Love at High Tide (6 page)

“Yes.”

“No.”

They spoke simultaneously. Coop figured the truth probably lay somewhere in the middle. He ripped off an arm’s length of paper towels and cleaned up the broken glass while the two women glared at each other. Then he dropped into green corduroy recliner, arms stretched out on the sides. “Spill it,” he ordered.

Five minutes later, he deeply regretted ever asking. As she recounted their tale, Trina paced the room, arms waving as though doing calisthenics. And her convoluted tale sounded like a mash-up of hopeful paranoia and unjustified assumptions. Nah, why pretty it up? She was just freaking nuts.

“You said Ivan didn’t follow us.” Trina hurled the accusation at Darcy. “Too fat and slow to be able to keep up with us, you said. But then when Coop knocked on the door, you jumped higher than me. Dropped your beer. Massive party foul. Not a cool, investigator-type move, by the way.”

“No, I said I didn’t
see
him follow us. I didn’t slap a money back guarantee on my observation.” On the couch, Darcy hugged her knees to her chest. “Speed and stamina definitely beat out overweight and angry. We lost sight of him after only half a block, darting through parking lots and back alleys,” she explained to Coop.

It was obvious that Trina had more spunk than smarts, but he’d expected a little more common sense from Darcy. “Alleys? Not what I’d call a safe escape route.”

“The unknown of the dark alley scared us a lot less than the known of an enormous, pissed off Russian chasing us down. We did backtrack six blocks before finally heading home.”

Aha. “Must be when your common sense started to rebound.”

Trina perched on the edge of the coffee table in front of Coop. “So what do we do now?”

He still hoped to lock lips with Darcy, but that wasn’t really a three-way activity. Still, he had to say something. She looked at him with all the hope of a baby bird waiting for its mother to drop food into its mouth. “Watch television. Go to bed. Spend tomorrow on the beach.”

“No, I mean, what do we do next on our case?”

Sugarcoating wouldn’t shut her down. “There is no case.” Coop kept his eyes locked with Trina’s, the same color as the amber ale in his hand. He’d damn well stare her down until resignation drooped her face.

“That’s it?” She spread her hands, as though grasping at the ideas he refused to share.

“Look, I’ve got a headache starting from trying so hard to figure out why you’ve labeled this poor guy a criminal.”

“He sets off my ick-o-meter.”

Coop shoved his hands through his hair. Did Trina even hear the words coming out of her mouth? “Not really an appropriate way to lead off a criminal complaint. Should he be groping women half his age? No. But if they’re over eighteen, it isn’t illegal. You said they’re all going up to him, not the other way around. Which means no grounds for harassment.”

“What about the wad of cash?”

“You said you didn’t see him hand her anything in return. So no suspicion of drugs. She could’ve lost a bet, or be paying rent. The cash by itself isn’t proof of a crime being committed.”

“But he chased us.”

“Because you’d followed him for how long? If I caught someone tailing me, I’d damn well want to know their reason for it. The Cold War’s been over for a long time. We don’t arrest people for having Russian accents. You’ve gotta let this go, before you piss him off any more.” Coop pushed up out of the chair. He’d wasted enough time on Trina’s trumped-up mystery.

“Leaving already?” Darcy asked.

“Only if you come with me. Want to go for a walk on the beach?”

Trina picked up on his less than subtle clue. She left the room with a half-hearted wave. Darcy watched her walk down the hallway. “How about we sit on the deck, instead? Trina got a scare tonight. I don’t want to leave her completely alone.”

He could work with the deck. Hell, he could do a handstand on the rail if it meant getting his lips on hers. Coop pushed open the sliders. Damp, steamy air caressed his skin with the softness of a lover’s touch. The crashing tide roared dully, just out of sight in the inky blackness. Darcy sat on a high stool. She crossed her legs and looked at him expectantly.

“You were quiet in there,” he said.

“Trina was making enough noise for both of us.”

Might as well ask the obvious question. Coop wouldn’t be able to move forward until he knew. “Soooo—you’re not on board with her wild-ass theory?”

