First Star I See Tonight

11

Coop sprang from the bed. He couldn’t believe what had happened. It was a nightmare. Worse than a nightmare. Total humiliation. A sexual apocalypse.

He stalked out of the bedroom and across the hallway. The last time he’d gone off like that, he’d been sixteen. And of all the women he had to relapse with… Piper Dove!

He closed himself in the bathroom. The shared bathroom. Thank God it wasn’t shared now, because he had to be alone.

The foghorn sounded its mournful wail. He flipped on the light, but he couldn’t look at himself. Staying at this place had been a terrible idea.

The bathroom was as old-fashioned as everything else, with a radiator under the window and a claw-foot tub surrounded by a white shower curtain. He turned on the water in the tub and somehow maneuvered himself inside. The shower nozzle barely came to his chest, and the curtain kept sticking to him until he felt like he was being attacked by a monster squid.

“You’re getting water everywhere,” said a grouchy voice from the other side of the curtain.

“Get out of here!”

“I have to pee. Don’t look.”

“Like I’d want to.”

The toilet flushed, and scalding water cascaded down his chest. He jumped back and bumped into the end of the tub. The wet curtain wrapped its tentacles tighter around him. He heard a snort from the other side.

This was what happened when you abandoned your game plan. You got beat. And that’s what she’d done. She’d beat him at his own game.

The shower had just returned to its normal temperature when she turned on the sink, and another blast of scalding water assaulted him. Once again, he jumped back.

Premature ejaculation. Just thinking the words made him wince. He was an endurance athlete. The marathon man. The distance swimmer. Stamina was a point of pride with him. She’d messed up his whole life, disrupted everything. But he’d never expected her to disrupt this.

He flipped the shower water to cold. Let the icy blast force his brain to work again. If he started thinking like a loser, he’d turn into one, and nobody bested Cooper Graham. He had to come up with a logical reason for what had happened, something to save face. Maybe he’d tell her he had a medical problem. An encroaching case of the flu. An old injury acting up. Or he could be a dickwad and blame her. Say she’d been-what?-too damn sexy? This was no time for honesty.

He grabbed a towel. One thing was certain. He had to face her. Maybe he could use grief as an excuse. That might work. He’d tell her he’d just gotten the news that his grandfather had died. She had no way of knowing that mean son of a bitch had died twenty years ago. The perfect excuse.

She wasn’t in his bedroom, and her own door was shut. He pulled on his jeans and knocked. When she didn’t respond, he tried the knob, but it was locked.

He was overcome with grief. Definitely the way to go. The loss of his beloved grandfather. “Open up!”

“Don’t worry about it,” she said from the other side. “It can happen to anybody.”

She was gracious in victory. Oh, so fucking gracious. If women like her were let loose to rule the world, men would become obsolete. “I’m not worried,” he heard himself say. “It happens all the time.”

Where the hell had that come from?

“Seriously?” she said. “To you?”

He plunged on. “Hell, yes.” So much for his dead grandfather.

She threw open the door, eyes blazing. “And you’re proud of it?”

“I don’t think much about it one way or the other.”

Her legs were bare, but she’d pulled her detestable Bears T-shirt back on. “You’re a total asshat. You know that, right?”

He propped himself against the doorjamb and fulfilled her low expectations. “The thing you’ve got to remember, Sherlock, is-when you’re me, life is basically a female smorgasbord. I can do what I want, when I want.”

Her lips were still puffy from his kisses, and her blueberry Pop-Tart eyes smoldered with outrage. “Are you for real, or are you a comic book character I made up in my nightmares?”

He’d unwittingly stumbled onto the perfect defense, and he went with it. “Most women don’t mind, and if they do…” He shrugged.

She slammed a hand on her hip. “There are more damselfish in the sea? Is that the way it is?”

He yawned and stretched. “Yeah, I should probably be ashamed of myself.”

“But you’re not?”

“All they have to do is say no.”

“Which they never do.”

“Who understands women?”

She was too smart for his own good, and her outrage had begun to shift into something that was beginning to look like amusement. He didn’t like that at all, so he called an audible. “Refresh my memory, Sherlock. Did I miss hearing you say no?”

She set her jaw. “You did not hear me say no. I already told you I’ve been known to use men.”

“You also told me you were off them.”

“But I didn’t say for how long.” Just before she shut the door in his face, she fired her final salvo. “Good night, Rocket Man.”

Piper woke to the sound of a halyard slapping the metal flagpole outside her window. During the night, a deep sense of disappointment had burrowed inside her, and she did her best to shake it off. His failure to execute might have been humiliating for him, but it was a gift to her. Things had gone far enough-much too far-without that final intimacy.

