Kiss Me If You Can (6 page)

Lexie closed her eyes and silently counted to ten, breathing in deeply as her yoga instructor had taught her. “I'll see what I can do,” she said, buying herself time.

No way was she bringing Coop over here. That would open up a can of worms she wasn't ready to deal with in more ways than one.

“Good! You let me know when and I'll plan a meal.”

Lexie forced a smile. “Mind if I check out the news online?” she asked, hoping to end all discussion involving meeting Coop.

The two women stepped aside and Lexie lowered herself into the chair. Not even massive doses of caffeine could prepare her for the tornado that was Charlotte and Sylvia.

She clicked onto the
Daily Post,
Coop's paper, for a quick glance at the Crime Beat. She wanted to see more about his writing and his work—and was shocked to find another even more disturbing headline.

Crime Beat Reporter on Opposite Side of Beat—
Again.
Coop's apartment had been broken into last night, though the details were sketchy. The article went on to describe Coop's recent heroics, his status as the current Bachelor and some more speculation about his relationship with the as-yet unnamed woman in the photo. At least she had anonymity for now.

But her mind wasn't on the Bachelor Blog, it was on the robbery and when it had occurred—before or after their date last night? If it was afterwards, there was a possibility the ring had been stolen in the break-in. The thought churned Lexie's stomach, but even more upsetting was the notion that Coop might have been hurt.

Lexie excused herself and ran for the shower… Next stop: Coop's apartment to check first on the man and then on the ring.

 

C
OOP'S ADDRESS
wasn't too far from Lexie's grandmother's, and she hopped on the subway, arriving at his stop by 9:30 a.m.

She quickly glanced at the outside of the walk-up apartment where he lived before running up the stairs, her flip-flops smacking against the floor with every step.

She rang his bell and waited.

No one answered, so she rang again. And again. Then she knocked loudly a couple of times for good
measure. Just as she was about to give up and call his cell phone, as she probably should have done to begin with, the door next to Coop's opened.

An attractive woman dressed in a police uniform, stuck her head outside. “Looking for someone?”

Despite her petite stature, she had an air of authority Lexie couldn't deny. “Sam Cooper.” Lexie pointed to his apartment.

The other woman looked Lexie over from head to toe, obviously assessing her before deciding to answer. “He stepped out early this morning and I'm not sure if he's back. Maybe he's in the shower.” She yawned. “I worked the night shift and I was just about to try to get some sleep.”

“Sorry.” Lexie took two steps back. “I'll just call him later.”

The neighbor leaned against her doorframe, arms folded across her chest, in no rush to get back inside, despite her claim. “Give me your name and I'll tell him you were here.”

Before Lexie could answer, Coop's door opened wide. “Can I join the party?” he asked.

“You've got company,” his neighbor said, over another yawn. She covered her mouth with her hand. “I'm going to bed. Let's get together later. It looks like we have a lot to talk about.” Her too-perceptive gaze settled on Lexie once more before she inclined her head and closed the door on them both.

Confounded by the other woman, Lexie turned to Coop, intending to ask some questions, but one look at him and all rational thought fled. Wearing nothing but faded jeans, zipped but unbuttoned, she had a full-on view of his washboard abs, tanned chest and unshaven face. She forgot that she was curious about his neighbor, forgot why she'd come. Heck, she'd even forgotten her own name.

“Would you like to come in?” he asked.

Lexie nodded. She could handle a nod.

“Good. Better than talking in the hall.”

“Or disturbing your neighbor,” Lexie added.

“That's Sara. She's an NYPD cop and, as she said, she worked the night shift. She'll be less cranky in a couple of hours,” he said, obvious fondness in his voice.

A frisson of jealousy crept through Lexie, an unusual and unwanted emotion when it came to any man. She liked casual attachments. Not ones that elicited feelings of any kind.

Coop led her into his apartment and turned an obviously new lock, bolting the door shut.

He must have been up late into the night dealing with the police and the locksmith, she realized.

“So what are you doing here?” he asked. “Not that I mind, but I sort of expected you to wait a day or so to call.”

She'd been panicked after reading about the
burglary and rushed over here without thinking. Meeting his neighbor, who obviously knew he'd been up and out early, reminded Lexie that he had a life and she felt like an idiot for running over here uninvited.

