Tall, Dark, and Bad Page 3

  As the group made their way from the drawing room, Henrietta glanced Cooper’s way. “I hope you’re hungry, Mr. Garrett. I understand that my chef, Thomas, prepared quite a feast.”

  “Please call me Cooper,” he said. “I look forward to tasting the fare, but I’d like to wash up first.”

  “Of course.” Henrietta turned to Summer. “Would you kindly show Mr. Garrett … I mean, Cooper, to the powder room?”

  “Of course,” she said and led him down the hall to the small bathroom tucked beneath the stairs. She followed him in and closed the door, realizing too late the room was barely able to accommodate the two of them. “Where have you been!” she demanded, keeping her voice low.

  “Excuse me, Miss Pettigrew,” he said. “Do you have a fingernail brush I could borrow? I’ll bet your people aren’t accustomed to entertaining young men with grease beneath their nails.”

  “What?” Summer just looked at him.

  He held up his hands. “I would like to clean my nails.”

  Summer yanked open the top drawer of the vanity and found a nailbrush. She handed it to him, and he thanked her. “You’re ninety minutes late!” she said.

  He turned on the faucet and began washing his hands. “I was in the middle of something when Warren called.”

  She could only imagine what that something was. The man had trouble written all over him. “And that kiss was highly inappropriate!”

  “Really?” He scrubbed his nails. “I thought it fitting for a couple who is supposed to be in love.” He didn’t give her a chance to answer. “My mistake,” he said. “Next time I’ll just slap you on the back and offer you a cold beer and a cigar.” He saw her reflection in the mirror; she looked annoyed as hell. He rinsed his hands and dried them on the hand towel hanging from a nickel-plated hook. “You know, I can just as well leave.”

  “No!” Summer said, noting the towel had slipped from the hook and fallen behind him. She bent to retrieve it and lost her balance in her tall heels. She groped for something, anything to break her fall, and blushed when she realized she had grabbed Cooper’s belt buckle. “Oh, sorry,” she said, noting he looked quite amused.

  “He reached out and pulled her to her feet. She suddenly found herself pressed against his rock solid body. She tried to step back, but there was no place to go.

  “As I was starting to say,” she said, meeting his gaze, “you can’t leave now. What would people think? You have to stay!”

  “Lady, I don’t have to do a damn thing, and I don’t much care what people think. Like I said, I’m doing Warren a favor. Seems he has the hots for you and did not want to let you down. You ask me, I think this whole thing is ridiculous.”

  “It probably looks ridiculous to you, but my grandmother is ill, and she is worried about me.”

  “Warren briefed me,” Cooper said. “Your grandmother wants to see you happily married before she makes her exit. You and I are supposed to pretend we have been seeing each other secretly.”

  Summer nodded. “That’s the basic premise,” she said. She wasn’t confident they could pull it off. Despite Cooper’s good looks, he was a bit too rough around the edges and the direct opposite of the conservative, clean cut men she usually dated. “It might be more, um, challenging than I thought trying to convince my grandmother, not to mention her guests, that we are, you know, involved.”

  “Is that your way of saying that I don’t measure up?”

  “I’m saying you are unlike the men I usually date. That doesn’t make you a bad person, it makes you different.” She paused before adding, “Are you always this difficult to get along with?”

  “Are you always this critical?” He did not wait for her answer. “Warren might put up with your hoity-toity attitude, but I’ll walk out the same door I came through, and that will be the last you see of me. So you might want to get off your high horse and show a little more appreciation that I even bothered to show up,” he added.

  Summer felt her jaw drop. Hoity-toity? High horse? “You obviously don’t know me well,” she said. “If you did, you’d know those words do not accurately describe me. And for the record, I do appreciate that you are trying to help me, and I have every intention of making it worth your while.”

  “Really?” His eyes raked over her as before. “What did you have in mind?”

  Summer tensed. His look was more than a little suggestive and downright intrusive because of their proximity. Even worse, he knew she was uncomfortable, and he seemed to take pleasure in it. Still … Did he really think she would reward his good deed with a roll in the sack? The mere thought was ludicrous and proved, once again, how arrogant he was. “I intend to pay you very well for your time,” she said coolly, “so you needn’t worry.”

