Do Not Disturb (18 page)

And she wanted to give that to Cooper. Somewhere between the moment he'd put his arm around his sister at the memorial service and the time she'd stumbled upon him watching the sunset with his niece, she'd lost her first line of defense. Then last night on the beach, without setting off a single warning bell, he'd slipped past her second guard.

And now she wanted to hold him in her arms and feel him lose himself in her.

It was such a dangerous want, though, that driving back from the mall she'd hit upon the one-time, do-it-quick plan. She was leaving in the morning, and with that plan she would make sure she didn't leave any of herself behind. That he didn't take anything from her.

He stayed statue-still as she approached him, except to shake his head. “You're determined to win, aren't you?”

“Mmm.” She focused on unbuttoning his shirt. “Is that such a bad thing?” Her hands slid over his bare shoulders as she pushed the fabric away.

He sucked in a harsh breath as she kissed the center of the scar on his chest. His hand pushed through her hair to cup the back of her head. “You're the bad thing.”

She smiled against his hot skin, then ran her tongue down the shiny scar. He shuddered and she thought that bad sounded kinda fun.

The idea blossomed in her mind as she ran her mouth over his chest. Bad Angel could take what she wanted, taste what she wanted, push him to take her, quick, like she wanted him to. His belly was flat and hard and she rubbed her cheek against it. Then she dropped to her knees and shaped the erection beneath his jeans with her hands.

He groaned, his fingers tightening in her hair. “Angel, Angel.”

She smiled up at him, noting his half-closed eyes, the little jolt he made when she rubbed him with her palms.
On impulse, she leaned forward and pressed her face there, running her chin up and down his hardness.

Her fingers went to the button at his waist.

He jerked her up by the elbows. “No,” he said roughly. “It's too good to end that soon.”

“But…”

He crushed his mouth against hers. Angel felt that “bad” he'd mentioned start to simmer and burn inside of her—that hot boil of lust that kept turning up to surprise her. He thrust his tongue between her lips and she closed her eyes as he stroked against hers, hard and sure.

Then her mouth was left, wet and wanting, as he bent and took her mesh-covered nipple inside his mouth. As he sucked on it.

“Cooper.” Maybe she was moaning his name. Someone was.

“You can't come to me, you can't come to my bed dressed like this and expect me to ignore you.”

She heard the words but didn't really listen to them, because then he was latched onto her other nipple while kneading the first breast with firm, demanding pressure. Her back arched, and he slid his arms behind her and carried her to the bed, never lifting his mouth from her breast.

Her pulse was thrumming, her body was throbbing. Need shivered her skin, she could see it quivering as he left her on the sheets to shuck his jeans.

His body was so hard, so long and beautiful, carved of muscle. Standing beside the bed, he stared down at her. His palm slid over his erection. “I could do this for
myself, Angel,” he said, his voice hoarse. “That's not what I want from you.”

Her heart stuttered. No! Not anything else. She tried rolling away from him, but he dropped onto the bed and hauled her back. When his hot skin touched hers, she was compelled to reach out, to run her hand over his muscled forearm and then over the long firm line of his flank.

It was the maleness that called to her, she told herself. Not him. Not
particularly
him. She drew her hand up his thigh again as his mouth moved over hers. This time the kiss was soft, sweet, a gentle persuasion.

His touch was gentle now too, gently tracing her shoulders, her breasts, gently running down her arms to link their fingers. He moved above her and she opened her thighs, let him settle in the cradle of her body.

His weight was so good. He flexed his hips, seating himself deeper against her, and she answered with a push of her own. They rubbed against each other like that, and Angel felt the pressure growing. It was that tingly, tense pressure that was so good.

And that no man had ever been able to release for her in bed.

Remembering that, she willed herself to relax. Ordering her body not to move, she mentally forced the tightening arousal to unwind.

Cooper lifted his head. “What are you doing?”

She pushed her hands into his hair, trying to bring his mouth back. “Nothing. Not a thing.”

