by Carol Finch
Suspicion continued to hound Alexa. She wondered if Coop would show up for another consultation with Elliot. What was he up to? Was he planning to double-cross Mr. Chester?
She’d shoot him herself if she discovered he was professionally unreliable and corrupt. She’d shoot him twice to compensate for the disconcerting realization that she couldn’t trust her instincts as well as she thought she could. Then she’d blast him a third time for disappointing her personally.
Maybe her father and Miguel were right. Maybe ex-bounty hunters and so-called detectives couldn’t be trusted completely. Her instincts might have failed her in this instance because of her fierce physical attraction to Coop.
She pricked her ears when she heard the clatter of hooves, indicating a late-night visitor had arrived. She squinted, trying to determine if it was Coop or the unidentified man from the line shack who approached the ranch house.
Alexa cursed under her breath when she stumbled over the hem of her gown. Halting near the garden gate, she shed her petticoats, and then tossed them over the white picket fence. Hurriedly she fashioned her dress into breeches so she could scurry through the shrubs without being snagged.
In the near distance, she could hear muffled voices. With her curiosity on high alert, she quickened her pace to reach the corner of the house. Removing her slippers to ensure better footing, she scaled the jagged stones to reach the elevated office window. The feat wasn’t too difficult, but clinging to the side of the house like a spider on the wall, to maintain her balance, took considerable strength and effort. Although she broke several fingernails, she managed to sink in her hands like cat claws. She stretched out a leg—practically doing the splits—to find purchase on another protruding stone.
Frissons of excitement coursed through her as she inched sideways so she could peer into the office. She had found her true calling, she realized. This was the kind of thrill and challenge that had been missing from her life. Gathering information, piecing it together and solving puzzles filled her with a sense of purpose.
This new job made her happy. However, if Coop was the late-night caller, who arrived to meet secretly with Elliot, she was going to be mad as hell.
She tossed aside the disparaging thought when she heard Elliot’s voice drift through the office. It wasn’t the cooing, sticky-sweet tone he employed when he was with her, but rather a soft, seductive voice that alerted her that it probably wasn’t Coop who had arrived on the scene.
Alexa leaned sideways as far as she dared, and then craned her neck to peer into the window. Elliot stepped into view. He had removed his dark jacket and silk cravat. His crisp white linen shirt hung open, revealing a light furring of blond hair on his chest.
The sight did nothing to stimulate Alexa. However, the auburn-haired woman, dressed in a red satin gown that displayed her ample bosom to its best advantage, seemed to appreciate the sight of his bare skin. She smiled provocatively as she sashayed up to Elliot.
Alexa watched the woman trail her fingertips down the middle of Elliot’s chest then skim her hand over the placket of his trousers. That appeared to be all the incentive Elliot needed, for he hooked his arm around the woman’s waist and hauled her roughly against him. They commenced groping each other passionately. Articles of clothing and undergarments came off at record speed and were tossed recklessly aside.
Alexa decided she didn’t need this lesson in lust and window peeking wouldn’t gain her information for this case. She squeezed her eyes shut when Elliot yanked down the bodice of the woman’s chemise and feasted on her breasts. Breathless moans and whimpers filled the room and embarrassment flooded Alexa’s cheeks. She wanted to flee the scene before the grand finale of this tryst took place in the office.
Anxious to climb down the face of the wall, she clawed at the rough rocks and struggled to maintain her balance. When an unseen hand came out of nowhere to clamp around her bare ankle, she assumed the armed guard had shown up. Frantic to wrest free, she kicked out her leg—and lost her footing.
Alexa swallowed a squeal of alarm, refusing to let Elliot and his courtesan know she had been spying on them. She hoped to avoid capture before Oscar dragged her into Elliot’s office to face the consequences.
When the guard jerked her back against his chest, she elbowed him in the jaw. When he didn’t let go she reached over her shoulder to rake her broken nails over his neck.
