Cooper (The Family Simon Book 6) Read online

  But nothing. She stared down at him and just…nothing.

  Well, shit.

  There was no answering smile. No softening of her mouth or lightening of her eyes. There was no coy movement or gentle acceptance.

  Double shit. Cooper knew he could do one of two things. He could go big, take nothing but yes for an answer, or he could retreat. He was considering the possibilities of both when Morgan spoke. Her voice was so low, he didn’t hear her.

  “What was that?” he asked, watching her closely.

  “I’ll come.” Her voice was husky—usually the kind of thing he liked, but something was off, and he frowned.

  “Is everything okay?”

  She took a step down; that soft mouth of hers thinned. “Yep.”

  Something was definitely off. “You sure you’re not forgetting anything?” he asked gently.

  Her head shot up. “Do you always grill your dates?” She said something very unladylike and shook her head. “Not that this is a date or anything, so don’t go getting any ideas.”

  “Of course not. This is just dinner.”

  She darted a look over her shoulder. “Then can we go?”

  “Sure.” He went for a smile again, thinking this time it might work. “I thought you might want to grab a coat or something.”

  That surprised her. She glanced down and ran fingers over the tops of her jeans but then took the last two steps.

  “I’m good.” She walked past him stiffly and Cooper followed her to his truck.

  The ride to La Spagatt was quiet—the only thing to break the silence were Morgan’s directions. By the time they reached their destination, Cooper was strung as tight as a bow, and he rolled his shoulders when he stepped out of the car. He had to wonder what it was he thought he’d accomplish tonight, but when he saw Morgan hesitate before joining him, something inside him shifted. It was a protective something, and it should have been a warning to him that things were about to change. Big-time.

  But Cooper ignored that little voice and watched her closely.

  She stood by his truck, staring up at the quaint restaurant, shivering slightly. Her eyes, luminous as ever, were wide and shiny, but it wasn’t anticipation he saw there. It was fear.

  “We can go somewhere else.” He spoke gently, thinking maybe this place was a bad idea.

  Morgan didn’t respond right away and, after a few moments, turned to him. “You must think I’m the most screwed-up person you’ve ever met.”

  Cooper shook his head and offered his arm. He’d seen a lot of crazy in his lifetime. “Not even close.” He cocked his head to the side. “Coming?”

  After a few seconds, she slid her arm through his, and they headed inside. La Spagatt took up the main floor of a century-old home. Built for show, the Victorian-inspired house was grand and opulent, and, now converted into an Italian restaurant, it was lush and surprisingly subdued. They were greeted by a tall, thin man with a full head of snow-white hair, pale gray eyes, and eyebrows as black as soot. The man, Mr. Valenti, was the owner and obviously proud of his establishment as he led them to a small alcove in the first room to their right.

  La Spagatt was quite full, and Cooper realized they were lucky to get a table considering he’d not called ahead for a reservation. The ambiance was soft and romantic, and he watched Morgan as she settled into her chair. Her skin glistened, and sweat beaded the top of her lip.

  “Have you been here before?” he asked, watching her closely.

  Morgan’s gaze swept the room before settling on his, and damn, something inside him jumped up hard.

  She nodded slowly. “A few times.”

  There was a tremor in her voice, and when the waitress suddenly appeared, she jerked a bit.

  “Can I get you anything to drink?” the waitress asked. The server was young, early twenties, with a dark pixie cut and brown eyes that widened when she glanced at Cooper. He knew the look. She either recognized him or thought she recognized him. A by-product of being a Simon, especially the one with the uncanny resemblance to his famous cousin, Beau.

  “We’ll have a bottle of red wine.” He looked at Morgan questioningly, but her gaze had dropped to the table. “A nice Malbec, I think.”

  “Sounds good,” the waitress replied. She cleared her throat, setting menus down on the table, and shot a look toward Morgan. “Aren’t you Sara Campbell’s sister?”

