Erica Lucke Dean - To Katie with Love (14 page)

I thought about dialing my mother one more time when Vicky walked in with her typical smirk. “You know, I’ve been thinking.”

“Did you need an aspirin?”

“Very funny.” She scowled. “No, I was thinking you need to do a little digging.”

“Digging?”

“Yeah, digging. If Cooper
is
involved in something illegal, surely you would see evidence of it somewhere. My dad had this old saying, ‘If you walk around the barnyard long enough, you’re bound to step in shit.’ So I imagine a killer would eventually end up with a little blood on his shoes. Have you ever looked at Cooper’s shoes? Dean says you can tell a lot about a guy by his footwear… how the soles wear, stuff like that. Mark my words, Katie. You need to dig through the guy’s closet to see what you can find. Just watch out for skeletons while you’re at it.”

I stared open-mouthed at the doorway long after she’d vanished from view. She actually wanted me to search for bloody shoes in Cooper’s closet? The worst part about her suggestion was I actually thought it might be a good idea… for all of five minutes, until I shook it off and considered the source. In just a few hours, Cooper would walk through that door, and everything would be perfect. I wasn’t about to let Vicky ruin my happy day.

For the next hour, I actually did some work, since Phil had started watching me a little too closely. I hadn’t seen him hovering in several minutes, though, and then I realized I hadn’t seen anyone in a while. They didn’t know Cooper was on a plane. Had they gotten bored already? I could only hope.

I stood and walked to my door. Everyone was paying rapt attention to the parking lot. Not that I was complaining. I was just curious as to what would draw all of them away from the spectacle that was
me
. I stepped out into the lobby. There was a mini traffic jam in our tiny lot. I counted three… no,
four
delivery vans parked in front of the building.

“Well…” Silvia glanced over at me. “I guess that settles it.”

“Hmmm?” I was too busy watching the dozens of white orchids being unloaded from each of the four vans. My mouth fell open, and I covered it with my hand. I was a little dazed.

“I guess he likes you better,” Silvia said.

When I met Cooper in the lobby, he tried for a welcome home kiss. Much to his disappointment, I put a damper on that. I only permitted an innocent embrace while I was still under the constant scrutiny of my coworkers. I wouldn’t even entertain his attempts to drag me into the vault for covert necking.

I thanked him with a careful kiss once we were alone in my office. “The flowers are beautiful.”

“So are you,” he said softly, playing with a small potted orchid as he gazed at me from across the desk.

“Silvia has decided you must like me better.”

He raised his eyebrows. “And it took a truckload of orchids for her to draw that conclusion?”

“Several truckloads of orchids,” I corrected. “But you did send her an awful lot of roses.”

There were orchids literally everywhere. I had three on my desk, and they lined the floor against the wall and along the top of the cabinets above my desk. And that wasn’t counting the rest of them scattered all over the bank. I was fairly certain we wouldn’t be able to get a fraction of them in the car with us.

I realized while I had been mooning over the flowers, he hadn’t said anything. “You’re quiet.”

He shrugged.

“Work?”

“I don’t want to bore you with the details.”

“Okay, but that’s what a relationship is about, boring each other with details.”

He was almost too still as he sat there watching me. But I didn’t have to wonder what he was thinking; there was no question as to where his eyes were focused.

“You like this blouse.” It wasn’t a question. I could see the flash of heat in his eyes when he looked at it.

“I’d like it better if you weren’t wearing it.” He rubbed the light stubble on his chin and grinned at me. His smile still had the power to take my breath away.

“That can be arranged,” I teased.

“Now?” He almost leered at me.

I laughed and rolled my eyes. “Oh, absolutely! I think that would go over big, if I got undressed right here in my office with everyone watching. Phil would love that.”

He frowned. “I don’t think I like Phil anymore.”

“Cooper, why don’t you like Phil?”

“He’s trying to force you to work with Dean. I don’t trust Dean. There’s something very strange about that guy.” He pulled one of the fragile petals from the little orchid and almost immediately flashed an apologetic grin. He was definitely in a strange mood after his New York trip.

I reached for his hand. “I’m not even remotely interested in Dean. He’s no Cooper Maxwell.”

He laughed, twining his fingers in mine across the desk. “Can you leave yet?”

“Soon.”

