She blinked, then slowly turned her face to him. “Don’t need to do what?”
“You know . . . find company,” he said.
She smiled as if that amused her and turned her body fully toward him. “Do you honestly think someone like me,” she said, gesturing to her body, “would need to come to a bar like this to find company?”
When she put it like that, the answer was a resounding no. Emma was the sort of woman who could have who she wanted, where she wanted, when she wanted.
“It’s none of your business, but I’m meeting someone. What do you want, Cooper?”
He was feeling a little stung for having stupidly assumed the reason why she was sitting here alone. “I came for a drink. But when I saw you here, I thought, no time like the present. We have some unfinished business.”
She arched a brow. “No, it’s definitely finished,” she said casually, but she wrapped her hand tightly around her glass, giving her tension away.
“Let me buy you a drink and we’ll talk about it.” Cooper lifted his hand to get the bartender’s attention.
“Hey—” She put her hand on his arm, pulling it down. “No thanks.”
“Don’t read too much into it. I’m just being friendly. We find ourselves in the same bar in Colorado. We’re two acquaintances having a drink and talking a little.”
Emma leveled a cool, green-eyed gaze on him. “How interesting that at first you thought I was here to meet up with some random guy, and when you find out I’m not, you decide you should buy me a drink, just like some random guy. Double standard, Cooper Jessup.”
“Not at all the same thing,” he said, although he felt another slight sting—Emma was right, he’d reverted to random guy without thought. “I know you, so this seems reasonable.”
“I know you, too. But I don’t want to talk to you and shouldn’t have to. That seems reasonable, too.”
“All the more reason to buy you a drink,” he said. “I’m really not that bad. We’ve had a slight misunderstanding here, that’s all. As I recall, we had a pretty good time the last time we saw each other. Remember?”
“I remember. But that was before you falsely accused me of taking something from someone.”
“Not falsely,” Cooper said, and smiled, nudging her with his shoulder. “Come on, Emma. A drink doesn’t mean anything other than I’m trying to be nice.”
“I’m not interested in nice. Haven’t you figured that out about me? Nice is not in my vocabulary.”
“Well, now you’re just hurting my feelings,” Cooper teased her.
That earned him a slight curve upward of the corner of her very lush mouth. How was it this woman wasn’t on the silver screen? On the arm of every major player in Hollywood instead of doughboys like Carl? Even with that tiny hint of a smile, her eyes lit. She was unbelievably beautiful.
“Better I hurt your feelings now than later, don’t you think? Because you and me?” she said, moving her finger between them, indicating them both. “We’re never going to be drinking buddies.”
“Wow, you are so adamant about that,” he said with mock concern. “That’s the second time today you’ve cut right to the bone. Okay, fair enough,” he said, and lifted his hands in surrender. “No drink. We’ll do this your way. Which, I will point out, is the hard way, but if that’s what you want—”
“Great! Now that we’ve established we won’t be having a friendly drink,” she said, “there is no need for you to smash in between me and the lady behind you.” She smiled and pointed away from the bar. “You can move on now.”
But the pager on the bar in front of the elderly woman began to vibrate and blink. Her table was ready, and the woman slid off her stool and gathered her purse.
Cooper smiled victoriously as he plopped down on the barstool next to Emma. “Mind if I sit?”
“Cooper!” Emma gave him a little laugh, softening a little. “Seriously, go and bother someone else. I don’t want to be friends.” But she was smiling as she shoved his shoulder with her hand as if trying to push him off his stool. “Go away. Go back to LA and stunt work and Jill.”
“You know about me and Jill, huh?”
“Who doesn’t?”
“You, apparently,” he said, and caught her wrist when she tried to push him again. “I haven’t seen Jill in weeks. I think I’ll stay right here. I’ve decided I like bothering you.”
Emma groaned. She pulled her hand free of his. “I think you honestly believe that if you make a pest of yourself, I will confess something to you.” She snorted. “Won’t happen. I’ve seen a lot pushier than you.”
