The Trouble With Coco Monroe

by CC MacKenzie

  “Come and say hello to her,” she instructed a stunned looking Rafe.

  He crouched, delighted when Honey dropped to her butt and offered him a paw.

  “You’re a honey all right.” His dark eyes caught hers as he rubbed the dog’s chest. “She’s a beauty.”

  When he smiled like that it changed his face from intimidating to fabulous.

  Her heart responded by fluttering madly as she led the way down two flights of wide stairs.

  They moved through a causeway constructed of clear glass into the main part of the building. Walls of glass showcased the gardens and the lake lit now by carefully placed up lights among the trees and shrubs.

  His eyes went wide and he blew out a long low whistle.

  “Wow, this place is amazing.”

  “The architect Joshua Erichsen designed it. I love it.”

  She moved into a cavernous open plan area with a circular kitchen placed slap bang in the middle.

  On one side there was a seating area with three comfortable seven-foot sofas in deep velvet the colour of bone, groaning with jewel coloured velvet cushions. Each couch was draped with lightweight cashmere throws, edged with what looked like feathered beads. Very girly, Coco. The plate glass coffee table was the size of a family sedan and held a collection of books on design and a vast glass bowl containing what appeared to be ostrich eggs.

  Glowing in the corner was a futuristic stainless steel wood burner suspended from the ceiling. On the other side of the kitchen consoles was a tempered glass and steel dining table, big enough to sit twelve and surrounded by tall backed dining chairs in jewel coloured suede. The table held two immense six-foot high candlesticks in solid silver. Each one held a candle the size of a football. And in the centre sat a fat glass vase crammed with a stunning arrangement of fragrant flowers in vivid greens and creams with spikes of raspberry. The whole set up might be brutally modern but it was a space made for comfort and relaxing. He could see himself stretched out on one of those sofas reading or even better, having a nice long nap after Sunday lunch. As far as he was concerned the only thing that was missing was a huge wall hung flat screen TV.

  Coco opened a refrigerated food drawer and took out a selection of cheeses.

  She moved to another and set out a platter of fruit.

  “I’m going to have a quick shower and change.” She pointed to him, gave him clear instructions. “Open the wine, and set out the cheese and fruit. Make yourself at home. Explore the other floors. You’ll find the guest wing downstairs, choose whatever bedroom you want.”

  Honey moved to follow her, but she gave a hand signal for the dog to stay.

  Intrigued, Rafe poked around her amazing kitchen.

  It was ruthlessly organised with thick glass worktops, two spacious sinks with weird looking expandable taps and stainless steel appliances. The eight-ringed gas hob told him she was serious about food. She didn’t have a kettle; instead she had a fancy tap that produced boiling water.

  He found a selection of delicate plates of white porcelain in glass cabinets, modern solid silver cutlery in slick drawers and clear Swedish crystal wine glasses. The whole set-up was one of understated luxury.

  With a glass of wine in his hand he took himself on a tour with the St. Bernard for company. And found four spacious bedrooms on the floor below with panoramic views over the lake.

  One had a super king-size bed and he snagged that one. At six foot four he needed all the space he could get.

  As far as he could see the house wasn’t overlooked, no neighbours. He noted the motion sensors that switched on lights, along with the state-of-the-art alarm system. He checked the solid dead bolt locks on the folding floor to ceiling doors and couldn’t help but be impressed. When it came to security, somebody knew what they were doing.

  The en-suite had a fabulous black marble walk-in shower and separate bath in the shape of an egg.

  “Your mistress likes quality, doesn’t she?” Rafe muttered to Honey.

  The dog merely cocked her head and looked at him.

  He’d kept an eye on Coco’s activities from a distance and hadn’t taken an interest in the house. And realised the property was built into the rock in a semi-circle on a hill overlooking the lake.

  Honey gave a soft woof, and made a beeline for the stairs.

  Rafe followed her as the dulcet tones of The Fray whispered from the kitchen.

  When she said a quick shower Coco meant it.

  He received another surprise when he saw a slim woman in bare feet with her back to him.

  Her short hair was damp. She was dressed in cream low-slung velvet yoga pants and a black skinny vest, her tight little bottom wiggling in time to the music.

  “Excuse me...” he began wondering who on earth she was and bobbled the wine glass when she turned around.

  “Yep? Did you find everything you need?”

  He had the strange sensation of sleepwalking towards her.

  The cropped hairstyle opened up Coco’s face.

  Those fabulous violet eyes were enormous now and strangely vulnerable. That mouth seemed wider and softer. Small ears, he’d never really noticed her ears before, hugged her skull. Her naked skin had a sprinkling of pale freckles on her nose and high cheekbones.

  Christ, she looked sixteen instead of twenty-eight.

  For some reason he was terribly upset and he’d absolutely no idea why.

  Hard on the heels of that thought came another reality.

  Who was this woman?

  Rafe realised with something like dismay that he had absolutely no idea.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Coco kept her eyes steady on his and read precisely what she wanted to see.

  Shock.

  At last she’d wrong footed him.

