Love at High Tide (5 page)

“Coop, I don’t know what to say.”

Now that, he had expected. “Join the club. Nobody knows what to say. How to deal with me. That’s why my family sent me out here to our beach house. Give me some time and space to get my head together.”

“That could take a while. How together was your head before all of this?”

The teasing jab, delivered while she still hugged him, gave him a dose of normalcy his family didn’t. They all walked on eggshells when they spoke to him. It was about time someone yanked his chain. Coop tugged on her arm until she moved between him and the rail.

“Maybe I don’t need space after all. Maybe what I really need is someone to share my space.” He caged her in with his arms. The scent of lemons and vanilla floated off her waves of hair. Coop buried his nose and took a good whiff. Now he wanted to smell that on her everywhere.

Darcy arched her neck, giving him better access. She flattened her palms against his chest. “Are you asking me to move in with you? Because I think we should at least have dinner before making that sort of commitment.”

“Let’s start small.” Coop used his finger to lightly trace the outline of her bottom lip. It teased a full-body shiver out of her. “Let’s try sharing this space right here.” He moved his hand to anchor in her silky, frothy mass of hair. A light tug lifted her chin and widened her eyes. Coop hovered, a breath away from her lips.

His phone rang. The phone he’d almost left at home. But he’d had faith that his sister would spread the word. Yet a tinny rendition of Tina Turner screaming “We Don’t Need Another Hero” blared out of his hip pocket. Definitely a sister. The good thing about personalizing ring tones to all of them was that he immediately knew who to be pissed at. Either something better be on fire, or somebody be in the hospital.

Darcy laughed and ducked her head. “Go on.”

He punched on the speaker. “Cammie, didn’t Candace talk to you? You’re all officially supposed to leave me the hell alone.” Not willing to let the moment be officially shattered, Coop kept his hand at the back of Darcy’s neck, rubbing with his thumb in a slow stroke.

“I know. I’m sorry. But I had to let you know that Bradley’s on his way.”

“On his way where?”

Darcy smiled at him. Then she palmed his biceps and squeezed. If his sister didn’t state the nature of her emergency fast, the phone was going straight into the bay. A willing woman in his arms was the best pick-me-up he’d found yet. A loving but nagging sister, not so much.

“Bradley’s coming to stay with you,” Cammie said.

The hell he was. Not that Coop had anything against his cousin. They’d grown up as close as brothers. But things were going well with Darcy. Assuming he didn’t screw it up, they’d hopefully need an empty house all to themselves in the next few days. Plus, Brad came with a bucket full of his own shit to deal with right now. Whoever came up with this bright idea better not expect any presents from Coop come Christmas. “Sticking all the problem kids in one place, huh? I thought the beach was my private place to mope.”

“You still can. Just do it with Brad. You might cheer each other up. Honestly, I think he’s as sick of us looking over his shoulder as you are. Heading to the shore was his idea. He should be there in about, oh, twenty minutes, depending on traffic?”

Crap. Just about twenty minutes to sunset. So much for his romantic date. “Thanks for all the advance notice.” He hoped the thick layer of sarcasm frosting his words came through loud and clear.

“We didn’t want to give you a chance to stop him. Look, when Brad came up with the idea, it was the first non-snarly thing out of his mouth in weeks. I didn’t have the heart to make him wait til you sort out your love life. Sorry. Put some clean sheets on the bed, okay? Love you!” Cammie wisely hung up before Coop could begin to let loose his irritation. Guess Brad would get the brunt of it when he arrived.

“So do you really have a beach house here, or is it more of a commune?” Darcy teased.

“Technically it’s a house. But everyone in my extended family uses it as a landing pad from May through October. Without much notice, as you can see.” He scowled at his phone. “It can sleep sixteen, with eight bedrooms. Fourth of July week, we shovel in a few more on air mattresses. My grandparents knocked it together back in the era of cheap land and big families.”

Her petal-soft fingers continued to rhythmically whisper across his upper arm. “Is this unexpected visitor your brother?”

“Cousin. He’s a cop, too.”

“Hmm. Does that mean he’s coming out here to check on you?”

