by Kaylea Cross
“I’m surprised they let you in,” she said.
“Did two tours with your guard out front, Ma’am,” Kyle offered. “He lost part of an arm in Afghanistan.”
Cooper understood completely. He turned to Mrs. Brownlee. “Can you tell us what happened?” he asked.
Carla looked around to see who else might be listening and then started, “Someone set Austin’s office on fire. There’s not much structural damage, but it’s a mess. Fire’s out, I think.” She waved her hand in front of her face to swish remnants of smoke from her eyes.
“Anyone hurt?” He meant that to mean Libby.
“No, we’re all fine. Who would do such a thing, Cooper?”
“Not sure, ma’am. No offense, but I’m not the shrink here.” he answered.
She narrowed her eyes and leaned towards him. “Libby’s out by the pool.” She waited, looking into all the faces of Cooper’s Team. “You boys come on in, but stay away from the investigators. Coop, I think she’d want to see you, privately, of course.”
Of course he wanted to. But would she be happy to see him? He knew she’d be terrified. Suddenly he needed to get to her.
The guys sauntered through the entryway to the foyer, doing a double-take at the tall ceilings and intricate metal staircase leading to the second floor, as Cooper pushed by them on his way toward the kitchen and rear yard. He heard the squawk of police and fire radios.
Fredo ran to catch up to him. He didn’t need a nursemaid or a witness to whatever he was going to say to her, but a part of him was grateful Fredo had his back. As they passed by Dr. Brownlee’s office, three large yellow-clad firemen had their arms filled with boxes of smoldering papers, which they dropped on cue and began spreading out on the floor. A dark black streak went up the side of one wall of the study, originating from the opened window to the backyard. Dr. Brownlee was absent-mindedly wandering around the room, looking at various piles of manila folders and paperwork, generally making himself a nuisance to the firemen.
Detective Riverton appeared out of nowhere, his little notebook and pen out and ready.
“Surprised to see you here,” he said. “Wow, you brought reinforcements too,” he said as he noted Kyle and the rest of the Team. “You just happened to stop by today?” He drilled Cooper a look that almost hurt.
“We saw it on the TV, sir. I recognized the house. Thought we could help.”
“Oh good,” the detective said with emphasis. “Well, as far as I know, this wouldn’t require the SEALs. Not exactly an international incident. Not that it isn’t a big deal to Dr. Brownlee, here.”
Cooper saw Riverton wasn’t as casual as he was making it seem.
Kyle was usually the first to speak to an authority figure, so he inserted his body between Riverton and his man. “We understand, just wanted to be of help, if we could.” Coop knew his LPO was trying to deflect Riverton’s attention.
Riverton was relentless, pushing Kyle aside with the back of his hand. In another place, at another time, that would be a call to action. Cooper could feel the men tense up behind him. Kyle stepped back and allowed Riverton to question Cooper at close range.
Coop raised his forearms up in the air in mock surrender. “Just wanted to be sure Libby and her parents were okay. If you say they are, we’ll be going,” he said, but Riverton was staring at the tats on his forearm underside.
“Let me take a look at that, son.” He grabbed Cooper’s hand mid air and twisted his wrist so he could view the frog print tattoo extending all the way to Coop’s right elbow. He hailed the police photographer to take a picture. Cooper didn’t refuse permission.
Kyle stood right next to him. “You want to take a picture of mine, too, detective?” He held out his arm with the identical tattoo.
Fredo and Armando extended their arms as well. Riverton was surrounded by frog prints. He gave a wincing glance to Gunny who grinned.
“Mine’s in my shirt,” the ex-Marine said as he started to pull at his collar.
“No. Wait. That won’t be necessary.” Riverton’s face flushed in anger. Cooper was grateful he had lucked out and the rest of the Team had his back. Another lesson in not getting himself too far out on his own. Stick with the Team. Best be on the inside of the pack. On the outside is where all the predators pick off the strays.
