Do Not Disturb (24 page)

Angel jumped to her feet and put her hand on his shoulder. “Cooper?”

Her fingers were warm. He didn't stop himself from covering them with his cold ones. Just for the moment, just for now, he needed her heat.

Her eyebrows drew together in a frown. “You
are
freezing.”

He avoided her concern by shifting his gaze to the ocean. He stared out across the endless water toward the distant horizon and the sunless sky. It was beautiful, he thought, even though another day was gone.

The wind and the waves roared in his ears. His chest expanded on a breath of briny air, and he could taste seaweed and salt and pine on his tongue. Yes, it was still so very beautiful, even with the sunset a thing past.

It hit him then. The sun was gone, but the world wasn't. Its light was gone, but this moment wasn't. Its heat was gone, but the warmth of Angel's hand wasn't.

And I'm not gone either
.

Sudden optimism flooding through him, he squeezed her fingers and smiled up at her. “You ready to go back? It's getting late, sweetheart, and we have things to do.”

“What?”

“You know,” he said, his voice going husky. “
Things to do
.”

The startled giggle on his other side reminded him that Katie was still with them. He glanced at his niece and winked. “
Adult
things, squirt, so get lost.”

“Cooper!” Angel sounded mortified. “What's the matter with you?”

He grinned at her, because he thought she might get mad if he laughed. But God, he felt like it. He felt like laughing, grinning, smiling, because there was no
point in worrying about the future when having Angel in his arms once more sounded so simple and so right. So not yet finished.

He didn't let go of her hand, even when they came within sight of his place and Angel tried tugging it back. “You never answered my question back there,” she said. “What's going on?”

Once again, smiling was easy, because he had all the answers now.

“We've been thinking too much.” He ushered her toward his front door.

“We've been worrying too much.” He pushed her over the threshold.

“And not living,” he said against her mouth, “not living enough in the moment.”

Her skin was sleek and hot against his cool flesh. She was wet where he was hard. Her mouth fit against his, his body fit inside hers. Just another of nature's incredible beauties.

There was no future.

There was only now.

 

Though not yet dawn, the art exhibition tent was as bright as noon, thanks to the track lighting spilling onto the paneled walls. Beth tore a strip of brown wrapping paper off another painting. They'd returned from the framer—who'd worked feverishly to get them finished as a special favor—the day before and she was going to hang them quickly, then go.

Leave the Sur.

Her hands were shaking, but she told herself it was lack of sleep, not fear of everything she was about to do.

Leave her home.

Leave her family.

For once and for all, breaking the chains of the past, of the secrets, and of the silence that had kept her half-living for too long.

Steeling herself, she tore at the wrapping again, revealing another cherubic child. Without allowing herself to look at the image itself, she reassessed the painting's size, making sure it would show to advantage on the panel she'd selected. Then she mounted the ladder.

As she reached upward, she heard footsteps. Her little start of surprise set the ladder rocking, but then its movement abruptly stilled. From behind her, hands—one still marked by long scratches—wrapped two of the ladder's legs to steady it.

There was nothing to steady her pulse, so Beth just ignored its jumping. She went about the task of hanging the picture on the silk-covered panel as if Judd weren't there. Then she took her time adjusting it to hang perfectly straight.

But the fussing only made her pulse more jumpy, so she finally forced her hands away and took a step down the ladder.

The back of her calf brushed him and she jerked again.

“Get out of my way,” she said through her teeth.

He didn't move.

She shot him a glance over her shoulder. He looked as steady, as calm, as
silent
as always. “You're in my way.”

He was. He stood between her and freedom. He was a piece of the why she'd stayed too long already.

Now when she moved, he stepped to the side, leaving only one hand on the ladder. She stared at it, at the scratches that had started to heal, at new scratches the kittens must have given him since.

“Will you take Shaft for me?” she asked abruptly.

He blinked. Frowned.

“I'm leaving. I need someone to care for Shaft.”

Judd's hand released the ladder and fell to his side. His gaze stayed trained on her face as if he were trying to read her mind. For years, she'd thought he could. Somehow, anyway, through shared smiles and laughter, her chatter and his cryptic notes, he'd become her foundation, her sounding board, her best friend.

She sucked in a shallow breath, her chest too tight for a deeper one. “I can't stay for the show. I can't watch people stroll through my secrets and my shame.”

Judd looked away, leaving her to wonder what he was thinking. She'd never been able to read
his
mind. Sure, they'd always managed to communicate, but he'd only let her in so far, so deep. Though Judd's calm silence had always been attractive to her, such a contrast to Stephen's nearly manic self-absorption, it had left her feeling selfish at times.

She took from Judd and never gave.

Just like Stephen had taken from her, from Lainey too. Knowing him, he'd probably egotistically rationalized his behavior as the demands of his muse. Or the passions of the artistic mind.

