by S. A. Wolfe
Cooper could be attached if he wanted—there are plenty of women vying for his attention—so that really leaves me as the odd person out. I was never this woman. I always had some type of boyfriend; either the serious kind I loved being with every day or the make-do guy I kept around until something better came along. The joke is on me. Apparently, I became a make-do girlfriend, and I didn’t even know it until Jeremy left me.
“Thank you. Again,” I say quietly to Cooper while he is struggling with some tiny seed beads that fall out of his large hand. These guys have fingers and hands for rough labor and lumber, not little beads. “Let me help you.” I gather the beads and put them in their designated tray grooves.
He turns to me, frustrated. “Imogene, this isn’t a favor or a chore. I like doing this for you. But I am having trouble reading the little code numbers on these sheets.”
He reaches inside the pocket of the T-shirt he borrowed from Leo earlier, pulling out a pair of black Clark Kent eyeglasses and putting them on in order to read Lauren’s tiny handwriting. At breakfast, I assumed they were sunglasses.
“I didn’t know you wore glasses.” I’m mesmerized by the transformation. He still looks like a biker stud, but the glasses add a new dimension of sexy, hip professor. I like it.
“I only wear them when I can’t read fine print. I can’t tell the difference between the C4 bead and the C6 without the glasses, and I don’t want Lauren to hit the roof if I screw this up.”
Lauren’s head pops up at the mention of her name, and her mouth drops open at the sight of Cooper. “Oh, my God, Cooper! You look adorable in those glasses. Why haven’t I ever seen you wearing them?”
“I got them a month ago, still getting used to them.” He looks uneasy with everyone staring at him.
“You look so good in those. Wow.” Emma grins and then looks at me.
“Right?” I ask, smiling. “Who knew?”
“Aw, come on,” Dylan gripes. “They’re geek glasses. What’s the big deal?”
“Hey!” Jess leans forward and points to the black nerdy glasses she’s wearing. “I have the same glasses, and no one says I’m adorable.”
“You’re kcuffing gorgeous,” Carson quips forcefully and with perfect timing, causing Jess to blush and kiss his cheek.
“Honey,” Emma says, rubbing Dylan’s back, “if it will make you feel like part of the gang, I will go down to the drug store tomorrow and buy you some fake Clark Kent glasses.”
Dylan smiles at his wife. I still can’t believe they’re newlyweds. All of these damn lovebirds are too much.
“Copy cats,” Cooper mumbles to me, making me a little giddy.
He does look adorable with his striking eyes peeking out from behind the black frames, his hair tucked behind his ear. He looks incredibly studious and hunky, making me want one more kiss before I put a stop to this for real.
“Oh, seventy million,” Jess whispers to herself, but we all hear it. We’re used to her odd tic and generally ignore it; however, this time, I can’t.
“Why is it always seventy million? Why not thirty million or eighty-four million?” I ask.
“No, those aren’t good numbers. Right, Jess?” Cooper comes to her defense.
Jess regards Cooper for a moment, waiting for him to make a joke, but then realizes he’s serious. “He’s right. They’re not good numbers.”
“Why? I want to know where this comes from,” I badger.
“Leave my wife alone,” Carson says without looking up.
This bead project has proven to be very challenging for him and Dylan; however, the women are already on their second set of designs, and I’m quite optimistic that Cooper’s intervention is going to help us get ahead this time.
“I don’t think I can explain it to you,” Jess says, pushing a completed tray forward. “When I get anxious or screw up, or even sometimes when I’m happy, the numbers make me feel good.”
“I know that, but I want to know why seventy million in particular is so special.”
Jess frowns at me. “It just is. Why do you like to wear green so much?”
“Because I look awesome in it,” I reply.
“Jess needs certain numbers,” Cooper intervenes. “They are patterns to her, like the computer coding she does. Even her paintings are a system of visual patterns. Seventy million is ingrained. She’s probably been using that number for years as a stim.”
