Married by June (11 page)

S
HE DIDN’T NOTICE THE MAN,
but he must have seen her when she was in the corner market a few blocks
from her house. She had her small string bag loaded and was on her way back to her apartment when she registered the sound of footsteps behind her. At first she didn’t care because it wasn’t that late and a lot of folks were usually out in her neighborhood. But then a man’s voice called to her, “Aren’t you Jorie Burke?”

At first she thought it might be a reporter and she kept walking, remembering Nolan’s bullet points. No Comment was her only reply.

“Hey, I’m talking to you. I saw you on TV. You’re that prick Murphy’s girlfriend, right?” He sounded drunk and angry.

Oh, God, she thought. That’s not a reporter. She instantly picked up her pace and assessed her surroundings, hoping to see someone else walking nearby. But she was still two blocks from her house and there wasn’t a single soul in sight. Except the one behind her.

“Stupid damn government’s running this country into the ground. Entitled pricks like Murphy sitting up there like fat cats, licking the cream.” He was starting to shout now and there was no doubt in her mind he was drunk. If she made it one more block, she could sprint to her house. “You got any cream for me, Jorie Burke? Or you saving it all for Murphy?”

She fumbled in her pocket for her phone and
pressed the panic button that was programmed to connect to the 911 system. “I’m calling the police,” she said in a clear voice, even as she kept walking. “They’ll be here any second.”

“You don’t need the police. We’re just talking here.”

She was less than a block from home now. The operator answered and Jorie started to give her information, but the man suddenly raced up and knocked the phone out of her hand. He lunged toward her again and she got her foot between his legs and kicked up as hard as she could. She connected and he crumpled to the ground.

Jorie started to scream. She darted around the parked car next to her and ran as fast as she could down the middle of the street. The guy was behind her, shouting again, but he wasn’t keeping pace. She got to her place and was up the stairs before he reached her. She had her key out but then the door opened and Cooper was framed in the entry. She’d never seen anything so welcome in her life.

“What the hell?” he said.

She scrambled past him and tried to tug his arm to make him come inside.

“Cooper, he’s nuts,” she said. The guy yelled again. He was standing at the bottom of the steps for now, but she didn’t trust he’d stay there. “He’s crazy. Shut the door and let the cops handle it.”

“Stay inside,” Cooper said as he stepped outside and pulled the door closed. His voice was muffled by the wood when he said, “Lock the door, Jorie.”

She stood frozen in place. She expected to hear shouting, but Cooper surprised her. He must have been on the top step, right outside the door, because she could hear him. His voice was controlled but commanding.

“Turn around and get off my property immediately.” He wasn’t negotiating, but she admired him so much at that moment because he tried to talk first. He believed in words and would always start there.

“Well, if it isn’t the prick himself,” the man said. “I want your girlfriend to come back out here. She freaking kicked me.”

“You say one more word about her and I’m coming down there.” A pause. “I’m not telling you again to get off my property.”

She heard sirens, faint, but growing louder.
Please hurry, please hurry,
she thought.

“She needs to learn some manners,” the guy said. “Slut.”

There was a scrambling sound, a crash, and then some heavy thumps. She wrenched the door open and saw the man on the ground, Cooper was on top of him, one knee in the small of his back, his forearm braced across his neck.

The police pulled up and two officers slammed out of the first car, yelling at Cooper to back up.

He did, raising his hands and straightening in one smooth motion. His hair was disheveled and the sleeve of his dress shirt was torn half off. The man on the ground spat and started to struggle to his feet.

One of the cops moved in and tried to handcuff the guy, but he bucked up, cracking the officer’s forehead with a sickening noise. Before he could get away, the other officer had taken him down from behind and wrestled him into the handcuffs.

Cooper had backed all the way to the side of her building. He kept his hands in front of him while he tried to explain, but the cop turned him around and cuffed him too.

“Cooper,” Jorie said, his name slipping out. He looked up at her. Jorie felt cold. She didn’t cry, but her eyes felt hot and her mouth was dry as she thought about being alone on the street with that horrible man, and then Cooper confronting him with nothing but his bare hands.

“You the one who called us?” the officer who’d stayed near the car asked her. “Can you tell us what happened?”

She came down the steps and stopped beside Cooper. He had a cut high on one cheekbone and the skin underneath was puffy. What if the guy had
had a gun, she thought. He could have been killed. “What the hell were you thinking going outside like that? You’re a speechwriter, Cooper, not a freaking Navy SEAL.”

He shook his head. “Someone had to shut him up,” he said.

