Do Not Disturb

by Christie Ridgway

  “What?” Beth’s fingers convulsed against Judd’s. “We can’t. We canceled. We burned the paintings.”

  “We’ll reschedule. We’ll reschedule and show these paintings.” She darted for the door. “I’m going to fetch Cooper. He’s got to see them.”

  Lainey rushed out, leaving Judd and Beth alone.

  After a moment, she slowly approached the nearest painting. Her hand was still linked with Judd’s, so he followed, but she didn’t seem to notice that, or even him, as she stared at the canvas.

  “He told me they were destroyed,” she whispered. “I begged him to, because I was afraid someday someone would find them and the truth would come out.”

  She looked at Judd, her eyes wide and dark in her pale face. “Stephen painted them as a comfort, he told me. Though he swore they weren’t, I’ve always thought they were portraits of the child I miscarried. Our child. Mine and Stephen’s.”

  Shocked, Judd turned abruptly away. A violent tide of jealousy swamped him, washing through him, washing over his chi, washing away everything but the image of Beth pregnant. Pregnant with Stephen’s child.

  Stephen. Goddamn it. Always Stephen. His fists clenched.

  No. No! Judd struggled to regain control of himself. Taoism taught him to reject violence and envy. Just about every religion in the world—and he’d studied a shitload—preached against hate. But now he was feeling things he’d never gone looking for.

  Five years ago, he’d left his shallow existence trading stocks and come to Big Sur to look deep. To find an authentic life—one of harmony, balance, peace!

  Not this…this confusion of emotion, he thought, dropping Beth’s hand. Never this.

  “I’m taking off in a few minutes.” Turning away from the infirmary’s closed door, Angel brought the receiver closer to her mouth and lowered her voice another notch. “Tell Jane I’ll be in the office this afternoon. Though I never got the widow’s sister to talk, I interviewed everyone else.”

  Her bags were loaded in her car. She’d double-checked the drawers in her cottage, she’d removed her shampoo from the shower, she’d looked beneath the narrow bed. She wasn’t leaving anything behind.

  On the other end of the line, her intern said something that made Angel frown. “I haven’t phoned in a few days because I’ve been busy, Cara. Busy working.”

  What Cara said next had her rolling her eyes. “Where do you get this stuff? No, I haven’t found myself some mountain man to fall wildly in love with. Not even mildly in love with.” She made a sound of disgust. “Is that all you called to talk to me about?”

  The squeak of the infirmary door opening made her spin. “Right, right. I called you. Well, I gotta go now.”

  Across the metal desk, she met Cooper’s dark gaze. Everything inside her jumped, and she felt a flush burst across her skin. He looked a little ticked, but she didn’t know if it was because she’d sneaked out of his bed at dawn—leaving him sprawled across the mattress in deep slumber—or because she’d been using the forbidden phone.

  She decided against finding out which reason it was. Scooting around the desk, she set her sights on the door.

  In her hurry, her sleek-soled sneakers lost their purchase on the glossy linoleum. Her balance wavered.

  As Cooper’s hand shot out to catch her, she lurched back to avoid it. Her hip slammed against the corner of the desk, and wincing, she regained her footing. Thank God she hadn’t had to grab him. Hang on.

  Taking a deep breath, she forced herself to walk forward again. Heart thudding, she passed him, taking in the smell of his soap and damp skin. Then she was at the doorway, then over the threshold.

  He’d let her go.

  Of course he had. He’d never been interested in holding on to her in the first place.

  Within moments she was heading down the steep, downhill path that led from the cottages to the parking lot. She didn’t look back, just breathed in the mingled fragrances of trees, salty ocean, and sun-baked hills.

  As last memories went, she told herself, it wasn’t so bad.

  “Angel.”

  At the sound of Cooper’s voice just a few feet behind her, she jumped. The jerky movement made her sneakers lose purchase on the thin carpet of fallen pine needles that covered the path. She dug in her heels to stop her impromptu slide and her arms windmilled.

