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Morgan unclenched her fingers slowly, stretching them out to retrieve her drink. She didn’t even like beer all that much, but with that piercing gaze on her, she took a drink and then wiped at the foam on her upper lip.
Cooper grinned. “You’ve got ah…”
“Excuse me?”
She froze when he leaned across the table and, using his index finger, cleared a spot of beer foam from the tip of her nose. At that moment, they could have been the only two people in the room. Because Morgan couldn’t see past that masculine hand and forearm. Both of which were attached to a man who freaked her out more than she’d like to admit.
He settled back, that grin still in place. “You had some foam on your nose.”
Morgan took another drink because she didn’t know what else to do and nearly choked on the dark brew. Coughing, she set the mug down and prayed Sara and Hank would return to the table sooner than later.
“I thought this wasn’t your thing.”
She was wondering when he was going to get around to that. “It’s not,” she said slowly, her gaze now on the dance floor. “At least not anymore.”
Had she really said that out loud? She stifled a groan and clutched the cold mug.
“So what happened?”
Morgan took a moment and then slowly turned back to Cooper, a stran
ge kind of feeling washing over her. One that left her aching inside. Since when did she share information? Especially with a man she barely knew?
But she did. “Life happened.”
Her therapist in California would be fist pumping all the way to China if he was here. Acknowledging your pain is the first step towards healing.
“It has a habit of doing that.” He paused. “I’m sorry.”
Her gaze fell to his lips, and something inside her stirred. She must be crazy. Or maybe three gulps of beer had already gone to her head, because Morgan found herself wondering what it would feel like to kiss him. Would he be strong and forceful? Soft and coaxing? Would he take his time or dive right in?
She tugged at a piece of hair and stuck it behind her ear before pulling upward on her turtleneck. That action drew Cooper’s gaze, and Morgan’s hand dropped like a stone. Heart pounding, she searched for something to say—anything to take the heat from her.
“What do you do out in the shop?” she asked quickly, doing what she did best—changing the subject.
Cooper sat back in his chair. “I work.”
His manner struck a chord in Morgan. His body shifted slightly. His eyes narrowed, lips tightened. He was hiding something. Suddenly much more interested, she leaned forward.
“You work. But what’s your job?”
He seemed to be considering his answer, and after taking a long pull from his beer, he set the mug on the table and arched an eyebrow at her. Seriously. Even his eyebrows were exquisite.
“What do you think I do?”
A shot of adrenaline rushed through her, and for a second, Morgan faltered. “I…” She frowned. “I don’t know.”
“That’s fine. Take your time. Consider all the possibilities. I’m curious to see what you come up with.”
A devilish grin touched his mouth, one that did nothing to calm her already fast-beating heart. He cocked his head to the side and waited for her response.
Morgan sat up a little straighter, fingers tracing a pattern in the condensation on her frosted mug. She pursed her lips, brows furrowed a bit, as a ridiculous idea took hold. “I think you’re like a superspy or something.”
He laughed outright. “Not just a regular old spy, but a super one.”
“Would a Simon be anything but?” The quip came fast and without thought, as did the smile that accompanied it.
Cooper stared at her for so long that she squirmed in her seat, and, nervous, she licked her lips.
