By the time she’d looked through them twice, her fiancé was still MIA. Nerves jangling, she pushed back her chair. “I think I’ll go find him,” she told Roger.
But she didn’t, not at first. Instead she wound her way through the food hall, searching for her equilibrium. With Brad back from Boston, she’d thought reconnecting with him and his dad tonight would realign her priorities and bring back into focus the future she’d planned—well, that she and Brad had planned.
But he seemed so preoccupied and she continued to be haunted by those minutes at the Saturday barbecue. She shook her head, attempting to dislodge those thoughts. Her gaze hopscotched about the room until she spied Brad, his back to her, appearing to be in deep conversation with Ben Gillespie. The other man had left the military before Brad and it was he who’d recruited her fiancé for a position in a nationwide security business.
“Surely they’ve talked shop enough,” she muttered, making her way toward them. Brad had been back from Boston for two days and the two worked in the same office.
Reaching the men, she put her hand on the small of Brad’s back. He flinched, then glanced sharply over his shoulder. “Oh,” he said. “You.”
She pinned on a smile. “Me. Not that other woman wearing your ring.”
He ignored the teasing. “You remember Ben.”
“Of course.” Smiling, she gave him a nod. “I think I spotted you getting your hair cut the other day.”
Ben’s hand went to his hair and he ruffled the dark layers. Where Brad was farm-boy handsome, with looks that belonged to a man driving a tractor or forking bales of hay, Ben was a dark, lean prince. He must have women eating out of his hand.
“I guess I, uh, overlooked you,” he said.
They all knew you, saw you, I promise that.
“Right.” She ignored the echo of Cooper’s words and looked to Brad. “No drinks?”
“I got caught up talking about work stuff,” he said quickly. “Sorry.”
“It’s okay.” She ran her palm up his broad back, some instinct telling her he needed soothing. “Is there a problem?” she asked, addressing both men.
“No,” they said together, glanced at each other, then laughed awkwardly.
Brad hooked his arm around Willow’s neck and drew her close to buss the top of her head. “Let’s go hit the bar right now.”
“Okay.” She leaned into her best friend, enjoying his solid muscles and certain warmth. He’d always been her rock as well as her future. “Ben, would you like to join us for dinner?”
“We’re here with my dad,” Brad added quickly. “A little catch-up family time.”
“Then I won’t intrude,” the other man said. He lifted a hand. “See you in the office tomorrow.”
They exchanged goodbyes.
“Bar’s this way,” Brad said then. His hands, heavy on her shoulders, turned Willow in the opposite direction and propelled her forward.
Nearly pushing her nose into the chest of Cooper Daggett.
She reared back, stepping on Brad’s toes in her effort to avoid a collision. “Whoa,” her fiancé said, his hands sliding to her waist. Then he addressed Cooper. “Sorry about that.”
“No problem.” He slanted a glance at Willow. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”
“Right.” She sounded breathless, her heart having jumped into her throat. “I guess we had the same idea.”
His gaze still on hers, his head tilted a fraction. “Did we?”
Her face burned hot, because they’d not spoken of that certain almost-kiss they’d been on the brink of sharing before she’d told him the truth. After she’d confirmed her engagement, she’d scurried away from Hart’s house and Cooper hadn’t bothered to pursue her.
But, yes, they’d had the same idea that evening.
A kiss. Kissing each other.
Willow hauled in a breath and glanced behind her, knowing an explanation was owed to Brad. “This is my new, um, client, Cooper Daggett. The one who—”
“Had the winning raffle ticket for your services,” Brad finished for her. He reached out an arm and delivered a hearty handshake. “I’m Brad Faber, Willow’s—”
“Fiancé.” Cooper wore an easy smile. “She mentioned her engagement.”
“Right.” She forced on her own bright expression. “Well, we should—”
“But she didn’t tell me the wedding date,” Cooper said. “I’m sure you want to get the wedding band that matches that ring on her finger as soon as possible.”
