Cooper's Fall (14 page)

Ethan watched, crossed his arms over his chest, and glared at Gio. It was the look of a man determined, imposing his own will. If Sarah’s father ever hurt her again, if she was ever harmed again because of him, then Gio the Giant would be dead in fact as well as in fiction. It was a look the other man well understood, and over his daughter’s head, he nodded.

“I give to you my daughter,” Gio said huskily as Sarah finally moved from his arms. Taking her hand, he laid it in Ethan’s. “She is the light to my soul,” Gio continued. “My treasure.”

Ethan smiled and pulled his woman close again.

“She was mine the minute she moved here and I set eyes on her, Mr. Caspari. I tripped over my own two feet and lost my heart.”

“You didn’t?” Sarah stared at him, shocked. “You didn’t. I would have seen it.”

“I covered it damned well.” He grinned. “But have no doubt, sweetheart, you were the first girl to make me fall. Head over heels.”

Gio Federico stared at the couple. Beau, he wouldn’t be pleased, but ah, his son, he was often too arrogant, too certain of life. He had wanted to protect Sarita between them. Having this man, so rough, so obviously a real man, hold his precious sister would grate on his pride.

But, his Sarita was safe. She was loved. And Gio had a feeling any man who attempted to take what Cooper deemed his, would find
himself perhaps knocking on the gates of hell. No, Ethan Cooper wasn’t a man to cross. But he was definitely the man for Sarita.

She was his child. But she was Cooper’s woman. And she was safe.

And, he brightened. Perhaps soon, there would be babies. Ah yes, Gio thought. Grandbabies. Life was perhaps about to get very, very good.

Loud voices, laughter, and childish shrieks filled her parents’ large backyard as just about every member of Claire’s and Linc’s families gathered for a late afternoon Fourth of July picnic. A few friends and neighbors were thrown into the mix, too. And later, after the sun went down and the fireworks came out, things would get
really
noisy.

Sara ran past, two young male cousins hot on her heels, while she squealed at the top of her lungs. Claire watched her race away with a smile.

Sara had always been a happy child, but since they’d moved back to Pennsylvania, she’d begun to grow and thrive and learn what it meant to be part of a happy, close-knit family. Once in a while, she would beg for the latest toy or throw a temper tantrum because she didn’t have the newest gadget, but otherwise her transition
from the lap of luxury to middle-class nonluxury had gone fairly smoothly.

The transition Claire was most pleased with, though, was Sara’s quick acceptance of Linc as her real father. After leaving Jonathan’s cabin, Linc had driven them back to San Francisco, where he’d checked them into a higher-price hotel than the place the two of them had stayed in the night before—although she had some rather fond memories of that ratty old motel room—until they could get a flight back to Pittsburgh.

Linc had told her she didn’t need to rush anything, that he was willing to wait for the official introductions to be made. But she’d seen the longing in his eyes and etched into his face, and hadn’t wanted to add any more time to the decade he’d already lost with his daughter.

So, with Linc right there to hear every word, she’d sat on the hotel bed with Sara and explained everything over again, making sure Sara knew who Linc was and that he was going to be in her life from now on.

At the time, even Claire hadn’t known just
how much
a part of Sara’s life—or her own—Linc would become.

But, as precocious a child as Sara was, she’d taken the news in stride, climbed onto Linc’s knee—which Claire thought had probably left the big, bad U.S. marshal speechless for the first time ever—and proceeded to play Twenty-Thousand Questions until she knew everything from how Linc and Claire had met to what his favorite color was.

At first, Sara had called Linc “Daddy Linc” or “Daddy Number Two,” with Jonathan being “Daddy Number One.” While Claire knew Linc liked having Sara call him Daddy, he hadn’t been fond of the “Number Two” moniker. But lately, Jonathan’s name had come up less and less, and Sara had taken to calling Linc simply “Dad.”

“Wanna sneak off and neck until the fireworks start?”

The question, whispered in a low hush just above her ear, brought back warm memories of all the times as a teenager he’d lured her away to neck or pet or make out. And the same as it had back then, the suggestive invitation sent shivers skating down her spine.

Despite the hot summer sun blazing overhead and raising the afternoon temperature into the high nineties, goose bumps broke out along her arms and legs. The wide palms slipping seductively into the pockets of her shorts to cup her bottom didn’t help matters, either.

Tipping her head back, she met Linc’s warm, laughing eyes. “Would those be the actual fireworks or the ones you hope to get started after we sneak off?” she asked quietly enough that no one else would hear.

“Both,” he responded, the corners of his mouth turning up in a lascivious grin.

The prim and proper woman she’d been while married to Jonathan Scarborough never would have agreed, but she’d changed a lot since the divorce had been finalized. She was feeling more like her old self every day.

Pushing up from the picnic-table bench, she climbed out, took the hand he offered, and followed him away from the festivities. He led her off to the side of the yard, where a small wooded area separated her parents’ property from the neighbors’.

