Table for Seven (24 page)

“You’re being very quiet. What are you thinking about?” Coop asked.

Audrey turned toward him. Coop was lying on his stomach, his head resting on folded arms.

“What am I thinking about?” Audrey snorted. “Please.”

“What?”

“Your entire gender lives in terror of what the response to that question might be,” Audrey said.

Coop grinned at her.
He has an annoyingly sexy grin
, Audrey thought.
I really need to stop letting it have such an effect on me
.

“I think I just disproved your thesis. I am a man, this is real life, and I am interested in hearing what you’re thinking about. Especially if it’s along the lines of, ‘Wow, Coop is a beast in the bedroom. I never knew sex could be so damn good.’ ”

Audrey giggled and then thought,
Did I really just giggle? I’m lying naked in bed, with a man I hardly know and now I’m giggling. Nothing good can come of this
.

“Not even close,” Audrey said.

“No? Damn. Well, I know it’s not anything along the lines of, ‘I’m not the sort of woman who does this.’ Right?”

“Why’s that?”

“Because that would be a cliché.”

“But people think in clichés all the time,” Audrey argued. “That’s what makes them clichés.”

“You’re avoiding the question.”

Audrey shrugged, then grabbed the sheet before it fell away. “I’m not the sort of woman who does this.”

Coop groaned and buried his face in his pillow.

“But I’m not,” Audrey said. “This feels … I don’t know. Weird.”

Coop looked back up at her, shaking his head. “Weird. Great. That’s just the review I was hoping for. ‘How’s Coop in bed?’ ‘Well, actually, he makes me feel weird.’ It’s what every guy wants to hear.”

“Who am I supposedly having this conversation about your sexual prowess with?”

“I don’t know. Isn’t that what women talk to each other about?”

“Not in my experience.”

“Really? I thought there was an entire television show about four chicks sitting in a coffee shop talking about their sex lives.”

“
Sex and the City
. Which is, by the way, a fictional show. And what I meant by the weirdness is that this”—she waved an arm around, encompassing the bed, the room, the sunshine streaming in through the tilted blinds—“is out of my comfort zone. I normally spend my lunch hour eating a turkey sandwich at my desk.”

Coop kissed her shoulder. “I think we can do better than that,” he murmured.

“Seriously? I thought men your age needed a longer rest period.”

“Ouch. Just for that …”

Coop pushed himself up on his arms and loomed over Audrey who shrieked and said, “Wait, no, you’re going to have to feed me first. I’m starving. And then I really do have to get back to work. I have a business to run. I can’t spend all day lolling around in bed with you.”

“Pity,” Coop said, but he got out of bed and pulled on first a pair of blue striped boxer shorts and then his faded
blue Levi’s. He glanced at Audrey, who was admiring the effect of a tanned male torso. “Come on, lazybones. Let’s go rustle up some lunch.”

“Are we going out?” Audrey asked, sliding out of bed. She felt suddenly shy of her nudity, and turned her back to him as she dressed.

“No, I’ll cook.”

“Can you cook?”

“I sure hope so. I have the whole dinner party club coming over in three days.”

“What are you making, anyway? You haven’t emailed out your menu.”

“Am I supposed to do that?”

Audrey, now fully dressed, turned to face Coop. “Everyone usually does. But it’s not like we have club bylaws or anything. Aren’t you going to put on a shirt?”

“I wasn’t planning on it,” Coop said. He grinned. “Why? Does the sight of my bare chest distract you?”

Audrey rolled her eyes. “What are we having for lunch?”

“I’m going to make you the best cheeseburger you’ve ever had in your life,” Coop said.

“Big talk. But can he deliver?”

“Watch and learn, sweetheart.”

Coop headed toward the kitchen. Intrigued, Audrey trailed after him. His apartment was small and spartan, and the kitchen was just off the living room. Bear, who had been sleeping on his rectangular hunter green bed in the living room, stood, shook himself, yawned widely, and padded into the kitchen after them.

“Where are you going to put everyone for the dinner party?” Audrey asked. There was a small square table in the
living room, which doubled as Coop’s desk, but it wouldn’t seat more than four, and there wasn’t room to extend it.

“You’ll see,” Coop said.

“Why all the mystery?”

“I like to maintain an element of surprise at all times,” Coop said. He rummaged through the fridge and pulled out a package of meat wrapped in white paper. “Here’s my first secret: Butcher Bob’s secret blend.”

