by Melody Anne
“Well, there are certainly some better than others. I used to want to design jewelry,” she admitted.
He didn’t say anything and she was curious enough to glance across the table at him. The interest in his eyes made her glow inside whether she wanted to or not.
“Really? That’s fantastic,” he said. She was shocked by his reaction.
“Most people I’ve ever said that to sort of roll their eyes,” she said with a laugh, like it didn’t really matter.
“Why? You obviously have talent,” he told her.
“How would you know that?” She didn’t share her designs.
“I’ve seen your sketches in the garbage can,” he said with a wink.
She gasped. “You’ve dug through the garbage?”
“I’ve been trying to figure you out. You’re very secretive.”
“It’s just a dream. A silly one.”
“I think we all start with a dream. It’s those who are brave enough to make their dreams realities who change the world.”
She sat there considering his words, and then she smiled. Wouldn’t it be amazing for her dreams to actually come true? Suddenly embarrassed to be the center of attention, she decided to change it back to him.
“I’m sure flying jets is pretty exciting.”
He paused as if knowing exactly what she was doing. But thankfully, he allowed her to get away with it.
“Yes, I’ve loved to fly since I was young. I’d go with my uncle Sherman a lot and I got the bug. My brothers and I all did.”
“You have brothers who fly, too?” she said. “Dang, you must break quite a few hearts.”
“Nah. We don’t have a lot of time for women, not more than a night. There’s a difference between being in a committed relationship and having a woman for a night. You either choose to fly or you choose a life,” he said.
“There are lots of pilots with families,” she told him.
“Yeah, and there’s a lot of cheating pilots, too,” he said. “I wouldn’t ever want to live that way.”
“You don’t have to cheat if you don’t want to,” she scolded him.
“I wasn’t saying I wouldn’t not be able to cheat,” he told her, setting down his fork. “I’m just saying I’ve seen a lot who do. I’ve never had a desire to commit myself.”
“Sounds like a lot of guys I know,” she grumbled.
There was a moment of silence between them and then he laughed, surprising her again.
“How many men have you been with, Stormy?”
The question made her choke on the bite of potatoes. After a moment, she was able to get them down and then took a nice long swallow of wine.
“That’s really none of your business,” she finally said.
“Why not? I think we would be great together,” he said, leaning a little closer to her. “Imagine the two of us on a nice firm bed . . . or a really hot shower . . .”
He trailed off and then went back to eating as if he hadn’t just turned her knees to jelly. She looked at her plate as she tried to figure out if he was messing with her. The chances were that no, he wasn’t. Showers and beds were obviously his MO. Crap. Staying with this man wasn’t going to be an easy thing to do.
“When is the cottage going to be ready?” she asked, her appetite gone.
“Oh, I don’t know, a week, a few weeks. You know how repair men are,” he told her. “Is the bedroom you’re in not comfortable?”
“Oh no, of course not. It’s beautiful and more than I could have imagined. I just don’t want to be invading your space for too long,” she hurriedly said.
“Don’t worry about me. I’m enjoying the company.”
She wanted to run fast and far away. Before she could excuse herself without seeming rude, though, his gaze zeroed in on her again.
“Why don’t you tell me about yourself, Stormy? I know nothing,” he said, leaning back, but not letting her escape those fantastic green eyes.
“There’s really nothing to tell. I’ve led an uneventful life,” she lied.
His eyes narrowed the tiniest bit for a moment before the expression disappeared.
“I don’t believe that. I bet you’ve had an exciting life, traveled to exotic places, and sought out adventure,” he countered.
“Nope. Really, nothing like that,” she said, swallowing the lump in her throat. “Why don’t you tell me what it’s like to be a pilot?”
If she could turn the attention away from herself then she would be much better off here. He stared at her for several heartbeats, and then he must have decided to let her off the hook.
“I flew as a hobby from the time I was young. I never dreamed of making it a career, but when it came time to decide what I was going to do the rest of my life, the only thing I could think about was airplanes. So here I am,” he said with a shrug.
“There’s got to be more. How does it make you feel knowing you are responsible for so many lives?” she questioned, not realizing that she’d leaned toward him.
“When I first got my stripes and was a copilot on Alaska Airlines I would walk through the airport and kids would stop me, asking for autographs, their eyes filled with wonder. It took me back to the days when I was a young boy so enamored with pilots.”
“Yeah, I was pretty in awe of pilots myself when I traveled,” she admitted, forgetting she didn’t want to share information with him.
“Are you still enamored with them?” he asked with a wink.
Stormy found herself blushing again. It was ridiculous. It was just a comment that shouldn’t have mattered at all. She’d been flirted with before. But it wasn’t normally by men whom she had slept with or whom she still wanted to have sex with.
Dang it! No, she didn’t want to have sex with the man. Once had been enough.
“I think I’m over my fascination,” she finally said.
“That’s too bad,” he said with a pout that made her laugh.
“Let me do the cleanup since you made dinner,” she said as she stood. This dinner was getting to be too dang intimate for her.