Behind her, she felt Brad stiffen.
“He just got out of the Marines and has a new job,” Willow said hurriedly, though she thought scheduling the event a necessary idea herself. “One change at a time is enough.”
“Ah.” Cooper slipped his hands in his pockets, like he lived for casual conversation and had all the time in the world. “What kind of work are you transitioning to, Brad?”
“I have a position in the Central California office of EagleSec. We perform security functions—from cyber threats aimed at companies to physical protection for CEOs and celebrities.”
“Then you know Ben Gillespie.”
Brad’s hands squeezed her waist. She glanced up, only to find her fiancé’s face was wiped clean of expression. “We work together. And you know him…”
“From the gym at our condo complex,” Cooper said. “I noticed you talking to him earlier. He and I shoot the shit from time to time around the free weights.”
“Right.” Brad’s grip relaxed on Willow.
“Right,” she echoed. She swallowed and again tried to break up their impromptu meeting. “We should let you get back to—”
“I need to call you off the work at my condo, Willow,” Cooper said abruptly. “I was going to phone you, but…”
“Oh.” She was ridiculously glad he hadn’t called, because that would be too intimate, his voice in her ear, no one else there to witness their private conversation. The wrong things might be spoken, the wrong fantasies might pop into her head.
But did he mean he didn’t want her services any longer? Disappointment carved a little hole beneath her breastbone. “Is there a problem?”
“Yeah.” He was sending a message with his eyes. You know there is.
“Oh.” The pain in her chest twinged. “I understand.”
“I hope you will. Would it be possible for you to channel your energies into some work that needs doing at Fun & Games?” He glanced up at Brad. “That’s my place. A brew pub that features retro arcade games and the like.”
“You want me to suggest changes there?” Willow asked.
“I recall you told me you have experience in business design.”
“I do. My previous firm did some projects for a group of restaurants—I was heavily involved.”
“Great, that’s a plan then. You’d mostly work with my new manager,” Cooper said. “She’s aware of our problem areas. I’ll stay out of the way.”
We won’t need to see each other.
She could suddenly read Cooper in all the ways she couldn’t read Brad.
It’ll be better for us both.
“Sure. Okay,” she said, certain he was right. Her head nodded, underscoring her agreement. Minimal—if any—contact with the man would keep her safe. Already she could see their brief temptation as a fleeting fancy. Nothing lasting. Nothing threatening to her peace of mind or to the future she’d designed years ago.
“Damn,” Brad muttered. He pulled his phone from his pocket, held it up. “Honey, I’ve got to take this, okay?”
Without even waiting for an answer, he strode off, leaving Willow alone.
With her fleeting fancy.
Cooper was looking at her again, a half smile quirking one corner of his mouth. With Brad no longer at her back, once more she felt at the mercy of that aching, unwelcome longing and the undesirable yet sizzling attraction.
No. Oh, no.
A beat of charged silence passed between them and she was forced to admi
t the truth to herself. Even when Brad had been standing behind her, chest-to-spine, her rock, her safe haven, her intended future hadn’t kept her safe.
Even then, as now, she was wishing she’d experienced that almost-kiss with Cooper.
That kiss, and more.
Cooper’s gaze remained fixed on the designer. Despite everything, he couldn’t look away, not when Willow was dressed in a sweet little swing of a skirt, sleeveless top. The three-inch wedge sandals were probably necessary for her to murmur sweet nothings into the ear of that hulk of a man whose ring she wore.
“How long have you been engaged to Captain America?” he asked. Then he masked his wince by sliding a hand over his mouth. The snide remark wasn’t like him, just as it wasn’t like him to pine for things out of reach.
She lifted her chin. “Why do you want to know?”
Hell if he had a good answer. But something compelled him to push forward, as if perhaps details would vaporize his troublesome fascination with her. He cleared his throat. “You seem, uh, very comfortable with each other.”
