“You’ve got a beautiful face and you’re filled out in all the right places. When we were rolling around on the bed just now…you could feel how much you turn me on. That’s not something a man can fake.” His voice was hypnotic. His gaze was boring into her now, and she scrambled off the bed, desperate to get away from him before she did something stupid. Before she ripped her clothes off and begged him to ravish her.
“I’m going to go take a shower right now. And I’m locking the door,” she informed him loftily.
Climbing in the shower, she couldn’t help but think of how he’d felt lying on top her her, the solid, muscular length of him, the swelling of his hard cock. She found her hand wandering down between her legs, and she leaned back against the wall, fingers sliding down between her legs. She bit her lip to stifle a moan and slowly rubbed her fingers against the swollen bud of her clitoris, back and forth, all the while imagining Cooper’s hands on her. He’d be rough and forceful and he’d make her beg for mercy.
Her knees trembled at the thought of it.
Heat gathered inside her, curled up in a tight ball that unfurled like a flower, and she pressed her back against the cold tile wall and shuddered with an orgasm that left her strangely hollow and aching for more.
When she finally emerged from the bathroom, wearing silky pink pajamas, Cooper was lying on the bed, stripped down to a pair of plaid boxer shorts, reading a Tom Clancy book.
She glanced around the room. There was one double bed. There was a small desk with a lamp on it and a chair. Two nightstands, one on either side of the bed, with lamps on them and an alarm clock on one of them.
Only one place to sleep. Well, there was a loveseat…a very small loveseat.
“Surely you don’t think you’re sleeping in my bed?” she said, exasperated.
“I thought we’d been over that already. I’m not going anywhere.”
“If you were a gentleman, you’d sleep on the loveseat. Or on the floor.”
He shrugged, flipping a page. “That’s true. If I were a gentleman, I probably would.”
“It’s a single bed! We’ll be right on top of each other!” she protested angrily.
He turned to look at her, a slow grin spread across his face.
“Oh, cut it out,” she said, her cheeks flushing red. Damn it, now she wanted to go in the bathroom and take another shower, and relieve some tension while she was in there, but that would be way too obvious.
“Why not, now that you mention it? We’re attracted to each other. We’re two healthy, single adults. In the same room together. On vacation in one of the most beautiful little towns in the country.”
“Gee, I can’t think of a single reason why not. Except that you’re not really attracted to me, and you’re the bastard who’s trying to arrest my brother.”
“I can’t deny the second part of that statement. As for the first part…come over here and let me prove how wrong you are.”
She stood stock still, glaring at him, hands on her hips. He shrugged and folded up his book.
“Suit yourself. I’m going to go take a quick shower. No peeking through my stuff.”
She shrugged and smiled sweetly. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”
“Not that I don’t trust you or anything, but I’ve got a pretty good lock on that suitcase. Have fun with it.” And with a grin, he disappeared into the bathroom.
With a small whimper of self-pity, she forced herself not to think of Cooper standing in the shower naked and with water streaming down his muscular body, and instead, concentrated on the suitcase Cooper had stuffed under the bed.
His pretty good lock was in fact an excellent lock. One of the best money could buy. It took Josephine almost 60 seconds to pick it. She was her father’s daughter, after all; as much as she might try to fight destiny, she had the blood of a con man and a thief running through her veins.
Inside the suitcase was neatly folded clothing, a few paperback books, a bag of toiletries, a notebook, a laptop computer and charger inside a laptop case, and a map of Crooked Creek, which she unfolded and studied in case he’d made any markings on the map that might give her a clue as to Jason’s whereabouts.
He hadn’t.
She was contemplating the laptop, which surely was password protected, and wishing she had her brother’s hacking skills, when Cooper walked out of the bathroom with a towel around his waist.
His chest was broad and dusted with curly black hair, his nipples perfect rosy circles. His broad chest tapered in a perfect v to his waist, with its exquisite six pack abs carved as if by a sculptor’s hand.