“Stim?” Carson asks, suddenly interested.
“Stimming behavior,” Jess explains, giving Cooper a long, hard look.
“It’s a self-soothing behavior,” Cooper continues. “Lots of people have them without knowing it. When Dylan is sitting down at a desk, he always shakes his crossed foot.” Naturally, everyone looks at Dylan for confirmation or an exhibition of his foot shaking, which we’ve already witnessed many times over. “And Lauren often snaps her fingers. Only on the right hand, though, and then she immediately always lifts up a strand of hair and twirls it on the same fingers.”
“You do,” Leo confirms.
“Carson has to work a room from right to left.” Carson gives him a questioning look. “You do. When we’re working at a house, it doesn’t matter what room we’re in, you start on the right side and you coordinate your plans to fit accordingly. That one is kind of cool, but you also do the same thing at the factory. When you do your walk around, you always go in the same direction and stop and talk to people in the same order every time.”
“How is that self-soothing if I’m not aware of it?” Carson asks.
“It’s not as obvious or as frequent as Jess’s behavior, but it’s consistent, and you do it because…?”
“It feels comfortable,” Carson answers.
“Oh, do me! Do me!” Emma practically jumps off her stool.
“Do me? Listen to yourself.” Dylan almost laughs, but he still has little bouts of jealousy when Cooper commands the attention of every female in the room.
“Oh, shush.” Emma slaps his arm.
“Well, Miss Emma, since I had the opportunity of tailing you and your ex for a while, I picked up a few things about you,” Cooper says, referring to the period when Cooper worked undercover, following Emma’s ex-boyfriend, the son of a mobster. It was all very exciting gossip last year. Said ex-boyfriend was innocent, although he obviously had to get out of the picture, even if his father is doing hard time. It’s not as interesting as this newly discovered party trick of Cooper’s.
“Did I do weird stuff?” Emma glances at Jess who has obvious quirks.
“Hey, now,” Jess says defensively.
“Well, your tic stands out. No one has ever mentioned that I have one, so I’m curious to know how pronounced my self-soothing behavior is.” Emma laughs. “It even sounds weird.”
“You do a few different things, but one that stands out to me is that you always cross your arms behind your back and hold your elbows. You do it when you’re nervous, talking to a new client in person or even on the phone. When the delivery trucks come in with the new lumber or you meet any delivery person you don’t know, you do it. You look people in the eye when you talk to them, but then your arms go behind your back.”
“That’s totally you,” Dylan says.
“Yours is also kind of a tell,” Cooper explains. “I bet you’re terrible at poker.”
“I am. Lois and Archie taught me how to play, and I’m always the first one out.”
“Lois is a card shark, but she’s also reading you. She knows when you’re bluffing,” Cooper explains.
“Did you learn all of this at FBI school?” I ask.
Cooper laughs. “Yeah, I learned how to profile people when I was training at Quantico. One of my instructors said I had a special knack for it, a deeper intuition about people. I suppose I was always studying people more than others would. That’s how I ended up going undercover.”
“Hmm.” I’m aware that everyone is probably observing us, but I can’t help my
self from staring at Cooper’s eyes. He responds with a slight curve of his delicious lips, ones I want roaming over my body.
“Now you know something about me,” he murmurs to me.
“Tell us more.”
Cooper looks up at the others who are diligently aligning beads on their jewelry trays yet seeming to be waiting for Cooper to entertain them.
“There are obvious signs, like a person’s eyes. When I first started at Blackard, Dylan would usually squint and look away from me. He was feeling a little threatened by me because he wasn’t sure where I fit in at work and because he thought I was competition … for Emma.”
Dylan rolls his eyes.
“That’s true,” Carson adds.
“If you say so, but I’m not like that now.”
“No, now you just give me the occasional mean, low growl. Mad Dog Dylan,” Cooper responds with a chuckle, the others joining in.
