She’d awakened in the wee hours every morning to find Cooper either climbing into bed with her or already there—and herself divested of her jammies and in a high state of arousal before she was even fully awake. And Coop hadn’t been satisfied to simply make love to her once and then wander back to his own bed. She’d generally lost count of her orgasms long before he’d climbed out of bed again and gone up to his attic room.
And oh, my, just thinking about it took the wind-chill factor right out of the air.
Spine stiffening, she reached for the knob. That wasn’t what brought her to the Tonk. She liked to think things through, so it hadn’t been from any burning desire to keep Coop in the dark last Saturday that she’d failed to share with him her sudden recollection of a telephone conversation she’d had with Crystal shortly before she left for Scotland. The sudden flash of her sister’s excitement over the champagne treatment she’d received from some guy she’d been seeing had popped unbidden into Ronnie’s mind out of the blue and reminded her that Crystal was no longer around to enjoy the sort of uptown treatment she’d adored. In that moment, Veronica had desired nothing more than an opportunity to mull the memory over in private.
But that was five days ago, and she’d done all the mulling she could stand, so the time had come to talk to Coop. Supposing, of course, he was even still interested. It was just as likely he wouldn’t be, since what she had to report was pretty inconsequential—just a chance remark, hardly earth-shattering news.
And certainly not worth making a special trip to the Tonk for. Stepping inside, Veronica paused for a moment to appreciate the irony while she soaked up a little of the Tonk’s warmth. This place had always represented her worst nightmare, yet lately she found herself inventing feeble excuses to drop by.
She located Coop behind the bar, listening to something a patron said while he assembled a drink. As she watched, he threw back his head and laughed, and all the moisture in her mouth dried up.
Oh, boy. She was in big trouble. She kept thinking this attraction between them would lessen, but so far it’d only grown worse.
Not that she planned to let it get out of control or anything. She was an adult—she could handle it. Squaring her shoulders, Veronica strode over to the bar.
“Hey, there,” she said as she climbed up on a recently abandoned stool.
“Hey, yourself.” Coop smiled at her and leaned across the bar as if he meant to kiss her. When Veronica jerked back, his face went blank. Too blank, and she had the distinct impression he was displeased with her.
It bothered her that she cared. It was his problem, not hers, so it shouldn’t matter. It wasn’t as if she would change her actions even if she could. She barely knew how she felt about this relationship; she certainly wasn’t about to put it on display for the Tonk’s clientele. Particularly not when she’d noticed that Darlene Starkey was here again. One public kiss, and the entire town would have an opinion on her relationship with Cooper before she’d managed to form one herself.
“Get you something to drink?” Coop’s voice, cutting into her thoughts, was clipped and aloof.
Veronica shifted on her stool, wishing she could redo the last few minutes, handle it differently so Coop wouldn’t be angry with her.
That she desired to placate his male ego at all made her feel defensive. “No,” she replied stiffly. “Thanks. I just dropped by to talk to you for a few minutes, but obviously it wasn’t one of my brighter ideas.” She slid off the stool. “We can talk another time.” It was a safe bet that wouldn’t be later tonight. Somehow she doubted Coop would be sneaking into her bed after this.
“Wait.” He reached across the bar and stayed her with one large hand, gently pinning her much smaller one to the bar. “Don’t go.”
Veronica gave an experimental tug and discovered that she was unlikely to be released without a struggle. She leaned closer to him over the bar. “I can’t do the public affection thing,” she said in a low voice. “I’m sorry if that angers you, but I won’t have the entire town speculating about what’s going on between us.”
“I know. I thought for a minute you were ashamed of me, or at least ashamed of what we—”
“No! But you have to understand how it would look. You work in the family tavern and you live in my house—”
“And kissing you over the bar could start up a whole slew of rumors. I get it.” He gave her hand a gentle shake. “So have a glass of wine or something, and just keep me company for a while.” His fingertips stroked down the back of her hand to the ends of her fingers as he released her. He met her gaze levelly. “Please.”