“Hey!” He protested, astonished, looking at the open suitcase and his belongings scattered on the floor. She smiled sweetly.
“That was a pretty good lock, all right.”
“How did you crack it?”
“That’s for me to know and you not to find out.”
“Fine,” he said coolly, and peeled the towel off and dropped it on the floor. He was naked underneath, his thick cock jutting up from a thatch of dark, curly hair, pointing straight up at the ceiling. The head was a dusky purple, and thick veins throbbed on the outside.
“What the hell?” she squawked, desperately trying to look him in the eye.
“What?” he was all innocence. “Can’t a guy change his clothes in his own room without getting yelled at? You don’t have to look.”
“No, I don’t,” she said. “I’m going for a walk.”
“Not without me, you’re not. I’m sticking to you like glue.”
She snorted in contempt, grabbed her room key, and stomped out the door. “Please go ahead and follow me. I’m sure they have no laws against public nudity here,” she yelled back over her shoulder.
“Hey!” he called out, but she refused to look back at him. “You’re wearing your pajamas!”
Chapter Four
“So how, exactly, did your date end up in the emergency room?” It was 11 p.m., and Cheyenne Larkin was still behind the bar at the Dry Gulch Saloon. The bar was packed with the usual assortment of rowdies, ranch hands, and tourists. Betsy Finkelstein had just walked in with a sour expression on her face and was now nursing a rum and diet coke.
“You know about that already? Who ratted me out?”
“Oh, Betsy. You, of all people, should know how fast news travels in Crooked Creek.” Betsy waitressed at the Dry Gulch Saloon a couple of days a week for extra money, but her full time job was as reporter at the Crooked Creek Telegram. Her family had founded the newspaper in the late 1800s.
“I know, but I only dropped him off 15 minutes ago.” She took a delicate sip of her drink and scowled into its golden-brown depths, peering intently as if the answers to all of her problems were swirling among the crackling ice cubes.
“Yeah. With a broken wrist. I’m trying to imagine how that happened. Did one of your brothers do it? Or did you arm-wrestle him?”
“You know what? None of your beeswax. I’m tired of my pathetic love life being the subject of everyone’s jokes. You have no idea what it’s like being me. You got to sleep with everyone in town before you got married, and nobody even cared.” Betsy paused a minute and considered what she’d just said. “Wait, that didn’t come out how I meant it to. Sorry, it’s the five sips of rum and coke talking.”
“Nahh, that’s just about right. Except it was only the hot ones. Give me some credit.” Cheyenne smirked as she scrubbed down the counter. Her lusty appetites were legendary before she finally met and married, of all things, a virgin…Betsy’s cousin, Dylan.
“Anyway, I’m going home before this night gets any more awful.” She put her drink down and got up to walk away with what little dignity she had left.
She’d had such high hopes her date. She’d gotten off work early, leaving Josephine to clean up, rushed home, showered, even taken the time to pick out matching bra and underwear. As if she was ever going to get lucky. Not if her brothers had anything to say about it, she wouldn’t.
She glance
d across the bar and saw Edna Vale, who wrote the newspaper’s gossip column. Edna was in her 70s, but she was good friends with Cheyenne; the two of them were known to trade sex tips on a regular basis.
As always, her hair was shining white and perfectly set in a 1950s style wave, but she had a little pink streak in the front. Betsy suspected that it was Cheyenne’s influence.
“Hi, Betsy! Sorry to hear your date didn’t go well! Don’t worry – you’ll find the right man someday!” Edna called.
Beautiful. Just beautiful.
“Thanks, Edna.” Cursing to herself, Betsy got up and walked out.
By tomorrow morning, everyone in town would know how her date had ended.
“Betsy, wait! You didn’t tell me what happened!” Cheyenne called after her. But Betsy just kept walking.
Outside, she climbed into her car and headed back home, but within half a block, she saw the new waitress from the day shift, Josephine, standing out on the boardwalk, looking around uncertainly…and wearing pink pajamas.
