Return to Me (The Aphrodite Chronicles Book 1)

by LM Spangler

  “What’s got a burr in your ass?” the guard asked as he laid the wand back into its holder, which was sitting atop the security desk.

  Coop exhaled deeply. “The bitch in question and a blast from the past.”

  Smythe smirked. “I’ll let you to it.”

  Coop thanked Smythe as he spun toward the bank of elevators. He pressed the “up” button and waited for the car to descend. The stainless steel doors opened with a bing. Stepping through the threshold, he hit the button for the third floor. He checked his reflection in the mirrored panels gracing the walls. The ride seemed to take longer than normal, which annoyed the hell out of him. His foot tapped impatiently on the carpeted floor.

  The doors opened again, and Coop darted from the car to the judge’s chambers. His long, ground-eating strides took him to his destination in under a minute.

  Coop didn’t bother to knock. He simply swung the door open and strode into the room. Sitting behind a large, ornately carved desk was Judge Hawker. Her gray hair haloed her head in a tidy mass of curls. Lines deeply etched her haggard face, affirming she was a kick-ass bitch.

  She tapped her pen on her ink blotter. “So nice of you to join us, Mr. Martin.” Her voice cracked like an old Victrola record player.

  Coop’s gaze fell upon the female occupant sitting in one of two black leather armchairs. Long, golden-blonde hair cascaded over the back, beckoning him to run his fingers through the silken strands.

  Anger, both at his reaction to seeing her and the fact she was there in the first place, rose up like a leviathan from the deep. The muscles in his jaw tightened, and his lips formed a thin line.

  He walked in front of the woman. “Naida,” he greeted, through clenched teeth.

  Coop stared at her beautiful face. Naida’s kissable, full lips formed a soft, forced smile that her large, doe-shaped brown eyes didn’t reflect. A form-fitting, cream-colored sweater hugged her breasts and torso, doing little to hide her lithe figure. Her hands rested in her lap. Long, jean-clad legs crossed at the ankle. The brown of her high-end leather satchel matched her well-worn hiking boots.

  “Cooper,” she replied.

  He inhaled sharply through his nose, never breaking eye contact with her, and enunciated each of the words that followed very clearly. “Do. Not. Call. Me. Cooper.”

  ****

  Naida hadn’t meant to say it so sarcastically. It had just slipped out. A defense mechanism. A way to cover the instantaneous hurt that had rocketed like a missile to her heart.

  The other option had been picking her jaw off the ground. She hadn’t expected Coop to walk through the door.

  His stiff-shouldered stance emanated anger. And rightfully so.

  He had been wronged.

  By Naida herself.

  She ripped her gaze away from Coop and turned toward the bitch who had set her—no, us—up.

  Judge Hawker grinned, exposing age-worn teeth. The pack of cigarettes she smoked a day did little to detract from the look. “Do you have something to say, Miss Bouche?” Her voice grated Naida’s nerves and reminded her of gravel scraping over an asphalt road. The hag had the nerve to broaden her smile.

  Naida rose from the armchair with fists clenched at her sides, nails biting into the flesh of her palms. “Why is he here?”

  “Why are you here?” he retorted, his steel-gray glare darting from one female to the other and shooting daggers at same time. He shrugged out of his jacket and tossed it onto the empty armchair.

  One of those daggers pierced Naida’s heart, which thudded hard against her breastbone. How she hated Coop looking at her with such disdain. But she had brought it on herself.

  Three years ago, she had filed for divorce from Coop with no explanation why. Just up and went to an attorney. Had he done anything wrong? No. Had he begged and pleaded for an explanation? Yes.

  She had merely shrugged her shoulders and walked away.

  That action had taken her away from the one man, the one human, she’d ever loved.

  Naida hadn’t dated or engaged in sexual activity since. And that was highly against her nature.

  She faced the judge. “Surely you know,” Naida began, hedging the anger in her voice, which was something she had learned from years as an attorney. “That we were once married.”

  Judge Hawker leaned back against her plush office chair. “Of course, I do.”

