Cooper rubbed his cheek with his palm, obviously considering. “My mom foisted that chair on me. It was my grandfather’s, but I’ve been afraid to sit in it, considering the damaged material.”
“We can take your fears away,” she said, smiling. “And have an ottoman made to match? Then you’d be as comfortable reading here as in one of your leather recliners by the big screen in the other room.”
He nodded. “I like it. I like the idea of updating Grandpa’s chair and actually using it.”
“Some old furniture is not worth putting the money into. But this one has good bones.”
Cooper smiled. “You’re gonna make my mom happy. She didn’t like my idea of carting it to the dump.”
And he liked the idea of making his mother happy, she could see, meaning his family probably had good bones too. Strong. Solid.
“She lives nearby?” Willow asked, curious, though it wasn’t a job-related question.
“Yeah. But she and Dad have been on a post-retirement Western-states tour. They’re due back soon, which gives Soph and me just a short reprieve before being forced to suffer through a long evening of photo-sharing. I curse the day I showed Mom how to cast them from her phone to the TV screen.”
He didn’t appear as put-out by the idea of reconnecting with his parents as those words might have conveyed. Willow tilted her head. “You’re a close family.”
“We live in the same town,” he said with a shrug. “My mother’s chocolate chip cookies can’t be beat. She makes a beef stew that’s my favorite meal in life.”
“And you’re close with your father?”
He hesitated, and Willow recalled him telling her his dad said Cooper’s attention span was short. What had made her pry, she wondered now. The man was a job, nothing more. Getting personal wasn’t her style, getting personal with Cooper, hot handsome Cooper, wasn’t smart.
“My dad and I don’t always see eye to eye,” he finally said, with a stiffness to his posture that hadn’t been there before. “My older brother Beau is a chip off the old block, Sophie’s the darling daughter, so I guess somebody has to be the black sheep in the family.”
Willow frowned. “You must have hidden sides of you I have yet to see. To my eyes, you’re a successful businessman.”
He stared at her a moment, then every aspect of him changed. A smile grew on his face as he leaned a shoulder against the doorjamb and crossed his feet at the ankle, his arms over his chest. All previous tension had clearly dropped away. “Oh, Willow…” A mischievous glint appeared in his eyes.
Her heartbeat sped up. “Oh, Willow…what?”
“‘Successful businessman’ sounds so…staid. So…respectable. Safe.”
Though her pulse beat in her ears, she could still make out the tone of his voice. A little teasing. A little tempting.
Dark, in a good, shivery kind of way.
Like he wasn’t safe for her, unless she was closer, within his arms. The contradictory feeling drew her toward him, gave her a kind of courage that she’d found once in a warm beer or a slug of cheap vodka. “What are you saying, Cooper?” Her own voice sounded softer, unlike she’d heard herself before. Not quite flirtatious, but almost, with a thread of amusement deep down. “That you might be a little bad?”
He laughed, low. “Define ‘little.’”
Her head did a tipsy whirl as she was now close enough to breathe in that wonderful scent of him. Swallowing, she tilted her chin to meet his gaze. “Do you drive a motorcycle? Have inappropriate tattoos? An arrest record?”
He stared down at her, and the walls of the room seemed to close in. What she’d estimated as size sixteen-by-twenty becoming eight-by-ten. Smaller. He had to be able to see her pulse racing at her throat. She could feel it there, a bird’s wings fluttering.
“Oh, yeah, sweetheart. Motorcycles, tattoos, law-breaking. All of that.” He leaned in to whisper in her ear. “And more.”
Her reaction was probably what he’d intended. At his hot breath landing on the shell of her ear, she jumped like a cat, then scurried around him, a death grip on her notepad and pencil as she made for less personal space.
The front door.
“I guess I have all I need,” she said in a brisk voice, striding for it. Her body hummed, still revved from the sexual energy that had arced between them as they stood so close together, flirting.
Flirting on the job!
