A Bride for the Black Sheep Brother

Ten


When Cooper returned to Denver on Monday morning, he found staying away from Portia was harder than it should have been. But after all, she’d been right. He did have a business to run. Normally, he worked long hours. The work demanded it. He demanded it of himself. If he didn’t expect himself to give Flight+Risk everything he had, then he wouldn’t ask employees to do the same. Despite that, as one week bled into the next, he found himself increasingly distracted by Portia.

They spoke on the phone almost every night. The nights they didn’t talk, they video chatted. Every telephone conversation was ostensibly about the project, but that didn’t mitigate the intimacy of lying in bed at night, listening to her talk about her day. He automatically found himself describing the ups and downs of running Flight+Risk. Maybe it came from her years of marriage to Dalton, or maybe from the psychology degree she swore she never used, but she had a keen understanding of what it took to run a company and manage so many personalities. All of which made her very easy to talk to.

Worse still were the hours the hours they spent video chatting. She insisted he needed to see things like sample fabrics and invitations and that the easiest way to do that was through Skype. Who was he to complain when it gave him the chance to see her relaxed with a glass of wine in one hand, her hair twisted up in an easy knot on the top of her head, dressed in adorable pajamas dotted with snowmen. He never would have thought snowmen could be sexy, but on Portia, they were more tempting than the hottest lingerie.

He delighted in taking them off her over and over again the following weekend when he visited her in Provo. Yes, he was there to check on her progress, but in reality, they spent much of their time in bed. The weekend after that, he didn’t even bother going up to Bear Creek Lodge more than once. Instead, they stayed in Provo. There seemed to be an unspoken agreement between them that they would only be together as long as the project lasted. Suddenly, a month didn’t seem like nearly enough time.

It was early Sunday morning, before they’d even finished their coffee, he looked up to see her savoring a bite of her croissant. Her eyes drifted closed as she licked the flaky pastry off her fingertips.

She looked delightfully sensual, and it was all he could do not to take her back to bed right then. Instead he skimmed his hand up her bare leg and teased. “Didn’t I tell you they had the best food in town?”

She shifted into his touch. “You were right. I will never doubt you again for as long as I live.”

The husky promise in her words sent a thrill through him. It was the first time she’d so much as hinted at anything beyond this month.

She must have realized her meaning as soon as he did, because she stilled instantly, then pulled back. “I mean, for as long as we’re together. Which won’t be more than a few more weeks.”

He studied her, taking in the panic written clearly on her face. “Right,” he said grimly.

She scooted off the bed and slipped into the robe she’d dropped on a nearby chair. He scrubbed a hand down his face, trying to wipe off what he feared was a kicked-puppy expression. Man, could she make it any clearer that she was in this for the short-term?

“I didn’t mean anything by that.” She turned back around, frowning. “You know that, right?”

“Yeah. It’s pretty clear.”

She laughed nervously. “Good, because I know this can’t last. I know that. It’s like, the weirdest relationship ever, right?”

“What?”

“You and I. I feel like we’re horribly mismatched.”

He felt like he’d been sucker punched by her words. Part of him knew he should let it go. Change the topic. Distract her with sex. Anything. But instead, he asked the really stupid question. “Why do you say that? Is it because of Dalton? Are you still in love with him?”

“Dalton?” she asked, sounding vaguely surprised.

“You were with him a long time.” Why was he asking this? He didn’t really want to know, did he? Just like he didn’t really want to know why she insisted on having her own hotel room when he came into town or why she was always pushing him to go back to Denver on Mondays. Clearly, she took this no-pressure fling thing very seriously. Did he really need her to spell it out for him? “And I know you asked for the divorce, but...hell, I don’t know. Just because you couldn’t stand to be married to the guy anymore doesn’t mean you don’t still miss him.”

“Dalton?” she asked, her expression shifting from panicked to something more serious. “No. I don’t miss him. And I don’t love him anymore, either.” She was silent for a long moment while she considered. “But I do miss the part of me that married him.”

Cooper raised an eyebrow, and she laughed nervously, ducking her head as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. At least she didn’t look like she was going to run from the room anymore.

