That Dating Thing (2 page)

Rylee couldn’t help returning Elliott’s grin, rolling her eyes at his ridiculous description of her troublesome student. As with Rylee, Pippin had charmed Elliott, but though the dog was many things, including cute, he wasn’t little.

“If you say so,” Coop muttered. “So, what’s the damage?” He glanced at the boot. “Is the ankle broken?”

“Compound fracture.” Rylee ignored Elliott’s scowl. Their relationship might be estranged, but Coop obviously knew his father. His tough-guy marine comment was right on the money. Elliott would downplay the damage if she let him. “And a concussion,” she continued. “And bruised ribs. His jaw isn’t broken, thank God, just badly bruised. He won’t be eating solids for a while.”

Coop’s mouth thinned at the list of injuries. He nodded. “I appreciate your caring for him until I could get here. And I apologize if I insulted you earlier.”

“If?” Rylee crossed her arms. Was that his idea of an apology? Huh! His efforts sucked.

“I apologize for insulting you.” His amendment seemed sincere until a challenge gleamed in his eyes. “I had you pegged as a gold-digging bimbo. Since that appears to be untrue, all I can say is…my bad.”

A startled laugh escaped at having her words tossed back at her.

Points for him
.

“Apology accepted.” Abandoning her crossed arms, she perched beside Elliott’s shoulder on the arm of the couch. “A gold-digging bimbo, huh?” She grinned down at Elliot. “Is it weird I consider that a compliment?” The men’s matching, blank stares made her laugh. “So, Coop, Elliott says you work in the D.A.’s office. That must be exciting.”

“The constant chaos keeps my interest.”

“What type of cases do you handle?”

He would have been in his first years of college during the time her father was the number one focus of the New York City justice system, but considering their sudden familial connection, if Cooper Reed was going to be trouble, she wanted to know.

“I’m in the violent crimes unit.”

She suppressed a relieved sigh. Though her father’s crimes were big news back then, the only violence had been to his investor’s portfolios. “Ah, avenging the victims of the city’s dark side. No wonder Elliott is so proud of you.”

Surprise flickered in Coop’s eyes and he shot a glance at Elliott before shrugging. “I’m not quite as quixotic as you make me sound. My job is to see that the guilty pay.”

“You may consider that just a job, but I am always impressed by people who take on tough tasks for no other reason than they need doing.”

He stared at her, a slight frown creasing his brow.

“He doesn’t do well with compliments, does he?” she asked Elliott.

He grinned. “He’s not sure what to make of you.”

“He’s not alone.” She laughed. “I’m not sure what to make of
myself
most of the time.” She slapped her thighs and stood. “I was just going to bring your father his lunch.” She smiled at Coop. “Soup. There’s plenty, if you’d like to join him.”

“Uh.”

She turned on her heel before he could form a reply. “Two bowls coming up.”

Chapter Two

Coop followed Rylee’s progress across the room toward the open kitchen area. The swish of her ponytail, a long, straight, swath of jet-black hair, drew his attention down to the lazy swing of her hips wrapped in faded denim. A walk like hers should be against the law, but any man with eyes would risk a felony charge for the chance to appreciate the view.

Plenty to appreciate about the rest of her, as well. Half a foot shorter than his six-two, she was all legs and a slim body, with an enticing fullness where a man likes to see curves. Her plain, white tank top displayed a couple of those curves to perfection, as well as the toned smoothness of her tanned arms and shoulders.

Her facial features were delicate, with high cheekbones and a wide mouth. The black hair, dark-chocolate eyes and lightly bronzed skin indicated the presence of at least some Native American blood. One of the southern tribes possibly, considering the melodic drawl softening the bite of her East Coast accent. The same bite that sharpened when she warned him to keep his voice down, and turned downright slicing after his spiteful insinuation.

Truth be told, he wouldn’t have been surprised to learn his insinuation was dead on the mark, despite the obvious age difference. His father always did have an eye for the ladies and wouldn’t have missed a woman who looked like Rylee Pierce. Add to that her generous personality, evidenced by her willingness to help a friend in need, and her sweet, if quirky, sense of humor, and… Hell, no mystery why he was relieved at their mutual denial of a personal relationship.