Not that he hadn't been charming about it. Not that
he hadn't possessed a talent for finding and connecting to the soft center of people's hearts. But now that he was gone she was seeing him—and what she'd done with him—so much more clearly.

Grabbing up the next painting, she viciously tore at the paper covering. The last time she'd felt this kind of anger, she'd been walking down the aisle toward the man she loved—as her sister's maid of honor. But the feeling was surfacing again, fighting its way through the layers of shame and blame she'd tried to suffocate it with. With another rip, she worked the painting free.

She instantly averted her eyes from the blond baby depicted on the canvas. Determined to get on with the job, she forced her gaze around the room, searching for a likely spot.

A likely spot among painting after painting of
her
baby. Blond, like Stephen. His blue eyes. There wasn't even a hint of her features in those of the child depicted over and over and over.

“How could he?” It was already warm outside and it was even hotter in the tent. Or maybe it was her mood, her rage, finally becoming something she was releasing from her soul. “How could he have married my sister and have an affair with me? How could he have made us both pregnant? How could he paint our baby like this, with such…such
love,
when she was already gone?”

Judd hadn't moved. He stared at her, silent.

She stalked toward him, seething. “I lived half a life as penance for my mistakes. I stayed to watch Stephen, to make sure he didn't take advantage of Lainey or
some other woman again. I stayed because I love my sister and my niece. I also stayed because—”

She'd be damned if she'd tell Judd
that
. “But I'm done settling for half, for living on guilt and a friendship that only goes so far.”

She whirled, made it one step. He caught her arm. She wrenched it free, then turned on him again.

“Why did you kiss me?” she demanded. “Why?”

He looked at her, his expression as helpless, as silent, as when she'd asked him that question the day before.

She laughed, and it was so short and bitter that it felt like a sob. “Go ahead, keep it to yourself. But I'm not keeping my secrets anymore. Not one. Not one more hour.”

Resolved to face up to everything, though, she took a last, long inspection of the paintings of the child. Her stomach instinctively cramped, steeling against the pain of what was lost.

Funny, though. When she looked, really looked, it was hard to equate them with loss. The canvases were beautiful, really beautiful, the child in them vital and alive.

They weren't her child, she thought suddenly. They were Stephen's imagination, his artistic gift, and that warm part of his heart that was undeniable, despite his flaws.

Then she glanced at Judd's stoic face and her grief resurged. She ran out without saying goodbye.

 

Judd stared after Beth. What had she said? That she wasn't going to keep her secrets any longer? Oh God.
Oh God. He'd been so stunned by the idea of her leaving that he'd almost missed it.

Taking off after her at a run, when he burst through the tent entrance he smacked straight into Angel. They grabbed each other to keep their balance.

Her hair, her face, was a pale smudge in the dark gray of early dawn. “The world just keeps tilting on me,” she muttered.

The odd rawness of her voice gave him pause. He tightened his grasp on her and looked into her face.

As if sensing his question, she met his gaze squarely. “I couldn't help but overhear. All of it.”

Without even thinking, Judd spoke. “I don't know what to do.” His voice was gritty, too low, too harsh. “I love her.”

“You're asking me? Well, this is what I always say.” Angel closed her eyes. “The truth. Once you have the whole story, you gotta tell the truth.”

Judd found Beth in her kitchen. He didn't bother ringing the bell or even knocking. Instead, he walked around to her back door and let himself inside.

And then stood looking at her, tongue-tied.

He still didn't know what to do. Nothing in the religions and philosophies he'd studied provided a suitable guide to this moment.

She glanced up at him from her place at the table. There was a smudge of dust on her cheek, her bangs were hanging messily in her eyes, and he realized she was wearing a T-shirt with a rip in the shoulder seam. He gaped, because except for the time he'd kissed her, he'd never, not once, seen Beth in less-than-perfect order.

Then he looked around the kitchen, surprised again by the dirty dishes in the sink, the long, wide smear of
something—peanut butter?—on the usually pristine countertop, the quarter inch of scorching coffee in the bottom of the pot.

He stepped over to unplug the coffee machine and caught sight of Shaft peering cautiously around the corner from the hallway. Their eyes met, and they spoke to each other in the way that dumb animals—males—can do.
Don't look at me,
the creature clearly said.
I'm not gonna try to reason with her. Shaft may be “the cat that won't cop out when there's danger all about,” but he was a character in a movie…. I'm a real cat, and a neuteredone at that
.

Judd turned back to Beth. She was bent over the table, her pen racing across a sheet of paper.

He stepped closer, alarm twisting his gut again. He'd heard right. She was writing a letter to Lainey.

