Cooper: Casanova Club #8

by Ali Parker

  Cooper and I stepped off the back of the boat. My flippers bent awkwardly, flexing my feet upward, but the water gave way beneath me, and I plunged down beneath the surface. I was wrapped up in azure blue waters and bubbles that climbed up my legs to break above my head.

  Cooper was beside me, and he’d already set himself on an angle so he could start swimming forward. Sprawled before us, about six or so feet down, was a bed of coral. Pops of rich greens and pinks and blues winked at me from down there, chunks of it nestled upon the white sand, set in ripples on the ocean floor.

  The water rushed in my ears as Bob stepped off the boat on my other side. He turned toward me as soon as he was in and gave me the thousandth thumbs-up of the day. I returned the gesture to show him I was okay. Then, without further delay, he dove down.

  I followed after Bob and Cooper.

  The coral rose up to meet me, and as I watched the little tropical fish flit in and out of holes and cracks and crevices, all my worries about diving ebbed away. The anxiety in my chest was replaced by a warm sensation of calm. The sound of my own breath was the only thing that cut through the noise of the water, and it, too, became a reassuring thing. White noise under the sea.

  Cooper swam along below me, rolled onto his back, and waved. I waved back, despite how infuriating I found him.

  I wasn’t sure how it was possible, but I could tell he was smiling, even with his scuba mask on. There was something about the line of his jaw, about the twinkle in his eye that promised a hint of amusement. Or happiness.

  Maybe this moment was as glorious for him as it was for me. Of course, it would be a hell of a lot more glorious if I were there with anyone but him.

  When Bob swam up ahead, Cooper lingered, waiting for me to catch up with him. Then we both swam beside each other above the coral. If we both reached out our arms, we’d be able to touch fingertips.

  My eyes darted every which way as neon-colored fish played peek-a-boo beneath us. A particularly bold one zigzagged upward, coming nearly within a foot of my face, and then swerved back down to the coral, where it disappeared. I searched for its green and blue shimmery scales but couldn’t see it.

  Then Cooper grabbed my shoulder. He’d come closer without noticing. He pointed down to our right, where the fish had reappeared and was performing the same little routine with Bob.

  Somehow, I managed to smile while not breaking the seal of my lips over the regulator. Cooper’s hand on my shoulder lightened, and he proceeded to point my attention to other parts of the coral: clown fish, star fish, eels, urchins. Everything that lived and breathed down there was alien and beautiful all at once. I didn’t dare swim any closer, but Cooper was fearless, swooping down and swimming right above the sharp bottom. I doubted there was more than two inches between his abs and the coral.

  Abs. They were one perk to this diving adventure.

  The second? Cooper couldn’t talk.

  The result? I hated him a little less.

  In fact, it was easy to appreciate him in this environment. If I thought he was an impressive-looking specimen out of the water, he was ten times more drool-worthy under it. His muscles rippled with every stroke, and the reflection of the water flickered upon his skin the way it had on the bottom of the pool earlier that morning.

  Nassau had beautiful water and beautiful sun. The combination was intoxicating.

  Bob turned back toward us about ten minutes later and pointed upward. We slowly turned and began swimming back to the boat, which I could barely make out. It was a floating white blob far away and up above our heads. We swam slowly, still soaking in the beautiful sights, and Bob moved up ahead to be our guide.

  When we were only about twenty feet from the boat, Cooper grabbed my hand and pulled me back to him.

  I turned, puzzled, and found Cooper pulling his regulator out of his mouth.

  What is he playing at?

  Then he reached out and ran a hand gently up my arm and over my shoulder. His touch slowed and softened as it crept up my neck, and he traced my jaw with his thumb before pausing with his fingers on my regulator.

  We were only a few feet under the surface. Perfectly safe. And suddenly, my body was responding in ways I didn’t want it to.

  My skin prickled. My heart fluttered. My palms would have been sweaty if we weren’t underwater, and my cheeks would have been pink. The place below my stomach tightened.

