Head Over Heels

by Susan Andersen

  He watched Veronica blink at his abrupt change of subject, but she didn’t give him the load of grief that she could have over it. Instead, she walked over and touched gentle fingertips to his forearm. “I’m sorry,” she said, all earnest green eyes as she looked up at him. “I know you must be terribly disappointed Troy’s innocent. And it’s not so much that I was rooting for it not to be him, I just had a tough time reconciling the rendezvous at the Royal Hawaiian with the way he appears to feel about his wife. He treats her so deferentially, so carefully, which seem to me the traits of a man trying very hard to get back into a woman’s good graces. It simply didn’t seem compatible with sneaking off for a quickie with my sister.”

  “Yeah, he’s a goddamn prince.”

  Her understanding smile and consoling little there-there pat on the arm made him want to snarl.

  “Just out of curiosity,” she said, “how did Rocket eliminate him?”

  “He tracked Jacobson’s movement from Fossil on the day Crystal left for Hawaii. It turns out,” he admitted glumly, “he was in Spokane talking to the people in charge of designing new labels for the apple juice and applesauce divisions of his enterprise.”

  Her smile was so empathetic and on his side that Coop suddenly found himself back on the previous topic. “You know, it isn’t such a crazy idea.”

  She blinked in confusion. “Troy getting new labels?”

  “No. Us getting married.” Her fingers fell away from his arm, and he reached for her hand. “It’s not all that off the wall,” he insisted. “People who’ve known each other a damn sight shorter than you and I have get hitched all the time and make it work. And building a relationship slowly is sure as hell no guarantee. I once knew a Marine who was engaged to a woman for seven years—and they ended up in divorce court eight months after they finally got married.”

  “Coop—”

  He squeezed her fingers. “Do you love me, Ronnie?”

  “You know I do.”

  “And God knows I love you. We’ve lived together, more or less, for over a month now.”

  “We’ve lived in the same house for over a month. We’ve been lovers for five minutes, cosmically speaking. It’s a small distinction, I know—but telling.”

  “Whatever. I’m trying to make a case here.”

  “Oh, well, then, excuse me.” She gave an imperious wave. “Continue.”

  “Thank you.” He took heart from the fact that her gaze was full of bright-eyed attention. “Although I know Eddie’s name will ultimately be cleared and he’ll reclaim Lizzy, I don’t know when that will happen. If we got married, we could provide a stable home for her until that time comes.” Okay, that’s weak. He waited for her to point out that they could do that without marriage—that they were, in fact, doing it now.

  But she didn’t. She simply laid her fingertips directly over his heart on his thermal-T-shirt-clad chest, looked up at him with those gray-green eyes, and said, “Tell me what you want to do with the rest of your life.”

  “Live with you.”

  “You know what I’m asking.”

  Yeah, he did. He also knew this was the time to tell her about his writing. He could put her mind to rest once and for all, and if the soft expression on her face was any indication, his marriage proposal was in the bag.

  But dammit, he needed his own mind put to rest, and well she knew it. “What difference does it make, Ronnie? If you care for me the way you say you do—”

  Her hand dropped to her side. “Can you possibly be any more unfair?” she demanded hotly. “You want me to agree to marriage, which is a huge step, but I’m supposed to do it blind?”

  “Why not? It seems to me that none of this would even be an issue if you loved me as much as you say you do.” He thrust his hands in his pockets to keep from touching her. “So, what will it take to make me acceptable in your eyes? What if I told you I make six figures? Would you marry me then?”

  “My reservations have nothing to do with money!”

  “No?” he demanded cynically. “That’s sure as hell what it sounds like to me.”

  “Damn you, Coop, it’s about a lot of things—your insecurities, my insecurities, the way we were raised, and the knee-jerk manner with which we both still seem to react to that. It’s about my need not to be my mother, and your need for me not to be your mother. God!” she shoved her hair back off her face, drew a deep breath, and blew it out. “Money is not the issue. I can support myself. But I need to know you possess some kind of ambition. I need that.” Staring at him, she pressed the heel of her hand against her forehead as if to contain a headache trying to pound its way out. “More than that, though, I need you to trust me.”