As soon as they were out of sight, he yanked her behind a tall, wide-trunked tree, pinned her against the rough bark with his equally imposing body, and took her mouth in a hot, searing kiss that rocked her all the way to her toes.

When they came up for air—which wasn’t for several long, very enjoyable minutes—they were both sagging and gasping for breath.

“Mmmm. You taste like grape Kool-Aid,” he murmured, sliding his hands over her hips and pressing the proof of his desire into her belly.

“It’s your daughter’s favorite,” she replied.

His eyes lit up, as they always did at the mention of Sara, and Claire’s heart swelled. He’d taken to fatherhood like a bird to flight. He doted on Sara, and though there had been a few heated arguments over the past and the secrets Claire had kept from him, for the most part he’d come to terms with that, too. They’d worked things out and gotten to know each other again over family dinners and trips to the park or the movies or the mall.

In the beginning, Claire and Sara had stayed at her parents’ house in Butler, and had either driven in to Pittsburgh to visit Linc, or he’d driven out to see them. The closer they got as a family, the more time they spent together, and now that Sara was out of school for the summer, they’d all but moved in with him.

She liked it, and at times it felt as though they’d never been apart, as though she’d made the right decision all those years ago instead of the wrong one—staying in Butler, marrying Linc, and starting a family the old-fashioned way.

“We should get back,” she nearly panted, feeling her nipples pucker inside the cups of her bra as his hands wiggled beneath the hem of her sunflower yellow top to graze her stomach and inch ever higher. “People will get suspicious if we disappear for too long.”

He toyed with her mouth before trailing his lips along her cheek to nibble at her ear. “They won’t be suspicious,” he said. “They’ll know exactly what we’re up to.”

Too true, considering anyone with the gift of sight would find it hard to ignore the almost spontaneous combustion that occurred whenever she and Linc were within shouting distance of each other. His gaze smoldered, and he rarely bothered to keep his
hands off of her, while her entire body went hot and damp and needy whenever they were in the same room together.

“If you promise to be good until after the picnic, when our families are no longer watching our every move,” she murmured, running her hands up and down his firm, muscled back, “I promise to be
very good
when we get back to your place.”

He let out a low growl, gently biting the pulse point at the side of her throat.

“I’ve been thinking about that,” he said, mumbling the words against her skin as he continued to nuzzle her neck and shoulder.

The more he touched her, the fuzzier her thoughts became, but she managed to follow along enough to ask, “About what?”

“My place.” He kissed her collarbone, then started back up toward her mouth. “I’ve been thinking it should be
our
place. Or that we should look around for a bigger apartment or maybe a house that we could make a real home, for ourselves and for Sara.”

He pressed his mouth to hers, then pulled back, meeting her gaze. She blinked at the sudden lack of his sensual attentions and noticed the serious expression on his face.

Gathering her wits, she said, “You want us to move in together? Officially?”

“Yeah.” His lips quirked up in a grin at her choice of words. “It’s not only the living arrangements I want to make official, though.”

Reaching into the front pocket of his jeans, he pulled out a small, square box. A jeweler’s box just the right size for a ring.

Claire’s chest tightened as her breathing sped up and tears prickled behind her eyes.

He opened the box and a beautiful, princess-cut diamond sparkled in the dappled sunlight.

“Will you marry me, Claire?”

Lifting her gaze from the ring to his handsome, precious face, she saw the sincerity in the question, his trepidation that she might say no.

“I love you, baby,” he went on in a rush, his voice thick with emotion. “Have since we were kids. Even when I hated you, I still loved you so much, it ate me up inside. It’s time to put things right and do what we should have done ten years ago. I want you to be my wife, to help me make us a real family for Sara. Maybe even give her a little brother or sister one of these days,” he added with a sexy waggle of his dark brows.

Swallowing hard, she tried to slow the desperate pounding of her heart beneath her rib cage, but couldn’t stop a wide smile from breaking out across her face.

“I love you, too,” she told him in a watery voice. Taking his hand, she kissed the knuckles, then placed his palm over her heart and covered it with her own. “I wish so much that I’d never gone away and we’d married straight out of high school the way I know you wanted to. Our lives would have been so much different if we had, and I know we both would have been happier.”

“Probably,” he agreed, “but that’s water under the bridge. I’m talking about now, about our future. So are you going to finally let me make an honest woman of you, or what?”

“Yes.” She laughed and threw her arms around his neck, hugging him tight. “Oh, yes. Just try to get rid of me.”

“Not a chance.” He pulled away only long enough to remove the engagement ring from the case and slip it on her finger, then yanked her back into his arms. “Now that I’ve got you, I’m never letting go of you again.”

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

“C
OOPER’S
F
ALL
.” Copyright © 2009 by Lora Leigh. This story was originally published in the anthology R
EAL
M
EN
A
LL
N
IGHT
. All rights reserved. For information address St. Martin’s Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, N.Y.10010.