He narrowed his eyes, but let her draw him down for
another slow kiss. It was pleasant, Angel thought, to feel his warmth, to feel his desire pounding at her breast, heating between her thighs. Her body wanted to catch fire again, to make answering moves to his, but she made herself lie passive beneath him.

Groaning, he rolled away from her. “Angel.”

“What?” She turned on her side to stroke his cheek. “What's the matter?” She didn't like the frown between his brows. If he moved against her again, she'd take care of it, take care of him by taking him into her body. He'd find his pleasure there.

He caught her hand and pressed his mouth to the center of her palm. “You're the matter. You don't want this.”

“I do!” She swallowed. “You do.”

“Angel—”

She muffled whatever he had to say with her lips. With a long, sultry kiss. He groaned, then tore his mouth away.

“All right, all right.” He was panting. “You win. We'll give it a try.”

“Good.” She eagerly moved in for another kiss.

But he held her off. “You have to turn off that pretty head of yours, though. There's too many wheels spinning in there. I can hear them grinding as they go 'round, baby.”

But her head was what kept her sensible. Unhurt. “No other man has complained about the sound of my brain,” she grumbled.

He smiled and brushed her hair away from her face, the gesture so tender her chest ached. “Maybe that's the trouble.” Then he lifted her over him so they were
nose to nose. “Now, shh,” he said, massaging her temples. “Shut this part down. For me. Do it for me.”

His kiss was slow, persuasive, drugging. Angel sighed into it, sighed into him, as his hands stroked along her back. It was sweet, really, and her limbs went heavy.

He shifted her legs, moving them to either side of his hips, and she smiled as she felt the press of his erection between her thighs. There was only a thin strip of material between them and it was nice to feel so close to him, to feel him nudging her there.

“Sit up,” he whispered against her mouth. “Sit up so I can touch your pretty breasts.”

It was as if she were in the hot tub again, her limbs hampered by heated water, but she finally managed. She smiled down at him, running her finger over his lips. “You're handsome. I used to have a crush on you.”

“Yeah?” He grinned, then caught the tip between his teeth. Nipped. Sucked. “Now I have a crush on you.”

Even hard and hot between her legs, he was sweet, so sweet. She smiled at him again, feeling warm and lazy.

His hands slid inside the mesh at either side of her breasts, the fabric stretching to accommodate him so he could cup her. He caught her nipples between the scissors of his fingers, tightened.

She jerked. Fire flashed up her spine.

His fingers made that scissor motion again.

Her hips moved over him.

He pinched harder. More fire as she rocked again.

“That's good.” They said it together.

Cooper's voice went lower, harder. “Let me come in
side now.” She started to move off, but he shifted his hands to grip her hips, holding her against him. “Like this,” he said. “Just like this.”

Then he pulled aside the stretchy fabric between her legs. Thrust inside. Thrust smoothly inside.

He grunted. She moaned. The heat, the pressure, twisted quickly, almost viciously, into a tight coil of pleasure.

His fingers tightened on her hips. “Ride me,” he commanded. “Ride me.”

She had to. She had to move.

It felt so good. Each time he pushed into her she thought he was getting bigger, harder. But when she tried to back off, when she tried to lift herself from him, he pulled her down, his fingers biting into her flesh. Holding her down, against him, making her take the pleasure of each hard thrust.

The tension inside her was twisting tighter and tighter. Their harsh breaths made it twist, his invading thrusts made it twist, his hands holding her down and making her take it, take him, made it twist again and again and again.

Angel dropped her head back and closed her eyes. Cooper's body was moving with more and more deliberation. Harder. Faster. He was getting close, she knew it, and she needed to unwind her desire now. She tried to put it from her mind, go passive, limp, turn off the tension.

“No!” Cooper grabbed a handful of her hair and tugged her head forward. “Don't go away, damn it. Stay. Stay here.”

She couldn't. She wouldn't.

He put his hand between her thighs, just where their bodies joined. Through the mesh he touched her there. She jerked at the first contact, tried to jerk away.

His other hand tightened on her thigh, holding her down. “Let me, Angel. Let me have everything.”

