Head Over Heels (9 page)

She quit singing to stare at him. “Kody knows about refrigeration, too?”

Coop hitched a shoulder.

“Oh, this is too good.” She touched her fingertips to his wrist when he slid the tray across the bar. “Thanks.” Hopping off the stool, she reached for her order. “Hey, I just realized something. We're twinsies tonight—our sweaters are nearly the exact same shade of red.”

His gaze went straight to her meager cleavage where it rose above the low scoop of her shell, then traveled leisurely up her chest, her throat, her face, to finally meet her eyes. “Oh, yeah. We're a regular Boobsie and Bobsie.”

Veronica felt heat rise to her cheeks, but she looked him straight in the eye and raised one eyebrow, a trick that used to infuriate Crystal. “Boobsie and Bobsie, huh? So which one would that make you?” Without awaiting an answer, she picked up the tray and walked away.

Saving Kody's beer for last, she delivered her three other tables. The women in the group at the second table commented favorably on the lack of smoke in the bar, and when she explained about the new purification system, it started a brief, friendly conversation. Excusing herself a few moments later, she tucked a generous tip into her cash box, collected several new orders, then walked over to Kody's table.

Setting his beer down in front of him, she said without preamble, “Coop tells me you know something about refrigeration. Is he right?”

“Yeah.”

“Now, this is what I call fortuitous timing.” She flashed him a smile. “Do you plan to be here for a while? That is, if I call a friend to come right over, would you talk with her? She's on the decorating committee for the Winter Festival and we've just spent the afternoon wracking our brains trying to figure out a way to keep ice sculptures from melting—or if it's economically feasible to even try to make them last for the entire three days.”

Kody leaned back in his seat and looked up at her. “I plan to stick around for a while, but I probably can't give your friend more than a couple of general ideas off the top of my head. I'd have to put some thought into the logistics of such a project.”

“Works for me.” She pushed upright. “I'll go call her right now.”

 

Marissa nearly didn't answer the phone when it rang. For the first evening in ages, both kids were gone at the same time and she had the house entirely to herself. With a sigh, however, she paused the VCR and picked up the wireless receiver she'd left within reach. It could be about Riley or Dessa, and she'd forgotten to turn on the answering machine to vet her calls. “Hello?”

Veronica's excited voice demanded that she find a sitter for Riley and get her rear down to the Tonk. Marissa was about to decline when her friend added,
“I've got a guy down here who knows something about refrigeration, Riss.”

“No kidding?” She sat upright. This could be the answer to some of the questions they'd raised during their brainstorming session this afternoon. “Riley's spending the night with Jeremy Witmore. I'll be right down.”

She'd grabbed her coat and was headed for the garage when she caught sight of herself in the utility room mirror and stopped cold. She was going out in public, for heaven's sake—she could do better than this. She about-faced and ran upstairs to exchange her comfy sweatsuit for a pair of Levi's and a hand-knit novelty sweater. Then she swiftly unbraided her hair and dragged a brush through it, dashed on some mascara, and rubbed a touch of blush into her cheekbones. She applied her lipstick on her way to the car, and less than ten minutes later was pushing through the Tonk's front door.

She spotted Ronnie at the bar and walked over to join her. Just as she approached, a man got up from the stool next to her friend, tossed a couple of bills on the bar, and walked away, nodding to her as they passed.

“Now, that's what I call excellent timing,” she said as she slid onto the seat he'd just vacated.

“Marissa!” Veronica leaned over to give her a one-armed hug. Settling back on her stool, she looked her over. “Wow, you look great. I love your hair.”

“You're looking mighty hot yourself. Red lipstick, Ronnie? What's the occasion?”

“Nothing special. I just had a sudden urge for a little change.” She raised her voice. “Barkeep! Bring my friend here a drink, will you?” A crooked smile quirk
ing up one corner of her mouth, she dug her elbow into Marissa's side.

