“I’m plenty comfortable with my masculinity.” He pulled two goblets off the shelf above him. “Besides, I always like to have wine whenever I listen to Marvin Gaye.”
At the mention of the singer who was filling the room with lyrics about getting it on, her cheeks warmed. Damn. She hadn’t meant to go that far in setting the mood.
While balancing the wine and salad items she’d just pulled from the fridge in one arm, she lunged for the dial, spinning it until it landed on the next available station. “I promise that just so happened to be on the radio. I’m not trying to seduce... I mean, I didn’t put that on to make you...”
“Hey.” He reached out and stroked her shoulder, sending a shiver of heat through her core. “I know you’re not trying to set the mood or stage some grand seduction, especially with your son in the house. It’s just an impromptu fish fry and a couple of mature adults cooking in the kitchen.”
She nodded, even though she was cooking, all right. And she had the heated body parts to prove it. Maybe she should put out some chips and salsa. Of course, if she did that, she’d probably scarf down the whole bowl in an attempt to calm her nerves.
The bathroom door clicked open and Hunter’s footsteps padded to his room, reminding her that there wasn’t anything inappropriate going on. At least, not tonight.
“Besides.” Cooper lowered his voice as he reached to take the bottle from her tense fingers. “You already had me seduced a long time ago, and it didn’t take any music or wine on your part.”
Her pulse sped out of control and her arms turned into noodles. Thankfully, he reached for the corkscrew and didn’t see her nearly lose her grip on the spinach and cucumber.
Was he saying that she’d unwittingly seduced him? As if he’d been hanging around town for the past weeks, thinking about her the exact way she’d been thinking about him?
She needed to sit on one of the kitchen stools and catch her breath—or at least regain use of her weak limbs. But she didn’t dare let him know how unbalanced she was. So she shook off the effects of his gaze, of his words, of her pulsing hormones.
She’d no more than placed the rest of the needed ingredients on the counter when Hunter came out of his room wearing his Boise State pajama pants, which were way too short.
When had he outgrown them?
“I found that Hobbit movie I was telling you about, Coop. We can watch it after dinner. Hey, why are you guys listening to polka music?”
Maxine blushed again when she recognized the strains of an accordion coming out of the small speaker under the kitchen cabinet. Cooper must think she was a complete basket case, acting like an awkward adolescent with her first schoolgirl crush.
Hunter turned on the television and Maxine glanced back at the man in her kitchen. His hands kept slipping on the bottle, and he was obviously struggling to get the cork out. It was a relief to see that he was equally affected by their growing attraction. She was also relieved that he was proving to be inexperienced in the art of wooing women with a fine California chardonnay.
The two of them really needed to get it together. Geez, even a couple of fifth graders like Hunter and Kayla Patrelli could maintain some sense of suave sophistication around each other. Maybe they needed a pinball machine in here to break the ice.
Cooper finally opened the wine and poured them each a glass, then they settled into a silent partnership in the kitchen. She battered the fish and got it started in a pan, while he stood beside her at the stove, dropping cornmeal batter into hot oil. As they utilized the side-by-side burners, they continued to bump into each other—although she wasn’t sure it was always done inadvertently.
A bead of perspiration trickled between her shoulder blades. If her arm grazed against his one more time, she’d be jumping out of the frying pan and straight into the fire.
“If you’ll keep an eye on the trout,” she said, unable to take the heat in the kitchen, “I’ll start working on a salad.”
“What am I watching for?” He looked her up and down, and she had a feeling he wasn’t talking about the fish.
She took a drink of wine and opened the fridge again before answering him. “When the edges start turning brown, just flip it.”
She took an inordinately long amount of time looking for more fresh produce that she kept well organized in the crisper drawer. But the open refrigerator provided a cold breeze, and she needed all the cooling off she could get.
How in the world was she going to control herself until date night Friday?
She finished chopping the salad just as the handsome man in her kitchen pulled the fish and hush puppies off the stove and arranged them on a white serving platter.
“Hey, Hunter,” Cooper called into the open living room as he started mixing what looked to be homemade tartar sauce. “You want to get the table ready for dinner?”
Suddenly, the moment felt a little too real—as if they were an actual family having a normal Sunday dinner. Her hands trembled as she whisked the homemade salad dressing.
She couldn’t afford to let him get so entwined in their lives, and she’d sworn to keep him at a distance. But, considering how close he and Hunter were, it was already too late. He’d been in town almost a month and already people were beginning to talk a lot about Cooper applying for the chief of police job. A part of her liked the idea of having him around permanently, but she suspected he was just doing it to appease Hunter and Cessy.
Last Monday, when Maxine had met Mia at the diner, Freckles mentioned how much the locals liked the former marine and how they were starting to think of him as one of their own. She could almost imagine him settling into Sugar Falls despite the fact that he was a city boy and the town’s total population was less than the number of pieces in her son’s Death Star Lego set.