Let him? No! That was her signal to ease off, to…

But he was so big and hard inside, filling her just right, and his fingers were so insistent on the outside, touching her, touching her just right. Not stopping either, not allowing her to pull away, pull back, go passive.

“Let me,” he whispered, his fingers on the mesh, over her right
there,
rolling over the wet bud with a sure touch.

And as she started to quake, he pushed himself higher inside her, thrust harder, higher. And for the first time in her life, Angel felt the orgasmic waves of her body bring on the orgasmic waves of a man. Of Cooper, who hadn't had sex since he'd been brought back to life.

They cried out together.

“Cooper borrowed a wineglass from me last night.”

Across the table from Judd, Beth's brown eyes sparkled with speculation. “What do you think that means?” she asked.

Judd shrugged. Grinned.

She made a face. “Oh, you. You know exactly what it means, you just won't say.”

He laughed. Trust a woman to distract herself from heartache by speculating on the state of someone else's heart. But it was doing
his
heart good to see the tinge of color in Beth's cheeks. She absentmindedly stroked the cat in her lap, and that made him feel even better.

She was finding pleasure in something he gave her. She was finding pleasure with him.

A few days back, he'd hit an all-time low when he'd been forced to admit he'd been hiding from a couple of truths for years. One, he was in love with a woman
he'd been pretending friendship with. Two, the woman he loved had been pretending she wasn't in love with her sister's husband. He'd thought his relationship with Beth was doomed.

But he should have known he was wrong. In the Tao scripture, the
Tao-te Ching,
Lao-tzu had written:

After recalling those lines, Judd had realized that he and Beth had built a friendship that couldn't be rocked—and that could grow to be more.

Buddha said there was a time for everything, so while Judd patiently waited for his and Beth's, he was trodding the Middle Path, living in the harmony that was the Fourth Noble Truth of Buddhism. Through the daily practice of meditation and tai chi, he'd managed to restore a calm balance to his emotions.

The phone rang, and he watched her bend to the cat on the floor before rising to answer it. She was so graceful, he thought. Polished. Her burnt-orange slacks fit close to her slender hips and the loose neckline of the white sleeveless sweater she wore kept sliding to bare a wedge of golden-toned skin across one shoulder.

What would she think if he buried his mouth there?

What would she think if he slid the sweater off? Then he'd unbuckle the rhinestoned thongs she wore on her narrow feet. When she was finally naked, he'd reach down and rip Stephen's ankle bracelet from her. Then she'd be his.

Only his.

All his.

“Judd?”

He jerked out of the fantasy to look up at her. She was off the phone, and looking at him strangely.

“You're glaring at my sandals.” She glanced down at them. “They're a little glittery, sure, but I feel a little glittery today.”

Judd sucked in a deep breath, clamping down on this latest spurt of anger toward Stephen and the even hotter spike of hunger he was feeling for Beth.

But then she smiled at him, and another breath, not a million of them, could stop his belly from tightening. It was at that spot, at his
tan tien
, that his
chi,
or life energy, was gathered. His belly tightened again and the
chi
was forced outward, rushing through his body in an unchecked flood of heat.

Gritting his teeth, he tried to conceal his reaction by pointing toward the phone and mouthing,
Who?

“Lainey,” Beth answered. “She wants us over at the tower. A surprise, she said, and she sounds excited.”

Judd cocked a brow.

Beth shook her head. “I'm just as curious as you. Shall we go?”

He couldn't get up fast enough, hoping the fresh air might level out his mood. Side by side, he and Beth took the short walk toward the tower that had been Stephen's studio. When its long shadow fell over them, they both paused. Though the morning temperature was as blazing hot as every other the past two weeks, Beth shivered.

Without thinking, Judd moved closer and rubbed his palm against the goosebumps on her bare arm. Her
head whipped toward his. She stared at his face, then looked down at his hand on her arm, then stared at his face again.

“Judd?” Her dry whisper told him dozens of things.

There must be some new quality to his touch. It was communicating to her, getting her attention, making her aware. She was surprised by what she felt, he decided, but not displeased. He watched another wash of goosebumps run across her skin and then he lifted his gaze to hers. Held it.
Chi
surging throughout his body, he rubbed his palm over her skin again in a slow, possessive gesture.

