Cynthia Eden - The Girl Next Door

Cooper gave a rough bark of laughter. “Rachel isn’t company. She’s—” But then he broke off, frowning. “Wait, who do you think she is?”

That was a weird question, but Gabrielle blurted, “Girlfriend?”

Rachel was the one to laugh then. “He should be so lucky.” She bent and scooped up a designer bag. “We’re just friends. No worries on that score.” She winked at Gabrielle. “Maybe that makes it nicer to meet me?”

It did.

Rachel inclined her head toward Cooper. “And maybe you can meet up with me and Dylan later? I know he’d love to get an update on you.”

Cooper gave a quick nod. “Will do.”

It had to be her imagination, but Gabrielle could have sworn the enthusiasm in his voice was faked.

Rachel slipped away a few moments later, and Cooper locked the door behind her.

Gabrielle’s hands twisted in front of her. It had been almost two days since she’d last seen him. She’d thought about him plenty during that time.

Especially when the flowers arrived at the hospital—lilacs, her favorite. There hadn’t been a card, just the flowers.

“You sure that you’re okay?” He took her elbow and guided her to the couch.

She’d be better—less distracted—if he put on a shirt, but Gabrielle nodded. “I needed to thank you, both for finding me in that alley and for the flowers. I, um, lilacs are my favorite.” She wore a lilac-scented body lotion, because she loved the smell so much.

His blond brows lifted. “How do you know they were from me?”

She blinked. Embarrassment burned through her. Since she wasn’t dating anyone, she’d just assumed they were from him. “I—”

He laughed. “You sure are pretty when you blush. And, yes, they were from me.” His fingers brushed back a lock of her hair. “I’m glad you liked them.”

She had those lilacs upstairs, sitting in a vase on her kitchen table. Every time she looked at them, she smiled.

But you’re here on business. Don’t get distracted. Gabrielle cleared her throat. “I need to ask you a few questions.”

His hand lowered. She was hyperconscious of the strength of his body next to hers. “Sure. Give me just a minute, okay?” He rose and disappeared down the hallway.

She didn’t move. She wanted to move. She wanted to pry and search—

Hold that curiosity back.

She stayed locked to the couch. He returned quickly, pulling a black T-shirt over his head. The man certainly seemed to enjoy wearing black.

“I was about to make some dinner. Want something?”

Gabrielle shook her head.

A half smile lifted his lips. “Come on, I make a mean spaghetti. It’s a recipe I stole from Rachel. Her family’s Italian, and no one does spaghetti better.”

Her stomach growled.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” he murmured.

Then he headed into the kitchen. She heard pots and pans clanking. Gabrielle rose and followed after him. “I didn’t come here so that you would fix me dinner.”

He already had the water set to boil. Tomatoes were spread out on the counter.

“That’s right,” he said easily. “You came here to ask me questions. So ask.”

While he cooked? She’d expected something a little more...businesslike.

“Ask.” He sliced the tomatoes. Fast and with almost fanatical skill. She’d never seen anyone be so good with a knife.

“I...um...” She exhaled slowly. Stop being frazzled with him. “Did you see anyone else in that alley with me?”

He stopped slicing. He glanced at her, held her gaze. “It was dark. I could only see you.”

That didn’t mean that no one else had been there. “Did you hear anything?” Gabrielle asked carefully.

He dropped the pasta then came toward her while the sauce simmered. “No, I didn’t hear anything.” He propped against the counter and studied her. “Why?”

“Because I don’t remember falling.”

“After a head injury like yours, I know it’s common to forget—”

“What I do remember,” she said, speaking quickly and cutting through his words, “is a man’s voice.”

“What?”

“I told Lane—Detective Carmichael, but he said the alley was searched thoroughly, both before and after my ‘accident,’ and there was no sign of anyone else there. Anyone else other than you, anyway.”

Lane wasn’t exactly a fan of Cooper’s. In fact, he seemed pretty suspicious of Cooper. But then, Lane was suspicious of most folks. That was his nature.

“If you’re trying to ask me if I slipped into the alley and slammed your head against a wall...” She saw Cooper’s knuckles whiten as he clenched the edge of the countertop. “The answer is no, I didn’t do that.”

Gabrielle quickly shook her head. “That wasn’t the question I was asking. I know you didn’t do it. You’re the guy who keeps rushing in to save me, not hurt me.”

He blinked. A furrow appeared between his brows. “That’s a whole lot of trust to give someone. You don’t know me that well.”

“I know you well enough to realize you aren’t a killer.”

He gazed steadily back at her. “Do you?”

What kind of response was that? It almost sounded as if he were trying to scare her. “Look, it wasn’t your voice.”

Cooper held up a hand. “You’ve lost me.”

“I remember hearing a man’s voice. It wasn’t your voice.”

Now there was doubt in his blue eyes. Lane had looked at her with the same doubt when she’d tried to explain this situation to him.

His hand fell back to his side. “There was a lot going on that night. It would be easy to get confused. Especially with that bump on your head.”

“A minor concussion.” She waved it away.

He stepped from the counter and caught her hand. “You don’t shrug away an injury like that. Head injuries can be dangerous.”

When he touched her, her heart beat faster. An electric current seemed to run through her body. Just from a touch. “That’s why I stayed in the hospital. To make sure everything was okay.” And because her boss at the paper had insisted on it. Hugh had told her she either stayed or she looked for a new job.

He didn’t take kindly to his reporters being hurt.

She didn’t take kindly to being hurt. “I know what I heard.”

His gaze turned guarded. “Then tell me.”

“A man grabbed me in that alley. He told me that I was in the wrong place.” The memory of that rasping voice rolled through her mind. “And then he said...not yet.”

A muscle flexed in his jaw. “You don’t remember his face?”

“I remember the feel of his hands grabbing me. I remember the rasp of his voice, but his face?” If only. “No, I don’t remember that. I’m not even sure if I saw him. I was hoping that maybe you’d seen something.”

“You were the only thing I saw.”

He turned away from her. Cooper spent a few moments in silence as he finished preparing their meal.

“It could’ve been a mugger,” she said to his back, as he reached for some plates. “I didn’t have a purse with me, so maybe that’s why he ran after I passed out.”

“It could have been.” He shut the cabinets with a rough motion of his hands.

“It could also have been the killer.” That was her fear. Her suspicion. “I think he escaped the apartment by climbing down the fire escape. He fled through that alley. Maybe he dropped something. Maybe he had to go back for it.” She followed him to the table. “Or maybe he was just one of those guys who enjoys going back to the scene of the crime. Someone who likes to watch the cops spin their wheels and come up with nothing.”

He pulled out a chair for her. “Is that what the cops have?”

She eased into the seat. “Lane says there aren’t any suspects. No prints, DNA or any other evidence was left at the scenes.”