The cop cleared his throat. “I’m going to need to get statements from all of you.”

The first press van pulled up before they took the handcuffs off Cooper. A bored-looking reporter climbed out and walked toward the first police officer, who was watching their attacker as he sat on the curb.

“Jorie,” Cooper said in a loud whisper. “Call my dad. Right now. Go in the house and don’t come out.”

“I need her statement,” the police officer said.

“Get it inside, or keep that reporter away from here. Quick, buddy.”

But it was too late. The camera operator had filmed the whole scene while the reporter was still standing at the curb. When she panned over Cooper’s face, he turned away, but not fast enough. She yelled for the reporter. “John. The guy over here in cuffs is Cooper Murphy.”

“Who?”

“Bailey Murphy’s little brother. The one they’re talking about appointing to the Senate.”

Jorie turned her back and punched Nolan’s number into her phone. He answered on the first ring, and when she whispered the story to him, he started barking orders. She was to speak to no one except the police and then only in private. He would be there immediately and he’d send a lawyer to the station. There were a few other instructions, but then she heard him say, “Rachel, turn that up,” and she guessed the news footage had already made it onto TV. His voice came back on the phone. “Tell them to get the freaking cuffs off him now, Jorie!”

It took a few more minutes for her to convince the police that Cooper had been protecting her and they took the handcuffs off. She managed to dab some of the dirt off his face. He shrugged out of the torn dress shirt to the T-shirt beneath. One of the reporters who’d just arrived said to her camera operator, “Get a close-up of that.”

Jorie tried to block the angle, but she didn’t make much of an obstacle compared to Cooper. He ignored the reporters and gave his statement. Just as he was finishing, Nolan and Rachel pulled up.

I
T TOOK A WHILE,
but finally the police were gone, Nolan and various other members of “the team” had finished their phone calls, and Rachel had assured herself that Cooper was physically unharmed.

Nolan had decided that far from a PR disaster, the incident was going to be gold for their team. He left with his phone glued to his ear, hoping to hear that the governor’s office was ready to offer the seat to a bona fide hero.

At last Jorie and Cooper were alone in her living room. Jorie was wrapped in a blanket, curled up on one end of the couch. Cooper had paced around, but now stood leaning against the wall closest to the foyer. Jorie couldn’t help thinking he was still on duty, keeping himself between her and any threats from outside.

“I’m sorry,” she said quietly. “I don’t have any idea what happened.”

“Stop it,” Cooper said. “There’s nothing to be sorry about. He was drunk. End of story.”

She pulled the blanket closer. “I can’t believe I
didn’t notice him when I was leaving the store. If I’d seen him and gone back inside where there were people around, this wouldn’t have happened.” She glanced at him and then quickly away. “I’m sorry I put you in that position. You didn’t have to go out.”

“Yeah, I did,” Cooper said. He crossed the room in two quick strides, crouching on his heels in front of her. The bruise was coming up on his cheek and his hair was out of control, but all Jorie could think was how perfect he looked. “You’re important to me. Nobody gets to treat you like that, especially not some scumbag who can’t keep himself sober. Screw him, Jorie.”

“I can’t believe you were here. Thank goodness you kept your key to the place.” She paused. “Why were you here?”

“I missed you. I spent the whole day on Bailey’s stuff and I couldn’t stop thinking that I wanted you there. When it was time to go home, I came here.”

Jorie wanted that to be true. She would like to be the one he counted on the same way he was starting to be the one she counted on. Maybe she could do this. Cooper hadn’t even been appointed yet and she was already anticipating what would happen once Theo won his election. That was when the charade would be over and she and Cooper would have to decide where to go from there.

H
E FELT SICK TO
his stomach for a long time after the cops put that guy down. Adrenaline hit him that way sometimes, but this was different. The man who had followed Jorie home was big. A tall, hefty-looking guy with muscles. Cooper couldn’t stop picturing how easily he could have hurt her. He’d seen her face, the terror she felt. Somehow, seeing how vulnerable Jorie was, he finally understood a little of what she had witnessed in her mom’s relationships. Not that Chelsea had been the victim of physical abuse, but she’d put herself and her daughter into the hands of one powerful man after another and they’d been let down time and again.

He got himself a Scotch, and when she asked, he poured a second one for her then sat on the couch. She scooted closer to him and he draped his arm around her shoulders.

They sat for a few minutes, not speaking, and then she looked up at him. “You want to come to bed?”

“Yes, I do,” he said.

