Waiting For Wren (Book Five In The Bodyguards Of L.A. County Series) (28 page)

She smiled, studying him as he lay back down. Despite his attempt at joking, his eyes were still distant and weary. What she wouldn’t give for him to flash her one of those slow, sexy grins. She crawled on the bed next to him, wanting to make this better. “Here, sit up.”

“You just told me to lay down.”

“Trust me.”

He sat up, and she scooched behind him, pulling him back against her. She wrapped her arms around him and nuzzled her face in the crook of his neck, breathing him in.

He turned his head and kissed her lips. “This is much better than coffee.”

“Mmm.” She held him tighter, absorbing his warmth, hopefully lessening some of his troubles. “What time did you come to bed?”

“Around six.”

“
Six
? Tucker, you’ve hardly slept at all.”

He grunted as he laid his head on her shoulder.

“What on earth were you doing?”

“Studying the hundreds of pages of documents Ethan sent me.”

She took his hand, lacing their fingers. “I’m sorry this is so hard on you. Is there something I can be doing?”

He shook his head as he brought their joined hands to his heart. “This works for me.”

She rubbed her cheek against his soft hair. “How are things going? Do you feel like you’re making some headway?”

“Not really. I’ve been tossing around a couple of theories that don’t seem to take me anywhere.”

“You’ll get it. Why don’t I—” Her cellphone rang, cutting her off. “Hold that thought.” She leaned toward the side table and grabbed the phone. “Greta,” she said as she glanced at the readout. “Hello?”

“Hi, Wren. I’m sorry to call so early.”

“No worries. I’m up.”

“I wanted to let you know I have two showings today, and one couple seems
very
interested. My gut’s telling me we’re going to move this house immediately.”

Her heart sank. “That’s wonderful.”

“The little touchup to the exterior and a comforter for the master suite was all we needed. The inside is gorgeous, but you know that.”

“Yes.”

“All right. I’ll let you know how things go. The eager couple has a three thirty appointment. I’ll call after we finish up.”

“Sounds great. Thanks.”

“Bye, honey.”

“Bye.” She hung up, struggling to suppress a sigh.

Tucker tilted his head, catching her eye. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah.” She tried a smile. “That was my realtor. She thinks we might have a buyer. She’s very optimistic about this afternoon’s showing. The couple’s excited.”

She could hardly stand the idea of anyone else living in her home, but her grim financial situation hadn’t miraculously rectified itself in the last five days. “This is a good thing. A really good thing,” she told herself as much as Tucker.

“Then why do you look so bummed?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. I’m not. The money will go a long way toward helping Patrick with some of his medical expenses and getting me settled in up in Santa Barbara.”

“Wren, we can find a way to keep the house.”

She shook her head, not even wanting to entertain an impossible idea. “No, I can’t. I don’t want to talk about this.”

He held her gaze, then turned back to rest his head on her shoulder.

Her cellphone rang again.

“When did we wake up in Grand Central Station?” Tucker said.

She picked up the phone. “Los Angeles General.” Her stomach knotted as she answered. “Hello?”

“Ms. Cooke?”

“Yes. Is everything all right with Patrick?” The line stayed silent, and she clutched her hand against Tuckers. “Hello?”

“Wren,” a garbled voice said.

“Patrick?” Her eyes widened, instantly filling. “Patrick?”

“Wren,” he said again.

“Oh my God.” She’d been terrified she would never hear him speak again. “I miss you. I’m coming home to see you tomorrow.”

“Wren,” he repeated.

She swallowed the lump of emotion in her throat.

“Ms. Cooke, Patrick wanted to surprise you.”

“Well he absolutely did. He said my name.” Her lip wobbled.

“It’s the first word he’s spoken.”

She closed her eyes, trying to keep her tears at bay. “So, what does this mean?”

“That he certainly remembers you.”

She grinned.

“Patrick is still improving everyday. He’s staying awake longer and working hard with his Occupational Therapist. The Speech and Language Pathologist will be in to observe him later today.”

“Do the doctors—do the doctors have any idea of a long-term prognosis yet?”

“Well, honey, they were pretty sure he was going to be vegetative, but Patrick has different ideas. It’s really hard to tell. We’ll keep at his daily therapies and see where we go. Having you home will be a good thing. You’ll be a great motivator. He loves hearing that you call to check on him every day.”

“Good. Will you tell him I’m coming to see him as soon as I step off the plane? And tell him I love him, please.”

“You bet. We’ll see you soon, Ms. Cooke.”

“Okay. Thank you for the call.”