Coop sauntered down from the opposite end of the bar. He picked up the cash on the bar, then wiped down the area with a clean towel. “Evening, Marissa.” He gave her an appreciative look. “You're looking particularly pretty tonight. How are you?”

“After a compliment like that, I
feel
particularly fine, thank you very much. How about you? Tonight's crowd not working you too hard?”

“Nah, I'm doing all right.” He slid a paper coaster onto the bar in front of her. “What can I get you?”

“I'll have a glass of the house white.”

“One Chardonnay for the pretty lady, coming right up.” He turned and headed for the middle of the bar.

“‘For the pretty lady.'” Marissa grinned at Ronnie. “Isn't he just the sweetest?”

“That's the word I would've chosen to describe him, all right.” Veronica's brow developed a tiny pucker as she looked down to where he was selecting a wine glass. “Just sweeter 'n' a lemon drop.”

“I suspect you're humoring me, but he is. And would you look at the size of those hands?” Marissa observed him dreamily. “Do you suppose everything's proportionate?” She turned back to Veronica and grinned. “There's a thought, huh? I bet
he
could reach a girl's G spot.”

Ronnie squirmed on her stool for an instant, crossing and recrossing her legs. Marissa watched her prop her chin in her hand and silently stare at the hands under discussion, high color blazing in her cheeks as she watched them efficiently assemble three drinks at once. “I don't think I have a G spot,” she finally said,
turning her head to give Marissa a wry look. “I used to, but it must have atrophied from lack of use.”

“Oh, boy, I hear that. In fact, I'll see your hard luck story and raise it with the small town card. At least if an opportunity arises for you, the entire world and its brother doesn't have to know about it. Even if I could find a guy to scratch my itch, everyone up on the Bluff would probably be talking about it before the last moan had faded.”

Veronica laughed. “Okay, you win. Your sex life is even more pitiful than mine.”

“And isn't
that
depressing.”

“Isn't it, though? And since I have no desire to lose the best mood I've been in since I barely
remember
when, I'm going to change the subject. I wish you could've seen the girls tonight, Mare. They did the dress-up thing and, God, they were cute. Do you remember when we used to do that?” Veronica scooped her hair behind her ear and gave Marissa a smile. “You know, I've never felt any particular urge to procreate, but there was something about the continuity of seeing Lizzy and your daughter doing the kind of things you and I once did that really got to me. I took a bunch of pictures, so I'll have some copies made for you when I get them developed.”

A glass of wine was placed in front of Marissa, but when she looked up to thank Cooper, his attention was elsewhere. His gaze was all over Ronnie, and Marissa straightened smartly in her seat. Hello! What was this? A smile curled her lips, for the way Ronnie had squirmed at the mention of Coop's hands suddenly took on a whole new meaning.

Well, well, well. With only the slightest twinge, she
relinquished her vague fantasy of starting something with him. The moment Coop collected money for her drink and left to answer a summons at the other end of the bar, however, she turned to demand what was going on. But Ronnie slid from the stool and picked up the tray of drinks Coop had delivered along with Marissa's wine. “Come on,” she said. “I'll introduce you to Kody before I serve these.”

Marissa followed her. She had a dozen questions buzzing in her brain, but before she could form even one, Veronica stopped at a table. “Rissa,” she said, “this is Kody. Kody, I'd like you to meet my friend Marissa.”

And Marissa took one look at the man lounging back in his chair, with his long legs stretched out under the little table, and every thought in her head vaporized.

W
HEN
C
OOP CAME OUT OF THE STORAGE ROOM A
short while later and saw Sandy standing by the bar rubbing the small of her back, he headed straight for her. “Finally got a minute of down time, huh?” he said as he ducked under the pass-through. He regarded her genially when she started fussing with her cash box. “Take a break, Sandy—I don't expect you to be busy every minute. You want a club soda?”