W
HEN THEY GOT TO
her bedroom, Jorie told him she was going to change, and slipped into the ad joining bathroom. The new nightgown she’d bought that afternoon was hanging on the back of the door. Looking at it made her tremble.

She hadn’t actually bought the nightgown so much as she’d been seduced by it. She usually slept in a T-shirt and shorts and Cooper had never complained. He’d certainly never asked her to wear a negligee. The nightgown, short, sleek and silvery-blue, had been on a mannequin in the lingerie department at Nordstrom, and she’d been captivated by it. She’d immediately wondered what Cooper would think if he saw her in it. She’d promised she’d make an effort to connect with him—was this the right kind of step? If she stepped outside her comfort zone, would it bring them closer together? She’d bought it but hadn’t taken the tags off yet. She hadn’t expected to see him tonight, and while she was glad he was staying, she wasn’t sure if she was ready to change.

She took off her clothes and then pulled the night gown on, shivering when the fabric slid over her breasts and stomach. The tag tickled the back of her arm.

She smoothed her hands under the curve of her breasts, then down over her waist, past the hem of the nightgown to skim her thighs. Would Cooper touch her like that? Would he like this nightgown? If her usual sleeping outfit was about comfort and peaceful dreams, what was this one about? Seduction? Being a different person at night in the bed
room than she was in the light of day? Following her mother’s rules for keeping a man?

Which was the cause of her confusion.

Bed was usually the place she and Cooper were most successful as a couple, but every since they’d gotten reengaged, she’d been almost dreading sleeping with him again.

Almost every single thing her mother had taught her about sex and its place in a relationship was wrong. It had taken her a long time to learn that she deserved to have as much fun as the guy she was sleeping with. That she was in charge of her contraception and health, but the guy should be just as careful about his own safety. That she didn’t owe anyone anything no matter how good dinner was or how much she might be hoping for another date. That even in bed she was allowed to speak up and ask for more or different or exactly that right there but keep going for a few minutes.

She could write a book about the screwed-up lessons her mom had taught her. She’d gotten past all that eventually, and every time she enjoyed herself in bed with a good-looking guy knowing she was there free and clear with no motive other than a good time reinforced her feelings of control.

Jorie had had a good time with Cooper. But then they’d entered into this business arrangement and all of a sudden she was nervous again. What if Cooper
wasn’t sincere about resuming their relationship? Maybe he’d gone along with her plan just to get her back until he had the nomination sewn up. She’d asked him to be honest with her, but she had no way of knowing if he really was. All she had was trust.

Trust had never, ever been easy for her.

Stop being a chicken,
she told herself.
It’s embarrassing.

But she’d been terrified before. The confrontation with the drunk had shown her in no uncertain terms that she might be strong and she might be smart, but in a physical confrontation with a man the odds of her winning were long. Cooper had taken care of her. He’d taken that guy to the ground and held him. She couldn’t have done that, and she didn’t like being reminded of it. Where was her power? What could she offer him that he couldn’t do for himself?

She used to have answers to those questions, but that was before her business collapsed and she agreed to be an honorary Murphy political asset for the duration of the campaign.

She opened the door a crack.

He was waiting for her. He looked exhausted enough that falling asleep on his feet was a possibility. He leaned against the wall near her dresser, crystal glass dangling from one long hand, his broad
shoulders filling up space in the room and in her mind. He was still wearing just his white T-shirt with his suit pants. His hair was sticking up the way it always did when he was tired. She’d teased him once that his hair had an inverse relationship to the rest of his body. As soon as he started to slump, his hair became more unruly. She loved his hair. She liked to twirl the waves in her fingers, imagining she could find patterns she’d never seen before.

With the bathroom door closed again, she put her hands on her hips, pulling the fabric tight across her waist. Her mom had never allowed herself to be bigger than a size six. Jorie hadn’t been that small since puberty, but recently she’d been creeping out the top end of the tens in her closet and she was pretty sure a twelve would be nice and comfy.

Her mom had always told her that men appreciated a woman who took care of her body. She let the nightgown fall loose again, gliding over her waist and hips. If she took the nightgown off she knew she’d never put it on again. If she couldn’t trust Cooper to love her the way she was, even if she was feeling vulnerable and unsure, she wouldn’t ever be able to trust him.

She had to trust herself first. She wasn’t wearing this nightgown just for him—the way her mom had changed her style to suit different men. Jorie was wearing it for herself—to see if she could let down
her guard and meet him without all her barriers in place. She’d said she would try.

