Woman On the Run (21 page)

“Yeah, sure.” Glenn’s shoulders slumped. “As if there were any of those going around.” He paid for his purchases and hefted the bag. “Thanks a lot for listening. Beth. Loren.” He nodded to Julia. “Miss Anderson.”

Beth accompanied him out the door and gave his shoulder a consolatory pat. “Give Maisie my love. Tell her to call me if she wants to talk.” She watched him walk out then lifted her shoulders and turned around with a well-that’s-done air.

“Thanks for being so patient,” she said to Julia. “I’ll ring up your things right away.”

“That’s okay,” Julia said softly. “My mom had a bad depression when I was fifteen. It scared me.” Julia didn’t even know she was going to say that until she opened her mouth.

“That so?” Beth looked at her sympathetically. “My kids were scared, too, when I had mine, but I just couldn’t help myself. And how did you mom finally get out of it?”

“She…” It had been when Julia was fifteen. Her father had suddenly been transferred from Paris to Riyadh. Her mother had loved Paris and had hated Saudi Arabia. She hated the demeaning restrictions on women, the dour, cultureless, male-dominated society. Then, one Saturday, Julia had come across her mother, the Ambassador’s wife, the wife of the cultural attaché, and the wife of the rumored CIA officer driving around the huge Embassy compound since they weren’t allowed to drive anywhere else, tipsy from drinking too much of the port the Ambassador’s wife had smuggled into the country in the diplomatic pouch, singing “There is Nothing Like a Dame” at the top of their voices.

After that, Alexandra Devaux had settled down to make the best life she could for herself and her family in Riyadh. As she’d managed to do everywhere they had lived.

Julia blinked back tears. She wished she could tell Beth the story. She was sure Beth would love it. But Beth thought she was Sally Anderson, who had never been outside the country and whose mother was alive and living in Bend.

“Sally?” Beth was watching her, head cocked to one side. “What happened to your mom?”

Julia surreptitiously wiped her eye, her mind racing. “Oh, she—she signed up as a volunteer to help migrant workers’ children learn to read English. Then she became an after-school tutor. She’s still doing it.” As lies went, it wasn’t too bad. Particularly since it was a spur-of-the-moment one. And it was probably what her mother would have done if she’d been Laverne Anderson instead of Alexandra Devaux.

Beth sighed. “That’s what Maisie needs too. You know what I think? I think she’d be a great cook. But who’s going to hire a cook in Simpson?” Beth shook her head sadly and moved behind the counter. She started ticking off Julia’s items. “Box of rice, canned tomato sauce, macaroni—no it’s not called that nowadays, pasta—decaffeinated coffee. Well, that seems to be it. Oh!” She reached out and placed a six-pack of beer on top of Julia’s groceries. “Almost forgot this.”

“But—but—I don’t want beer,” Julia protested. She preferred wine, though one sip of Loren’s jug wine had left what felt like a permanent hole in her stomach. She’d steered clear of it ever since. “I don’t particularly like beer.”

“It’s not for you, dear,” Beth said easily. “It’s for Coop. His favorite brand.”

“I…” Julia felt her face flame. “Oh, it’s…um…” Words defeated her. Her tongue disconnected completely from her brain and flapped around uselessly in her mouth. “Okay, um, just…just add it to the bill.”

“Nah,” Loren said. “I owe Coop. He loaned me one of his pickups when our delivery van broke down. Tell him it’s on the house.”

“Well…thank you, then.”

“Our pleasure.” Loren handed over the two bags of groceries and put his arm around his wife’s ample shoulders.

Beth beamed, rosy little apple cheeks gleaming. “We’re just so glad Coop’s finally getting laid,” she said.

Chapter Ten

“Well?” Alice watched Julia expectantly Saturday morning, pale blue eyes unblinking.

Julia put another bite of the lemon tart in her mouth, just to make sure she hadn’t made a mistake.

“What do you think?” Alice asked expectantly.

Wonderful
, Julia thought.
If you like diabetic comas
. “Um, Alice,” Julia began, not wanting to hurt the girl’s feelings, “did you follow my recipe exactly?”

“Sure.” Alice frowned. “I mean, I thought it was a little skimpy on the sugar, so I added some.”

