Sophie sobered and she put a hand on his arm. “I was just teasing, Cooper. I didn’t intend to poke a sore spot.”
He frowned. “I don’t have a sore spot!”
“And you’re not cranky, either,” she murmured. “But about Dad’s assessment of your character—”
“Let’s talk about something else,” Cooper said, turning to direct his gaze out the window as he battled a dark mood threatening to descend.
“I have been thinking about the anniversary party…”
He groaned. “You promised to handle that. Isn’t it enough that I made the band swear they’ll
play a decent rendition of the piña colada song?”
“Mom loves that song,” Sophie pointed out. “You know she’ll be over the moon.”
“What song?” The interior designer had returned.
Cooper shifted, getting his second full look at Willow Ray from a conversational distance away. There was a delicate cast to her features, her nose small, her chin gently rounded. It was a face made for flower crowns and faint blushes. She had one of those now, and it deepened as he continued gazing on her. Her build was slender and he recalled the slim daintiness of her hands. In her line of work wouldn’t she have to cart about huge bolts of cloth and manhandle ottomans and coffee tables?
The idea of that perturbed him slightly less than her going into strangers’ homes, strange men’s homes, and…and…looking at their private spaces, at their beds, of all things, when those strange men likely couldn’t help but imagine her in them.
And not alone.
“What made you want to do this kind of thing?” he asked Willow, sounding abrupt. With effort, he softened his tone. “Uh, design, I mean.”
“Oh. Well. In my teen years, I had someone in my life who encouraged me to find my passion,” Her mouth turned up in a small, fond smile. “That was easy—I knew I was interested in how to make shelters created by foundations and walls and roofs feel more like homes.”
“You went to school for that?” Sophie asked.
Willow nodded. “A bachelor’s degree from one of the state universities. Then I worked for a big firm for three years that gave me a variety of experiences in residential and business design. Now I have my certification by the state of California as well.”
So went Cooper’s vague idea of ducking out of using her services because she didn’t have enough experience. How he might have managed to convey that without insult, he didn’t know, but the point was moot now. However…
“You must be very busy,” he said, grabbing for a new stratagem. “You can’t possibly have the time to take on another job.”
He could feel his sister’s speculative glance. She had to be wondering why the hell he was fighting so hard to keep clear of a pretty girl. Well, it wasn’t like he could explain it to himself, either. He was good with people, including women, and it had always come naturally to put new acquaintances at their ease. But there was just something about her.
Rearrange his world.
He didn’t want that, okay? His world, friends and Fun & Games, was just the way he liked it.
Certain this was the right tack, he nodded. “Yes. We can table this for some other future—” far-off future, perhaps never “—time.”
Her mouth turned down. “But I feel an obligation. I offered my services in good faith.”
“Of course. Still, it’s okay—”
“The victims’ assistance organization is near and dear to my heart,” she said earnestly. “They help people, especially a lot of kids, at the lowest point of their lives.”
“Yes, but—”
“Cooper, it’s important I do this. And it wouldn’t feel right that you didn’t take advantage of your prize.”
And now it was he who felt low, for trying to prevent her from doing good. Yeah, low, like a rat, a snake, and the disappointment on her face and the concern in those heavily lashed eyes seemed to wrap around his heart like the chains of an anchor, causing it to fall leadenly to his stomach. He swallowed.
“Um, uh.” God, he was losing it. “Well, when you put it like that—”
She beamed.
The world stopped. Clocks didn’t tick, his heart didn’t beat, no breath was taken by man or beast. Her genuine, happy smile made him lose wit and will.
For a moment he thought of his two friends, Boone and Eli, wearing stupid, pole-axed expressions when they looked upon the women they’d recently found and intended to marry.
Then he thought of Hart, who had once been equally besotted but now walked around with a ghost clinging to his back.
That image almost brought him back to his senses. To full, bachelor, unattached strength.
But Willow was still smiling. Pleased. Approving.
He cleared his throat, unable to resist the lure. Weight remained heavily settled in his gut, but it didn’t matter. “Of course we’ll get started. Today. As a matter of fact, right now.”
Willow walked through the door Cooper held open for her. “Thank you,” she murmured, leaving the café to blink against the bright outdoor light.
“Are you sure you don’t mind walking to my condo?” he asked. “I promise it won’t take long.”
“I don’t mind at all.” A small breeze kicked up the ends of her hair, the cool wind a welcome addition to the afternoon’s warmth. “It will give me a chance to get to know you better.”
She could feel his surprise and her face warmed as she glanced over and added a hasty explanation. “It’s important to me that I understand your needs.”
“My needs.” His blank expression was way too blank.
“In order to do my job,” she added, ignoring the new heat crawling up her neck. “I can provide better service that way.”
“Better service.”
She frowned. Was he deliberating trying to make her comments sound salacious? “Of course I mean this in a strictly professional sense.”
“Of course,” he said, and indicated the way forward with a hand. “I’m a strict professional myself.”
