by Vi Keeland
I already know everything she’s confessing, but it means a lot that she decides to share it with me. I kiss the top of her forehead. “I’m sorry. How bad is it?”
“The house is mortgaged for more than it’s worth and there was barely any life insurance after they deducted the loans my father had taken. He was an all-or-nothing type of man. Didn’t do things halfway. It was great when he was on a winning streak. But when he was losing, he didn’t stop until he had nothing left but the shirt on his back. He was missing the in-between gene.”
“And your brother?”
“He’s doing okay, health-wise at least, right now. We don’t burden him with any of the financial stuff. He’s already been burdened more than any other teenager should have to be.”
“Will the prize money get them out of debt, or is it just a temporary fix?”
“It depends.”
“On what?”
“On if I make it to the final four or the end. The final four is a Band-Aid. The end makes the problem go away.”
“I see the way he looks at you. You’re definitely making the final four.”
“I thought you didn’t stay to watch today?” She lifts, perching her head up on her elbow, and looks down at me.
Time for a little of my own confessions. “I’ve been sort of watching the dailies of the show every morning.”
“Sort of?”
“Maybe ‘sort of’ isn’t the right term.”
“What would be the right term?”
“‘Religiously’ might work.”
“You’ve been religiously watching the dailies of the show every morning?”
“Hence the unproductiveness I mentioned earlier.”
We’re both quiet for a while, and then I say what I’ve been thinking about since Damian Fry delivered the background report on Kate and her family. “Let me help you.”
“What do you mean?”
I shift, easing her to her back, and sift my fingers through her loose hair. “I’ll give you the money you need.”
“That’s sweet. But I can’t do that.”
“Why not?”
“I can’t take money from you, Cooper.”
“Then consider it a loan. You can pay me back someday.”
“I’ll never be able to pay you back. The bank was right in turning down my application. My student loans will strangle me for the next ten years.”
“I can’t watch you with him, Kate.”
“So stop watching.”
“You act like I have a choice.”
“You do. It’s easy. Don’t press play. Plus, there hasn’t been anything happening worth watching.”
“He’s in love with you.”
“He is not. But even if he was, it wouldn’t matter.”
“It matters to me. Were you telling me the truth when you said you haven’t slept with him?”
“Is that what you think of me? I’m lying here in bed with you. Do you think I’d be doing that if I was sleeping with him?”
“I can’t think straight anymore, Kate.” I yank through my hair.
“That’s why this wasn’t a good idea.” She rolls away from me and sits up. “I shouldn’t have come.”
Like a fool, I say nothing, instead only watch as she goes to the bathroom and comes out dressed. “I called a cab,” she says quietly, her eyes purposefully avoiding mine. “But then I realized I don’t know your address.”
“Come back to bed.”
“Just tell me your address so I can go.”
“No.”
“No?”
“If you really want to go home, I’ll take you. But you’re going to listen first.”
She doesn’t agree, but she doesn’t make any attempt to move to the bed either. So I move to her, not bothering to put on any clothes or cover up. It throws her off guard. “Kiss me.”
“What? No.”
“Damn it, Kate.” I cup her head and seal my mouth over hers. Her flimsy attempt to protest is quickly swallowed by a moan as her body sags into my arms. My heart is raging in my chest as I lift her and carry her back to bed.
“Cooper …”
I cut her off. “Shhh … tomorrow. We’ll figure it out tomorrow.”
chapter twenty-three
Kate
Stubble. If I thought Cooper Montgomery was a god cleanly shaven, wearing a custom-tailored suit, it was only because I’ve never seen him in ripped jeans, a dark t-shirt and stubble. Jesus. The man does things to me. Seeing him standing at the stove, suddenly the speech I’d rehearsed in my mind has escaped me.
“Morning.” He grins at me and eyes my stealing his dress shirt again with approval.
“Coffee?”
“Kiss first.” He crooks his finger in my direction with a steely gaze.
I roll my eyes like it’s the ultimate sacrifice as I lazily shuffle over to him.
He grabs my ass with one hand and directs my head to where he wants it with the other. The hand on my backside swats with a hard smack when he releases my mouth.
“What was that for?” I rub the stinging cheek of my ass.
“For rolling your eyes at me.” Strangely, I think to myself that I’ll need to remember to roll my eyes more often.
“I thought you didn’t cook?” I peer at the three burners he has going.
“I don’t.”
“Looks like you know what you’re doing.”
“I said I didn’t cook. I never said I didn’t know how. Sit. I’ll pour your coffee.”
“Bossy,” I mumble under my breath, but take the seat he points to on the other side of the counter.
“You must be difficult to work for.”
Cooper cocks one eyebrow. “And why is that?”
“Because you’re so bossy.”
“My employees don’t tend to be as difficult as you.” He slides a mug over to me.
“Is that so?”
“It is.”
“Do you have a lot of female employees?”
“Would it bother you if I did?”