“This is fascinating,” I say. “Really, keep going.”
Cooper shrugs as though he’s suddenly bashful to show himself in this way. “Carson generally likes meeting new people. He arches his eyebrows in interest,” Cooper adds.
“I didn’t have that experience when we met in Archie’s office for the first time,” Jess says, turning to Carson for confirmation.
“That wasn’t our first time,” Carson says defensively. “We met when we were kids. When I saw you in Archie’s office, it was a completely different situation.”
“Yeah, Carson was nervous as hell that day,” Dylan says, laughing.
“I think it worked out fine,” Carson says pointedly to Jess.
“I suppose I got some eyebrow arches after that,” Jess teases.
“But this shows you how important eye contact is to gain someone’s trust,” Cooper continues. “Companies like to have business meetings in person more than video conferences because it’s important to observe the nonverbal behavior of the people involved. We look for universal behaviors, but we also look for idiosyncratic, nonverbal behaviors to see who we’re dealing with.
“How someone places their hands, holds their head, or how they sit or stand tells us plenty about them. If you ever watch Carson in the factory, he stands with his legs positioned fairly far apart and his hands on his hips with his elbows out. His body language tells us he’s open or available to talk to people. He wants his employees to feel comfortable around him and think he’s approachable.”
“You do have a fatherly appeal to the people at work,” Leo agrees.
Carson grunts in embarrassment.
“Dylan is another story,” Cooper says slyly.
“Here we go,” Dylan mutters.
“Dylan is often standing as tall as possible with his arms crossed. It’s intimidating to people who don’t know him, and he uses that to his advantage at sales meetings, I bet.”
“Oh, he does.” Emma laughs.
“And then there’s Imogene, here.” Cooper tilts his head in my direction. “She exhibits behavior similar to Carson’s when she’s among women, but when she’s around men, her nonverbal behavior is more like Dylan’s. It’s a protective, defense measure.”
“I thought her mouth was her defense measure,” Jess cuts in. “Her sarcasm.”
“It is to an extent, but that’s verbal behavior, and I’m still compiling my file on Imogene Walsh.” Cooper grins devilishly at me.
I scoff because I have nothing to say; he’s pretty much nailed us.
Lauren gives me one of her little knowing looks and then stands. “Okay, I need to collect these finished trays and give you new ones, so take a potty break if you need it,” she says to everyone.
“I’m going to get some water. Anyone want anything?” Cooper asks the group, but there are no takers; therefore, he pats my leg under the table and stands to leave.
Lauren uses that moment to nod her head in Cooper’s direction. She looks like an angry ostrich, flinching her head to get me to follow Cooper.
“Hon, is something wrong with your neck? You look like you’re in pain,” Leo says, rubbing the back of her neck.
“Oh, Leo, you’re just missing Lauren’s tells,” I say, bopping an empty felt tray on his head then leaving the room to find Cooper.
“So that was very impressive,” I say, entering the kitchen as Cooper pulls a bottle of water from the fridge.
“Glad I did something to impress you.” He smiles. “I was going to say more, but I didn’t want you to feel like I put you on the spot.”
“About what?” I lean on the counter next to him and cross my arms. Then I look down at my arms across my chest and think about that for a minute. I am like Dylan when I’m around men, defensive.
Cooper chuckles and then nods at my position. “You want to talk to me, but you’re already in combat mode. I didn’t tell them about your eyes, though.”
“What about my eyes? Are they shifty?”
“They’re beautiful.”
A little, happy tremor races through me.
“You do narrow your eyes at men. You’re very skeptical around them, and you used to be that way with me. Now you look at me in a different way. You’re still sarcastic, but your eyes give you away.”
“How so?” I ask quietly. I relax my arms and hook my thumbs into the belt loops of my jeans.
“Your eyes pop wider when you see me. Instead of turning your head or averting your gaze, you stare at me. A lot. It’s nice. Plus, it pretty much confirms what I’ve thought. You have always liked me, but now you’re showing it openly.”
