He groaned. “Please don’t remind me.”
“How about I help you instead?”
He hesitated, surprised by the offer. “I couldn’t ask you to do that.”
She smiled. “You didn’t. Besides what better way to get to know the real you than by helping you sort through your personal effects?”
She scanned the items spread across the room and frowned, an adorable pout that brought back memories of her lips on his, her tongue deep in his throat.
“Unless you’d rather do it alone?” she asked, oblivious to his wandering thoughts, which he reined in.
“Are you kidding?” he asked. “I’d appreciate the help and the company. I can’t say I kept the place in great shape before the robbery, so anything we do might be an improvement.”
“Great. Let’s get started.” She walked over to the bookshelf and began picking up his hardcovers one by one, replacing them by height.
Joining her, he stacked the books, handing her one at a time. They worked in comfortable silence for a while, then started talking about the books he’d kept over the years.
“How about you?” he asked. “What’s your place like? Are you a neat freak or do you prefer clutter?” He couldn’t judge that part of her yet.
“Hmm. That’s a complicated question because I don’t have my own place.”
He narrowed his gaze, wondering what she meant. “Do you have a roommate?”
“In a manner of speaking.” She paused, turning to face him. “She’s almost eighty years old, has lived in the same building for the last forty years and has a spare room she doesn’t mind letting me use when I’m around.”
“Your grandmother?” Coop recalled her mentioning that the older woman was spry for her age, but maybe she had other issues that necessitated aid.
Lexie nodded.
“Does she need live-in help?”
“God, no! She’d slap you for even suggesting such a thing.” Her eyes twinkled at the thought. “Grandma is as independent as they come. But she has a spare bedroom and I figure what’s the point of paying rent all year round when I’m not there on a consistent basis?”
A sick feeling settled in his gut. As much as he’d like to ignore this subject, the more he knew the better prepared he’d be. “How often do you leave town? Or should I ask how long you stay around?”
“It all depends. I can go on short trips for a few weeks at a time or monthly journeys if I choose to. That’s the beauty of my line of work. I can stay connected and do it from almost anywhere.”
He shook his head, unable to understand the appeal of her lifestyle. “Why leave?”
She spread her hands in front of her as if the answer were obvious. “Sometimes it’s a new venue I want to see, other times I just get antsy staying in one place for too long.”
Just like his ex, Annie, who had loved her job as a flight attendant. Which hadn’t threatened him at all at first. The insecurities came later, when she’d take on more flights, finding excuses not to come home.
He pushed the thoughts and similarities aside. Lexie wasn’t his ex. He didn’t know her well yet or even understand her motives for how she lived.
But he remained curious. “So those books we talked about your having read and liked? You don’t own them? What about stuff? Don’t you need a place to keep your things?”
“I own a few old books that I leave at my grandmother’s, and anything else I can download on my e-reader. Like I keep telling you, technology is a beautiful thing!”
“Do you miss having a place of your own?”
“But I do have a place. My grandmother has always been my refuge, so it’s the closest to home I’ve ever had,” she said simply.
Clearly, to her it made sense.
Walking over, he placed a hand on her shoulder. “What did you need refuge from?” he asked.
They’d long since stopped cleaning in favor of conversation, but he sensed that Lexie needed to keep busy, as she paused to rearrange some of the hardcover books they’d just shelved.
Then she pointed to the paperbacks. “Can you hand me those next?”
He did as she asked.
While she placed the books in order, switching them from upside-down to right-side up, she finally started to explain about her childhood.
“I come from a very driven family. Dad’s a banker, Mom is a lawyer and my sister followed in our father’s footsteps. I was more of an oops in their carefully planned life. I was unplanned and, to add insult to injury, I didn’t act like them, either. They wanted me to follow their goals—I wanted to take things as they came.”
“So you’re unique.” He’d sensed that from the first time they’d met.
