The Perfect Homecoming (Pine River #3)

“I told you, I don’t have anything that belongs to Carl. Not one thing. He’s desperate and he’s acting like an idiot, and he happens to be very good at that.”


“I won’t disagree,” Cooper said. “But that doesn’t mean he’s lying.” He smiled a little, which made his eyes glimmer in the winter light. “But you know what? He seems pretty damn sure you do have it. He’s so sure, in fact, that he was willing to pay me a lot of money to come up here and get it. So why not hand it over? Then you can go back to your life, and God knows I’ll get back to mine.”

Emma didn’t like the way he sounded so eager to get back to his. And really, Carl had sent him out here for a forgotten old medal? Why? Emma curiously studied Cooper a moment. “What’s a lot?” she asked skeptically.

“None of your business. But let’s just say there were more than a few zeroes attached.”

That made Carl a lot crazier than Emma had previously believed. God, she should never have gone to Malibu with him! Frankly, she should never have done a lot of stuff she’d done in the last ten years, but then again, she was her own worst enemy, never able to resist the temptation to hurt herself with bad-news men. Why she couldn’t be normal, couldn’t be comfortable with someone like Cooper, why she couldn’t believe that was even possible . . .

Okay, so she was messed up. But she was not as messed up as Carl Freeman, apparently, and there was some consolation in that. “If you’re taking money from him, that kind of makes you a mercenary, doesn’t it?” she asked, hoping, she supposed, to shame Cooper off the porch.

Cooper looked surprised, and then he laughed. He was not easily shamed. “Money talks, baby. And if you took the medal from him, what does that make you?”

An enormous rush of shame swept through Emma. She knew what it made her. She knew how despicable she was. She folded her arms over her body, holding herself tightly. “That would make me a thief. Which I am not, which I keep trying to tell you. I didn’t take his stupid medal.”

“Hmm,” he said dubiously, his gaze sliding down her body.

Great. She was a horrible liar. Emma was going to have to shift tactics. “What’s really going on here? Are you doing this because I wouldn’t let you kiss me in Beverly Hills?” It was a pure shot in the dark. She had no illusions about what had happened that night at Beverly Hills. But she also knew men did not like to be challenged on their game.

Lo and behold, her question had the desired effect. Cooper stared down at her in shock. “Are you kidding?”

“Not kidding. You wouldn’t be the first guy who doesn’t like rejection. Usually guys like you can’t bear it.”

“Guys like me?”

“Yeah,” she said, nodding. “Guys who are used to girls wanting them. And then when one doesn’t, they can’t handle it.”

He swayed back, his eyes narrowing. “In what universe did you reject me?” he demanded.

“You wanted me to have a drink with you. I said no.” She shrugged, letting that stand as the Great Rejection of Beverly Hills. Say it enough, and they believe it.

But like that night in Beverly Hills, Cooper didn’t bite. He suddenly chuckled, then shifted forward and touched her arm, his hand curling around her elbow and drawing her close. “Here’s the funny thing about that, Emma,” he said, his voice smooth and deep. He bent his head so that his mouth was very close to hers, and her pulse began to flutter like an army of hummingbirds. “If I’d wanted to have you that night . . . I would have had you.”

She gaped at his audacity as a stronger, heart-melting shiver of delight raced through her. Bravo! she wanted to shout. She couldn’t think of a time a man had ever said that to her, had ever been so bold with her. She glanced down at the hand on her elbow that was now beginning to trail lazily up her arm to her shoulder.

“Here’s what’s going to happen now,” he said, his finger now sliding across her shoulder. “I’m going to be around town a few days, so you’ll have plenty of time to think about the medal and what you want to do with it.” He moved his finger on to her chin, drawing a tantalizing line from ear to ear. “I’ll check in with you and see if you haven’t decided to hand it over after all. Because we both know you have it.” He touched her bottom lip, his finger lingering there, and he smiled in a sexy, self-confident way that reminded her of the male stars in the films Emma poured herself into to escape the truth of her life, and it sent another, much more aggressive wave of impossible desire down her spine.

Emma didn’t like that. She didn’t like that at all. She didn’t like the way she was melting inside or had lost the upper hand. She didn’t like the powerful tug of attraction, because that was where the bad news always started. She tried to bite his finger, but he was too quick; he yanked it away from her lip a hairbreadth before she snapped.