What had she been thinking? She hadn’t been thinking. That was the problem. Something about Cooper Graham made her disengage her brain. One thing was blindingly clear: despite their banter, despite the attraction he undeniably held for her, she wasn’t going down that path with him again, no matter how good it had been. Almost fantastic. The hard tension of his body under her palms. Those skillful hands that knew just where to go. She shivered.

They barely spoke over a breakfast of strawberry muffins and a delicious ham and cheese frittata she could only pick at. Piper dreaded the hours she’d be locked in the car alone with him, and as they set off from Two Harbors, she was as tightly wound as an ignition coil.

Instead of berating herself about what had happened, she should be happy that she’d made the great Cooper Graham lose control. But she didn’t feel happy. She could only hope he wouldn’t bring up last night because if he did, she’d have to play all her smart-ass cards, and she wasn’t sure how many she had left.

They’d barely cleared the iron ore docks before he released a diabolical chuckle. “Face it, Sherlock. You’re easy pickin’s. All I have to do is take off my shirt, and you’re pretty much a lost cause.”

And here they went again. Off to the wisecrack races.

“That’s true,” she said. “Male chests have always been my weakness. Seriously, Coop, if you get any more muscular, you’ll be scratching your armpits and wolfing down bananas.”

“You let me worry about that while you figure out how you’re going to help me with my little problem.”

“Excellent idea. Shut up for the next four hundred miles so I can ponder it.”

Another chuckle, which was fine with her, as long as they didn’t talk.

He should have tossed her right back on the bed and screwed her brains out until she begged him to get to the finish line. Instead, he’d been too mortified to think straight, and he’d dueled with her. Winning was in his blood, and he hated feeling like a loser. Hated even more knowing she had to be seeing him that way. He couldn’t pull off to the side of the road and throw her in the backseat like he wanted, but the silence in the car was getting to him. Somehow he had to show her he was still the quarterback of their team.

“I’ve been thinking about our conversation last night,” he said, “and you might have a point.”

“I usually do.”

She’d loosened her seat belt enough to tuck a leg under her. If she’d been wearing shorts instead of jeans, he’d have had a clear view of the inside of her thigh. A thigh, he now knew, that was firm, smooth, and fine. He hurried on. “What if I’m missing out by not taking a little more time in the sack with my lady friends?”

She pulled a face. “It’s so sad. All those traumatized women believing your problem is their fault. I should open a counseling office.”

He would not laugh. “Yep. The more I think about it, the more I think you’re right. I might have a sex problem.”

“Fortunately, there are a lot of books on the subject.”

“Hell, I’m not much of a reader. Too many words to sound out.”

“Interesting. I’ve found all kinds of books in the apartment.”

“Cleaning people musta left ’em.” He kept dishing out the bull, exactly the way it had to be between them. “Since you’re the one who pointed out my problem, it’s only fair that you help me work through it. Only as a sex partner, you understand. This has nothing to do with our professional relationship.”

She glanced over at him, all full of fake regret. “Don’t take this wrong, but I’ve kind of lost interest.”

No way a woman who’d responded the way she had last night wasn’t still interested, but he only nodded. “I understand.”

They were quiet for a while. To relieve the tension, Piper called Jada to find out how her killing spree was progressing. Very well, as it turned out. She’d offed five more of her classmates. Eventually, they made a stop for fast food, and Piper took over the driving. By the time they reached the Illinois border, the effort to appear relaxed had left her shoulders screaming. She struggled to find a topic of conversation that would take them through the last leg of this unending trip. “I happen to know you’re a real softy. And I mean that in a nonsexual way. Although…”

He choked on his Coke.

She smiled to herself. “These hospital visits you make to Lurie…”

“No idea what you’re talking about.”

He knew, all right. Even though he managed to sneak in and out of Lurie Children’s Hospital without attracting the attention of the press, she’d uncovered the interesting fact that he spent a lot of time visiting sick children. “I can’t picture you around kids.” Another lie. From what she’d seen, he was as relaxed with children as he was around beautiful women. “You can tell me. It’s the hot nurses, right?”

“Now you’re embarrassin’ me.”

“But there’s one mystery I can’t figure out. Not even with my amazing detecting skills.”

“Shocker.”

“When I was following you, you’d sometimes hang out on the mean streets with various scurvy-looking characters. What’s that about?”

He polished off his Coke. “Shootin’ the bull, that’s all.”

“I don’t believe you. Tell me. I’m like a priest.”

“You’re not anything like a priest. You’re-”

“Stop stalling.”