Cooper hadn’t noticed any such thing, not really. He’d only seen Willow, he’d only had eyes for Willow, his gaze snapping to her as he took a quick scan of the space upon entering the food hall. The man behind her had registered as a mere shadow—no, as an obstacle between him and what he wanted.
Shit. He should be over this by now.
“Brad lived next door to my foster mom’s. We’ve been together since high school.” Willow glanced down at her left hand, then back up at Cooper. “And engaged for four years.”
Seventy-two hours had passed since Cooper had watched her leave the barbecue, the intended kiss floating in the air after her like a balloon.
He’d let both go without protest. He wasn’t a man who wasted time on what couldn’t be.
Just like he didn’t need to waste time standing here any longer. The opportunity had arisen to request she refocus her energies on Fun & Games. He’d done that, effectively dealing with the problem of her presence in his personal space. Move on, Daggett, he ordered himself.
He cleared his throat again. “I guess I should—”
“Sure.” She brushed him away with her hand. “Have a great evening.”
Her cool dismissal didn’t annoy him, he decided. “Yeah, I—” Then he broke off, his attention caught on her Captain America, his phone put away but now in a second conversation with that guy, Ben Gillespie. “Your boyfriend’s in no hurry to get back to you.”
Willow followed his gaze. “My fiancé doesn’t have to be tethered to my side.”
“Right.” Though Cooper stupidly yearned to be at her side, back, front. Her scent tickled his nose, the scent of pink flowers crushed against tender skin. Shutting his eyes, he tried working up an apology, or some explanation of his shithead behavior.
“Coop!” A warm hand squeezed his forearm. “Were you looking for me?”
He glanced down at the woman with her hold on him. She wore her hair short as a boy’s, and it framed her mischievous brown eyes and high cheekbones. Talia was fun and fun-loving and when she breezed into town on her pharmaceutical rep rounds, she often called him.
“I figured you’d find me,” Cooper said, smiling at her. Surely she was the antidote to all that ailed him. “I’m so glad you got in touch, by the way. Want to share a pizza?”
“With your friend, too?” Talia asked, nodding her head at Willow. “Hi,” she said, reaching out a hand. “I’m Talia Hughes.”
The two women exchanged greetings while Cooper murmured Willow’s name. “But we only need to find a two-top, Tally,” he said. “Willow’s here with her man. At least he was here…”
Sue him, Cooper made a slow show of looking around for the absent fiancé who had disappeared in the increasingly crowded space.
Tally didn’t catch his act nor the barbed look Willow sent his way. Ouch.
“Okay,” the brunette said. “How about I stand in line to order the pizza and you get us some beers and a table?”
“Great.”
With a cheery goodbye for Willow, Tally strode off, ever energetic. Cooper watched her for a moment, then faced the designer again.
“Pretty,” she said, eyes on the other woman. “Peppy.”
“We’re just friends,” he heard himself say, then wanted to kick himself in the head. It was none of Willow’s damn business.
Which she made clear with a nonchalant shrug. “Well, enjoy your evening.”
“Yeah, you too.” He paused, expecting her to turn and walk away from him.
Except she didn’t move, as if she was waiting for him to retreat first. It only made him root his feet to the floor.
She crossed her arms over her chest.
He mimicked the action.
After a moment longer of the standoff, the childish idiocy of it sank in and he sighed. Truly, what had gotten into him? “Have a great dinner,” he said, and turned his back on her to head for the bar. And beers. He needed at least two to start.
“Cooper.”
At her voice, he spun around. “Yeah?”
“About…”
About what? That kiss they should have shared? About those zip-zap-zings that flew through the air whenever they were within feet of each other? About what the hell they were going to do about the fact that all he wanted was to snatch her up and taste her mouth with his?
“I’ll make sure you don’t see me,” she finally said, “if you let me know your schedule.”
