Head Over Heels

by Susan Andersen

  “Ouch.” His teeth shone white in the pale winter sunshine that filtered through the window. “Not nice, sweetheart. But I forgive you, ’cause I know you’re not a morning person.”

  Before she had a chance to reply, he tossed aside the covers and sat up, leaning forward to slide his hands beneath her armpits. As if she weighed next to nothing, he plucked her up and laid back down with her. “Come cuddle with me for a few minutes.”

  “I don’t have time. The interview—”

  “Isn’t until one.” He settled her to his satisfaction and pulled up the covers. Rolling onto his side, he propped his head on his palm, reached out to gently smooth her hair behind her ear, and gave her a slow, killer smile. “Good morning.”

  It was pointless to struggle, she assured herself, pretending that her decision had nothing to do with the fact that being with him felt so wonderful. So…right. “Mornin’, yourself.”

  “You look mighty fine first thing in the morning.” A skeptical sound escaped her, but he blithely ignored it. “I especially like that bottomless thing you’ve got going there. In fact—”

  He slithered beneath the covers, and the warm brush of his body against hers as he snaked his way toward the bottom of the bed brought Veronica up onto her elbows. A moment later, Coop’s hands eased her legs apart and she felt the press of his mouth high against her inner thigh.

  “I really like this bottomless thing a lot,” his muffled voice said. Then he proceeded to show her how much.

  “Oh…my…gaaw—” Why not take what was offered and simply enjoy it? Obviously she’d grown fond of Coop, but it wasn’t as if she were in danger of falling in love with him or anything. So really. Why not just appreciate this for what it was?

  He did something devastating with his tongue and her elbows melted out from under her.

  It was, after all, just a tiny moment out of time.

  An hour and a half later, when Veronica let herself back into the house after the waitress interview, she found Cooper sitting at the kitchen table. Except for a lack of shoes, he was his usual spit-shined self again, his hair damp and spiky, his cheeks and jaw gleaming with that special sheen only babies’ bottoms and the freshly shaven seem to achieve.

  Looking up, he gave her an intimate smile and shut down a laptop computer she hadn’t known he owned. Before she finished closing the door behind her, he’d risen to his feet. “How’d the interview go?”

  “Wonderful—her name is Barbara, and she’s starting tonight.” Veronica executed a little dance step. “Which means I don’t have to work.”

  “Sandy could probably use a day off, too.”

  “I know. She told me once that she wanted the hours, but I don’t think ten-hour shifts, five days a week, were exactly what she had in mind. When you’ve got a free minute, we’ll have to sit down and look at the Tonk’s profits. She’s been so great about putting in the overtime without complaint that we oughtta be able to manage a small bonus for her next paycheck. I also plan to be there tonight to work out a schedule for the three of us. I’d like to reduce my role to fill-in waitress if it’s agreeable with Sandy and Barbara. I need to get back to my own career.”

  Hands in his jeans pockets, Coop rocked back on his wool-stocking-clad heels and studied her. The look in his eyes made Veronica’s heart pick up its beat. Disconcerted, she glanced over at the coffee brewing on the stove, glad for the excuse to look away.

  She didn’t hear Coop cross the floor, but as she reached for a mug on the second shelf, his arms wrapped around her and she felt him, solid and warm, against her back.

  “Ever made love on a kitchen counter before?” he murmured.

  Veronica felt her body begin to prepare itself for him, but she managed to sound reasonably cool when she replied, “No, and I don’t intend this to be the afternoon that changes.” His hands came up to cup her breasts and she sucked in a breath. “Lizzy’s probably going to come barreling through that door at any minute.” Even so, she leaned back against him.

  Coop raised his left hand from her breast long enough to turn his wrist and peer at the face of his watch. “Damn. You’re right. Marissa called to say the timing was off for the matinee at the King and she’d be dropping Lizzy off between one-thirty and two.” He bent his knees and rubbed his pelvis against her bottom. “Wanna see what I can do in ten minutes?”

  She really did, and that scared her. “Tempting as the prospect sounds, I think I’ll pass.”