“Absolutely, honey.”

Wren hung up, set the phone down, and pressed her lips firm against the rush of emotions wanting free.

“Sounds like some good news.”

She nodded, unable to speak, as a tear fell down her cheek.

“Hey.” Tucker sat up. “Hey,” he said again as he turned and pulled her against him.

“He talked to me,” she shuddered out. “He said my name.”

“I know.” He eased her back, looking her in the eyes. “That’s damn good stuff.”

“Yes it is.” Another tear fell, and she tried to turn away.

He forced her back to the mattress, weighing her down, covering her body with his, pulling her arms over her head, lacing their fingers. “Don’t do that, Cooke.”

She looked up into his face. “I hate crying,” she sniffled.

“Yeah, I know.”

“But I can’t help it. I’ve been so scared. I wasn’t sure he would ever talk again or do much of anything. I’m so happy.”

He planted a quick kiss on her lips. “This is big stuff.”

“Really big.” She tried to free her hand. “I need to wipe my cheeks.”

He slid his thumb along the damp trails. “I can wipe away your tears.”

And it felt good to let him. “Thanks.”

“No problem.”

She sniffed again. “I’m trying not to get my hopes up. I want Patrick to be who he was before all of this, but that might not happen.”

“Sounds like he’s got a lot of work to do, but he’s making strides.”

She smiled. “He certainly is.”

“I’m sorry.”

Her smile vanished into a frown as his tone grew serious. “For what?”

“For what Patrick’s going through. For what you’re going through.”

“It’s not your fault. I’m trying to remember it’s not mine either. He’s making progress. Five days ago he was battling to survive. Today he’s talking.” She hugged him as the burst of excitement consumed her. “He said my
name
.” She loosened her grip. “You’re still coming with me to the hospital, right? I want Patrick to meet you.”

“Yeah, I’ll come.”

“Good. Eye candy’s always an excellent motivator.” She sent him a playful wink.

He gave her a pained look. “Jesus, Cooke.”

Laughing, she pressed her palms to his cheeks and pulled his face to hers, giving him a kiss. “There’s nothing wrong with appreciating, no matter your preference. And Tucker, there’s plenty to appreciate about you.” She kissed him again as he tried to pull away. “Where are you going?”

“I have no idea.”

She laughed harder, realizing he was completely embarrassed. “Mr. Campbell, you must know you’re gorgeous.”

“I don’t really think about it.”

“I do.” She brushed a finger along his jaw. “A lot. Aren’t I lucky you’re all mine?”

“Getting possessive.” He slid a strand of hair behind her ear.

“Definitely.” She snagged his lip with her teeth.

“Are you telling me you only like me for my looks?”

“No.” She skimmed her hands down his sides. “But they’re an excellent bonus.”

“You trying to get laid, Cooke?” He grinned.

She grinned back. “You’re the detective. I’ll let you figure it out.”

He palmed her breasts, hardening her nipples, then traveled down, sliding his fingers under pajama bottoms and panties, invading her.

She arched, gasping as delicious tingles fluttered in her belly.

He kissed her neck and changed the pressure of his stroking, sending her reeling. “I’m going to go with my gut here and say you’re definitely up for a roll in the sheets.” He yanked her pants to her ankles, freed himself from his boxers, and entered her.

She gasped as he hissed out a breath and set a hurried pace. Skin grew damp and flesh slapped flesh as he rammed himself deep again and again.

“Tucker,” she cried out, gripping his shoulders as he took her up and over with a quick flash of staggering heat.

He captured her mouth and thrust harder, emptying himself on a long grunt.

Their breath mingled as they stared at each other.

She slid the hair back from his forehead. “What was that?”

He shrugged. “You got me worked up.”

“I guess so.”

“Are you all right with that?”

“I’m pretty sure I didn’t hate it.”

He smiled. “Good.”

“As much fun as we’ve just had, I should get up and shower.”

He rolled off her and flopped to his back.

“Are you going to get some more rest?”

“Nah. I have stuff to do—phone calls to make.”

“Do you think we might be able to go out for a little while?” She glanced at the window and the sunlight beyond. “The festival’s still going on, then we could come back and take a nap.”

He rolled to his side, looking at her. “We should probably stay in.”

She barely suppressed a sigh at the thought of being cooped up again. “Okay.”

He took her hand. “I wish I could throw caution to the wind and tell you yes, but it’s better to stay close to the resort. We only have one more day.”

“Of course. You’re right.” She pulled up her pants and got off the bed, looking toward the burgundy curtains.

“How about a compromise?”