But then she’d overheard Mayor Cliff Johnston telling the Kiwanis members that Cooper was way overqualified to be a police officer in a place like Sugar Falls and that they had better consider some of the other applicants.
Maxine always knew that Cooper’s time here would only be short-term. And when things had gotten physical between them two days ago, she convinced herself that dating the man wouldn’t be a big deal since he was only passing through. A relationship between them didn’t have to be anything serious. But she wouldn’t overthink things tonight. Instead she’d enjoy his company and the meal.
Hunter kept the conversation going through dinner, telling stories of the fishing trip, and then launching into a series of “remember whens” about his and Cooper’s adventures these past weeks. When had Cooper become such an integral part of her son’s memory bank?
The guys laughed all through dinner and while they did the dishes afterward. Maxine smiled at the appropriate times, but as they all piled onto the sofa for the after-dinner movie, she couldn’t concentrate on wizards, or golden rings or any of the inhabitants of Middle Earth.
All she could think about was how things between her and Cooper had blown way past the serious line and straight into the “Danger: Do Not Enter” zone.
So then why was she blatantly throwing caution to the wind and charging full steam ahead?
* * *
Cooper had been running with Maxine every morning this week. Since Hunter was out of school for spring break, she wasn’t going as far as she normally did, and he hadn’t felt right about trying to keep her away any longer than necessary by sidetracking her or otherwise waylaying her back to his cabin. So he’d struggled and panted and matched her strides a little more every day, biding his time until tonight—when Hunter had his sleepover, and hopefully, Cooper had his.
Date, he reminded himself. It was just a date. But if a sleepover happened, so be it.
Several more hours.
Already his mood had lightened, and the fact that he was now up to three miles was an added bonus.
“It’s not a sprint,” Maxine said, as they neared his driveway. “You need to pace yourself.”
“Yeah, you’ve said that about eight times this morning, Coach.” Cooper’s response lacked its usual gruffness, probably because he was too winded to bluster.
“And I’ll probably keep saying it until you stop being such a macho he-man who won’t listen to what’s best for him.”
She was a bossy little thing. And she was fast. But he didn’t mind because running next to her while she wore her sexy skintight running gear was all the incentive he needed to get his knee back to where it needed to be.
“Stretch,” she commanded, as she jogged in place, preparing to leave him at their designated meeting spot before she continued down the mountain and back to her regular life.
She’d been friendly and helpful when it came to exercising and training, but the closer it got to tonight, the more she seemed to avoid making eye contact with him. Was she getting shy or having second thoughts about having dinner alone with him? She didn’t really seem like the nervous type once she made up her mind about something. But then again, maybe she hadn’t made up her mind.
Neither one of them had brought up their date tonight, but Cooper didn’t think he could stay away from her much longer. He was also tired of the emotional distance she maintained between them whenever Hunter was around—or when they were in town at the same time.
He put his right leg back, lunging to stretch out his muscles, and considered the best way to confirm their plans without sounding like an anxious teenager on prom night.
Man, what was wrong with him? He was a trained investigator who suddenly couldn’t even ask a woman a simple question.
But what was he supposed to say? He finally blurted, “I bought a suit and I’m supposed to be able to pick it up this weekend. I was thinking we could go to Boise for dinner tonight if you didn’t want to come here.”
She stopped jogging in place and wrapped her arms around her bare midriff, looking right and left at any cars that might be making their way up the mountain road. Was she worried someone would overhear them way out here in the boonies?
“Sorry,” he said. “I meant for that question to come out a lot smoother than it did.”
“I know. I wasn’t sure if we were still...uh... That is, if you wanted me...” She glanced up and down the road again, and he smiled, relieved that she seemed just as nervous as he was.
“I definitely still want you...for, uh, dinner. To eat dinner. With me.”
She lifted her face to his. He was about to give her a preview of his plans for tonight when a delivery truck chugged past them, followed by a cavalcade of weekender cars presumably making their way to the Snow Creek Lodge, which had converted from ski season to whitewater rafting season.
She backed away quickly and began her jogging in place thing again, the epitome of discretion. “I don’t drop Hunter off until six, so that might be a little late to head down the mountain. We can just stay here if you want. Should I bring anything?”
“Just yourself.” He smiled as a motor home loaded down with bikes and a canoe lumbered by. “So I’ll see you after six?
She nodded, then took off running back down the mountain as though she didn’t want to talk about it anymore.
She might be skittish about what would unfold tonight, but at least he didn’t have to worry that she wouldn’t show.
Now all he had to do was figure out what to do with himself until she did.
* * *
Cooper had just lit the fire and turned the burner off on the stove when he heard a knock.
This is it.
He wiped his palms on his jeans and took one last look around the cabin, wondering if he’d gone overboard in setting the mood—lighting a fire, setting the table for two....
He opened the door and, although he’d been preparing all day for Maxine to show up, he still had to catch his breath when he saw her standing on his porch. She was wearing those low-waist jeans he loved and a new white top that barely reached the top of the denim.
