Kara Lennox - Reluctant Partners

Cooper turned after closing the door and greeted her with a smile. In a pressed Hawaiian shirt, baggy khakis and Top-Siders, he looked even more delicious than the breakfast that no doubt awaited her. Still rather neat, but inching toward Jimmy Buffet casual.

“You look fantastic.”

The way he was looking at her, like he wanted to devour her on the spot, made her feel fantastic. “Thank you. You ordered breakfast?”

“Since you felt pressed for time, I thought this would be faster. I wasn’t sure what you wanted so I ordered a little bit of everything.”

She was so hungry she could eat a little of everything. Maybe even a lot of everything. When she inspected the contents of the covered plates on the rolling cart next to their table, she found eggs, biscuits, pancakes, waffles, French toast, sausage and bacon.

“You weren’t kidding,” she said. “I would love waffles.”

“They’re all yours.” He served them both, poured them orange juice and coffee.

She felt like a princess. It was sweet of him to go to all this trouble and expense just so she wouldn’t feel rushed. She’d ogled the prices on the room service menu. He might be getting the room for free, but she bet he had to pay for the food. This spread probably set him back seventy-five dollars.

She’d never known what it was like to have disposable income. She’d never gone hungry, and her father had earned enough that she had all the necessities. Later, when she was earning her own paycheck, she socked away every spare penny with the idea of buying her own boat.

But luxuries had never been a part of her life, and she felt a little strange letting Cooper provide them for her. But as she crunched down on the perfectly cooked waffle topped with fresh strawberries and whipped cream, she realized she could get used to this.

Hah. Dream on, girl. This was a once-in-a-lifetime treat for her-all of it, including the mind-blowing lovemaking.

“I don’t mean to rush you,” Cooper said, “but we probably should get a move on. We have a lot of last-minute adjustments to make before the convention center doors open.”

“Oh. Right.” She was the one who’d flown out of bed in a panic about the time, and here she was woolgathering.

THE CONVENTION CENTER was a beehive of frenzied activity as everyone hustled to be ready by ten o’clock. Allie fussed with the satin booth skirt, evening out the pleats, and Cooper set out an antique fisherman’s basket to hold the entries for their drawing, as well as the blank entry forms and pens.

Max showed up at ten minutes to ten with his last contribution-give-away key chains with little dolphins printed with Remington Charters, Port Clara, Texas and a phone number-not hers, she noticed.

“Whose phone number is this?” she asked.

“My cell phone,” Cooper answered. At her frown he added, “Don’t worry. If you end up with the boat, I’ll refer any potential customers straight back to you.”

She eyed the stack of glossy brochures suspiciously. It hadn’t occurred to her to check the phone number. She picked up one off the stack and flipped it over. It listed her number, not his.

Cooper smirked at her.

“Very fair-minded of you,” she said. “I’ll extend the same courtesy.”

“I’ll leave you guys to it,” Max announced. “I’m supposed to meet with some artists.” He took off.

“Yeah,” Cooper grumbled, “and if he doesn’t hire them, he’ll take them to bed.”

“He’s a real Romeo, huh?”

“It’s not his fault. The women offer.”

“Jane didn’t offer, I’m pretty sure of that.”

Cooper grinned. “Okay, so it’s partly Max’s fault. He can’t help himself.”

“And what about you?”

“I couldn’t help myself last night, that was for sure.” The look he gave her was so hot she was ready to forget the trade show and go back to bed. But then the convention center doors opened and potential customers streamed in. Allie put on her professional face and prepared to sell the heck out of herself and her business.

Traffic was thin the first couple of hours. Allie struck up a conversation with the woman in the exhibit next door, which was promoting a fancy day spa in the Hill Country. The woman was bored and offered to paint Allie’s nails for free.

“Your nails are a really nice shape,” the woman commented as she applied red polish. Her name was Candy, which seemed appropriate given that she looked like a pop star. “You should grow them out a little.”

“I wouldn’t be able to work with long nails.” Allie could just imagine trying to repair the boat’s engine or bait a fishhook with long claws.

“So is the man working with you your husband?”

Allie laughed. “Oh, Lord, no! He’s someone I’ve been forced to work with for a short while, but very soon he’ll be out of my life.” That thought didn’t bring her as much satisfaction as it should have. Though she was terrified of losing the Dragonfly, Cooper’s abrupt entry into her life had given it a certain sense of excitement, like she’d awakened from a long sleep.

Maybe she’d been depressed. She had been doing the bare minimum to get by and no more, taking no real pleasure in her work. She probably would have come out of it eventually as the sting of losing Johnny lessened, but Cooper Remington had jolted her out of it sooner rather than later.

“So he’s unattached?” Candy asked, studying Cooper so intently she blobbed red polish across Allie’s knuckle. “Oops, sorry.” She quickly wiped up the mishap.

“Trust me, you don’t want to mess with him. He’s trouble.”

“I like trouble.”

Allie didn’t doubt it. “He’s a lawyer.”

Rather than dampening Candy’s interest, that tidbit made her nose twitch like that of a bird dog on the scent of quail. “No kidding. Okay, we’re done here. Put your hands under this drying lamp for a few minutes so you don’t smudge. I’ve just got to go check out this troublesome lawyer.”

“Your funeral.” But as Candy sashayed out of the spa’s booth, Allie felt distinctly uneasy. Obviously two hours of mindless passion didn’t qualify her to make claims on Cooper. But that didn’t mean she wanted to watch as he made another conquest.

She wasn’t sure who she felt sorrier for-Candy, falling victim to Cooper’s irresistible nature, or Cooper, becoming the target of an obvious man-hunter. Maybe they deserved each other.

Another woman from the spa booth sat down beside Allie. Two other spa employees-all of them dressed in white lab coats open to reveal tight, low-cut shirts and miniskirts-were working on potential customers, giving a chair massage to one and putting makeup on another.

“Hey, thanks for coming over,” the woman said. “Seems to have broken the ice. We have a line forming.”

“No charge. My nails have never looked this pretty.”

“Candy’s good. She’s also good with men, so if you have any claim on that delicious guy in your booth-”

“No, no claim.” She knew her voice was brittle. She couldn’t resist peeking over her shoulder at Cooper and Candy. The two of them were talking and smiling. Cooper was apparently getting Candy signed up for a chance to win a free cruise.

Candy would win over Allie’s dead body.

The ferocity of her thoughts frightened her a bit. Maybe she better remove herself before she said or did something fatally stupid.

“My nails are dry. I think I’ll go walk around a bit.” Maybe if she drew a few customers into the booth, they would get a line, too. She walked up to her own booth, grabbed a stack of brochures without even looking at Cooper and Candy, and set off down the aisle to “work the crowd.” She had no idea how that was really done, since she’d never done it and she wasn’t the world’s most social animal, but she gave it a shot.