Cooper's Woman (3 page)

“I tell you for sure, Coop, that's the prettiest woman I've ever seen,” Gil breathed appreciatively. “Every time she arrives in town activity grinds to a halt.” He motioned toward the other gawking men on the boardwalk.

Coop's attention swung back to the young woman who looked to be a decade younger than he was—and a hundred years less experienced in dealing with the hard knocks of life. Lovely though she was, she represented the hoity-toity aristocrats who hired him to do their dirty work and resolve their unpleasant problems. His wealthy clients didn't consider a man with his background their social equal. In their opinion, he was merely a second-class servant who was handy with a gun and whose tracking skills kept him dogging the steps of wanted outlaws.

When Elliot Webster strode from his mercantile shop to bow over the woman's hand, Coop frowned. “Who's the woman that Webster is slobbering over?”

“That is Alexa Quinn. Her father, Harold, is the territorial governor's right hand man and his most valued advisor. As you can plainly see, Elliot Webster is at the head of the line when it comes to offering to escort Alexa around Questa Springs. I suspect Webster is interested in marrying
her
and her
money.
”

“Not a bad combination,” Coop murmured.

And then it dawned on him who his real client probably was. No doubt, Mr. Chester worked for Harold Quinn, who wanted his potential son-in-law checked out thoroughly. Coop speculated that his true purpose was to find out how many harlots Webster kept at his beck and call and how much corruption was involved in his mercantile and ranch dealings. Harold Quinn wanted all the dirt he could dig up on Webster, just in case Alexa decided to marry him.

It made perfect sense now. The discreet and elegantly written notifications arriving at his office. A secret meeting in the upper canyon with Mr. Chester. It was understandable that the financial director of the whole damn territory would want to ensure his future son-in-law was not a crook who might become an embarrassment to the politician.

His thoughts wandered off when the enchanting female tittered and cooed at whatever Webster had said to her. No doubt, she was a spoiled, pampered tenderfoot whose world consisted of soirees, fine dining and expensive accommodations. She was everything he wasn't and had no desire to be. For that reason, he disliked what she represented, even while her outward beauty continued to dazzle him.

“Probably as shallow as a tub of bathwater,” he said under his breath.

Gil tossed him a quizzical glance. “Pardon?”

“Nothing. Where's the royal princess staying?”

“At Hampton Ranch. I heard that Alexa Quinn and Kate Hampton were best friends at boarding school in Albuquerque.”

Coop was sure he would have remembered this beguiling beauty if he'd seen her before. But then, they didn't travel in the same circles and Albuquerque was a damn sight larger than Questa Springs.

He was sorry to say that his thoughts scattered again when the voluptuous blonde pivoted away from Webster and swanned across the street. A short, wiry man of Mexican descent, who looked to be in his late twenties, followed ten paces behind her.

The bodyguard or chaperone, no doubt. Bodyguard, Coop decided when he noted the nasty looking, foot-long dagger strapped to the man's thigh. Apparently Harold Quinn didn't allow his dainty daughter to traipse around the rugged Sacramento Mountains without a competent protector watching her.

As Alexa approached, all dimpled smiles and radiant beauty, Coop forced himself not to change expression. He willfully battled down his unwanted physical attraction. In addition, he reminded himself that there were too many Alexa Quinns flitting around high society and he didn't like any of them.

“Good morning, Marshal,” she greeted Gil then nodded politely to Coop. “And good day to you, sir.” She glanced directly at his battered cane. “I'm sorry to see you are nursing an injury. I hope it isn't too serious.”

“Nothing I can't live with,” he replied as she swept past.

The alluring scent of her perfume infiltrated his nostrils. Coop took a step backward to prevent the fragrance from clogging his brain and smothering his good sense. Distracted though he was, something familiar niggled him. Maybe he
had
seen her before in Albuquerque. Maybe he had heard her voice somewhere. No, that was impossible, he told himself. He would have remembered everything about this woman.

With her expensive hat sitting at a jaunty angle on her head, twirling her parasol on her shoulder like a carousel, she sashayed into one of the boutiques. No doubt, her greatest interest in life was shopping. Here was the crowning example of the idle rich. She might be every man's fantasy, but he doubted she had a brain in her pretty blond head.