  From the corner of her eye, she saw him leaping for her, his hand reaching out to steady her. But another desperate, graceless flap of her arms took care of the job. His hand dropped to his side.

  “Are you all right?” he asked.

  She didn’t look at him. “Of course. I’m fine.”

  Cursing herself for not leaving while he was still sleeping, she continued on. He didn’t want to discuss the night before, did he? Because she didn’t want to talk about it. Any of it.

  But why else would he be following her?

  Maybe he wanted her phone number. Maybe he wanted her address. Maybe he was going to suggest they should get together when he moved back to the city.

  In her mind’s eye, she could see the two of them in a small city bistro, knees and briefcases bumping beneath a bottlecap-sized table. She’d tell him about her day and he’d laugh at Cara’s latest romantic tangle. He’d rant about his current case and she’d lean across the table and kiss the frown from his mouth.

  They’d leave the restaurant and head…

  Home.

  God, she could see that too. Tom Jones, her neighbor’s cat, would be waiting in the hall. She would lean down to pet him as Cooper opened their door. Inside, he’d stop her from turning on one of the news channels and instead pull her into his arms to fill the silence with the sound of his heartbeat. Later, when he opened his briefcase and spread out his papers, she’d hook her finger in the open collar of his shirt and draw him away from them and into the bedroom.

  She was still deep in the feathery depths of the daydream when they reached her car.

  “Angel.”

  She fought her way out of the fantasy, then hesitated. What if he asked for her number? What should she do? Should she agree to see him again?

  “Angel.”

  With that lovely fantasy still so fresh, she decided. Yes. She whirled toward him. “All right, it’s—”

  He was holding out a brown grocery bag. His eyebrows rose as she merely stared at him. “It’s your stuff,” he said.

  Her stuff.

  “Your laptop, cell phone, hairdryer.”

  Here’s your hat, Angel thought wryly, what’s your hurry? But it was just what she deserved for flying off on some stupid fancy. She snatched the bag from him and stuffed it in the backseat of her car. “Thanks.” Then she slammed the door and forced herself to turn toward him again.

  “I guess that’s it,” she made herself say.

  “Yeah.” His eyes were serious. Unreadable.

  “Cooper—”

  “Angel—”

  They both broke off. He signaled Go ahead with his hand.

  Sloughing off the awkwardness, she managed a smile. “Well, then.”

  “Well,” he echoed. “Then.”

  She nodded, smiled, nodded again. “Have a good rest of your life.”

  The muscle along his jaw twitched. “Yeah. You too.”

  Now, she commanded herself, looking down at the keys gripped in her fist. Say goodbye now.

  But when she lifted her head, the only thing that worked was her memory. As she looked into Cooper’s face, she saw it in the candlelight of the night before. Golden flames flickering in his eyes. Golden heat building inside her body. His hands, working magic. Long fingers teasing her where their two bodies met.

  She glanced down and saw his hand flex against his jeans-clad thigh. She remembered that hand on her breast, trailing through her hair, sliding down her side and then around to grip her bottom as he pulled her down against him and ground up against her.

  “Angel,” he whispered. The hand left his side and reached for her.

  On in
stinct, Angel hopped back. The soles of her shoes skidded on the gravel and lost their grip, the world tilting for the third time that morning. In slow motion, she felt herself falling, felt only air beneath her. Then she saw him move for her again, both hands extended to save her.

  Closing her eyes, she knew, just like she’d known the two times before, that she couldn’t expect him to catch her. The only person who could save her was herself, Angel thought, but this time it was too late.

  She braced for the inevitable, unpleasant crash. Then his fingers closed around her upper arms, yanked her upright. Against him.

  They both sucked in a sharp breath.

  “Thanks,” she managed to get past her surprise.

  He grunted, not moving. Not moving her.

  She noticed her hands were on him too, her fingers twisted in the soft cotton of his T-shirt. Time to let go, she ordered, staring at them. Time to let go. They slowly obeyed.

