The Cottage

by Danielle Steel

  “Why don't you buy a house?” he questioned her, as they drove along in his favorite Rolls. Money was certainly no object for her, but she seemed very discreet, and he noticed that she wore no jewelry and dressed simply. She was wearing black slacks, and a black turtleneck sweater and a secondhand Navy pea-coat. He was wearing gray slacks, a black cashmere sweater, and a leather jacket, and black alligator loafers. He had sensed that she would dress down, and he was taking her to a Chinese restaurant. And when he told her, she was delighted.

  “I don't need a house,” she said in answer to his question. “I'm never home, and when I am, I'm sleeping, and I don't know if I'm going to stay here. When I finish my residency, I'm not sure where I'll go into practice, although I wouldn't mind staying in Los Angeles.” The one place she knew she wasn't going to go was back to Palm Beach, to her parents. That was a closed chapter for her. She only went for major holidays and state occasions, and as seldom as she could.

  Coop had a fascinating evening with her. They talked about a thousand different subjects, Kenya again, and Indonesia, where she had done extensive traveling after college. And Bali, which was one of her favorite places, along with Nepal, where she'd gone trekking. She talked about the books she liked to read, most of which were surprisingly serious. And she had very eclectic taste in music. She knew a lot about antiques and architecture. And she was interested in politics, particularly as it related to medicine, and she was surprisingly knowledgeable about recent legislation on the subject. He had never known anyone like her. She had a mind like a finely tuned machine, and she was far better than any computer. He had to work hard to keep up with her, and he liked that. And when he asked, she told him she was thirty. She assumed he was somewhere in his late fifties, early sixties. She knew he'd been making movies for a long time, but she didn't know how old he'd been when he started. She would have been startled to realize that he had recently turned seventy, and he certainly didn't look it.

  She had a delightful evening with him, and she said so as he drove her home. It was only nine-thirty, and he'd been careful not to keep her out late, or he knew she'd be reluctant to see him again, if he dragged her around till midnight and she felt like death the next morning. He knew she had to get up at six-thirty.

  “You were a good sport to come out with me,” Coop said generously. “I would have been very disappointed if you hadn't.”

  “That's nice of you, Coop. I had a great time, and the dinner was delicious.” Simple, but good, and just spicy enough, the way she liked it. And he had been extremely good company, even better than she'd expected. She had feared he would be all glitter and flash and charm, and very much a product of his business. She was surprised to find him intelligent and warm, and well informed. She didn't have the feeling that he was playing a part, but rather that he was in fact a worthwhile human being, which surprised her.

  “I'd like to see you again, Alex, if you have time, and aren't otherwise encumbered.” He hadn't asked her until then if she had a boyfriend. Although other men had never stopped him. He had enough faith in himself to dispose of the best of them, and generally he had, without much trouble. He was, after all, Cooper Winslow. And he never forgot it.

  “I'm not ‘encumbered’ actually. I don't have enough time to be. I'm not a very reliable date, I'm afraid. I'm either on duty, or on call.”

  “I know,” he smiled, “or sleeping. I told you, I like a challenge.”

  “Well, I am one, in more ways than one,” she admitted. “I'm a little gun-shy about serious relationships. A lot gun-shy actually.”

  “Thanks to your brother-in-law?” he asked gently, and she nodded.

  “He taught me some painful lessons. I haven't ventured out too far in deep waters since then. I tend to stay at the shallow end, with the kiddies. I can handle that. I'm not so sure about the other stuff.”

  “You'll risk it for the right man, you just haven't met him yet.” There was some truth to what he said, but honesty in what she had too. She was terrified of getting hurt again, hadn't had a serious relationship since her broken engagement, and dated very little.

  “My life is my work, Coop. As long as we both understand that, then I'd love to see you.”

  “Good,” he sounded pleased. “I'll call you.” Though it wouldn't be too soon, he had good instincts about those things. He wanted her to miss him, and wonder why he wasn't calling. He knew exactly how to play women. And Alex was open and easy to read, and she had explained herself to him.