“I mean, I miss the innocence and hope that I had when I married him. I miss the girl who thought she had love all figured out. I miss her. I miss being her.”

She sounded so sad when she said it. So mournful. And listening to her talk, Cooper actually missed that girl, too. That young Portia, who’d been so full of hope. Jesus, had he ever been that young? Had he ever felt like that? Like he might have love all figured out? No. Not that he remembered.

If it had been any other person, he would have sneered at her sentimentality. But it was Portia. So instead he just wanted to comfort her. To protect her.


“You could get married again,” he suggested.

Why the hell had he said that? What if she thought he wanted to marry her? Because, damn, what kind of idiot brought up marriage to a woman he was sleeping with if he didn’t want to marry her?

But thankfully, Portia didn’t go there. She shook her head. “I think I’m past that stage of my life. I think I’m just done hoping for a happily ever after.” She raised a hand to ward off any objections he might have voiced—if he’d been the type to believe in happily ever after. “I don’t mean to sound bitter. I’m not. It’s just that I tried dating after Dalton. No one was worth the effort. No one wanted the things I do and I’m past twisting my expectations to fit someone else’s reality.”

“What do you mean no one else wants the things you do?”

“Do you know why Dalton and I got divorced?”

“Because he was a heartless bastard who spent too much time working and never appreciated what an amazing woman you are?”

Her mouth twisted into a half smile and she chuckled a little. As if she didn’t really believe the compliment but appreciated it anyway. Then her smile faded. It was like the time-lapse photography version of the way she’d dimmed over the years she’d been with Dalton.

“Actually, that wasn’t it at all. I never minded how dedicated he was to Cain Enterprises. I knew what I was getting into when I married him. I knew I’d always come second. It wasn’t that. I could have put up with that indefinitely.”

“You shouldn’t have had to,” Cooper said gently.

She ignored him. “But I wanted kids.”

“And he didn’t?”

“No, he was fine with the idea of kids. We tried for years, in fact. It just didn’t work out.”

Her head was tipped down as she said it, making her expression impossible to read, but he heard the sorrow in her voice. The unspoken pain. He remembered now—one Christmas when Caro had whispered something about a miscarriage. The implication that it hadn’t been the first. And he couldn’t help thinking about the toll that had taken on Portia.

“I’m sorry.” Sorry didn’t begin to cover it. Not even close, but there was so little he could say. She shrugged, something in the movement making him think that it wasn’t his sympathy she wanted, but something else entirely. “And that’s why you got the divorce?”

“Yes, it is. I wanted to keep trying. He didn’t.”

“He should have—”

“Don’t get me wrong. I don’t blame Dalton. Infertility takes its toll on a relationship. It’s easy to become obsessed with it. I was so desperate for kids, sometimes I think he was right to put a stop to it. I wanted more and more fertility treatments. Then when those didn’t work, I wanted to adopt. He insisted we slow down, take a break. I asked for a divorce.”

Her voice was oddly quiet—almost emotionless—as she recounted the end of her marriage. Still, he heard the guilt in her words. She blamed herself, not Dalton, for how things had ended. But Cooper knew the truth—Dalton was a heartless bastard who’d ignored his wife’s needs. Maybe that wasn’t the whole story, but that was how Cooper saw it.

“He should have been a better husband.”

She smiled again. Another one of those smiles that was a little sad and a little wry and broke his heart a little. “That’s not the point of the story.”

“Okay, then what is?”

“You asked why I didn’t think I’d marry again. This is why. While I’m the first person to admit I got too obsessed with it last time around, becoming a mother is still very important to me. After Dalton, I thought I would meet someone else. Someone who wanted kids like I did. That hasn’t happened and I’m weirdly okay with that. I don’t need a husband to be a mom.”

“You’re going forward with the fertility treatments,” he summed up.

“No. That was what made me so crazy last time. This time, I’m going to adopt.”

He sat back in his chair slowly. “I see.”

Her gaze darted to his, suddenly sharp. “You do?” she asked suspiciously.

