Jill Shalvis - Get a Clue

Oh boy.

He hadn't done anything with the towel she'd tossed him. Completely comfortable in his own skin, he stood there naked Actually, he wasn't just standing there, he was coming coward her, then stroking a long, wet strand of hair behind her ear. "You're looking pretty relaxed."

"Funny how an orgasm does that."

"Yeah." He didn't look nearly as relaxed. "Funny."

Don't ask, she told herself. Don't. But this was Cooper, and for some reason, she couldn't turn away. "What's the matter?"

"That rejuvenated you, having wild shower sex."

"It would have rejuvenated anyone."

"Really? So why do I feel more frustrated now than before?"

Not wanting to face the answer to that, she shrugged and began to dry off.

But he waited her out, standing in the doorway when she would have breezed on out. "Why did you cry at the end?"

Her gaze whipped up to his. "I didn't."

"You did."

Embarrassed, she looked away. "I don't know."

"Is it because you're not used to feeling as much as you did?"

Hammer on the nail. "It's just that…" Oh, the hell with it. "I really liked it," she admitted in a whisper.

"I know." This was accompanied by a grin. "I was there."

She stared at his chest, trying to find the right words. "I want to say something that's going to sound weird." Lifting her head, she met his gaze. "You're nice to me."

"You're easy to be nice to."

He always knew what to say

"I came here to clear my head." Lifting a shoulder, he shot her a crooked smile. "I thought maybe I'd meet a few snow bunnies, have a great time."

"I can put on a ski hat if that would please you."

"Only if that's all you put on."

She snorted at that, and got a fleeting smile from him.

"I thought being here," he said, "that I'd feel better about walking away from my work. My life."

Her flippancy vanished in the face of his quiet pain. "Oh, Cooper."

"I thought I'd go home with the answers in my head of what I want to do with myself."

"Do you have them?" she asked. "The answers?"

"Not a one that you'd want to hear."

Her heart skipped a beat, and she went very still. "What does that mean?"

He sighed, ran his hands through his wet hair. The muscles and tendons stood out in bold relief with his arms lifted, and her belly quivered. When she was around him, everything within her quivered.

She wanted him. Still. Again.

"Remember when we talked about love?" he asked. "You said you didn't believe in it."

"I remember," she said tightly.

"Well, I do. I believe in it, Breanne. I want it."

Oh, God.

"All the time I thought it was my job screwing with my head. And in some ways, it was." He came close again. "But 1 can move out of vice and not have to go under for months at a time. I can work regular shifts patrolling, or even going the detective route, and still have a life. I want a life, Breanne. And in that life, I want-"

"Don't," she said, setting her fingers to his lips. "Don't say it."

"You."

"Oh, my God."

He just looked at her.

Her throat tightened, her eyes burned. And her heart, God, her heart. It took one big tumble. "It's only been a day."

Reaching up, he pulled her fingers from his mouth, keeping her hand in his. "It's been three, and those were pretty accelerated, intense days."

"But it takes years to get to know someone," she said, sounding desperate.

"I'm game."

She stared at him. He was game. "I wrote 'no more men' in my journal. You saw it. It's in stone."

"There's always Delete''

If only she could really erase some of her mistakes. "It's my path."

"Rewrite the path." He smiled. "That's the beauty of electronics."

She swallowed hard. "You sure seem to have a lot of answers."

"You do, too."

She rubbed her temples and wished that were true. "I'm hungry. Starving.'"

"No, you're scared and you have to think," he said. But then he stepped back and finally began to dry off that mouthwatering body. "It's okay. You go eat. You go do what you have to do."

Yeah, she would. Like a chicken, she took her out and moved to the door. There she glanced back. "Probably in the real world we'd have nothing in common."

"Date me and find out."

"Date?" After what they'd done, dating seemed so… tame. "Men say they want to be with me," she said softly. "But they lie."

"I don't. You know that by now."

She shook her head. "Cooper. I don't know what to do with you."

A small smile touched his lips. "Yeah, you do. You just haven't faced it yet."

Keep him. That's what her heart wanted to do. Take this thing where it might go.

But her brain was saying- are you kidding? Run like hell.

Since she'd decided never to trust her heart again, she went with her brain, and ran like hell.

Breanne stepped out of the suite, then turned back and stared at the door. She let out a slow breath. Cooper turned her upside down and inside out, and when she was with him she didn't know whether she was coming or going.

Mostly coming, she admitted.

Her legs wobbled at the thought. They'd had some damn amazing sex. She'd never been with anyone who could take her right out of herself and then put her back, making her feel like a new woman, a better one. When she was with him, she didn't have self-doubts. She didn't wonder what he thought of her. She didn't do anything but be herself.

And he seemed to like that woman. A heady experience.

At the bottom of the stairs, Dante appeared right out of the woodwork, and still dizzy with thoughts of Cooper, she nearly fell over. "How do you do that?" she demanded.

A ghost of a smile touched his lips. "I'd tell you, but then I'd have to kill you."

He was just kidding. Probably.

"Bad joke," he said.

"Really bad." She put a hand to her chest, wondering if the butler had a side career going-murdering obnoxious managers and equally obnoxious guests.