“Butcher Bob?” Audrey repeated. “That sounds like a character from a kids’ cartoon.”

“He’s my meat guy.”

“You have a meat guy?” Bear nosed at Audrey’s knee, and she leaned over to rub his head.

“Sure. Don’t you?”

“No.”

“You should. Everyone needs a good meat guy,” Coop said.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Audrey said.

She leaned against the counter and watched Coop work. He formed the meat into three round patties, and then seasoned each patty on both sides with sea salt and freshly ground black pepper.

“Three?” Audrey asked.

“One’s for Bear,” Coop explained.

Audrey smiled. Bear planted himself at Coop’s feet and stared intently up at the counter, as though willing one of the hamburgers to zoom off of the plate and right into his mouth. He licked his chops and began to pant.

Coop washed his hands, got out a skillet, and set it on the burner to heat up. Audrey could tell by the way he worked in the kitchen—competently, with an economy of movement—that
he was comfortable there. It was surprisingly sexy. Ryan had never cooked. He always joked that he was even incapable of making toast. But as soon as this disloyal thought flitted into her head, Audrey felt a twinge of guilt.

Why do I keep comparing the two of them?
she wondered.

“And here’s my second secret,” Coop said, reaching into the fridge again. He held up a package of bacon. “Something near and dear to Leland’s heart.”

“Bacon burgers? That sounds—” Audrey began.

“Amazing?” Coop interrupted.

“I was going to say completely decadent. But, yeah, it also sounds pretty amazing.”

“It’s going to sound even better when you see what else I’m putting on them,” Coop said, pulling out a triangular package of cheese with the air of a magician pulling off a master trick.

“Blue cheese?”

“And not just any blue cheese. This is Maytag blue cheese. The very best,” Coop said. “What do you think?”

What Audrey thought was that consuming a blue-cheese bacon burger in the middle of the day was about as out of character for her as having a nooner. But as soon as the bacon started to sizzle, her mouth began to water and she realized that she was suddenly craving a hamburger.

Coop cooked the bacon until it was crispy, then drained most of the grease from the pan, leaving behind a tablespoon. He added the meat patties to the pan, letting them sizzle in the fat, and flipped them after a few moments. Coop then added shavings of blue cheese to the patties and tented the pan with tinfoil.

“So the cheese will melt,” he explained helpfully.

“Is there anything I can do? I’m just standing here,” Audrey said.

“You’re being decorative.” Coop ducked from Audrey’s swat. “No, I’ve got it under control.”

Coop used a spatula to move two of the burgers from their pan to freshly sliced Kaiser rolls, garnished with lettuce and thick slices of tomato. He put the third burger in a plastic dog bowl, and set it on the ground for Bear, who attacked the food as though he hadn’t eaten in days.

“Lunch is served,” he said.

“Should I set the table?”

“No, it’s a nice day. Let’s go outside. What would you like to drink? Iced tea? Or would you prefer a beer?”

“Actually, a beer sounds great,” Audrey said.

Coop handed her a bottle of Guinness, got one for himself, and then they headed outside. The patio ran the length of the condo, and had a lovely view of the Intracoastal river. Like the rest of Coop’s apartment, the patio was sparingly decorated. There was a single lounge chair, a round table covered by a striped umbrella, two bistro chairs, and several palm trees in terra-cotta pots. Audrey and Coop sat at the table.

“Cheers,” Coop said, and they clinked their beer bottles together.

“What a great view. I would live out here,” Audrey said.

“I practically do,” Coop said. “I have my coffee out here every morning. Dig in and tell me what you think.”

Audrey had to open her mouth wide to fit the burger in. It was heaven. The meat was perfectly cooked and superbly enhanced by the smoky bacon and creamy blue cheese flavors. Juice dripped down, and Audrey had to lean forward, before it covered her shirt.

“Oh, my God,” she said, when she had swallowed and could finally speak.

Coop grinned. “Told you. Best burger you’ve ever had, right?”

“It seriously is. Amazing.”

“Nothing beats a good burger. If I were on death row, awaiting my execution, a bacon cheeseburger would definitely be on my last meal list,” Coop said.

Audrey had just bitten into her burger, which was inconvenient, as she now started to laugh.