“Nah. I’ve got five sisters who take care of the coddling. Brad’s fiancée dumped him a few months ago. From the way he bites my head off every time we talk, I’d say he’s not dealing with it well. I think the family sent him out here so they wouldn’t have to stare at his sour puss any longer.”

Darcy laughed. “Misery loves company?”

Coop rested his forehead against hers. “I was looking forward to spending more time in
your
company.”

“Ditto.”

“Sunset here really is something. They play the
1812 Overture
right as the sun sinks below the horizon.” He shut his eyes. Again with the stalling. “Sorry, but I have to cut our date short.”

“There are other sunsets.”

To his surprise, she seemed to be taking being ditched in stride. When he added easygoing to being sexy, smart and not shy about sassing him, Darcy appeared to be his dream woman. Maybe Fate had gotten tired of kicking him in the nuts. Or maybe Darcy really was too good to be true. Either way, he wanted the chance to find out. Easing back, Coop draped both arms over her shoulders.

“Look, I can’t let Brad show up to an empty house. I can leave him to fend for himself any other night, but if he’s as upset as Cammie says, I’ve got to get him settled.” Coop closed his eyes and sucked in a breath through his nose. God, he hated talking about touchy-feely stuff. But he owed Darcy the full truth for walking out on their date like a complete jackass. “He’s like a brother to me. Brad helped me hold it together when Doug died. Even drove me to my PT appointments for six weeks straight. I can’t let him twist in the wind by himself.”

“I’ll admit the concept is somewhat foreign to me, but all in all, I think it’s sweet that your family is so close.”

Her kisses probably tasted a damn sight sweeter. “I’m sorry. Can we rain check? I’d really like to continue right from where we left off.”

Playfully, Darcy patted her chest with both hands. “Gosh, I don’t think I can give you my phone number. There just wasn’t any room in this dress to hide a pen and paper.”

“No complaints,” he growled.

“But you know where to find me. The 139th Street dune crossing, and about two hundred yards toward the ocean.”

She looked so beautiful. It took a heroic act of will to step away. “Don’t let me keep you from finishing your drink. I just really have to run.”

“I get it. Honestly, don’t worry.” Darcy sat back down and picked up her glass, frosted with dripping condensation. “I’m anticipating your being worth the wait.”

“Know what the Secret Service motto is?
Worthy of Trust and Confidence.
The past nine months can’t have been a total waste, right? Let me assure you, I am definitely worthy of your confidence when it comes to kissing.” He hoped she could see the banked lust burning in his eyes. And not just think it was a reflection of the setting sun.

“Kiss first. Then I’ll decide if you’re worthy of a badge.”

Yeah. It’d be hard not to fall hard and fast for this woman. But with his entire life up in the air, how did a beach fling fit into the picture? Coop looked over his shoulder at Darcy as he strode down the pier. If necessary, he’d lock Brad outside on the balcony overnight to get alone time with Darcy. Brad preferred to sleep with his gun over a woman right now, anyway. Down on the entire female species, Brad probably wouldn’t want to chance hearing any sounds of lovemaking. And there would be screams and sighs and whimpers, no doubt about it. Coop intended to make Darcy very, very sure he’d been worth the wait.

Chapter Five

“I really appreciate you coming with me tonight,” Trina said as she dodged another swarm of shrieking children. None of them topped three feet. All of them were armed with miniature golf clubs. Watching them run and swing with reckless abandon, Darcy wished she still had her full-body pads from her days as goalie on the high school lacrosse team. Who knew mini-golf was a contact sport?

“Thanks to a lightning fast mini-date, I had the free time. But honestly, if I’d known there was even a chance you planned to spend the evening stalking your suspect, I would’ve called off the date myself.”

“Why?” Trina lifted her camera. She’d announced, amidst flinging clothes out of her suitcase, that her cover for the night was to be a vacationing tourist. Darcy didn’t have the heart to point out that she actually
was
on vacation. So Trina had donned a floppy brimmed hat—even though the sun had set an hour ago—an Ocean City oversized tee, and flip flops. In other words, she looked pretty normal.