Embarrassed, she didn’t hitch her pace as he reached around her for the doorknob and opened it just a moment before she sailed through. Instead of staying behind, though, he followed on her heels.
“Let me walk you out,” he murmured.
It would be even more embarrassing if she protested. Trying to gather her dignity, she took a couple of long breaths and slowed her pace so it didn’t seem as if she was running away from the man. Once they reached the main level, she threw him a quick glance.
“I’ll be fine from here,” she said.
“Let me show you a shortcut,” he said, his tone noncommittal. “You seem to be in a hurry.”
Great. Way to assure the man she was up to the job, she thought. A professional, focused on getting work done, wouldn’t be bowled over by an attractive man’s sexual charge. And it wasn’t as if he worked at it, she thought glumly. His powerful pheromones naturally radiated from him like rays from the sun.
She had to be careful not to get burned.
As they crossed through a parking lot, the cars shielded by extensive solar canopies, she noted with approval, a voice called his name. He looked over, then headed toward the sound. “I’ll be just a minute,” he said over his shoulder.
Willow trailed him, watching as he was hailed again by an attractive older woman, though not quite old enough to be his mother. She appeared just as sexual appeal-struck as Willow felt in his presence, beaming at the man with one hand on his forearm, the other gesturing to the luxury sedan behind her, its hood propped open.
He made to move toward it, then glanced back at Willow again.
She gave him a small go-ahead nod, thinking if it went on too long she’d make her excuses and find her way toward town on her own. Sure, she could have done that immediately, but then he bent over the car engine and she, well, she…
Stared at his butt.
Admired it. Appreciated it.
More embarrassment licked heat along her neck and face, but she didn’t move. Ogling might be foreign to her, just as flirting hadn’t been part of her repertoire in years, but something about Cooper impelled her to do both. What could it hurt, though? Looking wasn’t a crime, and the flirting…
It didn’t mean a thing to him. Willow could tell by the way the older woman spoke as he straightened and shut the hood of her Mercedes that she was thanking him in a way that was certainly friendly and even possibly inviting. He seemed to let it roll off his back with a good-natured grin and yet another easy shrug of his broad shoulders.
Envy tightened Willow’s stomach as the car owner laughed and went on tiptoe to kiss his cheek. While being around Cooper made Willow’s heart pound and palms sweat, the lady now waved him off as if handsome men crossed her path every hour on the hour. Why did the man make Willow feel so unbalanced? So breathless?
“What’s with the frown?” he asked, eyebrows rising as he approached.
“Oh, nothing,” she said. “You managed to solve her problem?” They started off again as the car’s motor turned over, a gentle purr.
Cooper glanced back. “She’s taking it into the shop. It wasn’t starting but I was able to tighten the battery connection.”
Handsome, sexy, and handy too? Now annoyance was building inside her and she did nothing to smother it. “You must be in demand everywhere.”
If he heard the snarky note in her voice, he didn’t respond to it. “I learned a few things besides cursing in my year of auto shop in high school.”
“Cursing?”
“Oh, yeah.” He wound his way through a line of cars and then bee-lined for a pe
destrian gate in the complex’s six-foot-high fencing. “My mother was beside herself. But she cooled down when my new skills got us off the side of the road one day.”
“I can see how that might persuade her.”
“And I wasn’t going to leave my crew, who were all in that class, to take study hall or staple papers in the school office.”
“Horrors,” she murmured, in faux sympathy.
He shot her one of his grins. “Seriously. Because I would still be hearing about that all these years later. My auto shop guys are the six I play poker with on a weekly basis.”
“You’re still close with people from high school?” Willow hadn’t found a tight-knit group of girlfriends as a teen, because she’d keenly felt her foster-kid status and the fact that she’d always had Brad right next door.
“Yep. You know at least one of them…Hart Sawyer? He’s the guy I sent over to you at the community fundraiser.”
“I do know Hart. As a matter of fact, I’ve bid on some design work for one of his new projects.”
Cooper stopped at the gate. “He’s a good guy. It’s a damn shame about—you know he lost his fiancée?”
