Read The Rebel (The Millionaire Malones Book 3) Online
Authors: Victoria Purman
The Rebel (The Millionaire Malones Book 3)
A Millionaire Malones Romance
Victoria Purman
The Rebel
Copyright © 2015 Victoria Purman
EPUB Edition
The Tule Publishing Group, LLC
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination
or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
ISBN: 978-1-943963-03-4
To my wild, wonderful and wicked friends. You know who you all are.
The Malone Millionaires Series
‡
T
here were voices
penetrating the thick fog in Cooper Malone’s head. Like he was underwater and someone above the water line was calling to him, attempting to get his attention. He tried to wake up but couldn’t. There was a dead weight in his head and the voices
weren’t making any sense; they were just slurred and fuzzy snatches of a language that sounded foreign to him. There was beeping too, a repetitive sound like the warning from a reversing truck, and something cool and crisp under his fingers. And when he tried to open his eyes, the bright, bright lights stung. Something on his left leg was heavy and tight. His tongue felt thick and when he tried
to speak, he couldn’t seem to make the words come out in the right order. Or the right language. Everything felt like slow motion. His heart was beating loud in his ears and something hurt real bad.
When he tried to move, he felt it. Something hurt like hell. Something other than his head. Where was he? What the hell was going on? Memories came back to him, slow and fragmented. He’d been walking
down the sandy pathway under the train track to Trestles, his surfboard under his arm, the E on his left and the S on his right, the letters on the concrete pillars spelling out the name of the beach he’d grown to love.
Last thing he remembered he was in San Clemente, on his board, with the bright morning light in his eyes and the warmth of the Southern Californian sun on his back as he paddled,
and the Pacific Ocean’s waves rolling over him. It was his one link to home, that ocean. He’d grown up surfing it from the other side of the Pacific, halfway across the world, on Sydney’s beaches.
But he wasn’t in Australia now.
Cooper closed his eyes and gave in to the fog, let it thicken all around him, allowed it to seep into his mouth and down into his lungs and to every limb and then he
was back in never-never land.
*
Maggie MacLean stood
at the side of Cooper’s hospital bed, arms crossed, trying not to imagine the worst. The most infuriating man she’d ever met lay flat on his back, doped up to the eyeballs, and was sporting a hospital gown that was way too small. He looked even more tanned than usual against the white
of the sheets, and his out-of-control blond hair looked like he’d been in a wind tunnel. Those blue eyes of his – usually teasing but now unfocused and confused – had fluttered shut and his head had dropped to the side. Right under his hairline, above his left eye, she could make out his scar, gouged when he’d been hit by a fin on his first surfboard when he was twelve. He loved to tell her son,
Evan, that story, embellishing it with buckets of blood and a trip in an ambulance. She glanced down to the end of the bed and, yes, one ankle at the end of a long, long leg was dangling over the side. The other was raised on a bed of pillows and covered with a sheet.
The big, infuriating man roused, squinted and then his cheek hit the pillow again.
‘Cooper, you damn fool,’ Maggie said softly,
glad he was semi-conscious so he wouldn’t see her tears and the shuddering in her shoulders as she watched him. ‘You awake?’
‘Ess …,’ he muttered.
She leaned closer. ‘What was that?’
‘Eeee …’ Then his eyes drifted closed again, and he began to breathe deeply.
S? E?
Essie
? How perfectly appropriate that Cooper Malone should be just hours out of surgery and already whispering some woman’s name.
Knowing him, he’d probably been trying to impress some beach bunny or other when he’d done something stupid and hurt himself out on the waves at one of San Clemente’s iconic beaches.
There were always women around Cooper Malone, the pro surfer, Australian larrikin and her long-time friend. Or ‘mate’ as he always liked to describe her.
Mates or not, she still wanted to kill him. If he were awake
right now, instead of sleeping off the anaesthetic, what would she be saying to him?
You’re such an idiot.
Don’t you know better?
What were you thinking?
So you think you’re Superman or something?
