Get a Clue

Her feet carried her, damn them, one boot on and one boot off, while he watched, calm and thoughtful. Coming to a stop next to him, she stared into the fire, ignoring his gaze, which she could feel running over her. 'Better?' he asked softly as the warmth began to seep into her bones.

'Yes,' she said so grudgingly he laughed as he bent down and helped her out of her single boot.

'So.' When he straightened, he smiled into her eyes with that same confusing mix of heat and affection that felt infinitely terrifying to her. 'What did you forget to tell me?'

'It's a deal sort of thing.'

'Ah. Meaning you want something in return.' Again he slipped his hands into his pockets and turned back to the fire, his smile gone, shoulders slightly hunched. 'The question is, what.''

Too late, she realized the truth. As a cop, he probably got requests for 'deals' every day. Guilt stabbed through her that she hadn't treated him any better than any of the criminals he'd dealt with, but there was no going back now. 'I want to sleep with you.'

That got his attention. Those eyes once again turned and locked on hers, blazing and filled with things that banished her chill. She swallowed hard. 'That is, um…'

'Yeah,' he said. 'I thought you might want to clarify that.'

'I want to sleep with you so I'm not the next body found dead on the cellar floor.'

He let out a long breath. 'Breanne, you don't have to make a bargain for that.'

Her heart began to tumble but she bucked it up because, damn it, neither her heart nor her soul were involved here. They were locked up.

Tight.

'In return for letting me sleep here,' she said, 'I wanted to tell you what Shelly mentioned tonight. They had a break-in last week.'

'A break-in?' He went from mere man to sharp cop in the blink of an eye. 'What was taken?'

'From what I understand, just cash from Lariana's purse. Nothing else.'

He frowned. 'That makes no sense. There's a lot of valuable stuff here.'

'I know.'

'Only Lariana's money? Are you sure?'

'That's what she said.'

'That sounds personal. What did the police say?'

'They didn't call the police.'

He made a rough sound of disgust.

'They didn't want the owner to find out that they'd been leaving the front door unlocked.'

'Anything else?' he asked.

'No.'

He nodded. 'Then there's only one thing left to do.'

'What's that?'

'Go to bed,' he said, and his hands went to the buttons on his Levi's.

Chapter 20

A conclusion is where you go when you get tired of thinking.

– Breanne Mooreland's Journal Entry

Cooper didn't miss the leap of emotion in Breanne's gaze. Except it wasn't Oh, please take me to bed, it was Oh God, he thinks I'm going to sleep with him.

With a harsh laugh directed entirely at himself, he ran his fingers through his hair and headed toward the mattress. 'I'm taking it we need something bigger than a sheet between us this time.' He snatched the folded comforter off the foot of the bed and stalked toward the overstuffed chair in the corner. The small chair. ''Night, Bree.'

She stared at him as he sat and pulled the comforter over the top of him. It was a short comforter, and didn't cover both his chest and his feet at the same time. Perfect. Not only had he been stupid enough to give up the bed, he was going to be cold to boot.

Breanne was still staring at him. 'I thought that you-that we'd-' Her gaze flickered to the bed.

'You thought what?'

'Nothing.' She pulled back the big, thick down comforter that Cooper had reason to know was not only warm and toasty, but would cover him entirely, and slid beneath it, vanishing entirely except for the top of her head and her eyes. Eyes t hat were still locked on him.

Trying to forget her, he shifted to his side, aiming for some level of comfort. There was none to be had. His jeans were cutting off circulation to vital parts. With a sigh, he stood up and stripped them off, then wrapped himself in the blanket that came only to his shins.

Popsicles. His feet were going to be popsicles.

So were his balls. Good move, Ace. With another sigh, he stood up, put his jeans back on, and took a longing glance toward the bed. Looking considerably more comfortable, not to mention warm and toasty, Breanne lay there with only her hair and eyes showing.

Eyes which were closed.

He turned away, thinking, damn, she'd gone directly to sleep, peaceful as a baby, while he sat here chilly, frustrated, and-

'I have another deal,' she whispered.

'The last one didn't work out too well for me, so no, thanks.'

'This one's better.'

He rolled back toward her, then was sorry. Her eyes were dark and haunted, her face strained, her fingers clutching the blanket up to her chin. Not wanting to be affected by her meant shit when his heart clenched without his permission every time he so much as looked at her. 'What is it?'

'I'm…' She let out a breath. 'I'm really scared.'

He sighed. 'Nothing's going to happen to you here, Bree.'

'Yeah.' Sitting up, she pulled her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around her legs. 'I keep telling myself that. The truth is, I'm a little shaky for a lot of reasons.'

'You've been through a rough few days. Anyone would be shaky, even without finding a dead body.'

'Yeah, makes that whole being dumped at the altar thing not that big a deal.'

'It was a big deal for you,' he said quietly.

'You know it's for the third time.'

'Breanne-'

'Don't even try to tell me that's normal,' she said firmly. 'Face it, Cooper. There's something wrong with me. I'm not quite sure what, but there is.'

'No.'

'Maybe it's a sexual thing. Maybe…' She winced. 'Maybe I'm bad in bed.'

Christ, no man was strong enough for this. He pushed out of the chair and moved to the mattress.

She watched him, her eyes sad and shimmering. 'About the deal. Do you think you could-I mean, would you-'

He put a knee on the mattress. 'Don't say it.'