“Thanks; that'd be great.” Looking pleased that he'd noticed her drink of choice, she climbed onto a vacant stool. She sat in a way that emphasized her generous breasts and checked him out from beneath her lashes.

He poured club soda over ice and handed her the glass. “I was just in the back room looking for more vodka,” he said conversationally. “Now, I never knew
Crystal, obviously, but I gotta tell you, organized she wasn't.”

Sandy snorted. “No foolin'. Things have been in a lot better shape since you've taken over.”

Coop shrugged. “I'm not really in charge. It's Veronica's place.”

“Sure, but she's smart enough to let you run it. Be grateful she's not as big a flake as her sister. Crystal spent most of her time in here flirting. She was much better at talking up men than taking care of business.”

“I heard you talking about her the other night.” Coop propped his arms on the bar and leaned toward her, giving her an easy smile. “Not the brightest bulb, I take it?”

“Hardly.”

“So, do
you
think somebody was helping her play Eddie?”

“I actually asked her, but she wouldn't say yes or no. She just gave me one a them—whataya call 'ems—coy smiles and said that was for her to know.”

It would've all depended on how she'd played it, Coop mused when the waitress returned to work a few minutes later. The only thing Crystal had truly needed in order to get almost anything she wanted from his brother was Lizzy. But if she'd been pulling some elaborate con instead of using her daughter as a bargaining chip—well, from everything he'd ever heard about her, she hadn't been bright enough to do that on her own. So he had to figure out who might have been helping her. If she'd been seeing anyone, Sandy hadn't heard about it. Still, it gave him a direction to pursue, and that made him smile.

But watching Veronica's butt wiggle in time with the Dixie Chicks as she swiped down the last of her tables at closing time a short while later thrust him right back in the same lousy mood he'd been in all evening.

Big surprise. He'd given a great deal of thought to this crazy attraction she held for him, and with the methodical precision he'd been renowned for in Company C he'd decided to take a giant step back from it. Distancing himself was a good, solid decision, and it'd held together just fine, too—until she'd come waltzing in here tonight wearing a pair of sprayed-on jeans and that snug, almost too-thin-to-be-considered-a-sweater-set that molded the most beguiling little tits he'd ever laid eyes on. To add insult to injury, the scoop-necked shell afforded him here-and-gone glimpses of a cleavage so sweet and delicate, the mere thought of it, even now when it was safely out of sight, had him reaching down to discreetly adjust himself.

He dragged his gaze away from the swing of her round little rump and stared blindly at the tally in his hand. Damn. He didn't get it. Usually he went for breasts that were big enough to overflow his hands. Those little cupcakes of Ronnie's would barely even snuggle into his palms, let alone give his fingers something to hang on to. Yet he wanted to see them,
feel
them, so bad he could practically taste it.

Licking his lips, he scowled. Because tasting her was something else he wanted to do.

“Did I cash my box out wrong or something?” Sandy's anxious voice broke into his thoughts, and Coop realized he'd been looking at but not paying the slightest attention to her reconciled tab.

“No, it's fine,” he assured her. For all he knew, she
very well could have, but she hadn't turned in an incorrect tally yet. And if by some odd quirk of fate she had this time, he'd cover the difference himself. He just wanted this frigging night to be over.

“You looked mad there for a minute.”

“I was thinking about something else.” Like how he'd better get his brain the fuck out of his fly. He forced an anemic imitation of his usual easy smile. “Why don't you go ahead and take off?”

He realized his mistake the moment the words were out of his mouth. Sandy's departure would leave him alone with Ronnie, but before he could retract his offer, she'd already flashed him a brilliant smile.

“Thanks!” In a flurry of material, Sandy yanked off her apron and grabbed her coat and purse. The next thing Coop knew, the door was all but smacking her in the butt as it swung closed behind her.

