The Irresistible Mr Cooper

by Roslyn Carrington

  “I’m not playing. I want to be with you. What do you want?”

  The thrill of being suspended, with her feet not touching the floor, left her breathless. “This. You.”

  The lines around his mouth were like ripples radiating outward from the center of a pool. “You can have me. Anywhere you want. Any way you want.” Still holding her aloft, he twirled slowly until her back was to the bed. He set her down, among her many pillows, and stretched himself out upon her. He smelled of smoke.

  They kissed until her mouth was tired. Until the bed started spinning. Only then did they undress. On her back again, she marveled at how her ceiling had receded so far. It was a galaxy away. The room looked boundless.

  Mitchell was concerned with more terrestrial things. With his knuckles, he ruffled what little pubic hair she had left after a meticulous waxing session. The feel of rough bandages sent shock skittering along her sensitive skin. “Didn’t figure you for a landing strip sort of girl,” he commented.

  “What kind of girl did you figure me for?”

  The muscles of his shoulders bunched as he shrugged. “As far as pubic topiary goes? I don’t know. I’m hardly a connoisseur.” He lightly kissed her landing strip, and all the tingling skin around it. “But as far as women go? I think you’re soft. Sweet.”

  She was astounded. “That’s not the reputation I have back in the office. Folks back there’d say I’m a bitch.”

  “That’s just you pretending.”

  “And you know this because . . . ?”

  From his position between her legs he looked up at her, dead serious. “Because I looked into your eyes the last time I made you come.”

  She could think of no fitting response, so she lay back against the pillows and thought instead of the way he chose to end the conversation. Every nerve in her body was focused near the tip of his tongue. He sent sharp stabs of pleasure through her. The gym-toned muscles of her thighs tensed, resisting briefly as he parted them so he could have greater access. He savored her like a man enjoying a rich dessert, taking his time to lick every drop until she was out of breath. She tried to twist away but with strong hands firmly grasping her round butt, he held her right where he wanted her.

  “This isn’t fair,” she panted. “I want to taste you, too.” All he needed to do was spin around so she could draw him into her mouth and together they would form an endless circle of giving and taking.

  “Oh, hell no.”

  She let out a breathy laugh. “I don’t think any other man has ever refused me that before.”

  “I’m not any other man.” With a practiced and decisive swipe of his tongue, he proved his point. When she was halfway clear to think straight again, he added, “I don’t need the distraction. I want to focus on you. Can’t do that if you’re busy short-circuiting my brain.”

  “Ah,” she laughed in little puffy breaths, “the dying brain cells.”

  He was done tormenting her, or at least, Act One was over. With that kind of opening, she wondered what he’d reserved for the grand finale. He positioned himself on top of her and she could feel him poking between her thighs like a thick lance. She lifted her mouth to his, enjoying her own taste. “Oh, wow.”

  “Nice, huh?”

  “Yeah.” She licked at his lips and cheeks like a serpent-tongued succubus, growing more and more excited by her own smell. Getting drunk off her own juices.

  “And you wonder why we guys spend half our lives chasing women. Who wouldn’t want to come home to this?”

  She was touched, deeply moved. “You want to come home to me?”

  He parted her legs with one hand, positioned himself, and slid into her in a single thrust. The shock of contact made her hips buck against him. He had to fight for the breath to say what he needed to. “Burying myself inside you feels like coming home.”

  Then the time for talking was over.

  God knew how much later, as she lay with her head on his bicep and her hand over his heart, she wondered if her bedroom ceiling was returning from the stratosphere anytime soon. Even her bed felt as though it was rocking them slowly, the kind of sensation you got when you stepped off a boat and everything was still moving. His eyes were half-closed, and under her hand his breathing returned to normal.

  Drowsily, she looked around at the fine paintings on the wall, the elaborate light fixtures, a thick pile of the carpet and the expensive cotton sheets that were damp and wrinkled beneath them. Then she remembered his home was a blackened shell. “Will you stay here?”