And now here she was with a half-dressed man she'd just met yesterday. Who probably didn't want or need her concern. Lexie always operated on pure instinct and emotion, rarely stopping to think first, always asking questions later, but even for her, this turn of events was too much.

She cleared her throat. “I read about the robbery last night and I was worried. But since you're clearly okay, I should go. But before I do, can you at least tell me if the ring was stolen?”

He shook his head. “The robbery happened while we were out. I came home to this.” He swept his hand through the air, encompassing the entire apartment, which had obviously been trashed.

“I'm sorry. And I'm glad you're okay. Since I caught you at a bad time, coming out of the shower and all, I should go. And call first next time.” She turned to leave before she could ramble some more and make a bigger fool of herself.

“Whoa.” Coop grasped her shoulder and spun her back around. “Don't run off. Please. You said you were worried about me.” He sounded pleased about that.

She nodded, still tense and uncomfortable.

He smiled. “Then definitely don't run off. The cops took my statement last night, Sara checked in this morning, but I could use a friend,” he admitted.

She raised her eyebrows. “Isn't that what Sara is?” As the jealous-sounding words escaped, déjà vu overwhelmed her and Lexie realized what was wrong, why she'd gone from needing to be here to her sudden urge to flee.

Lexie had already lost one important man in her life to a woman whose importance she'd discounted. Just a friend, Drew had said of the woman in Paris. So while a trusting Lexie was enjoying the famous museums in the City of Love, Drew had gone for a quick lunch with his old female friend. Next thing Lexie knew, he'd stayed on in Paris with the woman he'd never gotten over.

And Lexie had continued on her travels alone, having learned two succinct lessons. No matter how temporary a relationship, any man she got involved with must truly be unencumbered by past relationships. And he had to respect, if not understand, her life. Drew had screwed her over on both counts and she'd been deeply hurt when he'd explained that Stacey, his
friend,
was much better suited to him than a wanderer like Lexie.

“Sara is a neighbor and a friend,” Coop said, unaware of her feelings. And he didn't sound at all
upset with her personal questions. “But you—I hope will turn into something more. So stay. Please.”

His husky, compelling voice drew her in. “Sure,” she said, relaxing a little.

He inclined his head. “Good. Because I'm worn out from getting no sleep and because for the second time this week, I'm on the wrong side of my own crime beat and I hate it.”

Lexie sighed and adjusted her glasses. She wanted to be here for him, but she needed to explain her crazy reaction first. “I'm not normally so nosy, but I wanted to make sure you and Sara are
just
friends. She seemed to know a lot about your morning routine and looked at me like…I don't know.”

“Like a cop whose neighbor had a robbery last night? Or like a friend who wanted to make sure she approved of the woman her neighbor was getting involved with?” He reached for her hand.

She let him.

“I feel ridiculous,” she muttered. Although she'd had these rules for herself since Drew, she'd never grilled any man since about his personal relationships. Because none of the men since had affected her as strongly or as deeply as this one.

“Don't.” Coop pulled her toward the messy living area and the couch in the center, settling onto the cushions.

“If it bothers you to think there's something between Sara and me, I'm glad. Just like I'm glad you came here because you were concerned.” He brushed his hands over her bangs and slowly removed her glasses from her face, staring into her eyes.

“Are you okay?” she asked, reminded of why she'd come here in the first place.

“I never thought about what my job did to the people I write about, but I've been on the other side of the story twice recently and I can't say I like it much. It makes me feel raw and exposed.”

“What would make you feel better?” she asked, leaning closer.

“This.” He placed her hand on his chest, her palm centered over his heart. Then he lowered his head, capturing her lips in a soul-deep kiss.

He tasted like mint, he smelled like freshly showered man, and her entire body went into sensory overload. His tongue swirled inside her mouth, devouring what she gave, demanding what she didn't. He knew exactly how to kiss in order to engage all of her. He nibbled on her lower lip and a corresponding tug kicked in deep in her belly. He soothed the bite with his tongue and the swirls of need traveled lower and lower, winding into her abdomen. A trickle of desire dampened her underwear and she tightened her thighs together to prevent herself from climbing onto his lap and taking what she really wanted.

He thrust his hand into the back of her hair and tilted her head, giving him better access to the far reaches of her mouth and throat. In return, she curled her fingers into his chest, groping for something to hold on to, but finding only bare skin.

