by JoAnn Ross
“What?”
“That you’d be hard.” His body jolted as she ran her exploring hands down his chest, over his abdomen. “And beautiful.”
“Guys aren’t beautiful.”
“You are.” When she pulled his black leather belt away and unbuttoned his pants, Cooper heard the nearby sea roaring in his ears. “When you walked out of the New Chance, you literally took my breath away.”
He caught her hands as they moved to his zipper.
Patience.
Although it was the hardest thing he’d ever done, even harder than humping up Afghan mountains with a full pack on his back, Cooper continued to slow the pace, even when she would’ve speeded things up.
They undressed each other as their lips met and clung. Then separated. Then came together again. And again.
Finally, as they lay facing each other on the bed, Rachel’s hands skimmed the planes and hollows of Cooper’s body, her fingers tracing muscles that contracted under her exploring touch. In turn, Cooper’s hands moved over her, caressing, claiming, drawing out a warm, smoldering pleasure that caused her breathing to grow heavy.
Her soft whimpers, when his teeth tugged at the rosy crest of her breasts, caused heat in his loins, but wanting to make this good for her, still even after he’d helmeted up with one of the condoms he’d bought specifically for this weekend, Cooper refused to rush.
“I love the way you feel in my arms.” He lifted his head to give her a long, heartfelt look. “I love the way you feel in my arms. I love touching you here . . .” He cupped her breasts, kissed them, and nipped the taut nipples.
Gasping out soft little cries that had him throbbing, she arched her back off the mattress and reached for him. Knowing that if she touched him, she’d finish him off here and now, Cooper captured both her wrists and held them above her head. Even as she whimpered a complaint against his mouth, he felt her surrender.
Something he’d already determined she did not do often.
“And here . . .” He pressed his palm against her stomach, causing her to draw in a sharp breath before he moved lower. “And especially here . . .”
Rachel’s mind was tumbling like a shell caught in the surf when Cooper spread her thighs wide and, oh, God, kissed her. She was so hot, so ready, that all it took was one quick stroke of his wildly wicked tongue to send her over the edge.
She was still trembling as he lifted his head. Although his expression was as serious as she’d ever seen it, there was a cocky male satisfaction in his deep green eyes.
“Stop gloating,” she managed on a breathless laugh. Determine to shatter his rigid control once and for all, she took hold of him, shifted so she could wrap her legs around his waist and lifted her hips, taking him in.
Finally!
With a deep, guttural groan, he surged into her, fully, deeply, claiming her body as she’d begun to fear he’d already claimed her heart.
But that wasn’t what tonight was about. Tonight was about living in the now. Which was glorious.
They held nothing back as they moved together. Sweat-slick flesh slapped against flesh, blood flowed hotly to where they were joined, storm waves built with each deep thrust until the powerful tsunami swept over them, engulfing them both.
Rachel had given herself to him, openly, eagerly. And, whether she was ready to admit it or not, she was his. All his.
Cooper’s fingers played idly with the dark hair splayed across his damn chest. His body was satiated—for the time being—but his mind was not. Until tonight, while he’d given up meaningless sex, he’d forgotten the vast difference between having sex and making love.
Watching Rachel shatter in his arms the same way he had in hers, only confirmed what Cooper had admitted to his brother.
He loved her and wanted, more than anything, to shout that love from the rooftops.
The only problem with that idea, he considered as he brushed the hair away from her forehead and pressed a light kiss against her temple, was that Rachel wasn’t ready for such a declaration. He’d just have to wait until after her Christmas opening. Which wasn’t his first choice.
Still, there was a lot to be said for a midnight New Year’s Eve proposal. Wouldn’t that make for a story to tell their grandkids someday?
Latching on to that vastly appealing idea, Cooper wrapped her in his arms and drifted off to sleep.
36
Rachel was floating in a misty morning realm somewhere between sleep and awakening. Her body ached, not unpleasantly, bringing back erotic memories of waking up during the night to make love with Cooper again. And yet again, with a renewed passion that had the power to excite, even now.
Snuggling deeper into her pillow, she rolled over and reached for Cooper, her lazy feeling of pleasure disintegrating the moment she encountered empty space. Had he gone back to his room, taking that emotional distance she’d once thought she’d need herself?
But she’d only been wary of facing the dreaded morning after before coming here to Shelter Bay with him. After all they’d shared, the tender caresses, the murmured endearments, the absolute intimacy, surely last night hadn’t been solely about sex?
Not that there was anything necessarily wrong with sex, she could practically hear Janet’s brisk voice in her head. After all, she’d been attracted to Cooper from the beginning. What woman wouldn’t be? He was a handsome, intelligent, virile, sexually compelling male. It wasn’t surprising that after all the time they’d been spending together she’d end up in bed with the man.
As long as she managed to keep things in their proper perspective, remembering that what they’d shared had been merely highly enjoyable—okay, mind-blowing—recreational sex, everything would be all right.
Rachel was still trying to convince herself of that when Cooper walked in the door, carrying a breakfast tray and looking like every woman’s hot, forbidden fantasy.
“I was hoping to get back before you woke up,” he greeted her.