“In a nutshell? No.”

“Thank God.” Coop preferred woman with a firm grasp of reality. He leaned against the railing and crossed his ankles. “She’s sweet and enthusiastic, but kind of a crackpot. No offense intended,” he hastened to add. Trina seemed really nice. Just really, really nuts, too.

“I’ve pointed out to her several times that she’s pole-vaulted to a wildly improbably conclusion. The only reason I tagged along was to keep her out of trouble.” Darcy shifted, curling her fingers around the fancy ironwork of the seat. “However...”

Coop held up one hand. “Don’t go there.”

“Where?”

“Whatever alternate reality has you imagining there’s a speck of truth to her delusions about this Ivan guy.”

“I’m not saying he’s a criminal. But if I was a cat, all my fur would stand on end when he’s around. Something is off about him.” Darcy shook her head. “Never mind. You didn’t come over here to talk shop. How’s your cousin settling in?”

Oh yeah, the pain in the ass who’d ruined their date. “I gave him a beer and a sandwich, put him in front of the O’s game. He worked about eighteen hours straight before driving out here. We’re in the same MSP division, so he’s been tying up my loose ends. Brad started snoring before I put the lettuce back in the crisper.”

“Aww, he sounds so grateful that you stranded a beautiful woman in order to rush home and throw sheets on the bed.” Darcy’s sarcasm cut cleanly, like a shark’s fin breaking the water.

Coop leapt at the opening she’d provided. Time to get this visit back on track. They’d wasted enough time on Trina’s wild goose chase. “Well,
I’m
grateful he fell asleep.” He leaned forward from the waist, bracketing her with both hands on high back of her stool. Close enough to catch a heavenly whiff of the lemon cake scent of her hair. Close enough to see her eyes dilate to the golden edge of her pupils. “Gave me the chance to finish what we started.”

“Sorry to break it to you, but you’re about twenty hours too early to share a sunset with me.” She jerked her chin toward the inky, star-filled sky.

“I don’t care that I missed the sunset. What I hated was missing this.” Leaning forward another inch, Coop brushed his lips across hers. Light, soft, just testing the waters. At least, it was supposed to be. As soon as they touched, an electric tingle sparked through his bloodstream. The option of going slow disappeared. He pushed his thighs between hers. One hand anchored in Darcy’s thick, silken mass of hair, and the other slid to the small of her back to pull her close.

Coop deepened the kiss. Nipping at her lower lip rewarded him with both a breathy moan and the chance to slide in his tongue. Darcy met him, thrust for thrust, exploring, tasting, and setting him on fire. From the way she dug her nails into his back, he assumed she felt the same way. Especially when she wrapped her legs around his waist. It lined up his cock right against the vee between her thighs that radiated heat straight through his shorts.

The pressure gave him a jolt. They’d gone from zero to holy-shit-this-was-freaking-amazing in less than a minute. Warm, soft and writhing in his arms, Darcy kissed him like her life depended on it. Their passion sent the stool screeching backwards into the wall. Coop almost fell to his knees, but Darcy’s firm grip kept him upright. Unfortunately, she then pulled away.

“We should stop.”

What the hell? Shocked, he managed to skewer his lust in place with an icicle and ease back. “Babe, we just got started.”

“I know. But there’s something you should know before we go any further. Full disclosure.”

Bad, bad words to hear in the middle of making out. Just about as toxic as the dreaded
we need to talk
. Coop swiped his hand across his forehead. “Okay. Hit me.”

“I’m about to fly to Africa. Probably.”

“Tonight?”

“No.”

Whew. He ran his hand over her shoulder, ready to pull her back into his arms. “Then where’s the problem?”

Darcy moistened her lips, looked at her lap, then finally blurted out, “I’ve been offered a full-time spot on the research team I interned with for my dissertation. It would mean moving to Africa for at least the next year, if not longer.”

His mouth quirked up at the corners. “Thought you hated the desert?”

“Hence the ‘probably’ riding the coattails of my full disclosure.”