  “Funny. That’s what I need, too.”

  Her gaze went abruptly shuttered. “No, what you want is complete compliance. I’m supposed to take a blind leap of faith, while you keep your fistful of secrets clutched to your chest. God forbid you should make any sacrifices of your own.”

  She had a valid point, and all he needed to do was meet her halfway. A good marriage, he imagined, was based largely on compromise. He opened his mouth to tell her how he’d made his living the past five years.

  And heard himself say instead, “So. Do you wanna get married, or what?”

  Betrayal flashed in her eyes, but was gone almost before the pain of causing it registered in his gut. “Or what,” she said with flat distaste and took a huge step back as if to distance herself. “I can’t do this anymore,” she said. “To hell with the sale of the Tonk and the house—I don’t have to actually, physically be here for either of them. And I refuse to keep going around in circles with you about this.”

  Her chin rose, and the look in her eyes caused Coop’s stomach to do a slow, greasy slide. “I give up,” she said. “I’m packing up Lizzy and going back to Seattle.”

  Veronica closed the bedroom door behind her a few moments later and stumbled over to her bed. Sinking down to sit on its edge, she wrapped her arms around her stomach and bent at the waist, rocking mindlessly. Oh, God, oh, God, she hurt. She hadn’t known such pain existed.

  How was it possible to have fallen so fast and so utterly for a man she barely knew? She’d always thought that if she fell in love, it would be with a career man—someone smooth and diplomatic who shared her interests. A tough-as-nails ex-Marine lacking all capacity to trust never once entered into the picture. And a big, physical man who made her feel all hot and jittery and out of control sexually had sure never been part of the plan, either.

  A light knock sounded at her door, and Veronica straightened, hating herself for the hope that sprang to life in her breast. “Yes?”

  “Aunt Ronnie? Can I come in?”

  She slumped. “Yes, of course.” Then, not wanting her niece to suspect the adult in charge of her was an emotional wreck, she pulled herself together and plastered a smile on her lips.

  The door opened and Lizzy poked her head into the room. “Can I watch TV until dinner? My homework is done.”

  Veronica nodded. “Sure. But come in for a minute first.”

  Her niece stepped into the room, but gave her a wary look. “Are you okay? You look kinda…funny.”

  She nodded, unable to give actual voice to the lie, then patted the bed and waited until Lizzy settled herself next to her. “Honey, listen. I know you don’t want to leave here, but we’re going to have to.”

  “No!” Lizzy stiffened and made a move to climb to her feet, but Veronica reached out and grasped her hand. She stroked her free hand down the smooth fall of Lizzy’s shiny brown hair, taking comfort in its warm, silky texture.

  “I know you’re worried that your daddy won’t be able to find you, but your Uncle, um…James”—pain splintered through her—“will still be right here in town to let him know where you are. And even if he weren’t,” she said more strongly, “your father knows where I live.” Lizzy didn’t need to know that Eddie had better not show his face at her door without a full pardon in his hand.
/>   “But—”

  “I’m sorry, honey, I know it’s difficult to start a new school midterm, but I have a business that’s going to fall apart if I don’t give it some attention.”

  “‘Gotta put food on the table for my little daisy blossom,’” Lizzy said glumly.

  “What?”

  “That’s what my daddy useta say when I didn’t want him to go away on a business trip.” Her childish voice deepened. “‘I have to, sweetheart. I gotta put food on the table for my little daisy blossom.’” Then her expression lightened. “Maybe Uncle Coop can come with us.”

  Veronica’s dry swallow felt as if she’d swallowed ground glass. “No, he needs to stay here to take care of the Tonk until it sells. But you can come back and stay with him on some of the weekends, if you want.” She forced her lips into another smile that she could only hope didn’t look as false as it felt. “Wouldn’t that be nice?”

  It broke her heart all over again when Lizzy’s shoulders sagged in defeat.

  “I guess,” her niece said morosely.