“Hi,” she said, shifting from one booted foot to the other.
“Come in.” He waved her inside, then kicked himself for neglecting to put on any music or to light the candles he’d found in one of the drawers. “I was about to open some wine.”
He gestured to the kitchen, but faltered when she was slow to follow. Did he sound like he was making a romantic sales pitch? He might as well have worn a shirt that read, “Please be so impressed with my hosting skills that you’ll sleep with me.”
“Dinner smells great,” she said, placing her purse on a chair.
“Thanks. I’ve never really done much cooking since I’ve always lived on base and ate most of my meals at the chow hall. I was going to just pick something up, but I didn’t want to place an order for two while I was in town and get the gossip mill rolling.”
“Thank you for that.”
He could be as discreet as any cop, but he was a proud man and wanted to believe that she thought he was good enough for her and wouldn’t be embarrassed for people to know they were dating. If that wasn’t the case, then she shouldn’t be here in the first place.
While he hated the thought of her calling his bluff and leaving, especially for that reason, he shook off the negativity and squared his shoulders. “Anyway, I went to Duncan’s Market to pick up something for dinner. I was going to get a roasted chicken, but they said they only sell those on Sunday.” When she wrinkled her nose, he hoped it wasn’t because she hated poultry. “So I had to figure out something easy to make.”
“You did this yourself?” She lifted her eyebrow and headed to the stove.
“I tried. I’m not making any promises.”
She picked up one of the pan lids. “What is it? Chicken and artichokes?”
“Yes, with a side of orzo. I was looking for a one-pan type of recipe that someone with my limited culinary skills couldn’t mess up too badly.”
“It looks delicious.” She smiled as she replaced the lid. “And I’m flattered that you went to so much trouble. We might domesticate you yet, soldier.”
Lord, he hoped so, because he was starting to enjoy being in the kitchen with this woman, although he knew better than to get too comfortable.
But damn, that was hard to do.
“Don’t give me too much credit. Besides the hush puppies at your house, I can’t remember the last time I cooked for a woman.”
That wasn’t the truth. He remembered exactly when he’d last cooked for a woman. And that was never.
“Well, I’ve never had a man cook for me. So it won’t take much to impress me.”
“Do most of your dates wine and dine you, then?” he said as he poured her a glass of chardonnay.
“Honestly, I haven’t really dated since Bo died.” She took the glass and looked back toward the table. “Do you have any chips or anything?”
“No, I’m still a novice at entertaining. I didn’t even think about appetizers. Are you starving?”
“No, just nervous. Sometimes snacking helps calm me down.”
“Why would you be nervous?” What a stupid question, given that his own anxiety level was about to make the shift from code orange to code red.
“I haven’t been on a date since college. This is all so crazy. I’ve never done anything like this before. I don’t even know how we go about everything. Ugh, I suck at this.”
He couldn’t help the smile that lifted the corners of his mouth. He was glad she sucked at this. In an effort to switch topics, he said, “I like your hair.”
And he did. Her blond curls were loose around her shoulders, which made her seem more relaxed—as if she wasn’t trying to keep her wild side locked up by some tight rubber band on top of her head. “That makes one of us.” She ran her fingers throug
h the strands, as if trying to tame their liveliness. It was, he realized, a nervous habit, and he reached out to stop her.
“Leave it. Please.” He lifted her hand to his mouth, kissing first her fingertips, then her palm.
All the while, he studied her eyes, watched her gaze darken before she lowered her lashes.
He drew her arm up to his shoulder, pulling her in close before placing her hand on the back of his own neck. Her other arm followed suit, and at the same time, her lips parted, providing all the encouragement he needed.
He captured her mouth with his, and heat immediately consumed him. The desire had been building between both of them for so long that last Friday in her kitchen was only a crack in the dam they’d been trying to hold back.
But now, neither one seemed to care that the walls and barriers they’d built to keep their feelings locked up were fighting a losing battle. She pressed up against his body, and he grabbed on to her backside to hold her right where he wanted her. She was so responsive and eager he didn’t think she could wait any longer than he could.
Not wanting to be a bad host—or to let her think he’d lost all control—he broke the kiss long enough to ask, “Are you hungry?”
Her only response was to shake her head before pulling his mouth back down to hers, the floodgates busted wide open.
He picked her up, and she wrapped her legs around his waist. But this time, instead of setting her on the kitchen counter, he walked her straight back to his bedroom. After all, a good host would give her just what she was craving.
He stopped near the bedside table and slowly released her, letting her slide down the length of his body. He’d thought about asking her permission to take her to the bedroom, but it wasn’t as if he’d brought her in here kicking and screaming. More like clinging and moaning. She was a grown woman and seemed to know exactly what she wanted.
And judging by the way she peeled his T-shirt over his head, she wanted him, even if her fingers trembled after she dropped the soft cotton on the floor.
A Marine for His Mom (Sugar Falls, Idaho) Page 16