Crap, she was serious. “Um, this job sounds right up your alley. Aside from the location. Congratulations, I guess.”

“I guess,” Darcy echoed softly. Her hands moved restlessly up and down her thighs. “Too bad I’m not interested in it at all. My parents and my advisor practically have my bags packed already. And nobody else is lining up to nab me. I’d be stupid to turn it down.”

“Not stupid.” If there was one thing he knew about this woman besides the fact she turned him into a human inferno, it was that she had a quick and facile mind. “Walking away from a sure thing takes a huge amount of guts. Brave, but definitely not stupid.”

“Thank you.” That full, kiss-reddened lower lip quivered up into a smile. The sight of it pulled his lust straight to the front of his thoughts. Continuing to ignore it would be tough. Coop confronted the problem head-on.

“So if you’re not packing or hopping on a plane tonight, why’d you slam on the brakes?”

“Because you’re an amazing kisser.”

“Trust me, there’s plenty more where that came from.”

“I’m sure. But I didn’t want to lead you on under false pretenses. You see, the Africa job is why I’m here. I have to let them know my decision within three days. This trip is supposed to be a chance for me to not just relax, but figure out if I want to take it. Or, stay here with no immediate job prospects, and no place to crash except for Trina’s spare bedroom.”

“Those are some tough issues.” And a welcome change from incessantly mulling over his own career problems. “I’m happy to help you talk through all the pros and cons, if you want. However, there’s no reason why we can’t sandwich that talk between lots of kissing.”

“Really?”

“Darcy, you’re fun to be with, beautiful, and you push every one of my buttons. In a good way. I’d be an idiot to walk away just because you can’t promise me more than a week.”

“You want me for the whole week, huh?” she teased.

He captured her chin between his thumb and forefinger. “I want you. Period.”

The whoosh of Trina opening the sliding door separated them once again. She hung the upper half of her body onto the deck. “Sorry, but I can’t get one of my bedroom windows to lock. No way are we going to sleep until we’re locked down tighter than a submarine prepping for a dive.”

“Must be my cue to leave.” He paused. “Do you want me to make a sweep of the place before I go? Give you the official stamp of police department security approval on your window locks?”

“No. Thanks, but I think that might freak Trina out even more. Her window just takes an extra jiggle and a thump to lock.”

Coop dropped a final, feathery kiss on Darcy’s lips. “I’ll see you on the beach tomorrow.”

“I’m really glad your cousin fell asleep,” said Darcy.

He agreed. Hell, their private makeout session on the deck got a lot wilder than they could’ve in public at Fager’s. Maybe Brad didn’t owe him after all. Maybe Coop owed his cousin a full pancake breakfast of gratitude tomorrow.

Chapter Six

“Thanks for staking out our spot,” Trina said. She lumbered up beside Darcy carrying three shopping bags, her beach tote, and holding her hat to her chest with her chin. Today’s suit was a combination of bright lemon swim shorts, and a white and yellow polka dot bikini top. “I’m glad you didn’t wait for me. Being early is the only way to nab the prime beachfront real estate. I hate being stuck behind rows and rows of people. There’s only so much hot sand you can run across to get to get to the water before the bottoms of your feet start to burn.”

“How come the girl who wouldn’t go to the bathroom alone last night crept out of the apartment without waking me up?” Darcy rose to her knees on her towel striped in three shades of green. She’d been mildly alarmed to find Trina absent this morning. The cryptic note crinkled beneath a bag of bagels said simply
stuff to do—back later.
Hard to tell what sort of trouble Trina was stirring up on her own.

“Figured you were dreaming of dreamy cop Coop. Didn’t want to wake you up in the middle of something, you know, hot.”

“Very thoughtful, but unnecessary.” She’d stayed awake, tossing and turning, replaying the kiss in her mind over and over again. Wondering what would happen next time. By the time she’d finally dropped off around three-thirty, Darcy had been far too exhausted to dream. No need to tell Trina, though.