“Ouch, damn it,” came a familiar voice that didn’t belong to Oscar Denton. “Stop clawing me, she-cat. I’m here to help.”
Alexa angled herself sideways to peer into the shadowed face behind her. She wished Miguel had shown up to assist her. But no such luck. Coop was glowering at her. Her mind raced, wondering how she was going to explain her way out of this predicament. Then she reminded herself that she didn’t owe Coop an explanation. She was annoyed with him because he had arrived earlier that evening to consult privately with Elliot.
Although that incriminating visit indicated he was a traitor, she couldn’t accuse him of betraying her because he didn’t know that she and Mr. Chester were one and the same and she planned to keep it that way.
“You scoundrel—” she said with a hiss.
“Call me all the names you want but keep your voice down,” he muttered against her ear.
Coop clamped his hand over Alexa’s mouth and clutched her to him when she squirmed for release. When she gestured toward the corner of the house, he noticed her satin slippers sitting on one of the protruding stones. He snatched them up, but he didn’t set Alexa to her feet so she could don her shoes. Instead he carried her through the garden to the gate.
He didn’t know whether to be angry or amused by her outlandish antics so he decided to be both. But angry first. “What the hell did you think you were doing besides taking the risk of falling off a ledge and breaking your damned neck?” he demanded sharply.
Her chin came up and she refused to back down. “I was spying on Elliot. If it’s any of your business, which it is not.”
“Ah yes, one of your favorite pastimes,” he murmured sarcastically. “How could I have forgotten?”
“I told you that I am determined to discover Elliot’s true character, personality and expose any secrets he plans to keep from me,” she reminded him as he set her to her feet.
“Nice breeches, by the way,” he smirked. “Are those the latest fashion in your uppity social circle?”
She glared flaming arrows at him while she crammed her feet in her slippers.
“What the hell are you doing here? Really,” he inquired.
“I could ask you the same question,” she countered, tossing the comment he’d made last night right back in his face. “Why did you call on Elliot during dinner this evening?”
Coop plucked up her discarded petticoats from the fence and tossed them over his shoulder. He delayed in answering her question by clutching her hand and leading her through the gate. He walked briskly toward the carriage where he’d tethered Bandit.
Alexa jogged to keep up with his hurried strides. “You haven’t answered my—”
“Shh-shh-shh!” He made a stabbing gesture toward the front of the house where Oscar Denton stood as a posted sentinel.
Thankfully Alexa didn’t fire more questions while he scooped her up and set her on the seat. With Bandit tied behind the carriage, Coop hopped up beside her. Before she tried to interrogate him again, he laid his finger to her lips to shush her. Then he grabbed the reins and drove off.
She waited until he’d gone a quarter of a mile before she half turned on the seat to stare intently at him. “This is far enough. I demand to know what you wanted to talk to Elliot about. Do you work for Elliot? And why are you here now?”
He avoided the first question and said, “I wanted to know why a woman, who has more money than God and as many social connections as the governor, is practically walking a tightrope outside the window. Who is in there with Webster?” he demanded.
“A dark-haired harlot, judging by the sk
intight red dress she was wearing before it came off,” Alexa replied. “They were having a tête-à-tête and I saw far more than I wanted.”
She stared accusingly at him. “You scared another ten years off my life when you grabbed my ankle. At this rate I won’t last until my thirtieth birthday.”
Coop decided now was the time to tell Alexa about the madam. This should be the crowning blow that convinced her not to marry Webster The Philanderer.
“Webster has standing appointments with Lily Brantley, the owner of Lily’s Pleasure Resort,” he reported. “Three nights a week, I hear. Regular as clockwork. I don’t know how often they have these late-evening trysts at his office.”
He expected Alexa to recoil as if she had been slapped. Instead, she cocked her curly blond head and frowned. “Lily’s Pleasure Resort…” Her voice trailed off then she shook off whatever thought had distracted her momentarily and focused absolute concentration on Coop. “Do you work for Elliot?”