  She thanked him without kissing him, and he watched to make sure she got into the building safely. He waved as he drove away, and she looked pensive as she rode up in the elevator. It was hard to know if he was for real, and she was skeptical. It would be so easy to fall for someone as smooth and charming as he was, and then God knew what would happen. As she let herself into her apartment, she wondered if she should go out with him again, or if it was too risky. He was a very experienced player.

  Alex took her clothes off and dumped them in a heap on a chair, along with the surgical pajamas she'd worn all day, and the ones she'd worn the day before, and the day before that. She never had time to do laundry either.

  Coop was very pleased with himself as he drove home. It had gone exactly the way he had wanted it to. And whatever his intentions, or hers, it had been a good beginning. He would just have to see which way the wind blew, and how he wanted to play it. But Alex Madison was definitely an option.

  He wasn't worried about it, and Alex didn't have the energy to be. She was asleep before he even got home to The Cottage.

  Chapter 9

  Charlene called Coop half a dozen times that night, and again, at least another dozen times, the next morning. But this time, Paloma didn't trick him into taking the calls. She knew he would have killed her. He finally took a call from her two days later. He was trying to let her down gently, although not speaking to her for two days was not Charlene's idea of gentle.

  “What's up?” Coop asked casually when he took the call. “How are you?”

  “I'm crazed, that's how I am,” she said, sounding frantic. “Where the hell were you?”

  “I was on location, doing a commercial.” It was a lie, but it calmed her down for a minute.

  “You could at least have called me,” she said, sounding injured.

  “I thought of it,” he lied, “but I didn't have time. And I thought we both needed space. This isn't going to go anywhere, Charlene. I think you know that.”

  “Why not? We were great together.”

  “Yes, we were,” he conceded gracefully. “But if nothing else, I'm too old for you. You need to find someone your own age to play with.” It never even occurred to him that she was only a year younger than Alex.

  “That's never stopped you before.” She knew from the tabloids and people who knew him, that he'd been out with girls who were even younger than she. “That's just an excuse, Coop.” She was right of course, but he would never have admitted that to her.

  “It doesn't feel right,” he tried another tack. “It's awfully hard making relationships work in our business.” But that wasn't plausible either. They both knew he'd been out with every actress and starlet in Hollywood, sometimes for long periods of time. He just didn't want to pursue it with Charlene. He thought she was vulgar, at least in the way she dressed, and a little obsessive. What's more, she bored him. He was far more intrigued by Alex. And not entirely indifferent to her fortune. It wasn't his main attraction to her, but it certainly added incentive to lust and fascination. Charlene had none of that to offer. And he also wisely sensed that if he wanted to date Alex, he would have to keep his nose relatively clean. Appearing in the tabloids with a girl who had started as an actress in porn videos was not going to further his cause with Alex. And for the moment, Alex was the object of his current interest. Charlene was history, and an extremely brief, undistinguished chapter. He had had many like her, and he always tired of them quickly. And the few exotic elements she had, like a Japanese g
randmother, and having lived in Paris and grown up in Brazil, simply didn't make up for what she lacked in distinction. Besides which, he had discovered, she had a vicious temper, and she seemed a little unbalanced to him. She was not taking the hint and disappearing gracefully, she was hanging on to him like a pit bull with a bone in its teeth, which was something Coop hated. He much preferred swift, painless endings to the dogged, desperate pursuit Charlene was inflicting on him. He resented her for it, and felt trapped and claustrophobic every time he talked to her.

  “I'll call you in a few days, Charlene,” he said finally, but that only enraged her.

  “No, you won't. You're lying.”

  “I don't lie.” He sounded greatly offended. “I have a call on the other line, I'll call you back.”

  “You're a liar!” she screamed, and he quietly disconnected. He didn't like anything about the way she was behaving. Overnight, she had become a major problem. But there wasn't much he could do about it. She'd give up eventually, but in the meantime, she was being very unpleasant, and Coop was annoyed at her.