  Coop marched to her desk, laid his palms heavily on the top, and leaned in. “Then, why are we here?”

  “Why else would I call you here? I’m assigning you both to a case that’s crossed my desk. You are court-appointed lawyers. I’m appointing you.” She cackled and sucked deep as her breath wheezed in and out of her lungs. “It’s good to be a judge.”

  Coop nearly sputtered. “You can’t be serious.” He pushed off the desk and paced. His grace and purposefulness screamed “panther.” Only a majestic creature like that could look beautiful and menacing at the same time.

  And she even knew some panthers.

  Think. Naida had to come up with an argument against this madness. She approached the justice. “Our attitudes toward one another could complicate the case. You wouldn’t want us to argue with each other instead of the prosecution.”

  Coop stopped pacing and stood by Naida’s side. He pointed a thumb in her direction. “Yeah. What she said.”

  “Tsk. Tsk. Are you both not professionals? You can’t handle one case together?” Judge Hawker asked, her gaze darting from one attorney to the other.

  Coop’s spine straightened. Anger flashed in the depth of his eyes. The judge had questioned his abilities. Naida knew from past experience that a knock to his ego threw him into a conniption fit.

  He sneered. “Of course, we can.”

  Naida placed her hands on her hips. She frowned. “There’s no need to question our professionalism, Judge Hawker.”

  The corner of the justice’s mouth lifted into a satisfied grin. “I thought so. Then, it’s decided. Sit and I’ll fill you in on the details of the case.”

  Naida glanced at Coop. His molten steel gaze was still fixed on the judge. Disdain painted his facial features, giving him an air of danger.

  And Naida wanted him.

  The sudden spike of desire flooded her. Her stomach fluttered, a thousand butterflies taking wing. By the gods! He still had the ability to turn her into a quivering puddle of need.

  Nothing had changed in three years.

  Except she was alone, and he seemed to be more … ornery?

  They spent the next two hours discussing the case of a woman, accused of murder, who swore she had committed the act in self-defense.

  To Naida’s surprise, the judge seemed sympathetic to the woman’s plight.

  The circumstances leading to the killing turned Naida’s stomach. The lady had been subjected to sexual abuse by a family member. For years. One day, she had finally reached her breaking point. As she was about to get abused again, she retaliated, striking the offender with a heavy, brass bookend. Blunt force trauma had been the cause of death.

  Some saw it as justifiable homicide.

  Others, mainly the victim’s family and the prosecutors, said the sexual relations had been consensual, that the girl liked rough sex. The family was influential. Had more money than half the banks in the United States. They had paid a high-powered attorney to paint her as a harlot. She had asked for it, they claimed. They saw him as the victim, not her.

  In other words, her family had thrown her under the bus, but she couldn’t afford an attorney.

  And now, she had Naida and Coop.

  Naida risked a sideways glance at him. His teeth were clenched. His anger was, temporarily, focused on the bastard who had abused their client, and not on the judge who had arranged to bring the divorced couple back together again.

  The meeting concluded. Judge Hawker—now back to being a heartless bitch—dismissed them as if they were children.

  They exited her chambers and into the empty hallway. Nai
da looked out the windows. Snow was falling in earnest, large snowflakes sticking to the ice-cold panes of the glass.

  Coop stopped in front of a drinking fountain, leaned down, and pushed the button. Water arched from the opening. The fluid danced as he attempted to sip. After several tries, he shrugged and turned toward the elevator. Naida stood rooted in place. Water always did that when she was close.

  He glanced over his shoulder and snorted as he slipped his jacket back on. “For Christ’s sake, Naida, I won’t bite.”

  Maybe I want you to. Whoa. Where’d that come from? Liquid heat flooded her core, making her clench her thighs together. Naida pushed imaginary strands of hair from her heated face. She prayed her cheeks weren’t tinted pink. “I know you won’t. It’s just … it’s just…”

  Coop marched over to her, dropped his briefcase, removed her trench coat from her grasp, and held it open. “We’re divorced. That’s the long and short of it. Yes, we haven’t seen each other in a long time, but that doesn’t mean we can’t act like two civilized adults. Get your coat on. We’ll share the ride down.”