“I’m not pushy, I’m determined. There’s a difference. I’ve been hired to do a job and I’m going to do it.”
“Determined. Pushy. Annoying. All the same thing,” Emma said, and clinked her glass to his.
“You know what else? I think you like me bothering you,” he said. “You know what they say, the bigger the bark, the bigger the attraction.”
Emma laughed at his joke, the sound of it light and fluffy. It had a peculiar effect on Cooper—it felt almost as if he’d had a little too much to drink for a moment. A woozy, soft feeling swept through him on a whisper and evaporated into thin air.
“No one says that! You totally made it up!”
“Maybe,” he said with a grin. “So look, you won’t have a drink, you won’t be nice, and so I’ll leave you alone on one condition.”
“No.”
“Don’t you want to know what that condition is?”
She shook her head no, but then said impatiently, “Okay, what?”
He looked around them and leaned in closer to her. Emma twisted around to face him, so that her knees brushed against his thigh. Cooper found himself staring into a pair of green eyes with gold flecks in them. “No one’s around right now, Emma. It’s only you and me. Hand to God,” he said, pressing his palm against his chest, “whatever you tell me stays with me.”
A smile slowly spread across her lips, illuminating her eyes again. Damn, but she was pretty when she smiled. Why the hell didn’t Emma just smile? She could clear a path in this bar with that smile, could put the world at her feet.
“That’s not a condition. That’s begging.”
“Here’s the condition: you can kiss me like you wanted to do so badly that night in Beverly Hills if you tell me about Carl’s box.”
Emma blinked. And then she laughed. “You’re funny, Cooper Jessup! And weird. Funny in a very weird way.”
“Don’t try and charm me, it won’t work.”
She laughed again and looked at his mouth, as if she was considering the condition. His blood was beginning to race a little.
“You have it all wrong. You wanted to kiss me. I never wanted to kiss you,” she said.
“Not true,” he said, his gaze on her mouth now.
“Totally true. You’re not my type.” She locked her eyes on his. “Not at all.”
Her eyes were glittering with delight. Cooper could see how Carl had been drawn in—he probably fell the moment Emma smiled, probably promised her the moon and stars, because that’s the kind of guy he was. Cooper was teetering, but he wouldn’t fall. He knew when he was being played.
He leaned closer, rested his hand on her knee. “What’s your type, Emma Tyler?”
“Older, fat guys.”
He chuckled.
Emma didn’t.
“Okay, so here’s a new condition. I’ll go back to LA like you want, leave you to mine Pine River for older, fat guys, if you give me that box with the medal in it. I know you have it, and for reasons that don’t make any sense to anyone but you, you’re lying about it. Listen, it’s no skin off my nose, and it’s no big deal to give it back. It will be forgotten by tomorrow, so why drag it out?”
Emma smiled coquettishly at his hand on her knee. She curled her finge
rs around his palm, and for a moment, Cooper believed she was going to tell him the truth. But when she lifted her gaze, there was a distance there. “Try and listen, cowboy,” she said softly. “I don’t have whatever it is Carl thinks he lost. Now here’s an idea. I’ll walk over to Tag’s with you right now and buy you a trinket for Carl and you can take it back to him. How’s that?”
“Unacceptable.”
She laughed, amused. She picked up her drink, lazily licked a drop of condensation from the side of the glass as she considered him. Cooper languidly imagined those green eyes staring up at him from a bed somewhere. His gaze slipped to her mouth once more, and down, to the vee of her sweater, and the small, pear-shaped diamond that hung there.
He decided to try another tack before he did something stupid. Like touch her. Kiss her. Put his mouth on the hollow of her neck where that necklace hung, where he could feel her pulse. Or the spot where her neck curved into her shoulder. Jesus, what are you doing? “Okay, I give up,” he blurted.
Emma blinked with surprise. “What’s the twist?”
