Cooper (The Family Simon Book 6) Page 13

  Indian Motorcycle. Hmmm.

  With one last glance around, she retraced her steps, noticing an open door to her right that was hidden by the long shadows of the room. She peeked inside, and luckily, because of the massive window that took up most of the room, she had no trouble seeing clearly.

  It was an office. Of sorts. Walls filled with framed artwork celebrating Broadway. Beau Simon movies, all of them signed, and more than a few pieces of artwork probably worth more than all her possessions.

  There was a chair in the corner, a deep rich mahogany-colored piece, as well as another small sofa in front of a large desk—which sported the biggest desktop screen she’d ever seen—and fast asleep in front of the thing, head resting on his arms, was Cooper.

  Carefully, she made her way over to the desk, a soft smile on her face. God, what was it about grown men fast asleep that was so appealing? She stood a few inches away and just let herself appreciate him. His hair was messy, his jaw shadowed with stubble, his mouth soft and relaxed. She could see the boy he once was and imagined he’d used all the charm he possessed to get himself out of more than a few scrapes.

  She smiled at the thought and murmured, “Probably a lot.”

  He made a noise then, a soft mutter, and she froze as his arm snaked out and slid up her hip. He turned and opened his eyes, smiling up at Morgan as he gently pulled her to him.

  “Hey,” he said, voice scratchy from sleep.

  She heard him speak. Saw his lips move. And yet all Morgan could think about was his hand on her hip. And that underneath her jeans, a mere whisper away from his fingers, was ugly, scarred skin.

  She tried to move away, but Cooper wasn’t having it. He held on, regarding her in silence. “How did you sleep?” he asked, straightening a bit.

  Breaths falling faster and her heartbeat running to catch up, Morgan exhaled shakily and shrugged. “Good, I guess. I don’t remember going to bed.”

  He smiled, and it was a thing of beauty. A dazzling, hypnotizing, spell-casting work of art that took her breath away. Oxygen seemed to be in short supply, and Morgan had to work to clear her throat as she gulped in air.

  “Did you know you snore?” he asked, his smile now devilish.

  Wait. What? Her eyebrows slammed together as she frowned. “I don’t… I mean I’ve never snored.”

  His grin widened. “How would you know?”

  “Because no one has ever told me that before.”

  “Well, you do.” Again with that smile. God, he was cheeky. “But it’s okay.” His eyes darkened, filled with something that made her heart take off again. “It’s kind of adorable.”

  “Really,” she answered, breathlessly.

  He nodded. “You hungry?”

  It took a moment, but Morgan realized she kinda was. She nodded.

  “Good.” Cooper gently pushed her back and got to his feet. He was tall—but so was Morgan—and yet today, she felt small and delicate and…feminine as she stood in front of him. His warm breath caressed her cheek as he leaned a little closer, and for one crazy moment, she thought he was going to kiss her again.

  He was close. So close to her mouth.

  The air between them heated, and sweat broke out along her forehead. She resisted the urge to rub her hands across the back of her neck, but alas, she couldn’t stop staring at his sexy-as-hell mouth.

  It was crazy that she was feeling things…hot things…desirable things. Nothing could come of this—whatever this was—and yet…

  Her lips parted, tongue sliding across the tops of her teeth as she waited.

  “I’m damn good at a lot of things,” he said, voice a little rough.

  “I’m sure you are.” Jesus. Her voice sounded like a cross between Cyndi Lauper and Marilyn Monroe. What the hell. Maybe with a dash of Minnie Mouse thrown in for laughs.

  “Problem is I can only share one of them at a time.”

  God, his mouth was sinful. “Multitasking not a strong point?” She dragged her gaze from his lips, which was the wrong thing to do, because if she wasn’t mistaken, his eyes were lit by that monster known as desire.

  An answering heat began to burn inside her. It was confusing. Exciting. And scary.

  “Oh, I can multitask when I want to. But right now…” His hand slipped to hers, “I’m going to cook you breakfast, because I make a damn good Belgian waffle. And then we’ll talk about multitasking.”