“I’m not sure.” I shrug and consider it. “It might. But that’s not why I asked.”
“Okay. Well about half of my department heads are women.”
“And do you find any of them bossy?”
A wry grin crosses his perfectly masculine face. “You think I have an issue with women in general?”
“Maybe.” I sip my coffee.
Cooper plates breakfast and walks around the island to join me at the stools. He leans down, sweeps the hair from my shoulder and tenderly kisses my neck. His words vibrate on my skin. “You’re the only woman I have an issue with.”
Belly full, I fork the remnants of breakfast around my plate, delaying the inevitable. The conversation is bound to come. “I seem to overeat when I’m with you,” I say, finishing the last of the bacon.
“That’s good. I like to watch you eat.”
“Well if I ate like this often, I’d gain ten pounds in a month.”
“Not with lots of exercise.”
“I’m not really great about getting to the gym. Twice-a-week yoga if I’m being good.”
“There are plenty of other ways to burn calories I think you might enjoy better.” Cooper kisses my mouth and takes my plate to the sink.
He turns around, leaning against the counter and folds his arms. “You ready to have that talk?”
“Not really.”
“Oh. But I have an idea to make things interesting.” He turns, opens a drawer, pulls out a pack of cards, and tosses them on the counter.
“We’re going to play cards?” I furrow my brow.
“Yep. I have some ideas. But you may not like a few of them. So we’re going to play a hand to decide our stalemates. You in?”
“You do know I’m pretty good at playing, right?”
Cooper grins. “I do. But I plan to throw off your game by distracting you.”
“And how will you do that?”
“We’re going to play naked.”
/> I look up at him with raised eyebrows. “Confident your nakedness will throw me off, are you?”
Cooper draws down his pants, his semi-hard erection springing free. Damn. Commando. He leisurely strokes his cock a few times. My eager eyes follow the slide of his hand up and down. My mouth salivates when a tiny drop glistens at the tip of the wide crown.
“Kate.” My eye leap to his, but he keeps stroking and my gaze falls victim to the ever-growing swell. “If your concentration isn’t rattled enough, I’m going to use my mouth on your sweet pussy until you can’t see the cards straight.”
“Oh.” I try to force my thoughts out of the gutter and focus.
“You ready?”
“Do I have a choice?”
He grins. “Not really.”
“I think your real plan was to get me out of my clothes so I couldn’t run away after you told me that.”
“It was a light investigation. I do more on my employees.”
“And you run background checks on women you date too?”
“So we’re dating?”
“You know what I meant.”
“If we were dating, maybe I wouldn’t have had to figure out what was going on myself. Maybe you would have shared it with me.”
“I did share it with you.”
“Last night.”
“So?”
“I needed to know what I was up against before that.”
“So you invaded my priva …” I trail off, my eyes getting caught in his web of actions again. He’s sitting against the headboard, naked as a jaybird, with me between his legs, facing him—wearing a matching outfit. And he starts stroking again just as I’m about to yell at him.
“I know what you’re doing,” I swallow and say.
“And do you like watching me do it?” His mouth curves to an impish smile. This is going to be more difficult than I thought.
“I’ll start.”
“Okay,” I say with trepidation.
“I want to be with you. Do you want to be with me?”
“Yes … but …”
He holds up his hand. “Let’s take baby steps. I’ve thought this through all morning.”
“Okay.”
“So we’ve got the most important thing established. We want to be together. The rest will take some negotiation.”
“I think you’ve figured out something we both already knew. The hard part is how to get through the next five weeks.”
“I’d like you to quit the show today. I understand you want to help your family. I find it noble actually. But my first preference is to pay off the debt for you. I have the money and it would make me happy to help.”
“I can’t do that, Cooper.” It’s tempting, truly it is. Even the thought of having a little of the load I shoulder lifted, makes me feel like someday I really will have my own life back again. But I need to take care of my family before that can happen.
“That’s an impasse. We’ll play a hand for that decision.” Cooper removes the cards from their box.
I squint my eyes, watching him. Something in the way his jaw flexes lights the bulb over my head. “I’ll shuffle and deal,” I say, extending my hand.
“Are you concerned I might cheat if given the opportunity?”
I don’t respond verbally. Instead I deal out five cards each, suits facing up. Cooper’s hand miraculously has four queens. “Did you think four aces would be to obvious?”
The corner of his mouth twitches. “Maybe.”
I scoop up the cards. “You want to settle things this way. We’ll do it, but we’ll do it fair and square.” I shuffle the cards with one hand like a pro.
Cooper loses the first hand. “You even beat me without your lucky chip.”
“You’re probably one of the few people I can beat without my lucky chip.”
“You really believe in superstition that much?”
“No, you’re just that bad.”
“Maybe your brand of superstition just doesn’t work for me.”
“You prefer blowing on dice to a lucky chip?”
