Making a Comeback (12 page)

Her throat tightened, thinking how something so simple had changed her life forever. Something she’d done herself on more than one occasion.

“Texting, huh?”

“Yeah.” She couldn’t help herself. She broke down in stupid, pointless tears.

Cooper put his arms around her and just held on while she cried. She cried until she couldn’t cry anymore. Her eyes felt like they were full of sand and her throat was as raw as if she’d swallowed sea water.

“Annabelle.” He spoke her name, so soothing and yet so irritating at the same time.

“I don’t want to need you.” Her words came out in a harsh whisper. “I don’t want to need you, and I sure as hell don’t want to want you.”

She broke away from his embrace just as the school bus pulled up to the corner. Turning away from both Cooper and her daughters, she wiped what was left of her mascara from her cheeks. It wouldn’t do for her girls to see her a mess like this. Once again, she had to stay strong.

“Mommy! Cooper!” Her daughters called out as they bounded off the bus.

“Guess what?” Sophie was bursting with excitement. “It’s almost the hundreft day of school.”

“Yeah, and we have to bring a hundred of something in a bag and then we get to count all the way to one hundred.” Olivia was just as excited.

“Oh really? Like what?”

“Well…” Sophie stood with her hands on her hips and her chin tilted sideways and her lip caught between her teeth.

“Miss Ramirez put a note in our backpacks,” Olivia informed them. “It’s part of our homework and everything.”

“And we get to do a play!” Sophie added.

“Sounds like fun.” Annabelle took comfort in knowing that her daughters were so excited about their new school and their homework assignment. They didn’t care if she was scarred, scared, and sore. She had to maintain a positive attitude.

“Is there anything I can do to help?” Cooper offered.

“We’ll let you know.” Annabelle was torn between being grateful for his assistance and being pissed off that he just wouldn’t back off.

Olivia’s backpack slipped off her shoulder and Cooper stooped to pick it up. He slid one strap over his own shoulder and the sight of a six-foot-three man with a pink princess backpack shouldn’t have made her heart flutter and her insides quiver, but it did. When Olivia slipped her tiny hand in his much larger one, Annabelle knew she was screwed.

Sophie trotted along on his other side, both of them chattering and telling him all about their day. He smiled and nodded in all the right places, as if he was actually listening to them.

When they got to the house, the girls bounded up the steps. Cooper started to follow, but Annabelle stopped him.

“Can I have a word?” she asked.

“Sure.” He stood there, with Olivia’s backpack still strapped to his shoulder.

“Look, I know you promised the girls you’d be at the bus stop today,” She hated having to be the bad guy, but she had to think about what her children needed, not only what they wanted. “But you need to stop just showing up like that.”

He crossed his arms over his chest, pulling the T-shirt tighter over his biceps. The pink strap stood out even more against all that solid muscle.

“They’re getting too attached.” They weren’t the only ones. “And I think it would be best if you kept your distance…”

“Yeah. That’s probably a good idea.” He frowned, clearly annoyed with her request.

“I just don’t want them to get the wrong idea.”

“Right.” Was that hurt she heard in his voice?

“It’s just that they’ve been through a lot these last couple of months.” She wasn’t sure why she felt the need to defend her position. To make him think it wasn’t about him. “Their parents split up, their father moved across the country, they had to make all new friends at a new school…”

“And you don’t want me to be one of their new friends?”

“That’s not…” She could handle his friendship, if she hadn’t wanted something more. “I just don’t want them becoming too dependent on you. You mentioned you might not stick around, and they need stability right now.”

“And what do you need, Annabelle?”

Him. Naked. Attending to her every desire. She felt a little flutter low in her belly—no it was much lower than her belly. She closed her eyes, trying not to picture him hovering over her, stroking her skin, driving deep inside her.

Sex. She needed sex. But he wouldn’t give it to her. And she didn’t want anyone else.

She swallowed. “I need to make sure my daughters don’t get their hopes up only to be disappointed.”

“Your daughters.” He nodded, but they both knew she was hiding behind the girls. She was the one who was afraid of being heartbroken.