When she opened the door again, she saw that Cooper had undressed, too. He was leaning over, folding the duvet at the bottom of the bed, his black boxer briefs low and snug on his hips. Despite being close to six foot three, he was far from gangly, with lean, strong arms, gorgeous shoulders and a chest that she personally could attest to being quite delightfully firm. She’d dated a couple of athletic guys before, but Cooper was the first one who’d given her the feeling he could handle anything life threw at him. She wondered if he’d ever fought a man the way he had tonight. The muscles in his back moved as he tugged at the duvet and Jorie put her hands behind her back to stop herself from reaching for him. She felt heat in her cheeks and knew she was blushing. There was no reason for blushing—she’d seen Cooper in his boxers dozens of times. Heck, she’d seen him completely naked often enough.

But there was something different about tonight. Something intimate about being in this room with him again.

He turned and saw her and she was sure his eyes widened. Pupil dilation was probably some ancient adaptation that was useful for indicating sexual interest when the only light was coming from the
flames of a fire, or in their case, the muted glow of the bulb in her bedside lamp.

You want him,
she reminded herself. This is part of the plan.

She lost her nerve. She wanted to be in her shorts and T-shirt, going to bed with Cooper as usual. She’d known what she was doing when their relationship was about fun and mutual pleasure. Wearing a seductive nightgown was tantamount to declaring that she wanted him to want her. What if he didn’t?

H
E’D BEEN TIRED
until he saw her come out of the bathroom, but then suddenly he realized what it meant when old guys in movies said, “Va va voom.” She was wearing some kind of silky blue nightgown that did amazing things to her body and his.

“I want to change the sheets first,” she said. She started to lift the covers off the foot of the bed. Watching her bend and stretch, the pale light from the street making enticing shadows on her skin, only made him want her more.

What the hell was going on with her? He wasn’t here on a home inspection tour, he was her fiancée. Her lover. Right?

“Jorie, leave it,” he said as he came around the bed and sat down in front of her.

She tugged at the sheet under him. “You’re in the way.”

“What’s going on?” he asked.

“Nothing. I wasn’t expecting you tonight but you’re here and we’re going to bed together so we should have clean sheets.” As she talked, she continued to look anywhere but at him, shaking pillows out of their cases into a pile on the floor.

He put his hand over hers to make her stop. “I don’t care about the sheets. I mean, what’s going on with you?” She tried to turn away from him, but he caught her wrist. “Why won’t you look at me? Are you still scared? We don’t have to do this if you’re scared.”

She didn’t answer for a second, but then she burst out, “I just feel so uncomfortable, Cooper. Like we’ve staged this. I can’t have sex when I feel like this.” She stopped abruptly.

He didn’t know what she was talking about, but she was in genuine distress. Her hands were clenched so tightly he was surprised she hadn’t cracked a bone, and the cords in her neck were tight as she tried to control her voice.

He leaned out and put his hands around hers. He didn’t say anything, just rubbed the taut skin with his thumbs.

“You’re the one who said yesterday that we should forget about everything that got us here. We’re engaged and we should just enjoy it. Forget about changing the sheets. Just come to bed.”

“Okay.” She moved closer slowly and climbed onto the mattress. When he slid in next to her, he felt her stiffen. She moved her legs, not much, but just enough so they wouldn’t touch his. He folded his arms under his head and watched her, but she didn’t move, didn’t roll over, didn’t speak. He wasn’t going to force himself on her. She’d had a serious scare, being attacked like that. On top of everything else that was going on, maybe she was just freaked out. But why was she wearing that nightgown then? She was always sexy to him, but the way her hips rose full and enticing under the silk was overwhelming. She must have known it would devastate him.

“Are you okay?”

She laughed.

“You want to talk about it?”

“The last thing I want is to talk about it.”

“Okay.”

“But I have to talk about it, because that’s the only way this is going to work.”

He raised his eyebrows. She couldn’t see, but he nodded, impressed with her courage. She flopped over to face him.

He shifted and raised his arm, inviting her to move closer, to use his shoulder as a pillow. She hesitated, but then she was there, her hair silky on his bare skin, her arm across his chest.

Neither of them said anything for a few minutes.
He started to wonder if she’d forgotten that she wanted to talk. But then he felt her fingers tracing a path down his collarbone and across his chest to tease his nipple. He was almost instantly hard. He thought there was a chance she’d changed her mind and was ready to have sex, but then she started talking.

“You know what sucks?”

“No.” He really didn’t. Not with Jorie snuggled up in his arms, her wicked fingers teasing and stroking, and his own desire making it hard for him to think. Not much wrong with his life right at the moment.

He was supposed to be listening to her, not jumping her bones.

He could do this.