  “I see. And what would you say my time is worth, Miss Pettigrew?” he asked.

  Summer frowned. She needed to escape, put distance between them, and hope the evening passed quickly. “Please excuse me,” she said, reaching for the doorknob. “My grandmother will wonder what’s keeping us.” Cooper covered her hand, preventing her from turning the knob.

  “You didn’t answer my question.”

  Summer refused to let him see how uncomfortable she was. She tried to draw in a deep breath, but the air seemed to have thinned, leaving very little oxygen. Cooper looked smug. He might be raw and unrefined and downright bad-to-the-bone, but those dark good looks and cocky attitude had no doubt served him well in the past. The man needed to be taken down a few notches.

  “I have no idea what your time is worth, Mr. Garrett,” she finally replied, her tone crisp and sharp-edged. “What do bike mechanics earn these days?”

  His smile was maddening. “I wouldn’t think of charging you,” he said. “I’m doing it as a favor to Warren, remember?” He turned the doorknob and opened the door. “Show time.”

  #

  “I hope you don’t mind,” Henrietta said as Summer and Cooper entered the dining room, “but we decided to go ahead with our soup before it got cold.”

  Summer was embarrassed by the gentle reprimand, but she knew she and Cooper had held up the dinner party long enough. “Yes, of course,” she said, reaching for the chair next to her grandmother’s. To her surprise, Cooper nudged her hand aside and pulled it out for her. Then, shrugging out of his leather jacket, he draped it across the chair next to hers and sat down. She almost wished he hadn’t come out of the jacket when she noted the rich lines of his body beneath the snug T-shirt. Summer realized she wasn’t the only one who’d noticed. One of the wives was sending covert looks his way.

  Summer unfolded her napkin and placed it on her lap, at the same time watching Cooper from the corner of her eye. Her grandmother set a formal table; a man like Cooper probably wouldn’t have the foggiest idea which utensils to use. But he surprised her by choosing the correct spoon without a moment’s hesitation.

  “I see Thomas made my favorite pumpkin soup,” Summer said, pleased that he had remembered.

  Henrietta nodded. “Yes. The weather is still cool enough to enjoy it.”

  Summer was thankful Henrietta had mentioned the weather, because suddenly everybody had something to say about it, no matter how mundane. At least it kept the conversation flowing, giving her time to get her thoughts in order.

  “So tell me, Cooper,” Henrietta said. “What do you do when you’re not riding motorcycles?”

  He looked her way. “I enjoy tinkering with them,” he said, “but it has become more of a hobby these days since I don’t have a lot of spare time on my hands. I own a small shop. It keeps me busy.”

  “How did you acquire your knowledge?” she asked.

  He grinned. “Through trial and error,” he said. “I was just a kid at the time. A friend gave me an old bike that was pretty worthless. He told me if I fixed it I could keep it. I finally got it running, but I must have taken it apart and put it back together a dozen times before I figured out what was wrong with it.”

  One of Henrietta’s guests,
an investment banker named Fred, chuckled. “If I tried that, I’d probably have a few pieces left over when I was finished.”

  His wife looked amused. “Darling, you’ve never quite mastered the hammer or the screwdriver. You’d best stick with banking.”

  One of the other men, Allen, spoke up. “Fred doesn’t need to know how to use tools. He can afford to hire someone.”

  Summer glanced at Cooper as a sudden uncomfortable hush fell over the group. Allen looked embarrassed, as if he’d just realized he may have insulted Cooper by insinuating he wasn’t smart enough to land a prestigious, high-paying job.

  If Cooper was offended by the remark, he hid it well. “Actually, I have a pretty good head for figures, but I’ve always enjoyed working with my hands.” He shrugged. “Plus, I like staying active. I can’t imagine sitting behind a desk all day, so I admire those who can.”

  Summer felt her jaw drop. She did not know if Cooper was patronizing the men or if he was genuinely impressed with their skills. Fred and Allen seemed to be wondering the same thing.