  Naida lowered her gaze to the utilitarian gray carpeting, dinged from time and repeated foot traffic. He had just made her feel like a three-year-old.

  “Thank you,” she murmured as she slid her arms into the offered jacket. Chills raced over her skin as his fingers brushed the flesh of her neck. She knew that the move was by no means done on purpose or meant to entice. However, Coop had always had the ability to send her libido into overdrive with a simple touch.

  She’d have to keep the want, the need, at bay somehow. He had the capability to turn her into a sexual monster—to the point that she’d think of little else. With a deep breath, she turned to face him.

  He moved an actual errant strand of hair from her face this time, tucking it behind her ear, and brushed his finger over her lower lip. Damn it! She leaned into the touch. Her eyelids fluttered shut. She wanted him to kiss her. She hoped that he would kiss her. His eyes searched hers—asking, pleading.

  Suddenly, Coop dropped his hand as if it had been scorched.

  The enchanted moment had come and gone.

  He turned to the elevator and hit the “down” arrow.

  Naida stared at his leather-clad back while they waited for the car.

  Damn him. Damn me. Damn us.

  Hell, damn it all!

  The doors parted with a bing, and Coop stepped through the opening. Naida followed and stood in front of him, keeping her eyes facing forward.

  She stared at her reflection in the mirrored wall. Her cheeks were flush. Her pupils dilated. She was in the throes of full-on desire.

  Coop grinned when their gazes met.

  Damn it, again.

  He knew what she felt.

  And there wasn’t a damn thing she could do about it.

  Chapter Three

  Self-satisfied male smugness blasted the edge of abrading anger from Coop’s system.

  Damn, Naida’s still the most gorgeous woman I’ve ever seen. Tall, curvy, strong, and willowy.

  Coop had memorized every place on her body where a brush of his lips would elicit a moan, or make a chill race over her flesh. He could find every dip and valley that would make her quiver with need. His tongue could make her tremble with a lick or taste.

  “Shit,” he muttered, as his cock hardened against the seam of his zipper.

  Naida lifted her gaze and met his in the mirror. “Did you say something?”

  He tugged the hem of his bomber jacket over the front of his pants. “Nope. Didn’t say a word.”

  She stared at the floor again.

  Coop jammed his hands into his pockets and quickly adjusted his throbbing erection to a more comfortable position. Buried inside her, however, would be the most comfortable place to be.

  Images of removing their clothes, turning her against the wall, and entering her heated channel from behind had his heart hammering in his chest. Want and need pulsed through him. He closed his eyes and inhaled sharply through his nose, brutally trying to beat the beast clawing to claim her as his again.

  But she had once been his and chose to end it.

  Coop opened his eyes to find Naida staring at him.

  Damn!

  Her pupils were dilated, and her breaths were coming in short gasps. Something had sparked her desire. He could see it in her eyes, read it in the quick, repetitive rise and fall of her chest.

  Despite the chemistry threatening to ignite an inferno between them, she shook her head and murmured, “No,” over and over again.

  Coop opened his mouth to speak when the descending elevator car came to halt and jolted them about. The overhead light flashed on and off a few times before darkness engulfed them. Orange-hued emergency lights quickly flickered on, casting an eerie glow about the space.

  Naida’s arms flailed at her side in an attempt to gain her balance. The air whooshed out of his lungs when she lost the battle with gravity and slammed into his front, knocking him into the rear wall. His back sang in pain from the impact. He grunted as he lifted her into a standing position.

  “Are you okay?” he managed. He leaned forward, back, and then side-to-side in an attempt to loosen the protesting muscles. Pressing his hands into the base of his spine did little to alleviate the spasms.

  Naida pushed away a shank of hair that had fallen over her eyes. “Yes. I think I am, thanks to you. Are you all right?”

  “Sure. What happened?”

  She rested her hands on her hips. “At a guess, I’d say a power outage.”

  “You’re shitting me.”

  Naida snorted. “You always were so eloquent.”