Coop hesitated, unsure whether he should lie or tell her the truth. He really preferred to tell her nothing at all. The less she knew about his reasons for being in Questa Springs the better off she’d be.
“Answer me, damn it,” she snapped impatiently.
Her harsh language made him chuckle. “Not the Goody Two-shoes I mistook you for, I see.” He clucked his tongue. “I didn’t know blue-blooded ladies were allowed to curse.”
She stared pointedly at his leg—the one he’d forgotten to bind up before he skulked around Webster’s ranch. “Not the invalid I mistook you for, either, are you? Does Elliot know there is nothing wrong with your leg? How long have you been working for him and in what capacity? The same capacity as Oscar Denton? Are you one of his hired guns that he planted in town to gather information and protect him from the resentful neighbors and business competitors that he says are trying to ruin his reputation?”
Coop’s brows swooped down over his narrowed gaze. He appraised Alexa astutely. He’d seen glimpses of her inner strength and depth of character during several telling moments. He was thoroughly convinced now that she was no airheaded female whose greatest aspiration was finding a man to support her in the manner she was accustomed.
“Who are you?” he asked flat out.
“You know who I am. I’m Harold Quinn’s—”
He waved her off. “No, who are you?” he said sharply.
She crossed her arms over her full bosom and stuck out her chin. “I have no idea what you mean.”
“Ha!” he burst out. “Don’t play dumb with me, lady. You’re anything but. First, you poison your bodyguard so you can tail Webster. Then you save Mrs. Fredericks from a thrashing, at the risk of your own injury, I might add. Now you’ve ditched Miguel so you can scale walls and spy on Webster and his concubine. What the hell are you really up to?”
“I told you repeatedly that I’m checking out every aspect of my prospective fiancé,” she muttered. “Quit changing the subject. Does Elliot employ you or not?”
He scowled and said, “Yes.”
She withdrew into herself so quickly that Coop did a double-take. She even scooted as far away as the tufted leather seat allowed. Then she stuck her nose in the air and ignored him as if he wasn’t there.
Coop wanted to tell her that he was on assignment and that her father wanted information about Webster’s character, morals and business ethics, in case Alexa decided to accept the wedding proposal. He wanted to expose each of Webster’s faults and assure Alexa that he was looking out for her, not Webster.
However, his dealings with Mr. Chester were confidential.
He couldn’t tell her anything and that tormented the hell out of him. He had to let her think the worst about him—and why she cared if he worked for Webster, Coop didn’t know. Maybe because she didn’t have much respect for Webster, which made Coop’s association with him distasteful to her. Whatever the case, she had turned her back, refusing to look at him or speak.
Coop took his cue to climb down before her frigid reaction caused frostbite. He knew this parting of ways was for the best because he didn’t need the kind of distraction Alexa caused. He was working a case, after all. Yet, he didn’t want her to think the worst about him. Not that he should care, damn it.
He hopped to the ground then pivoted toward her. “Just one last question,” he said, eager to satisfy his curiosity. “Why should it matter so much if I decide to work for Webster?”
She twisted on the seat to look straight into his eyes and said, “Because I expected better of you, Coop.”
He frowned, more confused than ever.
“Most men don’t disappoint me because I hold low expectations of them. Elliot wants my money and my connections, like so many men who ply me with false flattery and attention. I understand what makes them tick. But you usually don’t put on airs. I thought you were honest and trustworthy. My mistake.”
Before she snapped the reins on the horse’s rump and trotted away, he grabbed her hand. “If I’ve already disappointed you then I might as well do it up right—”
She yelped when he tugged on her hand and sent her tumbling into his arms.
It was insane, ill advised and impulsive, he knew. But if this was the last time Alexa came within ten feet of him—and he figured it would be—he had nothing to lose. He had been craving a long, thorough taste of her since she had kissed him unexpectedly on the boardwalk the previous night. If nothing else, he’d have this one moment to remember.