The camera was her crowning touch. There were certainly enough kitschy sights around to fill a memory card. Mini-golf courses here were apparently famous for over-the-top themes. On the way in she’d driven past a three-story Mayan temple replica, complete with gushing water and, for no reason Darcy could think of, a fire-breathing dragon on top standing guard. Another had life-size fiberglass dinosaurs, teeth ferociously bared, at every hole. Currently they were hiding at the edge of a cave topped with a Red Baron-esque crashed plane. A steady stream of giggling teenagers posed at the lagoon beneath. Trina, however, used her camera to zoom in on Ivan, atop the suspension bridge. Not a bad idea at all. Far less obvious than the binoculars Daphne had convinced her to leave on the coffee table.

“Safety in numbers, like you said.”

“Aww, you’re worried about me.” Trina’s pleased grin lit up her face.

“A little.”

Already tonight they’d trailed Ivan to Viking Golf, just across the border in Delaware. Well, not so much trailed, but practically run into while on a beer run. Trina insisted they walk the six blocks north to take advantage of Delaware’s tax-free status. The walk turned out to be worth it—for Trina—once they’d glimpsed him putting through the legs of a tall horse statue and its fully armored Viking warrior. Trina all but ran home to assemble her version of an appropriate spy outfit, leaving Darcy to pay and lug home their drinks. They’d gone back to catch him just as he left the course. With the wide, heavily trafficked Coastal Highway between them and their quarry, it was easy to follow him unobtrusively to the next one.

“Does this concern for my well-being mean you’re on board with my Russian pimp theory?” Trina asked.

“No. Not even if he walked out in a white fedora with a purple feather.”

“Ooh, that would be a great look for me, though.” Trina let the camera fall back to her chest. She pulled out her phone and typed in a note. Her apprenticeship with a fashion designer only lasted half a year. The high-pressured atmosphere of that world hadn’t been a good fit. But Trina had discovered a natural talent on the sewing machine. Whenever an idea came to her, she jotted it down and a few weeks later would have a new outfit to wear. “With purple leather pants, and maybe a white lace halter. What do you think?”

Darcy elbowed her in the side. “I think your guy’s on the move.”

Ivan, still in his white shorts topped with a faded OC tank top stretched to its limit across his belly, was easy to spot. He gave his now-signature double-handed squeeze to the ass of a skinny girl young enough to be his granddaughter. Only the sticky humidity of the night kept Darcy from shivering in disgust at his skeeziness as she watched. The circle of girls around him opened, and he waddled toward the exit.

Trina rushed forward all of two feet to peer around a crepe myrtle awash in pink blooms. “Let’s wait for him to hit the street, so we can figure out which way he’s headed. Then we’ll run for it.”

Great. Already Darcy’s hair clung to her damp neck. A thunderstorm must be rolling in, because it felt like the air had been soaking in wet paper towels. Running in her flip-flops sounded just peachy. She left the cave and started down the pebbled path. The smell of chlorine assaulted them as they crossed in front of a too-blue waterfall. “Running isn’t very stealthy, Trina. Better to play it casual.”

“Oh. You’re right. Well, come on then, we’ve got to catch up.” It didn’t take much hustling to get close to Ivan. Probably due to his girth, he trundled down the sidewalk about as fast as a sedated turtle.

“So if you don’t think he’s a pimp, why’d you come with me? Couldn’t stand to pout over Coop all by your lonesome?” Trina asked in a saccharine, sing-song voice.

“First of all, I’m not pouting.” Well, not much. Not that she’d admit to, anyway. “Secondly, Coop didn’t stand me up. I’m sure I’ll see him tomorrow, and we’ll give it another go.” The way the sparks had flown between the two of them, Darcy worried they were responsible for all the static electricity in the air tonight. Coop had a valid reason for cutting the night short. She respected his sense of responsibility. But why oh why couldn’t that call have come five minutes later? After a kiss that showed all the potential of being one heck of a brain scrambler?

“I wonder if the cousin that’s coming into town is as cute as he is. Maybe we could double date.” Trina turned to face Darcy, hopping backward in a tiny dance.

