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“I write.”
That was unexpected. “Oh.” She frowned. “What exactly do you write?”
Cooper slowly shook his head, that smile still firmly in place. “My turn.” He reached for an artichoke, and her gaze fell to his lips, to that square chin with a slight cleft and the shadow of whiskers that covered his chin. He took a bite and chewed slowly.
Mouth dry, she looked away. Nervous butterflies made her stomach turn over, and a cold sweat broke out on her forehead. Hair stuck to the back of her neck, and it took everything in Morgan not to squirm in her seat like a five-year-old sitting in the principal’s office.
“Do you have any tattoos?” His voice was warm and intimate.
“I…” That came from left field. “No. Do you?”
Cooper laughed. “You know I do.”
Oh. Right. She’d seen him naked. Geez. She glanced away and opened her mouth to ask another question, but Cooper interrupted her.
“My turn again.”
Damn. Morgan scowled. He was good.
“You went to school in California. Why?”
Morgan considered her answer as she poked at the edge of her bruschetta. “I was offered a full ride.”
“Nice,” he murmured. “What kind of scholarship?”
She flashed a smile, suddenly enjoying herself. “My turn.” She paused, studying him for a few seconds. “Is it true Joel McTeer caught you and his wife together?” Joel McTeer was a well-known country singer whose problems with booze and the law had become legendary. He was married to a former NFL cheerleader, Natasha something-or-other, now a celebrated Instagram star.
“Define caught.”
She laughed. “As in naked caught?”
A sly grin crossed his face, and with a small shrug, he set down his wineglass. “I see you’re not averse to using Google after all.”
“Didn’t have to use Google. I remember when it happened.” She grinned. “Answer my question.”
“There was a charity event. Natasha had a lot to drink and was a mess. Her husband didn’t seem to care, so I helped her to her room. Let’s just say McTeer wasn’t appreciative of the fact she was all over me when what I was doing was trying to get her settled.”
Morgan wasn’t sure if she bought this version of events. TMZ’s was so much juicier. “So you weren’t naked? Because they say he chased you out of the hotel room in nothing but your birthday suit.”
“First of all, I would never run from McTeer. The guy’s a goof. And secondly, that never happened. He came into the room, took a drunken swing, and I decided neither one of them was worth the hassle for me to stay and make sure they both got to bed.” He watched her for a few moments. “You seem disappointed.”
“Not disappointed. It just…kind of made a good story is all.”
“What was your scholarship for?” He shot the question at her, and she answered without pause.
“Track.” She licked her lips. “What kind of writing do you do out in the shop?”
The server appeared with their entrees, effectively stopping their game, though as soon as Morgan sampled her seafood fettuccini and waited for Cooper to do the same, she dove right back in.
“Answer?” she said softly. She hadn’t pegged Cooper as the literary sort and thought maybe he did something in the sporting field. Hadn’t one of his cousins played in the MLB? The actor guy, Beau?
He cleared his throat, his electric eyes enigmatic and strangely hypnotizing. She might have forgotten to breathe.
“I write about family. Relationships. Drama. All of it.”
“Like books?”
He flashed a smile. “You seem surprised.”