“Well, maybe it would be better to just stick to the original recipe,” Julia said diplomatically.

“You bet.” Alice grinned at her. “I’m going to follow your advice right down the line from now on. I’ve had three repeat customers for the tea and Karen Lindberger said that she was going to try to convince some of her friends in the Rupert Ladies’ Association to have some meetings here. Can you imagine? Karen said she’d told the president of the Ladies’ Association that she’d talk to the manager about it. She meant me.” Alice splayed a hand across her chest and beamed. “The manager.”

Julia winced and made a conscious effort not to look around her, at dingy walls and scuffed flooring. Manager. Warden was more like it.

“That’s nice,” she said, trying to be enthusiastic for Alice’s sake. “I’ll give you some more pie and cake recipes next week.”

“Thanks.” Alice poured Julia some tea and watched her face. “So what do you think about the tea?”

“This is excellent,” Julia said between sips, and it was. “Congratulations.”

Alice sat back, pleased. They had the diner to themselves. Contrary to Alice’s rising expectations, it was still empty on a Saturday morning. Julia was there because it was Saturday and Saturday was coffee shop time. She was also there sort of waiting for Cooper who’d sort of offered to drive her to Rupert today.

But that had been a week ago and he hadn’t mentioned it since. They hadn’t actually…talked much since. Her evenings and nights had fallen into a pattern. Cooper came over in the late afternoon, and while she brought Rafael up to speed with his homework, Cooper worked on her house in silence. The boiler ran like a dream, nothing in the house leaked, the porch step didn’t creak and above all, she seemed to have every safety device known to man.

He’d suddenly become obsessed with her safety, so each door had a gleaming new lock and safety chain, her doors and windows were alarmed and linked to the sheriff’s office, there were peepholes front and back, and what Cooper called “safety lighting” outdoors but was actually floodlights fit for theater so she could see who was outside the house.

It was all a little over the top for Simpson but Julia needed safety and she had to admit it did make her feel very secure. Short of an axe cutting through her doors, she was protected.

Not to mention the fact that the greatest safety system of all was in her bed all night—Sam Cooper.

After working on her house and driving Rafael home, Cooper came right back, herded her into the bedroom, stripped her, stripped himself, dropped her on the bed and dropped right on top of her. A second after that, they were making love. Hard and fast.

It wasn’t the stuff of romantic novels, but it was exciting as hell. Julia had had ten times more orgasms the past few evenings than in her entire lifetime. They didn’t stop to talk, they didn’t stop to eat, they didn’t stop to sleep. Before Cooper, she had had no idea that it was physically possible to make love for hours, night after night.

Sometimes Cooper was still erect when he pulled out of her before dawn. He’d get dressed, leave with a kiss and Julia would sleep like the dead until seven-thirty. Though she was about fifty-two hours behind on sleep, she was revved, not tired at all. And between school, Rafael, Fred and Cooper, she was kept busy all the time. No time to think. There had been no nightmares. How could there be? Her nights were filled with heat and sex.

Maybe she should tell the guys at the Witness Security Program about hot sex to keep their protectees in line.

“So,” said Alice casually. “You going to Rupert with Coop?”

Julia stared. “How on earth did you know—” Then she broke off. The small-town bush telegraph. “I don’t know,” she told Alice truthfully. “I mean Cooper mentioned it last Saturday, just sort of casually, but he hasn’t spoken of it since.” She shrugged. “So…I don’t know. Maybe he forgot. Or maybe he’s busy.”

“Oh, if Coop said he’d do something, he’ll do it,” Alice assured her earnestly. “Coop’s a man of his word.”

“When he talks,” Julia said. She could feel herself turning bright red. Talking was not what Cooper did best.

“Well, yeah.” Alice was studying her face and Julia wondered what she was reading there. “Coop’s not much of a talker. But he’s a good man, y’know?”

“Yes.” Julia blushed brighter.

“I mean he’s, he’s…kinda quiet. It sort of makes it easy to—well, to underestimate him. His wife sure did.”

The curiosity that welled up was impossible to repress. Julia didn’t even try. This isn’t gossiping, she told herself primly. Just a healthy interest in human nature. And a healthy interest in the nature of a man who’d become her lover. She leaned forward and tried to keep her voice casual. “His wife? What was she like?”