“I thought you’d left,” she admitted with an honestly that would have proven difficult even yesterday.
“I called room service, but since we had more important things on our minds than putting out our order last night, they said it’d be a forty-five minute wait. Since I’m useless until after my second cup of coffee, I decided to go down and fetch breakfast myself.”
His chestnut hair was tousled, as if he’d combed it by running those fingers that had driven her so insane last night through it. He was wearing a tight gray T-shirt, jeans, and those cowboy boots that gave him a mouth-watering male swagger.
Rachel tried to tell herself that it was chemistry that had her practically melting into the sheets.
But then, damn, he smiled at her—a slow grin gilded with intimate promise and sensual memories—and she knew she was sunk.
“Scott says you’re not usually much of a breakfast eater, so I brought some yogurt, melon, and muffins,” he said, his gaze on hers. “The server assured me that the muffins are made with fresh blueberries.”
“I love blueberry muffins.”
“I was hoping you did. But, just in case, I also got a couple of croissants.”
They might be talking about breakfast, but Rachel’s pulse quickened when his eyes turned darkly seductive. “Sounds like a veritable feast.”
“I’m glad you approve.”
As something warm and insistent curled through her, Rachel wondered if it were possible to turn into a nymphomaniac overnight. She didn’t want muffins. What she wanted was Cooper. Hot. Naked. Now.
“Oh, I definitely approve Sheriff,” she purred in a way in a way she hadn’t even realized she had in her until he’d unleashed her hidden siren. She slowly, suggestively, drank him in, from his head down to the toes of those boots. “Of everything.”
Setting the tray on the table, he came over to the bed to look down at her. “Exactly how hungry are you?”
“Do you have to ask?”
The mattress sighed as he sat down next to her and pulled
off his boots.
“Confession time. I haven’t been able to get you out of my mind since you first showed up at the New Chance, Rachel Hathaway.” He skimmed his wickedly clever fingers over her face.
“It’s the same for me,” she admitted breathlessly. Her hands fisted in his T-shirt as she urged him down to her.
Needing no second invitation, Cooper went willingly.
37
“You were wrong.”
Having retrieved the breakfast tray from the table, Cooper was stretched out on the bed, busily spreading butter onto his muffin. “About what?”
“About being useless until after your second cup of coffee.”
He grinned. “Yeah. We should’ve high-fived. Or fist bumped.”
She laughed. “At least.” Her cheeks warmed at the memory. “You were amazing.”
“I didn’t do it myself.”
True. She’d practically attacked him, riding him hard and fast to the finish line. “So,” she said, brushing croissant crumbs from the sheet, “What’s the plan for today?”
“I thought we’d have a leisurely breakfast in bed, drive along the coast for a while, have lunch at the Sea Mist restaurant overlooking the bay, and play the rest of the day by ear. How does that sound?”
What it sounded was wonderful even as she felt that now familiar spike of work-related anxiety.
No. She wasn’t going to think about the New Chance. At least not this weekend.
She was so close to the finish line. The wiring was done, the walls painted, and the wood floor had been buffed and sealed. Jake had finished the fireplace and not a pipe in the building leaked.
Mitzi’s decorator friend, who’d insisted on working at cost, was delivering the recovered booths and chairs next week. Unless something totally unexpected happened, Cooper’s promise that the New Chance would open by Christmas would turn out to be true.
“Perhaps we could drop into one of those galleries I saw across from the harbor,” she suggested. “I still need paintings.”
“I can take care of those.”
“You?”
“Yes, me. How’d you like a couple Gideon Bond originals?”
Gideon Bond was a former professional bull rider turned western painter who’d hit the big time when designers discovered “Cowboy Highstyle” and started putting cowhide rugs on New York City apartment floors. Rachel had attended one of his showings at a SoHo gallery that had been one of Alan’s clients.
The painter’s scenery and ability to capture his cowboy and Native American roots had been exceptional, which had resulted in the prices of his work shooting sky-high.
“You know my budget. I could never afford a Gideon Bond original.”
“What if I told you that he’d be willing to donate a painting? And let you hang some other canvases on the walls until they’re sold?”
“You can’t be serious.”
“As a heart attack.”
His smug, self-satisfied look had her narrowing her eyes. “Why would a famous artist give a painting to a woman he doesn’t even know?” Okay, so they’d exchanged a few words, but there had been so many people crowded into the gallery that night, she doubted he’d remember her.
“Simple. I vouched for you.”
“You know Gideon Bond?”
“Yeah. He lives in River’s Bend.”
“How did I not know that?” Rachel would have bet the deed to the New Chance that nothing in this town stayed secret.
“Gideon likes his privacy and people like Gideon, so gossip about him is pretty much off limits. But his family has a ranch here and he and I grew up together. He’s gotten a lot more prolific since he quit traveling the bull riding circuit, but because he limits his shows to just a couple a year, he has a bunch of work stacked out at his place. You need paintings and he needs a place to store them.”
“That print above your fireplace,” she said as she thought back on that evening at his home. “That’s an original?”
“A housewarming gift,” he confirmed.