“How’s your mother?” he asked straight-faced, but I knew he was fighting a smile.

I cleared my throat and kept my face serious. “Probably still wondering whose naked body I was planning to ravage with my tongue.”

His eyes widened. I could tell by the look on his face he was picturing it in graphic detail.

I was somewhat satisfied with his temporary punishment for bringing up my disastrous sexting incident. “How was New York?”

“Cold and lonely without you.” Cooper leaned back in the chair, letting my hand go to push his into his hair. As he lifted his arm, I noticed a stain on his shirt.

Ordinarily, I wouldn’t be the least bit concerned with a stain. I personally found it impossible to make it through an entire meal without dropping something on my clothes. But Cooper was impeccably neat. And the particular stain I was scrutinizing was on the underside of his sleeve between his wrist and his elbow, and it looked remarkably like dried blood. My thoughts immediately flashed to Vicky… and shoes.

“You have something on your shirt,” I pointed out cautiously.

He twisted his wrist around to see. “Oh.”

“Did you cut yourself?” I asked, trying to keep my voice steady.

His cheeks flamed. “It’s probably just sauce. I never go to New York without getting a chili dog from a street vendor. I must have put my sleeve in the chili.”

My head bobbed as I forced my lips into a smile. Guilt shot through me at my suspicion.

He put his arm down. “So I thought we would go to your house first and pack a bag for you. My bed is infinitely more comfortable than yours, and we’re sleeping there tonight.”

I told myself chili dog sauce was a perfectly reasonable excuse for having a dark red stain on his shirt. And when I didn’t believe it, I told myself again, and again. And I reminded myself it was Vicky who had put those traitorous thoughts in my head. As far as where I would sleep that night, I couldn’t argue with him. I’d slept in his bed before, and it was scrumptious. I would be perfectly safe and blissfully happy in Cooper’s bed.
What could I possibly have to worry about?

“Then dinner. I’ll let you choose that.” He leaned in to close half the distance between us. “Because you are going to need your strength tonight.” And he flashed his lopsided grin, making my stomach flip again.

“Well, then,” I said, trying to breathe, “I suppose we have a busy evening ahead of us. We shouldn’t waste any time. I’m ready when you are.”

“I was ready when I got here.” He came around the desk and held his black leather jacket for me to slip my arms into the sleeves. Then he grabbed my briefcase from the floor behind me, bending to brush his lips against mine in what would be the first of many kisses that night.

A TRIATHLON

“C
ooper, do you have a hairdryer?” I asked.

He sat on the edge of my bed, waiting patiently for me to pack. He’d picked up one of the books from the floor and was flipping through the pages. “Don’t be silly,” he shot back, but I didn’t know if that meant “Don’t be silly, of course I do,” or “Don’t be silly, why would I own a hairdryer?”

“Yes or no? I’m trying to hurry. Don’t confuse me.”

“Yes.” He laughed. “I have shampoo and soap and towels and… what else might you need?”

“Peppermint toothpaste?” I poked my head out of the bathroom to see his reaction.

“Now you’re being ridiculous.” I wasn’t sure if he was referring to the toothpaste comment or the sticky note he plucked from the pages of the book. “What’s with the Post-its?”

“Oh… um…” I felt the heat flash from my chest to my hairline. “I like to mark my favorite parts, so I can read them again. It’s silly.”

“Not silly. I do that sometimes.” His head bobbed as he examined my tattered paperback with a smirk. “You must really like this book.”

A sudden twinge of guilt propelled me across the room. Watching Cooper flip through the pages of one of my
Immortal Blood
books was like watching him confront a former lover. I expected to see his serene expression twist with jealousy.
Ridiculous.

“Mmm-hmm.” I eased the book out of his hand and tucked it under my pillow, avoiding eye contact. “Elizabeth Jayne is my favorite author. I’ve been known to read her books more than once.”

“There’s nothing wrong with that. I think I read my copy of
The Bourne Identity
until it disintegrated.” He stood up, cupped my chin and tipped my face up to his. “Hey, don’t be embarrassed. I love that you read. It’s something else we have in common.”

I gave him a quick nod and tossed the rest of my things into my bag, anxious to get him out of my bedroom before he discovered anything more embarrassing. “I’m ready.” I started for the stairs.