He drew a breath deep into his lungs, then blew it out and stonily kept his attention away from Veronica as she finished setting chairs upside down onto the tables in her section. He could hear her singing along with the jukebox, though, and gritted his teeth. Christ Almighty. It wasn't bad enough she'd gone and dressed all sexy on him, she suddenly had to turn into Miss Personality, too? Where was her usual Princess Standoffish impersonation when a guy could really use it? And what was with the singing? She didn't carry a tune worth jack.

He knew her animation with the customers, and probably the cheerful singing, had something to do with watching Lizzy and Dessa play dress-up before she'd come to work, because he'd overheard part of her conversation with Marissa. He tried not to think
about it, though, because something about Veronica's wistfulness when she'd talked about the girls had grabbed him by the gut.

Damn, it was stuffy in here. Coop raked both hands through his hair clear to the back of his neck, where he gouged his fingers into the knotted muscles at the base of his skull in an attempt to work out the kinks that had him all tied up in knots. He wanted out of here, wanted to be out where he could breathe real air. He had to get his head back on straight, and a little cold, crisp air would do the trick. All he had to do was hold on for five more minutes. Hell, he'd once lain patiently behind a sand dune in the desert for seven hours until it was safe to resume a reconnaissance mission—how hard could it be to hang tough for five lousy minutes?

Veronica finished policing her station and, placing her hands in the small of her back, stretched out her tired muscles. It had been a long if fairly fun night, and she felt an abrupt loss of the steam that had powered her all evening.

Her attempt to up Coop's awareness of her tonight had been a total bust, and all she wanted now was to cash out her box and head home to bed. Or maybe, if she could manage to stay awake long enough, she'd indulge herself for fifteen minutes with a nice hot soak in the old clawfoot tub on the second floor.

This burning the candle at both ends by getting up early with Lizzy and then staying up late to close out the Tonk was beginning to take its toll. Every morning she made bargains with herself in order to drag her tired bones out of bed. She held out the lure of taking a catnap during the day to catch up on some of her
missed sleep, but somehow never quite got around to it. She kept getting sidetracked by other things.

She collected her tray and cash box, then headed for the bar. Cooper ignored her just as he'd been doing all night, and determined to be equally aloof, she silently reconciled her receipts.

It therefore startled her when, out of the blue, he demanded, “So what's the story with Marissa and your boyfriend?”

“Instant and total chemistry.” Looking up, she found herself directing her reply to the back of his tanned neck. Teeth tightening over his refusal to even face her, she added with hard-won equanimity, “And Kody's just a
friend
—I don't know why you'd think otherwise.”

Especially after seeing the way he and Marissa had taken one look at each other and all but gone up in flames. They'd sat with their heads together talking in low, intense voices; they'd slow-danced in a wide spot between the jukebox and the crowded tables. Then, about an hour ago, they'd left together, and Marissa couldn't have looked more stunned if she'd taken a direct hit of sheet lightning when she'd come to Veronica to inform her she was leaving and taking Kody home with her—something that wasn't at
all
like her. When Veronica had pointed that out, she'd merely said, “I know,” and smiled a carnal little smile.

Veronica didn't mind admitting that knowing what they were most likely doing at this very moment gave her a fair surge of envy. It had been way too long since she'd felt any kind of chemistry with a man, and unconsciously she sighed. “I'm glad someone's getting
lucky,” she murmured to herself. “God knows it's been forever since I have.”

Coop slowly turned. His high cheekbones stood out in sharp relief in the light from the liquor shelves as he took a step toward her, and his voice had an edge that rasped over her nerves as he demanded, “Would you like to?”

Yes
. She stared up at Cooper, at those dark eyes that promised all manner of sexual satisfaction, at that pale hair that looked even spikier and more exotic than usual. Oh, yes. She'd like to very much.

But sometimes she felt like driving down the freeway at a hundred miles an hour, too. It didn't mean she'd actually do it. She grabbed on to her resolve with both hands. “No.”