He shifted in his seat, suddenly uncomfortable. “I don’t know. It’s… I’m not going to do anything about it, so there’s no point discussing it.”

But something told her he wanted to talk, and she welcomed any topic that didn’t lead back to the bedroom. She waited.

He gazed out the passenger window. “I had this idea… But it takes too much time and too much effort, with no guarantee of a payoff.” He turned back to her. “All those empty city lots are a waste. Nothing but weeds and trash.”

She was starting to get the picture. “You’d like to do something more about that than throw seed bombs.”

He shrugged. “There are too many people with no jobs and no prospects. All those empty plots of land. Seems like an opportunity for somebody.”

“But not for you.”

“Hell, no. All I’m interested in now is business.” He pulled out his cell and called Tony.

She listened to them talk about the new bouncer Tony had hired to replace Dell, who’d been fired four days ago. She wondered if Coop had figured out yet that she’d finished her job for him.

After six nights on the floor, she’d done as much as she could. His staff was clean, and she and Tony had put together new procedures that should keep things relatively honest. Her salary from Coop, along with the pay from her chauffeur job, would hold her over for a while. How long depended on what was in the tip envelope the limo owner was collecting for her and how much further she could stretch out her job at Spiral. Her job that was over.

She told herself to think more like a shark and less like a Girl Scout. The salary Coop paid was her lifeline, and she needed to hold on to her job. Except there was no more she could do for him.

If only Duke hadn’t taught her about integrity-along with how to shoot, fish, and feel bad about being female. As much as she needed to bleed Coop a little longer, she couldn’t do it. As he ended his conversation with Tony, she gripped the wheel a little tighter. “I’ve done everything I can for you.”

He set his cell in the empty cup holder and practically leered at her. “Not quite everything…”

“I’m talking about my job,” she said quickly. “I’ve done what you hired me for. Your biggest problem right now is your lamebrained refusal to keep a bouncer near you.”

“I don’t need a babysitter.”

“It’s interesting that every other big-name jock who comes into the club brings along all kinds of hired muscle, but you’re too tough.”

“I can take care of myself.” He couldn’t have sounded more belligerent. “Are you really telling me you’re thinking about quitting?”

“It’s not quitting. Spiral’s clean. All that’s left is for you to hire a female bouncer. It’s not smart to have your men touching any of your women customers, no matter how drunk they are. You could end up with a big fat lawsuit for sexual assault.”

“Good point. You’re hired.”

She should have anticipated this, and for a moment, she let herself consider it. But she couldn’t work until early morning four nights a week and keep building her business, not long term. Before she knew it, she’d be a nightclub bouncer instead of a detective, and she hadn’t come this far to throw away her dream.

“No, thanks. I’m an investigator. You’ll have to find someone else.”

“This is about last night, isn’t it? You’re quitting because you-”

“Because I slept with the boss?” The other reason she couldn’t stay on.

He glared across the seat at her. “That is completely unethical on your part! As unethical as it would be if I fired you.”

“Report me to the EEOC,” she snapped.

“Stop being a smart-ass. You know exactly what I mean.”

She struggled to sound professional. “Coop, I want to end this on a positive note. I hope you agree that I’ve done a good job for you, and I’d appreciate it if you’d recommend me to your friends.”

“Yeah, I’ll do that, all right.” He snapped down his sun visor and grabbed his cell.

Coop tried to tell himself this was a good thing. She’d done her job-done it well-and he’d been waiting for the time when she’d no longer be working for him so they could launch a full-out affair. But now that time had come, and he was no longer confident that she’d cooperate.

He pretended to check ESPN on his phone. Spending a few weeks naked with her had become more important than it should. Maybe it had something to do with his retirement, with making certain the space between who he used to be and who he was now hadn’t changed.

She was new territory for him. Unsentimental and unpredictable. A woman who didn’t take him seriously-who didn’t care how many games he’d won, how rich he was, how famous. A woman who didn’t find him frickin’ irresistible!

It galled him. Compared to his usual women, she was a guy, for god’s sake. A guy packaged in an incredibly sexy, incredibly appealing, incredibly tough little body. Which basically contradicted everything he’d been trying to tell himself about her.

And that was the reason he couldn’t let Piper Dove waltz out of his life. Because he wanted her, and she refused to want him back. She didn’t flatter him or flirt with him, and she definitely hadn’t fallen for him.

He needed her to do that. Not fall in love for real. He’d hate that. Just fall for him.

“I want an exit interview,” he said when they’d pulled up behind her car in the city. “Tomorrow night at the club.” He handed over the fuses he’d taken from her Sonata without offering to put them back in. She’d know how to do that herself. Of course she would. She was the leading edge of a new civilization, one that rendered the traditional male skills of ex-jocks obsolete.