  Angel made herself look at Cooper one last time. This is it. “Good—”

  “Cooper!”

  At the excited shout they both started. Cooper swung around, swinging Angel with him.

  “Cooper! Angel!” It was Lainey running toward them, her cheeks flushed and her eyes bright. “You have to come with me. You have to see this!”

  “What?” Cooper asked.

  His sister shook her head, smiling. “Come and see. Both of you have to come and see.”

  He glanced down at Angel. “Do you have time?” His thumbs caressed the inside of her arms.

  Something like relief flooded through her. “Hmm, well, okay.” And with a little shrug, she made as if she were doing Lainey and Cooper a favor instead of doing what she had to admit she’d been doing since the sun rose—postponing this strangely painful, strangely poignant goodbye.

  “She shouldn’t have done it.” Frustrated, Cooper jammed his hands in his pockets and looked across the room at Angel. They were alone, surrounded by the newly discovered paintings. “Lainey shouldn’t have mentioned it.”

  Angel was staring out one of the windows instead of studying the newfound canvases. “She didn’t ‘mention’ it. She asked if I’d stay a few more days.”

  God, he was irritated with Lainey for putting Angel in such an awkward position. Or maybe it was Angel who was irritating him with her calm, reasonable tone of voice.

  He was definitely annoyed that she’d almost snuck away from the retreat without saying goodbye to him.

  He was absolutely pissed with himself for being glad she hadn’t.

  “Still, don’t think you have to agree.” He made an impatient wave of his hand. “It’s gotta be a bad idea.”

  “To include the art show in my story?”

  “No. Yes!” He blew out an impatient breath of air, then shoved his hand through his hair. “How should I know? You’re the writer.”

  What he didn’t want to say was that the bad idea was her remaining at Tranquility any longer. He’d been thirty seconds away from getting her safely out of his life. She was trouble. He’d known that from the beginning and he felt it even stronger now.

  “I could use a fresh angle, that’s for sure,” she said slowly, as if thinking the idea through. “Lainey told me she’s given other interviews. My story’s shaping up to be nothing more than another Whitney requiem.”

  Cooper didn’t like the note of consideration in her voice. If she stayed on until after the show, how would he keep away from her? What would stop him from touching her, getting close to her?

  Hurting Angel was the last thing he wanted to do, and that’s what might happen if she thought they were heading for a relationship. They’d met at one funeral, and he sure as hell didn’t want her saying goodbye to him at another. At his own.

  He paced toward her. “I’m sure you can’t be away from your job any longer.”

  “This is my job,” she pointed out, then transferred her gaze back out the windows. “By the way, did your sister seem a little…upset?”

  Angel was wearing that sophisticated perfume of hers. He’d smelled it when he’d woken that morning, on his sheets, on his hands. Damn it, he had to make sure she left Tranquility if he had hopes of finding tranquility for himself!

  “Lainey didn’t seem upset, she seemed wound up with excitement,” he said, taking another step toward Angel, taking another breath of her scent. He couldn’t help himself.

  Angel’s eyes flicked toward him, flicked away. Then she sidestepped out of his reach. “I wasn’t talking about Lainey. I meant Beth. Is there something bothering her?”

  Cooper shrugged, following Angel as she moved toward the center of the room. “She canceled the whole damn show, now she has to scramble to put it together again.”

  Angel darted a glance at him over her shoulder. “You don’t think there should be a show?”

  His gaze slid down the line of her spine. She was wearing a rib-sticking T-shirt with hip-hugging jeans. The pants were fringed at the ankle and one of the back pockets was missing. His gaze focused on that missing back pocket and suddenly he wanted to slide his hands there, then under the pants, the panties, to cup that sleek skin he’d held last night.

  She’d trembled when he’d touched her there, when he’d held her to him.

  He stalked up behind her, so close she had to feel his breath on her neck. He leaned into her, his cheek nearly touching hers. “Why the hell did you run out on me this morning?”