  Cooper pulled, and I released the regulator. Then he wrapped an arm around my waist, and we came together.

  The swell of his muscled chest pressed against me as he dropped his head and leaned in. His hair floated around his head, held down on the sides by the strap of his full-face goggles, and before his lips touched mine, I dimly wondered how the hell he still looked so hot with such a ridiculous thing on his face.

  Then he kissed me, and none of it mattered.

  His lips were strangely warm underwater. And smooth. I’d never kissed underwater like this, and as our bodies became entwined, I realized how thrilling it was. I couldn’t breathe. Neither could he. But the kiss continued, and we floated upward.

  When we broke the surface, our lips were still pressed together, and his hand still lingered by my jaw. I felt him smile as he ran his hand into my soaking wet hair and tightened his grip. My body betrayed me, and I let out a soft moan that he must have interpreted as an invitation because suddenly, his tongue pressed between my lips.

  I didn’t fight him.

  I didn’t want to. Despite how completely intolerable I found him, it felt good. Like a heavy weight had been taken out of my arms and handed to someone else. I wrapped my legs around his hips and kissed him in return, earning a moan from his throat.

  I smiled into the kiss with satisfaction.

  He wasn’t the only one in the driver’s seat.

  CHAPTER 8

  COOPER

  I smirked at my own reflection in the full-length mirror on my closet door as I rolled up the sleeves of my shirt. My thoughts wandered to the kiss I’d shared out in the ocean with Piper the day before last, just as they had all day yesterday and all this morning and afternoon.

  For some reason, I just couldn’t shake it.

  If I thought on it long enough, I could still feel the soft, warm press of her lips upon mine. I could taste the ocean on her now if I concentrated hard enough. At first when I’d gone in for the kiss, I hadn’t been sure how she would respond. She might have pushed me away. Might have cursed me out.

  Hell, she wouldn’t ever get a better opportunity to drown me. Bob might have helped her since I’d made him come out with us on his day off.

  But she hadn’t. She’d kissed me back. Not only that, but she’d gotten into it.

  The strength of her thighs wrapped around my hips had my brain concocting all kinds of wicked ideas of what I’d like to do with her, and to her, in a bed rather than in the sea.

  Piper James had hair for pulling, an ass for slapping, and tits for sucking.

  She just needed a man to show her how to unwind.

  Clearly, the other Casanova bachelors she’d spent time with already hadn’t done her justice. She was still wound like a tightly coiled spring, full of pride and modesty. She could cling to those ideals as long as she wanted. But by the time I was through with her, she was going to be a changed woman. One way or another.

  It was my mission.

  And I never failed.

  Once I finished getting dressed, I made my way downstairs. I’d thrown on a pair of khaki-colored linen pants, brown oxfords, a brown belt, and a loose white button up. I’d opted to leave the first few buttons open, exposing a bit of my tattoo and a lot of tanned skin. When I hit the bottom floor and turned toward the living room, I caught Piper checking me out from where she sat on my sofa.

  As soon as my gaze locked onto hers, she looked away.

  “Evening,” I said as I passed by the back of her sofa and went into the kitchen.

  She closed the book she was reading and left it on her lap,
cover down. I wondered if she didn’t want me to know what she was reading. “Evening.”

  I let silence hang between us as I poured myself a whiskey on the rocks. I set to sipping it as I braced myself against the counter.

  Piper’s eyes raked me up and down and then narrowed. “You’re dressed nicely.”

  “Thank you.” I knew she was making a statement, not paying me a compliment, and I liked how she prickled under my gratitude.

  “Are you going somewhere?”

  “Boys’ night.”

  “Oh.”

  I took a healthy swig of whiskey and set the glass down. The ice scattered along the edges of the glass. “Friday nights here in Nassau are reserved for me and my boys. I never thought to tell you, babe. My bad. I’m so used to running my own show and not having to report to anyone.”

  Piper opened her book back up and dropped her gaze to the page. I could see the tension in her stiff shoulders and the hard set of her jaw. “Well, you definitely don’t have to report to me, either.”