To get Beth's attention, he shuffled his feet. When that didn't work, he rattled an empty chair. When she continued to ignore him, he finally resorted to snatching the pen from her hand.

She didn't even blink. Instead, she grabbed for another pen on the tabletop, at the same instant that he reached for the stack of notepaper beside it. Their fingertips brushed.

They both jerked back.

They both bent over their pieces of paper.

Judd slid his note her way.

Without a beat, Beth swept it off the table.

It fluttered to the floor, even as her pen continued forming word after word of her letter to her sister. Retaining a tight hold on his calm, Judd grimly plucked another blank sheet off the table. Penned another line.
Watched again as she dismissed his thoughts with a wave of her hand.

On his third failed attempt, she spoke without looking at him. “Don't bother anymore. I won't read it.”

Judd closed his eyes.
Be calm
.
Find balance
. He tried losing himself in the quiet of the room, settling his mind to its original state of purity and clarity—Zen. But his anxious heartbeats boomed in his ears, his harsh breaths ripped through the silence, the clock on the kitchen wall loudly ticked off the seconds of this last chance.

His mouth moved, once, twice. “You'll listen, then.”

Her head jolted up at the rusty sound of his voice. She stared at him.

He held up his finger. “One thing. I have just one thing to tell you.”

Her gaze jumped away from his. “It's too late. I gave you chances to talk about…about us. But you wouldn't, couldn't.”

“Not us.” He shoved back his chair, knelt at her feet, and put his hands over hers. “More important than us.”

She tried to pull away from him, but he held fast. As a stockbroker he'd given advice thousands upon thousands of times. He'd made his clients money, enabled them to buy luxurious lifestyles and the most expensive of toys. But when his prize client—and best friend—the one he'd made millions for, committed suicide, Judd had woken up to the fact that all his talk and all his trading had never bought a cent's-worth of happiness.

From that moment on, he'd vowed never to advise
anyone again. He'd started listening instead. But now he had to break that vow.

“You can't tell Lainey.” It was as concise as he could make it.

Beth jerked back in surprise. “Lainey? This is about Lainey? You're breaking your silence of five years for
Lainey
?”

“Yes.”

Her face paled. “For Lainey?” she whispered.

“Yes.”

She turned her head away from him. “No—”

“This is your secret to bear, Beth. I won't let you hurt your sister by telling the truth.”

Her eyes closed, Beth was shaking her head. “No, no, no, no.”

“It's not right, not fair, to free yourself by burdening her.”

One tear squeezed from between Beth's lashes and rolled down her face. He followed it with his gaze, pretending it was his hand, his mouth, caressing her cheek.

“So I'm the wrong one again,” she said dully. “The bad twin.”

“If you tell, yes.”

“No!” She wrenched her hands from his and jumped out of her chair. “Who the hell are you?” she yelled at him. “Who the hell are you to tell me what I should do?”

And there it was, the question he'd feared. It was the one he knew would come up the instant he opened his mouth. When he was Judd Sterling, noble guru, Silent
Man of Mystery, he'd always hoped he stood a chance against the “Artist of the Heart.”

But now she'd know he was a fake. She would know there was nothing deep beneath his silence.

“Who am I?” His throat tried to hold back the words, but he forced them out. “I
was
a golf-obsessed, NASDAQ-addicted Wall Street trader who didn't know he was burned out until he buried his best friend and then his marriage. Your ordinary asshole.”

Crossing her arms over her chest, Beth turned her back on him. “And now?”

“Now…” Surrendering, he sighed. “Now I'm still ordinary. I'm just your ordinary forty-something guy trying to figure out the fucking meaning of life.”

Her back still to him, she walked to the sink to stare out the window. “Yet you've managed to figure out I can't tell Lainey.” She said the words slowly, coldly.

“Beth.” She was turning his heart inside out again and it hurt so damn much. “It's your cross to bear.”

“It hurts me. You don't care how much it hurts me.”

He closed his eyes.
You don't know how much I care about you.
But still, he couldn't say it. “I wish…I want…”

Her shoulders stiffened as he got to his feet. When he stepped up behind her, she pressed her belly against the countertop. “You've said your piece. Now go away.”

But there was a wealth of pain in her voice and however ordinary he was, he couldn't leave her without trying to do something about it.

“Let me help,” he said, lifting his hand to gently
stroke her hair. “I know you would never forgive yourself if you hurt your sister again, Beth.
That
would be heavier than what you're carrying now. But I'm still your friend. So tell
me
your secrets, tell me how and when it hurts, and I'll be here to make it better if I can.”

She stilled. “What?”

“You'll only hurt yourself more if you hurt Lainey too.”

Her head slowly turned toward him. They were close, so close that she had to tip back her head to look into his eyes. “You don't want me to tell…for me?”

He nodded, puzzled as to where the surprise was.