“Damn Webster's luck,” Gil grumbled enviously. “Can you imagine the possibility of marrying a woman like that and bedding down with her every night?”

“Nope,” Coop replied. “Wipe your mouth, Gil. You're drooling.”

Gil shook himself from his erotic thoughts. “Well, I won't keep you from your part-time job. Maybe we can have dinner and a drink tonight when we're both off duty.”

“Sounds good.” Coop cast one last glance at the boutique to note the bodyguard waiting outside with feet askew and arms crossed over his chest. As one servant of the affluent to another, Coop nodded and the Mexican nodded back.

There is one job I'd refuse to take,
Coop thought as he headed for the saloon. He wouldn't want to be Alexa Quinn's lackey. He sincerely hoped the bodyguard was well paid for his trouble.

As for a potential match between Harold Quinn's daughter and Elliot Webster, they probably deserved each other, he decided. Nevertheless, Mr. Chester had paid Coop considerable money to monitor Webster's activities. Coop would do his job to the best of his ability. The last thing he needed was the high and mighty Harold Quinn spreading word that he was an incompetent investigator.

 

Alexa expelled a sigh of relief while she sorted through the day dresses in the boutique. She had underestimated her reaction to Wyatt Cooper. In broad daylight and at close range he was even more arresting than he'd been while he loomed in the gathering shadows of sunset. His piercing green eyes, wavy raven hair and muscular physique combined to make an impressive package of masculinity. She had noticed how other women on the street had taken a wide berth around him, but there was no mistaking the speculative glances he received from them. He might be considered a hard-edged, dangerous gunfighter, the angel of doom to outlaws, but he was still a tempting specimen.

Completely off-limits,
she reminded herself sensibly. There could be no association between them whatsoever. Webster might become suspicious and she shouldn't have spoken to Coop on the street, but she hadn't been able to resist. From now on, she would avoid encounters with him.

A curious frown knitted her brow when she glanced out the window to see Elliot Webster striding into Valmont Saloon. She'd like to be a fly on the wall and hear what Coop and Webster had to say to each other, if anything. But she quelled her curiosity and reminded herself that tomorrow she'd have a chance to familiarize herself with Webster's home. He had invited her to supper, as she'd hoped he would. As for tonight, Kate would be joining her in town to dine at one of the local restaurants.

Alexa sighed impatiently. She was anxious to hear what the townsfolk had to say about Webster. The more she could learn about him the better she would understand him. With that in mind, she turned a smile on the female proprietor of the boutique and made a few casual inquiries.

 

Coop had been on the job less than five minutes when Elliot Webster sauntered inside, looking arrogant and defensive at once. Out of pure orneriness, Coop plunked down the nameplate that said, Wyatt Cooper, Bartender and Bouncer on Duty. Provided by the efficient Mr. Chester, no doubt.

“Need a drink, friend?” Coop asked cordially.

Webster nodded his blond head and requested a shot of the best whiskey in the house—no surprise there. After he downed it in one gulp, he stared straight at Coop and said, “There's an unspoken rule in society that states that men with your reputation don't associate with women like my soon-to-be fiancée, Alexa Quinn. No offense intended, of course. I'm just reminding you of that fact.”

Better men than Elliot Webster had tried—and failed—to put Coop in his place. He had no respect for the rich, for they seemed to think they were entitled to privileges that he wasn't.

“And you are?” Coop asked, as if he didn't know.

He drew himself up to full stature and tilted his chin to an aloof angle. “Elliot Webster. I own and operate the town's most profitable dry goods store.”

And you gouge miners, ranchers and cowboys to feather your nest, every chance you get,
Coop thought.

“I also own a ranch outside of town and sell livestock to the forts and Indian reservations,” he boasted proudly.

Coop suspected this man was cheating the soldiers and Indian tribes to increase his profit. The bastard.

“Just for the record,” Coop said, “I didn't strike up a conversation with your soon-to-be-fiancée. She spoke to me first.”

“Obviously she had no idea who she was talking to.”

“Obviously.” Coop forced a smile and envisioned himself planting his fist in Webster's jaw. The man was an ass.

To his surprise, Webster leaned close to request another drink then said, “I wonder if I might hire you to check my neighbors' ranching practices. A few of my cattle have gone missing lately.”