  “No?”

  She looked up sharply. “No.”

  I admired her lips. There was no trace of a smile there. They were pressed firmly together in a scowl that only made her hotter. The poor thing had no idea. I liked a girl with a hard edge and a backbone. Slap those qualities together with a tight body, and you were officially getting yourself added to my roster.

  Piper was all that and more. She was like a unique baseball card I was desperate to add to my collection.

  “I won’t be too late.”

  The corner of her lips twitched. “I don’t care.”

  “Of course not. But still. It would be rude of me not to tell you, right?”

  “What’s rude is insisting on calling me ‘babe’ when I’ve specifically asked you not to.”

  “But you are a babe,” I said, just for the sake of seeing that angry glare of hers again.

  She rewarded me with it. Her dark brown eyes burned. “I’m not one of your loose party girls, Cooper. And this game you’re playing? It’s not going to work.”

  “Game?”

  Piper started reading. Or rather, she attempted to look like she was reading. “Yes. Game.”

  “I’m not playing any games.”

  “Sure, you aren’t.”

  “Has anyone ever told you that you’re a wonderful conversationalist, Piper?” I asked, making sure to enunciate her name to make sure she noticed I had refrained from calling her babe.

  “Yes, actually. But not after a conversation of the likes of this one. They were much more… elevated.”

  “Elevated?” I scoffed. What a stuck-up little brat.

  Piper closed her book again and let out a dramatic sigh. “Are you leaving soon?”

  “Am I bothering you?”

  She clenched her jaw but said nothing.

  I grinned. “Whatcha reading?”

  “A book.”

  “No shit, Sherlock,” I said, swinging around the sofa and dropping into the corner spot beside her. I leaned forward to try to peer up at the cover, but she hid it from me. “Is it a steamy romance novel perhaps? One of those goodies with the half-naked dude on the front with the long flowing blond hair? Am I close?”

  “Not even a little bit.”

  “Uh huh,” I said, not believing a word she said. I pushed myself to my feet and finished my drink before setting the glass down on the side table. Piper’s attention moved from me, to the glass, and then back to her book. “Have a good night, Piper. I’ll be home after midnight. If that book gets you all hot and bothered, you officially have my permission to wait for me in my bed in whatever outfit you deem appropriate. Or completely buck-ass naked. Either works for me.”

  “Goodbye, Cooper.”

  “Is that a no?”

  Piper didn’t answer me. So I left her brooding on the couch and set out to meet my buddies at our local hangout at the opposite end of the beach.

  * * *

  Our Friday night destination was called Bassau. It was run by two brothers from Jamaica who knew how to throw a good party and mix a mean drink. The place was small, tiki themed, and a hot spot for locals who wanted to get fucked up, listen to some good music, and eat good shrimp.

  Like me and my boys.

  “So you just left her behind?” Mitch asked after we’d already made our way through our first beers. I’d just finished telling them about me and Piper’s encounter before I headed out the door.

  I shrugged. “Yeah. Guys’ night. Right?”

  Mitch frowned. “I wouldn’t have minded if she tagged along.”

  “Me neither,” Luke and Davis echoed in unison.

  I frowned at them. “That’s because you think she’s hot.”

  “And you don’t?” Mitch asked.

  I rubbed the back of my neck. Was it worth lying to the three people who knew me better than anyone else in my life by pretending I wasn’t all that into Piper James? Would they buy it? Or could they already tell I thought she was one sexy little morsel?

  Mitch chuckled and shook his head. “You’re just as floored by her as we are. Be honest.”

  “All right fine,” I conceded, leaning back in my chair. It creaked beneath my weight. I threw an arm in the air to flag down a server to bring us another round of beers. She caught my eye, and I mouthed, “Four tequilas.”

  Once I was satisfied she’d gotten my order, I turned my attention back to my buddies, who were all crowded around our small little table. “Piper’s hot. Okay? She’s really fucking hot.”