She pulled over, rolling down her window. “What the heck are you doing? Your hair’s still wet. You’ll catch pneumonia. Get in!”
Josephine climbed into the car and slammed the door shut. “Hi, Betsy. Thank you for the ride. I’m having the worst night ever.”
Betsy shook her head, lips pinched in frustration. “No, I’m having the worst night ever. Where are you headed?”
Josephine sighed. “I don’t know. Away from him.” She nodded her head at a tall, handsome man on the boardwalk, wearing jeans, a t-shirt, and loafers with no socks, who was walking towards them. He was broad shouldered and muscular and had a scowl stamped on his face.
“All right, let’s go for a drive. I’m not in the mood to go home anyway.” Betsy drove past the man, who stared at them open mouthed, and Josephine rolled down her window to give him a saucy wave. “We’ll go to Lookout Point.”
They drove down the Crooked Mile until the lights disappeared and civilization vanished, and then they were winding down the road with only Betsy’s headlights cutting into the thick black night.
Several miles outside of town, they climbed a small hill that looked down on the sweeping valley below, with the mountains towering in the distance.
Betsy opened her door and climbed out, and Josephine followed suit, and the two of them leaned on the car, drinking in the stillness and the beauty of the night.
The silvery globe of the moon dangled overhead, and the sky was a field of black velvet set with thousands of tiny glittering diamonds.
“So what happened with you and that guy you waved at? A lover’s quarrel? I’d love to have a lover’s quarrel. Because that would mean I had a lover.” Betsy’s tone was bitter.
“I can’t imagine you’d have a hard time finding a boyfriend,” Josephine protested.
“Let me paint a picture for you. My family moved to this town in the 1800s and founded the town newspaper. I know we’ve got like 10,000 people in town right now because it’s tourist season, but the actual year round population of residents is in the hundreds. My uncle is the mayor. My father owns the newspaper. My mother is the assistant principal of our very small elementary school. My great-aunt works at the newspaper and runs the newspaper museum. I have four older brothers. I can not do one damn thing in town without everybody knowing about it within minutes, and my brothers are a bunch of macho overprotective dickwads, which makes every guy in town very afraid to date me.”
“It doesn’t sound so bad to me. Then again, my brother and I grew up bouncing around between foster homes and whatever shack my drunk con artist dad was living in, so fitting in like that would be kind of nice, actually. Having people care about you and what you’re up to.”
“It bites.” Betsy scowled. “I wish nobody cared. I feel like I’m being crushed under a hundred and fifty years of history, and four big stupid brothers. I’m sorry about your family, though. That sounds like a tough way to grow up.”
“Oh, I guess it had its advantages. I learned how to take care of myself early on. And my father’s upbringing ended up being the guidebook for my life. I just think of what he’d do in any situation and do the opposite.”
There was a moment of silence.
“So, why was tonight the worst night ever for you?” Josephine asked.
“Promise you won’t tell anyone?”
“Cross my heart and hope to die. I hardly even know anyone to tell, anyway, but my lips are sealed. I’m an EMT; I’m used to keeping secrets.” Josephine paused. “Also my dad spent my entire childhood scamming people out of their life savings, and we were usually one step ahead of the law growing up, so I learned early on not to flap my gums.”
“Oh, god. Someone who won’t gossip. I think I love you.”
She took a deep breath, sighed, and leaned on the car. “I was going out on a date with Marvin, one of the ranch hands from the Jackson Ranch. My friend Abigail and her husband own the ranch. I wish you’d stick around; they’re off on their delayed honeymoon. You’d love her. Anyway…we’re hanging out all night and he never once makes a move on me. We go back to my house, which is unfortunately literally within sight of my family’s house. We’re on my front porch and I decide to grow a spine for once in my life, I leaned in to kiss him…and he jumped back like three feet. He was like, ‘whoa, Betsy, are you kidding? I just wanted to hang out as friends. Your brothers would beat the daylight out of me if I laid a finger on you.’ And just as I was about to argue…my older brother Travis jumps out of the bushes and yells ‘What the hell are you doing with my sister?’. And Marvin was on the edge of the porch, and he was so startled that he fell off and broke his wrist and I had to take him to the emergency room.”
