Deadly Affair: SCVC Taskforce World Novella (SCVC Taskforce Romantic Suspense Series Book 5) (2 page)

Covertly, she stole a peek at Cooper from the corner of her eye. He had such a handsome face that sometimes it stole her breath. Rugged and tanned, with a dangerous glint in his eye that spoke of many years spent treading in dangerous waters, he gave others pause. But not her. He was a bad boy through and through—her bad boy.

His arm flexed, revealing a glimpse of muscle under the edge of his t-shirt. Celina knew every inch of his delectable body by heart, from every hardened plane to every muscle ridge. Yet her heart still raced every time he was near.

She hadn’t told him about the baby yet. She’d had every intention of telling him a few nights ago, but he’d been called in to work, as so often happened. When he’d surprised her with the trip the next day, she’d decided to wait and break the news once they arrived. Surely, there would be a perfect moment at such a romantic place, right?

He seemed so happy, so content with how things were. This was going to change everything between them.

Cooper was already a father. Granted, he was a damned good father, and Owen worshipped the ground his father walked on, but Cooper always worried that Owen might be put in danger because of Cooper’s job. Celina knew how heavily that weighed on the man sitting beside her. She couldn’t even imagine how he was going to take the news of introducing another child into their unstable lives.

Pensively Celina stared in wonder at her flat stomach, trying to imagine a baby curled up there. Would she be a good mom? She’d excelled at the academy, landed a huge case for her first undercover assignment and came out mostly unscathed. She’d passed her forensic photography certification without batting an eye. But did she have what it took to take care of another life?

Sure, she helped take care of Owen when it was Cooper’s visitation weekend and by all appearances, they made the perfect, albeit slightly skewed, family. To carry and give birth to a child was something completely different, and Celina had to admit, it scared the beejesus out of her.

“You alright?”

Startled, Celina smoothed her hand over her t-shirt to clutch the brochure, forcing a smile. “Fine, just excited about this trip. We haven’t been anywhere this fun in, well, forever. I’m also hungry. I’m surprised you didn’t hear my stomach growl.”

Regardless of her noisy intestines, the thought of ingesting food actually made her stomach turn over. Pregnancy was not for the faint of heart. One minute she was nauseated, the next starving.

Celina swallowed against the sudden moisture collecting in the back of her mouth. She’d been doing really well with the morning sickness, a symptom that had sent her to the doctor for a check-up to begin with. The doctor and his nurse had been pleased to be the ones to share the happy news with her. Celina had been too shocked to form a single sentence.

Cooper peered at her carefully. “Are you sure? You don’t look like you’re okay. Don’t take this the wrong way, but you look a little green.”

“I’m fine, nothing to worry about. I just didn’t have much to eat for lunch.” As in only saltine crackers. “We can grab a bite when we get there. Then we can visit the Koi.”

He rubbed his jaw, not looking convinced. “If you say so.”

The wave of nausea subsiding, Celina breathed a small sigh of relief. Good, disaster averted.

For now.

Chapter Two

The bed and breakfast had been built into the limestone monastery, making it easier for the guests to join the monks in their daily worship. Celina stepped from the Durango, staring in awe at their surroundings. The gravel drive crunched beneath their feet as they made their way inside, Cooper dragging their suitcases behind him.

Stepping inside the foyer was like stepping into another time, Celina decided, her eyes drinking in the tapestries, stone floors and walls, and the artistry decorating the walls of the main hall. “Gorgeous.”

“Yes, you are.”

She caught Cooper’s heated stare and her toes curled inside her tennis shoes. Feeling naughty, she slid a step closer, gliding a hand up his chest. “Keep talking. Compliments will get you everything.”

A throat cleared and Celina jerked back like a kid caught stealing from the cookie jar. Cooper merely grinned.

“May I help you?”

Long, brown robes framed the man’s body, his head bald save for a length of graying hair that wrapped around the lower portion of his head. He had a kind smile and wizened blue eyes that spoke of years of wisdom. Celina liked him immediately.