Rachel couldn’t believe her good fortune. Not only was she thrilled to have such expressive work to display, just having the reclusive artist’s paintings at the New Chance was bound to garner publicity.
“Thank you.” Deeply moved by his gesture, she lifted her lips to his.
And then they were kissing again, and his body was on top of hers and her bare legs were wrapped around his and it was glorious.
38
After returning home from their weekend, which had turned out to be even more relaxing and special than Cooper had promised, they continued working nights at the café, after which they’d returned to Rachel’s bungalow to make quiet, clandestine love while her son slept unawares in his own room across the hall.
She’d also discovered the wonders of quickies—in the new, empty cooler while the others were away for lunch, the bathroom at the house while Scott was over at Warren’s playing video games and even in the backseat of the Jeep parked on a bluff overlooking the river on their way to pick up Scott, who’d begun taking horseback riding lessons from Dan.
One day at a time.
Sticking to the agreement she’d made with Cooper, their relationship remained sexually satisfying and emotionally unthreatening. So why, Rachel wondered as she watched him drive away in the pre-dawn hours to ensure he’d be gone before Scott woke up, did she suddenly feel sad?
One Sunday morning, after kissing Cooper goodbye, she’d put on her flannel pajamas and returned to a cold and lonely bed only to be abruptly awakened some time later by Scott leaping onto the mattress. “Hey, Mom! Guess what?”
“Mmmmh.” She rolled over and burrowed her face into the pillow.
Scott was not easily deterred. “It snowed last night.”
“Good for it.” She smelled coffee and decided she must still be dreaming.
“So let’s go sledding. Like we used to.”
She squeezed her eyes tightly shut, fighting against the rising awareness. “We don’t have a sled.”
“Cooper brought one over. He says he knows this really cool hill where he used to go when he was a kid.”
“I’ve been known to go down it as a grownup,” offered the unmistakable male voice.
Rachel’s eyes flew open, and she sat up as Cooper walked into the bedroom.
“What are you doing here?”
“I’m bringing you your morning coffee,” he said as he handed her the earthenware mug. “And Scott the sled.”
“Well, that was certainly thoughtful of you.” As she blew on the coffee to cool it, Scott appeared on the verge of exploding with anticipation. “Did you thank Cooper?”
“Sure. Well, can we?”
“Can we what?”
“Go sledding.”
The coffee was rich, strong, and every bit as good as any she would have made.
“You should see all the snow, Mom! It’s perfect!”
His tone was perilously close to a whine. He was dressed in his NFL pajamas, the cowboy hat perched on his head.
Rachel was in no mood to argue. Especially when she remembered her own youthful excitement at the first snow of the season. “All right. You can go.”
“I told you she’d let me,” Scott said to Cooper as he flung his arms around Rachel’s neck. Coffee sloshed over the rim of the mug. “You’re the greatest mom in the whole world!”
He was gone in a flash. A moment later she heard him rummaging in his closet as he searched out his snow clothing while Rachel began dabbing ineffectually at the coffee stains on the down comforter with a tissue.
Disappearing into the bathroom, Cooper returned with a dampened hand towel. “Here. Try this.”
“Thanks.” Rachel took the towel and continued her efforts. “Bringing Scott that sled and taking him out is very thoughtful.”
“I’m looking forward to it. But we’re not going alone.”
“I can’t go with you.”
“Of course you can.”
“Th
e café—”
“Will still be there in a couple hours.”
As she rubbed at her temple, where a headache threatened, he sat down on the bed and put his arm around her. “How long has it been since you’ve played in the snow?” he asked, nuzzling her neck. “Remember sledding, snowball fights, making snow angels? Tell me that doesn’t sound the least bit appealing and I’ll leave with Scott. Though I’d bet he’d have a lot more fun with his mom along.”
Her flesh warmed where his lips touched, her heartbeat quickened as he nibbled lightly, possessively on her earlobe. Rachel closed her eyes and allowed herself to be tempted. “Why can’t I ever say no to you?”
“You told me no this morning,” Cooper reminded her. “When I wanted to stay in this bed.” He trailed his lips up her cheek. “With you.”
His fingers were stroking the base of her neck while his lips had moved on to create exquisite sensations at her temple.
“I didn’t want to give Mrs. MacGregor any more grist for her gossip mill.”
Personally, Cooper didn’t give a damn about Mrs. MacGregor or her gossip mill.
But Rachel did. And that made all the difference.
“I know. That’s the only reason I left.” And had driven home in a blinding snowstorm at five this morning.
Rachel leaned against his chest, relaxing in the circle of his arms. “You were angry,” she murmured.
“More frustrated.” He kissed her hair, breathing in the scent of flowers. “But yeah, I was a little pissed. I didn’t realize it showed.”
“It did.” For anyone who knew him as well as she’d come to. Rachel lifted her hand to his cheek. “But you came back.”
Did she honestly believe he had any choice? “I came back.” Cooper turned his head, burying his lips in her palm.
When his teeth closed on the fleshy part of her hand, Rachel gasped, almost spilling the rest of the cooling coffee. Taking the mug from her, Cooper put it on the table. Then gathered her more closely into his arms and gave her a deep, draining kiss.
“Hey, Mom.”
