Turbulent Intentions (13 page)

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Her breath coming in and out in pants, Stormy pushed herself harder and faster as she ran on the treadmill while watching the sun flash on the waves as they lapped against the shore. The view was perfect in Cooper’s state-of-the-art home gym.

Her eyes narrowed as she looked over at the cottage, where no one was working. How was it going to be repaired if the workmen weren’t there doing anything? She decided to ask Sherman about it as soon as possible.

A runner she wasn’t, but the energy zinging through her body had called for an outlet, so she’d been in the gym for the past hour, and though her muscles were screaming, her mind still wasn’t letting go of thoughts of Cooper and that kiss they’d shared two nights before.

Finally she couldn’t take it anymore, and she stopped the machine, her knees nearly buckling as she got off. Water! She needed water. Carefully she ascended the basement stairs and walked to the kitchen.

Before she reached the fridge, she noticed a note with her name on it. Her thirst temporarily forgotten, she slowly moved toward it and picked it up as if the paper would give her an electric shock or something.

I think you do have some things to tell me. I’ll be gone a few days, but I want you to know that I’m anticipating my return.

Cooper

Leaning against the counter, she read the note three times through. What did he mean that he was anticipating his return? What did he mean that she had things to tell him? Did he know? He couldn’t know. Her heart thudded harder than it had on the damn treadmill as she read the note yet another time.

Finally, she set it down and got her drink, then sat there at the counter with every worst-case scenario filtering through her brain.

She wanted to smack herself as the day progressed.

Just because she’d had a couple of spectacular kisses with Cooper, and he’d left her a note she was obsessing about, didn’t necessarily
mean
something.

What Stormy needed to do was focus on herself. After living in this perfect little sea town, and talking to Cooper about dreams she’d forgotten about, she was thinking that maybe she’d give her hopes a chance.

The worst that could happen was she would be terrible at it. But what if she was good? The necklace she’d lost so many years before she’d designed in high school, and her teacher had said she had a real eye for art, a true talent.

Instead of focusing on a man, shouldn’t she focus on herself? He was going to be gone for a few days. By the time he got back, maybe she would be more in control of herself.

So for the next two days, Stormy made sure she wiped away any thoughts of Cooper.

With the house all to herself, Stormy couldn’t help but smile. The cottage was taking forever, but soon she’d even have her own space. However, after living in Coop’s giant mansion, she wondered if she’d feel cramped in the cottage even though it wasn’t actually that small.

Of course, she was so used to the constricted confines of apartment living—the sounds of television sitcoms through thin walls, the anger of domestic disputes, and the young couple upstairs making their nightly session as obvious as possible—that the cottage would be paradise in comparison.

But here at Coop’s private property, all that could be heard was the sound of the fountain in the front yard, the splash of waves on the beach, the occasional toll of harbor buoys, the wind through the trees, and the periodic cry of gulls sailing above.

Cooper was halfway across the Pacific Ocean
, she thought with a smile.

She needed to take advantage of the situation instead of holing herself away in her room when she wasn’t working.

Stormy wasn’t going to waste any opportunities, so she made the executive decision: sweet white wine and a skinny-dip in the hot tub. Soon she would forget all about the days of freezing in her apartment while huddled beneath her covers. Tonight she would feel like the rich and famous. She would even drink from crystal.

Smiling with selfish delight, she sprinted up the stairs to her room where she quickly slipped into a silk bathrobe, then closed her bedroom door behind her as she headed back downstairs.

She rummaged through the kitchen for a proper glass. “Now we’re in business,” she said aloud as she pulled a chilled bottle of wine from the cooler. She hoped he wasn’t saving the bottle for a special occasion. She couldn’t help but giggle guiltily as she dug through the drawer for the bottle opener.

“Ah, there you are,” she murmured, pulling it from the drawer and placing it on the cork.

The bottle open, she poured a glass, spilling some on the floor. She’d get that later. Pulling fresh strawberries from the fridge, she quickly moved to the French doors and opened them, the cool air making her breath instantly fog up.

Walking through the doors, Stormy flipped the porch light switch, but nothing happened. Thinking by some chance the first time was a fluke, she flipped the switch on and off once more; still nothing. She didn’t let it stop her. The moonlit deck was a more relaxed setting anyway.

Moving quickly to the far side of the deck, she made quick work of pulling off the hot tub cover and setting the temperature to something that seemed just under scalding, then she turned on the jets.

The steam from the hot tub plumed into the cool air as a slight hint of chlorine filled her nostrils. Casting off her robe, then perching her strawberries and champagne on the tub’s ledge, she stepped into the bubbling water.

Midway in, she stopped for a moment, her hands across her chest as she glanced around, double-checking that she was truly alone. Electing to sit in the darkness, she left the hot tub’s lights off, then slipped completely below the surface, submerging even her head with a handful of strawberries inadvertently following her.

Her stress evaporated as quickly as the steam from the hot water, and Stormy knew the days ahead would only get better.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Cooper grumbled as he drove down the road. A frustrating woman, cancelled flights, and sick flight crews were making him want to take that time off his uncle Sherman had suggested.

After pulling into the driveway and whipping into his garage, Cooper walked into the house, instantly disappointed by the darkness. Looking at the clock, he realized it was just a quarter past ten. Stormy had to be in her room reading or something because she didn’t normally go to sleep so early.

“Stormy, I’m home,” he called while loosening his necktie. He was more than ready for their talk. He walked up the stairs while unbuttoning his top. Then he stood in front of her door for a moment. It was closed with no light shining from beneath it.