She should be used to it by now. Despite her beauty, her wealth, and her brief shot at fame, she knew more about disappointment than most people. She had an advanced degree in disappointment.

Cooper had made it all the way to his bathroom before he realized he still had Olivia’s backpack. It felt too comfortable carrying it for her. Hell, being with Annabelle and her daughters felt too comfortable.

Except for the tension between him and Annabelle. The kind of tension that could easily be relieved if he hadn’t gotten all freaked out about her technically still being married.

But even if she wasn’t, getting involved with her would be a bad idea. For all of them.

He knew he should take the backpack to Olivia, but he, too, needed some space. He needed a shower. He could still smell Annabelle on him from when he held her as she cried.

Damn. What kind of asshole texted while he was driving through an intersection? And how fast must he have been going to do that much damage to Annabelle’s face?

Cooper couldn’t stand the way some people didn’t stop to think about the consequences of their actions. Especially not the guy in the mirror. He stood in his bathroom, the steam fogging up the room and he stared at himself. The guy who thought he could get away with it. There were plenty of guys who’d done it. Gone their whole careers on the juice, with carefully timed injections, or elaborate concoctions of counter-measures. One pill makes you taller and another makes you small. Some such shit.

All he’d wanted was to finish the season. He’d done that. Barely. He’d stayed off the stuff all winter. But he’d been nervous about doing the pitching clinic. He thought if he was going to risk his arm, he wasn’t going to do it for a bunch of kids. He’d do it in spring training, with the team’s doctors nearby. So he’d taken one more dose. Just to be safe.

Boy was he sorry.

Stepping into the shower, he knew he needed to stay away from Annabelle. She didn’t need someone like him. Someone who’d been selfish and thoughtless and just arrogant enough to think he was doing the right thing. Just like he’d thought he was doing the right thing by looking after Annabelle and her daughters.

He should just walk away. But it was damned hard when he lived just next door. And she was so…everything he’d ever wanted.

Maybe it was time to move on. He could head down to Arizona, and try to find a team willing to take a chance on him. Now that he knew he wasn’t going to have a heart attack if he picked up a baseball, he could risk getting on a mound. Even if he sucked, at least he’d know he’d given it his best effort.

Switching off the water, he reached for a towel. He dried off, got dressed, and then went downstairs to return the backpack.

He picked up the pink, princess-covered bag and something inside him twisted in a knot. He didn’t want to stay away from Olivia and Sophie. They both had managed to sneak into his heart. Sophie with her determination and her fearlessness. And Olivia with her cautious, yet trusting nature. They were both so much like Annabelle.

All three of them were sweet, funny, vulnerable, yet strong. He didn’t want to walk away from them. But he knew it would be for the best.

He knocked on the door, waited until he heard footsteps, then dropped the backpack on the porch and headed back to his place. It took all the strength he had not to turn around when he heard the door open.

It took even more when he heard Annabelle whisper, “Thanks.”

* * * *

After dinner, baths, and bedtime, Annabelle tried to watch a little TV. But
American Idol
couldn’t hold her attention. Not when the only voice she longed to hear had been banished from her home. Cooper had returned Olivia’s backpack, but instead of intruding, he’d left it on the porch.

If only she hadn’t been so stubborn. If only she hadn’t been determined to be independent, she could accept his friendship without wanting more. They could have invited him over for dinner. The girls might have eaten their vegetables and they wouldn’t have spent the meal bickering over who was going to bring what for the one hundredth day of school. They’d rejected every one of her ideas and ended up in tears worried they would fail Kindergarten if they didn’t come up with not one, but two super-duper ideas.

After switching off the TV, Annabelle poured herself a glass of Chardonnay. She sat at the kitchen table, but the memory of Cooper in her pink apron just made her more anxious. He was a good man. The kind of man who was willing to stand by his principles even if those principles made her ache.

She grabbed a sweater and threw it on over her nightgown. Taking her barely touched glass of wine, she stepped out on the porch, hoping the night air would clear her head. She needed to take the advice of her daughters’ favorite movie song and “let it go.”