Her eyes widened in question.

He nodded his answer, letting his gaze drop to her mouth. Could it be this simple? Had Stephen's death brought about something good after all?

“Hurry up, you guys, come and see this!” Lainey stood in the tower doorway, her face almost as flushed as her twin's.

With a guilty start, Beth hurried forward.

But Judd refused to let the moment pass. Reaching out, he clasped his hand around her slender one. She tried to tug free, but ignoring her, he held fast as they walked inside the tower.

What is firmly grasped cannot slip away
.

Lainey was standing in the middle of the one and only room of the bottom floor, surrounded by canvases. Beth halted so abruptly, Judd's forward momentum almost yanked her off her feet.

“What's all this?” Her voice was strained and her eyes blinked rapidly, as if she were trying to adjust her vision to the dim light.

Except he could see just fine. The paintings surrounding Lainey were Whitneys, a couple dozen, maybe. Other than the occasional fairy and sprite, Stephen had never painted figures, but these were studies of babies, toddlers, young children.
Maybe the same child?
Judd thought.

“I found them in the walk-in closet Stephen used for supplies.” There was a light, an energy about Lainey that made Beth now seem dull and hollow by comparison.

Judd squeezed her fingers, and she glanced down as if she'd forgotten she had hands, and that one of them was joined with his.

“What do you think?” Her sister was almost skipping about the room as she rearranged the paintings, setting them against the wall, against the heavy leather furniture. “Look at this one!” she said, holding a canvas toward them. “Look at the pretty baby.”

A round-cheeked, gilt-haired infant, colored in the otherworldly pastels that signified Stephen's work. The baby was reaching for something out of the canvas, its chubby fingers extending toward the viewer.

“Don't you just want to touch her?” Lainey said.

Beth shook her head. “No,” she murmured. Then she raised her voice. “Maybe…maybe they're not Stephen's paintings.”

Setting the canvas down and darting toward another, Lainey laughed. “Of course they're Stephen's. Not only is it obvious, but he signed them.”

She whirled, a beaming smile on her face. “I think finding them is a sign. Finding them is Stephen's way
of telling me we should have the September show after all.”

“What?” Beth's fingers convulsed against Judd's. “We can't. We canceled. We burned the paintings.”

“We'll reschedule. We'll reschedule and show
these
paintings.” She darted for the door. “I'm going to fetch Cooper. He's got to see them.”

Lainey rushed out, leaving Judd and Beth alone.

After a moment, she slowly approached the nearest painting. Her hand was still linked with Judd's, so he followed, but she didn't seem to notice that, or even him, as she stared at the canvas.

“He told me they were destroyed,” she whispered. “I begged him to, because I was afraid someday someone would find them and the truth would come out.”

She looked at Judd, her eyes wide and dark in her pale face. “Stephen painted them as a comfort, he told me. Though he swore they weren't, I've always thought they were portraits of the child I miscarried. Our child. Mine and Stephen's.”

Shocked, Judd turned abruptly away. A violent tide of jealousy swamped him, washing through him, washing over his
chi
, washing away everything but the image of Beth pregnant. Pregnant with Stephen's child.

Stephen. Goddamn it. Always Stephen. His fists clenched.

No. No!
Judd struggled to regain control of himself. Taoism taught him to reject violence and envy. Just about every religion in the world—and he'd studied a shitload—preached against hate. But now he was feeling things he'd never gone looking for.

Five years ago, he'd left his shallow existence trading stocks and come to Big Sur to look deep. To find an authentic life—one of harmony, balance, peace!

Not this…this confusion of emotion, he thought, dropping Beth's hand. Never this.

 

“I'm taking off in a few minutes.” Turning away from the infirmary's closed door, Angel brought the receiver closer to her mouth and lowered her voice another notch. “Tell Jane I'll be in the office this afternoon. Though I never got the widow's sister to talk, I interviewed everyone else.”