  He arched a brow, waiting for her to answer as Morgan’s gaze slid to her hand, nestled inside his. She remembered last night. Cooper Simon liked to hold hands. Who knew?

  He tugged gently on hers.

  He liked to hold her hand, and right now, in this moment, she was going to let him. “Okay,” she breathed, letting him take the lead. “Impress me.”

  “I plan on it.”

  There was an undertone that colored his words. An undertone that sparked the heat inside her to burn hot. An undertone that promised dark, dirty things.

  Morgan thought that, maybe, Cooper wasn’t talking about breakfast. And for once, maybe she was okay with that.

  19

  Cooper whistled as he went about making a breakfast to remember. He’d had food delivered the day before, so he was good to go. While he grabbed a bowl to mix the ingredients for his waffles, Morgan started the coffee machine and cleaned strawberries and blueberries. They worked as if they’d made breakfast together a hundred times before, each knowing what the other needed or wanted, and as he poured his mixture onto the grill and waited for the waffles, he stood back and felt…

  Content. Happy. Settled.

  This right here felt right. Cooper didn’t ponder the thought, at least not right now. He tucked it away and decided he didn’t want to think about anything other than making the perfect waffle for Morgan.

  She set a cup of coffee in front of him, black, just the way he liked it, and then sat while he finished up. Maple syrup and whipped cream were his toppings, along with the fruit she’d set aside.

  Outside, the sun was already climbing the sky. It was another gorgeous New England day to look forward to. Considering he’d made a ton of progress on his book, Cooper decided he was going to enjoy every minute of it.

  Once he made small mounds of art on top of their waffles, he slid onto the stool beside Morgan and waited until she took a bite.

  “Well?” he asked, trying to gauge her reaction, but the girl was good at hiding stuff, and he frowned, watching her. Morgan chewed for several long moments, head bowed, fingers loosely holding her utensils.

  “It’s…” she murmured, eyes closed, brows furrowed as if thinking hard. “Um.” She licked her bottom lip, leaving it shiny and smeared with more than a dab of syrup. Suddenly, Cooper didn’t care at all what she thought, because right now, he was more interested in what she tasted like.

  In his mind an image rose up. Of long silky hair. Mouth parted in ecstasy. Tangled limbs and hands that clawed. He stifled a groan, even as a cold sweat engulfed him. He needed to shut this shit down before he got himself into trouble.

  Her eyes shot open. “It’s so good.”

  Cooper held her gaze a heartbeat longer than he needed, but it was worth it to see the slow flush of pink that lit her face. “I’m glad.” He waited for her to dig in once more before he turned back to his own plate.

  They made small talk. They chatted about everything and nothing—nothing that mattered, anyway. When Cooper finished his plate and pushed it aside, he leaned on his elbows, watching Morgan. She was laughing at a story he’d just told her, and he decided that her laughter was one of the nicest things a man could listen to. He couldn’t help himself and reached for her, swiping at a bit of whipped cream that clung to the corner of her mouth.

  She stopped laughing.

  He slowly licked the cream from his fingers.

  And suddenly, the game changed.

  “I want you to stay here today,” he said abruptly, sitting up straighter, watching her closely. “With me.”

  “I…”
She licked her bottom lip, her gaze sliding away from his. “I need to change, and…I, ah…” Her voice trailed off, and he slid his hand under her chin, forcing her head up a bit until she had to look at him.

  “Is that your only objection? You have no clothes? Or do you have plans?”

  She moistened her lips, and his body reacted instantly. It took every ounce of control Cooper had not to kiss her. Not to sink his hands into her hair and put his lips on her. But he knew she was skittish. That she needed time and patience. The fact that he was willing to give it to her said something, but again, Cooper decided not to dwell on any of that.

  “I never have plans.” Her voice shook a little, and that emotion inside him twisted hard—he could barely breathe.

  “Well, that’s good for me.”

  “Why’s that?” she asked quietly.