She smiled. “And you’re kind. My parents, once they realized they couldn’t mold me into their image, came to see me as more of a…disappointment.” Her voice cracked on the word.
And so did his heart, hurting for the little girl who couldn’t please her family. Coop might not have lived up to his father’s ideals, but it wasn’t for lack of trying. And he’d always felt his father’s love.
“It’s their way or no way,” Lexie went on. “Grandma always wonders how she had such a stick-in-the-mud for a son and she pushes his buttons whenever she can.”
Coop laughed. “Hey, not all family members are alike. It’s okay for you to be different.”
Lexie released a wry chuckle. “I wish someone had explained that to my parents. Don’t get me wrong—they loved me and wanted me to have every opportunity available—as long as they chose the opportunity. So at five years old when my ice skating talent became obvious, they started to push me toward competition.”
“Let me guess,” he said, continuing to work with her on the cleaning. “You hated it.”
“Actually, I loved skating. I just hated the rigorous schedules that came with their goals. I hated the conformity of the routines. And as I got older, I hated the competitiveness between skaters and even the adults in that world.”
“Did you tell them?” He wondered if she’d felt comfortable enough with them to be honest.
She nodded. “I tried. But nobody listened. So throughout my teenage years, I was at the rink at 5:00 a.m., working with a coach and competing. Until finally my grandmother stepped in.”
“How did she save you?” He was fascinated by this glimpse into her early life and the things that had formed the woman she’d become today.
“One day she picked me up after school for skating practice, took one look at my face and instead of going to the rink, she drove upstate. We went hiking at Bear Mountain. We watched the leaves turn colors and enjoyed the outdoors. It gave me a much-needed break.”
As she recounted the memory, color flooded Lexie’s cheeks, almost as if she were actually there, outdoors with the cool wind biting at her cheeks. There was no doubt this woman knew her passions, Coop thought.
“She obviously gets you,” he said, meeting her gaze. “You’re lucky to have her.”
She nodded. “You sound like you understand. From experience?”
He inclined his head. “Yeah. My mom,” he said gruffly. Coop swallowed hard and decided not to explain about the shoulder injury and being forced to drop out of the academy and stuck to the subject at hand. “She knew I loved writing, recognized my talent and guided me toward journalism. She got me.”
Lexie smiled, her expression full of warmth and understanding. “Like my grandmother gets me.”
“We were close. With my father and brother, I always felt like the outsider. I still do,” he admitted. “So how did your grandmother fix things?” Because he had no doubt she had.
Lexie smiled. “She staged an intervention of sorts. She’d met Yank Morgan, the sports agent, at the rink and they’d become good friends. She and Yank sat my parents down and explained that championship skating wasn’t only about talent but also desire. And desire is in someone’s heart.” She placed her hand over her chest. “Either you’re born with it or you’re not. And forcing me to compete migh
t gain me medals but it would break my spirit. Which, in my grandmother’s opinion, wasn’t worth the cost.” Her voice cracked slightly.
He brushed his hand across her cheek, grateful for the insight. “Did she win the battle?” Coop asked.
“At first Dad said only horses had spirits that could be broken and Grandma told him if he believed that then he was a horse’s ass.”
Coop snickered and Lexie grinned.
“Yank told them to let me be a kid and find my own way. Mom and Dad gave in, but to this day I can’t say they understood why I was so unhappy doing something I was good at.” Lexie rubbed her hands together as if warming herself. “So now you know. Nobody in my life gets me.”
“Except your grandmother.”
“Exactly.” She nodded. “And you?” she asked hopefully.
He inclined his head, unsure of how to answer.
Traveling fed her spirit—that much he understood. It was ironic. After promising himself he wouldn’t get involved with a woman who wasn’t capable of putting down roots, he’d gone and done just that.
Gotten involved.
Too much to just walk away. But neither could he afford to invest more of himself because he already knew he could fall hard.
“Hey, are you hungry?” he asked, changing the subject to one easier to handle and that definitely placed distance between them. “We could break for an early lunch.”