Her bags were loaded in her car. She'd double-checked the drawers in her cottage, she'd removed her shampoo from the shower, she'd looked beneath the narrow bed. She wasn't leaving anything behind.

On the other end of the line, her intern said something that made Angel frown. “I haven't phoned in a few days because I've been busy, Cara. Busy working.”

What Cara said next had her rolling her eyes. “Where do you
get
this stuff? No, I haven't found myself some mountain man to fall wildly in love with. Not even mildly in love with.” She made a sound of disgust. “Is that all you called to talk to me about?”

The squeak of the infirmary door opening made her spin. “Right, right. I called you. Well, I gotta go now.”

Across the metal desk, she met Cooper's dark gaze. Everything inside her jumped, and she felt a flush burst across her skin. He looked a little ticked, but she didn't know if it was because she'd sneaked out of his bed at dawn—leaving him sprawled across the mat
tress in deep slumber—or because she'd been using the forbidden phone.

She decided against finding out which reason it was. Scooting around the desk, she set her sights on the door.

In her hurry, her sleek-soled sneakers lost their purchase on the glossy linoleum. Her balance wavered.

As Cooper's hand shot out to catch her, she lurched back to avoid it. Her hip slammed against the corner of the desk, and wincing, she regained her footing. Thank God she hadn't had to grab him. Hang on.

Taking a deep breath, she forced herself to walk forward again. Heart thudding, she passed him, taking in the smell of his soap and damp skin. Then she was at the doorway, then over the threshold.

He'd let her go.

Of course he had. He'd never been interested in holding on to her in the first place.

Within moments she was heading down the steep, downhill path that led from the cottages to the parking lot. She didn't look back, just breathed in the mingled fragrances of trees, salty ocean, and sun-baked hills.

As last memories went, she told herself, it wasn't so bad.

“Angel.”

At the sound of Cooper's voice just a few feet behind her, she jumped. The jerky movement made her sneakers lose purchase on the thin carpet of fallen pine needles that covered the path. She dug in her heels to stop her impromptu slide and her arms windmilled.

From the corner of her eye, she saw him leaping for
her, his hand reaching out to steady her. But another desperate, graceless flap of her arms took care of the job. His hand dropped to his side.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

She didn't look at him. “Of course. I'm fine.”

Cursing herself for not leaving while he was still sleeping, she continued on. He didn't want to discuss the night before, did he? Because she didn't want to talk about it. Any of it.

But why else would he be following her?

Maybe he wanted her phone number. Maybe he wanted her address. Maybe he was going to suggest they should get together when he moved back to the city.

In her mind's eye, she could see the two of them in a small city bistro, knees and briefcases bumping beneath a bottlecap-sized table. She'd tell him about her day and he'd laugh at Cara's latest romantic tangle. He'd rant about his current case and she'd lean across the table and kiss the frown from his mouth.

They'd leave the restaurant and head…

Home.

God, she could see that too. Tom Jones, her neighbor's cat, would be waiting in the hall. She would lean down to pet him as Cooper opened their door. Inside, he'd stop her from turning on one of the news channels and instead pull her into his arms to fill the silence with the sound of his heartbeat. Later, when he opened his briefcase and spread out his papers, she'd hook her finger in the open collar of his shirt and draw him away from them and into the bedroom.

She was still deep in the feathery depths of the daydream when they reached her car.

“Angel.”

She fought her way out of the fantasy, then hesitated. What
if
he asked for her number? What should she do? Should she agree to see him again?

“Angel.”

With that lovely fantasy still so fresh, she decided.
Yes
. She whirled toward him. “All right, it's—”

He was holding out a brown grocery bag. His eyebrows rose as she merely stared at him. “It's your stuff,” he said.

Her stuff.

“Your laptop, cell phone, hairdryer.”

Here's your hat,
Angel thought wryly,
what's your hurry
? But it was just what she deserved for flying off on some stupid fancy. She snatched the bag from him and stuffed it in the backseat of her car. “Thanks.” Then she slammed the door and forced herself to turn toward him again.

“I guess that's it,” she made herself say.

“Yeah.” His eyes were serious. Unreadable.

“Cooper—”