“You could have anything in the world, and you’d choose a burger?” she said. “Not that this isn’t fantastic. But I think if it were me, I’d go for seared foie gras.”

“No, I’m a burger man. Although I’d want it served with deep fried onion rings and a chocolate shake.” Coop sighed with pleasure at the thought. “And a chocolate brownie for dessert. The fudgy kind. Vastly preferable to cakey brownies.”

“Agreed. But the brownie should be à la mode with coffee ice cream.” Audrey was getting into the exercise. “And topped with hot fudge sauce and toasted pecans.”

They grinned at each other. It was one of those practically perfect moments—good conversation, good food, a beautiful view. So, of course, it only made sense that things immediately went downhill.

“I think I’m going to have to disagree with you on the coffee ice cream. I’m a vanilla man myself,” Coop said.

“You wouldn’t feel that way if you’d tasted the coffee ice cream I had when I was in Cape Cod. It was at this place called Four Seas Ice Cream and was seriously the best I’ve ever had,” Audrey said.

“That seems like a long way to go for a cone,” Coop said.

“I don’t know, it was really good. But we went there for—” Audrey began and then stopped abruptly.

Coop looked at her questioningly. “For?”

Audrey swallowed and looked at her half-eaten burger, her appetite suddenly gone.

“Ryan and I spent two weeks on the Cape for our honeymoon,” she said.

“What part of the Cape? I’ve been to Martha’s Vineyard a few times,” Coop said conversationally, clearly oblivious to Audrey’s uneasiness.

“Let’s talk about something else,” Audrey said.

“What did your husband do?” Coop asked.

“I meant, let’s talk about something other than Ryan,” Audrey said.

Coop took a swig of his beer. “Why?”

“Because it makes me uncomfortable,” Audrey said.

“Why?” Coop asked again.

Audrey’s discomfort quickly morphed into irritation. “Because I don’t want to talk about him, that’s why.”

“Don’t you think he’s something we should be able to talk about?” Coop asked.

“No. I don’t.”

“Why are you getting so upset?”

“I’m not upset,” Audrey lied. “I just … look, it just feels weird enough to be here with you. Talking about him with you makes it worse.”

Coop studied her. “You think it’s disloyal to discuss your late husband with me?”

Audrey could feel her shoulders tensing up.

“Maybe. Are you trying to say that I should be over it by now?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t have to. People always assume that grief should have a time limit. Like it’s some sort of equation. X amount of time equals no more grief. But it doesn’t work that way.”

“How does it work?” Coop asked.

“It’s a process,” Audrey said.

“A process. Okay.” Coop regarded her. “Is part of that process that you’re going to feel like you’re cheating on him every time you’re with me?”

Audrey opened her mouth, ready to deny this. But instead, she found herself saying, “I don’t know. Maybe. Look, I don’t want to talk about it.”

Coop nodded, taking this in. He took a sip of his beer. “What if I want to talk about it?”

“It’s not up to you.”

“That’s not actually how a relationship works. Even I know that,” Coop said. “We both get a say in what we talk about.”

“This isn’t a relationship. At least, it’s not that sort of a relationship. And my late husband has nothing to do with you,” Audrey said.

“It’s my business that every time we’re together, we seem to be having a great time, and then suddenly a shadow will cross over your face. And I can tell you’re feeling guilty for being happy,” Coop said.

Audrey shook her head.

“That’s not true,” she lied. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. Anyway, look … I like spending time with you. But this”—she waved a hand between Coop and herself—“this isn’t serious. It’s just a fling.”

Coop sat back in his chair and picked up his beer. “A fling,” he repeated and shook his head.

Audrey hesitated. “Isn’t that what you thought it was?”

“As a matter of fact, no, I didn’t.”

Audrey felt her cheeks flush.
I’m being such a jerk
, she thought.
Further evidence that I’m terrible at this
. “I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings,” she said awkwardly.

“I’ve been asked to go on a shoot that leaves out of the Bahamas,” Coop said.

“Oh.” Audrey blinked. “When?”

“I’d have to leave early next week and then I’d be gone for two months.”

Coop looked at her, clearly waiting to see how she’d react to this news. Strangely enough, considering her insistence a moment earlier that their relationship was nothing more than a fling, Audrey’s temper flared. He was giving her crap about not opening up and sharing with him, and all along, he’d been planning to skip town for two months and was just now telling her about it?