“I insist on helping you.” He stood up, and together they cleared the table and began doing dishes.
When they were finished, the grandfather clock chimed the late hour. Cooper yawned and leaned back against the counter.
“It’s getting late,” she said as she realized the time. It was unnerving how easily they had slipped into a happy domestic rhythm.
“I guess we should go to bed then,” Cooper said, and the look he sent her told Stormy he wouldn’t mind it being the same bed.
As much as she didn’t want to be tempted by that, she couldn’t help that she was.
“Yes, it’s time for bed,” she said quietly. “Good night, Cooper. Thank you for a perfect dinner and an even better conversation. And thanks for the room.”
She turned away, not wanting to add anything else. She was at the bottom of the stairs when he grabbed her arm and stopped her.
Without a word he tugged her toward him, grabbing her hips and pulling her against the hardness in his slacks so she had no doubt he was turned on. Then he kissed her, making her knees shake as his hands tugged on her hair.
She moaned into his mouth, unable to stop her reaction to this man who had been touching her all night, who was on her mind nonstop. When he lifted her leg and pressed even more tightly against her, she felt an ache she hadn’t felt for six long years.
This man did this to her, made her into a wanton woman, made her want to forget about anything and everything except for him and the pleasure he could and surely would bring to her.
She was almost ready to beg for more when he released her. His eyes were dark as he gazed at her.
“Anything you feel like telling me?” he asked, his fingers tracing her lower back.
She was stunned into silence for several tense moments.
“No . . . ,” she finally answered on a shaky breath.
His eyes narrowed for a moment before he released her. She ha
d to grip the rail and pray she could remain upright.
“Good night, Stormy. Sleep well.” His tone of voice told her the opposite.
“Good night,” Stormy finally replied, and then she continued walking up the stairs.
Sleep was going to be very difficult if she was able to get any at all.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Her breath coming in and out in pants, Stormy pushed herself harder and faster as she ran on the treadmill while watching the sun flash on the waves as they lapped against the shore. The view was perfect in Cooper’s state-of-the-art home gym.
Her eyes narrowed as she looked over at the cottage, where no one was working. How was it going to be repaired if the workmen weren’t there doing anything? She decided to ask Sherman about it as soon as possible.
A runner she wasn’t, but the energy zinging through her body had called for an outlet, so she’d been in the gym for the past hour, and though her muscles were screaming, her mind still wasn’t letting go of thoughts of Cooper and that kiss they’d shared two nights before.
Finally she couldn’t take it anymore, and she stopped the machine, her knees nearly buckling as she got off. Water! She needed water. Carefully she ascended the basement stairs and walked to the kitchen.
Before she reached the fridge, she noticed a note with her name on it. Her thirst temporarily forgotten, she slowly moved toward it and picked it up as if the paper would give her an electric shock or something.
I think you do have some things to tell me. I’ll be gone a few days, but I want you to know that I’m anticipating my return.
Cooper
Leaning against the counter, she read the note three times through. What did he mean that he was anticipating his return? What did he mean that she had things to tell him? Did he know? He couldn’t know. Her heart thudded harder than it had on the damn treadmill as she read the note yet another time.
Finally, she set it down and got her drink, then sat there at the counter with every worst-case scenario filtering through her brain.
She wanted to smack herself as the day progressed.
Just because she’d had a couple of spectacular kisses with Cooper, and he’d left her a note she was obsessing about, didn’t necessarily mean something.
What Stormy needed to do was focus on herself. After living in this perfect little sea town, and talking to Cooper about dreams she’d forgotten about, she was thinking that maybe she’d give her hopes a chance.
The worst that could happen was she would be terrible at it. But what if she was good? The necklace she’d lost so many years before she’d designed in high school, and her teacher had said she had a real eye for art, a true talent.
Instead of focusing on a man, shouldn’t she focus on herself? He was going to be gone for a few days. By the time he got back, maybe she would be more in control of herself.
So for the next two days, Stormy made sure she wiped away any thoughts of Cooper.
With the house all to herself, Stormy couldn’t help but smile. The cottage was taking forever, but soon she’d even have her own space. However, after living in Coop’s giant mansion, she wondered if she’d feel cramped in the cottage even though it wasn’t actually that small.
Of course, she was so used to the constricted confines of apartment living—the sounds of television sitcoms through thin walls, the anger of domestic disputes, and the young couple upstairs making their nightly session as obvious as possible—that the cottage would be paradise in comparison.
But here at Coop’s private property, all that could be heard was the sound of the fountain in the front yard, the splash of waves on the beach, the occasional toll of harbor buoys, the wind through the trees, and the periodic cry of gulls sailing above.
Cooper was halfway across the Pacific Ocean, she thought with a smile.
She needed to take advantage of the situation instead of holing herself away in her room when she wasn’t working.
Stormy wasn’t going to waste any opportunities, so she made the executive decision: sweet white wine and a skinny-dip in the hot tub. Soon she would forget all about the days of freezing in her apartment while huddled beneath her covers. Tonight she would feel like the rich and famous. She would even drink from crystal.