  “Staying active is very important,” Henrietta said, “not only for the body, but the mind as well.”

  Fred’s wife nodded. “I couldn’t agree more, Henrietta,” she said. “I try to keep the flab at bay by playing tennis.” She looked at Cooper. “As fit as you are, you must be doing something right.”

  He smiled. “My mother has a small farm out in the boonies. I plant a big vegetable garden each spring. Just staying on top of those weeds and yard work is all the exercise I need.”

  “I love gardening!” Henrietta said. “I used to keep a small vegetable garden, but it got to be too much for me, what with my arthritis and the demands my charity work placed on me. I think food tastes better when you grow it yourself.”

  “I agree.” He winked at her. “If you play your cards right, I’ll bring you a load come harvest. You won’t find better tasting tomatoes.”

  Henrietta beamed at Summer. “I like him already.”

  Summer nodded wordlessly. Cooper Garrett was, without a doubt, the most unpredictable man she had ever met. She tried to imagine him battling weeds with a garden hoe or seeing to his mother’s landscaping needs, but the mental image was foggy at best. She wanted to believe he was sincere in his promise to share his homegrown produce with her grandmother, but that was months away. By then, Henrietta Pettigrew would be a vague memory, a nice elderly woman he’d met only once.

  “My granddaughter did not say how the two of you met,” Henrietta said.

  “She didn’t?” Cooper glanced at Summer. The look in her eyes told him she was not prepared for the question. He stifled a grin as he remembered the snide comment she’d made about mechanics’ wages. “Actually, we met at a biker’s convention,” he said. “Summer was dressed head-to-toe in black leather.”

  Summer, in the process of swallowing a spoonful of soup, almost choked. She realized everyone was staring at her. “Um, yes, Cooper’s right,” she said, dabbing her lips with her napkin. “I, um, attended the convention on business. Worth Advertising was trying to land an account with one of the largest motorcycle dealers in the country.” She gave a playful shrug. “I figured the leather would help me blend.”

  Several of the guests laughed. Henrietta was amused as well. “I don’t care if Summer wears leather seven days a week,” she said, “just as long as she stays away from tattoo parlors and promises not to have all her body parts pierced.”

  “I’ll bet you were the belle of the ball in all that leather,” one of the wives said, clearly amused.

  Summer was quite pleased with her quick thinking, an art she had perfected by working in advertising, where she often had to think on her feet. Cooper Garrett would regret getting into a verbal tussle with her. “I doubt anyone noticed how I was dressed,” she said. “They were excited at the thought of meeting the famous Cooper Garrett.”

  Cooper met her gaze. It was clear that he was wondering what she was up to.

  Henrietta looked from Summer to Cooper and back at Summer. “Well? Would one of you please enlighten us? If I have a celebrity at my dinner table I’d like to know.”

  Cooper scratched his jaw as though trying to come up with something. “Summer is exaggerating,” he said. “I’m hardly a celebrity.”

  “Oh, stop acting so modest,” Summer said. She smiled at her grandmother and guests. “Cooper is a motorcycle daredevil,” she said. “He performs dangerous motorcycle stunts.”

  Cooper opened his mouth to speak, but Henrietta was already making a fuss over him. “Goodness gracious!” she said. “Why didn’t you tell me?” she asked Summer. “I’ve never known you to be so secretive.”

  “As you can see, Cooper likes to play it down,” Summer replied.

  Fred appeared awestruck. “So you’re the next Evel Knieval, huh? I actually saw Evel Knieval perform in 1981,” he added, “while I was on a business trip in California. He and his motorcycle cleared more than a dozen cars.”

  Summer patted Cooper on one hand. “Hon, you should put on a show for Grandmother and her friends.”

  “Do you ever perform for fundraisers?” Henrietta asked.

  He shook his head. “What Summer failed to mention is that I recently decided to retire after taking a couple of spills.”

  “You obviously made a wise decision,” Henrietta said.

  “Sorry to change the subject,” one of the wives said, “but do women buy motorcycles or is it strictly a guy thing?”