Coop suspected it was probably the other way around.

Three jobs at once? he mused. That might be an interesting twist. Mr. Chester wouldn't like it, but he could work for the man he'd come to investigate. “You mean at night when I'm off duty at the saloon? This is gravy money. I'm not giving it up.”

“Yes, at night. That's when the rustling takes place,” Webster replied sarcastically.

“Could be some of your own hired men,” Coop speculated as he refilled Webster's shot glass.

“Doubt it. They are well paid to be loyal. You will be, too.”

This was too perfect to pass up, thought Coop. If he were on Webster's payroll, he'd have an excuse to come and go from the ranch without inviting suspicion.

Coop shrugged. “Sure. Why not? As long as I don't have to get into a foot race with rustlers. My leg won't hold up.”

Webster grinned as he straightened away from the bar. “Just shoot them from horseback. I hear you're good at that. And not to worry, the city marshal won't arrest you.”

When Webster strutted off, Coop frowned warily. He was going to be disappointed if Gil Henson was on the take and had been paid to look the other way when Webster dealt severely with his competitors at Hampton, Barrett and Figgins Dry Goods Store.

Coop discarded his pensive thoughts when one of the calico queens sashayed over to introduce herself. Now this was the kind of female Coop was familiar with. This uncomplicated woman offered and expected no more than a moment's pleasure for a price. Women like Alexa Quinn were like porcelain dolls in shop windows. Untouchable. Unattainable. Too delicate to associate with a rough-edged man like him.

So why was he giving Alexa Quinn a second thought? Damned if he knew. Coop smiled rakishly and devoted his full attention to the buxom brunette named Polly Sanders.

L
ater that evening Miguel Santos stared accusingly at Alexa. “You poisoned me!”

“Don't be ridiculous,” she replied as she tucked the quilt under his quivering chin while he lay sprawled on the bed. “Why would I do such a thing?”

“So you can tramp about without me there to tell you that it's too risky. I—” He moaned miserably and battled to prevent himself from losing his supper.

Alexa patted her friend's shoulder consolingly, then surveyed the hotel room she had rented when he became ill a half hour earlier. Hurriedly she walked over to fetch a washcloth then dipped it in water so she could wipe Miguel's clammy face. He looked as peaked as a dark-skinned man could get. Furthermore, his expression was as sour as his upset stomach.

“I did not poison you, Miggy,” she insisted, using the nickname he had acquired as a child.

While she blotted his face, someone tapped lightly on the door. “Who is it?” Alexa called out.

“Kate.” She swept into the room without waiting permission and hovered over Miguel. Her thick-lashed brown eyes were filled with concern. “You poor man. Is there anything I can get for you to make you more comfortable?”

“No,
señorita,
but thank you for your kind offer. I will live…I hope.”

Kate glanced at the gold-plated watch pinned to her belt. “We need to ride to the ranch before dark, Lexi. There is always the risk of bandits and rustlers in the area. Papa lost five head of cattle last week.”

“Go with her, Lexi,” Miguel beseeched. “I'll be fine.”

“I'm staying with Miguel,” Alexa told her friend. “You have your chaperone for your protection. Miguel and I will ride out to the ranch tomorrow when he's back on his feet.”

“Are you sure about this?” Kate questioned hesitantly as she backed toward the door.

“Absolutely. I want to be close by so I can check on Miguel.”

“I'm concerned about you,” Kate said. “First you strike up a conversation on the street with that hired gun that everybody is whispering about and now you plan to stay in town when Miguel can't defend you.”

“I believe those types prefer to be called detectives or investigators.” Alexa tossed Miguel a silencing glance so he wouldn't chime in and tell Kate that he was worried about her reckless encounter with Coop. “Furthermore, I spoke to the town marshal on the street at the same time and it would have been rude not to speak to Mr. Cooper when he was standing right there.”

“There are certain rules we're supposed to observe when it comes to our social class,” Kate reminded her dourly. “Never mind that I dislike that one person can't be kind to another without inviting rumor and gossip. My father harps on the subject constantly and I heard Elliot Webster muttering when you paused to greet the marshal and the gunslinger.”

Alexa gnashed her teeth. Elliot's snobbery was another of his annoying flaws. The man was lousy with them. Too bad that Kate's father was also prejudiced.