He caught up and took the bag from my shoulder. “Where would you like to eat?”

We stopped for fast food on the way, wasting no time before heading back to his place where we could be alone. As he pulled his car into his driveway, I asked if I’d get to see more of his house.

“You’ve already seen all the best parts.” He winked before getting out and unloading my bag from the trunk.

I was acutely aware of the fact that he still kept a great deal of himself hidden from me. I thought of our first date—was it only a week ago?—when he asked if I was intentionally keeping him from seeing my home. “Cooper, are you intentionally trying to keep things from me?”

Something dark crossed his features, and he frowned. “I don’t
want
to keep anything from you.”

I recognized he didn’t say he
wasn’t
keeping things from me. Just that he didn’t want to. Hardly the same thing. “Why won’t you show me your living room?”

He relaxed almost instantly and laughed. “I will gladly show you my living room, and the kitchen too if you like. Would you like to see the dining room? I never go in there. I spend most of my time in my sitting room and bedroom. The house is really too big for just me.”

I was reminded of the first night I’d been there, when he sounded almost embarrassed by the lushness of his bathroom. I wondered why he lived in such an opulent house if he didn’t like it.

His garage opened into what I suspected was a mudroom, but it could only be described as pristine. The black slate floors were spotless. Open, floor-length wood cabinets lined the wall on one side, and other than a single gray wool overcoat, nothing hung on the hooks. Cooper ushered me straight through to the kitchen, and I gasped.

He looked at me funny and rolled his eyes. “It’s just a kitchen, Katie. I almost never cook in here. I think there’s cereal in the pantry. No milk, I’m afraid, but I may have a bag of marshmallows somewhere, too.” There was that embarrassment again.

No matter what he said, it was more than just a kitchen. It was a work of art, something straight out of a Tuscan winery. Dark, distressed walnut cabinets surrounded golden granite counters. His stove—the one he never used—was a high-end commercial number in shiny stainless steel, just like the enormous refrigerator. A huge copper sink was set in the counter along one wall and a smaller matching one in the island. He may not like cooking, but if he would let me, I could cook up a storm in there.

Beyond the kitchen was a keeping room that looked as though it had been set up for a magazine photo shoot. Not a thing was out of place. Not a speck of dust on anything.

“How long have you lived here? You don’t have any pictures… of anyone… anywhere that I’ve seen. No magazines, no mail sitting out. It’s like a real estate model.”

He shrugged. “I’ve lived here a long time. But I guess I never had a reason to make it more personal. I’d hang your picture… if I had one.”

I dropped the interrogation for the moment. I would come back to it later. I didn’t know when, but I knew it wasn’t the right time. He was slipping into melancholy, and I definitely didn’t want that.

He led me into the next room. “This is the main living room. There is another one in the front of the house near the formal dining room, but this one is my favorite. I don’t really use any of them, but if I did, I would use this one.”

“I like your sofa. Is it comfortable?” I tried to infuse my voice with the longing I felt for him.

“Why would you ask about the sofa when you know how wonderful the bed is?”

“I was just thinking I didn’t want to wait until we got upstairs.” I took a tentative step closer to him and pulled my bottom lip between my teeth.

He smiled, putting down my bag, and reached out to take my hand. “Why didn’t you just say so?”

He tugged on my hand until I almost tripped into his arms, and he wound them around me, burying his face in my hair. His lips brushed against my ear, and a chill ran through me. He must have felt the tremor because he groaned and ran his tongue over my earlobe. My body responded by melting into him, and my shaky hands found their way under his shirt, smoothing over his muscled chest and flat stomach.

He grabbed me around the waist and lifted me slightly, towing me the few feet to the sofa in question. He put me down and, with a devilish grin, pushed against my shoulders until I fell into the plush sofa with a giggle.

I watched as he slowly unbuttoned his shirt and tossed it aside, and then he dropped to his knees in front of me and reached up to undo the buttons on the blouse he was so fond of. He took great care, and way too much time, to remove and gently lay it over a chair before kissing his way from my lips to my chest and back.

He was going to torture me again. He seemed to love dragging things out until I couldn’t breathe. All I wanted was to feel him as close to me as possible.

“Time for more earth-shattering love?” I whispered against his ear as he nuzzled my neck.

“You always rush me. I’m taking my time tonight.”