She thought now he might be teasing her, because his lips had curved in a hint of that charming smile of his, but she wasn’t sure so she shut her mouth and started off down the sidewalk, in the direction of the condo complex where Cooper lived not far from the main downtown area.
They could have driven together in her car—he’d walked to their meeting, but she had her own parked on a nearby street—but being confined in such a small space with him…well, she’d opted for fresh air and the wide open, where any wayward thoughts or awkward responses would be free to dissipate.
All the better to keep it strictly professional.
Her phrase of the day, she promised herself. It’s why she hadn’t grabbed at the opportunity to postpone, perhaps indefinitely, fulfilling her obligation. She was still establishing her reputation in the community and with luck she’d be able to use Cooper as a future reference. As someone building her own business, she needed to prove herself reliable and skilled at both her work and time management.
Not to mention capable of reining in her wayward thoughts and awkward responses.
Even now, she was supremely aware of him strolling beside her, long legs in worn jeans and a soft blue T-shirt stretching across his wide shoulders. On his feet he wore saddle-brown casual boots that looked pricey but well-worn.
His walk was loose-limbed and relaxed, his whole posture making clear he was supremely comfortable in his own skin.
Maybe that was the appeal—that confidence. Any person would admire it in another person.
He looked over at her and she felt the glance like a zap to the heart. Her breath caught in her throat and she didn’t know if he sensed her reaction to him, but then he smiled.
It wasn’t a person-smile, but a man-smile. And she realized she wasn’t attracted to his person-confidence, but to his masculine confidence.
His sexual confidence.
It was impossible to ignore.
Danger prickle
d along her spine, and she looked away, down at her feet.
“This is where I work.” Cooper closed his fingers over her upper arm to stop her forward movement.
Her head snapped up and she jerked away from his touch.
Cooper lifted both hands palm out. “Sorry.”
“It’s okay. I was, um, just startled.” Hot. Cold. Goose bumps were racing over her skin again. What had he said? His workplace? They stood in front of a storefront and she glanced at the neon sign overhead. Fun & Games.
“We brew beer and offer pub food and all kinds of games…board games, table games like ping-pong and air hockey. Video games too.”
“You brew beer?” She narrowed her eyes, trying to picture him as a sort of mad professor-type. It didn’t fit.
“Not personally. There’s someone else who does that.”
“Are you the…cook then?”
“Another guy is in charge of the kitchen.” He shrugged. “I get behind the bar when I need to and bus tables when I need to and deliver food if we’re swamped. But mostly I like to…facilitate the fun.”
“Meaning?”
He shrugged again. “I plan trivia nights and set up game tournaments and generally walk around being genial.” Another of his smiles curved his mouth.
“Do you own the pub?”
“I do. I had some profits from a winery I helped a friend establish and before that I did some property management and before that I started a moving business that I eventually sold to a couple of the part-timers who worked for me. In college, I was on a construction crew in the summers and in high school I washed cars at an auto dealership. Oh yeah, between the moving business and managing apartments, I ran a couple of laundromats near the college.”
“Wow.”
“Yeah, as my dad never ceases to remind me, I don’t have a long attention span.”
“I didn’t mean—”
“I’ll show you the pub some other time, though. If I walk in there now, my new manager might think I don’t have faith in her.”
His fingers closed around Willow’s elbow to lead her forward and she congratulated herself for not flinching or flinging her arm away from his touch. Quite the professional, she thought, even as she couldn’t help but be impressed by the pure…industriousness of her new client.
He must have more energy than the average man, she decided.
What would all that vitality be like in bed?
How robust an event and how many times engaging in such event would it take to satisfy him?
“This seems much too one-sided,” he said.
“One-sided?” she echoed, her mind elsewhere. Would he be a selfish lover or one intent on quenching his partner’s desires as well?
“Yes,” he continued. “I should know more about you.”
Oh. Oh, well. She cleared her throat, dragging her attention back to the present. “I thought I already went over my background and qualifications.”
“Where did you grow up?” he asked.
They had reached a gate that she realized led into his complex. He held it open for her and she walked through, taking in the expansive grounds—walkways, ponds, and waterfalls. In the distance, two tennis courts, a large pool, and a bocce ball court. More fun and games, which seemed to suit him eminently.
“You’re not from here,” Cooper said. “I’d remember you.”
“The next town over.” She followed his lead along a curving path, then up two flights of outdoor stairs.
“How do you spend your spare time?”
Even knowing it would sound boring to him, she didn’t try to spice up the truth. “I pore over magazines looking for inspiration, visit antiques stores, stop at every estate sale I come across.”
“Me too,” he said, pausing at a front door and pulling a set of keys from his pocket.
She stared. “You’re kidding, right? You shop estate sales?”
“I collect some old stuff. Games for the brew pub, poker paraphernalia from days gone by, used DVDs of classic movies. Okay, even non-classic movies.”
He unlocked the door and threw it open. “So that’s the what,” he said, as she walked in. “Who do you do in your spare time?”
She threw a startled glance over her shoulder, only to see him grinning at her. “You don’t need to answer that. I only thought it fair that since you’re going to be rearranging my life I should know all I can about yours.”
