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He gestured toward the small table to his left, the one that had held the ledger, and she scrambled to her feet when he moved the stereo so there was room for the tray.
Embarrassed at being caught goofing off on the job, she knew her face was pink when he turned back to her, but she walked toward him and tried like hell to ignore the heat. She pasted a practiced smile on her face but faltered when she noticed there were two bowls of soup as well as several warm biscuits.
“You went to town?” she asked carefully. The chowder was from the diner—she’d know that delicious scent anywhere.
“I did.” He winked. “Apparently, I’m not to feed you beer or yogurt.”
“You don’t have to feed me at all.”
Okay. That sounded rude, but Cooper didn’t seem to notice. He pulled out a box for her, and she sat down on it, accepting the warm chowder with a quick nod and watching him from beneath lowered lids as he pulled over another crate for himself.
“Hope you don’t mind. I thought I’d join you.”
She did mind, but Morgan wasn’t about to let him know that. “Suit yourself.”
After a few spoonsful of chowder, Morgan cleared her throat and took a shot at some sort of conversation. It was better than the god-awful silence and Cooper’s probing gaze.
“So what’s with the beer and yogurt?” she asked, nibbling at her biscuit and pulling on the edge of her sweatshirt. He followed the movement, and she immediately stopped.
Cooper swallowed a mouthful of chowder and shrugged. “Aside from a jar of pickles and a container of milk, it’s pretty much all there is in my fridge.” He paused. “Oh, and some sauerkraut.”
Her eyebrow shot up. “Sauerkraut?”
“I like it on eggs.”
“That’s the weirdest combination I’ve ever heard.”
“So I’ve been told.”
“And you don’t have eggs.”
A sly smile his features. “This is true.”
She took another bite from her biscuit. “So you have a thing against real food?”
He swallowed another mouthful of soup, and she couldn’t help but notice his mouth. It was full, almost too full for a man, but his strong jaw and slightly crooked nose made it work. The man was attractive with a capital A—she’d have to be a nun not to notice—and she glanced away, suddenly aware of the disparity between them.
Cooper Simon was money, power, family, and fame. He had a penchant for married women and a taste for scandal; yes, she’d googled the guy. And Morgan? Something deflated inside her, and she tugged on the frayed edge of her sweatshirt again.
She forgot what it felt like to be something other than what she was. A nobody girl, stuck in a town she hated, weighed down with the memories of a life she missed so desperately, it hurt.
“I love food. Especially Thai. It’s the grocery stores. I hate them.”
His voice dragged her from her thoughts, and, suddenly queasy, she set her half-eaten bowl down.
Cooper grabbed another biscuit. “In fact, I hate pretty much any form of shopping that doesn’t involve using my computer.” He winked at her. “I guess, being a woman, you wouldn’t understand that sort of thing.”
Her back straightened. Did he just say that? “That’s a pretty stereotypical generalization.”
He looked surprised. “You don’t enjoy a good day of retail therapy?”
“No. I don’t.” Her voice was clipped, but she couldn’t seem to help herself. She was done with the pleasantries. Morgan preferred to be alone, and right now, Cooper Simon was in her space. She didn’t like it. Not one freaking bit.
“I guess that was a dumb-ass assumption on my part.”
Again with the smile. It was starting to get on her nerves. “You can stop that, you know.”
He cranked his head up. “Come again?”