Putting a hand on her bouncing butt, Darcy turned her back around so Trina could actually watch the man she was tailing. “Aren’t you too busy tracking evil to spare any time for something as mundane as dating?”

“James Bond screwed every woman he tripped over. The bad ones and the good ones. If he had time for it, so do I.”

They were headed south. Of course, the majority of Ocean City sprawled south of them for one hundred and thirty-eight more blocks. It didn’t really narrow the possibilities of where Ivan was headed next. “I think I’d prefer you to choose a role model who isn’t almost killed three times in every movie. How about Miss Marple?”

“She didn’t have any sex. Geez, let me live a little.”

“You live plenty. Whereas I’ve been dateless in Africa for months. So how about you let me enjoy at least one night alone with Coop before you start horning in with talk of hypothetical double dates?”

“Fine.” Trina contorted half her face in an elaborate wink. “He’s one heck of a way to break your dry spell. Rockin’ body, awesome hair, lips that look totally biteable—”

Yeah. Darcy almost let her eyelids flutter shut to fully revisit the tan gorgeousness of his chest. Then she tripped right off the curb. Sexy daydreaming did not mesh well with tailing a suspect. “Stop it. He’s mine, and I’m not sharing.”

“Being an only child’s made you selfish.” Trina threw an arm around Darcy’s shoulders. “I am glad you’re hot on the trail with me tonight, though.”

“Me, too. I don’t think Ivan’s a mobster, either, before you ask. But something is off. He sets my teeth on edge. I’ve racked my brain, but haven’t come up with any angle to explain that parade of young hotties past his beach chair. The only thing I know for certain is that it’s weird. Weird and inexplicable often add up to dangerous.” Unfortunately, not dangerous enough to call the police. Just enough that she didn’t want her best friend running around after him all by her lonesome.

“Do you know how many asses he’s patted so far tonight? Six! A hunk half his age couldn’t pull that off. I’m telling you, there’s something hinky about him.”

“Like how he spends his evenings.” Ivan walked into his third mini-golf course in half an hour. This one had a three-story pirate ship, with masts extending up another two stories at least. Thick, nautical-looking ropes cordoned off the paths, backed by beds of bright yellow and orange hibiscus. A cannon fired a shot into a deep pool, and they both jumped.

Darcy crossed her arms. “This is officially beyond weird. He can’t be a golf fanatic, because he hasn’t so much as picked up a club at any of these places.”

“He’s making the rounds.”

Sort of like mob kingpin, glad-handing all his minions. Probably not safe to mention that comparison out loud, though. Trina would jump on it and do something crazy, like immediately calling the FBI. “But for what?”

“I guess we’ll need to get closer to figure it out.” Trina followed the path past waist-high barrels marked
GUNPOWDER
and treasure chests overflowing with colored stones and ropes of fake pearls.

“Isn’t the zoom on your camera getting you close enough?”

“Watching him isn’t getting us anything but sore feet. Besides, a good investigator uses all five senses. We need to listen in on a conversation.”

Bad idea. Despite the throng of families pushing down the path with them, Darcy felt in her bones this was wrong. Nevertheless, she followed Trina into another cavelike structure. This one held two putting greens and a jail cell, complete with a skeleton dressed in rags. Dark and musty, it actually wasn’t a bad spot to hide. On the other side of the bars Ivan held court. A leggy brunette who didn’t look like she’d yet lived through a senior prom spewed out a fast stream of harsh consonants. Whatever language she and Ivan tossed between them like jagged verbal spikes sounded very Eastern European.

“I don’t think listening’s going to clarify anything.” She tugged on Trina’s camera strap. “Let’s get out of here.”

“Wait,” Trina whispered. “Look.”

From beneath her baggy tank top, the girl pulled out a wad of cash. At least an inch thick, rubber-banded in the middle. Ivan slid it into his fanny pack. As he reached around to squeeze her ass, he looked up, right at Darcy and Trina. He shoved the girl aside so hard she stumbled against the rusty iron bars.

“Hey!” His voice echoed off the low rock ceiling. “You two. You come.”