“Besides, it’s silly to be nervous in broad daylight. I can’t be a scaredy cat if I’m going to be a good investigator. So last night was my one and only case of nerves. From now on, I’m steady as a rock. See?” She dropped her bags at the base of the umbrella, extending a pale hand tipped with neon green fingernails.

“I’m glad you’re not scared anymore.” Darcy didn’t want a repeat of the 3:00 a.m. knock on the door with Trina’s plea to be her bathroom buddy. “But didn’t you hear Coop tell you to let this whole Ivan thing drop?”

“Of course I did. Doesn’t mean I’ll let him railroad me into stopping. Police are often the last to get on board with an investigation. Says so right here.” She whipped out a paperback emblazoned with
I
Spy A Brand New P.I.
across the cover. The words were embossed onto a picture of yellow and black crime scene tape. Darcy didn’t see it as a good omen.

“Oh, Trina.” She sighed. How to stop this without squashing her friend’s spirit in the process?

Trina plopped onto the towel Darcy had laid out for her hours before. “If Coop’s right, Ivan isn’t dangerous. This is just a training case. There’s a chance we’ll tail Ivan all week and not learn anything. There’s also a chance we’ll find out what deep, dark secret he’s hiding. Either way, I’ll be one big step closer to being an investigator.”

Of all the problems with Trina’s logic, Darcy honed in on the most immediate. Or at least, the most personal. “Wait, did you say
we?
”

“You’re the one who pushed the whole safety in numbers thing. If I let you tag along, you won’t worry about me.”

Well, if Trina wanted to split hairs, Darcy would be worrying about
both
of them. “We shouldn’t even so much as glance at Ivan any more. He’s seen us now. We’ve already made him nervous. And annoyed.”

“I’ve got that covered.” Trina rattled the bags. “I stocked up on supplies. Three wigs, two hats, assorted sunglasses, and four different shirts. An extra battery for my phone, so we can research on the move and always have its flashlight beam at the ready. A magnifying glass for when we do find clues. And pepper spray in case he chases us again.”

Darcy fell backward onto her towel. Then she rested her arm against her eyes, hoping it would blot out the image of her klutzy, accident-prone friend carrying something that volatile. Might as well pop the pin out of a grenade and hand it to a puppy to use as a chew toy. “I don’t want to participate in anything so dangerous it requires me to carry pepper spray.”

“Well, if you believe Coop, it isn’t dangerous. Consider it me being over-prepared.”

“Driving around with two umbrellas in your car is over-prepared. Carrying pepper spray will just lure danger to us like a magnet.” Trina had an uncanny knack for attracting trouble on her best days. She was always the one—the only one—who got caught ditching class. Or decorating the principal’s house with toilet paper. At Darcy’s college graduation, Trina had managed to lob a beach ball directly at the speaker’s podium. It knocked off and broke the chancellor’s glasses. On the bright side, it had cut his speech mercifully short.

“Don’t be silly,” Trina scoffed. “It’s a concealed weapon, not a cursed amulet.”

Darcy rolled onto her stomach. The crashing waves created a steady drone like that of a plane passing overhead, but repeating every five seconds. She turned her head to the side and opened her eyes. “That doesn’t make me feel even an iota better.”

“Then I’ll carry both of them. You’ll just have to stick close to me.”

“Tell me one thing, before I embark
again
down this path.” She picked up the paperback and lightly whapped it against Trina’s knees. “Have you read the book?”

“Cover to cover. Dog-eared important pages, highlighted things, the whole shebang.”

“Prove it.”

“Fine.” Trina squirmed a bit, looking all around her. Finally she pointed down a few groups. “See that woman smiling at her grandkids?”

The woman beaming at three toddlers banging shovels at the sand was easy to spot. She wore a hot pink visor with the elaborate white logo of the Ritz-Carlton. A white canvas tote tricked out with the same logo in gold rested at her feet. Matching gold sandals gave her the look of someone late for bridge at the club.

“What about her?”