Josephine choked back a laugh, but Betsy forgave her for it. It was pretty funny…if you were anyone else but her.
“How about dating someone who doesn’t know you or your family history?”
“I’m not the most outgoing person in the world. It’s hard for me to talk to new people. When it comes to meeting new guys, I get all tongue tied and stupid and I turn into a big nerd.” Betsy shrugged miserably. “Whatever. I accept the fact that I’m just going to die a born again virgin because I can never date anyone without the entire town and my stupid family meddling, and ruining it. It’s fine. Just fine. I wish I knew how to masturbate. Cheyenne told me I should try the jet in my whirlpool bath.”
Josephine couldn’t hold back any more; she burst into peals of laughter.
Betsy gasped. “Oh my GOD! I can’t believe I just said that! Seriously, I’m never drinking again.”
“It’s all right. I’m ready to die of frustration too. I’m sharing a hotel room with the hottest guy on the east coast and there’s only one bed and I can’t lay a finger on him.”
“Why not? Is he gay?”
“I freaking wish. It would make things so much easier.”
“So? What’s the deal?”
Josephine considered the question. She didn’t know Betsy, but her instincts, honed over years of having to constantly adapt to new situations and think on her feet, told her that Betsy was a good person to have as a friend.
Still, the stakes were huge. If she told Betsy, what would Betsy do?
Before she could answer, she saw headlights coming up the road behind them. Squinting at the patrol car as it rolled to a stop beside them, surprise jolted her when she realized that it was Deputy Mancini and Cooper.
The two of them climbed out of the car, and Cooper walked over to them and gave them a jaunty wave.
“What the hell? How did they find us?” Josephine shook her head in amazement.
Betsy let out a bitter laugh. “Do you see what I mean about how there’s no privacy in Crooked Creek, ever? No matter where you go?”
“I am beginning to see your point about how annoying that could be,” Josephine said, and then she turned and shot an angry look at Cooper. “Can I help you with something, Cooper?”
“I was just explaining to my
new friend Deputy Mancini here about your brother. And how your brother jumped bail and is on the run from the law. And you’re here to meet up with him.” Cooper’s eyes held cool challenge as they met hers. Josephine felt rage boiling in her veins.
“I’ve told you before that I do not know where my brother is.”
“And yet, you gave notice at your job and your apartment, put all your belongings in storage, and took what little money you have and came here to this town, where you have no known connections or ties and have never been before, and you did it on a moment’s notice. We both know you’re not here on vacation.”
Cooper was obviously very good at what he did, Josephine had to give him that.
But he didn’t know everything. Josephine did have family ties here; they just went way, way, way back. She’d always thought of the stories that her father told her as fanciful lies, but Jason obviously thought there was more to it than that.
She still didn’t know why he was here or what he was looking for. And obviously, neither did Cooper…yet.
The challenge was going to be finding out before he did. He was proving to be quite good at keeping her in his sights.
Josephine turned to Betsy. “I’ve enjoyed the view. Why don’t you give me a ride back to my motel room?”
They climbed back into the car, shut the doors, and headed back to the motel, with DeputyMancini’s car following them all the way back. As they drove, Josephine explained about Cooper, her brother and his tarnished history.
“I swear to God, Betsy, there’s something more going on here. This isn’t like my brother. If I find out that he’s really just being an ass, that he took off because he doesn’t want to go to trial, I’ll turn him in myself. But before I do that, I want to look him in the eye and ask him what the hell is going on. He never could lie to my face.”
“I believe you.” They came to a stop in front of the motel. Betsy fished around in her pocketbook and came up with a business card, which she handed to Josephine.
“I’m not waitressing tomorrow; I’ll be working at the newspaper. But if you need anything, call me. My cell phone’s on there.”
Curvy Girls: The Big Girl and the Bounty Hunter Page 3