  Morgan flinched. He saw it, and he was pretty sure the server did as well. “Yes,” she mumbled.

  Before the server spoke again, Cooper cut in.

  “Thanks. That’s all for now.”

  Morgan glanced up when the waitress left, shoulders tight, her complexion pale under the muted lights. The candle in the middle of their table reflected in her eyes, making them appear more luminous than ever.

  “Hey,” he said softly, willing her to look at him. She’d grabbed a napkin, her fingers nervously tugging the ends. “Morgan.” He reached across the table and slid his hands over hers and kept them there even as she tightened up and would have withdrawn.

  “We can leave if you want to. Go somewhere else.”

  “No,” she murmured. “I’m good.”

  He held on and waited until she looked up at him. Her eyes were full and shiny and, he thought, maybe on the verge of tears. The urge to draw her into his arms was strong, and he couldn’t look away if he tried. In that moment, something changed. A connection was formed, tentative and unsure, but there nonetheless.

  “I’m glad you came,” he found himself saying slowly. He sounded like a teenager and didn’t give a damn.

  A heartbeat passed. She licked her lips. Exhaled. Relaxed.

  “Me too.”

  It was only two words, but it was enough. He arched an eyebrow. “You’ve been here before, so what do you recommend?”

  Morgan gently disengaged her hands from his and reached for the menu. “It’s been a while. Let me have a look.”

  She bit her bottom lip, concentrating as she read the menu, and Cooper settled in his chair. The server brought them their bottle of wine. It was smooth with a hint of oak, just the way he liked it. He sipped from his glass slowly, watching Morgan as she relaxed, and something rolled through him. It was electrifying and sharp and punched him hard in the gut.

  He sat up a bit and felt like a king when a half smile crossed her face. The night was young and full of possibilities. And that feeling inside him? It was one he’d not felt in a long, long time.

  Anticipation.

  16

  Morgan swirled the wine in her glass, contemplating her evening so far. It was, to say the least, turning out to be one hell of a surprise. After coming home from Cooper’s, already confused and feeling a boatload of stuff she had no name for, she’d found her father piss drunk, passed out on the kitchen floor. There’d been several messages on the answering machine. Missed appointments. Canceled contracts. Bill collectors. She’d pretty much lost it.

  Morgan had rolled her father over and poured an entire jug of ice-cold water onto his face. Totally out of character for her, but whatever. When he’d come to, sputtering and cursing like a sailor, she ignored him, marched herself upstairs, and decided then and there, no way was she staying home with him.

  She’d showered, changed, and had no idea where she was going until she’d walked out of her house and straight into Cooper’s truck.

  And now…now she was ensconced in a private alcove, drinking expensive red wine, actually looking forward to her meal, and all of it was because of the man sitting across from her.

  She peeked at him from beneath lowered lids and wondered for at least the tenth time, why he was so hell-bent on spending time with her. So far they’d chitchatted about nothing important, and she was kind of done with that. Maybe it was the wine that loosened her tongue. Or the delicious fresh bread in her belly. Whatever it was didn’t matter, and as they waited for their appetizers—bruschetta and stuffed artichokes—Morgan set down her glass. Her fingers caressed the stem as she
gazed across the table at him.

  “So what do you do out there?”

  Cooper took a moment, a slow smile spreading across his face, and stirring an answering heat in the pit of her belly, but she wasn’t going to think about that right now.

  “Out where?”

  “Come on,” she replied. “We’re not going to play that game again, are we?” She paused. “You said you wanted to get to know me. Well, there are a few things I’m curious about as well.”

  “You ever hear of an amazing little thing called Google?”

  “Google doesn’t know everything,” she retorted, brows furrowing as a new thought occurred to her. “Have you googled me?” She waited for his answer and didn’t realize she held her breath until he spoke and she let it out in a long, slow roll.

  “I thought about it, but decided not to.”

  Surprised at his candor, she sat a little straighter. “Why not?”