“Investigating is all about being observant, and applying logic to said observations. Using Occam’s Razor. You know, how the simplest explanation is usually the right one.”

“Oh, I know what it is. I didn’t realize
you
knew about it.”

Trina rolled her eyes. “I told you I read the book. So here’s what I think about that woman. We’ll call her Sandra.”

“Are you going to name everyone at the beach by the time we leave?”

“Just the ones I want to talk about. Now I think she doesn’t travel much, beyond coming to the beach every year. Her umbrella and chair are faded, which means she’s been here before. If Sandra traveled all the time, she wouldn’t be all tricked out in the Ritz gear. She’d take it for granted. Judging from her wrinkles, I’d say her husband probably took her to one for her 50th birthday, and she’s very proud of it.”

Darcy jolted upright. “You used deductive reasoning to make an extremely logical assumption. I’m astounded.”

“You said the same thing when I sent you the picture of the haircut I gave my father.”

“Well, it was surprisingly good. Even on the sides, with trimmed sideburns.”

“I don’t quit all these jobs because I’m bad at them.” A rarely heard tone of somberness deepened Trina’s words. “I move on because I’m looking for something that really gets its hooks into me. Trust me, I’m ready for this.”

After that, what choice did Darcy have but to fall in line? And, yet again, be grateful for the complex mish mash of beautiful qualities that made up her best friend. “Okay. I’ll partner up with you. As long as I get first choice of wigs.”

“Great!” The exuberant Trina that Darcy was used to re-emerged, bouncing on her knees as she pulled out all her purchases. “Besides, it’ll be a good distraction from everything else you have to worry about.”

“I’m not worried about anything.” Darcy worried her bottom lip with her teeth. “I’m mulling my options. I’m pondering. There’s a difference.”

“You’re dithering. You’re stalling,” Trina said in a sing-song voice.

“I’ve got three whole days before I have to decide the rest of my life. I’m utilizing my entire decision-making window.”

In response, Trina blew and loud, very wet raspberry. “Fancy, PhD talk for waffling.”

“How did you know we had waffles for breakfast?” Coop wandered up to their patch of sand. Darcy first noticed that again he was shirtless. His turquoise board shorts dipped low on his hips, showcasing the dark trail of hair that arrowed straight down from his belly button. Wow. She would toss every single book she’d brought to read this week if she could just stare at his abs non-stop for the next five days straight. Then she muted her roiling lust long enough to pick up on the presence of a somewhat shorter, more muscled version ranging next to him.

“Does your beach house come with its own cook?” she asked.

The other man snorted. “If it did, the first three waffles wouldn’t have been burned to a crisp.”

“Ungrateful ass,” Coop muttered. “Ladies, this is my cousin, Bradley Hudson.”

Brad waved, shirtless as well. His trunks were red, and his biceps were almost twice as big as Coop’s. Was there such a thing as too much eye candy? Trina certainly didn’t seem able to do anything but goggle at him.

Darcy thrust out her hand. “Darcy Trent. And that’s my friend Trina Trimble.”

He shook as hard as if he was working an old-fashioned water pump. “Nice to meet you.”

“You are just the dreamiest thing I’ve ever seen,” murmured Trina.

“Um, thanks?” Clearly uncomfortable, he scratched the back of his neck. Just as clearly, Coop didn’t bother to hide his smirk. Brad pointed at the pile on the towel. “What’s all this? It’s about four months too early for Halloween.”

“And forty degrees too hot,” Coop agreed. He stared for another second, then his brow furrowed. Uh oh. Darcy bet Trina was in for a stern lecture. He stirred his finger in a wide circle over the pile on the towel. “Trina, this looks like an attempt at a disguise. Please tell me I’m wrong.”

“You’re a man. I’m sure you’re wrong all the time,” she said, tart as a lemon ice.

Coop and Brad shared a look, the same pained look that men shared worldwide when women pointed out their obvious failings. Darcy had gotten a kick out of seeing her Tuareg tribesmen do it. The women of the tribe had not shared her amusement.