“Yeah.” Because this was Portia and she didn’t do anything halfheartedly. She held herself coolly distant from something until she’d decided to commit, then she threw herself into it 100 percent. “I’m thinking you’re not the type to adopt some rosy-cheeked baby, are you?”

“Of course, I thought about that first. I’ve been working with an adoption attorney for over a year now. So far no luck.”

“Why not? You’ll be a great mom.”

“Private adoptions are tricky. There’s a lot of putting out feelers and then waiting to see if you get any takers. And there are a lot of couples out there trying to adopt. I guess when a woman is looking for the perfect parents to raise her baby, she automatically thinks of two parents. Not just one.” She gave a little shrug. But then her eyes took on the glow of excitement. “Which is why I’m thinking about going through the foster care system. Adopting an older kid. There are so many who need homes and—” Then she broke off nervously, as if she’d just spilled a secret she hadn’t meant to share. “I haven’t told this to anyone yet. I don’t know why I’m telling you now.”

He leaned back and studied her, marveling all over again that she was just as beautiful at thirty-two as she’d been at twenty-one. And that the more he got to know her, the more attractive he found her. The deeper layers of Portia’s personality revealed intelligence and passion, selflessness and sensitivity. Which frankly kind of sucked.

“You were telling me why we made the strangest couple ever.” He couldn’t help the note of grim finality in his voice.

She didn’t seem to hear it though. “But I guess it doesn’t matter if this isn’t anything more than just two friends who happen to enjoy each other’s company in bed.”

“Right,” he said, suddenly feeling unexpectedly deflated. “Because we were never going to be anything more than a brief fling.”

“Exactly,” she said, sounding more cheerful than she had earlier. “If I was looking for anything more than that, you would be my last choice.”

“Your last choice? Ouch.”

“Don’t pretend to be wounded. You don’t want to be a father. And even if you wanted something longer than this, you and I in a real relationship would be very messy.”

“It’s already messy. We jumped right past the part where it would have been anything else.”

Her lips twisted into a smile. “True, but I’ve already had my heart broken by one Cain brother. I don’t think I’m up for round two.”

And that was one argument he couldn’t possibly defend himself against, because in the end, she would always be Dalton’s ex-wife. Neither of them could outrun that. And she was right. They could never have more than just this month, because he couldn’t give her the things she really wanted.

He took another sip of her coffee and then asked, “Is that the real reason you’re doing this?”

She turned and looked back at him. “Pardon?”

“Your adoption plans? Are they the real reason you’re so desperate to find the missing heiress?”

She frowned. “I don’t understand—”


“You’re so worried about how she’s going adapt to having wealth and social position thrust upon her. You’re so desperate to make sure she can handle it. It’s not really about her at all, is it? It’s about this kid you want to adopt.”

“I—” The furrow between Portia’s brows deepened as she blinked in confusion. “I hadn’t thought about it.” Slowly, her shoulders sagged. “I don’t know. Maybe it is. I’m trying to be smart about this adoption thing. Trying to plan ahead and think through all the hidden pitfalls. But in the end, I’m planning on taking some kid out of her world and bringing her into mine. She’ll have all kinds of resources that she doesn’t have now, but she’ll still be living in a world that’s harsh and cutthroat.”

He couldn’t help but smile at that. “If you’re adopting some kid out of foster care, there’s a decent chance she’s coming from a world that’s harsh and cutthroat.”

“Good point. But at least that world is familiar. She knows the rules. She knows what to expect.”

“You’re forgetting one thing. She’s going to have you in her corner. With you at her back, she’ll be fine.”

She reached across the table and gave his hand a friendly but dismissive squeeze. “I’m glad we’re friends.”

Friends? Was she kidding? They’d just had some of the best sex of his entire life and now she was relegating him to the friend zone?

But he was the one who’d worked to sell her on the idea of a no-pressure, just-sex relationship. It was just that he’d never had that with someone he was friends with. Sex with a friend was so much more than he’d ever bargained for. And he couldn’t help thinking that whatever time they had left wasn’t going to be nearly enough.