Riverton sighed, slumping his shoulders. He looked like he’d been yanked early out of bed and it was getting to him. His coat was wrinkled and the remnants of a tie was hanging out of his sport jacket pocket. His white shirt was also wrinkled and stained with coffee.
“The young lady is out back, son.”
That word again. Not. Your. Son.
“C’mon, Coop. My sinuses is giving me fits. I need some air,” Fredo said as he pulled Cooper’s arm and forced his buddy to take a couple of steps back and away from Riverton’s attention.
Fredo’s vise-like grip on Coop’s upper arm hurt like hell. But it kept his forward momentum, even though he wanted to turn and watch his LPO talk to Riverton. He knew he could trust Kyle to vouch for him. But he was dying to get some information before he had to see her.
And then he did just that. He almost ran right into her without noticing Fredo had released his arm. And there it was all over again, that chemistry. Where his forearm had brushed up against her chest and pressed into her delicate flesh, he felt the electric current that perked the hair all over his body to full attention. Not to mention the unit in his shorts.
She stepped back and put a hand to her chest. Her jaw was tight. Her eyebrows were drawn in an upward angle, pointing to the little lines in her forehead. Her hair was mussed, just like he liked it. She was scared to death and she was still the most beautiful thing he had seen, ever. He knew if he took her in his arms, he’d smell that familiar scent of arousal that would drive him to the beach and long midnight swims. She was going to be hard to get out of his system. And this was a crime scene.
You are such a fucking asshole.
Her eyes were long as she languished unkissed and unhugged, not more than eight inches in front of him. The painful space might as well have been a football field. Libby looked at Fredo, who was staring back at her with what appeared to be shock.
“This is my friend, Fredo. He’s on my Team.”
She didn’t say anything, but nodded a quick acknowledgement and returned to search Coop’s face.
“What happened?” he asked her finally. His hands were searching for a back pocket to dive into, but he’d worn the kakis with pockets everywhere but on his butt. Half afraid they’d reach out and grab her, he tilted his hip and perched them there at his waist. He felt ridiculous.
Carla broke the spell. “You guys go on out onto the patio. Leave these men to do their work. Don’t need to get in anybody’s way.” She pushed Coop at the small of his back with both her palms until he had no choice but to step forward and into Libby.
Libby collapsed in his arms for a brief second, and then stiffly righted herself. She would have fallen on the floor if he hadn’t caught her. He wanted to take her in his arms and tell her everything was going to be okay, that he had changed his mind, that he would protect her.
But he just couldn’t. What she needed most was to be with her own family. He had no right to take her away from them. He had nothing to offer. They’d discussed this before.
They even shook hands on it.
Fuck!
Chapter Eighteen
Libby wanted to run to Coop, to collapse in his arms, but that was just substituting one problem with another. She was so scared of the escalating situation that she was about to do something she promised herself she wouldn’t do. She was certain her fear was what was driving her to his arms. Well, that and the great sex, of course. No denying that chemistry they shared.
But the sex wasn’t a relationship, and wouldn’t be the reason for their relationship. She’d studied this in college, couples who got together at a particularly low point in their lives, and later, when they healed, when they g
rew up, they couldn’t keep it together. They grew apart.
No. She wanted a relationship with someone when she was healed. When she was whole. Besides, she needed to get her life back on track. This delicious detour was just that, a detour. Although his kisses were scorchingly hot, his moves made her bones turn to rubber, she knew better than to think a relationship based on sex alone would last. And she didn’t want to entertain anything unless it had a future in it.
It was time to deal with real life. This sailor was a rolling stone who needed to be exactly that to function in his dangerous world. She had been a privileged princess living in a conch-colored house and been given all the luxuries a girl could want, including the dusty rose wallpaper and white canopy bed. Her parents had paid for a great college education. She could graduate and start a practice without owing a dime to anyone.
She needed to prove to herself that she could make it on her own. She was done running into the arms of the men in her life.
The breakup would hurt for a while. But she jutted her chin toward Cooper’s face—that face she’d kissed and loved seeing kissing down her bare front.