He left her with her head buried under the hood of her car, rump thrust out, and headed home. His garage door opened soundlessly. He parked next to his Tesla, grabbed his duffel, and let himself out through the side door. The floodlights on the back of the garage had burned out, and the path was dark. He heard a rustle. With no more warning than that, a man leaped from the shrubs and swung something that looked like a tire iron at Coop’s head. Coop spun and jerked. His adrenaline kicked in. He drove his shoulder into the man’s chest and grabbed his arm.

The guy grunted but didn’t fall. He tried to swing the tire iron again but Coop had his arm. He twisted it. The man kicked out, hitting Coop in his bad knee and throwing him off balance. Coop took a hard shot that would have sent him down if his reflexes hadn’t been so sharp. The guy was big. Hulking. Coop ignored the shooting pain in his knee to go after him.

The fight was short but brutal, and the thug had finally had enough. He tore away from Coop’s grasp, screamed something at him, and took off into the alley. Coop started after him, but his knee buckled, and by the time he got his balance again, the thug was gone.

His jaw throbbed. His knee hurt like hell, and his knuckles were bleeding. But instead of calling the cops… instead of going inside to grab some ice for his face… he limped back into the garage and climbed into his car.

“Oh my god! What happened to you?” Piper grabbed the edge of the door, her eyes wide with alarm. She was wearing a fucking Bears jersey again. How many of those sons of bitches did she have?

He pushed past her into the apartment. “You’re the hotshot investigator. You tell me!”

Instead of calling him on his bullshit, she slammed the door and came after him, her mouth set in hard lines. “Who did this to you?”

She had vengeance written all over her. As if she personally intended to go after the perpetrator. Which, he realized, she did.

He headed for the refrigerator, her fierceness beginning to settle him down. “A thug ambushed me as I was coming out of my garage.” He grabbed a dish towel and some ice.

It didn’t seem to occur to her to play Nurse Nancy, unlike the time she’d shoved him down in the alley. She snatched up a notepad. “Start at the beginning and tell me exactly what happened.”

“I got mugged, that’s what.” He pressed the ice pack to his face.

“Tell me what the guy looked like.”

“Big. That’s all I know. It was dark.”

“What was he wearing?”

“A Brooks Brothers suit! How the hell do I know? I told you, it was dark.”

“What about security cameras? Lights?”

He shook his head, then wished he hadn’t. “They’d burned out.”

“How convenient.”

She made him start at the beginning and go over it, detail by detail. There wasn’t much to tell, and he regretted coming here. Wasn’t sure why he had.

She looked up from her notepad. “You said he yelled something as he was running away. What was it?”

“I don’t remember.”

“Think.”

He raked his fingers through his hair. “Hell, I don’t know. Some kind of threat. ‘I’ll get you.’ Something like that.”

“‘I’ll get you.’ That’s what he said?”

“Yeah, I think that’s what it was.” He shifted the ice pack.

“That doesn’t sound like your garden-variety mugger. And why didn’t he have a gun? They’re as easy to come by as candy bars in this town and more convenient than a tire iron.”

“You’ve seen too many TV shows.”

She persisted. “If he’d been after your wallet, he would have had a gun. It’s like he was after you personally. But why?”

He glared at her jersey. “Because he’s a Bears fan.”

“Not funny.” She stabbed her pen in the air. “You need to get to the ER.”

“A bruised jaw. Some sore ribs. I’ll take care of it. And before you say anything, I’m not reporting this to the cops.”

He was surprised when she didn’t argue. Maybe she understood that if he reported this, the story would hit national news, the press would be all over him, and without surveillance video, the police wouldn’t be able to do squat. All he’d end up with was publicity he didn’t want.

She shoved the pencil behind her ear. “Something’s not right about this, and I don’t want you going back home yet. You’re sleeping here tonight.”

He regarded her incredulously. She had to be kidding. He tossed down the ice pack. “It’ll be a cold day in hell before I hide behind a woman’s skirts. Or, in your case, an ugly T-shirt.” He made it outside the building before she could yell at him about sexism and all that other crap.

He got home without a problem. His jaw hurt like a bitch, and he needed to get cleaned up, but before he did that, he crossed through the kitchen and went out into his garden.

As always, the good scent of dirt and green growing things did their work. He loved this place.

The illumination from a pair of headlights shone over the wall from the alley behind the building. The same headlights that had followed him home. With a sense of resignation, he pulled out his cell and hit the contact button. “Go get some sleep, Sherlock. I’m not going anywhere.”