  He pressed a kiss against the side of her neck. “Are you sure? Speedy doesn’t necessarily have to mean we sacrifice quality. It can still be fun—”

  The front door banged open and the house was suddenly filled with the sound of children’s voices.

  “Then again, it could be tough trying to explain what my pants are doing down around my ankles,” he said dryly and stepped back.

  Veronica laughed. “Not to mention what Aunt Ronnie’s doing with juice can rings on her butt. Obviously you didn’t check out the state of the countertop before you made your proposition.”

  “Yeah, right.” He gave her a get-real look. “A white-glove inspection was not real high on my list of priorities.” He stepped over to the table and fit his laptop in its leather case, then zipped it up. Plucking it off the table, he came back and brushed his thumb over her cheekbone. “Just so you know, I’m not packing up my marbles because I was denied the opportunity for sex.”

  “But you’re taking them home anyhow?” She ought to be relieved, but part of her mourned seeing him go.

  “It’s either that or give an anatomy lesson that Marissa might object to her kiddies learning. Not to mention what my bro—”

  He cut himself off, and the odd look that crossed his face piqued Veronica’s curiosity. She didn’t have an opportunity to satisfy it, however, for Lizzy, Dessa, and Riley clattered into the kitchen with Marissa not far behind, and when she turned back from greeting them Coop was disappearing up the back stairs.

  Chaos reigned for a while after that, but eventually all the news concerning the children’s sleepover had been rehashed and reenacted, and Marissa packed up her brood and left for home. Lizzy went upstairs, and a short while later, Veronica girded her loins and set out after her. She’d put off discussing Lizzy’s situation far too long already, and in good conscience she could procrastinate no longer.

  But she sure didn’t look forward to it. How did one talk to a little girl about the death of her mother, when the entire town was saying her father was the one responsible for it?

  Pausing outside Lizzy’s door, Veronica drew a deep breath, blew it out, then tapped for admittance. She half hoped Lizzy had dozed off after her big night out, knowing from experience that sleep wasn’t exactly the order of the evening at the annual VFW overnighter.

  Her cowardice got exactly what it deserved when Lizzy promptly threw open the door. Exhaustion flew scarlet flags in her cheeks and her eyes looked overbright, but she danced in place with almost manic alertness. “Hi, Aunt Ronnie! I’m playing with my Barbies. You wanna play with me?”

  “Sure.” Berating herself for cravenly grabbing the excuse to put off the dreaded talk a few moments longer, Veronica took her time perusing the selection of dolls. “Point me to the Drill Sergeant Barbie. I’m in the mood to make Ken clean a few latrines.”

  “I don’t got one of those,” Lizzy said. “But you can play with this one.” She extended a doll that was decked out head to foot in pink. “She’s my fave-rit.”

  “Aw, Lizzy. Have I told you lately what a sweetheart you are?” Accepting the proffered doll, Veronica sat cross-legged on the bed and spent a few minutes divesting Barbie of her pink apparel, then dressing her in a gossamer dress and searching for the proper accessories to trick her out. Eventually, though, she’d fluffed the doll’s skirt and settled her in her pink Barbie-mobile. Drawing a calming breath, she looked at her niece.

  “I owe you an apology.”

  The little girl looked up with bright interest. “You do? What fo
r?”

  “For putting off talking to you about your mama and daddy for so long.”

  Lizzy stilled and the brightness left her eyes. “I don’t wanna talk about Mama.”

  Veronica didn’t blame her. But she had to wonder if her niece had talked to anyone about Crystal’s murder. “Losing a mother is terrible for anyone,” she said, slowly feeling her way. “But I imagine it must’ve been doubly tough for you because you lost your daddy at the same time, and I’d like to talk a little about how you’re doing.”

  Lizzy looked away. “Doin’ fine.” Her tone was patently unencouraging.

  “I’m glad to hear that. It must make you sad, though.”

  “Uh-huh. But not alla time. Sometimes Mama…” Lizzy’s voice trailed off, and her narrow little shoulder hitched with faux indifference. The look she shot Veronica seemed to be equal parts unhappiness, defiance, and apprehension.