  “Obviously,” Davis said.

  “And too good for you,” Luke added.

  Mitch laughed. “By a fucking landslide.”

  “Piss off,” I spat. “She has no idea how lucky she is to be with me for a month.”

  Luke’s eyebrows crept upward. “Or how unlucky she is.”

  “Pretty sure she figured that much out at the party on Monday,” Mitch said.

  I looked back and forth between my friends as they shit-talked me. “For your information, Piper is going to have the best month of her life. She just doesn’t know it yet.”

  “By ‘best month of her life’, do you mean leaving her alone at your house on a Friday night?” Mitch turned toward me.

  I blinked at my friend. “Are you accusing me of something?”

  Mitch nodded. “I’m accusing you of being a shitty host.”

  I laughed and slapped my hand on the table. “Distance makes the heart grow fonder. Right? That’s a thing. I’ll come home to her after she’s done reading her smutty little book, and when she wants something between her legs, guess who’ll be there? Cooper Diaz, ready for duty.”

  “Oh God.” Mitch rolled his eyes.

  Davis and Luke snickered like schoolgirls.

  “What?” I asked, splaying my hands wide.

  Mitch sighed and opened his mouth to speak, but he promptly slapped it closed when the server came back with our round of tequila shots. I asked her to add it to my tab. She took her leave, and the four of us scooped up our shots.

  “To getting our dicks wet tonight,” I said.

  The three of them grumbled their agreement before we all tossed back our shots.

  Mitch leaned his elbows on the table. “You realize you might have to change your strategy with Piper, right? She’s not going to fall for the same tricks you always use. Especially not if she’s already spent some quality time with these other Casanova guys.”

  “What are you trying to say?” I asked.

  Davis stepped in. “He’s trying to tell you that you’re not as charming as you think you are.”

  “And she sees right through your bullshit,” Mitch added.

  “And your good looks might not be enough to save you,” Luke finished.

  I frowned. “Thanks for the vote of confidence, boys.”

  Were they on to something? Maybe I needed to change up my tactics with Piper. My game plan was definitely to get in her pants. I wanted to know what a good girl like her wa
s all about, and I wanted to see what kind of face she made when she came, but what if my normal go-to strategies weren’t going to work this time?

  Was Piper worth me—God forbid—trying to be a gentleman?

  I took a generous swig from my fresh beer. “We’ll see who comes out on top at the end of the month, boys. We’ll see.”

  CHAPTER 9

  PIPER

  The front door slammed, and I woke up mid-snore. “Wh—what?”

  I sat up and looked around.

  At some point in the evening, I’d fallen asleep on Cooper’s sofa. My book was lying open on my lap, pages down. I had the imprint of the stitching of the sofa cushions on my left arm from where it had gotten wedged in the back crevice, and it was very, very asleep.

  I tried to shake out the pins and needles as I twisted around to look across the foyer at the front door.

  It was dimly lit, but I could make out Cooper’s form as he staggered past the stairs.

  Great.

  Had I thought ahead at all, I would have made sure to go up to my room so I could close and lock the door and completely ignore him when he got home. But now I was right in his path, about to endure his company, which I imagined was twenty times worse when he was shitfaced than when he was sober.

  “Oh, hey there, babe,” Cooper drawled as he stumbled forward and caught himself on the kitchen island. He blinked in my general direction but failed to focus his gaze on me. He dragged the back of his hand across his lips. “Sorry. Piper. Not babe. Piper.”

  That was surprising. He’d checked himself while heavily intoxicated.

  I planted my hands on my hips and studied him as he leaned sideways on the island. “Did you have a good night?”

  Cooper nodded. Two more of his shirt buttons had come open at some point during his night out, revealing a hell of a lot of chest—even some rib. I tried my best to keep my eyes on his face as he chuckled and rubbed at his shoulder. “You could say that. I was wingman of the fucking year.”

  “Were you now?”

  He nodded. “Had to be. You know the rules. No fucking around if you’re a Casanova bachelor.”