before she could stop herself, she ran her palms over Cooper’s taut abs. She bet he didn’t owe anything to steroids. The Harley roared to life, and leashed power throbbed through her body, igniting her nerve endings and centering between her thighs.

  She swallowed her groan before he could hear it, and gripped him tighter as he took off in a rumble of thunder.

  “Hang on tight.” His smoky voice filled her head. “I’m going to lose this asshole.”

  Instead of the dull sense
of despair that once again she’d been easy prey for some louse, excitement zapped through her. She clung tight as he’d instructed, and embraced the sense of danger that vibrated all around.

  For an endless, exhilarating time, he raced along the mountain road. She knew, without him having to say, that they were definitely being followed. Awe threaded through her. She hadn’t noticed anything while they’d been at the café. Usually she was hypersensitive about being watched. It seemed that being with Cooper was playing havoc with more than just her hormones.

  Without warning he swerved off the road onto a rough trail, and she gasped soundlessly as the forest swallowed them. Was this even legal? She had no idea. Cooper wouldn’t care.

  They went deeper, until even the trail vanished. Trees loomed overhead and sunlight filtered through the green canopy, giving everything a surreal glow—and still he wove through the forest as though he knew exactly where he was going.

  She didn’t care where he was taking her. Beneath her hand his heart thudded. They were both fully clothed, and yet she felt closer to him than she had with Hudson the handful of times they had been naked.

  She didn’t want the ride to ever end.

  And then he skidded to a stop, and she clutched his chest. Before them, a picture perfect creek swirled around boulders, creating sparkling rapids and glinting pools. Sycamores and alders dotted the shoreline, casting mystical shadows across the water. It looked like something from a fantasy movie.

  “We should be safe here.” Cooper’s voice broke her reverie. “You okay?”

  Okay didn’t cover it. She was having trouble breathing, as though she’d just run a marathon. “Yeah, I’m great.”

  For a few seconds she just sat there with her arms around him, hardly daring to move in case it broke this magical spell.

  Finally he stirred, and with reluctance she unhooked her fingers from his T-shirt so he could dismount. He offered her his arm, and instead of pushing him aside, she held onto him as he helped her off the bike. Just as well, really. Her legs were wobbling like crazy.

  He pulled off his gloves and helmet, and then, without asking, he unstrapped hers. His fingers brushed against her throat, and she held her breath in the vain hope that would slow her erratic heartbeat.