At the far end of the condo she moved about Elliott’s kitchen with familiarity, assembling items and stirring a big pot on the stove. The distance made her overhearing improbable, but he kept his voice low just the same.

“She’s…” He ran his tongue over his teeth, searching for the right words to describe the woman working to serve them up lunch. He turned back to Elliott, settling on, “something else.”

“You have no idea.”

“Who is she?” Coop asked, dropping into the chair across from the couch.

“She owns River View. Her condo is below mine.”

“Owns the building?” Coop’s gaze flicked to the kitchen where she ladled soup into bowls with easy grace. “A dog trainer who owns a prime piece of riverfront? I wasted my money on law school.”

Elliott chuckled. “From what I understand, she inherited the building from her grandmother.”

Coop grunted and settled down to the matter at hand. “Give me a list of what you need. I’ll pack you a bag.”

“Where am I going?”

“My place. I don’t have any traveling on the docket for the next couple of weeks, so I’ll be home at night. I’ll hire someone in to stay with you during the day.”

Elliott shook his head. “Not necessary, though I appreciate the offer.”

“Recuperating at my place is the most logical solution, Dad. I have a full caseload right now. I need to be in the city, close to the office and court. Adding commute time to twelve hour days will cut into the time I can be around.”

“I don’t need you to stay with me, here or at your place.”

“Dad.” Coop sighed. “You’re going to need assistance, at least for the next few days.”

“I have it covered.”

Coop frowned. Whenever Elliott Reed used that tone, the topic was closed for further discussion. “At least let me hire a nurse. I’ll feel better knowing someone is with you.”

“You’d just be wasting your money.”

Rylee strolled toward them, a tolerant smile curving her lips. A dishtowel lay draped over one shoulder while wisps of fragrant steam curled from the matching bowls on the tray she carried.

“Sil will just find a reason to send your nurse packing.” She set the tray on the coffee table. “She’s territorial.”

She handed the towel to Elliott, and then picked up one of the bowls. Cocking her head, she studied him. “Do you need help? Or can you feed yourself?”

Elliott grinned. “I can manage, but I wouldn’t dare hurt your feelings if you insist on feeding me.”

She straightened, handing him the bowl and a spoon. “Save the charm for Sil, big guy. You’ll need it.” She turned to Coop.

“I’ve been feeding myself for years,” he said dryly.

Delighted laughter filled the room and a dimple winked in her cheek. She held out the second bowl. “A man of hidden talents.”

His gut muscles tightened at the humor dancing in her dark eyes, and because he always believed in exploring innate, physical signals of attraction, he let his fingers linger against hers a bit longer than necessary as he took the bowl. Her eyes widened at the deliberate contact, her pupils dilating owlishly, and the tightening in his gut intensified.

Interesting…and unexpected, considering Rylee Pierce wasn’t his usual type. Long, cool blondes were his preference.

Like Ashley
? A spurt of irritation had him clenching his jaw. That relationship was over. A woman who considered attending a fashion show more important than putting a murderer behind bars wasn’t worth the effort, no matter how good the sex.

“Who’s Sil?” he asked, covering his irritation by scooping up a spoonful of soup. His taste buds cheered at the savory bite of excellent pasta fagioli.

“Who’s Sil?” Rylee repeated and blinked. Coop followed her confused glance, darting in Elliott’s direction. His father studiously filled his mouth with soup as though starved. “Silvia Burke” Rylee said slowly, “is my aunt.” She turned to Coop. “She’s running an errand. She’ll be back soon.”

“Is she his nurse?”

Elliott choked on his soup.

Sudden tension hardened Rylee’s delicate facial features. She moved behind the arm of the couch, her mouth pinched flat in annoyance. Coop flinched when she landed two healthy thumps between Elliott’s shoulder blades with the flat of her hand. He was about to point out that thumping someone with bruised ribs was a bad idea, when the slam of the condo’s front door stopped him.

The woman who stepped into the room looked like a cross between an Irish gypsy and a hippy. Faded bellbottom jeans, frayed at the cuffs, rested on neon-pink toenails that peeked out from a pair of chunky, leather sandals. Her wispy, floral-print peasant blouse floated about her hips and displayed some impressive curves. A silk scarf wrapped around her head of short, chestnut hair. Large, silver hoops adorned her ears and matched the collection of bangles circling one slim wrist. Her pale skin was close to flawless and the sparkle in her green eyes enhanced the illusion of ageless perfection.