Every muscle in his body tensed, and for a minute he looked downright dangerous. He was a full head taller and half again as wide as she, and goose bumps raced up her spine at the knowledge that if he took it into his head to press the issue she'd be utterly outmatched. What truly terrified her, though, was the feminine thrill the image of him doing so gave her.

Then he stepped back. One wide shoulder twitched, and he gave her that heavy-lidded, I-like-my-sex-raw look he did so well. “Your loss, Princess. I could've made you feel real good.”

That's exactly what scared her. Her chin went up. “Bully for you. So can BOB.”

Coop's black eyebrows snapped together over his nose, and he suddenly seemed even larger yet. “Who the hell is Bob?”

“My battery-operated boyfriend.”

The tension left him, and he gave her a head-to-foot
appraisal, his gaze pausing on the neckline of her sweater for an instant before raising to meet her eyes. “I'll be damned. So Aunt Ronnie's got herself a little vibrating toy, huh?”

Feeling flushed and cranky, she uttered a rude sound. “There's nothing little about it, bub.”

The corner of his mouth twitched, and the tension seemed to dissipate a fraction. But before she could wonder if he might outright smile, he'd turned his back on her again. The cash register opened with a ping, and Coop began emptying its contents into a bank bag. He shot her an expressionless glance over his shoulder. “You got that cash box tallied yet?”

She looked down at the slip in her hand and silently separated out her tips, which she pocketed before passing the box and tally to him.

“Good,” he said gruffly. “Get out of here and go home.”

Veronica looked between the tray still in her hand and the angle in the counter beneath the bar where she stored it every night when she was through. Cooper was once again blocking her way, and for about two seconds she considered asking him to put the tray away for her. But the edgy set of his shoulders discouraged the idea. She didn't think teasing him was such a hot idea now.

She eased as close as she could get without touching him, then reached around Coop to slide the tray into its usual resting place.

Unfortunately, she'd underestimated the sheer amount of space he took up, and she found herself plastered against his back for a nanosecond as she strained the last couple of inches. She slammed the
tray into place and jumped back, highly aware of his heat radiating through her thin sweaters. Aware, too, even in that briefest of contacts, of the sudden rigidity in his muscles as he stilled.

“All right,” he growled, “that does it!”

He spun on his heel to face her, and the next thing she knew, his big hands were wrapped around her hips and he was swinging her around and lifting her to sit on the counter. Her head whirled, and she grabbed two fistfuls of his sweater to anchor herself, tilting her chin up to stare at him.

“I was a good soldier,” he said in a raspy voice, an unholy fire burning in his eyes as his hands slid from her hips and came up to frame her face. “Even when your eyes, your body language, told me something else, I respected it when you said no. But you sure as hell don't get to tease me, lady. You can't say no in one breath, then rub yourself all over me in the next.”

“All over you! I didn't mean to touch you at
all
—I misjudged the stinking distance between you and the—”

He slammed his mouth over hers, cutting off her explanation, and, with a rough sound in the back of his throat, invaded the slick interior of her mouth with one sure stab of his tongue. In contrast, the thumbs beneath her chin keeping her face tilted up, and his long fingers wrapped around the back of her head, were amazingly gentle.

Veronica barely registered the delicacy of his grip, however, for the urgency of his mouth made her feel as if she'd just thrust a finger into an electrical socket, and every cognitive ability she possessed blew its circuit. Stunning sensation shot from her lips to her nipples,
then shimmered along nerve endings to her fingertips and toes, leaving a feverish flush in its wake before settling with sweetly insistent pulsations between her thighs. Caught with her eyes wide open, she vaguely noticed the black crescents of Coop's lashes where they fanned against the upper thrust of his cheekbones, and his dark eyebrows as they furrowed above his nose.

Then her eyes fluttered shut. She felt the heat of his body, tasted his flavors with every assured glide of his tongue, and heard her own needy moan as her fingers tightened on his sweater and her tongue came up to tangle with his.