“Who, Melissa?” Alice made to pour more tea, but Julia shook her head and placed her hand over her cup. “Melissa worked for Coop’s stockbrokers in Seattle. You wouldn’t know it from his lifestyle, but Coop is actually a very rich man and Melissa knew what he was worth. They did all their courting in Seattle and he just showed up one day with this woman he’d married.” Alice wrinkled her nose. “We all made an effort, for Coop’s sake, but she never really fit in.”

“What a shame.” Julia barely stopped herself from tsk-tsking.

“And another thing,” Alice continued. “Melissa always made this big point about how she’d sacrificed an incredible professional career to come bury herself here and how an MBA was wasted in the backwoods of Idaho.” Suddenly, a wicked grin crossed Alice’s sweet face, startling Julia. “Then Matt, my brother—”

“I’ve met him,” Julia murmured.

“Yeah?” Alice rolled her eyes. “Then you’ll know what a pain in the butt he is. Actually, at the time, he was only a fledgling pain. But he got as sick of her moans and groans as the rest of us did, so he logged into the University of Washington records and discovered that dear Melissa hadn’t actually, technically speaking, graduated. Then he logged on to the stockbroker’s files and discovered that Melissa was only a secretary there. And all this time, Coop had been too of a gentleman to say anything.”

Julia could see it. See where remaining silent would be not only the natural thing but also the gentlemanly thing for Cooper to do.

“After a while, Melissa was complaining to everyone about how boring Coop was.” All of a sudden Alice skewered Julia with a sharp, pale-blue gaze. “You don’t think Coop’s boring, do you?”

Julia was startled. Cooper? Boring? She shifted in her seat and felt well-used muscles ache. It took her until midmorning to get over the stiffness in her thighs.

“No,” she answered truthfully. “I think he’s mysterious and fascinating and a little frustrating—but boring? Never.”

“Okay.” Alice blinked. A slow smile creased her pretty young face. “Okay. That’s great. I had this feeling about you—”

“Ahm, Alice, look.” Julia shifted uneasily. Did the whole town match-make? This…thing, whatever it was, with Cooper was temporary. Julia was shooting back to Boston just as soon as the mess with Santana was over. “If you’re thinking what I think you’re thinking—”

Alice stood up, not listening, clearing the table. “I knew it, I just knew it. This is great. ‘Bout time Cooper got laid again. And you’re much too smart to pay any attention to that stupid curse.”

Julia froze. Curse? Had she missed something here? Some important conversational cue? “Alice? What curse?”

But Alice had disappeared into the kitchen.

“Alice? Alice?” Julia raised her voice, almost shouting. “What curse are you talking about?”

Alice stuck her head out from the kitchen. “The Cooper Curse, of course.” Her eyes widened as she looked past Julia. “Hi, Coop. You’re sure looking spiffy. You get all dressed up to get married or buried?”

* * * * *

“He’s just upped the ante by another million.” Aaron Barclay tossed an audio cassette at his boss.

Herbert Davis didn’t bother lifting his eyes from the file he was reading. He simply reached out and plucked the cassette from the air. Davis glanced up to catch the look of surprise on his assistant’s face and bit back a smile. His wind and his waistline might be gone, but there was nothing wrong with his eye-hand coordination. “Who?” he asked, “upped what?”

“Santana.” Aaron Barclay grimaced in distaste. “It’s all right there on the tape. His lieutenant just sent out word to the street from Santana that the price for Julia Devaux’s head has been increased by another mil.”

Davis stopped fingering the cassette and stared. “Fuck,” he breathed. “Santana’s offering—” Davis stopped for a minute, hardly believing his own words, “two million dollars for—for…”

“Julia Devaux’s head.” Barclay’s voice was grim. “That part hasn’t changed.”

“But that—that’s crazy.” Davis caught himself. “Well…crazy. What does the word ‘crazy’ mean when applied to a psychopath like Santana? And what the hell does he care what he’s spending? If Devaux’s dead, he gets off and he’s still got another 348 million in the bank. But still—this is…this is against the rules. This means we’re going to have every two-bit wiseguy wannabe in the country wanting to make his bones and earn a fortune all at the same time. It’s going to be a zoo out there. What brought this on? I thought S. T. Akers was doing a pretty good job of stalling.”