Of course, I’m staring at him now, that handsome face with those cute, professor glasses. I want to ruffle his hair.
Without deliberating any further, I launch myself at him and plant my mouth on his. He grunts in surprise and then approval, managing to kiss me and place the water bottle on the counter at the same time. As he wraps his arms around me, holding me tightly, and hoists me up so our faces are aligned perfectly, I curl my legs around his waist. He pushes his tongue deeper in a hungry, aggressive manner that turns me on even more. I fist my hands in his hair as though I can’t get enough of him, the scruff on his chin grazing my cheek, making me moan.
“Wait,” he growls. “I have to get these things off.” He removes his glasses with one hand, keeping the other on my ass to hold me up. He fumbles for the counter behind him and places his glasses down. Then he grabs my plump rear end with both hands and gives me another hard boost against him. “Kiss me,” he demands.
I grab his face with both hands and ravage his mouth, not caring who may walk in on this spectacle. I feel us moving then realize Cooper is walking us into the pantry off the kitchen. It’s an old-fashioned room with a long, butcher-block counter and tall cupboards where the cook of the house stored dishware and food.
Cooper places me on the counter, keeping himself wedged between my thighs, as I keep kissing him, savoring him. I unbutton the light cotton, sleeveless blouse I’m wearing and undo my bra clasp then push Cooper’s head back so he can see me exposed for him.
His eyes leave my face and travel down to my bountiful assets as I run one hand over a breast, fondling it until the nipple hardens then palming it as an offering.
“Shit, Imogene. Your body is fucking unbelievable,” he says huskily before clamping his hot lips on my nipple. He replaces my hand with his and holds my heavy breast as he sucks and nips at it.
I run my fingers through his hair again, keeping his head firmly in place on my breasts, moaning as tingles shoot through me. That lonely, vacant place between my legs is begging for his rock hard cock. I grind against the bulge in his jeans and moan again as my head falls back against a cupboard.
“Cooper,” I whisper hungrily, “I turn into a cheap slut when I’m around you.”
His hand replaces his mouth on my aching breasts as he works his way up my chest, licking my collarbone then sucking and biting my neck.
“I want to fuck you,” he says as he kisses my nec
k. “But everyone is expecting us upstairs, and we deserve a bed and unlimited time.”
He pulls away and looks at me for a moment. We’re both disheveled, the heated desire overpowering, the kind that makes people commit murder.
My hands snake up under his T-shirt and my fingers trail over his firm, flat stomach and the ridges of his six-pack abs before spreading across hard pectoral muscles. Moving my hands around to his back, I pull him closer so we’re skin against skin. Then we kiss again, slower and deeper, letting our bodies rub against each other, enjoying the friction that we’d like in other places.
A thump and the sound of a flushing toilet above our heads remind us that we’re not alone. Our kiss ends slowly, then I slump back against the cupboard, closing my bra and buttoning my blouse. Cooper pulls his T-shirt down and runs his fingers through his hair so he looks exactly the same as before our tryst.
“I’m not supposed to like you this way,” I say.
“But you do.” He places his hands on my knees and regards me with a serious expression.
“I do,” I say wearily, “but I have to get back to work.”
“I know, and I’m coming with you.” He takes my chin in his hand and looks at me with sheer determination. “I’m still holding you to our bet.”
“The hike? Seriously?”
“Absolutely. I got everyone here today so you could finish your work because, tomorrow, you’re hiking with me, baby. We’ll see what you’ve got.”
“So that’s why you organized this, so I’d have to go hiking with you? And you assume I won’t complete it and will have to go out with you? Why not just call the hike a date and then we’re done?”
“No, the hike isn’t a date. It’s in the woods. A date is where you have to go out in public with me and be seen as my date. Everything you do with me, you hide from others. You don’t want people to know that you have a thing for me, just like this kiss. You keep everything hidden.”