Get a Clue

'Oh, but it's nothing like how it should be,' the cook told them, still twisting her fingers.

'You did the best you could,' Dante said. 'We all know it. Stop worrying.'

She shot him a tremulous smile.

Dante jammed his hands in his pockets.

Breanne got busy, sliding some cheese and grapes on her plate. 'The best thing I make is reservations, so for me, this is great.'

More relaxed now, Shelly laughed as she picked up the empty tray. 'Then you just wait until tomorrow. I'm going to spoil you both rotten.'

Breanne paused, a grape halfway to her mouth. She set it down and looked at Cooper expectantly.

He knew what she wanted him to say, that tomorrow there wouldn't be two guests, because he was leaving. Instead, he just smiled. He wasn't going anywhere.

Dante moved to Shelly's side and took the tray from her hands. Shelly gazed up at him as if he were a god. Her god.

Cooper wondered what it'd be like to have someone look at him like that.

Not coming close to duplicating the expression, Breanne sent him the evil eye. 'One of us is leaving tomorrow,' she said to Shelly.

Dante shook his head.

'No?' Breanne asked. 'Why not?'

'The roads aren't cleared and no one's going to be able to get to them until the storm passes, which is supposedly no time soon. We're all trapped here.'

'Where do you sleep when you're stuck like this?' Breanne asked.

'Oh, don't worry about us,' Shelly said quickly. 'There are servants' quarters we can stay in. You won't even know we're here.' Leaning in, she began to pour the wine, first for Cooper, and then for Breanne, who scooted her chair back to make room for Shelly. At the odd scraping noise, Breanne looked down, then carefully lifted a sliver of glass. 'Yikes. Something must have broken in here.'

Shelly stared at the glass without moving.

Dante reached in and took the shard. 'No harm done,' he said, then took the bottle of wine from Shelly's fingers, set it down on the table, and directed her from the room.

Silence reigned.

Cooper looked at Breanne.

She pretended not to notice.

'So we're stuck,' he said, making her face it. 'Might as well relax about it.' He hoisted his glass of wine in a toast. 'What do you say?'

She stared at him, then lifted her glass as well, downing the contents in a few gulps before reaching for the bottle.'

You might want to slow down, Princess,' he warned. 'You're at altitude now, and that's going to go straight to your head, fast. Drink some water so you don't get dehydrated.'

She bared her teeth and growled.

He laughed but lifted his hands. 'Just trying to help you avoid getting hung over.'

'I could avoid a hangover entirely by just getting drunk and staying there,' she said miserably, and when he laughed again, she picked up a grape and looked as if she was considering chucking it across the table at him.

Arching a brow, he silently dared her, enjoying being distracted by her frustration. The woman must burn up more stress calories a day than the president of the United States.

Or at least as many as he did at work when adrenaline was flowing and-and that no longer mattered because he'd quit. He'd walked away and had become unemployed. Funny that he'd forgotten, even for a second.

He was just getting into his cheese and crackers when another set of footsteps came down the hall-not light like Shelly's, nor rubber-soled like Dante's. These were heavy, hard, and clinked and rattled with every step.

'What's that?' Breanne whispered, eyes wide.

Step, clink. Step, clink.

'Not a what,' Cooper said, 'but a who.'

'That isn't Shelly or Dante.'

'No,' he agreed.

The footsteps came closer.

Step, clink.

Step, clink.

With a sudden gasp, Breanne rose to her feet, running around the table in those silly heels, directly at Cooper. He reached to pull out the chair next to him for her, but as she reached the corner, her heels slipped and she flew into the home stretch.

It was all he could do to catch her, but catch her he did. Her hair stabbed him in the eye, caught on his jaw, and even went into his mouth, but his brain had locked on the fact that her warm, soft curves were trying to crawl up his body. Her breasts were mashed against his chest, her legs entangled with his. He liked it all, but then again, it'd been so long since he'd had any action, he'd have liked just about anything.

Then an extremely tall, extremely lean shadow filled the doorway with indistinguishable features. 'Sorry,' the shadow said in a heavy Scottish accent. 'But has anyone seen me bloody flashlight?'

Still in Cooper's lap, Breanne froze.

The shadow stepped further into the room. The candlelight caught him, revealing nothing more than a mere mortal man, possibly thirty, wearing a tool belt from which swung a hammer, a wrench, and an assortment of other tools.

Hence the clinking.

Cooper threw an amused look at Breanne, who remained utterly still for one instant before she blew out a short breath and struggled like a wildcat to get out of his lap.

But because he was a sick, sick man, Cooper used his superior strength to hold her against him before craning his head toward the man in the doorway. 'No flashlight, sorry.'

'Well, fuck me,' Scottish said, and scratched his head. His red hair stood straight up. 'I'm trying to get the generator up and running, straightaway.'

'That'd be good,' Cooper said.

'Power lines are down all over the bloody place. It'll be days and days with no electricity if I don't get the generator running.'

Breanne looked horrified. 'Days and days…?'

'Aye. Well, off I go, then.' With another scratch of his head, Scottish walked out.

Step, clink.

Step, clink.

'If I call him back here,' Cooper whispered in her ear, 'will you crawl up my body again?'

'Oh!' she spit out. 'You are so not a nice man!'

'Are you sure? Because a minute ago you couldn't get enough of me.'

'Let me up!'

Enjoying not only the squirming, but the lovely, warm feel of her butt rubbing against his crotch, Cooper did no such thing.

'I said, let me go!'

Grinning down at her, he easily held her against him. 'Not until you say 'thank you, Cooper, for saving my life.''

'You didn't save my life!'

'But you wanted me to.'

She stared at him. 'I can't believe you can walk through a door with your head as swollen as it is.'

And it wasn't the only thing on him swollen, either. Her fidgeting was having another effect on him entirely, and given the way she went suddenly still, she knew. 'What do you have in your pocket?' she demanded.

He let his grin speak for itself.