She didn’t think he was a guy who put himself in the position of supplicant easily, and she climbed back up on the stool. “I’d love a glass of the house white.”
The momentum that had sent her across the street was broken, however, so she didn’t plunge right in about the conversation with Crystal. She divided her attention between watching Cooper and visiting with the various customers who stopped by to say hello to her.
It was amazing to discover she’d actually begun to make friends with a few of the Tonk regulars. As it turned out, though, her bad memories weren’t the whole story. She’d taken the actions of a few and blown them up in her mind until they’d come to represent the entire clientele. She was beginning to believe that there were actually more nice, everyday people who came in here than waitress-groping drunks.
And watching Cooper was just plain impossible to resist. He was too appealing, too compelling, with that big body and fluid grace, with his exotic coloring, and those dark eyes that looked at her as though she held the secrets to his hottest fantasies. It gave her the uneasiest suspicion he was coming to mean more to her than she’d like to admit.
And yet…would that truly be so awful? She didn’t plan to get serious about him or anything. Heck, she hadn’t harbored any burning desire to get serious about any of the other men she’d dated, either, but she’d certainly never had a problem admitting she felt something for them. Was that due to the fact that her usual type was a suit-and-tie-wearing professional, and Coop was anything but? And if so, did he therefore merit less consideration, or respect, or whatever it was she feared she was denying him, simply because he was a different breed of cat? She wasn’t generally such a snob.
Veronica sat a little straighter on her stool. She wasn’t a snob, but she’d been behaving perilously close to one. Well, that attitude stopped now. Overcome by a sudden feeling of freedom, she gave Coop such a brilliant smile that he blinked.
“Wow.” Bracing his forearms on the bar, he leaned into her and returned fire with a killer smile of his own. “What was that for?”
“Hmm?” If she didn’t have so many reservations about public displays of affection, she’d lean forward and take a big, juicy bite out of his luscious lower lip. Instead, she drew back with self-conscious primness and said, “What was what for?”
“That billion-kilowatt smile you just gave me. Tell me what I did to earn it, so I can do it some more.”
Smiling anew, she marveled at the pure happiness that suffused her. “Perhaps,” she said softly, “it was simply for you…being you.”
“Hot damn,” he breathed. “You know, it’s freakin’ slow in here for a Thursday. I wonder if Barbara knows anything about bartending.”
Veronica was actually giving the notion some serious consideration when a man cleared his throat and Coop straightened. It jerked her out of her dream world and back to the realm of good sense. Good grief. It was bad enough that she was probably fooling herself that the Tonk’s patrons hadn’t begun to speculate about her relationship with Cooper. If by some miracle it had escaped their notice, having the two of them race out of here in a red-hot lather would certainly guarantee everyone’s attention. Resisting the urge to touch her arm with her fingertips to see if the heat Coop generated in her every time he came within touching distance would make an audible sizzle, she picked up her wine glass and emptied it in one long gulp.<
br />
Ruddy color stained Coop’s cheekbones, but he gave the man who’d interrupted them a level-eyed look. “What can I get you?” he inquired as he cleared the bar of empties and used a dish towel to wipe up the condensation that had puddled beneath a highball glass.
“Bourbon and seven,” the man said and took the vacant stool next to Veronica’s. He gave her a friendly nod, then immediately turned his attention back to Coop. “Do you remember me?”
Coop paused with the can of 7UP suspended over the drink and studied the younger man. His mouth tipped up in a small, crooked smile. “Sorry—can’t say that I do. Did you recently change your drink? I’m much better at matching liquor with its owner than I am with names.”
“You’ve never made me a drink.”
Coop raised his eyebrows, and the man shook his head impatiently. “I’m sorry—I’m going about this all backwards. I’m David Pessein.” He thrust his hand out and Coop wiped his hand on his towel, then shook it.
“I didn’t really expect that you’d remember me,” David said, “since I was just a kid when we met. But I’ve heard of your exploits for so many years, I feel as if I know you, and when I heard you were working here I just had to stop in to say hello. I moved to Spokane a few years ago, but I’m back visiting my family—so I wanted to come by to tell you how sorry I am about Eddie.”