“I heard. But if he’s got a strong core of friends around him, that’s got to help.”
“Yeah. Maybe.” Cooper forked a hand through his hair. “Don’t know what we can do, though, not really.”
Willow sensed his frustration at being unable to help the man and it touched her…effortless charm couldn’t fix all wounds, and that had to be an unhappy lesson to learn. “I’m sure it helps,” she assured him, and found herself putting her hand on his arm. “I don’t have a close group like that, but I just know it’s a source of comfort to him.”
He stared down at her fingers, his warm skin transferring its heat to hers. “They’re good people,” he said, almost absently. “About that…”
Willow didn’t think she could peel her flesh from his. Or maybe she just didn’t want to. “About that?”
His gaze flipped up to hers. “We’re having a barbecue Saturday night, our group. It’s at Hart’s, actually. You could come with—”
“I don’t date,” she blurted out. “I couldn’t come with you.”
“—a side dish,” he said, as if she hadn’t spoken. “A salad, a dessert. It would be a good way to meet people, make contacts, possibly field more jobs.”
Mortification rushed from her scalp to her toes, scalding her all over. He’d been trying to do her a favor, a business favor. He hadn’t been on the verge of asking her out. Her gaze dropped to the asphalt, seeking some way to salvage her dignity that didn’t involve looking at Cooper.
She couldn’t possibly take him up on the invite, of course. But…
Meet people, make contacts, possibly field more jobs.
Growing her business was one of the reasons she’d donated her services to the fundraiser which had led to meeting Cooper. Cooper, who was now suggesting a casual, social way to network.
Refusing that would only make the whole situation so much more awkward.
So she said yes.
Cooper let the last of his poker night buddies into the condo and followed him toward the knot of other players. “Hey.” He dug into the bucket of iced beers and drew out two, handing one to the final arrival, Maddox Kelly. “Remind me to kick your ass at the table tonight for betting against me at the fundraiser.”
Maddox’s lip curled in an exaggerated sneer. Poker night had its traditions and posturing and bullshitting were two of them. “You didn’t take home the Jet Ski. I took home an extra twenty bucks. That tells me my luck is on the upswing while yours is down in the dirt.”
“That’s not what Coop thought Sunday, remember?” Hart put in. “One look at the designer whose services he won and he said he felt like a winner anyway.”
The attention of his six oldest friends suddenly seemed laser-focused on him. Cooper ran a hand over the back of his neck. “Who needs another beer? Sophie should be here with food in about fifteen.”
Somebody snickered.
“You’re as transparent as one of my teenage sisters,” Eli King said. “Why are you avoiding the subject?”
“Yeah,” Shane Rodriguez said, elbowing his half-brother Rafael. “You ever see ol’ Coop’s eyes dart around like that?”
“She’s probably making him choose new towels and sheets.” Boone, a mountain of a man, sighed. “I actually tried lying to Gemma to get out of it. Told her I was color blind and it was completely up to her.”
“But she wasn’t taken in.” Eli laughed. “Did she force you to adopt another kitten to make up for it?”
The big man smirked. “It might have involved petting a pussy.” Then a dull red climbed up his neck. “Never tell her I said any such thing. Swear it!”
The rest of them were already howling with laughter. Boone didn’t, as a rule, cross a line into crassness, even during poker night, when they’d all been known to relax some of the usual social rules.
Meaning sexual innuendo and vulgar jokes were occasionally thrown down with a winning hand.
“Stop,” Boone protested. “It just slipped out and was disrespectful to Gemma. Gemma!”
Their big friend’s devotion to his fiancée was as epic and his distress was palpable, so after a few sputtering attempts the rest of the group managed to curtail their amusement.
“Sorry, Boone,” Cooper said, tossing a paper napkin to Rafael so he could blot the beer he’d spilled onto his T-shirt. “You’re always such a gentleman.”
“It’s this wedding registry business,” he said darkly. “It’s a thing, did you know that? Signing up for gifts…” His voice trailed off.