  “Sometimes your mama could be really hard to live with,” Veronica supplied gently.

  Lizzy nodded.

  “Yet she was still your mama, and you loved her and didn’t want anything bad to happen to her.”

  “Yes.” Nodding harder, Lizzy inched closer.

  Veronica reached out and hugged Lizzy to her side. “It’s okay to miss her one minute and be almost glad she’s gone the next. There are no right or wrong emotions in a situation like this. I grew up with your mama, and I have those mixed up feelings myself.” She held her niece tightly and rubbed her cheek against the top of Lizzy’s head. “I bet some of the kids at school say mean things to you about it.”

  Lizzy raised her head. “They say my daddy killed my mama,” she said indignantly. “Daddy didn’t do that! He’d never do sumpin’ like that.”

  “The police think he did, Lizagator.”

  “They’re wrong! My daddy told me he didn’t do it. He swored on the Bible.”

  Veronica didn’t know what to say to such conviction, so she simply snuggled Lizzy closer. A single conversation wasn’t going to change or improve Lizzy’s situation, but she was glad they were having it. All in all, it was going better than she’d dared hope. The hardest part—broaching the subject of Crystal’s death with her niece—was done. Now she and Lizzy merely had to discuss the future, and that was a cakewalk in comparison. “You realize we’re eventually going to have to leave Fossil, don’t you?”

  “No!” Lizzy ripped herself free and turned wild eyes on Veronica. “We can’t leave—we have to be here!”

  Veronica blinked at the panic-edged vehemence in her niece’s voice, then pulled herself together in order to assemble an explanation Lizzy’d understand. “I’m not talking about immediately,” she said soothingly. “But sooner or later we’ll have to move to Seattle. My work—”

  Lizzy leaped to her feet and faced Veronica with her little hands fisted at her sides. “You can do your work here. We can’t leave.”

  “Honey, I realize starting a new school can be difficult, but the upside is no one will know about your parents, so you won’t have to worry about kids saying mean things to you. We’ll fix you a room at my house that’s every bit as nice as this one, and although I know no one can replace Dessa, I promise you’ll make other friends.”

  “I don’t care about that stuff!” Tears poured down Lizzy’s cheeks and she trembled from head to foot as she faced off with her aunt. “We have to be here so my daddy can find me when he comes back!”

  “Oh, baby.” She reached for Lizzy, but Lizzy sidestepped, and Veronica’s hands dropped to her sides. “I don’t think your daddy is coming back.”

  “He is so! He told me. He said he hadda go because the au-tor—the auth-or—”

  “The authorities?”

  Lizzy nodded vigorously. “Uh-huh. Those people had made a mistake and wanted to put him in jail for what happened to Mama. But he promised he’d be back for me! He promised.”

  It went a long way toward explaining Lizzy’s calmness during the series of upheavals in her life. She was anything but calm now, however. Unable to bear seeing her shake and cry so hard, Veronica reached out and hauled her into her arms. “Shh-shh,” she crooned, rocking her and stroking her hair. “Don’t cry. We’ll straighten it out. Somehow or another, we’ll straighten it all out.”

  Just how they’d do that, though, she hadn’t a clue.

  Coop’s concentration was shot to hell, and finally giving up the attempt to write, he shut his computer down and put it away. He couldn’t believe how close he’d come this afternoon to giving the game away.

  He rocked his wooden chair back on two legs and stared up at his bedroom ceiling. Man, what was it about Veronica that made him so careless? Caution used to be his middle name, but he’d been screwing up right and left ever since he’d met her. When it’d occurred to him down in the kitchen that Eddie might not appreciate him exposing Lizzy to the earthier facts of life, he hadn’t thought twice about nearly saying so.

  Coop whispered a curse. That was his problem right there, of course—he hadn’t thought. He felt comfortable with Ronnie, and that wasn’t good. Not if it meant shooting his mouth off without first thinking things through. He had to quit letting his dick do all his brainwork for him and start behaving like the trained professional he once was.