Cooper’s voice was strong and firm, echoing off the stone walls. “Yes, we’d like to check in for the weekend. Reservations are under Harris.”

The monk nodded, making a note in the leather-bound registry lying on the counter before gesturing towards an arched doorway leading into another room. “Yes, here we are. Cooper Harris and Celina Davenport. Nice to meet you. Please, follow me. I’m Father Bailey. None has already begun, so we must go quietly.”

Celina tucked the name into her memory. “Excuse me for asking, but what is None?”

“None is the ninth hour of worship. It is the time of day for us to reflect on all things as they pass, particularly those of passing from life into death. As we reflect upon our own deaths, we also reflect on the death of Jesus, for the ninth hour was his hour of death.”

Cooper rubbed the back of his neck, looking uneasy. Celina bit back a smile. Seeing the Beast uneasy was a rarity. He wasn’t a religious kind of guy, so it was interesting that he would choose a monastery for their weekend getaway.

Then again, Cooper was always full of surprises.

“During your stay, you will notice bells ringing on designated hours of the day,” Father Bailey continued quietly. “These tolls tell us the hour of prayer, at which you are welcome to join us for the early morning vigil. The rest of our prayer time is done privately in our meditation room.”

As Father Bailey went on to describe the liturgy of the hours of prayer, Celina studied the paintings on the walls of the rooms they were passing, each more impressive than the last. The stunning depths and colors of the pieces were amazing, and she peered closely at one to see who the artist was.

“Father Bailey?” The words slipped out in surprise, and she cringed, hoping she hadn’t said it too loudly.

The monk paused beside her. “I’m afraid you have found my one guilty pleasure, Miss Davenport. I used to paint, using various grapes from our very own vineyard to color my paints.”

Gesturing towards the painting before them, Father Bailey’s face flushed with excitement. It was a vivid painting of what Celina could only assume was the vineyard, rows of winding deep green vines plump with grapes just ready for the picking. The colors were amazing, swirls of green, purple, and blues threading seamlessly together. Celina wasn’t an art expert by any means, but she knew high quality work when she saw it. Father Bailey’s work was amazing.

Cooper studied the painting, equally impressed. “You’ve quite a craftsmanship there, Father. These look like they should be on the wall of an art studio.”

The light in the man’s eyes dimmed, and he cleared his throat, stepping away from the painting. “Ah, yes, well, thank you, but you are much too kind. You’ll find my paintings throughout the bed and breakfast, though I no longer apply myself to the craft. With the winery and the bed and breakfast being so successful, I’ve found myself far too busy to take up a brush in the past twenty years.”

Celina frowned. The way Father Bailey spoke of painting with such enthusiasm told her it was a pastime he greatly missed, but the pride in his voice was gone now, replaced with a wary edge. Celina couldn’t help but wonder, was it really his choice to stop painting, or was it someone else’s?

“Father Bailey, I’ve been looking all over for you.”

A fellow monk approached, his dress an exact replica of Father Bailey’s save for the darker color of his hair. Celina guessed him to be in his late thirties with his welcoming smile and sparkling green eyes. She detected a slight Spanish accent, though his lighter coloring spoke of a mixed heritage.

“Ah, Father Lopez, how good of you to arrive. I was about to show Miss Davenport and Mr. Harris to their room.”

Father Lopez withdrew his hands from the insides of his robe to shake their hands. “Welcome to the Abbey of Our Lady of Benedictines. Or, if you would rather, just the Abbey is fine. Some guests find saying the entire title is a bit of a mouthful.”

Cooper chuckled. “I can see where that would be a problem.”

“Yes, especially after they’ve been out visiting the vineyard.” Father Lopez’s eyes sparkled with laughter. “Father Bailey, I can take care of our guests if you would like to attend None.”

Father Bailey withdrew a handkerchief from the folds of his robe, using it to mop his forehead before slipping it back. “Of course, thank you, Father. It was a pleasure meeting you both. If I don’t see you again, I do hope you enjoy your stay.”