I let my head fall back against the sofa and groaned softly. “Then you’d better take me up to your bed. This sofa wasn’t made for marathons.”

He kissed his way down to the delicate lace covering my breasts. “I was thinking of a triathlon, actually. The sofa is just the first leg. We’ll get to the bed all in good time.”

I shuddered hard, and that just drove him to step up his assault. He was going to kill me. There was no question. My poor heart hammered in my chest, and his ear was close enough to hear that. But it wasn’t his ear I was concentrating on at that moment. His mouth had found its way beneath the lace and was torturing me in a wonderful way. My hands slid up his back and twisted into his hair, holding his head in place. The sensations were intense and wonderful and still full of surprises. I wasn’t paying attention to his hands. I should have been.

I gasped with delicious surprise. “What did you just do?”

“Did you like that?”

I moaned my answer, and I could feel his lopsided grin against my skin. Then he did it again and again until I almost begged him to stop.

“I think I like triathlons,” I said as we lounged in the claw foot tub a few hours later. His arms were wrapped around me from behind, and my head rested on his hard chest.

“I knew you would.”

“You surprised me a little. I had no idea you have so many tricks up your sleeve.” I knew he couldn’t see my face, but I couldn’t help but smile anyway.

“You would never give me the opportunity. You like to rush too much.”

I shrugged. “I get impatient.”

He bent down and put his lips to my ear. “You need to learn patience.”

“I guess you’ll have to teach me.”

“Hmmm. I suppose that might be fun.”

We were quiet for a long moment before I spoke again. “You know, tomorrow is Tuesday.”

“Yes, it generally comes after Monday.”

“Smartass.” I swatted his hand. “I mean, you have a standing appointment on Tuesday.”

“Yes, to… um… balance my checkbook.” He kept his voice even, but we were both aware of the humor in that.

“I will be wearing clothes at the office, you know.”

“Oh, I insist.”

“I could always balance your checkbook at home,” I suggested.

He rested his chin on the top of my head. “I can actually balance my own checkbook, you know.”

I pulled myself up slightly to turn around and look at him. “Are you going to start balancing your checkbook yourself?”

“And miss out on an opportunity to watch you do it? Perish the thought.”

I settled back in with my head cradled against his chest. “You had me worried for a minute. Vicky suggested you might want to replace me as your banker because we were dating.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. Does she think I’ll be asking
her
to manage my accounts now?” He laughed, but it was cold.

I was immediately relieved. Vicky had tried to convince me of exactly that.

“Besides, what we’re doing is much more than dating.” He ran his fingertips lightly down my arms as if to emphasize his point. “I think of the past year as our dating phase. It may have been somewhat unorthodox, but I always considered every appointment with you to be a date.”

He thought of our appointments as dates? And here I’d convinced myself he just hated accountants like so many of my other clients. All the worries I had bottled up instantly vanished when he explained his reasoning. It made perfect sense. I had always prepared for his appointments the way I would prepare for a date. I dressed a little nicer on those days, wore my expensive perfume. I got nervous. I played with my hair and chewed on my lips and generally didn’t relax until he was gone. I would replay every nuance of our conversations back in my head later to analyze their meaning.

I just didn’t know he was doing the same thing. I had no idea that while I was thinking of him as some unattainable prize, forever outside my grasp, he was in turn planning his next move to woo me.

“So what made you decide to go completely rogue and pursue me?” I almost felt silly asking, but the question had been burning a hole in my brain since my birthday.

He shifted beneath me. “Well…” He smoothed his hands through his damp hair.

“Please tell me.” I forced myself to stay still, barely stirring the warm water with my fingers. I didn’t want to make him more nervous by looking at him, despite the fact I was dying to see his expression.

“It came to my attention that perhaps I was being just a bit too subtle in my approach, and so I decided to crash your birthday party in an attempt to see if maybe a more obvious tactic would catch your eye. When it appeared you might actually be interested in me, I just couldn’t rein it in anymore. I became a man on a mission.”

I wasn’t sure which part of it flagged my attention more: the fact that he had intentionally crashed my party or that information about me was being brought to his attention. I assumed someone was feeding him information, but I wasn’t entirely sure if it was by design or accident. “So someone told you to change your hair and dress all rumpled?”