Can I do this? She decided that somehow, the answer to that was yes.
“Cooper,” she said as she backed up far enough away from him so she couldn’t feel his heat. “Thank you for coming, but, as you can see, it’s like an anthill here. While my parents and I are grateful, I don’t think we need the SEALs getting involved in this.”
Cooper’s eyes glazed over. There was a twitch in his right upper lip. He looked like he’d been slapped. Fredo was staring at her.
It was a matter of logistics, she told herself. She was a logical person. Had a career path, had everything figured out, until that damned Dr. Gerhardt and his wayward libido sent her packing and home to San Diego. And now Cooper, with his cadre of friends just like him. Being honorable. Being just the kind of guy she didn’t want to be reminded she wanted. The kind of guy she wanted to run home to.
Except she couldn’t, wouldn’t let herself. She knew she wasn’t ready. Looking back at him, she was determined to show she was unaffected. She willed ice water into her veins, and raised her head atop a very straight neck. She got as tall as she could, inhaled quickly, and then exhaled slowly as she drew the courage to look at him again and this time show him her conviction.
Sometimes things that are good for you are also bad for you.
Damn!
It didn’t help. The stubble of his beard began to glisten in the sunlight. She focused on the crease at the right side of his mouth and, when he swallowed, she watched his Adam’s apple dip and rise from the top of his tee shirt. She had kissed that spot and knew the musky man scent of him there, felt those sharp bristles of early beard against her lips. The attraction pulled her almost to a swoon, and she struggled not to give in. Logically, she knew this was wrong, all wrong. But her body told her it was so very right.
Maybe it’s the fear. Maybe she just needed the security hanging around him gave her. Maybe it wasn’t attraction as much as need for protection. Of course, he would play the hero, be concerned. But she had to be strong and give him the out he needed, they both needed. She would have to act like she didn’t need him, want him so much. Maybe then she’d start to believe it. Some day.
It sure as hell wasn’t today. But she’d do the best she could.
Cooper stood before her in stunned silence. She guessed he hadn’t anticipated this. Just like at their first meeting, she’d showed him the distance between them. A clarity was coming to his eyes and he nodded slightly.
“So, I just don’t think there is anything you and your boys can do. Thanks, though.”
Cooper jerked to attention. “All right. Good,” he said. He scratched the back of his neck, his left hand snagged in his belt loop. “We don’t want to interfere.” He looked over at his Mexican buddy who was still fixated, staring back at her. Coop smacked him on the shoulder and Fredo came to. “Looks like we can go,” he told his buddy.
It broke Libby’s heart to hear the words. But he was right, of course.
Libby looked out to the garden shed and saw the gardener being interviewed by one of the police. The man was standing in his uniform: blue jeans and long-sleeved kaki brown shirt. He was holding a pair of pruning shears with a curved nub end.
Cooper nodded in her direction, “Well, if there is anything, you have my number. Give me a call.”
“Yes, I’ve got my trusty cell phone,” she said, drawing on the ice water in her veins. “I’ll be okay. You don’t need to worry, Cooper.”
“Libby, be careful,” he whispered. “I mean it. We have a saying in the Teams, ‘Not everyone who appears to be your enemy is, and not everyone who helps you is your friend.’ Don’t trust anyone but the police.”
She wanted to brush off the words. It would have been smart to keep her mouth shut. But she wasn’t feeling especially smart. She was getting angry.
“Well, I guess I can draw comfort from those parting words of wisdom. Thank you for the gift of your advice. And for your cell phone number, Coop.” She dug her phone from her pocket, holding it up.
How dare he stand there so handsome, so commanding, so concerned? What right did he have to come marching into her life, demonstrating his six-foot-something-of-a-hero-stuff, when she’d made a fool of herself? Giving her Team advice like she didn’t have a brain, or was one of the Team guys? She didn’t own chainmail undies or stainless steel bras. She was flesh and blood and she was in scared to death. And somehow it was all up to her to figure it out.
The duct tape and steel cables were failing her right now. Her heart was crumbling.
