Do Not Disturb (19 page)

“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 instinct, 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 he 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.

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.

She wasn't afraid of anything and it was time he figured that out. The bogeyman had stepped out of her nightmares and into her waking world twenty years ago. She'd dealt then. She'd deal now.

Then, as if thinking of a monster had called one up, a shadow fell across Angel. It took a mere instant to recognize the long, muscled legs of Cooper Jones. As that instant ended, she shut her eyes and pretended to be asleep.

When he shook her shoulder, she lifted her lashes, but when he began to mouth something, she hastily closed them again. Sure, it was an avoidance tactic, maybe even childish, but she was in the mortifying position—as a reporter and as a woman—of not knowing what to say to the man.

None of the zillions of magazine articles she'd read over the years had ever explained why gratifying, satisfying sex could leave a woman feeling so weak. Like a sissy. Not a one had hinted what to do about it.

Or, for that matter, what to do about a man who ignored her ignoring of him and plopped down on the blanket beside her. Before she had a chance to scuttle away, he grabbed her wrist. Before she had a chance to pull free, he tightened his grip on her fingers and wrote on the back of her hand.

She let herself go limp, as if truly asleep. His lean fingers were steady, though, his clasp strong, and it reminded her of his implacable touches in that hot, candlelit darkness. The gentle trace of a pen against her skin felt like the tickle of a tongue.

His tongue.

A shiver rolled through even as the tickle, the clasp, the man disappeared.

She wouldn't look at what he wrote, that's what she decided. She'd wash it off, wash away whatever he might have had to say.

But back in her cottage no amount of soap and water could erase the words. Cooper had marked her—indelibly.

The back of her hand read:
Be at Lainey's, 4:00 pm. If you're sleeping, I'll do what I must to wake you up.

 

Though she'd considered refusing Cooper's order/ invitation, it was her inherent curiosity and a need for distraction from the breathless heat that had Angel knocking on Lainey's door at 4:02. The day had started off a scorcher, and now the Santa Lucia Mountains were radiating the afternoon sun like the face of a gigantic iron.

When Lainey answered, her welcoming smile flipped almost instantly to a frown. “You're dressed wrong.”

Angel glanced at her sleeveless cotton top and the long gauzy skirt she wore with it. “I, uh…”

“Brothers.” Lainey shook her head. “Cooper forgot to tell you to bring your swimsuit, I'll bet.”

Since she was empty-handed, Angel could only nod.

“Cooper, Beth, and Judd were invited too, and I thought we all might like a swim before dinner,” Lainey went on. “Don't worry, we have suits to spare.”

Swim? Dinner? Even though some lovely, chilly air was beckoning her into the Whitney house, Angel hes
itated. She'd quieted her journalist's conscience about going to bed with Cooper by deciding her Stephen Whitney story would be as banal and blameless as his reputation. But she was still here for a job. A job that didn't include more intimacy with Cooper or getting social with the rest of the family.

It was tempting, though. They might let down their guard and she might finally find out something interesting.

On the other hand, they might let down their guard and she might finally find out something interesting. What would she do then?

Stalling for time, Angel shrugged. “Uh, Lainey, Cooper didn't actually mention…”

She rolled her eyes. “He didn't tell you about dinner either?”

“No.”

Lainey reached out, snagged Angel's arm, and pulled her over the threshold. “Well, you're invited. Judd is barbecuing vegetable kabobs, but I also roasted a couple of chickens this morning. They've been cooling in the refrigerator.”

Chicken.
Meat
. Sighing in surrender, Angel allowed herself to be led through the house toward the patio doors that opened onto the pool area. Oh, she
was
weak. Who would have guessed that after mere days of mainly vegetarian fare, her conscience could be compromised by something as simple as a cold drumstick?

“Hey, everybody, look who's here!” Lainey called out to the people on the patio.