  He called Alex that afternoon, but she had three emergencies back to back, and she didn't get back to him till that evening. And all he got was a message on his voice mail from her. She'd been going to bed at 9 P.M. when she called, and said she had to be up at four the next morning. Establishing a relationship with her was not going to be easy, but it was definitely worth it, in Coop's eyes.

  He finally connected with Alex the following afternoon. She only had a few minutes to talk, and she was on duty for the next several days, but she agreed to come to dinner on Sunday. Although she warned him she'd be on call then.

  “What does that mean? They call you for advice?” he asked hopefully, and somewhat naively. He couldn't remember ever dating a doctor, although he had dated several nurses, and a chiropractor once.

  “No,” she laughed easily, and he loved the sound of her laughter. Everything about Alex was honest and open. “It means I have to leave in a matter of seconds, if they page me.”

  “I may have to confiscate your pager in that case.”

  “There are days when that would be extremely appealing. Are you sure you want me to come to dinner if I'm on call?”

  “Absolutely sure. I'll make you a doggie bag if you have to leave.”

  “Would you rather wait till I have a day off free and clear? I have one next week, if you'd prefer that,” she offered fairly.

  “No, I want to see you, Alex. I'll make something simple you can take with you.”

  “You're going to cook?” She sounded vastly impressed, and so was he. The only thing he could cook was toast for caviar, or boil water for tea.

  “I'll figure out something.” Life without a cook was a new challenge for him. He was thinking of calling Wolfgang Puck and having him send over some pasta and a salmon pizza. He liked that idea, and on Saturday, he called Wolfgang, who promised to send over a simple meal for two, and a waiter. It was perfect.

  Alex arrived at five o'clock Sunday afternoon, on schedule, in her own car, as she said she needed it in case they called her back to work. She came chugging down the driveway, and was most impressed when she saw The Cottage. Unlike girls like Charlene, she had seen houses of its ilk before, in fact she had lived in several of them. Her parents' house in Newport looked very much like The Cottage, only bigger, although she didn't say that to Coop, she didn't want to be rude. She thought the property itself and the gardens were lovely, and she was excited about using the pool. Coop had told her to bring a bathing suit, and she had just gotten into the water, and swam in long, smooth strokes to the far end and back, as Coop watched her, when Mark and Jimmy arrived in shorts, after a game of tennis, or a game of “lob” as they had come to call it on the damaged court. They were surprised to see Coop and a very pretty young woman, and she was surprised to see them chatting with Coop when she surfaced from under the water.

  She swam to the side of the pool, and Mark looked at her admiringly. She was a beautiful girl, and far more interesting looking than the one who had made him coffee. He was still hoping she had never told Coop about their early morning meeting.

  “Alex, I'd like to introduce you to my houseguests,” Coop said grandly, as he introduced them by name, and she smiled at them.

  “What a wonderful place to stay,” she said, smiling at them. “You're very lucky.” They agreed with her, and a few minutes later, got into the pool with her. Coop rarely swam. Although he had been captain of the swimming team in college, he was happier sitting by the side of the pool, alternately chatting with them, and talking to Alex, and entertaining everyone with his outrageous stories about Hollywood.

  They stayed by the side of the pool until six o'clock, and Coop took her inside to show her the house, and let her change back into dry clothes. Wolfgang's waiter was busy in the kitchen by then, and Coop said they would eat at seven. It was all wonderfully civilized, and they settled down in the library, while he offered her a glass of champagne, but she said she couldn't, in case she had to go back on duty. Being on call meant she couldn't touch alcohol, but Coop didn't seem to mind. And they were both relieved that so far at least, her pager had remained silent.

  “Your houseguests seem very nice,” Alex said comfortably as Coop sipped a glass of Cristal, and the waiter from Spago served delicious hors d'oeuvres, and disappeared back into the kitchen to finish the meal. “How do you know them?”

  “They're friends of my accountant's,” Coop said easily, which was a half-truth, but it explained their presence on his grounds.