  The door at the base of the attic stairs suddenly banged open and soft footsteps sounded on the wooden steps. On immediate alert, Coop automatically cataloged the weapon potential in the ordinary items around him as he silently eased the chair back on all four legs and rose to his feet. An instant later he recognized Ronnie’s black hair as her head crested the balustrade. Against all reason, and contrary to everything he’d just been telling himself, he relaxed his vigilance, happy to see her.

  Veronica, on the other hand, looked anything but relaxed when she reached the top of the stairs. “I’ve got big trouble.”

  Bridging the distance between them, he reached out to guide her to the chair he’d just abandoned. “Sit down,” he invited and pressed on her shoulders until she collapsed onto the seat. He circled the narrow table that doubled as his desk and swung around a mismatched chair. Straddling it, he crossed his arms over the top rail and propped his chin atop them. “Tell papa all about it.”

  “Well, see, that seems to be my problem,” she said, scowling at him. “Parenting. If we were in school and this were a pop quiz, I’d get a big fat D-minus at it.” She related her conversation with Lizzy, then jumped up to pace the narrow confines of Coop’s room. He turned in his chair and watched color fluctuate in her cheeks as she stalked from table, to bed, to the top of the stairs, and back again.

  “I thought I was starting to get a handle on it.” She laughed harshly. “What a joke—I didn’t even see what direction the problem was coming from. But what am I supposed to tell her?” she demanded hotly. “That her father, who’s wanted for the murder of her mother, will indeed be back for her? That he’s a smart man, so don’t worry about it, darling, because he’ll find us at my place in Seattle?” She thrust her fingers through her hair, scraping it off her forehead. “I certainly can’t tell her that it’ll be a cold day in hell before I allow him to take her away.”

  Indignation on his brother’s behalf straightened Coop from his indolent slouch, but he kept his tone even. “You think he’d hurt her?”

  “Not physically. Eddie was an excellent parent who probably loved Lizzy more than anything in the world. But he ceased to be a blue-ribbon dad the day he became a fugitive. What does he plan to do, dye her hair to change her appearance? Teach her to answer to a new name every few months? She’ll learn to lie and be constantly moved from place to place to stay one step ahead of the law. What kind of life is that for a kid?”

  Coop hated to admit it, but she had a point. Still. “Are you one hundred percent convinced her father is the killer?”

  “Of course not. But the fact that he ran is certainly damning. You have to admit that’s a tough detail to work around.”

  “Maybe he panicked when he found hims
elf taking the rap for someone else’s deed.”

  “Like who?” she demanded skeptically. “The One-Armed Man?”

  “From what I hear, he’s far from the only guy your sister had something going with. I don’t mean to speak ill of the dead, but folks say she got around.”

  Veronica flopped back down in her chair. “Yeah, she was no angel. But as far as I know, the only person she had a genuine beef with was Eddie.” She blew out a breath, fluttering a glossy strand of hair that had flopped over her eyebrow. “Which brings us full circle.” Then an arrested expression crossed her face.

  He straightened in his seat. “What?”

  “Huh?”

  “You just had a look in your eye.”

  “Did I?” She shrugged. “It’s called frustration.”

  “No, it was something else.” And he wanted to know what.

  But Veronica’s expression had smoothed out and become unreadable. “You’re imagining things.”

  No, he wasn’t. She knew something, or suspected something, or had thought of something—he’d swear to it.

  But much as he longed to pursue it, he’d let it go. For now. Otherwise, he was pretty sure she’d just turn stubborn on him.

  Sooner or later, though—and he intended it to be sooner—he planned to find out if whatever caused that brief look on her face might help to clear Eddie.

  15

  AN ICY WIND CUT THROUGH VERONICA’S JACKET AS she hurried across the street to the Tonk. When she finally reached the tavern door, however, she hesitated. Aside from Tuesday, when she’d filled in for Sandy, she’d actually managed to get to bed at a reasonable hour each night this past week. She ought to feel well rested. The only problem was…she hadn’t gotten any more sleep.