by Staci Hart
I picked up the scrambled Rubik’s Cube that sat next to a marble chess set on the long table behind his couch. “I haven’t seen one of these in years. The only way I can do them is by peeling the stickers off.”
“It’s not hard, once you figure it out.”
I laughed. “No way can you solve this. I’ve never seen anyone do it.”
He smirked. “Bet you a kiss.”
I smirked right back and offered it to him. “Deal.”
“Go ahead and mix it up.”
I mixed it up even more than it already was and handed it over.
He took it, turning it over in his hands a few times before getting to work, spinning the cube around. My eyes widened with every turn as the colors came together, click by click by click until it was finished. He handed it over for inspection. It was perfect.
“You’ve got to be kidding m—” His lips were against mine, his tongue slipping into my mouth as he kissed me deep.
He broke away, and I was breathless. “Told you,” he said as he let me go.
I blinked, trying to collect myself, a smile stretching across my lips as I watched him walk around the couch. My eyes found the chess set again, and I picked up a pawn to inspect it.
“This is beautiful, Cooper.”
“Thanks,” he said. “It was my grandfather’s. I never could beat him. He was the smartest man I’ve ever known, and the only person who could beat me at chess.” He chuckled and grabbed a hardback book off the coffee table in his living room with Batman on the cover.
I set the pawn back down and picked up my bag. “So, you’re a DC man, huh?”
He smiled at me appreciatively and glanced at the cover before putting it into his bag. “I like them both, to be honest. But I find I enjoy DC more than Marvel, aside from X-Men. That’s my jam.”
I snickered. “Your jam.” We headed to the door and into the foyer. “Batman seems a little obvious, though. I mean, super-rich dude uses money to fight crime?” I gave him a look and waved a hand over my opulent surroundings.
“Don’t hate.” We stepped into the elevator, and the doors closed.
“Oh, I definitely don’t hate. Just saying, there are a lot of similarities between you and the The Bat.”
He pressed L and leaned back against the rail as he slipped his hands into his pockets. “Bruce Wayne leads this double life — one where he has to pretend to fit in for the sake of appearance and another where he’s doing what he feels he’s meant to do. The sad thing about him is that neither one of those versions are real. They’re two identities, both meant to mask who he really is, and he’s lost somewhere between them. He’s almost as bad as the villains — everything he does is driven by a blind part of himself that can’t move on. He just chooses to do good, or what he perceives as good.”
I shook my head, impressed. “Pretty deep, for a Batman rundown.”
He smiled at me, and my heart sped up. “I’ve read a comic or two.”
“Who knew? Cooper Moore, closet nerd.”
He laughed as the doors opened. “You have no idea.”
I stepped out first, smiling down at the ground.
“Something funny?”
“You just surprise me sometimes.”
He pushed open the door to the building, and as I passed, he whispered, “I’ve got surprises for days.”
I nearly swooned.
We stepped onto the sidewalk, and I felt a little higher, a little lighter as we walked to the corner, the park stretching out across the street, green and inviting.
“So, where did you apply?” he asked.
“Elementary schools and a few charities, but the job I really want is with Project Homestead. I’d be working with the enrichment programs director to plan and teach reading workshops, sort of like library programs for kids, except run entirely out of the shelter.”
“Oh.” There was a strange quality to the word, like that one syllable held layers of meaning.
“What?” I asked earnestly, glancing over at him.
“Their headquarters are near my house.” He put on that smile of his that scrambled my brains.
“And?”
“And I was just thinking how convenient it would be if you were working there.”
I laughed and shook my head as we came to a stop at the corner and he hit the crosswalk button. “Of course you were. Always thinking with your Mini Cooper, aren’t you?”
He gave me a look that might have blown up my panties. “Oh, I don’t think mini would be the adjective most people would use.”
I wet my lips, scrambling for composure under the heat of his gaze. “No, you’re probably right about that. But Giant Hammerhead Cooper doesn’t quite have a ring to it, does it?”
He laughed, the sound deep and easy. “Guess not.”
The city on this side of town was quiet, for New York, at least. The park seemed so peaceful, and we were far enough up 5th to have plenty of distance from the bustle of touristy Midtown. It was no wonder that the area was the residency of choice for, well, anyone who was able to live there.
I could feel him next to me as we crossed the street, even though we weren’t touching. It was the first time we’d been in public together. Like together together. Not that it was a date or anything. Just a walk in the park with my fuck buddy. Totally normal. No big deal.
Discomfort snuck into my brain at the reminder that I shouldn’t be hanging out with him like this. If it weren’t for the gorgeous day and the fact that there was no way Cooper would give up, I might have tried to bail. Maybe. I didn’t know how he was able to talk me into stuff. I mean, outside of him being the most charming bastard I’d ever met in my life. It was like I couldn’t say no. The thought annoyed me.
Two weeks.
I stood up a little straighter as we turned into the park. Being with Cooper felt good, and I didn’t want to fight it. I’d fought enough lately. Right now, I just wanted to coast. A smile played on my lips.
