Head Over Heels (15 page)

“Honey, I realize starting a new school can be difficult, but the upside is no one will know about your parents, so you won't have to worry about kids saying mean things to you. We'll fix you a room at my house that's every bit as nice as this one, and although I know no one can replace Dessa, I promise you'll make other friends.”

“I don't
care
about that stuff!” Tears poured down Lizzy's cheeks and she trembled from head to foot as she faced off with her aunt. “We have to be here so my daddy can find me when he comes back!”

“Oh, baby.” She reached for Lizzy, but Lizzy sidestepped, and Veronica's hands dropped to her sides. “I don't think your daddy is coming back.”

“He is so! He
told
me. He said he hadda go because the au-tor—the auth-or—”

“The authorities?”

Lizzy nodded vigorously. “Uh-huh.
Those
people had made a mistake and wanted to put him in jail for what happened to Mama. But he promised he'd be back for me! He
promised
.”

It went a long way toward explaining Lizzy's calm
ness during the series of upheavals in her life. She was anything but calm now, however. Unable to bear seeing her shake and cry so hard, Veronica reached out and hauled her into her arms. “Shh-shh,” she crooned, rocking her and stroking her hair. “Don't cry. We'll straighten it out. Somehow or another, we'll straighten it all out.”

Just how they'd do that, though, she hadn't a clue.

 

Coop's concentration was shot to hell, and finally giving up the attempt to write, he shut his computer down and put it away. He couldn't believe how close he'd come this afternoon to giving the game away.

He rocked his wooden chair back on two legs and stared up at his bedroom ceiling. Man, what
was
it about Veronica that made him so careless? Caution used to be his middle name, but he'd been screwing up right and left ever since he'd met her. When it'd occurred to him down in the kitchen that Eddie might not appreciate him exposing Lizzy to the earthier facts of life, he hadn't thought twice about nearly saying so.

Coop whispered a curse. That was his problem right there, of course—he hadn't thought. He felt comfortable with Ronnie, and that wasn't good. Not if it meant shooting his mouth off without first thinking things through. He had to quit letting his dick do all his brainwork for him and start behaving like the trained professional he once was.

The door at the base of the attic stairs suddenly banged open and soft footsteps sounded on the wooden steps. On immediate alert, Coop automatically cataloged the weapon potential in the ordinary
items around him as he silently eased the chair back on all four legs and rose to his feet. An instant later he recognized Ronnie's black hair as her head crested the balustrade. Against all reason, and contrary to everything he'd just been telling himself, he relaxed his vigilance, happy to see her.

Veronica, on the other hand, looked anything but relaxed when she reached the top of the stairs. “I've got big trouble.”

Bridging the distance between them, he reached out to guide her to the chair he'd just abandoned. “Sit down,” he invited and pressed on her shoulders until she collapsed onto the seat. He circled the narrow table that doubled as his desk and swung around a mismatched chair. Straddling it, he crossed his arms over the top rail and propped his chin atop them. “Tell papa all about it.”

“Well, see, that seems to be my problem,” she said, scowling at him. “Parenting. If we were in school and this were a pop quiz, I'd get a big fat D-minus at it.” She related her conversation with Lizzy, then jumped up to pace the narrow confines of Coop's room. He turned in his chair and watched color fluctuate in her cheeks as she stalked from table, to bed, to the top of the stairs, and back again.

“I thought I was starting to get a handle on it.” She laughed harshly. “What a joke—I didn't even see what direction the problem was coming from. But what am I supposed to tell her?” she demanded hotly. “That her father, who's wanted for the murder of her mother, will indeed be back for her? That he's a smart man, so don't worry about it, darling, because he'll find us at my place in Seattle?” She thrust her fingers through
her hair, scraping it off her forehead. “I certainly can't tell her that it'll be a cold day in hell before I allow him to take her away.”

Indignation on his brother's behalf straightened Coop from his indolent slouch, but he kept his tone even. “You think he'd hurt her?”

“Not physically. Eddie was an excellent parent who probably loved Lizzy more than anything in the world. But he ceased to be a blue-ribbon dad the day he became a fugitive. What does he plan to do, dye her hair to change her appearance? Teach her to answer to a new name every few months? She'll learn to lie and be constantly moved from place to place to stay one step ahead of the law. What kind of life is that for a kid?”

Coop hated to admit it, but she had a point.
Still
. “Are you one hundred percent convinced her father is the killer?”