Smiling with selfish delight, she sprinted up the stairs to her room where she quickly slipped into a silk bathrobe, then closed her bedroom door behind her as she headed back downstairs.
She rummaged through the kitchen for a proper glass. “Now we’re in business,” she said aloud as she pulled a chilled bottle of wine from the cooler. She hoped he wasn’t saving the bottle for a special occasion. She couldn’t help but giggle guiltily as she dug through the drawer for the bottle opener.
“Ah, there you are,” she murmured, pulling it from the drawer and placing it on the cork.
The bottle open, she poured a glass, spilling some on the floor. She’d get that later. Pulling fresh strawberries from the fridge, she quickly moved to the French doors and opened them, the cool air making her breath instantly fog up.
Walking through the doors, Stormy flipped the porch light switch, but nothing happened. Thinking by some chance the first time was a fluke, she flipped the switch on and off once more; still nothing. She didn’t let it stop her. The moonlit deck was a more relaxed setting anyway.
Moving quickly to the far side of the deck, she made quick work of pulling off the hot tub cover and setting the temperature to something that seemed just under scalding, then she turned on the jets.
The steam from the hot tub plumed into the cool air as a slight hint of chlorine filled her nostrils. Casting off her robe, then perching her strawberries and champagne on the tub’s ledge, she stepped into the bubbling water.
Midway in, she stopped for a moment, her hands across her chest as she glanced around, double-checking that she was truly alone. Electing to sit in the darkness, she left the hot tub’s lights off, then slipped completely below the surface, submerging even her head with a handful of strawberries inadvertently following her.
Her stress evaporated as quickly as the steam from the hot water, and Stormy knew the days ahead would only get better.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Cooper grumbled as he drove down the road. A frustrating woman, cancelled flights, and sick flight crews were making him want to take that time off his uncle Sherman had suggested.
After pulling into the driveway and whipping into his garage, Cooper walked into the house, instantly disappointed by the darkness. Looking at the clock, he realized it was just a quarter past ten. Stormy had to be in her room reading or something because she didn’t normally go to sleep so early.
“Stormy, I’m home,” he called while loosening his necktie. He was more than ready for their talk. He walked up the stairs while unbuttoning his top. Then he stood in front of her door for a moment. It was closed with no light shining from beneath it.
Frustrated, Cooper walked into his bedroom, slipped off his shoes, he kicked them away, then removed his name bar and pilot wings, and set them on the top of his dresser. If he couldn’t talk to the dang woman, then he may as well take a hot shower and get food other than airline garbage.
It didn’t take long to shower, and then Cooper wrapped a towel around his hips and made his way back down the stairs, swinging into the kitchen for a beer and crackers.
Before he knew what was happening, his feet slipped out from beneath him and he found himself flailing while trying to stay upright. He failed. His fall was painful and the sound of bare skin smacking against granite tile echoed through the kitchen.
“What the hell . . .?” Cooper groaned as he sat up, noticing the puddle that had caused this wreck.
Eventually he placed his hands beneath himself, pushing up off the floor and back onto his feet, with his pride wounded and his back aching. “This is obviously what I get for allowing a damn housemate,” he grumbled.
A shudder passed through him, and that’s when he noticed the cool air dr
ifting across his skin. Slowly, he walked around the corner of his large kitchen island, taking care not to slip again on the slick floor, and then he stopped when he saw the French doors slightly ajar.
What the hell? His irritation was growing by the minute. When he stepped up to the door and heard the sound of bubbling water and the hum of the hot tub, he growled low in his throat.
Just as quickly as the irritation had grown, it quickly dissipated. Because if the door was open and the tub running, then that meant she was out there. Maybe his night was looking up after all.
With a smile in place where a scowl had been moments before, Cooper stepped onto the deck, moving with purpose toward the tub he could barely see. It was cold out, but that wasn’t a bad thing, considering he wore nothing beneath the towel tucked in at his hips.
Suddenly, though, as he reached the tub and was about to call out to her, the figure in the water shifted, rising from the steam. He was nearly knocked over when she jumped from the hot water and sped past him toward the back door.
What if that hadn’t been Stormy? He hadn’t gotten a good look at the person.
“Stormy. If it’s you, answer now,” he called. There was no answer.
Cooper dashed after the person, exploding into the kitchen and quickly glancing across the room.
The person went down hard where Cooper had fallen not that long ago. The body slid across the floor as if diving for home plate.
Cooper moved forward, and then once again lost his footing on the wet floor, not counting on the added water his escape artist had left behind. Falling forward, he tried to catch himself, but it was no use.
Sliding across the floor, he tumbled into the hot tub bandit, both of them now rolling around in wine and chlorine-scented water.
Cooper froze again, but this time it wasn’t from his need to fight. This time, it was because he had no doubt whom he’d just captured—and somewhere in their tumble his towel had fallen away.
There was no way he could hide the evidence of how he felt about this woman, not when there wasn’t a single stich of clothing between them.