  “I’m seeing more and more ladies in the shop,” he said. “There is a new bike out that is specifically designed for them. It is smaller, weighs less, but it is still pretty powerful. Plus, it comes in fashionable colors.” He smiled. “We refer to them as the Bling Machines.”

  One of the guests who had not been quite as talkative as the others finally addressed Cooper. “If I was thirty years younger, I might consider buying a motorcycle,” he said.

  His wife eyed him speculatively. “You know, I think you’d look sexy on a bike.”

  He looked surprised. “Really?”

  “We could get matching jackets and helmets.” She nudged him, and her smile turned seductive. “Now that the kids are gone, we could just take off on weekends and go wherever we liked.” She made a playful growling sound.

  Fred looked at Cooper. “Do all women get turned on by motorcycles?”

  Cooper nodded. “Bikes are real chick magnets. You should have seen Summer come on to me. I couldn’t beat her off with a roll of barbed wire.”

  Summer rolled her eyes. “In your dreams, Garrett,” she said.

  Henrietta looked from her granddaughter to Cooper. “Was it love at first sight?”

  He grinned. “Summer was completely smitten with me, but I kept her at arm’s length for a while. The last thing I needed was another groupie hanging around.”

  Everyone at the table laughed. “Ha-ha, very funny,” Summer said. “By the way, did you remember to take your medication today?”

  More laughter. Cooper looked amused. A young woman pushed a metal cart through the swinging door leading from the kitchen. She picked up the empty soup bowls and replaced them with Caesar salads.

  Henrietta smiled at her and looked at her guests. “This is Millie,” she said. “She is Thomas’ niece. She helps out in the kitchen from time to time. We’re lucky to have her.”

  Millie blushed but looked pleased as she made her way around the table with an oversized pepper mill, offering the guests freshly ground pepper.

  “Thank you, Millie,” Henrietta said.

  “You’re most welcome, ma’am.” She pushed the cart through the swinging doors and disappeared.

  Henrietta looked at Cooper. “Speaking of love,” she began, “it was love at first sight for my husband and me. I knew the minute we met that I wanted to spend the rest of my life with him. Our parents begged us to hold off, but I’m glad we did not wait. He was still a young man when he died. Had we followed their wishes and gone through a lengthy c
ourtship, we would have had even fewer years together.”

  “I wish I’d had the chance to know Grandfather,” Summer said, relieved that her fictitious relationship with Cooper was no longer the topic of conversation.

  “You would have liked him, dear. He was a little unconventional at times, something of a free spirit, but those were the qualities I loved most.” She smiled at Cooper as she said it. “You remind me of him.”

  “I believe you just paid me a huge compliment, Mrs. Pettigrew,” Cooper said. “Thank you.”

  Summer studied him. Cooper Garrett was an enigma. He did not resemble the annoying man in the bathroom who had responded quite rudely to her. This man was both mannerly and entertaining.

  Once they had eaten dinner, standing rib roast cooked to perfection, roasted new potatoes, and grilled asparagus, Millie reappeared. She removed their plates and served coffee. “Shall I bring in dessert, Mrs. Pettigrew?” she asked.

  Henrietta smiled. “Yes. I feel like showing off a bit.”

  “I think you already have, Grandmother,” Summer said.

  Cooper’s cell phone rang. He pulled it from his pocket and glanced at the number. “Please excuse me,” he said to Henrietta as he quickly stood. “I need to take this.” He hurried from the room.

  Summer wondered what was so important that Cooper had to rush from the table as food was still being served. He’d mentioned having to cancel his plans in order to be there, perhaps with dinner soon to end he and the person on the other end of the line were making plans for later.

  Cooper returned as Millie was serving crème brulee. “More food?” he said to Henrietta. “After all we’ve eaten tonight I’m surprised there is anything left in your pantry.”

  “Thomas insisted on making this for Summer,” Henrietta said. “As a young girl she could practically eat her weight in crème brulee and never gain an ounce,” she added.

  “Those were the good old days,” Summer said. “Once I eat this I may as well toss out my skinny jeans.” The other women at the table chuckled and nodded in agreement, just as Mrs. Bradshaw peeked into the dining room.