Shaking her head, she crossed the tiled foyer. “Let’s stick to color schemes and living space flow.”
“Still the strict professional, I see,” he said, his grin unrepentant.
And unsafe. Because that slice of white hit her again, in her chest, lower, everywhere, generating something biological inside of her. She knew it had nothing to do with anything cerebral like a shared interest in estate sales but came from a primal impulse to meet bodies, not minds.
Ignoring the urge to smile back—and more—she slowly surveyed the living space. An expansive great room, a dining alcove, a large kitchen complete with granite-topped island. A patio door led to the balcony overlooking the grounds.
Given his proclaimed fascination with old movies, she wasn’t surprised by the big screen TV, the comfortable sofas gathered around it, and the shelving displaying dozens and dozens of DVDs. Then her eye traveled to one of the off-white walls, this one painted with seven haphazard stripes, all in various shades of blue to green.
She looked over to catch him watching her. “There you have it,” he said, gesturing to the brushed-on patches. “Everything you need to know about me. I can’t even commit to a color.”
The offhand tone struck her as wrong. But she had a job to do, not a man’s psyche to mine, so she moved toward a hallway, peeking in a room clearly used as an office. The furniture in the space here should be shuffled, she noted right away. The desk moved to the opposite wall would eliminate the glare on his laptop’s screen.
Across the hall a half-closed door led to what she was sure was Cooper’s bedroom. Hesitating, she had the silliest idea that she should make up some excuse to leave his home before peeking inside. Leave right now, a voice in her head whispered.
Surely there was a suddenly recalled, pressing appointment she could make sound credible. A dental cleaning. A need to make a grocery run for her almost-mom, who with three young kids could always use a bunch of bananas or a carton of yogurt.
But Rachel hadn’t encouraged her to make her way in the world only to balk when a certain male client punched buttons that may have never been touched before. Wait–was that possibly true?
Men weren’t new to her life. She was no virginal miss.
There’d even been those lonely months when she was seventeen and Brad had first been deployed that she’d gone to beach bashes and unchaperoned house parties during which she’d let boys get close because she’d been uncertain of who she was and thought to find herself in their gazes.
In their clumsy, usually selfish embraces.
But she’d grown up, got smart, had forged her identity.
Be professional.
On a deep breath, she pressed the flat of her palm to the door and pushed, already moving forward into the opening.
Then it was like hitting a wall. Her feet stuttered to a halt. He was here, in here, in this private space.
A T-shirt flung across the foot of the bed, a graphic novel open on the night table, a handful of colorful business cards tossed on the dresser.
More intimate was the subtle scent that was Cooper Daggett, a little salt, a little spice, a little something else that she drew into her lungs and tasted on her tongue. She felt him come up behind her, and she knew she should step farther into the space, away from his heat, but that seemed hazardous.
Not that feeling him at her back didn’t carry its own risk.
She held herself still, battling the ridiculous impulse to lean against him. On a breath, she gathered herself together and tried for a practical tone. “Is there anything you don’t particularly lik
e in this space?”
He made a non-committal sound.
“All right,” she said, still doing her best to be designer-to-client instead of woman-to-man. “Is there anything you do like?”
His breath seemed to hitch. “The way you’d look inside of it.”
Chapter Three
Willow had pretended not to hear that remark. Still, the way you’d look inside of it, spoken in a low tone, his mouth close enough to stir her hair, was etched on her consciousness. There hadn’t been any kind of flirting quality to the words, she thought. It hadn’t had that easy-please-y charm that seemed to come so effortlessly to him.
He’d sounded serious.
So she’d seriously ignored it, and forced herself to take a quick perusal of the bedroom and attached bathroom, digging a notepad from the satchel over her shoulder to jot down numbers. This was a job and nothing more, she reminded herself.
“You don’t need a measuring tape?” he asked, hovering near the doorway.
“In these modern spaces, rooms are standard-sized,” she said. “I’ve looked at enough of them to know a ten-by-twelve from a twelve-by-sixteen at a glance.”
“So what do you think?” he asked, after a couple more minutes of silence.
She glanced over. “About?”
“I’m sure improvements can be made. I know my furnishings are a mere step above the cinderblock-and-plank shelving that came out of my college apartment.”
“A space can always be made more useful to its owner. More pleasing. More home-like, as I mentioned before.” She couldn’t help adjusting the angle of a frame propped on his dresser, without letting herself examine too closely the photograph within. But not a girlfriend, she noted. It appeared to be large group of people, maybe relatives gathered for a holiday.
Her attention wandered to a wide easy chair in one corner, the fabric at the top of the seat back cushion faded and split from the sun, though it was placed far from the room’s windows. It had been elsewhere at one time, and for many years.
Still, she liked the look of it. “What do you think about recovering this easy chair?” she asked. “I can give you a great deal on the yardage through my contacts. I don’t do the work myself, but I have the name of an excellent upholsterer and I guarantee you’ll like the results.”
ANTE UP (7-Stud Club Book 3) Page 3