  He thought about it. Then shook his head. “Thanks, but I don’t know if that’s the right move. I can find a hotel. Don’t worry about me.” He thought some more. “But I’d be grateful. . . . You think you could. . . . ”

  “Let Ruby stay?” she guessed.

  He was hesitant, but nodded. “She likes you. And she needs to be somewhere safe and comfortable until I can fix this. Somewhere my sister . . . can’t find her.” He grimaced at the abhorrent thought of hiding a child from her own mother.

  She answered without hesitating. “I like her too. She’s welcome to stay as long as she likes.”

  His thank you was heartfelt.

  “I lost my home once, too, you know,” she blurted, and then almost clapped her hand to her mouth.

  He lifted his head to better look at her. “Really?”

  She sat up, blanket falling away from her breasts. “Mmm.”

  “Fire?”

  “Foreclosure.”

  “Just as bad. What happened?”

  She was halfway to wishing she hadn’t said anything, but she’d started it, so she had to finish. “My dad worked the assembly line at an auto plant back in Detroit. Nothing fancy: tightening nuts and bolts. He never rose above that. He couldn’t. . . . ” She hesitated, but only for a second. “He could barely read or write.”

  He didn’t comment, but listened intently.

  “You remember how things were back then: the market crashed; plants closed down. My dad got sent home. He’d get something else, and then get sent home again.” She licked her lips. “We lived on welfare for a while. Eventually, he couldn’t keep up with the house payments. My sister and I came home from school one day and all our stuff was in a pile on the sidewalk.”

  “Must have been hard.”

  She answered one understatement with another. “Yeah, sorta.”

  He was waiting, so she wrapped it up. “Long story short, my folks split us up. They sent Jordana to stay with an aunt in Chicago, and I went to my grandfather’s house in Augusta. For a year and a half.”

  He hugged her. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  She shrugged like it didn’t matter. “Just thought I’d tell you, you know, in case you’re wondering why I’m such a. . . . ” She was about to say ‘snob’, but he cut her off.

  “Don’t.”

  “Material things are important to me. I admit that.” She pleaded with her eyes for understanding. “But only because they make me feel safe. I care about my job, and the respect of my peers, but that doesn’t make me a bad person.”

  “If I thought you were, I wouldn’t be here.” He lay back again, and pulled her so she went with him. “Don’t beat yourself up, Jen. Look, it’s late.” He gave her a reassuring cuddle. “We had a bitch of a day. Why don’t we get some sleep?”

  Sounded good to her. She held out her arms, expecting him to fall into them, yearning to wrap herself in his scent and warmth and drift off to sleep. But he was getting out of bed, and . . . getting dressed?

  “Where’re you . . . ?”

  He gave a rueful smile. “Gonna spend what’s left of the night on your couch, if you don’t mind. Don’t want Ruby to wake up and find me here in the morning.”

  She hadn’t thought of that. He was a conscientious parent; she was sounding almost wanton. She flushed. “Sorry.”

  He kissed her on her forehead. “Nothing to be sorry about.” He held his shoes in his hand and slipped the lock on the door, giving her one
last lingering, regretful look before leaving.

  16.

  “Your boyfriend Cooper’s being a real pain in the ass.”

  Jenessa froze, keys halfway to the car door. She steadied herself with one hand against the frame of her pearl-white SUV and turned in the direction of the speaker. Sharona was taking up a lot of space between her car and the one next to them. She was bundled up against the cold in a classic Burberry coat, with a matching bag slung over her shoulder. A thick scarf obscured part of her face, but above it, her eyes burned like bright ice.

  “Pardon?”

  “It seems Mitchell Cooper’s having loyalty issues. This labor dispute isn’t calming down anytime soon, and we’ll need to present a united front if it’s ever going to go in our favor.”

  “We who?”

  Sharona’s eyes were slits. “The executives. Management. Us. Mitchell’s a department head, and that makes him senior. We expected him to stand with the rest of us on this, but the man insists on aligning himself with the troublemakers.”