The far-away ring of a telephone penetrated her consciousness but she pushed away the intruding noise. He didn't seem to care who was calling either, because he'd lifted her shirt and cupped his big hands around her waist, letting his thumb trail up her sides. He paused beneath the strap of her bra. Still kissing her, he grazed her breasts over the fabric, teasing her nipples into tight, rigid peaks.

That's when his answering machine kicked on, a male voice sounding loud in the room. “Hey, bro, read the paper
. Is
an engagement next?” A loud chuckle followed. “By the way, good publicity for Dad's bar. The blogger mentioned it by name. Talk to you later.”

Somehow Lexie managed to separate herself from Coop. He was breathing as hard as she was. His eyes were wide and glazed and she wondered if he was as stunned as she. They'd gone far fast. Normally, Lexie took her time before getting this close to any man, especially since Drew, but this thing with Coop seemed to have a life of its own, which meant it was only a matter of time before they… She shut her mind down, deliberately not
finishing the thought. Her body was still tingling from that kiss. How far would they have gone if they hadn't been interrupted? She trembled at the thought.

But they
had
been interrupted and the message reminded her of the one thing they hadn't yet discussed.

“Did I mention that the blogger thinks we might be getting engaged?”

“E
NGAGED
.” C
OOP TRIED
to process the word.

“Someone snapped some pictures of us last night at the exact moment when you were showing me the ring, so it looked like you might be…proposing.” Lexie rose and tried to smooth the nonexistent wrinkles in her clothes.

He wasn't sure what had her more flustered, the reminder of the blog or that kiss. He sure as hell knew which one had hit him hardest. One feel of her lips and soft curves and he'd forgotten all finesse. His brother's call served as a reminder to slow down and Coop intended to heed the warning. He might want to run his fingers through her hair and pick up where they left off, but Lexie wasn't a quick lay. They had business together and dammit, he
liked
her. Wanted to get to know her better…even if he did want her in his bed.

“Do you want to see the blog?” she asked.

“I'll check it out in the paper later.” He didn't need a visual. “I just can't believe the lengths people
will go to. Someone must be following me,” he said in disbelief.

“That or else someone at the bar recognized you, snapped the picture and e-mailed it to the blogger. Who knows?”

Since she didn't seem upset by the inaccurate news, he decided not to get worked up over it, either. There were worse things than to be paired with a beautiful woman. Besides it would keep the Bachelor stalkers at bay.

“The best thing to do is ignore it. Bigger news will come up eventually and replace me.” He hoped.

Lexie laughed. “There won't be bigger news for my grandmother, I'm afraid.” She picked up her glasses and slid them back on.

“She reads the Bachelor Blog?”

“Yep. And she's latched on to the idea that I could have a serious suitor.”

“I take it she's happy with the notion?”

“Ridiculously so.” Lexie placed her hands on her hips and walked around his apartment, eyeing the mess left by the burglar. “So are you working today?” she asked.

He shook his head. “I took the day off. After everything that's gone on, my editor didn't mind and I needed time to figure all this out.”

“Not to mention the fact that you need to clean up?”

He groaned. “Please don't remind me.”

“How about I help you instead?”

He hesitated, surprised by the offer. “I couldn't ask you to do that.”

She smiled. “You didn't. Besides what better way to get to know the real you than by helping you sort through your personal effects?”

She scanned the items spread across the room and frowned, an adorable pout that brought back memories of her lips on his, her tongue deep in his throat.

“Unless you'd rather do it alone?” she asked, oblivious to his wandering thoughts, which he reined in.

“Are you kidding?” he asked. “I'd appreciate the help and the company. I can't say I kept the place in great shape before the robbery, so anything we do might be an improvement.”

“Great. Let's get started.” She walked over to the bookshelf and began picking up his hardcovers one by one, replacing them by height.

Joining her, he stacked the books, handing her one at a time. They worked in comfortable silence for a while, then started talking about the books he'd kept over the years.

“How about you?” he asked. “What's your place like? Are you a neat freak or do you prefer clutter?” He couldn't judge that part of her yet.

“Hmm. That's a complicated question because I don't have my own place.”

He narrowed his gaze, wondering what she meant. “Do you have a roommate?”