  And here he was with the win. “Because now you don’t have an excuse to say no.” Cooper smiled, his thumb caressing the corner of her mouth and then tracing the generous bottom lip. “Charlie left a bunch of stuff here you’re welcome to, and I’m sure you’ll find something to wear. So go have a shower while I clean up. Change your clothes and leave the day’s entertainment to me.”

  She was silent for a few moments, and was that a hint of a smile touching her lips?

  “Entertainment?”

  He nodded. “I’m going to give you a day to remember.”

  His heart thudded slow and steady against his rib cage, and as that hint of a smile turned into a full-on thing full of sweetness and hope, he knew he’d do whatever it took to keep it there.

  “The clothes are in the guest room beside mine. Towels are in the linen closet.”

  “Okay,” Morgan said, drawing the word out slowly, as if still unsure. But after a few seconds, she slid from the stool and headed for the stairs. Cooper watched until she disappeared, and then found himself whistling once more as he began to clean up. He glanced back outside, and after a few seconds, reached for the phone. He’d just promised Morgan a day to remember, and he would give it to her.

  He waited impatiently, striding over to the window as the phone rang in his ear.

  A sleepy voice answered.

  “Maverick. It’s Coop. I want to run something by you.”

  It was just after eleven in the morning when Cooper and Morgan headed out. They were into the last days of March, and it was unseasonably warm. The odd powder-puff cloud dotted the sky, and the winds were minimal. He’d packed extra blankets, just in case, old boots for him and Morgan.

  He glanced at her. She looked light and easy and maybe a little happy. It made Cooper feel good to know he was responsible for it.

  They drove to Fisherman’s Landing, and he pulled into the parking lot of A Charmed Life. He left the Land Rover running and slid from the cab.

  “Do you want me to come with you?” Morgan asked, puzzled.

  “Nope. I’ll be right back.”

  She didn’t answer, and he smiled to himself as he strode into the diner and headed for the counter.

  “Right on time.” Jessie looked impressed, and with a wink, she headed to the kitchen, assuring Cooper everything was in order. He waited at the cash register and had his credit card ready when Jessie appeared, a large basket in her arms. She set it down in front of him.

  “I’ve double-packaged everything so the hot will stay hot and the cold will stay cold.”

  “Thanks, Jess. I appreciate it.”

  She grabbed his card and, while the payment processed, leaned against the counter, her gaze direct, her expression questioning.

  “So news around town is that you and Morgan had dinner in Dunn Harbor.”

  Cooper had heard small-town gossip moved faster than the speed of light, but even he was impressed with just how quickly Jessie had gathered her intel.

  “Rick recommended that Italian place.”

  “Did he?”

  Something in her tone had his head jerking up so fast, he had to blink a few times to clear his vision. A small frown crossed Jessie’s face as she gave him the payment slip to sign. He grabbed it and quickly scribbled his signature.

  “You got something to say, Jess. Have at it.”

  “Can we be frank?”

  Okay. He liked Jessie. He really did. But Cooper had the feeling that whatever the woman was going to say wasn’t something he was going to particularly like hearing. That being said, the woman had always been nothing but kind and generous to him, so he was willing to have a listen.

  “Of course.”

  “How well do you know Morgan Campbell?”

  Yeah. He definitely didn’t like where this was headed. “Well now, Miss Jess. We’re just getting to know each other. Ask me that again in a month.” He kept his tone light, but he stood a little straighter now.

  “Glad you brought that up.” She grabbed a rag and started dabbing at invisible crumbs on the counter. “You think you’re going to be here in a month? Two months? The summer?”

  “I don’t usually look that far ahead,” he admitted after a few seconds.

  “And that’s fine.” Jessie offered a small smile. “Look, it’s none of my business, and Lord knows that girl deserves happiness. But with Nathan and Christy back in town, I’m afraid she’s looking for a distraction.” She tossed the rag. “You’re the kind of distraction that could bite her in the ass. She’s been through a lot. She’s fragile, and I just…” She sighed. “I don’t want to see her hurt again.”