  “They’re not troublemakers,” Jenessa felt obliged to say. “They’re just people trying to hang on to their livelihoods.”

  “I’m well aware of the effect it’ll have on the people who’re going home.” Sharona sucked her teeth in irritation and corrected herself. “Who should be going home, if it wasn’t for the rabble-rousers who decided to dig in their heels and make this harder than it has to be.”

  It was the end of January, and by rights, the month’s notice given to the unfortunate sixty was soon to expire. But with the unions getting involved it was turning into a full-on skirmish. Injunctions and motions were being lobbed back and forth like balls of flaming tar, and the employees facing layoffs had won themselves a temporary stay. Many executives, who wanted the employees marked for death to pack up and leave without resistance, weren’t amused.

  Sharona was one of them. “I’d expect this kind of behavior from these people, but not from somebody in Mitchell’s position. If anything, he should use his influence to try to get them to stop this nonsense.” She jerked her chubby chins in the direction of the main gates of Bianchi’s. There were eighty to a hundred employees, friends and family members circling, chanting and holding placards. The general strike had started a few days ago, and not only the targeted employees had downed tools. Others who were offended by the move, and who feared their jobs would be next, had joined them. Bianchi’s was in a state of crisis.

  “Mitchell isn’t on strike. As a matter of fact, he’s working through the night to keep the assembly lines moving so there won’t be a complete shutdown. And he’s not inciting anyone to anything. Whatever decisions they make, they make on their own.”

  She could have told Sharona that, as a matter of fact, many of the lower level staff weren’t too happy with the choices he was making. Half of them hoped he’d join them in the strike as a gesture of solidarity. The other half resented him not just for putting in serious overtime as he tried to take up some of their slack, but because his relationship with Jenessa was now an open secret and not everyone liked that he was literally in bed with the enemy.

  She felt sorry for him, trying to fulfill his duty to everyone. He had one foot on each side of an earthquake fault, and when those plates moved all he could do was hang on and stay alive.

  Sharona snorted. “Whatever. We could do without the embarrassment of having a traitor in the senior ranks. He thinks he’s a hero, but maybe you should remind him things didn’t end well for Braveheart.”

  Jenessa realized she was still defensively holding out her keys. Her hand fell to her side. Was that a threat? Was Bianchi’s going to ax Mitchell? On what grounds? “He hasn’t done anything illegal, or against company policy.”

  Sharona took one step closer. “There’re a lot of things people’re doing right now that aren’t against company policy. Doesn’t mean it’s in their best interest to keep doing them.”

  Jenessa felt herself coloring up, but she managed to speak steadily. “Sharona, if you’re referring to my relationship with Mitchell—”

  Again, a snort.

  Jenessa continued. “I know everyone’s talking about it, so we might as well cut to the chase. Yes, I am . . . dating Mitchell, but what we do, we do on our own time. On the job, we’ve been nothing but discreet.” She swallowed, and added firmly, “So I don’t see how this becomes any of your business.”

  “It is my business, because one . . . ” Sharona’s neck rolled like a serpent’s as she enumerated her reasons, “You’re management. Mitchell may be senior staff, but he’s not in your league. Your relationship is therefore inappropriate.”

  Jenessa gasped. “That’s not for you to judge!”

  “Two,” Sharona went on unperturbed. “Since you are management, I’d think you’d know which side of the battle line you belong on. Because yes, it is a war. And you can’t be busting your butt by day trying to make the stink of this thing go away and then go home at night and roll onto your back for someone you damn well know is part of the problem.”

  Sharona’s crudeness was like an ungloved slap. For a few seconds, Jenessa was speechless.

  Sharona nodded. “Oh, you hanging your mouth open? Didn’t think I’d go there? Don’t let all this fool you.” With a gesture, she indicated her meticulous grooming, all the way down to her expensive high-heeled boots. “Under this, I’m as ghetto as you are.” She brought her mouth to Jenessa’s ear and hissed, “I’ve read your records. I know where you’re from. You think because you’re sporting fancy duds and swinging all that yellow hair around, everything you ever were and everything that ever happened to you would cease to exist? Well, I have news for you. You are what you are. You can cover it up with perfume, but people like you and me will always stink of the projects.”