“Of course not. But the fact that he ran is certainly damning. You have to admit that's a tough detail to work around.”

“Maybe he panicked when he found himself taking the rap for someone else's deed.”

“Like who?” she demanded skeptically. “The One-Armed Man?”

“From what I hear, he's far from the only guy your sister had something going with. I don't mean to speak ill of the dead, but folks say she got around.”

Veronica flopped back down in her chair. “Yeah, she was no angel. But as far as I know, the only person she had a genuine beef with was Eddie.” She blew out a breath, fluttering a glossy strand of hair that had flopped over her eyebrow. “Which brings us full cir
cle.” Then an arrested expression crossed her face.

He straightened in his seat. “What?”

“Huh?”

“You just had a look in your eye.”

“Did I?” She shrugged. “It's called frustration.”

“No, it was something else.” And he wanted to know what.

But Veronica's expression had smoothed out and become unreadable. “You're imagining things.”

No, he wasn't. She knew something, or suspected something, or had thought of something—he'd swear to it.

But much as he longed to pursue it, he'd let it go. For now. Otherwise, he was pretty sure she'd just turn stubborn on him.

Sooner or later, though—and he intended it to be sooner—he planned to find out if whatever caused that brief look on her face might help to clear Eddie.

A
N ICY WIND CUT THROUGH
V
ERONICA
'
S JACKET AS
she hurried across the street to the Tonk. When she finally reached the tavern door, however, she hesitated. Aside from Tuesday, when she'd filled in for Sandy, she'd actually managed to get to bed at a reasonable hour each night this past week. She ought to feel well rested. The only problem was…she hadn't gotten any more sleep.

She'd awakened in the wee hours every morning to find Cooper either climbing into bed with her or already there—and herself divested of her jammies and in a high state of arousal before she was even fully awake. And Coop hadn't been satisfied to simply make love to her once and then wander back to his own bed. She'd generally lost count of her orgasms
long before he'd climbed out of bed again and gone up to his attic room.

And oh, my, just thinking about it took the wind-chill factor right out of the air.

Spine stiffening, she reached for the knob.
That
wasn't what brought her to the Tonk. She liked to think things through, so it hadn't been from any burning desire to keep Coop in the dark last Saturday that she'd failed to share with him her sudden recollection of a telephone conversation she'd had with Crystal shortly before she left for Scotland. The sudden flash of her sister's excitement over the champagne treatment she'd received from some guy she'd been seeing had popped unbidden into Ronnie's mind out of the blue and reminded her that Crystal was no longer around to enjoy the sort of uptown treatment she'd adored. In that moment, Veronica had desired nothing more than an opportunity to mull the memory over in private.

But that was five days ago, and she'd done all the mulling she could stand, so the time had come to talk to Coop. Supposing, of course, he was even still interested. It was just as likely he wouldn't be, since what she had to report was pretty inconsequential—just a chance remark, hardly earth-shattering news.

And certainly not worth making a special trip to the Tonk for. Stepping inside, Veronica paused for a moment to appreciate the irony while she soaked up a little of the Tonk's warmth. This place had always represented her worst nightmare, yet lately she found herself inventing feeble excuses to drop by.

She located Coop behind the bar, listening to some
thing a patron said while he assembled a drink. As she watched, he threw back his head and laughed, and all the moisture in her mouth dried up.

Oh, boy. She was in big trouble. She kept thinking this attraction between them would lessen, but so far it'd only grown worse.

Not that she planned to let it get out of control or anything. She was an adult—she could handle it. Squaring her shoulders, Veronica strode over to the bar.

“Hey, there,” she said as she climbed up on a recently abandoned stool.

“Hey, yourself.” Coop smiled at her and leaned across the bar as if he meant to kiss her. When Veronica jerked back, his face went blank. Too blank, and she had the distinct impression he was displeased with her.

It bothered her that she cared. It was his problem, not hers, so it shouldn't matter. It wasn't as if she would change her actions even if she could. She barely knew how
she
felt about this relationship; she certainly wasn't about to put it on display for the Tonk's clientele. Particularly not when she'd noticed that Darlene Starkey was here again. One public kiss, and the entire town would have an opinion on her relationship with Cooper before she'd managed to form one herself.

“Get you something to drink?” Coop's voice, cutting into her thoughts, was clipped and aloof.

Veronica shifted on her stool, wishing she could redo the last few minutes, handle it differently so Coop wouldn't be angry with her.