Frustrated, Cooper walked into his bedroom, slipped off his shoes, he kicked them away, then removed his name bar and pilot wings, and set them on the top of his dresser. If he couldn’t talk to the dang woman, then he may as well take a hot shower and get food other than airline garbage.

It didn’t take long to shower, and then Cooper wrapped a towel around his hips and made his way back down the stairs, swinging into the kitchen for a beer and crackers.

Before he knew what was happening, his feet slipped out from beneath him and he found himself flailing while trying to stay upright. He failed. His fall was painful and the sound of bare skin smacking against granite tile echoed through the kitchen.

“What the hell . . .?” Cooper groaned as he sat up, noticing the puddle that had caused this wreck.

Eventually he placed his hands beneath himself, pushing up off the floor and back onto his feet, with his pride wounded and his back aching. “This is obviously what I get for allowing a damn housemate,” he grumbled.

A shudder passed through him, and that’s when he noticed the cool air drifting across his skin. Slowly, he walked around the corner of his large kitchen island, taking care not to slip again on the slick floor, and then he stopped when he saw the French doors slightly ajar.

What the hell? His irritation was growing by the minute. When he stepped up to the door and heard the sound of bubbling water and the hum of the hot tub, he growled low in his throat.

Just as quickly as the irritation had grown, it quickly dissipated. Because if the door was open and the tub running, then that meant she was out there. Maybe his night was looking up after all.

With a smile in place where a scowl had been moments before, Cooper stepped onto the deck, moving with purpose toward the tub he could barely see. It was cold out, but that wasn’t a bad thing, considering he wore nothing beneath the towel tucked in at his hips.

Suddenly, though, as he reached the tub and was about to call out to her, the figure in the water shifted, rising from the steam. He was nearly knocked over when she jumped from the hot water and sped past him toward the back door.

What if that hadn’t been Stormy? He hadn’t gotten a good look at the person.

“Stormy. If it’s you, answer now,” he called. There was no answer.

Cooper dashed after the person, exploding into the kitchen and quickly glancing across the room.

The person went down hard where Cooper had fallen not that long ago. The body slid across the floor as if diving for home plate.

Cooper moved forward, and then once again lost his footing on the wet floor, not counting on the added water his escape artist had left behind. Falling forward, he tried to catch himself, but it was no use.

Sliding across the floor, he tumbled into the hot tub bandit, both of them now rolling around in wine and chlorine-scented water.

Cooper froze again, but this time it wasn’t from his need to fight. This time, it was because he had no doubt whom he’d just captured—and somewhere in their tumble his towel had fallen away.

There was no way he could hide the evidence of how he felt about this woman, not when there wasn’t a single stich of clothing between them.

Neither of them spoke for several tense moments as both of them tried to gain back their breath.

“I . . . uh, thought you were in Japan,” she finally said.

“Cancelled flights . . . sick people,” he mumbled. “Why didn’t you answer me?”

“I was panicked being naked,” she said in a gasp.

Stormy was still beneath him, but that didn’t help. With her hands against his shoulders, her fingers moving slightly, he was about to lose control.

Cooper found himself reaching up, his fingers gliding across her soft cheek as he gazed down into her lovely dark eyes.

A slight moan escaped her mouth, and that was it for Cooper. Her lips were moist and parted and he wasn’t resisting for a moment longer. Bending down, he captured her mouth, and together their moans floated around them.

With every rise of Stormy’s soft breasts against him, and the rhythm of her tongue mating with his, Cooper became harder and harder. Pushing her thighs apart, he rested his throbbing manhood against her moist opening.

She was clutching at his hair, no sign of regret within her. Gripping her hip tightly with one hand, Cooper leaned back slightly and then pushed forward, sinking himself fully within her heat.

She cried out—and Cooper froze.

“Are you going to keep playing games or are you going to admit that you know who I am?” he asked, suddenly furious.

He’d lost control for a moment, and he was still on the verge of doing it again, but dammit, he’d meant to talk to her first about this before plunging within her sweet folds.

“I . . . uh . . .” She wasn’t forming coherent words and he was growing more and more angry.

“Is this a game?” he asked.

With no other choice but to strangle her or let her go, he withdrew from her body, wanting to cry out at how wrong that felt.

“No!” she cried out, quickly sitting up with her arms wrapped protectively around her knees.

“What else am I supposed to think?”

She was quiet for a moment. “You didn’t want more than a one-night stand back then and neither did I,” she said, her voice still too quiet for him to figure out what she was feeling or thinking.

“Maybe I did want more,” he said. He thought of the locket he still had.

“Don’t lie, Cooper. It was a great night—but it was only supposed to be one night,” she said, irritation in her voice.

“Then what are we doing here now?” he asked.

“We were about to have sex,” she grumbled.

He went stock-still for a moment, but Stormy didn’t see the warning in his anger. She grumbled something else and Cooper shot to his feet.

“Is it sex you want, Stormy?” he demanded.

Now she was understanding the full extent of his anger. Her eyes rounded.

“Not when you’re ticked off,” she said, but her breathless excitement belied her words.

“If it’s a night of sex you want,
that
I can give you.”

Leaning down, he easily lifted her up and then began moving toward the staircase.

“Cooper, what are you doing?” She gasped as she hit his chest. “Put me down!”

“Gladly,” he said, anger and passion mixing within him. He made it to his room in record time and unceremoniously dropped her on the bed.

“Caveman,” she snapped, her voice still a bit breathless.

“Oh baby, you haven’t seen anything yet.”

And then the talking stopped as he joined her on the bed.