He blinked. “Huh?”
“When I go by Fun & Games. You made it clear you want to avoid me.”
“Avoid you?”
She nodded. “So I’ll make sure I arrange to meet with your manager when you’re not around.”
As if Cooper was a coward! As if Cooper couldn’t trust himself in her presence! Completely aware he should be leaping to accept her offer, he bristled instead, once again made an idiot by how she affected him, with her swingy skirt and her pink flower-scented flesh, and that mouth.
That mouth.
Something about that mouth, that kiss that had never happened—the kiss that never would happen—forced him to act against his own self-interests. It was maddening.
But a man had to have his pride. “Don’t worry about me and what I’m doing,” he said. Even if that unfinished business lingered between them forever, he’d find his way back to his former easy-come, easy-go self.
Chapter Six
Cooper sat back in the chair pulled up to the battered metal desk in the office at Fun & Games and let satisfaction wash over him. His meeting with the new manager, Georgia, couldn’t have gone better. The receipts looked good, she had an excellent handle on the ordering system, and right now was checking the inventory—a job he had gladly given over to her.
Life was good.
Several days after his unexpected meet with Willow at the food hall and he’d managed to box up the inconvenient interest he felt for her and get on with things. He picked up his phone and swiped to find the designer’s sketches that Georgia had photographed and sent to him for approval. He liked the proposed plan for painting a focal wall in the vestibule and carrying that look onto the concrete floors. According to his manager, Willow had already found a cast-off industrial piece to use as the reception desk and would embellish it with the brew pub’s logo.
Winning her—um, her services—in that raffle had really proved to be his lucky day, just like he’d thought.
And today certainly was going to be another of them, he decided, as he saw his sister breeze into the room, a to-go coffee cup in hand. She placed it in front of him on a paper napkin and gave him a cheeky grin. “Who’s the best sister in all the world?”
He pretended to scowl. “Don’t think a tall Americano is going to make me forget you foisted that damn party on me.”
“It’s going to be great. And by the way, I love what’s going on that wall in the entry.”
“How do you know about that?”
�
��I saw Willow out there,” she said, nodding in the direction of the public area. “She told me.”
So much for his luck. Until now they’d not crossed paths, even though he’d known she’d stopped in the pub more than once to assess the situation and talk with Georgia.
“Yeah?” He picked up his coffee. “How’d she look?”
Sophie’s brows shot toward her hairline. “I don’t know how you want me to answer that.”
Was she wearing her ring? Did she seem unattainable? Was she in another skirt or maybe jeans this time, tight and—
He was an idiot. “Never mind.”
“I did find out a little about her fiancé.”
His gaze jumped to his sister’s face. In a moment of weakness, he might have asked Sophie, who worked in the coffee place where just about everyone in a five-mile radius visited a few times a week, to gather some intel about Brad Faber. “Oh, uh, well.” He made a vague go-ahead gesture that sloshed hot coffee over his fingers. “Shit.”
Sophie grabbed the napkin from the desk and blotted the liquid. “Maybe you should run cold water over this.”
He pushed her hand away. “I’m fine.”
“Whatever you say.” She made a big show of crumpling up the napkin and then taking aim at the wastebasket in the corner of the room.
His patience disappeared before she’d made her two points. “Spill it, Soph.”
“You already did.”
“Soph,” he said, a big brother warning in his voice. “I don’t want to play games with you.”
She let fly the napkin, watched it land accurately, then turned her innocent face back to him. “You’ve told me so many times that’s what you’re good for. You know. Games, fun, nothing serious.”
A jury would understand, wouldn’t they? After all, he’d had to compromise his self-respect to make the inquiry in the first place. She shouldn’t want to make him beg for the results.
Instead of going after her, though, he used another weapon in his sibling arsenal. “Never mind.” He shuffled some papers on the desk. “I don’t really care.”
ANTE UP (7-Stud Club Book 3) Page 7