That she desired to placate his male ego at all made her feel defensive. “No,” she replied stiffly. “Thanks. I
just dropped by to talk to you for a few minutes, but obviously it wasn't one of my brighter ideas.” She slid off the stool. “We can talk another time.” It was a safe bet that wouldn't be later tonight. Somehow she doubted Coop would be sneaking into her bed after this.

“Wait.” He reached across the bar and stayed her with one large hand, gently pinning her much smaller one to the bar. “Don't go.”

Veronica gave an experimental tug and discovered that she was unlikely to be released without a struggle. She leaned closer to him over the bar. “I can't do the public affection thing,” she said in a low voice. “I'm sorry if that angers you, but I won't have the entire town speculating about what's going on between us.”

“I know. I thought for a minute you were ashamed of me, or at least ashamed of what we—”

“No! But you have to understand how it would look. You work in the family tavern and you live in my house—”

“And kissing you over the bar could start up a whole slew of rumors. I get it.” He gave her hand a gentle shake. “So have a glass of wine or something, and just keep me company for a while.” His fingertips stroked down the back of her hand to the ends of her fingers as he released her. He met her gaze levelly. “Please.”

She didn't think he was a guy who put himself in the position of supplicant easily, and she climbed back up on the stool. “I'd love a glass of the house white.”

The momentum that had sent her across the street was broken, however, so she didn't plunge right in about the conversation with Crystal. She divided her
attention between watching Cooper and visiting with the various customers who stopped by to say hello to her.

It was amazing to discover she'd actually begun to make friends with a few of the Tonk regulars. As it turned out, though, her bad memories weren't the whole story. She'd taken the actions of a few and blown them up in her mind until they'd come to represent the entire clientele. She was beginning to believe that there were actually more nice, everyday people who came in here than waitress-groping drunks.

And watching Cooper was just plain impossible to resist. He was too appealing, too compelling, with that big body and fluid grace, with his exotic coloring, and those dark eyes that looked at her as though she held the secrets to his hottest fantasies. It gave her the uneasiest suspicion he was coming to mean more to her than she'd like to admit.

And yet…would that truly be so awful? She didn't plan to get serious about him or anything. Heck, she hadn't harbored any burning desire to get serious about any of the other men she'd dated, either, but she'd certainly never had a problem admitting she felt something for them. Was that due to the fact that her usual type was a suit-and-tie-wearing professional, and Coop was anything but? And if so, did he therefore merit less consideration, or respect, or whatever it was she feared she was denying him, simply because he was a different breed of cat? She wasn't generally such a snob.

Veronica sat a little straighter on her stool. She
wasn't
a snob, but she'd been behaving perilously close
to one. Well, that attitude stopped now. Overcome by a sudden feeling of freedom, she gave Coop such a brilliant smile that he blinked.

“Wow.” Bracing his forearms on the bar, he leaned into her and returned fire with a killer smile of his own. “What was that for?”

“Hmm?” If she didn't have so many reservations about public displays of affection, she'd lean forward and take a big, juicy bite out of his luscious lower lip. Instead, she drew back with self-conscious primness and said, “What was what for?”

“That billion-kilowatt smile you just gave me. Tell me what I did to earn it, so I can do it some more.”

Smiling anew, she marveled at the pure happiness that suffused her. “Perhaps,” she said softly, “it was simply for you…being you.”

“Hot damn,” he breathed. “You know, it's freakin' slow in here for a Thursday. I wonder if Barbara knows anything about bartending.”

Veronica was actually giving the notion some serious consideration when a man cleared his throat and Coop straightened. It jerked her out of her dream world and back to the realm of good sense. Good grief. It was bad enough that she was probably fooling herself that the Tonk's patrons hadn't begun to speculate about her relationship with Cooper. If by some miracle it had escaped their notice, having the two of them race out of here in a red-hot lather would certainly guarantee everyone's attention. Resisting the urge to touch her arm with her fingertips to see if the heat Coop generated in her every time he came within touching distance would make an audible sizzle, she
picked up her wine glass and emptied it in one long gulp.

Ruddy color stained Coop's cheekbones, but he gave the man who'd interrupted them a level-eyed look. “What can I get you?” he inquired as he cleared the bar of empties and used a dish towel to wipe up the condensation that had puddled beneath a highball glass.

“Bourbon and seven,” the man said and took the vacant stool next to Veronica's. He gave her a friendly nod, then immediately turned his attention back to Coop. “Do you remember me?”