  “It's nice of you to let them stay here. They seem to love it.” Mark had said he was barbecuing that night, and had invited Coop and Alex to join them, but Coop had said they had other plans. Mark had showed an obvious interest in Alex, and he'd commented on her to Jimmy in an undertone after she and Coop went back into the main house.

  “Nice-looking girl,” he said, and Jimmy said he hadn't noticed. He was still wandering around in a blur much of the time, and had no interest in women. Mark was coming back to life more quickly, and he was getting increasingly angry at Janet. It suddenly made other women seem more attractive to him. But his grief was a lot different than Jimmy's. “I'm surprised Coop is interested in her.”

  “Why?” Jimmy looked surprised. He hadn't paid much attention to her looks, but she was obviously intelligent, and Coop had said she was a doctor. She seemed appropriate to him.

  “Big brain, small boobs. Not his usual profile, from what I've seen,” Mark explained.

  “Maybe there's more to him than we think,” Jimmy suggested. There had been something vaguely familiar about her. He wasn't sure if it was just a type he had often seen back in Boston, or if he'd ever met her. He hadn't asked what kind of medicine she practiced, and Coop had monopolized most of the conversation with his stories. And they were always amusing. He was easy to be with, and both Mark and Jimmy could see why women liked him. He was infinitely charming, undeniably good-looking, and his wit was sharp and quick.

  Coop and Alex had sat down to dinner by then, and Mark had started the barbecue. It was the first time he had used it, the week before they had used Jimmy's, and the steaks he'd made had been delicious. Mark was making hamburgers and Caesar salad. And things were going pretty well, until he put too much fuel on the charcoal and flames started leaping skyward, and seemed to get rapidly out of control.

  “Shit, I haven't done this in a while,” he apologized, trying to dampen the flames and save their dinner. But a minute later, there was a minor explosion. Coop and Alex heard it from the dining room, where they were having an elegant dinner, courtesy of Wolfgang. They were having Peking duck, and three different kinds of pasta, with a big tossed salad and homemade bread.

  “What was that?” Alex asked, looking worried.

  “The IRA, I think,” Coop suggested, seeming unconcerned, as they went on eating. “My houseguests probably blew up the guest wing.” But as Alex looked over his shoulder out the window, she could see
billows of smoke coming through the trees, and the next thing she saw were flames as a small bush caught fire.

  “Oh my God, Coop I think the trees are burning.”

  He was about to tell her not to worry about it, when he turned to look and saw the same thing.

  “I'll get a fire extinguisher,” he said practically, without knowing if he even had one, and if so, where it was kept.

  “You'd better call 911.” She pulled her cell phone out of her bag without hesitating, and called them as Coop ran outside to see what had happened.

  Mark was standing at the barbecue outside the guest wing, looking mortified, as he and Jimmy tried to squelch the flames with towels. It was a totally unsuccessful effort, and by the time the fire trucks roared through the gate ten minutes later, there was a good-sized blaze going. Alex was horrified, and Coop was worried about the house. It took the firemen less than three minutes to put it out. No great damage had been done, except that several of the neatly trimmed hedges had been scorched pretty badly. But by then, the firemen had spotted Coop, and for the next ten minutes he was signing autographs, and exchanging war stories with them, including his experiences as a volunteer firefighter in Malibu thirty years before.

  He offered them each a glass of wine, which they declined, but they were still standing around admiring him and enjoying his stories half an hour later, while Mark continued to apologize, and Coop assured him there was no harm done, when Alex's pager went off, and she called the hospital on her cell phone while the others talked.

  She walked away from the center of conversation so she could hear better. Two of their preemies had coded, and one had died. The resident on duty had his hands full and needed her to come in. A new patient was on its way in, a preemie that was hydrocephalic. She glanced at her watch as she approached the group again. She had promised to be back at the hospital in fifteen minutes, or less, if she could.

  “What's your specialty?” Jimmy asked quietly as the others continued chatting. Coop had noticed neither her page, nor the conversation on the cell phone. He was too busy talking to the firemen and entertaining the entire group, but Jimmy had been intrigued by the questions he'd heard her ask on her cell. She sounded competent in the extreme.