  “Déjà vu,” Coop muttered cynically when, having closed down the Tonk for the night, he found himself outside Veronica’s bedroom door. “Haven’t you played out this scene before, bubba?”

  Yet still he stood there in the dark hallway, one hand pressed against the panels as if he could feel Ronnie’s warm heart beating on the other side of the cold wood. Half of him wanted to ease open the door, let himself in, and find a way to resolve this awful distance between them.

  The other half was pissed as hell to once again be in a position where he had to beg for the scraps of someone’s affection.

  The soup that he and Ronnie’d had so much fun making together this afternoon might as well have been fish paste. It had taken everything he had to sit there at the kitchen table with her and Lizzy and act as if nothing were wrong. Swallowing had been beyond him, and he had the feeling Veronica hadn’t fared much better.

  And come to think of it, Little Bit hadn’t appeared all that perky herself. She’d pushed her spoon around her bowl with about as much enthusiasm as the adults had shown. Not one of them had managed to swallow more than a bite or two.

  He reached for the doorknob. Dammit, this was crazy. He was going in there and waking Ronnie up to hash this out once and for all.

  And say what, exactly? His hand dropped to his side. Because the plain truth was, he wasn’t willing to budge from his position and neither was Veronica. So what the fuck was there left to talk about? Coop turned away from the door.

  It was simply too soon, he told himself. So he’d do the smart thing and let it go for tonight. Once the two of them had had a chance to sleep on it, they’d talk.

  Things were bound to look much brighter in the morning.

  The only thing that looked brighter was the weather. Sunshine poured through the windows when Coop came downstairs the next morning, and the cold that had lately permeated the exterior walls no longer emanated its pervasive chill. The temperature was definitely on the rise. As he poured himself a cup of coffee from the half-full pot on the coffeemaker’s hot plate, he heard Veronica’s voice in the living room. Taking his cup, he made a beeline for the doorway.

  “I realize it’s late notice, but I really do need to see Mr. Peavy as soon as possible,” Veronica was saying as he walked into the room. She looked at him, then turned her back. “Lizzy Davis and I are moving to Seattle, but I thought I’d better first discuss the legalities of taking her with Mr. Peavy.”

  Coop went cold. She was leaving? Without so much as attempting to work anything out, she planned to just pack up her toys and go home?

  “Yes, I’ll hold.”

  He set his mug on a little gilt table and took the giant stride that brought him within an inch of her back. He wanted to reach out and spin her around to face him, but didn’t quite trust himself to touch her.

  “Go away, Cooper,” she said in a gritty little voice without turning to face him.

  “The hell I will. Why are you running?”

  That spun her around and her eyes sparked with temper. “Why am I running? Why do you think? You’re an intelligent man—put your mind to it, and I’m sure you’ll come up with a reason or ten.” She yanked the telephone receiver, which had slipped beneath her chin, back up to her mouth. “He’ll give up his lunch hour for me?” she said to the person on the other end of the line. “Thank you—I’ll be there at noon on Monday, then. I truly appreciate this.”

  Coop hadn’t moved when she turned from recradling the headpiece, and she brushed against his body. The touch reverberating right down to his toes, he stared down at her. “I can’t believe you’re going to cut and run for the city.”

  “Believe it,” she said flatly. “In fact, I’m driving over this morning so I can talk to someone about transferring Lizzy to a new school. Tomorrow I’ll clear out a room for her at my place.”

  No. He felt hammered by all the emotions crowding in on him, clamoring for attention. She couldn’t just leave. She couldn’t simply turn her back and waltz away. “You’re taking Lizzy out of school today?”

  “No, Marissa will take her for the weekend. I’ll be back on Monday for my appointment with Neil Peavy, then I’m making arrangements for a permanent move.”

  “And you’re going to just walk away from what you and I have without the least discussion?”

  “What’s left to say, Coop? I need something from you that you’re not willing to give me, and you seem to need the same thing from me. This hurts too much. We need to put some distance between us before we end up tearing each other apart.”