Coop paused with the can of 7UP suspended over the drink and studied the younger man. His mouth tipped up in a small, crooked smile. “Sorry—can't say that I do. Did you recently change your drink? I'm much better at matching liquor with its owner than I am with names.”

“You've never made me a drink.”

Coop raised his eyebrows, and the man shook his head impatiently. “I'm sorry—I'm going about this all backwards. I'm David Pessein.” He thrust his hand out and Coop wiped his hand on his towel, then shook it.

“I didn't really expect that you'd remember me,” David said, “since I was just a kid when we met. But I've heard of your exploits for so many years, I feel as if I know you, and when I heard you were working here I just had to stop in to say hello. I moved to Spokane a few years ago, but I'm back visiting my family—so I wanted to come by to tell you how sorry I am about Eddie.”

Veronica blinked. She'd assumed it must be a case of mistaken identity, but Coop abruptly went very, very still, and she shot him a glance. At the look on his face, the warmth that their flirting had wrapped around her heart turned to ice. She knew that blank face. It was the one he wore when he didn't want his thoughts read.

She swiveled around to face the man at her side. “Eddie Chapman, you mean? Did you know him?”

“Sure. He was probably my closest friend, growing up. And personally, I can't envision him doing what everyone's saying he did. Which is another reason I felt so bad about not contacting James here.”

“James?”

“Cooper, I mean.” He turned back to Coop with a laugh. “Sorry about that. Eddie always said it was a losing battle trying to remember to call you that, so what chance do I have to keep your name straight?” He shrugged good-naturedly. “He idolizes you, you know.”

Oh, man. I
so
don't want to know the reason behind this
. Veronica's stomach roiled, and her heart tried to pound its way out of her chest. But still she couldn't prevent herself from asking. “Why?”

He apparently didn't find it odd that she was the one asking questions, while Cooper merely stood on the other side of the bar regarding them both with a complete lack of expression. “Jeez, where to begin? The Marines was a biggie, of course—that's a majorly macho deal when you're a kid. But let's face it: I think James—I mean Coop—could have been an accountant and still Eddie would have thought he was the biggest,
baddest thing to swagger down the pike. That's just the way little brothers tend to be.”

Brother?
Veronica's gaze swung back to Coop. An icy fist seemed to close around her heart as she waited for his denial—that this man was mistaken, that Coop wasn't the person Eddie's friend thought he was.

Instead, Coop looked at her for just a moment before essaying the merest shrug. Then he turned back to Eddie's friend. “I do vaguely remember you,” he said imperturbably. “It's good to see you again, David.”

Betrayal screaming through every nerve ending in her body, Veronica got down off her stool and silently walked away.

 

The minute Coop finished closing down the Tonk for the night, he strode across the street, let himself into the house, and headed straight up the stairs to Veronica's bedroom. He tried the doorknob and eased out the breath he'd been holding when it turned beneath his hand. But he didn't have time to give thanks, because the door only opened half an inch before bumping up against an immovable object. She'd braced a chair under the knob.

He rattled the door lightly. “Let me in, Ronnie. We have to talk.”

She didn't answer, but he knew she was awake. He could feel her on the other side of the door, her hurt and fury nearly a palpable entity.

She hadn't been alone in her shock over Pessein's announcement. It had caught
him
flat-footed, and he wasn't exactly proud that his first thought had been for his own dilemma now that his anonymity was
blown. But then he'd had to watch the blood drain from Veronica's face before she'd taken off without a word. After her departure, news of his connection to Eddie had taken less than five minutes to make the rounds. It had set the bar abuzz, and considering that the Starkey woman had been present, the odds were good that the entire town would be buzzing about it by morning.

At the moment, though, he didn't give a damn about any of that. Let them say whatever the hell they wanted. The only person whose opinion really mattered to him was Ronnie.

And apparently she wasn't talking.

“Let me in.” Stroking his hand down the door's old wooden panels, he pressed his eye to the crack, but he couldn't see anything. “I can explain.” Somehow.

He heard her get up and pad toward the door, and his heart gave a thump of relief. He caught only the meagerest glimpse of her tousled hair, then a slice of her face when she reached out for the chair. Even in the dim light, her eye appeared swollen, as if she'd been crying. His gut clenched. He'd never meant to make her cry, but he'd fix it. Somehow, he'd fix it. Catching her eye, he attempted a gentle smile.