  “Yep. That’s me. Mr. Manners.” Coop moved to the panel of buttons next to the doors and randomly started pushing them. “Damn. Damn. Damn. Damn.”

  Long, feminine fingers wrapped around his wrist. “Stop. It’s not going to do any good. You’ll only get more frustrated.”

  Coop leaned his head against the cool surface of the mirror. His breath fogged a small area of glass with each exhalation. Could the situation get any worse? He was stuck in an enclosed area with the woman who had caused his current erection. And the proximity did little to assuage the desire that still burned in his veins.

  He tapped the heel of his free hand against the wall before turning to face Naida. “I’m not used to getting stuck in elevators, and if I had to hazard a guess, between floors.” He looked around their prison and pointed to the rounded dome on the ceiling. “That’s a camera, isn’t it?”

  Naida followed his line of sight. “Yes, it is.”

  Coop rubbed his sweat-dampened forehead. The temperature in the car had risen sharply. “Then, they know we’re in here?” He shrugged out of his jacket.

  Naida shook her head. “Depends on if anyone saw us get on.”

  The small smile on his face faded. “They would check, wouldn’t they?”

  Naida leaned a hip against the wall. “This is Cicada Lake. Not New York City. I don’t believe that high tech was on their lists of things to do. I bet the backup lights are all we get.”

  He threw his hands up in the air. “Great. Fuckin’ great.”

  “There’s that eloquence again. Be careful, or some people might get the idea that you’re sophisticated.” Her muted cough sounded suspiciously like a laugh.

  He pinned her with a glare that he hoped could melt steel. “Hardy har har. Laugh it up. You’re stuck here with me.”

  Naida’s laughter faded away. Reality must have struck. “I guess I am.” She slipped out of her trench coat and began pacing in the small confines of the car.

  Even in such tight quarters, she moved with a grace that he had never seen in another woman—or person, for that matter. Fluid. Her movements were fluid, like water.

  After every couple of steps, she would glance over her shoulder at him. Longing filled the depths of her brown eyes. He knew she’d felt something moments ago before they’d stepped into the elevator. Her cheeks
were still flush from desire. She couldn’t seem to stand still.

  Naida had a superior ass. He was lucky enough to get a peek each time she reversed her path. “Would you sit down, please? You’re making me nervous.”

  That was a lie. She didn’t make him nervous. She made him want her.

  Need thrummed through him. He’d thought he was over her, their marriage, their life together.

  One look at her when he had entered Judge Hawker’s chambers had thrown that notion asunder. He’d never been more wrong in his life.

  The truth of the matter struck him, staggered him under its heavy weight. He rubbed his forehead and leaned against the wall.

  He still loved her. Loved her. The realization left him trembling.

  Naida’s soft, husky voice flitted to his ears, “Are you okay? Does your back bother you that much?” The question had been asked innocently enough, filled only with concern.

  His eyes met hers in the orange glow. “Naida,” he murmured.

  Her eyes widened, and she retreated until she met the opposite wall.

  Two strides had him positioned directly in front of her. He reached out to her with a shaking hand. “Naida,” he repeated.

  “Coop.” His name came out as a throaty groan.

  “Stop me. Tell me ‘no’.”

  She shook her head. “I…”

  The single syllable drew his gaze to her full mouth. Naida nibbled her lip. He became fixated on the innocent, and incredibly sexy, reaction. She lifted a hand to his chest, laying it over his thudding heart.

  Did she mean to push him away? Coop didn’t know. Her touch ignited a flame he’d thought had long since been extinguished. His fingers encircled her wrist. Her pulse thundered and quickened.

  He didn’t think it possible, but his cock swelled even more against the confining denim. “Naida. Naida,” he repeated like a mantra.

  “Yes,” she whispered, breathlessly. “Yes.”

  The dam broke. His emotions ran rampant, unchecked.

  Coop released her wrist and placed a hand on either side of her head. “Tell me you want me,” he demanded, before he leaned in for a quick, hard kiss. Air sawed in and out of his lungs. Need raged, boiled his blood. “Tell me!”