Shelly came up behind Dante and smiled. "Hey. You okay?"

Breanne nodded at her new friend. And Shelly had become a friend. She wouldn't fall for a man who could-who would-

No. No, she wouldn't.

But how to explain the bloody gloves beneath Dante's bed? Or the bloody towel in Shelly's kitchen? "I just thought I'd try to get something to eat."

"No problem," Shelly said. "I'll bring you something to the great room? Or maybe the library? Where will you be?"

Breanne didn't feel comfortable going anywhere alone- she was afraid of what else she'd find. Before she could work up a good panic over that thought, Cooper came down the stairs and stood at her side, settling a big, warm hand on the small of her spine.

Such a small gesture, really, and yet… yet it meant so much.

"What's the snow situation?" Cooper asked Dante.

"We're about halfway. We could be out in a few more hours."

"Just in time for nightfall," Cooper said, sounding resigned.

Dante nodded.

"Could you find your way to town in the dark?" Cooper asked him.

"It'd be a suicide run. Frigid temps, bears…"

"Bears?" Breanne didn't like the sound of this. "I don't want anyone to be out there with the bears."

"And believe me, no one wants to be," Dante told her, the big, tough guy letting out a shiver.

"If we kept moving-" Coopet started.

"I'd rather walk the streets of my gang-infested childhood than snowmobile through the woods tonight."

Cooper sighed. "So we all stay another night."

"Another night," Dante agreed.

Shelly bit her lower lip, and Dante set his hand on her shoulder. "It's going to be okay," he said.

Cooper nodded.

Breanne only hoped they were right.

***

Everyone met in the great room and snacked on whatever Shelly was able to drum up. Stranded as they were, the lines between staff and guest and wrongly booked guest had blurred.

Or maybe that was because of the unintentional bonding that had occurred when they'd all found themselves staring at a dead body.

Breanne didn't know, but she liked having everyone in the same place, where she knew that no one was off getting… well, offed.

Despite the relaxation of duties, in some ways, their positions here in the house still very much defined them. Shelly rushed to serve everyone. Dante handled the fire. Lariana kept straightening things up in the already perfectly straightened room. Patrick didn't do much, but he kept his tool belt on and creaked when he walked.

"We really need a new generator," he said to no one in particular.

"Maybe it's operator error," Dante suggested.

"Bugger off."

Dante laughed. "Come on. We all know you hate being the fix-it guy. The wicked witch is dead, dude. Do something else now."

"Like…?"

"Like what really gets you going," Dante said, as if this was the easiest thing in the world to decide. "How about your painting stuff?"

Patrick looked over at Lariana, who smiled. "Told ya," she said softly. "Do it, Patrick. Go for your dreams. Show your paintings."

"It was you," Cooper said to Patrick. "You painted that saw blade. The one that went up the day we found Edward."

"I hung it," Lariana said. "Patrick didn't want me to, but I think the guests that come here would love to see what he can do. Sunshine doesn't have any galleries because it's not a touristy type of place, but just a little bit south of here, closer to Lake Tahoe, there are tons of shops all around the lake where he could show his work. Should show it."

Patrick lifted a shoulder. "Maybe."

"You're good, Patrick," Shelly told him. "And your idea of painting on antique tools is unique. You really should go for it."

Patrick clinked his way to the fire, hunkering before it to jam the poker into the red-hot coals, stirring up the fire with a bit more strength than necessary.

"He's dead, Patrick," Lariana said to his ramrod-straight spine. "No more worrying."

"Worrying about what?" Cooper asked.

No one answered.

"Come on." Cooper looked at them. "You're going to hold back now?"

Shelly and Lariana gave each other a long look.

Patrick stabbed at the fire again, making sparks leap and jump.

Dante remained broodingly silent.

Cooper shook his head in disgust.

"You know what?" Shelly surged to her feet. "It's late. And I'm really tired." She didn't look at any of them as she moved to the door. '"Night."

Lariana shot Dante a worried look, then started to follow, but Dante stopped her. "I'll go," he murmured.

Lariana nodded, then pulled him in for a hug. When he was gone, she said, "It is late, and we're all overtired. Patrick?"

Seeming surprised to be so publicly summoned, he jerked to his feet and moved to the door with her, looking for all the world like an eager puppy.

"Call if you need anything," Lariana said to Breanne and Cooper.

When it was just the two of them, Cooper looked at the empty doorway. "That was fun." He stood up and held out a hand to Breanne. "Come on. There's even more fun to be had."

Her heart stopped. Parts tingled. "What kind of fun?"

"Everyone's going to sleep. Everyone but us."

The thought of "us" made her stomach sort of tremble, but not in a bad way. Oh God, she was getting used to the word us.

When had that happened?

Everything had been so simple a week ago. Sure, she'd been in an engagement that had been just a joke, but she'd had no major losses. No big disappointment-Well, maybe a few.

But she could have lived with them, because she'd never seen a dead body, she'd never lived in a haunted house, she'd never feared for her very life.

Now she knew what all those things felt like, as well as true, gut-wrenching fear for another person she truly cared about. Maybe staying one more night wasn't the end of the world. She could use it to show him how much she cared.