“Dice is definitely not what I prefer you blowing on.” Cooper’s hand drops and my eyes follow the firm stroke of his hard on.
“Stop that,” I scold.
“Fine. But we need rules then. If you’re going back to the show.”
“What kind of rules.”
“Rule one—No sex with anyone but me. That’s a given.”
“Done,” I say. Easy decision there.
“No kissing.”
“But at the ceremony … we always have to kiss him when we get picked.”
“So I can stick my tongue in Tatiana’s mouth?”
“Has it been there before?”
“That’s not the point. If you’re okay with kissing, you won’t mind if I say hello to Tatiana with my tongue.”
“Rule two—no tongue kissing,” I grumble.
“You make it through to the final four, collect the prize money, then quit. I’ll loan you the money to pay off your mother’s debt, and you can pay it back after your student loans are paid off.”
“That’s ten years.”
“I’m not worried about it.”
“Impasse.” I hold out the cards. “Can I trust you to deal this time?”
“Maybe you should deal. My hands have better things to do.” He strokes himself, then reaches out and pinches my nipple.
“It’s not going to work.” It’s totally working.
I deal quickly.
I win again. I would never have guessed I’d be happy to win paying off my own student loans.
“Miles wants to use our family home in Barbados to house the contestants the last two weeks. I’m going to let him. The contestants will stay in the guesthouse. I want you to be comfortable; there’s a room I want you to stay in there. Dickhead will stay at a hotel.”
“I’d love that.”
“There’s more.”
His face is apprehensive. I feel like I’m on a roller coaster. One minute I’m riding high, packing my imaginary bags for a week in Barbados. The next minute, I’m perched at the top, my stomach hurling to a nervous drop as I wait for the free-fall that’s about to come.
“You took your brother out of therapy.”
I quirk an eyebrow. “A light background investigation, huh?”
“The investigator might have gotten carried away.”
Sure, the investigator got carried away. “The therapy is still considered experimental. The insurance doesn’t cover it.”
“I want to pay for the therapy.”
“I can’t let you do that. But it’s sweet of you to offer. Really.”
“Impasse.”
“This doesn’t even have to do with me or the show.”
“Does it cause you stress that he’s not going to therapy?”
“Yes.”
“Then it’s related. Deal.”
Not even the best players can win every hand. I try in earnest, but lose.
“Good thing I won that one.”
“Why is that?”
“Because I paid the therapist over the phone before you got out of bed this morning.”
chapter twenty-four
Cooper
I’ve never understood why people slow and stare at a bad car accident. They know they’re going to witness something horrible, something the mind won’t be able to rewind and unsee. Yet the more gore, the bigger the traffic backup. I’ve always been the guy to curse the idiots in front of me riding their brake lights as they passed the mangled pile of steel. I refuse to let unbridled curiosity get the best of me, never allowing my head to turn despite the powerful pull of the wreckage.
Yet here I am, sitting in my car, staring at the front door, knowing there’s an accident waiting to happen right on the other side. But there’s not a goddamn thing I can do to stop myself from going in. She made me promise not to watch the taped show tomorrow. Technically I’m not breaking the promise—I never said I wouldn’t come to watch t
he live filming tonight. Each morning I have to restrain myself from hurling the laptop across the room. I can’t imagine it won’t be a million times harder to stop myself from walking through the door and knocking Dickhead on his ass. A string of curses litters the air as I stomp from my car to the house.
“Coop! I didn’t know you were coming.” Miles actually looks happy to see me. Unfortunately, the sentiment isn’t returned, although my scowl actually has nothing to do with my little brother for a change.
“Miles.” I nod.
“You came at a good time. The ladies are sufficiently loose. We plied them with liquor, now it’s time to unleash the bachelor and watch the horns start to rise from their pretty little heads.” He rubs his hands together like a child unable to contain his excitement. “I’m going to go check in on Flynn. Have a drink—we just brought out one of the two rolling bars from the shoot.” He slaps me on the shoulder. “Your favorite scotch is in there, although it’s half gone. You and Flynn have similar tastes.”
I stroll straight to the bar, ignoring the cameraman who starts speaking to me, and pull out the Macallan single malt. The bottle is less than half full. Dickhead. Gulping back two fingers worth, I slam the tumbler down.
“Bad day?” Joel Blick, the director, reaches over the bar and grabs a glass. He pours himself a double and tips the bottle to me asking if I want a refill. I slide my glass in his direction.
“You could say that.” I nod my glass to him before drinking.
“Well, maybe a little girl-on-girl catfight will cheer you up. There’s a storm brewing amongst the contestants tonight.”
“What’s it about?”
“The bachelor.” He finishes his drink. “What else?”
“Which girls?”
“All the camera’s favorites. Jessica, Mercedes and Kate. They were going at it pretty good. Got heated. But now, after the alcohol and bringing Flynn into the game … I wouldn’t be surprised if the early rumbling leads to a big explosion.”
“You have the argument in the can?”