  His dark eyes were full of dazed confusion mingled with alarm.

  In slow motion he lifted his hand to touch her hair.

  She raised a brow.

  “You’re terribly touchy feely these days.”

  Those eyes snapped back into focus.

  She read annoyance; suspicion and an ominous emotion that had a shiver run up her spine.

  “What is this?” he hissed.

  Coco didn’t pretend not to understand him.

  What would be the point?

  The time for games was over.

  And she was thankful that the headache pill she’d taken was beginning to kick in.

  The too tight band around her skull had eased back.

  With a hand that wasn’t quite steady, she poured herself a glass of white wine and moved to a low couch.

  She sat.

  Watching Rafe carefully over the rim of her glass, she took a sip.

  He helped himself to food and sat opposite her with the coffee table between them.

  And she realised he needed space and wondered why it bothered her so much.

  His mouth looked forbidding as those eyes bored into hers.

  “This is the real me, Rafael.”

  Those incredible eyes widened.

  “Since when and why?”

  Six months, but she wasn’t about to tell him that or why.

  Staring into her wine, she wondered why this was so hard.

  “By changing my appearance I can go about my business without anyone, especially the press, being any the wiser. The wigs are a pain at times.”

  Looking very fierce he leaned forward. “Are you telling me you’ve been living a lie?”

  Stung by his attitude her eyes clashed with his.

  “No. I’ve danced to my father’s tune for the last time. I’ve been living my own life for quite some time.”

  Colour drained out of his face.

  With exaggerated care, he placed his wine glass on the table between them.

  “What the hell are you talking about?” he demanded in a tone that pressed one of her hot buttons.

  Annoyed she ignored the jumpy nerves in her throat.

  This wasn’t going the way she’d long env
isioned.

  She’d expected surprise certainly, but not this antipathy from him.

  Her chin came up.

  She’d done nothing wrong, broken no laws.

  Coco kept the tone icy and her voice firm.

  “I have a life totally separate from Monroe Industries and being Charles Monroe’s daughter.” She rose. Rubbing her arms she turned from him looking out into the softly lit gardens and the darkness beyond. “He holds the purse strings, he thinks. I begged him to let me do something worthwhile within the company, but no.”

  She spun and kept her eyes on his.

  Every time she’d tried to explain to her father that she wanted to be treated as an equal, be independent, he’d become so angry or impatient that she’d kept quiet. No one, who knew her, would believe she was a cowering child around one man. Her father. She might argue and fight for what she believed in. But in her whole life, not once had she openly defied him. Until now.

  Plus something her father had never understood was that she hated, hated, being put on display in the spotlight for Monroe Industries. She hated the gossip. And she hated the circus that her life had become.

  Now her stomach was beginning to burn. She rubbed a hand across her gut as it spasmed.

  For almost a decade she’d had no choice. More like lacked the courage to stand up for herself because she didn’t want to disappoint the man she loved more than life she admitted now. Guilt that she should have these sentiments about her own father, warred with a righteous anger and Coco’s stomach clenched too tight.

  “He patted me on the head and told me business is no place for a woman.” She permitted the hurts, the stings, to surface. “Apparently, I’m great for the Monroe brand and he’s proud of me.” Now she looked Rafe dead in the eye. “It’s never been enough.”

  Those dark, dark eyes simply blazed into hers.

  “So why are you telling me now?”

  Folding her arms, she gave him wide eyes.

  “Who forced himself into my life and my home this evening?”

  “Okay, okay.” He ran an agitated hand through his hair. “Are you going to tell me what’s going on?”

  Coco sank to the edge of the couch and picked up her glass.

  “I got to know Olivia last year.” Staring into her wine she bit her lip. “She’s a lovely girl. Her husband’s been abusing her since they married. Before that he was charming and loving.” She lifted her head, tried not to notice how intent his gaze was as he studied her. “His cruelty got worse after she had their baby. He’s jealous of the child. She was desperate, Rafe.” She studied the liquid in her glass, cleared her throat and took a deep breath. “And we, Louise and me, came up with a plan.”

  She flicked a look at him.

  He wasn’t angry.

  But his eyes were thoughtful now as they stayed on hers.

  “Where are they?”

  For a long moment she stared at him as her brain raced.

  He would never do anything to endanger Olivia, but still...

  In his expression she read a ruthless intent that made her shiver.

  “At Ethan’s estate in Scotland.” And she winced as his dark eyes went like tennis balls. She’d used her brother’s holiday home without his permission. Then deciding she’d rather be hung for a sheep than a lamb, she continued, “With Samson and a team of bodyguards.”

  Samson, her bodyguard for ten years, technically worked for Rafe.

  Closing her eyes, the expected explosion didn’t materialise.

  Opening one eye to look at him, Coco was relieved to see a grim smile on his face.

  He leaned back, placed a foot on his knee and nodded.

  “At least you had the common sense to involve him.”

  “Gee thanks,” she responded drily, then cocked her head. “How do you know I’ve come to the attention of Kandinsky?”

  Rafe placed a cube of cheese on a cracker and popped it in his mouth.