“No twist. I concede that you obviously don’t have it, because no one would work this hard to hide something so meaningless.”
Her lashes fluttered, with guilt or relief, he supposed, or a mix of both. “At last,” she said. “Now may we please return to you being mildly acquainted with me in LA, and me here in Pine River not caring about you?”
“Sure,” Cooper said, ignoring her digs. Maybe that worked on other men, but not on him. He drummed his fingers on the table. “Carl probably moved it and forgot what he did with it anyway,” he said. “He doesn’t strike me as the most observant kind of guy.”
With one long, manicured finger, Emma traced a line around the rim of her glass. “Maybe his wife came and picked it up.”
So she knew that it had belonged to his wife.
Emma swept her hair around and over her shoulder, exposing the nape of her neck to him.
Cooper looked away, took a strong slug of his drink. Stop it. Yeah, okay, she was beautiful, but Cooper was around beautiful women all the time. Beautiful sane women. Maybe Michael was right. Maybe he’d gone too long without a relationship, without regular sex. Too much testosterone was building up and all of that. “Anyway, I’m sick of talking about Carl Freeman,” he said, and signaled the bartender.
“Well, that definitely makes two of us.”
“So let’s talk about something else,” Cooper said. “Like why you took off from LA.”
Emma arched a golden brow. “What makes you think I took off?”
“Because CEM told me you’d quit and left town. Your boss—Melissa, right? She told me that you were probably here in Pine River.”
For the first time, Emma looked uncertain. “Wow. For someone who claims not to be following me, you sure sound like you’ve been following me.”
“I’ve been looking for you.”
“That sounds like a total violation of my privacy.”
“I think having me look around for you is better than having a private detective look for you. That would have been Carl’s next move. So anyway, why did you leave?”
“Well, it had nothing to do with Carl, that bald bag of wind,” she snapped. “It’s really not complicated, Cooper. I needed a change of view. Haven’t you ever needed a change of view?”
“Sure. But I don’t quit my job for one. I don’t take off overnight.”
She looked as if she intended to argue, but hesitated. She casually touched a lock of hair on his forehead, pushing it aside. He could feel the touch of her finger sink into his skin. “You’re way off base,” she said, and leaned across him and picked up his drink. She deliberately sipped from it, looking at him over the rim of the glass, and put the glass down.
Cooper couldn’t help a small laugh. That move looked so practiced it seemed almost mechanical. He could just imagine it. Innocently touch him, check. Drink from his glass, check. Smile and twist hair around finger, check. “Does that really work? That drink-from-my-glass thing?” he asked, gesturing to his glass. “Do older, fat guys like that?”
Emma’s eyes narrowed. She looked away, but Cooper caught her hand and held it. “I know when I’m being played, Emma. And you’re playing me. You must have some secrets to hide.”
She tried to pull her hand free. “You’re annoying the shit out of me now.”
“And you’re starting to fascinate me.” Even though he found her behavior objectionable and reprehensible—stealing was something he couldn’t tolerate in anyone—he still found her oddly intriguing. What made a woman like her do the things she did? Say the things she did? “If I’m wrong, then explain to me why you’re working for Leo Kendrick.”
She smiled with amusement, and he noticed she no longer tried to free her hand of his. “That’s your burning question?”
“It’s not even remotely close to event planning.”
“No, it’s not,” she agreed.
“So?”
“So, his nurse is on maternity leave. He needed someone to hang out with him during the day so his dad can take care of other things. And I needed—” She abruptly stopped midsentence and seemed to think better of what she was about to say. “I was happy to do it,” she said, averting her gaze. “I wanted to do it.”
That seemed oddly out of character from what Cooper knew. Happy to do it. Wanting to do it. That was not the Emma who was currently residing in his head, whose hand was currently held in his. “Why?” he asked curiously.
“Why?” she echoed. “Because I love Leo.”