  He saw the goosebumps surface on her throat, and then she hurried away from him.

  Oh yeah, Cooper thought with a quick surge of relief. His question had popped out unplanned, but her reaction proved he held the trump card. He would get her away from here, he could. Pushing her sexually, even if it was with only talk, would send her running back to San Francisco.

  She wouldn’t want to risk how intimacy made her vulnerable to him, he knew that now.

  Let me, he’d said. Those words, even when he was hard inside of her and she was riding the very edge of orgasm, had nearly scared her into full retreat.

  She drifted toward another of the tower windows. “You didn’t answer. Is the art show a bad idea?”

  “No.” He closed in, standing right behind her. “From what I know about Stephen’s popularity, newly discovered paintings will have the public slavering. For financial reasons, the family needs to take advantage of that.”

  “My story will help fuel the interest, especially if I decide to stay and cover the show.”

  No! Thinking quickly, he put his hands against the windowsill, caging her with his body. Then he leaned in, his breath stirring her hair. “Are you sure you want to do that?”

  When she didn’t answer, he tried reading her mind by studying her profile, etched in the light coming through the window. Its pure, delicate lines mesmerized him for a moment. His next breath fluttered through her hair again, and an answering tremor vibrated through her body.

  She’s so fragile, he thought.

  But it was all the more reason to push her. They’d both be better off when she returned to San Francisco. Inching closer, he pressed his groin against the pretty curve of her ass. “You’re trembling, honey. Are you afraid of me?”

  She whirled to face him, though she arched back against the sill to put some distance between them. “Afraid? Of you?”

  “Afraid. Of me.” He was counting on it. Reaching out, he wrapped one of her curls around his finger. “Of how close we were last night.”

  She tossed her head, trying to get free of him. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  He didn’t like to bulldoze women. Hell, he didn’t bulldoze women. But there was a greater good to this. His smile was slow and full of promises. Threats. “You have to be close with a man, Angel. And honest, if you want intimacy. Satisfying intimacy.”

  “Our night is over. That was the agreement,” she said, shrinking against the windowsill, her heavenly eyes going wide and nervous.

  The scared look on her face made him queasy, but this was where h
e wanted her, right?

  Yeah, right where he felt like a sadistic brute. A brute who went around terrorizing sweet young things who had just given him the best lay of his life.

  What the hell had he been thinking? He didn’t need to go this far. Angel was a smart woman. She knew herself it was time for them to part. Lifting his hands, he stepped back. “You’re right, you’re right. That was our agreement. Don’t worry, I promise I won’t touch you again.”

  Her relief was so palpable he cursed himself once more, then braced for her goodbye.

  Instead of a farewell, though, she whammied him with a saucy smile that swiped the trepidation off her face and slapped it onto his. “Perfect,” she said. “With that small obstacle out of the way, I believe I will stay a few more days.”

  On that note, she flung her hair over her shoulders and sashayed toward the tower door, her hips swinging. At the threshold, she paused, turning to cast him a devilish look. “What’s the matter, Cooper? Are you afraid of me?”

  No shit, Sherlock. He was very afraid. Because as smart as he was, as experienced with criminals and the law, he kept forgetting that what she hid under that sweet and vulnerable-looking shell was female, fascinating, and most definitely lethal.

  Chapter 14

  Two days later, Angel lay stretched on a blanket in the shade near the grass clearing beside Tranquility House’s common building. Through half-closed eyes she watched a gathering of retreatants, led by Judd, pretzel themselves through a succession of tai chi moves. She was a single boredom straw away from joining them.

  She should have left for San Francisco when she’d had the chance. Instead, she’d let Cooper goad her into staying.

  No, no. That wasn’t right. He hadn’t goaded her, she thought, twisting her head to follow as a thirty-something woman struck a pose that looked not only uncomfortable, but downright dangerous. He hadn’t wanted Angel to stay and he’d tried to scare her away with talk of sex.

  That had goaded her into staying. The fact that he’d tried to scare her into leaving.