“Okay, now we can leave,” Trina said in a shaky voice. She grabbed Darcy’s hand and hurried out of the cave. The fast, hard slap of flip-flops behind them neared.

Darcy glanced over her shoulder. Arms pumping, Ivan lumbered after them. Bushy eyebrows came together into an angry single line. He hollered again, this time in his own language. She didn’t need a translator to know that whatever he said, it was bad.

“Wanna run?”

“You bet,” Trina huffed before taking off like a pebble out of a slingshot.

* * *

Women were one hundred percent, predictably unpredictable. Cooper knew that some appreciated spontaneity. Others ran away with their hands over their faces, complaining about not wearing any makeup. As he trudged up the three flights of stairs to Darcy’s rental, he hoped she’d land on the side of happy to see him. Or, this was an epically stupid idea.

As soon as Brad zonked out to an Orioles game on the television, Coop jumped at the chance to see Darcy again. Wait a minute. What if she was still at Fager’s? He paused on the landing. She’d looked smoking hot in that off-the-shoulder dress. A crowd of guys probably snapped her up the minute he left. Great. He’d softened her up for a bunch of drunk idiots.

No. Those lips had parted in anticipation of kissing him. And he was damn sure going to follow through before they lost any more momentum. He pounded on the door of what had to be her condo. Two short shrieks, and the sound of glass breaking. What the hell were they doing in there?

Slowly, the door opened a sliver. Icy air arrowed out the crack. He noticed the chain still locked down right at eye level. Darcy kept most of her body behind the door, tilting her head sideways to peek out at him. “Hey there,” said Coop.

She blinked twice, slowly. “This is a surprise.”

“A good one, I hope.”

“How’d you find me?” she asked, without opening the door any further.

“Babe, I’ve got this town wired.” When she still didn’t move, he figured he’d better explain. “I saw the name of your rental unit on the keytag on your towel.” He tapped his temple. “Trained to be observant, remember? Beach Babylon only has six units. I started at the top, and knocked on every door until I hit the jackpot.” Coop waited a moment, then pushed gently against the door with his shoulder. “Can I come in?”

“Oh. Sure. Of course.” She slid back the chain and opened the door a few more inches.

Coop sidled past her, then did a double take at Trina’s near-fetal position on the couch and fright-wide eyes. Her freckles stood out in sharp contrast to a face gone chalk-white. “What’s wrong? Are you two watching a horror flick or something?”

“Umm, yeah.” Darcy rushed him through to the galley kitchen. She wore tight yoga pants that showed off a heart-shaped ass and a thin tank. “Join me in a beer?”

“Absolutely.” He caught her hand. “But first, I brought you something. To apologize for cutting out on my really great date. Excuse or no excuse, it was a douchebag move to leave you alone. I’m really sorry.” From behind his back, Coop extended his hand, holding a large scarlet hibiscus bloom.

Darcy traced the edges of the petals. “Hot, charming and sweet. The dating trifecta. Cooper Hudson, you are the real deal.” She tucked the flower behind her ear. Coop wanted to rip it away and replace it with his lips, trailing around the shell of her ear to finish in a firm nip on the lobe.

Behind them, the door slammed shut. Cooper turned to see Trina sliding the chain into place. Odd. “If you want me to stay all night, ladies, just ask. No need to lock me in.”

“We’re locking everyone else out,” Trina muttered. She stalked back to the couch and curled her arms around a pillow shaped like a starfish. It matched the rest of the kitschy shore décor: plastic tablecloth covered in tropical fish, china lighthouses on every end table, and fake beach grass spearing out of a vase by the slider to the deck. Then Cooper noticed the broken glass and pool of liquid on the glass-topped coffee table. He put the ear nibbling plans on hold.

“Okay, what’s going on here?”

It was subtle, but he caught Darcy shaking her head at Trina. “Oh, no. Don’t pretend everything’s fine.” His hand shot out to capture Darcy’s wrist again. “Not when you’re shaking and that one,” he jerked his chin toward the couch, “looks like a ghost just walked through her. Are you in trouble?”