Kate checked her timepiece again then glanced back at Miguel. “Well, I should be going. Papa is so overprotective that if I'm not home before dark he'll send out a search party.”

“As well he should,” Miguel murmured weakly. “If I could, I would see you home safely.”

“You are so sweet, Miguel.” Kate surged forward to brush her hand over his forehead. “You have always been wonderful to me. Alexa is so lucky to have you.”

“Which is why I intend to stay at the hotel until he's feeling better,” Alexa remarked.

She glanced speculatively at Kate then down at Miguel.

“I don't trust you here,” Miguel said after Kate left.

Alexa tried to look properly affronted. “That doesn't speak highly of your abilities as a tutor. You taught me to take care of myself. Are you saying that you failed and I'm helpless?”

“I'm saying that you're too daring for your own good….” His voice trailed off momentarily and he grabbed his belly when another cramp clenched his abdomen. “Go to your own room and stay in it,” he wheezed. “I don't want you to see me so miserable.”

Alexa pressed a kiss to his forehead. “I'll be back to check on you.”

“Don't do anything stupid in the meantime,” he demanded sickly.

Deciding that she would have the local physician check on Miguel, she hurried off. Although she wasn't responsible for what was ailing Miguel—as he accused—she did intend to take advantage of the situation. She wanted to know what Elliot did after he closed up shop for the evening. Did he frequent saloons? Hurry back to his ranch? Alexa intended to observe his after-hours routine.

Alexa paid a visit to the doctor then tramped off to position herself in the alley beside Webster's mercantile shop. She only had to wait a quarter of an hour before Elliot locked the door and strode down the street. Enjoying her new career as a detective, Alexa darted down the alley, following at an inconspicuous distance.

 

Coop had been off duty at the saloon for over an hour and had dined with Gil at one of the restaurants. He was on his way to the livery stable to fetch Bandit when he spotted Webster—and the fancy-dressed female lurking in the alley. Coop was both surprised and amused at Alexa Quinn's daring. She was amazingly swift of foot and effective at lurking in the shadows so Webster wouldn't realize he was being followed.

Although Coop hadn't given the socialite credit for processing much thought in that pretty blond head of hers, she wasn't as naive as she let on. Coop veered into the alley to follow the woman who was trailing her soon-to-be-fiancé—or so Webster claimed. When Webster scurried across the street toward the dimly lit brothel on the edge of town, Alexa hiked up her cumbersome skirts and darted toward the side window of the brick building that housed Lily's Pleasure Resort.

“See anything interesting?” Coop whispered as he stepped up beside Alexa.

She yelped in surprise and clutched her chest. “You scared ten years off my life. What the blazes are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same question,” he pointed out.

He grinned at the pinched expression on her shadowed face. Her clipped tone of voice and her unconventional antics offered him insight into this woman's complex personality. She didn't seem to fit the expected mold. Which was too bad because he really didn't want to like this wealthy heiress.

“Sorry, Mr. Cooper. I didn't mean to snap at you.”

“No problem. But I'm dying to know why a proper lady is playing Peeping Tom at a bordello window. You might get far more of an education than you bargained for…unless you like to watch.”

“You are an ass,” she sputtered as she brushed past him.

He wasn't sure if her elbow accidentally jabbed him in the belly or if she had done it on purpose. He suspected the latter.

“I only followed Elliot to confirm what I expected to be true,” she said as he fell into a limping stride behind her. “Like all of my other suitors, who were supposedly smitten with me, Elliot is undoubtedly after my social connections and my money. He will never be faithful. But whether he likes me at all has nothing to do with anything. I only wanted to be sure we were both playing by the same rules.”

Coop clucked his tongue. “So cynical for one so young. I didn't expect that.”

When Alexa stopped short Coop did, too. The light from the street lamp illuminated her enchanting face and highlighted her soft, kissable mouth. Lust sucker-punched him so hard that he staggered back a step.

Damn! Coop didn't recall other women making such a fierce and immediate impact on him. And hell, he could list a score of reasons why he should keep his distance from Alexa. Yet, he couldn't stop himself from gazing down into those incredible blue eyes and craving a taste of those honeyed lips.

“And what of you, sir? What do you see when you look at me? Dollar signs? Invitations to high society's soirees?”