Veronica blinked. She’d assumed it must be a case of mistaken identity, but Coop abruptly went very, very still, and she shot him a glance. At the look on his face, the warmth that their flirting had wrapped around her heart turned to ice. She knew that blank face. It was the one he wore when he didn’t want his thoughts read.
She swiveled around to face the man at her side. “Eddie Chapman, you mean? Did you know him?”
“Sure. He was probably my closest friend, growing up. And personally, I can’t envision him doing what everyone’s saying he did. Which is another reason I felt so bad about not contacting James here.”
“James?”
“Cooper, I mean.” He turned back to Coop with a laugh. “Sorry about that. Eddie always said it was a losing battle trying to remember to call you that, so what chance do I have to keep your name straight?” He shrugged good-naturedly. “He idolizes you, you know.”
Oh, man. I so don’t want to know the reason behind this. Veronica’s stomach roiled, and her heart tried to pound its way out of her chest. But still she couldn’t prevent herself from asking. “Why?”
He apparently didn’t find it odd that she was the one asking questions, while Cooper merely stood on the other side of the bar regarding them both with a complete lack of expression. “Jeez, where to begin? The Marines was a biggie, of course—that’s a majorly macho deal when you’re a kid. But let’s face it: I think James—I mean Coop—could have been an accountant and still Eddie would have thought he was the biggest, baddest thing to swagger down the pike. That’s just the way little brothers tend to be.”
Brother? Veronica’s gaze swung back to Coop. An icy fist seemed to close around her heart as she waited for his denial—that this man was mistaken, that Coop wasn’t the person Eddie’s friend thought he was.
Instead, Coop looked at her for just a moment before essaying the merest shrug. Then he turned back to Eddie’s friend. “I do vaguely remember you,” he said imperturbably. “It’s good to see you again, David.”
Betrayal screaming through every nerve ending in her body, Veronica got down off her stool and silently walked away.
The minute Coop finished closing down the Tonk for the night, he strode across the street, let himself into the house, and headed straight up the stairs to Veronica’s bedroom. He tried the doorknob and eased out the breath he’d been holding when it turned beneath his hand. But he didn’t have time to give thanks, because the door only opened half an inch before bumping up against an immovable object. She’d braced a chair under the knob.
He rattled the door lightly. “Let me in, Ronnie. We have to talk.”
She didn’t answer, but he knew she was awake. He could feel her on the other side of the door, her hurt and fury nearly a palpable entity.
She hadn’t been alone in her shock over Pessein’s announcement. It had caught him flat-footed, and he wasn’t exactly proud that his first thought had been for his own dilemma now that his anonymity was blown. But then he’d had to watch the blood drain from Veronica’s face before she’d taken off without a word. After her departure, news of his connection to Eddie had taken less than five minutes to make the rounds. It had set the bar abuzz, and considering that the Starkey woman had been present, the odds were good that the entire town would be buzzing about it by morning.
At the moment, though, he didn’t give a damn about any of that. Let them say whatever the hell they wanted. The only person whose opinion really mattered to him was Ronnie.
And apparently she wasn’t talking.
“Let me in.” Stroking his hand down the door’s old wooden panels, he pressed his eye to the crack, but he couldn’t see anything. “I can explain.” Somehow.
He heard her get up and pad toward the door, and his heart gave a thump of relief. He caught only the meagerest glimpse of her tousled hair, then a slice of her face when she reached out for the chair. Even in the dim light, her eye appeared swollen, as if she’d been crying. His gut clenched. He’d never meant to make her cry, but he’d fix it. Somehow, he’d fix it. Catching her eye, he attempted a gentle smile.
She stopped and stared at him for a moment. Then slowly she reached out.
And firmly shut the door in his face.
16
“I DON’T THINK YOU’RE GONNA LIKE THIS, SWEETIE,” Marissa said the next day in her kitchen as she handed Veronica a cup of tea and took the stool next to her at the breakfast bar. “But if Coop is Eddie’s brother, I can almost see why he kept it to himself.”