Oh, hell. Cooper grimaced as Boone’s gaze swung to Hart, then dropped to his beer.
The big man pinched the bridge of his nose. “Fuck,” he muttered. “I’m sorry, Hart.”
Yeah, the other man knew about wedding registries. He’d had one of his own and he should have been eating off the plates and drinking from the wineglasses that had been listed there. Instead, he was a widower before he’d even had a wife. Single as Cooper and Maddox and Shane and Rafael, but lonelier than all of them put together.
Not that Cooper was actually lonely, of course.
“About the designer,” he heard himself say, and then silently groaned. But a deflection from the awkward topic at hand was necessary, and he guessed he was willing to sacrifice his privacy. He was the host.
“What about the designer?” Rafael asked, and made an hourglass shape with his hands. “Slender, stacked? Brunette or baby blonde?”
Raf wasn’t getting anywhere near Willow, Cooper decided instantly. “She’s a person. Not a collection of numbers or a game avatar’s attributes.”
The other man’s brows rose and he shot a look at Shane. “Touchy. I say he’s smitten.”
“Agreed,” Shane said. “So who can give us a description since Coop’s being so cranky about it?”’
“I’m not cranky,” he protested, sounding cranky. Damn it. He drew in a breath. “I’m never cranky.”
“About the designer you are,” Shane advised. He shoved a hank of his sun-streaked surfer hair from his forehead. There was no one on earth more laid-back, so relaxed that they’d been known to check his pulse as he sat at the poker table, his eyes half-closed. “Dude, I’m feeling a disturbance in your force.”
Cooper groaned. Shane also thought himself supremely able to read people. “I don’t need you practicing your so-called telepathy on me. Not today.”
“But—”
“Not if you want your share of Sophie’s Tex-Mex casserole,” he said, hearing the front door open and his sister call out. “Just in time,” he yelled her way. “Hunger is making the poker crew restless.”
The next several minutes were spent setting out the food on the kitchen island. Everybody helped, because the smell of the meal his sister had made was that compelling. They wanted it in their bellies, asap.
“This on your catering menu?” Raf a
sked, snitching a crunchy corner of baked cheese and olive.
“If you guys like it well enough,” she replied. Barista by day, she had a side business preparing and cooking food mostly for private parties, using the kitchen at the coffee place, a deal she’d wrangled with Harry, the owner.
As the men began to dish up the casserole, huge green salad, and warmed, rolled tortillas, he and his sister drifted some steps away. Sophie glanced over her shoulder. “Good, you have the wooden dining surface on top of the poker table.”
“Of course. I wouldn’t risk my felt surface with this group.” Each of the poker buddies had their own specific setup they used when it was their turn to host. At an estate sale he’d visited a couple of years ago, he’d picked up the dual-purpose table. It was one of his most treasured possessions.
He frowned, thinking he should have told Willow about it. For sure he wasn’t going to replace that item, no matter what her recommendation.
As if she read his mind, his sister glanced over. “How did your designer appointment go?”
His mind went back to Willow again. Damn, but he’d known he shouldn’t have let her into his place. Not just because she might threaten his beloved poker/dining table, but because he hadn’t been able to get her presence in his rooms out of his head since.
There. He admitted it, if only to himself. His gaze slid toward his bedroom, remembering her in that space, looking upon his grandpa’s chair. Cooper’s bed. In the bathroom, her hand had drifted over one of the thick towels—selected by his mother—and after she’d left, he’d thrown the one she’d touched into the laundry.
Crazy.
That’s how she made him.
“What do you know about her?” he asked his sister. “The designer, I mean.”
“Skinny latté, extra shot.” At his look, she shrugged. “Sorry, I don’t know her at all, not really. She seems nice though.”
He grunted. Nice was not the word, he’d use. Unsettling. Alluring. Those long lashes, those big eyes, that pouty mouth. He wanted them too much too soon.
ANTE UP (7-Stud Club Book 3) Page 4