With two weeks to go before the exhibition, he actually thought about taking time off from Flight+Risk—not to manage the project, but to be with Portia. He certainly had plenty of vacation days. And, hell, what was the point of being the CEO if he couldn’t occasionally take time off to do what he wanted?

The second the thought crossed his mind, he panicked. He’d never once taken a vacation just to take time off. Sure, he went on plenty of snowboarding trips—that was just part of the job, in addition to being the thing he loved best. But there’d never been any woman in the world he’d wanted to ditch work to hang out with. The fact that he felt that way about Portia was enough to send him back to Denver fast.

Not that that put her out of his mind. But he took to emailing her instead of calling. He got the endless stream of texts. Although he tried to keep his answers short, he found himself texting her back, responding not only to her questions about work, but sending her personal messages, as well. Before he knew it, he was text flirting with her, for God’s sake.

By the time Thursday rolled around, the first thing he did in the morning was reach for his phone to see if Portia had texted him when she woke up. Like him she was an early riser. Sure enough, there was a text from her.





Made you a reservation at the hotel for Friday and Saturday night. OK?





In fact, it should have been okay. After all, he’d told her he was coming out for the weekend, but the way his heart rate picked up at the idea made him nervous. Before he could analyze his response, another text came through.





Also made appointment for tasting at the bakery on Saturday morning. Ate a croissant on your behalf.





A second later she sent him a photo of a croissant with a large bite taken out of it.

He chuckled at the picture, but there was something else underneath. A pang of longing maybe. He had a day full of meetings and idea pitches—the stuff that was the lifeblood of his company—and all he wanted to do was hop on a plane to Utah so he could feed her bites of croissant.

Annoyed with himself, he typed a quick reply.

Will be off-line most of today. Might not make it out to Provo this weekend after all. Then he added, Keep the hotel res just in case I need a place to crash.

Then he tucked his phone into his pocket, determined to not even glance at it again.

* * *

He made it precisely eleven hours and forty-two minutes before reading the texts she’d sent him throughout the day. There were a couple early in the day, then a flurry later in the afternoon. Then nothing.

By the time he texted her back that night, he hadn’t heard from her in hours. When she didn’t respond right away, he knew he should let it go. Instead, he found himself dialing her number.

She answered quickly, but her voice was subdued. “Hi.” She gave a nervous-sounding chuckle. “Sorry I flooded you with texts today about the flooring.”

“Don’t apologize,” he said, too harshly really. But why the hell was she apologizing? He was the jerk who’d been dodging her texts. “I was just in meetings all day.”

“Sure. No, it’s okay. I got it sorted out. The Becks are still being super accommodating. I shouldn’t have even bothered you.”

“Don’t worry about it. I trust you.”

“That’s just it,” she said abruptly. “I know you do. You’ve got total faith in me. And the Becks, too. Every time I suggest something, they jump right on it.”

“They really want to sell,” he mentioned.

“They’re depending on me to get the hotel in shape for you. You’re depending on me to win over investors. Are you sure you should be trusting me with this?”

“Hey, calm down. You’re sounding all panicky.”

She went instantly silent.

“Why don’t you take a deep breath and tell me what’s really going on here.”

“I don’t know!” she admitted. “Suddenly this just all feels very important. You’re spending a huge amount of money. You may never see returns on this investment. And basically we’re trying to hoodwink your board. This whole endeavor could be doomed. What if we fail? What if I fail?”

“You’re not going to.”

She gave a little snort. “Yeah, your confidence in me is really great, but you know this isn’t Peter Pan, right? If you clap long and hard and swear you believe in fairies, that still doesn’t mean I’m going to be able to pull this off.”

“I don’t think I have a response to that,” he said.

“Why? Because secretly you know I’m right?”

“First off, snowboarders are prohibited from understanding any and all references to Peter Pan. Or any other Disney movie for that matter.”

She gave a bark of laughter. “You are not.”

“Of course we are. It’s in the code.”

“The code?” she asked suspiciously. “There’s no code.”

“Oh, yeah, there’s totally a code. We also can’t stop and smell flowers or order drinks with pink umbrellas.”