She lifted her brow. “Let me guess, it involves shower sex.”

He chuckled. “Not quite. I can’t take you around town, but there’s plenty of stuff to do right here at the resort. Why don’t you pick something and we’ll check it out.”

Her mood immediately brightened. “I saw an arcade in the pamphlet, or there’s the pool. I think there’s a bowling alley too.” She wanted to be busy doing something—at this point she hardly cared what it was. “We could get massages at the spa.”

“You pick.”

She wanted him to have fun too—the way they did the day they went tubing. “How about I kick your behind in the arcade, then show you how it’s done at the bowling alley? Loser buys lunch, so don’t forget your wallet.”

He sent her one of his slow grins. “Definitely sounds like a challenge.”

“Better believe it.”

He got out of bed and walked to where she stood. “Thanks for being cool with staying inside.”

“I don’t care whether we’re inside or out, just as long as we get out of this
room
.”

He pulled her against him, wrapping his arms at her waist. “I would give anything for this to be different.”

She studied the intensity in his eyes. Where was this coming from? “Of course you would. We both would. Tucker—”

His phone rang, cutting her off. “Why don’t you shower up? Then we’ll get out of here for awhile.”

She nodded, still puzzled as he turned and headed toward the table to answer.

Chapter 19

W
ren released the ball and watched the dark pink orb roll down the middle of the lane. “Come on. Come on,” she muttered as the ball stayed its course, then turned at the last second, landing in the gutter. “No! You’ve got to be
kidding
me.” She whirled as Tucker muffled a snort. “Shut up.”

“So close.” Tucker held up his thumb and index finger an inch apart. “Maybe next time,” he encouraged, then bit the inside of his cheek.

She narrowed her eyes in his direction, her competitive streak in full swing. He’d showered her with similar positive sentiments each time her ball did the same thing, which was
every
damn time. The score was 267 to zero. “Go bowl your damn ball so we can get out of here.” She plunked herself on the bench, fuming. Tucker had kicked her butt throughout the day—air hockey, skee ball, pool. The list went on and on.

He stood. “You still up for lunch after this? You’re buying, right?”

She glared. “It’s a good thing I’m too much of a lady to get up and kick your ass. You might outweigh me by a good hundred pounds, but I swear I could take you right about now.”

A slow grin spread across his gorgeous face. “You’re a damn scary woman, Cooke.”

She looked away, huffing, unwilling to be affected by his charm. “Do your thing already.”

“So is that a yes to lunch or no?”

Her gaze whipped up to his, and she couldn’t help but smile. “You’re obnoxious.”

“Just looking for a little clarification. I work best when I know what’s going on.”

She gave him the finger.

He burst out laughing and bent close to her face, capturing her cheeks in his hands. “I’m absolutely crazy about you.”

She gripped his wrists, staring in his eyes as butterflies fluttered in her stomach. The feeling was mutual, even though he was pissing her off.

“Let me finish up this frame, then you can buy me something to eat.”

She wrinkled her nose. “I guess a deal’s a deal.” She twisted his ear as he let her go.

“Ow!”

“Nobody likes a bragger,” she smirked.

“Vicious.” He walked away, rubbing the side of his head, picked up the black ball, and slid it down the lane. Ten pins knocked against the back, and he glanced at her, wiggling his brows.

And that was the end of that. Shaking her head, she looked down, hiding her smile.
Jerk
. Wren tugged off her borrowed socks and shoes and shoved her feet in her black flats.

Tucker joined her on the bench, saying nothing as he changed into his sneakers. “You ready?”

“Definitely. Where do you want to eat?”

“I’ll let you pick.”

“Winner’s choice, and you were certainly the winner today.” She swallowed the disappointment of annihilation as they dropped off their returns and Tucker pulled open the door for them.

“Aw, Cooke, you’re a winner in my book.” He tugged her against him, wrapping his arm around her waist.

“Nobody likes a brownnoser either.” She returned his embrace as they smiled at each other.

“How about the café? We could do soup and sandwiches.”

“That sounds really good, actually.”

“I agree.” He wrapped her tighter, bringing her closer. “You know, you were a pretty good sport.” He kissed the top of her head. “Kind of.”

She smiled again as he grinned. “No I wasn’t. I hate losing.”

“Huh, I couldn’t tell.”

She pinched his waist. “Despite losing every single game, I did have fun. It was so nice to get out and
do
something.”

“I’m sorry about the festival. I know you wanted to go.”

“This worked fine. And we stayed warm.”