  All the while his eyes never left her face.

  “A police contact tipped me off, your name was mentioned.”

  “But, how did he...”

  His raised finger stopped her.

  “That’s all the information you’re going to get. I protect my sources.”

  Okay, fair enough.

  Coco might be misguided, but she’d acted purely out of concern for another and Rafe had to admire her.

  She was more like her father than she realised.

  Charles Monroe had the same light of battle in his eye when he decided on a path.

  For their continued safety Olivia and her son would need to be moved immediately.

  Another thought entered his mind.

  “What have you been doing with your time with this new life you’ve been leading?”

  She gave a jerk of narrow shoulders and sent him her butter-would-not-melt look.

  “This and that. Nothing you’d be interested in.”

  No?

  Well, that was for him to decide now, wasn’t it?

  She’d thrown him a curve, a couple of curves this evening and she knew it.

  He couldn’t take his eyes off her face.

  It was like looking at a completely different person.

  As a rule Coco didn’t trowel make-up on her face.

  But tonight it was naked and made her appear terribly vulnerable and young.

  And he couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen her in casual clothes, it must have been years ago when she was in her teens.

  The low-slung velvet pants clung to her narrow hips and that skinny top didn’t even reach her waist.

  He had an almost uncontrollable urge to press his mouth against the smooth flat stomach to whorl his tongue into that cute little belly button.

  She wasn’t wearing a bra either.

  And he wondered why he was shocked that she seemed perfectly comfortable with her soft breasts swaying as she moved.

  They were beautiful, not too big and not too small.

  Just right for the size of his hands.

  His fingers tingled and he ordered himself to get a grip.

  But the dark circles under her eyes told him she was exhausted.

  He studied that belligerent chin, those flashing eyes, and recognised an inherent wariness.

  She didn’t trust him.

  And he had to admit it hurt.

  It stung.

  How the hell had they’d grown so far apart over the years?

  She knew his history. Didn’t she understand how much he owed her father? That he hadn’t been able to lay a finger on her until he’d proved himself to not only Charles Monroe, but to Rafael Cavendish? That he wasn’t a man lacking character, flawed and weak like his father?

  Well, he’d have plenty of time to show her since they’d be joined at the hip for the foreseeable future.

  No point in making a scene tonight.

  She looked ready to drop.

  And he had lots to think about.

  She might be talking big and bad, but her underlying emotional fragility shook him.

  This was not a Coco he recognised.

  As for panic attacks?

  He couldn’t believe it.

  The Coco Monroe he knew waltzed through life without a care in the world. Adored and loved by her father and her brothers. And by him, a little voice whispered.

  He did love her and was well on his way to adoring her, too.

  He’d carried deep feelings for her even when she’d bitterly disappointed him by embracing a purely bohemian lifestyle.

  He believed in discipline and self control in all things while Coco loved to party.

  Although he had to admit that these days she remained sober.

  As she sat there just staring at him with those big eyes she looked like an innocent, an untouched virgin, which just went to show looks were definitely deceptive.

  Her sexual exploits with various men had hit the headlines over the years. They’d burned like acid in his gut only hardening his attitude
towards her.

  Now, a feeling of immense pride in her rose in his heart.

  She’d unselfishly helped a person in need. And okay, she’d put herself in the firing line, but it was obvious she had absolutely no idea who she was dealing with.

  Sergei Kandinsky was more than dangerous.

  From what his contact told him the man was a few cents short of a dollar, with a hair trigger temper and wild mood swings. And that made him unpredictable, which meant Rafe would need to make certain he never, ever got his hands on Coco.

  Now frustration with her rose again.

  How the hell did she manage to get herself mixed up in this stuff?

  If it wasn’t one thing, it was another.

  But in order to do his job he needed to put his mixed feelings about Coco, her behaviour, aside.

  He stood.

  “I’m turning in, it’s been a long day.”

  Without a backward look, he left.

  Lying on the big bed with his back against a silk padded headboard the colour of a milky coffee, Rafe spoke to Charles Monroe on a secure line.

  And filled him in on the details of his plan.

  The man didn’t like it, but what choice did they have?

  “She’ll never forgive us,” Coco’s father told Rafe in a deep throaty growl.

  “Perhaps, but at least she’ll still be breathing.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  “I know I say it every time but I love this view.”

  Looking pretty perky for seven-thirty in the morning Louise gazed dreamily out of the window of Coco’s kitchen. Her dark blonde hair was tied up in a high ponytail. And she’d dressed her lean frame in dark blue designer jeans and a crisp shirt of white cotton.

  Coco grinned as Jezebel scampered around playfully nipping Honey’s paws.

  “You’ve a fabulous view of your own.”

  “Yeah, but the perspective from up here is beautiful. Especially at this time of year with everything in full bloom.”

  “The funds will be released on Tuesday for the new centre,” Coco told her. She sipped her coffee, nibbled on a piece of wholemeal toast.

  Louise nodded. “We managed to get good deal on a second hand people carrier with low mileage, it seats eight.”