From her laugh, Cooper could tell she was beginning to feel less panicked. It was a genuine chuckle, not the crazed bark of laughter that had escaped her a moment ago.

“It sounds like a pretty tough code. What if the bartender gets your drink wrong and puts an umbrella in your Scotch?”

“Well, if that happens you have to just beat the crap out of him.”‘

“So this snowboarder’s code is all about being tough and manly, huh? Is that why you’re not nervous about this? Frankly, you should be even more panicked than I am. Is it just that all those years of throwing yourself off mountaintops has deadened your ability to perceive risks?”


He laughed then. “I guess it might seem that way, huh?”

“Yes, it does.”

“You know the thing about snowboarding, though? People talk all the time about how dangerous it is. And I’m not going to lie. It is dangerous. But when you’re a professional, when you do this for a living, you don’t take unnecessary risks. Planning, knowledge, preparation...those are all things that mitigate the risks. Now you can’t plan for everything, but you prepare for the things you can and you don’t let your fear get in the way. So sure, we all get nervous. We just do it anyway.”

“You don’t seem nervous,” she said begrudgingly.

“Well, that is part of the code. You do what you need to do so you don’t let the nerves show. The nerves, they help you focus. They help you commit to the run. You just hang on. But you never let them get in your way.” He paused for a second to let his words sink in. “This project at Beck’s Lodge, it’s the same thing. Sure, I’m nervous. But I’m also ready. I’ve done the research. I’ve hired you—and believe me, despite any doubts you’re having right now, you are the best at what you do. I’m sure there are plenty of things that will happen in the next month that I can’t prepare for, but that’s just life.”

Again, there was silence on the other end of the line. “You’re not saying anything,” he prodded gently. “Do you need to go do a headstand?”

“Shut up,” she said with a soft chuckle.

“So we’re good here?”

“Yeah. I still don’t understand how you can be so relaxed about everything.”

“Because I’ve got you working on my team. That’s how.”

* * *

After her bout of hysteria, she expected him to get off the phone quickly. There was no way he’d want to stay around for more of her crazy cakes, especially not after he’d been distant for so much of the day.

Honestly, she didn’t quite know what to make of him sometimes. He was confident to the point of being cocky. He was smart as hell and ambitious. Despite all that, she couldn’t shake the feeling that he was also lonely.

She knew better than most how hard it could be to find true friends when your net worth put the county budget to shame. It wasn’t easy making friends under those circumstances. Which was why you had to be loyal to the ones you did make. All the more reason for her to step up and protect Caro. And to take care of the heiress.

But what about Cooper? Who was going to take care of him?

They stayed on the phone a few more minutes after that. Quietly talking. Though she’d gotten used to the phone calls from Cooper from her bed, she was still keenly aware of how close she felt, talking to him. Somehow, their nightly chats seemed more intimate than the hours they actually spent in bed. But eventually, they did hang up. She lay there in bed for several minutes after that, just thinking about Cooper.

She’d never had anyone talk her out of a panic attack before. For that matter, she wasn’t sure there was anyone other than her therapist who even knew she had panic attacks. And Cooper also knew she was trying to adopt, something only her lawyer and social worker knew. Moreover, he hadn’t dismissed the idea.

It felt odd that he knew these secret private things about her that no one else knew.

And it still made her unthinkably sad that he seemed to not have anyone he was close to. Maybe she had it all wrong. Maybe he really was that emotionally self-sufficient. Maybe that was part of the snowboarder’s code. But the more she thought about it, the more she wondered if he didn’t need his sister just as much as she might need him.

Later, Portia did what she should have done two weeks ago. She dug through her contact list for the name of a private investigator that her father’s secretary sometimes used. Portia had only met the man once. When her mother had learned that she and Dalton were getting a divorce, she’d tried to strong-arm Portia into hiring the guy to dig up dirt on Dalton. Turned out the P.I. was too ethical to go behind Portia’s back. She liked the idea of an ethical P.I. Especially one she trusted with sensitive information and whose email address she had handy.