Katie, Judd, and Beth looked over. Beth's eyes widened and she took a hasty step back, even though
Angel was yards away. “I thought you said this was going to be a family meal,” she murmured, loud enough for Angel to hear.

“Right. Family.” Lainey sent her sister a pointed look. “Think, Beth. Remember the cove.” Then she turned to Angel. “Cooper will be here any minute.”

Impressions and questions rolled through Angel's mind. As usual, Beth was strangely anxious around her. Why had she consistently refused to be interviewed? And then there was Lainey's “Remember the cove.” What was the meaning of the cryptic comment?

Before Angel could bring some order to her thoughts, she was ushered into the poolhouse and left alone with a selection of swimsuits. Her head was still processing all the new data when she stepped out again, wearing a modest one-piece, her skirt now acting as a cover-up. Though she wouldn't take a swim per se, sitting on the edge and dangling her legs in the water sounded pleasant.

As promised, Cooper had arrived, and he'd already been cooling off in the water. The pool was a strange, almost V shape, with two symmetrical arms that met at a bottom point, then widely jutted away from each other. Each arm had its own diving board, and now Cooper stood poised on the edge of one, Katie on the other.

Though she knew it was safer to keep her distance, Angel approached the pool's edge, unwillingly drawn toward Cooper. There was that too-long hair, those broad shoulders and lean torso, the muscled legs in cobalt-blue, knee-length swim trunks. The scar bisecting his chest stood out, shining pinkish in the golden
darkness of his tanned skin. He said something to Katie, and then the two of them bounced high on the boards and executed identical flips into the water.

Cool drops splashed against the gauze of Angel's skirt. In the next second a wet hand knifed out of the water and grabbed her ankle.

She yelped, but there was no place to go when trapped by the strong, wet vise of Cooper's grip. His head rose out of the water and he shook it, raining more drops on her calves and thighs. It was cooler, here by the pool, but there was something hot in his eyes.

“You made it,” he said. “Too bad for me.”

He'd promised to wake her if he had to. He'd been teasing, of course, but as they continued to look at each other, his gaze heated and his hand flexed against her bare ankle. Goosebumps crawled up the insides of her legs.

The look in his eyes was so very, very male. And it was so hot that she felt herself warming up. Oh please, she couldn't be developing a soft spot—and if she was, it was minuscule, shallow!—for this kind of he-man, caveman stuff.

Lifting an eyebrow, she refused to let him see he rattled her. Melted her. “How could I refuse such an…unforgettable invitation?” She held out her hand so he could see the words still branding her skin.

He grinned.

She nearly risked her life and leaped into his arms.

Maybe he saw the impulse on her face. “Come in for a swim?” he asked.

No. Oh no. She shook her head.

After a moment, he released her with a shrug, then ducked back into the water to stroke toward his niece. For a few moments she watched him try to engage the young girl, flattening his hand against the water to splash her.

Katie's eyes lit for an instant and she almost surrendered to the simple fun, but then her expression closed down and she swam away, her movements efficient and graceful. Angel wondered who had taught the girl to swim. Had it been Stephen? Cooper?

Whose strong arms had held her, whose deep voice had soothed her fears? A sudden image of Cooper, of his arms not around Katie, but around Angel, his voice warm in her ear, sent her spinning abruptly toward the kitchen and Lainey.

Maybe she should make some excuse. Claim a headache, anything, in order to leave.

But Beth and Judd were in the kitchen too, assembling a fruit salad, and once more Angel caught that strange vibe from Lainey's twin. Curiosity piqued once more, instead of excusing herself from the dinner, Angel offered to help.

She saw Beth dart her a nervous glance, but then the other woman started to chatter about the details of the art show as if to give Angel no room for questions.

From what Beth said, Angel gathered that two exhibition tents would be erected on the large lawn beside the retreat's common building—one for the paintings and one for refreshments. Thanks to the hospitality of the Benedictine monks, the retreatants would spend the day at the monastery so their quiet wouldn't be dis
turbed. Because there wasn't enough parking, buses were scheduled to ferry the guests from a central location in Carmel.

