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31
The phone rang in Suite 1100 as Cooper Madison tasted one of the pieces of Andouille sausage from his steaming shrimp pot.
“Mr. Madison,” Simon began on the other end, “Miss Cara Knox is on her way up. Will there be anything else I can help you with?”
“Thank you kindly, Simon,” Coop replied, “I think I’m all set.”
“Very well, Mr. Madison. Enjoy your evening.”
“You too.”
It’s game time… Why am I so nervous? Get it together, Coop…
Coop could hear the gate of the 1908 Otis “Birdcage” elevator open from inside his suite. The elevator, which had been meticulously maintained in all of its original glory by the owners of the Westcott Hotel, was one of Coop’s favorite amenities at his new residence. It reminded him of so many similar elevators still in operation in and around the French Quarter in New Orleans.
Coop could see Cara Knox exit the elevator through the peephole on his front door, and he found himself verbalizing the first thought that came to mind.
“Whoa…”
He was happy that she had not dressed up for the occasion, as his relationship with the former Miss Mississippi had soured his view on women who always had to be dressed to the nines, even if they weren’t leaving the house.
As he gazed upon Cara as she approached the front door to Suite 1100, he felt a strong appreciation for the designer of her tank top and khaki shorts combination.
Before Cara could knock, he opened the door.
“Miss Knox…” greeted Cooper, summoning his best southern hospitality.
“Well hello, “ Cara responded, obviously startled that he was waiting for her. “I was kinda hoping for those last few seconds to collect myself before I knocked…”
Thanks a lot, Simon…
“Would you like me to close the door so we can have a do-over?” Cooper mused.
Cara laughed, “No, I’m good…”
“Please… come on into my humble abode…” offered Cooper as he stepped back and gestured with an open arm to the suite behind him, which was anything but humble.
Cara smiled and entered, immediately noticing the enticing smell coming from the kitchen.
“Something sure smells wonderful. Did you actually cook it yourself, or do you have a butler slaving away back there?”
“I will have you know, Miss Knox, that I pride myself on my ability to cook many meals. As long as those meals involve a shrimp pot, that is…”
“Okay the whole ‘Miss Knox’ thing is creeping me out now,” Cara chided. “While I truly appreciate the southern charm, please just call me Cara.”
Cooper held his hands up, feigning surrender.
“No problem, Cara. My apologies…”
“No… I’m sorry,” Cara replied, immediately feeling guilty. “You see, I suffer from a serious affliction. I have an inability to think before I speak at times, and I’m pretty sure that they forgot to install the filter when they made me…”
“Don’t…” Coop countered.
“Don’t what?” Cara asked, puzzled.
“Don’t ever apologize for that,” Coop replied. “I find it completely refreshing. I’ve spent the better part of my life surrounded by people who always had a filter on around me.”
Cara was taken aback, and before she could respond Coop continued.