“Level with me.” Coop dropped to a crouch. Darcy noticed this as it brought his miraculous abs to within inches of her lips. She scooted backward to the edge of the towel. It put a little more space between her and six-plus feet of walking, talking temptation. “Do you plan to continue stalking—because that’s what it is at this point, make no mistake—that poor Russian guy?”

He’d slapped on his serious cop face, and used a deep, serious voice that probably intimidated confessions out of everyone he dragged into an interrogation room. It sent a thrilled shiver up Darcy’s spine. And yet Trina looked completely unphased. In fact, she rose to her knees to confront Coop nose to nose.

“Yes, I do plan to use these very
clever
—” Trina sneered down her nose at him, “—disguises to continue to watch Ivan, and assess his daily interactions. From afar. Far enough he won’t notice or object, anyway.”

“My cousin here filled me in on what you’ve been up to. Going any further—it’s a bad idea.” Brad, hands fisted on hips, sounded like a dad banning his daughter from going to a party with the cool kids.

“It isn’t a bad idea,” she insisted. “I’m taking precautions. Trust me, I don’t want to get up close and personal with him. My tiny ass wouldn’t survive one of his ham-fisted squeezes.”

Coop shut his eyes for a moment. Resignation thinned his lips. “I’m not going to be able to talk you out of this, am I? Well, don’t do anything stupid. I mean,” he hastily corrected himself, “good luck.”

Shaking her head till her ponytail whipped her cheeks harder than a jockey going down the stretch, Trina assured, “We’ll be careful, I swear.”

“Wait. What? We?” One foot slid back under him. Coop landed hard on his hands and knees, planted nose to nose with Darcy. “You’re doing a ride-along?

His stern attitude was a lot less thrilling when aimed right at Darcy. Coop didn’t lose all his sex appeal. But she noticed it a little bit less, what with the forbidding set to his jaw. “Safety in numbers, right?” How was the cliché so much less convincing now than when she’d spouted it at Trina?

After giving her another one of those dead-calm stares, he eased back. Picked up the blond pageboy wig and dangled it from his hand. And even through her super-dark sunglasses, Darcy caught the naughty twinkle in his eyes. “If I let this drop, are you going to model these for us?”

Trina snatched it back. “Was that a test or something? Don’t blow our covers before we even get a chance to use them. We’re trying to keep a low profile. The book’s very clear on that.”

Brad sank to the sand, laughing. “A book? A book on what? How to single-handedly restart the Cold War? Cooper here told me all about your Russian mobster and/or pimp scenario. Why not take it a step further? What if he’s an undercover KGB agent?”

It took every ounce of self-control Darcy could muster not to grin, even a little. These guys were fun. Maybe the teasing approach would stop Trina from going off half-cocked. Logic certainly hadn’t slowed her down at all. Then again, logic and Trina were like oil and water. Able to mix briefly, but they never remained combined for very long.

With the back of her hand, Trina sent the paperback flying across the towel towards Brad. “This book makes an even dozen I’ve studied.” Her answer surprised Darcy. Sounded like Trina was taking this stab at investigation much more seriously than her previous approaches to employment. “It’s important to do research when starting a new career. I never jump in blindly.”

“How often do you do it?”

Another flip of her hand. “Oh, whenever the mood strikes. If something isn’t fun, I move on. Life’s too short not to have fun every day.”

Right there, that was another huge reason why Darcy would stop complaining and follow Trina anywhere this week. Her indomitable, sunny spirit never failed to pick Darcy up.

Brad’s mouth hung open a little. “Seriously? You just abandon careers on a whim?”

“If I happen across something I think I’ll like better, sure.” Trina shrugged. She supported herself, paid all her bills. Didn’t even need a roommate to help with rent. In fact, Trina took great pride in her independence. So Darcy knew she’d never fully clued in as to why other people were so aghast at her tasting-menu approach to employment. “When I finally find my true calling, I’ll stick. But even then, I’ll have to be sure it doesn’t swallow me up. Fun and friends will still come first. A paycheck can’t compete with that.”