  “I know what it’s like to see things about myself on the Internet. And I’ll be the first to admit most of it is true, or at least they hold a grain of truth. But words on a computer screen don’t tell the whole story. They don’t dig deep and offer up something real. I didn’t google you, even though you intrigue the hell out of me, because I thought I could find out the answers to my questions the old-fashioned way.” He paused, that wicked smile of his making her heart speed up. “I thought I’d take a chance and just ask.”

  “What if I don’t want to answer?”

  He chuckled softly, the light from the candles around the room enhancing the devilish glint in his eyes. “That would be a shame.”

  “Why’s that?”

  He leaned toward her. “Because I think you’re going to surprise me, and it’s been a long time since that’s happened.”

  Again she felt her cheeks heat. It was the tone of his voice, the look on his face, and the intimacy of the moment. She wasn’t sure what this was between them. The only thing she did know was that it excited and scared the crap out of her—both in equal measure.

  “Let’s play a game,” Cooper said.

  That got her attention. “What kind of game?”

  “I ask a question, and you answer it. Then you can do the same.”

  She considered his request, waiting until the server placed their appetizers on the table and left, to reply.

  “Is anything off-limits?” she asked.

  “No.” His gaze was direct, and she wiped damp palms across the tops of her thighs, before unwrapping her napkin and reaching for a piece of bruschetta.

  “Can I go first?” Morgan waited for his answer, but all he did was shoot her that damn smile of his (honestly, it should be illegal) and raise his glass in a mock toast.

  She exhaled slowly, took another sip of wine, munched on a piece of bread, and then decided to go for it. What the hell did she have to lose?

  “What do you do in the shop?”

  “I write.”

  That was unexpected. “Oh.” She frowned. “What exactly do you write?”

  Cooper slowly shook his head, that smile still firmly in place. “My turn.” He reached for an artichoke, and her gaze fell to his lips, to that square chin with a slight cleft and the shadow of whiskers that covered his chin. He took a bite and chewed slowly.

  Mouth dry, she looked away. Nervous butterflies made her stomach turn over, and a cold sweat broke out on her forehead. Hair stuck to the back of her neck, and it took everything in Morgan not to squirm in her seat like a five-year-old sitting in the principal’s office.

  “Do you have any tattoos?” His voice was warm and intimate.

  “I…” That came from left field. “No. Do you?”

  Cooper laughed. “You know I do.”

  Oh. Right. She’d seen him naked. Geez. She glanced away and opened her mouth to ask another question, but Cooper interrupted her.

  “My turn again.”

  Damn. Morgan scowled. He was good.

  “You went to school in California. Why?”

  Morgan considered her answer as she poked at the edge of her bruschetta. “I was offered a full ride.”

  “Nice,” he murmured. “What kind of scholarship?”

  She flashed a smile, suddenly enjoying herself. “My turn.” She paused, studying him for a few seconds. “Is it true Joel McTeer caught you and his wife together?” Joel McTeer was a well-known country singer whose problems with booze and the law had become legendary. He was married to a former NFL cheerleader, Natasha something-or-other, now a celebrated Instagram star.

  “Define caught.”

  She laughed. “As in naked caught?”

  A sly grin crossed his face, and with a small shrug, he set down his wineglass. “I see you’re not averse to using Google after all.”

  “Didn’t have to use Google. I remember when it happened.” She grinned. “Answer my question.”

  “There was a charity event. Natasha had a lot to drink and was a mess. Her husband didn’t seem to care, so I helped her to her room. Let’s just say McTeer wasn’t appreciative of the fact she was all over me when what I was doing was trying to get her settled.”

  Morgan wasn’t sure if she bought this version of events. TMZ’s was so much juicier. “So you weren’t naked? Because they say he chased you out of the hotel room in nothing but your birthday suit.”

  “First of all, I would never run from McTeer. The guy’s a goof. And secondly, that never happened. He came into the room, took a drunken swing, and I decided neither one of them was worth the hassle for me to stay and make sure they both got to bed.” He watched her for a few moments. “You seem disappointed.”