“For me,” she said again, as if she had to be sure. “Not Lainey. You broke your silence for
me
.”

He nodded another time.

She ran her gaze over his face. “I…” The word drifted away and she looked down at the countertop. “Why, Judd? I need to know why.”

Why? She'd asked him that before.
Why did you kiss me? Why?

All the old reasons for silence were still there. What wisdom had he really gained in the past five years? He'd never had more than a superficial relationship with anyone, even his so-called best friend. Could he do differently with Beth?

But he already had.

Would she let him get that close?

But she already had.

Could he win the heart that had been bruised for so long?

“Why, Judd?” Beth whispered again.

He had to try. Yet still, the words were difficult. He looked around for something to write with, but retrieving paper and pen meant leaving her side. So he made do.

In the smear of peanut butter on the countertop, Judd traced three symbols: I
U.

Beth stared at them a moment, then turned so that her body was flush against his. There was something on her face—hope, joy, wonder? “You love me?”

Yes
. He gathered her against him, holding her fiercely as he meant to for the rest of his life. Later he'd find his voice again and tell her everything, all his secrets included. He'd tell her how he came to Tranquility House and then stayed, not because he found himself in silence or yoga or tai chi or tofu.
I stayed because I found you
.

“You love me.” She declared it this time.

He smiled against her hair. Whispered against her cheek. “More than words can say.”

 

It was midmorning when Angel left her cottage, feeling drained. Flexing her cramped fingers, she headed for the common building. Cooper had to be wondering what happened to her. She'd slipped out of his bed at dawn, planning to retrieve her jar of contraband instant coffee and then slip right back in beside him. But then she'd heard Beth and Judd, and
what
she'd heard had sent her to her own place for more than coffee.

She drew in a deep breath, and the hot, dry air
sucked the moisture from her mouth. An image of a frosty glass of diet Pepsi bloomed in her mind to hover at its edge like an oasis. Lord, she missed them: diet Pepsis, manicures, lattes, honking horns. Deadlines, idiot copy editors, her byline, bold and strong in her favorite Helvetica font.

She wanted to go home.

Oh, she wanted to forget about the past three weeks.

“Hey!” A big hand grabbed her arm, spun her around. “I thought we had a deal about you not running out on me.” Cooper towered over her, looking mildly harassed and monumentally gorgeous. Her heart tried to curl in on itself.

She wanted to forget about him.

But how could she, how could she ever, when he suddenly grabbed her by both elbows and hauled her up to his mouth? She lifted her face toward his kiss, letting it blot everything from her mind but its sweet, hot passion.

Pressing her body against his, she angled her head, silently begging him to make it go on and on.

“Damn!” His expression bemused, he set her back on her feet. “What good deed did I do to deserve that?”

She crowded closer to him, twining her arms around his neck. “Let's go back to bed.” They could turn out the lights, draw the drapes, and pretend they were the only ones in the world.

He cocked an eyebrow and gently pushed her hair off her face. “It was
you
who got up for dawn patrol.”

“Let's pretend I didn't.” Rising on her toes, she kissed the scratchy underside of his chin. “Let's start again where we left off.”

He smiled, toying with one of the curls at her temple. “Sounds tempting. But I can't—”

“I need you,” she whispered, trying not to sound as desperate as she felt. If time couldn't run backward, then it would just have to stand still.

“Angel—”

“Cooper.” She opened her eyes wide, trying to appear as fragile and innocent as everyone always thought her. Her bottom lip trembled. “Didn't you hear me?” She'd wheedle if she had to. Beg. “I
need
you.” The words were getting easier to say.

He laughed. “You had me worried for a minute there.” As he pulled away from her, he swatted her behind. “But Angel Buchanan doesn't need anybody, I know that.”

She stared at him. “But…”

He gave her another swat. “Come on, honey. The fact of the matter is, the fun stuff will have to wait until tonight. Right now, I need
you
.”

He was several steps ahead before he seemed to notice she wasn't with him. He turned around. “Well, come on. We've got a lot to do since Judd took Beth away.”

“Away?” She hurried forward. “Away where?”

“Judd has a condo in Pebble Beach.” Grinning, Cooper wiggled his eyebrows. “They're taking a few days off.”

Angel blinked. “Now?”

“They left fifteen minutes ago. And no time like the present, is what I say.”

The present. Angel's footsteps faltered and she thought longingly of the future. When she was back in
San Francisco, and all that was here—and what she'd have to decide to do about it—was behind her.

“So we're in charge of Tranquility,” Cooper continued.

She stopped again. “
We?
”

“Shh, shh.” Cooper grabbed her hand and made a big play of scouting about the deserted path. “Remember, we have to set a good example.”

“I'm still unclear as to why 'we' are involved here.” But she let him pull her forward.