We wandered away from the packed lawn and down a path, cutting off into the grass a ways. We were deep enough that you could barely see the city. It was another great thing about this part of Manhattan. The buildings around the park weren’t towering skyscrapers, but lower, older residences, which made the magic of the park all that much more spectacular. You’d barely even know you were smack in the middle of the biggest city in America.
Cooper stopped and looked around. “What do you think? This work?
“Works for me.” I took off my bag and sat down in the grass.
“Hang on, I brought a blanket.” He pulled it out of his bag and unfurled it.
“That’s too fancy to sit on.”
“That’s not a thing.” He laid it down and stretched out on his back, watching me expectantly. When I didn’t move, he patted the space next to him with what I could only call a come-hither smile.
I shook my head and laughed. “It’s so wrong, Cooper.” I got up anyway and lay down next to him on my stomach.
He pulled his phone out of his pocket and tossed it between us before reaching for his bag. It buzzed almost within a second, and I glanced over.
I didn’t mean to pry. I really didn’t. But I didn’t expect to see boobs on his lock screen either.
Natasha: Missing you. Wish you were here.
Adrenaline shot through me. “Uh, I think you got a message.” I sat up and reached for my bag.
He picked up his phone and laughed. “Mags, wait—”
“Nah, I’m good.” I made to get up, but he grabbed my arm.
“Hey, hang on. Come here and look at this.”
“I just saw plenty.” I tried to get up again, but he pulled me down and moved so I had to look at his stupid, gorgeous face.
“Look through my texts.”
I frowned. “I hardly think that’ll—”
“Maggie, just do it.” He put his phone in my hand.
I made a face at him.
“Like this,” he joked, his voice overly patient as he
unlocked his screen and opened his messages.
Text after text was stacked up in his phone — it looked like a laundry list of sex kitten booty calls. I scrolled back.
Jeanette: Where’ve you been, handsome?
Taylor: Saw Ash tonight, wished you’d been there.
Marie: When can I see you again? It’s been too long.
Chelsea: Lonely tonight. Are you free?
Sarah: Come to Noir tonight. We’re in VIP.
They just kept going. Part of me wanted to barf at the sheer number of women who had texted him with the apparent intent to bone. But a much bigger part of me was shocked that he hadn’t responded to a single one. I looked over to find him still smirking.
“I told you I wouldn’t see anyone else, and I haven’t. I keep my promises, Maggie. Delete their numbers if you want.”
My face scrunched up. “What?”
“Delete them. The numbers.”
“What will you do when we’re through?”
He shrugged and looked at his phone, angling his face just enough that I couldn’t quite see his reaction. “Oh, I’ll manage.”
I handed it to him. “You don’t have to delete them for me. I believe you.”
Cooper took it and flipped over onto his stomach again. “All right, I’ll do it.”
I laughed and reached for it. “Don’t, you’ll regret it.”
He stretched to keep it out of my reach. “Maybe. Maybe not.” He was in a list in his contacts, selecting name after name.
“Oh, my God. Cooper, don’t.”
“You can’t tell me what to do.” He made a dramatic surprised face at me, moving his finger super slowly to the delete button before touching it.
The contacts disappeared.
I gaped at him. “I cannot believe you just did that.”
But he just smiled. “Believe me now?”
“I already told you I believed you, asshole!”
He laughed. “I just deleted a hundred numbers from my phone to make a point. How am I an asshole?”
“Ugh. I don’t know. You drive me crazy.”
God damn that smile. “Then we’re even.” He reached into his bag for his book.
I just sat there for a second as he opened his book like nothing had happened.
I watched him reading, admiring the line of his nose, the curves of his lips and chin. His dark brow and long, black lashes. And then, I sighed and stretched out next to him.
I didn’t get it. He didn’t owe me anything. We’d agreed to the rules, it was true. And the rules were important to me. I really did believe him before he’d emptied out his contacts.
I guess I might have believed him a little more after that, though.
I reached into my bag and pulled out Stardust, laying it out in front of me.
He glanced over. “What are you reading?”
I raised an eyebrow at him. “Don’t be that guy. Didn’t you know that talking to someone while they’re reading a book ups the likelihood of you getting stabbed by like four hundred percent?”
“I think I read that once,” he said with a laugh and turned the page. It was a large spread, a detailed illustration of a dark street, all shadows with streaks of light from the lamps, Batman in the shadows with just enough light on him to catch the details of his silhouette.
“Pretty sure there’s a statistic about reading over shoulders too.”
I chuckled, not realizing I’d been leaning to get a better look. “Sorry. I don’t read a lot of comics. It really is beautiful.”
“It is. And the stories … there’s just something elemental about them. Good versus evil. Balance. Justice. And none of the characters are perfect. Sometimes the good guys lose and the bad guys win. But you keep turning the pages because they don’t stop trying. Neither side gives up.”
I bumped him in the shoulder. “You’re a big ol’ softy, Coop.”
He smiled at me, eyes on my lips. “Don’t tell anybody.”
I smiled back. “Deal.”
He leaned in for a kiss, and I backed away laughing. “Rules! You are such a liar. This is a date, which means I should go.”