“I’m always hungry.”
He laughed. “A girl after my own heart.” His own skipped a beat at the thought.
Short-term, he reminded himself. They could hang out together for as long as it took to investigate the history of the ring and for her to build his Web site. She’d be here and gone.
At least this time he knew what to expect up front.
FOR LEXIE the day passed quickly, cleaning broken up by lunch at a local pizzeria, but no more kisses. There was also a quick stop at a bank where Coop opened a safe deposit box. He stored the ring inside and together they worked for the rest of the day, putting Coop’s apartment back in order.
She’d been fielding phone calls from her grandmother all afternoon, first asking where she was and then which client she was with. When her grandmother had realized Lexie was with Coop, Charlotte began sending her text messages.
When had her grandmother learned to text?
Invite ur yung man to dinner. Apparently, Grandma also thought she was young enough to send text slang. To which Lexie had replied, he’s not my young man. But Charlotte wasn’t about to be deterred. Rest of city thinks U R engaged. Bring him to meet the parents. Aka me.
And so it went. Lexie tried ignoring her, but the texts only piled up.
The best part of the day was that Lexie now had a glimpse into how Coop lived. The walk-up was cozy. A one-bedroom with purely masculine flavor and appeal. The centerpiece of the living room was a big-screen TV; a desktop PC sat in the corner, but the bookshelf held a prominent place as well. She could envision him stretched out at night, watching sports or reading, and relaxing after work. His home was as comfortable as the man himself.
Or at least as comfortable as the man she’d opened up to earlier today. Ever since they’d returned from lunch, she’d noticed a definite change in his attitude toward her. This, despite how much he’d seemed to understand her differences with her parents. Which meant he’d had more issues than he’d let on with her nomadic way of life. What else could have triggered the change in his mood?
She decided to tread carefully from now on and not read too much into that kiss. A kiss she still couldn’t forget. Hours later and her body was still trembling. A quick look at his handsome face and a distinct tightening twisted inside her stomach. But he’d made no more sexy overtures and so neither did she.
By four o’clock, they’d finished their cleanup work and she glanced around, pleased with all they’d accomplished. “We make quite a team.” The words slipped out before she could stop them.
He stretched his arms overhead, groaning as he moved. “I couldn’t have done this by myself,” he admitted.
“So imagine how much we’ll get accomplished when we start working on the stolen jewels.” She pointedly reminded him that they had another goal to start on as soon as possible. “What’s your schedule look like?” she asked.
“Tomorrow I’m back to work, which leaves evenings, unless a big story breaks.”
“Sounds good to me. I have an appointment at the Hot Zone tomorrow and I wanted to get a head start on some ideas I had for their new site. I can meet up with you later in the day or early evening. So what’s the plan?” she asked.
He raised his eyebrows. “Plan?”
Why did he have to look so stupefied? It was a simple question. “I watch Cold Case. And this is as cold as they come, but you’re an intrepid reporter who digs up stories all the time. So I’m sure you have a plan of action for us, right?”
He shook his head and laughed. “One step at a time, Sherlock. I haven’t had a chance to think that far ahead. I’ve been a little preoccupied with this.” He swept his hand around the apartment.
Her cell phone vibrated and Lexie let out a groan. “My grandmother,” she muttered, glancing at the incoming text. Dinner. Bring him. 6 p.m. She closed her eyes and prayed for patience.
“What’s wrong?” Coop asked.
“She wants you to come over for dinner tonight, but don’t worry about it. I’ll take care of it.”
“I’ll go with you.”
Lexie narrowed her gaze. “Why in the world would you want to do that?”
“I want to meet the woman who’s taken such good care of you.”
How could she refuse such a heartfelt declaration? “On one condition.”
He raised his eyebrow. “And what would that be?”
“Help me convince her we’re not really engaged.”