  She straightened up and put her hands on her hips. “Which brings me to my next point. Do you realize that if that fine hunk of ass that’s always strutting around—”

  “Sharona,” Jenessa said tightly, “you’re crossing the line.”

  Sharona storm-troopered on. “Do you realize if he and his friends get their way and plans for Japan get sunk, you and I will both be out in the cold?” Sharona was so upset she was grinding her teeth. “Now, you listen good. I worked my ass off in this company for years. This move to Japan’s going to bring me everything I’ve ever wanted. And I’m not the only one.” She tapped her chest and then pointed at Jenessa. “If I move up, you move up. I’ve spoken to Tony, and it’s only a formality. The vice president job is yours.” She paused for effect. “Unless. . . . ”

  The chants of the strikers outside the gate sounded inordinately loud. They were giving Jenessa a headache. “Unless what?”

  “Unless your boyfriend and those people have their way. If Japan gets put on the shelf, I’m going to be pretty pissed off. And you, my dear girl, are going to be resting that round little butt in the same old chair until thy kingdom come. Roll that around in your head next time you’re dropping your panties for—”

  “Sharona!” Jenessa exploded. “My personal life is my own and I’ll thank you to—”

  “I’ll thank you to think hard about whether the sugar he’s giving you is worth it. For the sake of your career.”

  “Are you suggesting I break up with Mitchell?”

  Sharona smile was a tight grimace. “Oh, my dear, I’d never do that. That would be a violation of your rights. But as your mentor, as your friend . . .” the last word was dripping with honey and irony “. . . I’m saying that sometimes you gotta do what you gotta do.”

  Jenessa felt her body sag against her car. The Japan dilemma had been on her mind, but each time it popped up, she pushed it back down. There were only two options and they were both untenable. If the employees won their case, and got Bianchi’s to put the move to Japan into cold storage, sixty people would be off the breadline, but with that, her dreams would be frozen. On the other hand. . . .

  She was cold and weary, and wanted nothing more th
an to climb into her car, turn on the heater and the radio, and zone out.

  But Sharona wasn’t done yet. She placed one hand against the car door, and though she was much shorter than Jenessa—and that was saying something—she was all up in her face. “Well, if you’ve gotten addicted to the regular servicing he’s giving you—and looking at him, I’m sure he knows how to throw down—I should let you know: there’s another way you can help the cause.”

  Jenessa wanted to look away, but Sharona had expanded to fill all the space around her.

  “I’m sure he talks to you about the situation. You do talk, don’t you?” She didn’t wait for an answer. “If you could glean any information . . . for example, if he might happen to let drop any moves the strikers are going to make . . . perhaps you’d be kind enough to share it.”

  “You want me to spy on him?”

  “Why do you have to be so dramatic? As manager, you have the right to pass on any info that might help the company. Matter of fact, it’s not your right; it’s your duty.”

  The suggestion was so ridiculous Jenessa almost laughed, but the shock and horror she felt reminded her this was no laughing matter. She answered slowly and carefully, so she wouldn’t be misunderstood. “Sharona, I will not . . . there’s no way I’d—”

  “Ssh.” Sharona shushed her like a child. “Don’t say anything; think. Think hard about what you want, where you came from and where you want to go. Then ask yourself if you’re going to let big ol’ green eyes and a pair of long legs get in your way. Because I’m not gonna.”

  Sharona sashayed off, swinging her hips as if they just shared a chat between girlfriends. Jenessa’s briefcase fell to the ground. Her skin was crawling; she had the urge to scratch herself all over. She ran her fingers along her throat. She could feel hives rising.

  Suddenly she was naked, standing in the Garden of Eden and a serpent was dangling temptation before her. Fulfillment. Power. Recognition, status and money.

  And all she needed to do was betray Mitchell.