  “Not disappointed. It just…kind of made a good story is all.”

  “What was your scholarship for?” He shot the question at her, and she answered without pause.

  “Track.” She licked her lips. “What kind of writing do you do out in the shop?”

  The server appeared with their entrees, effectively stopping their game, though as soon as Morgan sampled her seafood fettuccini and waited for Cooper to do the same, she dove right back in.

  “Answer?” she said softly. She hadn’t pegged Cooper as the literary sort and thought maybe he did something in the sporting field. Hadn’t one of his cousins played in the MLB? The actor guy, Beau?

  He cleared his throat, his electric eyes enigmatic and strangely hypnotizing. She might have forgotten to breathe.

  “I write about family. Relationships. Drama. All of it.”

  “Like books?”

  He flashed a smile. “You seem surprised.”

  “I guess I am.” There seemed to be a lot more layers to Cooper Simon than she’d first thought.

  They ate for a few moments in silence, each seemingly lost in thought. Morgan was getting full and toying with her pasta when Cooper asked another question.

  “When’s the last time you had a date night?”

  She paused, a forkful of pasta halfway to her mouth, and then she set it down. Her stomach rolled, and she reached for her water. She needed a moment, because she was trying to decide whether to be truthful. In the end, she decided honesty was all she had.

  “It’s been so long, I don’t remember.”

  “That’s too bad,” Cooper murmured, his husky voice drawing her gaze until it rested on him.

  Mouth dry, she licked her lips. “Why’s that?” Something flickered in his eyes and dammit, how was she going to finish her meal with all the action going on in her stomach?

  “Because candlelight looks good on you.”

  Something shifted. She felt it start like a soft whisper that grew to a clamor. It rolled over her, leaving her breathless with a heart beating so fast, she was surprised she didn’t pass out.

  Was it the wine? The ambiance? The brutal honesty they’d both shown? She tossed her napkin and leaned toward him.

  “Have you ever been in love?”

  Morgan watched a play of emotions cross Cooper’s face, and just when she thought the game was done�
�that he wouldn’t answer—he surprised her.

  “Yes.” His answer was curt and she knew there was a story there. “Have you?”

  She held his gaze and slowly nodded. “Yes.” A few moments passed, and she pushed her half-eaten plate of pasta away. Fiddling with her spoon, she found herself vocalizing thoughts that should have stayed hidden.

  “Do you think you’ll ever find love again?”

  Cooper finished the last of his wine and set it down. “I’m not sure I want to.” Again, he lifted a brow and cocked his head. “You?”

  And there it was. The truth that gnawed at her. The truth that haunted her. The absolute truth she felt in her heart.

  Morgan shook her head. “No,” she said softly. “No, I don’t.”

  If Cooper seemed surprised at her answer, he didn’t show it—and even if he did, she was no longer paying attention. Movement a few tables over caught her attention, and Morgan turned slightly, a frown on her face. That voice…

  A man stood beside a woman, his arm around her shoulders. A casual gesture to be sure, but one that spoke of intimacy nonetheless. The man bent down and whispered something into her ear and then straightened, his face alive with a smile that had, at one time, belonged to Morgan.

  Her heart twisted as he perused the room, because she knew what was coming. When he found her, the smile slowly died. It withered and melted into something sad. Just like their love had.

  Nathan. Her Nathan.

  And Christy.

  Oh God.

  Heat and cold collided inside her. Queasy, she fought of a wave of dizziness and winced at the roar of sound in her ears. She knew she was trembling but couldn’t seem to stop it. And, God, she wanted to look away from them, but something, some macabre, stupid something held her still. Her heart was pounding so hard and heavy, she was surprised no one else could hear it. But then, maybe they could. Maybe every single person was looking at her with that same look of pity that had been sent her way ever since the accident.

  The same look of pity that had replaced the love she used to see in Nathan’s eyes. She might have whimpered, or maybe even cried out.