The mysterious Aunt Sil?

Crossing the room, she changed direction mid-stride. “You must be Cooper.”

No Northeastern bite here. Mint juleps and hoopskirts echoed in her pure, southern drawl. Coop rose to his feet when she stopped before him.

“I’m Silvia.” Her steady, green gaze roamed his face. “The people I care about call me Sil. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Cooper.”

To his surprise, instead of offering him her hand, she rose on her chunky sandals and planted a smacking kiss on his mouth. Before he could respond, she spun toward Elliott, dropped a paper bag from a local pharmacy on the coffee table and settled on the couch at his hip. The bangles at her wrist jangled as she brushed gentle fingertips over his swollen jaw.

“Damn, sugar. He looks just like you. I can’t decide which of you is yummier.”

Coop didn’t need the familiar itch at the back of his neck to tell him Silvia Burke was the latest in Colonel Elliott Reed’s babe parade. Reclaiming his seat, Coop glanced between his father and Rylee’s aunt, making eyes at each other like a couple of giddy teenagers.

Rylee’s tension suddenly made sense. She didn’t understand, or appreciate, Elliott’s reluctance to mention his true relationship with her aunt. Coop could have explained the oversight had nothing to do with Silvia. He and Elliott simply didn’t discuss the colonel’s lady-friends. The purposeful omission helped keep the peace.

Elliott’s smile, when he met Coop’s gaze across the coffee table, resembled a guilty grimace. Coop shook his head.

“How are you feeling, sugar?” Sil murmured.

“Better.” Elliott’s smile softened when he refocused on Silvia. “Now that you’re back.”

She laughed low in her throat. “Aren’t you the charmer? I picked up your medicine.”

“You’re all the medicine I need.”

Coop glanced at Rylee, standing off to the side. The tension was still evident, but her lips were curved indulgently, as if to say,
what are you gonna do?
She rolled her eyes and mimicked sticking her index finger down her throat. When his brows rose in response, her smile morphed into a grin.

“Ahem.” She cleared her throat and drew the lovebirds’ attention. “I’d tell the two of you to get a room, but I’d be wasting my time. Now that you’re back, Sil, I need to get downstairs before Pippin organizes a revolt.”

“He’s still here?” she demanded. “I thought you said you were flunking him out of the program.”

Rylee shrugged helplessly. “I sat him down to explain why he needed to go and he got me with his ‘don’t you believe in me anymore?’ look. I caved.”

“He’s playing you, Rylee,” Sil admonished with an arch of her brow.

“I know.”

“Do you want me to take over? He has your number.”

“No, this is between the two of us. And after what happened to Elliott, it’s personal. I’ll handle him.”

“You’re scaring Coop, ladies,” Elliott snickered and all three looked Coop’s way.

Damned straight they were scaring him. Conversing with dogs? Either Rylee Pierce and her gypsy-hippy aunt were a couple of nut cases or they believed they were some kind of dog whisperers. He wasn’t sure which was worse.

“Sil and I run The Canine Academy.” Rylee explained. “A kind of boot camp for troubled dogs. Close communication between handler and animal is essential to the program’s success.”

Not having a clue what to say, Coop grunted and she grinned.

“Sounds crazy, I know, but the proof is in the pudding or in this case the pedigree. We retrain dogs and their owners who have had no luck elsewhere. Sort of a last ditch appeal, as with Pippin. And speaking of which, I’m out of here.”

She bent over Elliot, kissing him on his bruised cheek. The movement displayed her sweetly curved, denim-covered ass like a visual gift, snagging Coop’s appreciative gaze. She straightened far too quickly for his liking.

“I’ll be back later.” Her promise sounded more like a warning to Coop’s ears. “Nice meeting you, Coop,” she said, turning a smile on him.

“Same here.” He rose, glancing at his watch. “I’ll head down with you. I have to get back to the office.” He eyed Elliott. “I’ll be checking in. You have my number if you need anything.”

Elliott nodded.

“I’ll take care of your daddy,” Sil promised, then lowered her tone to more of a demand than invitation. “You come back soon, Cooper Reed. Now that I’ve met you, I’m just
dying
with curiosity. I’ll feed you and grill you on every little detail of your life.”