Danielle Steel - The Cottage

She was also surprised by how many autographs he signed, and how many people stopped him to take his photograph. It seemed like the whole world knew him. But none as well as she did. Or at least that was what it felt like to her. He seemed surprisingly willing to share not only his life and his history, but his innermost secrets with her. And she reciprocated easily. She was entirely open with him.

“What are your parents going to think about us?” Coop asked after they made love for the first time. It had been a memorable experience. And they sat in their private pool afterwards, naked in the moonlight, with music in the distance. It had been the most romantic night of her life.

“God knows,” she said, looking pensive. “My father's never liked anyone in his life, man or woman, including his children and my mother. He's suspicious of everyone. But it's hard to imagine him not liking you, Coop. You're respectable, you're well born, you're polite, intelligent, charming, successful. What's to object to?”

“He may not like the difference in our ages.” For a start.

“That's possible. But some days you look younger than I do.” She smiled at him in the moonlight, and they kissed again. He hadn't told her that there was also a difference in their circumstances, that she was solvent, and he wasn't. It pained him to admit it. It wasn't a reality he faced often. But it was nice knowing she wasn't financially dependent on him. That had always been an issue for him. He had never wanted to take on a wife, when his own circumstances weren't stable, and most of the time, they weren't. Even when he had money, it slipped right through his hands. He didn't need help spending it, and most of the women he had known had been fearfully expensive. Alex wasn't, and she had her own anyway, so it wasn't an issue. For the first time in his life, he was actually thinking about marriage. In a vague, distant way of course, but it no longer terrified him to the same degree. Much to his own amazement, he could actually contemplate settling down with her, without wanting Dr. Kevorkian to officiate at the wedding. He had always thought he would have preferred suicide to marriage. The two had always seemed equally lethal, and synonymous to some degree. But with Alex, everything was different. And he said so, in the magical Mexican night, as he kissed her.

“I'm not there yet, Coop,” she said softly, always honest with him. She loved him, but didn't want to mislead him. She was by no means ready for marriage, both because of her medical career, and her previous brush with disaster as she approached the altar. She didn't want another disappointment, but Coop seemed like the one man who wouldn't do that to her.

“I'm not there yet either,” he whispered. “But at least it doesn't give me shingles when I think about it. For me, that's an improvement.” She liked the fact that they were both cautious about marriage. So much so, that he had never done it before. When she'd asked him about it, he had said that he'd never found the right girl. But now he was beginning to think he finally had. Alex was a woman worth having for a lifetime.

The weekend they shared was magical, and when they flew back to LA, they were both starry-eyed and sorry to leave each other.

“Do you want to stay at the house with me?” he asked as he drove her home from the airport, and she looked pensive as she thought about it.

“Want to, yes. But probably shouldn't.” She still wanted to move slowly. She was afraid to get used to it, and then have something go wrong that would spoil it. “I'm going to miss you tonight though.”

“So will I,” he said, and meant it. He felt like a new man. He insisted on carrying her bag up to her apartment. He had never seen it, and he was shocked when he did. He was stunned by the stacks of discarded hospital scrub suits, lying in piles, the medical books stacked sky high on the floor, the bathroom with no frills and no amenities. All she had was soap, toilet paper, and towels. She hardly had any furniture, no curtains, no rugs, no decor. “For God's sake, Alex, it looks like a barracks.” She had never bothered to decorate it. She didn't have time, and she didn't care. All she did was sleep there. “If anyone sees this, they're going to condemn it.” All he could do was laugh at the way she lived. She was so exquisite and so delicate, but all she had cared about for years was being a doctor. He had seen gas stations that were more inviting. “I think you should throw a match into this place and move in with me immediately.” But he knew she wouldn't. She was far too cautious and independent to do that. Not for a while at least. But in spite of the unmade bed and the grim decor, he spent the night with her, and got up with her when she left for work at six o'clock the next morning. And when he got back to The Cottage, he truly missed her. He had never felt that way before about any woman.

Paloma came in later that morning, and when she saw the look on his face, she was intrigued. She was beginning to think he really was in love with the young doctor. It almost made her like him better. Maybe he had a heart after all.

He was out at a series of appointments all afternoon, and posed for the cover of GQ. It was six o'clock when he got home, and he knew Alex was still working. She was going to be at the hospital until the next morning. She had to pay her dues for the trip to Mexico. She was going to have to work for several days to pay people back for the shifts they had taken for her.

He had just settled down in the library with a glass of champagne, and put some music on, when he heard a terrifying sound at the front door. It sounded like a machine gun, or a series of explosions, as though part of the house were falling down, and he got up to look out the window. At first he didn't see anything, and then he caught a glimpse of a young boy, and Coop's eyes opened wide with amazement. The little hooligan was riding a skateboard down the marble steps, and using it to do exotic jumps, and land on the marble that stretched out around it. He did it again and again, and with a few quick strides, Coop reached the front door and yanked it open with a look of fury. The marble had been there since 1918, unblemished, and the juvenile delinquent skateboarding on it was going to destroy it.

“What the hell do you think you're doing? I'm going to call the police if you don't get out of here in the next three seconds. How did you get on this property?” The alarms should have gone off when he climbed over the gate, and hadn't. Coop couldn't imagine any other way for him to get there. The boy stood staring up at him in terror and amazement.

All he could think of to say was, “My father lives here,” in a strangled voice as he clutched his skateboard to his chest. He had never contemplated for an instant the damage he might do to the marble. It just looked like a good place to practice jumps, and he'd been having a great time doing it, until Coop opened the door and shouted at him, threatening to have him arrested.

“What do you mean your father lives here? I live here, and thank God, I'm not your father!” Coop said, still in a fury. “Who are you?”

“I'm Jason Friedman.” The boy looked like he was shaking, and he dropped the skateboard with a clatter, which made them both jump. “My father lives in the guest wing.” He had arrived the night before from New York, with his sister. And he loved the place. He had spent all afternoon exploring it, after he got back from school. The night before, Mark had introduced him and Jessica to Jimmy, and they'd had dinner with him. Jason had only heard about Coop from his father. And Coop was in Mexico for the weekend when they arrived. And to add insult to injury, Jason looked at him, and added, “And now I live here too, and so does my sister. We got here yesterday, from New York.” All the boy wanted was not to get arrested. He was willing to offer name, rank, and serial number, and any information Coop wanted to prevent that from happening.