They walked past a swank bar and lounge that was closed until evening. “Beautiful décor. Hints of urban chic while staying true to the rest of the resort’s rustic theme. I give the designer an A-plus.”

“Definitely nice.”

They entered the busy café and helped themselves to one of the booths with a spectacular view. A waitress immediately swooped in with menus.

“Good afternoon. I’m Mona. Can I get you something to drink?”

“Water, please,” Wren said.

“I’ll second that,” Tucker added with a friendly smile.

Mona blinked at Tucker. “I’ll, uh, I’ll be right back.”

Wren sent the pretty college-aged girl a wink, understanding Tucker’s potent affect fully, then studied the menu. “So many choices.” She flipped to the next page. “Everything sounds so good, but I think I’m going to have to go with the broccoli cheddar soup and a side salad.” She glanced up when Tucker didn’t respond.

The weary look was back as he stared out the window. She’d seen the tension and worry more than once throughout the morning as he scrutinized the people around them. Reaching over, she took his hand. “Hey, you, are you all right?”

“Yeah. Just taking in the view.”

“You’re worrying.” She squeezed his fingers gently.

“Nah.”

“I was under the impression we were safe here.”

“We still have to be careful, but we’re certainly better off here than at the house. There are video cameras all over the place and security on staff. If your stalker’s hanging around, he knows that.”

“And that’s a good thing.”

“Definitely. Video surveillance is always a deterrent.”

“So what’s on your mind, then?”

He held her gaze. “Nothing.”

She nodded, knowing that wasn’t true.

He opened the menu with his free hand. “Wow, hell of a selection.”

She’d just said so moments ago, but he’d been lost in his own thoughts.

“The Club sounds good.”

“Mmm.” She didn’t want to talk about sandwiches; she wanted him to tell her what was weighing so heavily on his mind.

Mona came back with two waters. “Are you ready to order?”

“You ready, Cooke?”

“Yes. I’ll take the broccoli cheddar soup in the bread bowl and a small salad with oil and vinegar on the side.”

“I’ll grab a club on whole wheat and take the salad as well.”

“I’ll be back with your order.”

“Thank you.” Wren stared out at the majestic mountains and bright blue sky. Tomorrow she would be staring at palm trees and the Pacific, and everything would be different. She would officially begin the process of closing Cooke Interiors’ doors, start packing and selling off her things, job searching, and slowly ease herself away from Tucker. A clean break was probably better, but they would go their own ways soon enough.

“What are you thinking about?”

“Home.”

“Then why are you frowning?”

She looked from the window to Tucker. “I didn’t know I was.”

“Definitely frowning, Cooke.” He pressed his finger between her brows. “Still are.”

She shrugged. “There are a lot of changes coming.”

“There doesn’t have to be.”

She ignored his comment. “Is the plane still set to leave at two tomorrow?”

“When I called them this morning they said we were good to go.” He slid his thumb over her knuckles. “What’s really up?”

She jerked her shoulders in another shrug. “Nothing.”

His brow rose.

She pulled her hand from his. “I guess I’m trying to figure out why I’m supposed to be an open book while you get to stay silent.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You’re eyes are troubled. Yesterday couldn’t have been easy, yet you say nothing.” She lowered her voice to a hissing whisper and leaned in as she glanced at the man and woman looking at her from the next table. “You get to wipe my tears and listen to my problems, but you handle yours alone.”

“How can you say that? I’ve leaned on you plenty over the last few nights.”

“That was then, this is now. You’ve been staring off all day and making small cryptic comments. The stuff with Staci…my stalker… This entire situation must be wearing.” She shook her head. “Just never mind.”

“No. Finish it up.”

“I want you to confide in me the way I confide in you. I want your trust, Tucker. I want you to trust in me the way I trust you. And not only when your troubles are so huge you’re about to fall apart. I want to know about the big stuff and the little things.”

“I do trust you, Cooke.” Holding her gaze he snagged her hand and gripped her fingers. “I
absolutely
do.”

“Sometimes I’m not so sure.”

“You want to know what I was thinking?”

“
Yes
.”

“I was thinking that I want all of this to be over. I want my sister’s case put to rest. I want you to be able to walk down the street without looking over your shoulder.”

She closed her eyes. “I want those things too. For both of us.”

He got up and moved to her side of the booth, scooting in until their legs bumped. He raised her chin, staring into her eyes. “Understand me, Cooke, when I tell you there’s no one I want more, no one I trust more than you. Got that?”

She nodded and kissed him, reveling in the ability to believe in what he said. “Me too.”

“Good.” He brushed his lips against hers. “I want to take you out tonight.”