  The warning was obvious, and if it had been anyone else shoveling it out, Cooper might have taken offense. As it was, he grabbed the basket and took a step back.

  “I appreciate the concern, but we’re good.” He gave a quick nod. “Thanks for the food, Jess.”

  Cooper tossed the basket into the back and slid in beside Morgan, who was singing along to some country song he’d never heard before. He glanced at the dashboard. No wonder. She was listening to the oldies.

  Her eyes widened mischievously as she reached for a particularly high note and failed to reach it with an epic flourish. He’d never seen her this playful.

  He pulled out of the parking lot. “Hate to tell you this, but you might want to invest in some singing lessons.”

  “Oh, I took singing lessons when I was seven.”

  “You did?” He tried to hide a smile but wasn’t very successful.

  “Darn right I did. I went five or six times.”

  “And?”

  She shrugged, that soft smile still playing around her mouth. “And Mrs. Ansel told my mother never to bring me back. She said I was hopelessly tone-deaf.”

  “Ouch.” He turned right at the last set of lights in town. “What did your mother do?”

  Morgan chuckled, and her eyes got a faraway look in them. “She told me to never let anyone tell me what I can and can’t do.” She giggled then, a soft musical sound that was in direct contrast to her vocal capability. “And then she very kindly, very gently, suggested I take up dance.”

  “Your mother sounds like a smart woman.”

  Morgan nodded. “She was.”

  Cooper glanced at her sharply and felt like an idiot for not thinking before he spoke.

  “We good?” he asked, watching her carefully.

  If she was surprised at his question, she didn’t show it. She nodded and settled back.

  Cooper headed out of town and sped along some of the most scenic coastline he’d ever seen. The sun was high, the temperature unseasonably warm, and he had Morgan to himself for an entire afternoon.

  Life, as they say, was good. And right now, in this moment, with this woman who intrigued the hell out of him, that was about all he could ask for and probably more than he deserved.

  But he was a Simon, and, selfish bastard that he was, he’d take it.

  20

  Morgan Campbell had lived most of her life in the state of Maine and had never visited a lighthouse. It was a bit of an oddity considering they were everywhere, it seemed, and in fact, her home stat
e was known for them. Several of the lighthouses that called this particular stretch of coastline home were famous. Some for their historical value. Others for their beauty. And some, like the current one she stared up at, because of the stories.

  Haunted stories.

  Crest Island Lighthouse sat on the edge of a cliff overlooking the Atlantic. Built in the mid-1800s, it was Victorian in design and elegantly crafted, and considering its age, the darn thing had held up well. Cooper had arranged a helicopter lift to the 7000-acre island, and the view from above as they flew over had taken her breath away. It was desolate and beautiful and dangerous and exhilarating. She’d found herself leaning forward, hands and face against the glass so that she could see better.

  It was something she’d remember. She glanced at Cooper. Something she’d keep for herself and cherish.

  He was chatting with the groundskeeper, an elderly gentleman sporting a red-and-black-plaid scarf that nearly dwarfed his small frame. A smart-looking gray flat cap covered his head, though she could see thick, wiry hair curling madly around his ears. An old pea-green jacket fell to just above his knees, and dark gray rubber boots completed his outfit. The man’s hands moved—he was quite animated when he talked—and Cooper nodded at whatever it was he was saying.

  They’d just finished the amazing lunch he’d picked up from Jess. Hot chowder. Fresh biscuits. Fish and chips with coleslaw. And all of it to enjoy near the edge of the bluff with the warm sun on their faces and the fresh air in their lungs. As they munched their way through the food, she’d settled back and squealed in delight when she’d spotted a pod of whales a few miles off the coast.

  In that moment, she felt as if she could close her eyes and go back in time, to a place where nothing bad had happened to her.

  If only, she thought as sea salt rode the wind that had picked up and whipped over the bluff to tug at her hair. She decided not to think about any of that and to just be content for once. To revel in the simple pleasure of being, well, happy. A foreign concept in her world these days, but right now, she’d damn well take it.