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“You’re not going home?”
“No,” she whispered and then pocketed the phone. She ignored the twinge in her leg and picked up the pace.
Overhead, the seagull cried out, swooping across the bluff one last time before diving downward toward the churning sea. It dove beneath the waves before surfacing again, and as the sunlight dappled the water with waves of sparkling diamonds, the seagull took flight and disappeared altogether.
21
Morgan Campbell talked a lot when she was nervous. Cooper wasn’t complaining—he liked watching her. Her eyes came alive, and that adorable mouth was something to behold. The flush in her cheeks gave her skin a soft glow, and occasionally, a small dimple on the right side appeared. He liked that dimple.
He’d spent the entire day with her and had learned a few things.
Morgan Campbell didn’t like peas. She ate chocolate-peanut-butter-chunk ice cream like it was going out of style, and was ambidextrous. She believed in God, was a card-carrying Democrat, couldn’t carry a tune to save her life, and was an avid fan of horror movies. She’d won a square dance competition in the fifth grad
e with a boy named Johnny and had been valedictorian at her high school grad. She’d majored in history, and though she’d been to Europe several times, she’d never made it to Ireland, which was the one place on the planet she longed to visit.
“There’s this pub there that’s been open since 1198 if you can believe it! Seriously. 1198.”
“What was that?” He smiled at the look on her face and secretly fist-pumped when she blushed to the cutest shade ever.
“In Dublin. This pub called The Brazen Head. It hasn’t been closed since the day it opened.” Her grin widened. “Did I mention it opened In 1198? I’d love to go there one day and have a pint of Guinness.”
His eyebrows shot up. “I thought you said you didn’t like Guinness.”
“True.” She giggled. “But how can you not down at least one pint of the stuff while in Dublin?”
I’ll take you there. The thought rolled through his head, and for a second, he thought he’d vocalized it. When he realized he hadn’t, Cooper relaxed a bit, eyes still on the woman who’d managed to capture his attention for longer than any other in recent memory. She was funny, charming, smart as hell, and her giggle was like soft rain falling on the roof at his place in Florida. It gathered momentum until it became a full-blown chuckle you couldn’t help but laugh along to.
He liked making her laugh, and he sure as hell wanted to make her moan.
As he stared across the table at her and toyed with his wineglass, his thoughts took a decidedly wicked turn. God, the things he wanted to do to her. The sounds he wanted to hear falling from her lips as he settled himself deep inside her. The look he wanted to see on her face
when he made her come. The feel of her around him. Tight. Wet. Hot.
He knew it would be good. Screw that. He knew it would be smoking hot.
He pushed his wineglass away and gave himself a quick mental shake, because he needed to go slow with this one. And going slow was going to be hard. He leaned back in his chair, watching the play of light on her skin from the nearby fireplace. She was speaking, but her voice trailed off, words falling away like wind dying in the trees, and the two of them stared at each other for so long, the silence became a big thing that pressed into him.
Eventually, she cleared her throat, which brought his gaze to the delicate skin at the base of her neck. An image of Morgan, head thrown back, him right there with his mouth as he plunged inside her, had Cooper sitting up straighter and fighting to control the sudden need and desire that rolled through him like a damn freight train.
Jesus, it was hot in here.
“Did you hear anything I just said?” Morgan’s voice lowered, a slight quiver coloring her words in a way that made the protective part of him roar to life.
“No.” He didn’t hesitate. Hell, she could have been talking politics, religion, or spouting shit about the weather. He’d been entirely focused on her mouth.
If she was surprised, she didn’t show it. She licked her lips nervously and reached for her wineglass. But instead of scooping it up and finishing the dark red cabernet, she pushed the glass away and folded her hands in front of her. She gave a small half shrug, and something about her expression tore at him. Made him want to grab her up into his arms and hold her and not let go until she wanted him to.
He suddenly realized how hard this was for her. Being here with him. Knowing that sex was on the table. He was going to have to work hard to put her at ease.
“What was it you were saying?” He spoke gently, head cocked to the side. He used every bit of the God-given charm he owned, hoping it was enough to ease her into the rest of the evening.
Morgan licked her bottom lip, which was sexy as hell, and blew out a small breath. “It doesn’t matter.”
“It does.” He leaned forward. “To me it does.”
She looked away for a moment, and the air changed. It crackled, rife with electricity, and there went his damn heart again. Thumping inside him—fast and heavy—he was surprised she couldn’t hear it.
“I asked you what the most embarrassing thing you ever did was.”