“Libby…” he started to respond. His eyes had softened, but Fredo was pulling his arm and dragging him off the patio back into the kitchen.
“Come on, bro,” Fredo said to everyone within earshot. He was intent on getting Cooper out of the kill zone just as if a helo were waiting for them for an extraction.
Libby followed, not taking her eyes off Cooper’s massive back as he moved with long fluid steps toward the front door. She wasn’t going to make this easy at all. She half way wanted to give his gorgeous butt a push with her pink toes accented with daisy flip fops.
The team gathered in single file and left her house just as quietly as they had entered. Libby slammed the glass and steel door behind them and turned around before she changed her mind and went flying into his arms. She stood face to face with her mother, who was standing in the foyer with her hands on her hips.
“Just what the hell was that, Libby?” her mother asked.
“Nothing.” God, help me. Can I do this?
Her mother raised one eyebrow, shifting her gaze to the closed front door as if she’d see the team saunter back in.
Libby shrugged her shoulders. “Too much going on. It was a mistake that they came over. They realize that now.”
“I think they wanted to help,” her mother said.
“Really? I’m not sure I’d call it help. I just think they have to get involved in everything. They can’t stay out of the fray. Occupational hazard. Egos the size of California, I’d say. Meddling. Just like Coop coming to this house in the first place. They can’t leave us alone. We don’t need their help. Or their memories.”
Libby brushed passed her mother, who still stood with her hands on her hips. She ran up the metal staircase to her room. Once inside, she threw herself on the bed and grabbed Morgan. The stuffed dog smelled like her cat, Noodles. Libby burst into tears and sobbed herself to sleep.
* * *
Cooper didn’t say anything as they maneuvered around the police cars and groups of onlookers on their way down the street. His heart was pounding in his chest, sending vibrations all the way to his toes. He thought the tips of his ears were on fire. Back in the truck, he stared blindly out the dirty window as he sat in the second seat. He felt like he’d been punched in the stomach. He knew the guys would give him a little space, but then they’d be all over him. Kyle would
be the one to indicate when that would be. It was up to Coop to make the adjustment, and he was going to put all his effort into doing that. He didn’t want them thinking he was anything but whole.
Kyle’s phone rang. He was sitting next to Coop on the second seat.
“Hey there, Christy.”
Coop could hear his wife’s voice on the other end of the line. He’d forgotten they were supposed to see some houses today for Armando and Mia.
“Sorry, honey, but we got caught up in something. We’re on our way.”
Got caught up with something. Not exactly the right way to put it. Coop felt a friendly thump on his shoulder from Gunny, who was stretched out on the third seat behind him.
“Where to, Senior?” Fredo asked from the driver’s seat.
Kyle hung up the phone and gave directions to Fredo. Armando leaned back over the front seat and shot Coop a wink, which pissed him off. But Coop knew it wouldn’t be a good idea to react until he knew for sure what he was feeling, or could bury it. For the second time in the last twenty-four hours he wished he still drank.
Where’d that thought come from? Although they pissed him off, he was grateful to be with his buds, the guys who would lay down their lives for him. And Gunny, well Gunny had nothing better to do.
Coop turned around and looked at the old Marine. “How you feeling these days, Gunny?”
“No, I did not quit smoking,” Gunny answered. “Don’t you guys ever fucking stop?”
“Thought we were gonna get another look at that chest tattoo again, Gunny,” Armando shouted back to him over the roar of the old beater. “That detective seemed kinda sweet on you.”
Everyone laughed, at Gunny’s expense. That was always the way it was. In an instant, the somberness of the moment was broken and Cooper began to loosen up. His need for alcohol vanished.
They drove down a tree-lined street of mostly small, single story homes with well-kept yards. They pulled up behind Kyle’s Tahoe, which was parked in front of a small yellow home with white trim and red tile roof. Kyle’s wife, Christy, got out of the truck, holding Brandon, their six-month-old son. Christy was jangling some keys as she turned the drooling baby over to his dad.