Cooper didn’t know exactly what she meant by that. He’d been surprised to find the man behind the flaming van was living in a chair, his body twisted and useless. “What’s wrong with him?”
There was a slight, but noticeable change in Emma’s careful expression. A sliver of concern slipping through, and then a sharper glance of pain. “He . . . he has Motor Neuron Disease. Like Lou Gehrig’s disease. It destroys the muscles and they atrophy until he can’t talk. Or eat.” She looked down at her glass. “Or breathe.”
Cooper felt a flush of guilt and sympathy under his skin, that rush of relief that by the grace of God, he wasn’t afflicted with something so horrible. Emma’s expression had gone placid again. Any sign of emotion had disappeared, replaced by a look of impatience.
“Well! On that cheerful note,” she said, sliding off her stool and pulling her hand free of his, “I’m done.” She hooked her purse over her shoulder and smiled, leaned in, her gaze on his mouth, stirring his blood, making him think of things that had nothing to do with Carl’s medal. “This has been oodles of fun, but just so we’re clear? Don’t bother me again, Cooper.” She brushed against his thigh as she squeezed out from between the barstools and walked away.
He didn’t try and stop her. He watched her walk to the front of the bar until she disappeared into the main dining area.
He turned back to his drink. The bartender was standing there, his thick hands braced against the bar. “Another drink, buddy?”
“Yeah,” Cooper said. “A double.” He drained his bourbon and slid the empty glass across to the bartender.
NINE
“Scoot over, bitches,” Emma said when she reached the booth her sisters had just taken.
“Emma!” Libby cried with surprise.
“What, you didn’t think I’d come?” Emma asked, and waved a hand at her, indicating she should move over.
“Well, your text wasn’t exactly encouraging. I mean, when someone texts maybe it doesn’t actually mean yes,” Libby said, seeming genuinely happy to see Emma. She scooted across the bench.
“Wow, you did come,” Madeline said, nodding approvingly as Emma slipped in beside Libby. “I guess I owe you five bucks, Libs.”
Emma smiled wryly. Madeline did not approve of her, but that didn’t bother Emma; she figured Madeline was r
ight to be wary of her. “I had to come, sweetie,” Emma said with false lightness. “I couldn’t risk missing out on the minutiae of your wedding plans, could I? We’ll be reviewing them in detail again tonight, I assume.”
“Every last one,” Madeline said, and actually laughed. She seemed to be in an unusually jovial mood tonight, because she winked at Emma. “Even you can’t bring me down.”
Emma smiled. “I wouldn’t dream of it. I hope the wedding is everything you ever wanted and more.”
Madeline paused, waiting for a punch line.
There was no punch line—Emma did wish that for her. “Just because I don’t want to hear about it every waking moment doesn’t mean I don’t wish you the best.”
“Yeah, well, it doesn’t necessarily mean you do, either,” Madeline cheerfully pointed out. “Okay, so?” she chirped, leaning forward. “What’s going on with the hunk who appeared from thin air?”
Emma looked between the two women. “You realize that you sound like a fourteen-year-old girl,” she said, sinking back into the seat cushions.
“I can’t help that I’m excited that someone interesting has come into town for you.”
“I think I’m vaguely insulted,” Emma said, and twisted around. “Where the hell is the waiter? Why does it always take two mules and a cart to get a drink in this town?”
“Emma,” Madeline said, tapping her hand. “Are you going to tell us?”
There would be no escaping it, apparently. Emma supposed she’d known that the moment she’d spotted them in the booth, engrossed in conversation, their dark heads leaning across the table toward each other as she sauntered over to them. She’d had a prickly feeling that they were talking about her.
But she wasn’t ready to talk just yet, at least not before she had a drink, and even then she didn’t know what she’d tell them. “What is it about everyone in this town?” she complained with a flick of her wrist. “Is it possible for a man and woman to exchange a few words without everyone trying to put a ring on it? It’s ridiculous.”
The Perfect Homecoming (Pine River) Page 12