Coop bent Alexa over his arm and angled his head down to devour her lips. He plunged his tongue into her mouth and heard her surprised gasp. One moment she was shoving the heels of her hands against his shoulders to resist him and the next instant she encircled her arms around his neck and combed her fingers through his hair. She kissed him back without an ounce of reserve, as if she were starving for the taste of him, too.
Wild, incredible sensations ripped through him. He swore he was about to black out when she strained urgently against him then thrust her tongue into his mouth to deliver a sizzling wallop of a kiss. They shared the same breath until they were forced to come up for air. He inhaled raggedly, but her alluring scent fogged his brain again. She was the only thought he seemed capable of processing, the only need that he craved to obsession.
When he lifted her off the ground, she wrapped her legs around his hips. He knew she could feel him hard and aching between her legs. The heat curling inside him burned like a brand. He’d never wanted a woman as desperately and urgently as he wanted Alexa at this wild, reckless moment.
“Kiss me like that again,” she whispered as she tilted her head back to stare up at him. “I didn’t know desire could feel like this.”
He grinned rakishly. “Well, since you asked so nicely—”
Then he put all he had into their last kiss. All his forbidden fantasies. All the tenderness she deserved and he had yet to offer because unruly desire made him needy and impatient. But he vowed to take his time, to savor the intoxicating taste of her.
This was the kiss he wanted her to remember always. He seduced her dewy-soft lips as gently as he knew how. He glided his hands over her shapely hips, pressing her against his rigid length, letting her know how thoroughly his body reacted to her.
He wished they were naked, lying on a blanket beneath the canopy of twinkling stars. There and then, he wouldn’t allow himself to disappoint her in any way. If he could share one intimate moment with her, he would do all within his power to pleasure her beyond measure and to restore her opinion of him.
Only God knew why the prospect of disappointing Alexa in any form or fashion tormented him. But it did. He liked this woman. He liked being with her. She was naturally seductive, alluring, quick-witted and sassy. Plus, he hadn’t been able to get Alexa off his mind since the moment he met her. In addition, it was the first time in years that he’d looked forward to anything or to being with anyone.
His thoughts spun out of control when he brushed his fingertips over the soft skin
of her breasts. He felt her arch into him as he dipped his head to flick his tongue against her taut nipple. She moved restlessly against him, as if she, too, needed much more than a fleeting embrace in the moonlight.
“Coop?” she whispered unevenly. “Sweet mercy…” Her words trailed off and she kissed him hungrily again.
His knees threatened to fold up like a tent and he wasn’t sure he wanted to be held accountable for his actions tonight. His willpower seemed to have abandoned him, along with his good sense. Something about this complicated woman made him hot, hungry and irresponsible and provoked him to throw caution to the wind.
“What the hell is going on here?”
Hearing the outraged male voice explode from the darkness was equivalent to being doused with cold water. Hurriedly Alexa unhooked her legs from around Coop’s hips and launched herself away from him. Miguel’s voice, sharp with censure and reprimand, rang in her ears. Nevertheless, erotic sensations pulsated through her body and she staggered to keep her balance.
She glanced at Coop, wishing she could rail at him for igniting this wildfire of sensations that burned to the very core of her being. However, the instant he had clutched her to him and kissed her so thoroughly, her sanity had abandoned her. He tasted wicked and delicious and she hadn’t been able to get enough of him.
If Miguel’s timing hadn’t been so perfect, she wasn’t sure she could have gathered enough self-control to stop until they were naked in each other’s arms. She and Coop might have ended up like Elliot and Lily—tossing aside garments to touch each other intimately.
The provocative thought sent a hot blush rising from her neck to stain her cheeks. She skimmed her hand over the bodice of her gown to ensure that she was properly covered. Coop, she discovered, was still staring intently at her, paying no attention whatsoever to Miguel, who was stamping toward them like an angry elephant.
“Now you must die!” Miguel snarled at Coop.