“In a manner of speaking.” She paused, turning to face him. “She's almost eighty years old, has lived in the same building for the last forty years and has a spare room she doesn't mind letting me use when I'm around.”

“Your grandmother?” Coop recalled her mentioning that the older woman was spry for her age, but maybe she had other issues that necessitated aid.

Lexie nodded.

“Does she need live-in help?”

“God, no! She'd slap you for even suggesting such a thing.” Her eyes twinkled at the thought. “Grandma is as independent as they come. But she has a spare bedroom and I figure what's the point of paying rent all year round when I'm not there on a consistent basis?”

A sick feeling settled in his gut. As much as he'd like to ignore this subject, the more he knew the better prepared he'd be. “How often do you leave town? Or should I ask how long you stay around?”

“It all depends. I can go on short trips for a few weeks at a time or monthly journeys if I choose to. That's the beauty of my line of work. I can stay connected and do it from almost anywhere.”

He shook his head, unable to understand the appeal of her lifestyle. “Why leave?”

She spread her hands in front of her as if the answer were obvious. “Sometimes it's a new venue I want to see, other times I just get antsy staying in one place for too long.”

Just like his ex, Annie, who had loved her job as a flight attendant. Which hadn't threatened him at all at first. The insecurities came later, when she'd take on more flights, finding excuses not to come home.

He pushed the thoughts and similarities aside. Lexie wasn't his ex. He didn't know her well yet or even understand her motives for how she lived.

But he remained curious. “So those books we talked about your having read and liked? You don't own them? What about
stuff?
Don't you need a place to keep your things?”

“I own a few old books that I leave at my grandmother's, and anything else I can download on my e-reader. Like I keep telling you, technology is a beautiful thing!”

“Do you miss having a place of your own?”

“But I
do
have a place. My grandmother has always been my refuge, so it's the closest to home I've ever had,” she said simply.

Clearly, to her it made sense.

Walking over, he placed a hand on her shoulder. “What did you need refuge from?” he asked.

They'd long since stopped cleaning in favor of conversation, but he sensed that Lexie needed to
keep busy, as she paused to rearrange some of the hardcover books they'd just shelved.

Then she pointed to the paperbacks. “Can you hand me those next?”

He did as she asked.

While she placed the books in order, switching them from upside-down to right-side up, she finally started to explain about her childhood.

“I come from a very
driven
family. Dad's a banker, Mom is a lawyer and my sister followed in our father's footsteps. I was more of an
oops
in their carefully planned life. I was unplanned and, to add insult to injury, I didn't act like them, either. They wanted me to follow their goals—I wanted to take things as they came.”

“So you're unique.” He'd sensed that from the first time they'd met.

She smiled. “And you're kind. My parents, once they realized they couldn't mold me into their image, came to see me as more of a…disappointment.” Her voice cracked on the word.

And so did his heart, hurting for the little girl who couldn't please her family. Coop might not have lived up to his father's ideals, but it wasn't for lack of trying. And he'd always felt his father's love.

“It's their way or no way,” Lexie went on. “Grandma always wonders how she had such a
stick-in-the-mud for a son and she pushes his buttons whenever she can.”

Coop laughed. “Hey, not all family members are alike. It's okay for you to be different.”

Lexie released a wry chuckle. “I wish someone had explained that to my parents. Don't get me wrong—they loved me and wanted me to have every opportunity available—as long as they chose the opportunity. So at five years old when my ice skating talent became obvious, they started to push me toward competition.”

“Let me guess,” he said, continuing to work with her on the cleaning. “You hated it.”

“Actually, I loved skating. I just hated the rigorous schedules that came with their goals. I hated the conformity of the routines. And as I got older, I hated the competitiveness between skaters and even the adults in that world.”

“Did you tell them?” He wondered if she'd felt comfortable enough with them to be honest.

She nodded. “I tried. But nobody listened. So throughout my teenage years, I was at the rink at 5:00 a.m., working with a coach and competing. Until finally my grandmother stepped in.”

“How did she save you?” He was fascinated by this glimpse into her early life and the things that had formed the woman she'd become today.

“One day she picked me up after school for
skating practice, took one look at my face and instead of going to the rink, she drove upstate. We went hiking at Bear Mountain. We watched the leaves turn colors and enjoyed the outdoors. It gave me a much-needed break.”