  Oh, that was good. Hands jammed deep into his pockets, he stared down at her. “Too late,” he said.

  Then he turned and walked away.

  23

  RAIN MISTED THE WINDOWS OF VERONICA’S SEATTLE condo as she let herself in shortly after three that afternoon. With a dejected sigh, she set her purse on the antique Jenny Lind chest in the tiny foyer, walked into the living room, and looked around.

  She’d always been inordinately proud of her place. She’d worked hard to earn the down payment to purchase it and had patiently searched the past few years for just the right pieces to furnish it. Yet today, instead of providing her with a sense of homecoming, her pride and joy left her empty.

  But then, there’d been no shine to any aspect of her day. The drive from Fossil, which ordinarily she’d swear she could do in her sleep, had seemed to take forever. Seattle traffic had been a bollixed-up mess, the Puget Sound weather was its usual unrelentingly gray drizzle, and life in general just sucked.

  Oh, perfect. A one-woman pity fest to round out my day. That certainly demonstrates admirable strength of character. What truly sucked, she admonished herself, was her attitude. Neither the traffic nor the weather were any worse than usual—she’d simply gotten spoiled living in eastern Washington, where the sun shone much more frequently and there were fewer idiot drivers per capita.

  She laughed shortly, the sound harsh in the empty apartment. Having Fossil emerge favorably in a comparison to Seattle was certainly a wild twist. If she were in a better frame of mind, she’d no doubt appreciate the irony.

  Then the bravado that she’d been shoring herself up with disappeared, and she sank into the leather love seat in front of the condo’s gas fireplace. Twisting her fingers together in her lap, she gazed blindly at the framed Frye Museum reproduction of a Pre-Raphaelite painting that hung above the mantel.

  Who was she trying to kid, anyway? The truth was, having strength of character simply wasn’t all that high on her list of priorities today. She’d stopped at the neighborhood elementary school to discuss Lizzy’s transfer before coming home, and the women who worked there had been friendly and helpful. Other than that, her day had been one long blur of pain.

  How could a man she’d met barely a month ago have assumed so much importance in her life? And how on earth could breaking up with him, when they’d barely had time to form a relationship in t
he first place, hurt and hurt and then hurt some more? Try as she might, she couldn’t foresee any relief from this agony.

  Wanting answers was pointless, as well. There just weren’t any answers she could live with. The knowledge made her feel leaden and old. She didn’t want to move, and she didn’t want to talk to anyone. She just wanted to remain right here in front of the cold fireplace until the pain became more bearable.

  Instead, she had to be a grown-up. She’d been thrust in the role of parent, which meant she wasn’t allowed to indulge her desire for a cathartic beating of the breast. Worse, she had to be honest. So try as she might to convince herself that this was her real life, and that her brief, magical sojourn with Coop in the garishly decorated house in Fossil had been the aberration, her heart knew the truth. And it was killing her. The only way she could see to possibly change anything was to move her and Lizzy back here as soon as possible, so they could start re-creating yet another new life together.

  Until then, she didn’t have a prayer of mending this awful ache in her heart.

  “Freakin’ females,” Coop muttered for what felt like the umpteenth time the following Sunday morning. “Nothing but trouble, you ask me. It’s good to have the house all to myself.”

  He’d long ago finished the research he needed to start his new book, and he should’ve begun the first draft by now. And he would have, if life with creatures bearing the double X chromosome hadn’t gotten in his way. But now he had all the time in the world and as much privacy as a man could use to get some pages under his belt. So what if yesterday he’d pissed away the opportunity? One minute he’d had the entire day stretched out in front of him and the next thing he’d known, it was time to go tend the Tonk and he hadn’t accomplished a damn thing. Big deal. Today was gonna be different. He was planting his butt in the chair and not moving until he had five or six pages written.

  Eight hours later, he shoved back from his computer, swore at the cursor blinking relentlessly on the blank page beneath Chapter One, and stomped downstairs. He needed fuel; that was his problem. He’d get something to eat, then this logjam in his head would clear up.