“How many people do you expect to attend?” Angel asked, fishing for a chunk of zucchini from a bowl of marinade. She'd been given the task of threading marinated vegetable pieces onto skewers.

Beth darted a glance at her. “Since Lainey insisted we keep to the original date, only about one hundred fifty. We usually have twice that number, but on such short notice…”

Lainey shrugged off the disapproval in her sister's voice. “We always have the exhibit on September thirtieth,” she said. “One hundred fifty on that date is better than three hundred on some other.”

“It's a special day?” Angel asked.

“It's the day Stephen arrived in the Sur.”

Angel's hand slipped on the mushroom she'd just retrieved, nearly stabbing herself with the skewer. “From San Francisco?”

“Mm-hmm.” Lainey loaded paper plates onto a tray and headed toward the pool again. “I think of it as the day that life, as I knew it, changed forever.”

It was the day Angel's had changed forever too. The day her father had left her mother.

Turning away from Lainey, her eye caught a strange expression on Beth's face. Again, Angel's reporter's antennae quivered.

But the other woman's must have been working overtime too, because she darted a glance at Angel, then rushed to her sister and pulled the tray out of her
hands. “I'll take that. You finish up in here.” Beth hurried onto the patio, Judd right behind her.

Through the glass doors, Lainey looked after her sister for a long, silent moment. “I still can't believe what's happened to us,” she finally said. “How life has changed again, in just one instant.”

There were tears in her voice and suddenly Angel wanted nothing more than to escape the kitchen too. She ducked her head, hurriedly skewering. “I'm sure it takes time to fully understand what's happened.”

“Oh, I understand.” Lainey stayed frozen by the patio doors. “I understand how short life is now. That's why I rescheduled the art show right away. There's no time to waste, Angel. Do you see?”

She focused even harder on the skewer in her hand. “Sure.”

“And love,” Lainey continued. “Love is a miracle, when you think about it. You find a man who you're willing to throw open your heart to. You shouldn't waste that either.”

“Uh-hmm,” Angel murmured. As if she'd let any man into her heart. Sorry, but she was keeping that half of the human species where she could keep her eye on them.

Lainey put her hand on the patio door handle, then hesitated. “Listen to me, Angel. Don't let Cooper get away.”

She had the door shut behind her before Angel could lift her jaw from the floor. Oh my God.

Oh. My. God.

The reason she'd been invited to this “family” dinner was suddenly clear. Lainey was matchmaking.

As she finished constructing the final kabobs, Angel decided to draw Cooper aside at the very first opportunity and explain things to him. It was his sister, after all, his newly widowed sister, so it was up to him to make sure she didn't suffer another disappointment. He'd have to tell her there was nothing between them, and no hope that there ever would be.

But when Angel brought the tray of skewers outside, she couldn't get to Cooper right away because Katie attached herself to her side. Angel swallowed, unsure what the girl wanted, but sure the kid made her strangely uneasy.

“Uh, hi,” she said.

Katie nodded. In the bright sunlight, she smelled faintly of chlorine. Her hair was slicked back in a wet French braid, and Angel saw a sprinkling of cinnamon freckles across the bridge of the teenager's nose.

Angel rubbed her own nose, where gold freckles lay in an identical pattern, and fumbled for words. “I…uh…uh…” Cursing every curious impulse that had led her to the Whitney house that evening, Angel said the first thing that popped into her head. “I've always wanted to wear my hair in a braid like yours.”

It turned out to be a lucky remark, because hair once again proved it was the common denominator of femaledom. Some thought women could most easily bond over man trouble, but in Angel's experience, it was coiffure concerns that brought every woman to the table. Literally, this time. Within minutes Katie had installed Angel at a small patio side table with a comb and a mirror. Then she proceeded to try to teach Angel how to French braid her own hair.