She blinked at the abrupt change in conversation. “You do?”

“Mmhm. It’s our last night in Utah. We’re both getting dressed up. I’m bringing you to the fancy little lounge down the hall.”

She smiled at the idea. “Okay.”

“Um, sorry to interrupt.”

Wren pulled away as she and Tucker both looked at their waitress. “You’re fine.”

Mona put their meals down with several extra glances at Tucker.

“I’m actually going to move back to the other side.”

“Oh,” Mona slid his plate across the table. “Enjoy your lunch.”

“Thanks.” Tucker turned to Wren after Mona walked away and gave her another quick kiss. “We good here, Cooke?”

“Yes.”

“Then let’s eat.” He went back to his side, picked up a quarter of his sandwich, and bit in. “Mmm. Good stuff.”

Wren smiled as she blew on the creamy broccoli cheddar.

Tucker was taking another bite when his cellphone rang. He pulled his phone from the holder, glancing at the readout. “I’ve gotta take this.”

“Be my guest.” She took her first bite, savoring pure heaven.

“Campbell. Yeah. What’d you get? Are you sure?” Tucker steamed out a breath. “No. I thought I was onto something. I’ll let you know if I do.” He hung up and shoved his phone back in its holder.

Wren glanced up from her meal, covering Tucker’s hand with her own as he looked out the window.

He met her gaze, giving her a small smile, and picked up his sandwich, taking another bite.

She gave his fingers a gentle squeeze, enjoying the contentment of their last cozy lunch in the Park City mountains.

Tucker slid his finger along Wren’s naked shoulder as they sat huddled in the corner at the bar. She smelled like sin and looked even better in her sleeveless clinging dress, which stopped mid-thigh. Her impromptu stop-off at the resort’s boutique had been well worth the half-hour he’d followed her around as she perused her options, ultimately choosing the sapphire blue frock on the discount rack. And she’d done something fancy with her hair, twisting it all up so that her long, graceful neck was exposed.

He tucked a stray strand of wavy black behind her ear, bumping his Glock concealed beneath his sport coat. With every brush of his arm against his weapon he remembered Wren was still a target and their nightmare wasn’t over. He’d struggled to stay in the moment throughout the day, as he did now, while her pretty gray eyes held his and she fiddled with his fingers.

“This was a perfect idea. He’s very good.” She gestured to the man playing the piano across the elegantly decorated space.

“Yeah, he’s not bad.” During the two hours they’d sipped wine—or beer in his case—and nibbled at the sampler of hors d’oeuvres, he’d hardly paid attention to the notes flowing from the glistening baby grand. Candles glowed around them, and Wren smiled into his eyes, yet his mind stubbornly wandered to his tattered theories and phone calls with Ethan. JT Cartwright wasn’t their man. Flight records and credit card trails proved he’d been spending his time in Vegas or Los Angeles, working on a case. So now what? He and Wren were leaving in less than twenty-four hours, and they were no closer to a resolution. He wanted this over so she could move on with her life—so they could move on with
their
lives. Wren had certainly relaxed where their relationship was concerned, but she was expecting an ending once they landed in California. He had no intentions of saying goodbye. Eventually she would figure that out.

“…beer?” Wren’s brow rose as she stared at him.

“What was that?”

“I said I’m going to order one more half glass of wine. Do you want another beer?”

“No, this is good.” He scanned the room as he did periodically, studying faces, making certain the lounge guests were more preoccupied with their dates and dinner than with Wren.

“…up. Hello?”

His gaze whipped to hers. “I’m sorry?”

“What is up with you?”

“Nothing.”

“Do you want to go back to the room?”

He wanted to study his diagrams and play everything through again. “Do you?”

“Not really.”

“Then we’ll stay.”

A bartender he hadn’t seen before came from the kitchen, carrying plates. He set the food down in front of two guests, wandered down the long bar, stopping along the way to pour several draughts and talk with a few other patrons. Tucker frowned, trying to place him. He knew the clean-cut blonde. The man turned and their eyes met. Tucker grinned. “Nick Pellerin.”

“Well what do you know? Tucker Campbell.”

Tucker stuck out his hand. “How the hell are you, man?”

Nick grabbed hold, shaking firmly. “Not too bad. Not too bad.”

He and Nick had played many soccer, baseball, and flag football games during their summers in Utah. “Wren, this is Nick. Nick, Wren. He and I go way back.”

She smiled and shook his hand. “Nice to meet you.”

“You too.” He gave her a friendly wink, then turned his attention to Tucker. “So what brings you back this way? You still in California?”