“How can you say that?” Veronica had come to her friend for comfort, but instead felt betrayed all over again. “You think it’s okay that he made love with me and didn’t bother to tell—”
“Hello!” Marissa snapped erect. “You two had sex? When the hell did this happen?”
“Last Saturday.” Veronica rubbed her hands over her cheeks, looking at Marissa over her fingers. “Well, the first time, anyhow.”
“The first time. How many times are we talking about?”
“Oh, God, Rissa, he screwed my brains out.” And admitting that gave Veronica the same conflicted feeling she’d been battling since last night: a hot-and-cold rush of arousal, balanced against chilled skin and a stomach that pitched queasily. “For five nights, several times a night,” she added, and gave Marissa a very brief rundown of Coop’s middle-of-the-night appearances. “We had sex so many times I lost count. And not once did he say a word about his relationship to Eddie.”
“That pig.”
A small knot in Veronica’s stomach unraveled. “Thank you. That’s more like it.”
“Yes, well, don’t go getting too comfortable,” Marissa advised, giving her a look, “because you’re not off the hook yet yourself.”
“Me? What did I do?” Veronica demanded. “I’m the victim here. I should be getting tea and chocolate.”
“You’ve got your tea and chocolate.” Pushing the plate of Oreos closer, Marissa gave her a stern look. “But you’ve got some explaining to do, girl. I can’t believe you did the wild thing with Cooper Blackstock several times a day for five days straight and never said a word about it to your very best friend!”
“I was going to tell you.” Veronica shifted uncomfortably on her stool. “Only I wanted to get it straight in my own head before I even attempted to explain it out loud.”
“What’s to get straight? Correct me if I’m wrong, but the guy looks like about two hundred pounds of raw sex on the hoof.”
Veronica would have loved to laugh it off, to pooh-pooh the very idea or say indifferently that he was “okay.” But she could feel her eyes glazing over at the mere memory of what Coop could do
with that big body of his. She slapped her hand down on the granite countertop. “That’s not the point.”
“Great sex is always the point,” Marissa said. “Or at least it makes a valid point all its own. And it was great sex, wasn’t it?”
“Oh, yeah,” she agreed without thinking. Then she ruthlessly shoved aside the memory of exactly how great and firmed up her backbone. “But the truth is, until last night I was still denying to myself that we even had a relationship. And as it turns out, my instincts were pretty damn good, weren’t they? Cooper Blackstock and I have nothing. Nada.”
“Because he didn’t tell you he was Eddie’s brother?”
“That, definitely. I know now that he tried to worm information out of me without identifying himself. I feel duped, Rissa, and it hurts. But you know what’s even worse? I have this awful feeling that Cooper is far too much like my father.”
“Oh, sweetie.” Marissa reached over and rubbed her arm. “Surely not. The word around town is that he was a Marine.”
Veronica nodded. “David—the guy who blew his cover—mentioned something about that last night, so I suppose it’s true.”
“Then he can’t be all that lacking in ambition.”
“Except he’s, what—thirty-four, thirty-five years old? Hardly old enough to have retired from the service. So, what’s he doing with his life?”
“It’s possible he’s self-employed like you,” Marissa said neutrally. “Maybe he, too, has a career he temporarily put on hold.”
“Why, though? Mine’s in limbo because both the Tonk and the house need to be sold, and I’m the only one left to handle it. Not to mention that Lizzy needs—” She gave her friend a stricken look. “Lizzy. Oh, my God, Rissa, I’ve been so self-absorbed I entirely forgot this makes him Lizzy’s uncle.” She sat militantly tall on her stool. “That son of a bitch! He’s been living in the same house with her, and he never said a word. Not a single, solitary word to let her know she has someone else she can depend on.” Then she laughed sharply. “Of course, that may actually have been a favor, considering she can’t. Depend on him,” she clarified when Marissa raised an eyebrow at her. Then she scowled. “You know what I mean.”
Head Over Heels Page 18