As she recounted the memory, color flooded Lexie's cheeks, almost as if she were actually there, outdoors with the cool wind biting at her cheeks. There was no doubt this woman knew her passions, Coop thought.

“She obviously gets you,” he said, meeting her gaze. “You're lucky to have her.”

She nodded. “You sound like you understand. From experience?”

He inclined his head. “Yeah. My mom,” he said gruffly. Coop swallowed hard and decided not to explain about the shoulder injury and being forced to drop out of the academy and stuck to the subject at hand. “She knew I loved writing, recognized my talent and guided me toward journalism. She got me.”

Lexie smiled, her expression full of warmth and understanding. “Like my grandmother gets me.”

“We were close. With my father and brother, I always felt like the outsider. I still do,” he admitted. “So how did your grandmother fix things?” Because he had no doubt she had.

Lexie smiled. “She staged an intervention of sorts. She'd met Yank Morgan, the sports agent, at
the rink and they'd become good friends. She and Yank sat my parents down and explained that championship skating wasn't only about talent but also desire. And desire is in someone's heart.” She placed her hand over her chest. “Either you're born with it or you're not. And forcing me to compete might gain me medals but it would break my spirit. Which, in my grandmother's opinion, wasn't worth the cost.” Her voice cracked slightly.

He brushed his hand across her cheek, grateful for the insight. “Did she win the battle?” Coop asked.

“At first Dad said only horses had spirits that could be broken and Grandma told him if he believed that then he was a horse's ass.”

Coop snickered and Lexie grinned.

“Yank told them to let me be a kid and find my own way. Mom and Dad gave in, but to this day I can't say they understood why I was so unhappy doing something I was good at.” Lexie rubbed her hands together as if warming herself. “So now you know. Nobody in my life gets me.”

“Except your grandmother.”

“Exactly.” She nodded. “And you?” she asked hopefully.

He inclined his head, unsure of how to answer.

Traveling fed her spirit—that much he understood. It was ironic. After promising himself he wouldn't get involved with a woman who wasn't
capable of putting down roots, he'd gone and done just that.

Gotten involved.

Too much to just walk away. But neither could he afford to invest more of himself because he already knew he could fall hard.

“Hey, are you hungry?” he asked, changing the subject to one easier to handle and that definitely placed distance between them. “We could break for an early lunch.”

“I'm always hungry.”

He laughed. “A girl after my own heart.” His own skipped a beat at the thought.

Short-term, he reminded himself. They could hang out together for as long as it took to investigate the history of the ring and for her to build his Web site. She'd be here and gone.

At least this time he knew what to expect up front.

 

F
OR
L
EXIE
the day passed quickly, cleaning broken up by lunch at a local pizzeria, but no more kisses. There was also a quick stop at a bank where Coop opened a safe deposit box. He stored the ring inside and together they worked for the rest of the day, putting Coop's apartment back in order.

She'd been fielding phone calls from her grandmother all afternoon, first asking where she was and then which client she was with. When her grand
mother had realized Lexie was with Coop, Charlotte began sending her text messages.

When had her grandmother learned to text?

Invite ur yung man to dinner.
Apparently, Grandma also thought she was young enough to send text slang. To which Lexie had replied,
he's not my young man
. But Charlotte wasn't about to be deterred.
Rest of city thinks U R engaged. Bring him to meet the parents. Aka me
.

And so it went. Lexie tried ignoring her, but the texts only piled up.

The best part of the day was that Lexie now had a glimpse into how Coop lived. The walk-up was cozy. A one-bedroom with purely masculine flavor and appeal. The centerpiece of the living room was a big-screen TV; a desktop PC sat in the corner, but the bookshelf held a prominent place as well. She could envision him stretched out at night, watching sports or reading, and relaxing after work. His home was as comfortable as the man himself.

Or at least as comfortable as the man she'd opened up to earlier today. Ever since they'd returned from lunch, she'd noticed a definite change in his attitude toward her. This, despite how much he'd seemed to understand her differences with her parents. Which meant he'd had more issues than he'd let on with her nomadic way of life. What else could have triggered the change in his mood?

She decided to tread carefully from now on and not read too much into that kiss. A kiss she still couldn't forget. Hours later and her body was still trembling. A quick look at his handsome face and a distinct tightening twisted inside her stomach. But he'd made no more sexy overtures and so neither did she.