Maggie squeezed her fingers together in a knot and allowed herself to exhale. At least if he was asleep he wouldn’t be feeling any pain. Not that she didn’t want him to hurt. Oh, hell yeah, she
did. She wanted him to feel every bit of pain from wilfully disobeying his doctor’s instructions and getting on that stupid board of his when he’d been specifically and repeatedly told not to. He’d winked at her across her kitchen table and grinned, saying ‘I’ll be fine. I’m an Aussie. We’re tough as kangaroo hide.’
A tall, white-coated doctor appeared at the doorway to Cooper’s hospital room,
a polite smile on her face. ‘Oh, hello. How’s our patient?’
‘Hello,’ Maggie replied, stepping away from Cooper’s bed and pressing herself against the wall, her hands tucked behind her back. ‘Still sleeping.’
The doctor pulled a chart from the basket at the end of the bed and flipped the front page over, studying it with a frown.
‘So, how did it go—the operation?’ Maggie asked.
The doctor politely
eyed her up and down. With Maggie, there wasn’t much of an up and down. It didn’t take long to peruse five foot nothing.
‘And you are?’
Maggie cleared her throat. ‘I’m a friend of Cooper’s.’
‘I’m sorry. I can only discuss his condition with family members.’ The doctor considered Maggie. ‘Are you a friend or a
friend
friend?’
Maggie shook her head. ‘Just friends.’
‘Right.’ Doctor Tall was
trying not to smirk. Most people Maggie knew didn’t buy the ‘just friends’ line either, but it was the truth. She could read it in people’s eyes: was there a woman on earth who could be ‘just friends’ with the sexy and successful surfer, Cooper Malone? Yes there was: Maggie was living proof.
‘The thing is,’ Maggie began, trying to sound serious enough to prove her point, ‘His family is back in
Australia. He has two brothers in Sydney who are waiting for me to tell them what’s going on, since clearly he’s in no position to ring them.’
Cooper began to snore. Both women glanced at him.
‘Mmm,’ Doctor Tall murmured.
‘If you can just tell me something that I can tell his brothers, I’m sure they’ll appreciate it.’ Maggie was worried now about the frown on the doctor’s face, which hadn’t
disappeared yet. ‘He will be home in a couple of days, right?’
The doctor considered her response. ‘Tell his family he’ll be needing rest and then some intensive physical therapy. And he’ll have to stay off that knee.’
‘Cooper? Stay off that knee?’
‘Yes,’ the doctor confirmed.
‘For how long?’
‘That’s something I’ll have to discuss with Cooper.’
Maggie chuckled and muttered half under her
breath. ‘Good luck with that.’
‘We’ll be checking on him. And reading him the riot act if necessary. Don’t you worry,’ Doctor Tall said with a smile, at last.
‘Thank you,’ Maggie said as the doctor took one last glance at the sleeping patient and departed.
Cooper Malone was always going to be trouble for someone and as she watched him sleeping, Maggie wondered how on earth it had turned out
to be her.
She checked the time. Her mother would be home with Evan about now, having swung into action and walked the two blocks when Maggie had called with the news that morning. She’d have to tell Evan the latest. He wouldn’t have been able to think of anything else during the school day, and getting him to concentrate on anything was a challenge, considering he had the energy and attention
span of any other five-year-old boy. They’d both been woken that morning by an early phone call from Cooper’s manager and friend, informing them about his surfing accident.
‘What the—?’ Maggie had muttered into the phone, checking the time, still half asleep, and when Evan had appeared at her door in his Spiderman PJs, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, she’d held on to the swear word that was
right on the tip of her tongue.
‘Don’t worry,’ Alfie had told her, his English accent sounding just like a young Michael Caine. It wasn’t actually his real name—it was Gerald—but once Cooper heard that voice, he’d dubbed him Alfie and the moniker had stuck.
‘If he’s in hospital, it’s serious. What’s he done now?’
‘Our boy has done that knee again and the medicos had to go in and do all sorts
of ‘orrible stuff. Makes me queasy just thinking about it.’