The minute she stepped outside, she realized her mistake.

Cooper was on his porch, strumming his guitar and singing a haunting song. She turned around, to go back inside, but she was mesmerized by the sound of his voice.

So much for getting the man out of her head.

Instead, she sat in the shadows, listening to him sing, and hoping he couldn’t see her watching him.

His voice was deep, rich, and had a certain quality that tugged at something deep inside her. His songs made her feel more than she’d felt in a long time. Longing. Yearning. Wanting a connection that was just out of reach.

And if the passion he brought to his music was even a little bit sincere, he wanted it too.

She closed her eyes and sipped her wine. She finally got why musicians were so appealing—even the ones who might not be all that physically attractive—they drew out emotion. Made you
feel
.

Oh, she was feeling right now. After so many years of merely existing, she was feeling too much. And instead of retreating into her house, she moved closer, still hidden from his view, but she wanted to hear the words to the haunting song he was singing. She wanted to feel a little bit closer to the man who was just out of reach.

“Your name on my lips

Like a song in my heart

Annabelle, sweet Annabelle…”

She froze. He was singing about her. Like he wanted her. Only he didn’t. He’d made that very clear.

Draining her wine, she made the decision to let him know what his song did to her. She set the empty glass on the porch railing and marched next door.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Annabelle demanded.

“Trying to stay out of your way.” Cooper didn’t look up from his guitar.

“By singing about me?”

“It’s how I relieve tension.” He strummed a few chords, his attention on his instrument.

“Really? I thought you did that by lifting weights or running along the beach.”

“Nope.” He glanced up at her now, but his eyes were hidden in the shadows. “That’s how I keep in shape. My music keeps me sane.”

“Yeah? Well, it’s making me crazy.” Her heart was racing. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been this worked up.

“I didn’t mean to disturb you.” He fingered the neck of his guitar, and she couldn’t help but notice his long, strong fingers. Fingers that could no doubt make her body sing. “I’ll take it inside.”

“Not good enough.” She stepped closer. Close enough to smell his soap or shampoo or aftershave. Whatever it was, it drove her almost as wild as his voice. “I’ll know you’re singing. About me.”

“Annabelle.” He held his guitar between them, like a shield.

“Stop. Please.” She inched even closer, placing her finger on his lips. “You’re killing me with your song.”

“Softly?”

“What?”

“Nothing. Just made me think of the Roberta Flack song.” He played a few notes.

“I’m glad you find all this amusing.” Her blood was starting to boil. How dare he make light of this? He was using his music to… Well, he wasn’t using his music to seduce her, so what was he doing?

“Am I too loud? You don’t like my voice? What exactly is the problem, Annabelle?”

“That song. It’s about me.”

“Yes. It is.” He set the guitar down and leaned forward.

“Don’t.” She was shaking, her nerves humming like one of his guitar strings after he’d strummed it.

“Don’t what?”

“Don’t sing about me.” She squeezed her fists, digging her perfectly manicured nails into her palms. “Promise you won’t sing that song about me.”

“I can’t make that promise, Annabelle.” Every time he said her name, it was like a sliver digging ever deeper into her heart. “Every song I sing is about you. Every verse, every note, it’s about you. It’s always been about you.”

“But why?” She didn’t get it. He wanted her, he didn’t want her. He didn’t want to get too close, yet he never strayed too far away. “You sing about me, yet you don’t want me.”

“Oh, but I do. I do want you. More than you’ll ever know.”

Under the glow coming from the streetlight, she could see into his eyes. He meant it. Every word. And he wasn’t any happier about it than she was.

“Annabelle…” He didn’t say anything more, just pulled her toward him and kissed her. Softly killing her with his lips, his tongue, his breath. He threaded his fingers through her hair, pulling her closer, but not close enough.

She wrapped her arms around his neck, pressed her body against his. He was solid. Strong. Hot. She wanted, no
needed
to touch and be touched. She couldn’t feel her bruised ribs, couldn’t feel pain in her shoulder. She could only feel the pleasure of his lips on hers, his hands moving down her back, his erection pressing against her belly.