Both of his hands enveloped Celina’s warmly and she gave him a smile. “It was a pleasure meeting you as well, Father. I do hope we see you again before we go. I’m a photographer and I’d love to talk to you about your painting. Your use of light and texture are mesmerizing.”

Peering into his gaze, Celina was startled at the deep sorrow reflected there. “I’m sorry, Miss Davenport. These days, I know far more about grapes than art.”

It was the deep sorrow that gave her pause, for it was one she was all too familiar with. The sorrow that came from a painful past.

Even though they’d just met, her heart pinched at the thought of this nice man having suffered anything. Who could have hurt him so badly to leave that kind of scar?

From the corner of her eye she saw Cooper watching the monk walk away, a speculative look in his eye. She knew that look; the wheels in Cooper’s head were turning. Something was off about the kindly monk they had just met, and she wasn’t the only one thinking it.

Father Lopez’s soft voice broke into her thoughts. “If you would follow me I’ll take you to your room.”

Celina forced a smile, giving him her attention. She could talk to Cooper later, preferably without an audience.

“That’d be great.” Gathering the suitcases in one hand, Cooper slid a hand to the small of her back, guiding her down the stone hallway. Celina’s skin prickled with awareness as the heat of his hand seeped through her t-shirt, and she inched closer to him. Everything about Cooper was comforting, from the way he spoke with such authority, to the way he held her in his arms. She couldn’t imagine loving him any more fiercely than she did.

And yet, worry over the baby crowded the back of her mind.

“Father Bailey’s painting of the vineyard is one of my favorites,” Father Lopez said. “When I first arrived, I took painting lessons from him. He was quite the master and I desperately tried to copy his work. A losing battle, I’m afraid. Some artists are divinely inspired, and he was certainly that.”

The pride in Father Lopez’s voice was unmistakable, prodding questions in Celina’s mind. “He told us how he’s too busy to paint these days. I find that incredibly sad, a man as talented as he is not putting it to use.”

Down and around a corner, Father Lopez led them, their shoes squeaking on tiled floors.

“I completely agree, but alas, I’ve not been able to change his mind in all the years I’ve been here. Many people used to come from far and wide to purchase his paintings. What you see on the walls is all that is left of those days, I’m afraid.”

“How long have you been here, Father?” Cooper had to move over when a family of four came out from one of the rooms. Two kids, a boy and a girl, sprinted by them, ear-to-ear grins and talking about what they were going to order for dinner.

Father Lopez paused, appearing to calculate the years in his head. “Twenty-one years since I said my vows and joined the brotherhood.”

Celina startled at the number. “Twenty-one years? Can I ask how old you are?”

The monk chuckled, obviously amused. “Of course. I recently turned thirty-eight.”

Celina somehow managed to keep her jaw from dropping. Thirty-eight? The same age as Cooper. Judging by his baby smooth skin, she had him pegged for much younger.

Cooper, however, was less conservative than she was, letting out a low whistle. “Impressive, I never would have guessed that.”

“I get that a lot,” he agreed, as they climbed the stairs to the second floor. “Joining the brotherhood was the only thing I’ve ever wanted to do with my life; it was God’s will. When I came to visit the monastery and met Father Bailey, I knew this was to be my calling, here, with him.”

They came to a large wooden, arched door with a metal lock that looked straight out of the eighteenth century. Celina leaned against the wall outside the door. “What is it that you do here?”

“I aid Father Bailey by overseeing the grape crops. There are only eleven monks residing in this monastery, and we all work in the vineyard between hours of prayer. Father Bailey is the senior monk here at the Abbey.”

“And how long has Father Bailey been here?”

“Father Bailey has been here for over thirty years. His love of this monastery, the vineyard and all who visit, is what drew me here. It truly is a peaceful house to do God’s work in.”

He motioned at the door. “This is the Harvest Room. I apologize that we do not have an elevator, but you will find two staircases. The one we used takes you to the front desk, the other down the hall and around to the right, leads to the rear of the building and out to the grounds.”