“Done.” He shook her hand to seal the deal. Sizzling electricity crackled between them, reminding her that as much as he’d tried to place distance between them, there was chemistry that would not be denied.
“DO YOU HAVE ALLERGIES?” Lexie asked Coop as they stepped off an old elevator and strode down the dark hall.
That was an strange question, he thought. “No. Why?”
She inserted her key in the lock, opened the apartment door and the heavy smell of violets nearly bowled him over.
“Whoa.” He waved his hand in front of his nose.
“That’s why.” Lexie laughed. “Don’t worry. You’ll get used to it. Ready?” Before he could answer, she stepped inside, pulling him along with her. “Grandma, we’re here!” Lexie called out.
“I’m in the kitchen. I’ll be right out!”
“Come on in,” Lexie said, leading him into the dimly lit apartment.
He glanced around, taking in the dark décor accentuated by varying shades of gold. Heavy, closed draperies covered the windows and large paintings with brassy frames and matching sconces hung on the walls.
“Be it ever so humble…Grandma has lived here since she married my grandfather.” Lexie swept her arm around.
“Raised my son here. Lexie now uses his old room,” Charlotte said, joining them.
The photograph hadn’t done the older woman justice. She beamed happiness and radiated life. Everything about her was more. Her hair was redder, her makeup bolder. Her housecoat was colorful, more kimono than pajamalike, making him feel like he was facing Auntie Mame in the flesh. But his biggest surprise was the necklace around her neck. The necklace, which in person, looked exactly like his ring.
Coop hadn’t been able to sleep much last night and early this morning. While tossing and turning, he’d searched for a way to authenticate the ring without bringing the cold case to anyone’s attention. He’d finally figured out who to go to and, despite the early hour, he’d called in a favor.
A South African man Coop had met years ago was a highly respected jewelry appraiser. He’d also been a fence in his home country, something Coop had learned during an i
nvestigation. The tidbit of information wasn’t relevant to any case at hand, but it had led to a mutual understanding between Coop and said appraiser. Anything he heard about what was happening in the black market, he fed to Coop first.
Before Lexie even arrived earlier that morning, Coop had met him at his store and had the ring appraised. At least Coop had confirmation of the ring’s identity. Something he still had to share with Lexie when the time was right.
“I’m Charlotte Davis.” She grasped his hand, pumping it in a firm shake. “And you must be Sam Cooper, Hero, Bachelor and now my granddaughter’s fiancé!”
“Grandma, cut that out! I’ve been telling you all day we’re not engaged.” Lexie shot Coop an I told you so look, and, as if to prove her point, Lexie held out her left hand, revealing her ringless fingers to her grandmother.
“Well, I wouldn’t wear the ring out in public, either, if I were you. Too valuable.” In a not-so-subtle gesture, she fingered the gaudy piece of jewelry around her frail neck. “You have good taste, young man.” She winked at Cooper.
“She doesn’t take we’re not engaged for an answer,” Lexie said, her frustration mounting. “Coop, tell her we’re not engaged.”
“Can I get you two a drink?” Charlotte asked too quickly.
Coop shrugged. Obviously, the older woman didn’t want to hear it. “I’d love something to drink, Mrs. Davis.”
“Call me Charlotte. After all, we’re practically family!” She paused. Her golden eyes, so similar to Lexie’s, lit up. “Which means you can actually call me—”
“Charlotte!” Lexie jumped in before her grandmother could come up with a more familiar term.
The other woman inclined her head. “I suppose Charlotte will do for now. I’ll go get the champagne, so we can toast and celebrate!”
She darted out of the room and he caught a glimpse of her slippers, red with fur trim, which matched her dress. Housecoat. Kimono. Whatever it was she was wearing.
“She is a piece of work,” Coop said, truly admiring her spunk.
“I tried to get you out of it, but now that you’re here she’s reveling. And you promised to help me convince her we’re not engaged, so stop humoring her.” But Lexie grinned, finding her grandmother amusing despite it all.
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