I tried to get up, but he grabbed me, pulling me back down. I fell, caught off balance, laughing when my back hit the ground. I was half in the grass, looking up at him. The sky was so blue behind him, the cherry blossom branches, heavy with flowers, framing his face.
“I’m sorry. I’ll be good. It’s not a date. Because what romantic date would involve books?”
“Uh, I’m thinking all of them should. I’m just saying. Books are sexy.”
“Even comic books?”
“Sure. If you’re fourteen.”
He made a face. “How is Batman not sexy?”
I laughed, and so did he. He was propped on one arm, eyes soft as he reached for my hair. I might have stopped breathing. When his hand reappeared, there was a cherry blossom between his thumb and forefinger.
At that point, I was pretty ready to say fuck the rules myself.
But Cooper proved to be a man of his word. Behave himself, he did. He leaned away and turned his attention back to his book, and I lay next to him to open mine once more. I had to read the same page four times before I finally calmed down enough to actually absorb it.
Cooper was just being Cooper. I wasn’t special — he was like this with everyone, I was sure. This was his normal, even if was my extraordinary.
HYPNODICK
Cooper
“PERFECT, COOPER. HOLD IT RIGHT there.”
I hung off the ropes of my ship, staring off into the distance with Manhattan stretched up behind me. We were anchored just off Governor’s Island in the middle of a gorgeous sunset. The sky had shifted from crisp blue to golds and pinks, exploding in color against the clouds.
Five women and one dude stood on the deck — the photographer, her assistant, a stylist, a makeup artist, and editor, and a journalist. I’d changed clothes twice, had my hair retouched half a dozen times, answered fifty questions, had about a kabillion photos taken of me, and was in desperate need of a drink.
The camera clicked away as the boat rocked gently. The photographer lowered her lens and smiled. “All right. Can you do that thing with the rope again? Like, undo it and redo it again.”
I chuckled. “Sure.” I grabbed the mainsail’s halyard and pulled hand over hand to lower it.
The journalist, Elena, jotted in her notebook from where she sat on deck, leaning against the rope guardrail. “What are your favorite vacation spots?”
I unhooked the halyard and untied the stop knot before reversing the process. “Greece and Istanbul. There’s more culture and beauty in the Mediterranean than anywhere else in the world.”
“Have you ever sailed there?”
“I’ve sailed the Mediterranean, yes, but I haven’t crossed the Atlantic. Not yet, at least.”
“Why not?”
I smiled at her over my shoulder. “Because I don’t know if I’d ever come back.”
Everyone chuckled. I retied the knot and slipped the halyard in the groove, then grabbed the rope and hoisted the sail again.
“You know,” Elena said with a dramatic air, “you almost weren’t considered because of your connection to Astrid Thomas.”
“Is that so?” The sail hit the top of the mast, and I tacked it off. I hung my hands on my hips and looked up to make sure everything was right as the shutter clicked.
“It is. Our sources determined it wasn’t serious, though.”
I shot her a sardonic smile. “You’d know best, I’m sure.”
“The tabloids love to speculate about the women you’re seen with who aren’t Miss Thomas. A bit of a player, are you?”
“That’s what the gossip magazines say, so it must be true.”
She looked a little embarrassed.
I smiled at her, shooting for comforting, but she pressed on.
“It’s an easy assumption to make, wouldn’t you say?”
I shrugged. “It’s all
about perspective, I suppose.”
The photographer lowered her camera and looked back through a few pictures. “These are great. Can I get you to take your shirt off, please?”
“Yeah, sure.” I reached behind me and grabbed the back of my shirt, pulling it over my head.
The camera clicked so many times, I didn’t know how she had any memory left on her card.
I tossed my shirt into the center of the deck and ran a hand through my hair. “Where do you want me now?”
The photographer’s assistant wet her lips and pushed her glasses up her nose.
She glanced around, coming to rest on the cockpit. “Come over here and stand at the wheel.”
I climbed off the deck and got behind the wheel, and the photographer lay in front of me.
Elena turned the page of her notebook. “So you received a degree from Columbia. Any plans for what’s next, career-wise?”
“Not if I can help it.”
She laughed and shook her head. “The heir to a billion-dollar fortune has no job aspirations? Your father doesn’t have big plans for you at Moore & Co?”
“No plans for now. Would you be an investment banker if you didn’t have to be?”
“No, but I’m terrible at math.” She jotted in her notebook. “So, are things with Astrid Thomas serious?”
I bristled. “Astrid’s a private woman, and I respect that. I’m sure you can imagine what it’s like to live in the public eye.”
She nodded, seeming to let it go. “Fair enough. So, what’s stopped you from settling down for good?”
“I guess it’s just never been the right time before, the right girl.”
“But there have been a lot of girls.”
I glanced over at her, smiling. “Yes, there have.”
“I mean, with so much time on your hands, I’d guess you’ve had girlfriends all over the world. If those know-it-all gossip mags have any truth to them, you’ve got one in every major city on every continent.”
“And a dozen kids, a secret Russian wedding, and a plastic surgery mishap.”
She snickered and switched directions, seeming to take the hint. “So, tell me about your dream girl.”