A slow smile worked its way across his mouth. “All I want is to see you naked with me,” he told her frankly.

That should scare the dickens out of her and send her scuttling off, frightened and embarrassed, he predicted. Which would guarantee that she would never allow herself to be alone in the dark with him again. Then he wouldn't be tempted and tormented with the want of this forbidden female.

To his stunned amazement, she met his rakish grin and didn't recoil in shock and indignation. “You would hang the money and the prestige?”

“From the tallest tree in the territory,” he assured her. “No reason you shouldn't give good ole Webster the same lack of fidelity he's practicing right now.”

She chuckled when he waggled his eyebrows suggestively. “You are an unabashed scoundrel, Mr. Cooper.”

“Coop,” he corrected. “An
honest
scoundrel.”

She studied him pensively. “You consider appeasing your lust more important than wealth and status?”

“Tonight I do,” he teased playfully.

Then the most astonishing thing happened. Alexa Quinn, who was rather tall for a woman—perhaps five feet eight inches, give or take—pushed up on tiptoe and pressed those dewy, heart-shaped lips against his. Coop stood frozen to the spot. His eyes flew wide-open and he stared incredulously at her while he accepted the quick taste of her kiss. Her shapely body brushed against his masculine contours and white-hot sensations bombarded him from every direction at once. He'd never been lightning struck but he was pretty sure this was what it felt like.

She dropped back on her heels and gave him that killer smile that cut dimples in her cheeks. “Good thing my chaperone is under the weather this evening,” she murmured. “I would have missed out on this grand adventure.”

“What's wrong with him?” Coop questioned, his voice wobbly, despite his attempt to appear unaffected.

“He claims I poisoned him.”

She pivoted to amble down the street.

“Did you?” he called after her.

She glanced over her shoulder. There was a flicker of mischief in her gaze. “Poison Miguel? My childhood friend and companion? Really, Mr. Cooper—”

“Just Coop,” he reminded her. He studied her thoughtfully, fascinated by the contradictions that he saw in this breathtakingly beautiful woman.

“Well then, good night, Coop.”

“You didn't answer my question,” he reminded her.

She tossed him another impish smile as she passed beneath the second street lamp. Then she was gone and he was left to wonder if Alexa had doctored her bodyguard's food or drink so she could dart off in the night to do as she pleased.

Right there and then, Coop made a mental note not to eat or drink anything that passed this siren's hands…just in case.

 

Two hours after Alexa's encounter with Coop she checked on Miguel and was relieved to find him sleeping comfortably. The bottle sitting on the nightstand indicated the physician had paid a visit and prescribed medication to soothe Miguel's stomach.

When Alexa returned to her own room, she doffed her gown. She smiled impishly, remembering her conversation with the ruggedly attractive detective. Matching wits with Coop had been more fun than she'd had with a man in years. Her longtime friendship with Miguel being the exception. He was like the brother she never had.

Coop had teased her and tried to shock her rather than bowing and scraping, attempting to win her favor. She had teased him right back, especially when he quizzed her about poisoning Miguel. Which of course she hadn't. Miguel was sensitive to certain foods but he refused to consider the possibility because the reactions weren't long-lived or serious. She'd known when he'd ordered the main dish smothered with a sauce containing pecans and almonds at dinner that he'd be down for the count.

She'd never been able to convince him that something as simple as eating walnuts caused his stomach ailments. Therefore, his temporary illness was self-inflicted. He couldn't exactly call that
her
fault, now could he? She had mentioned the possibility years ago, but he refused to believe it and she had stopped bringing it to his attention.

Her smile faded as she brushed her fingertips over her lips, remembering the impulsive kiss she had bestowed on Coop. She knew she had no business making the slightest contact with Coop, for fear of complicating this case. Not only had she struck up a conversation with him on the street that morning, but she had also kissed him that night. Perhaps she'd been caught up in the exciting intrigue of following Elliot and talking her way out of the situation with Coop. Maybe that had led to her impulsive embrace.

Although her father forbade her from taking an active role in the investigation, she had discovered that she
thrived
on the challenge and adventure. She had also experienced the most delicious tingles of desire when she brushed against Coop's masculine body and tasted his sensuous lips. That kiss in the dark was guaranteed to incite erotic dreams tonight—