A Bride for the Black Sheep Brother

Six


Five hours later, they were having dinner at a restaurant in Provo. Portia had three different notebooks open in front of her—thank goodness she’d had spares tucked in her bag. Each notepad had a different to-do list on it. A piece of cherry pie sat off to her left with a cup of herbal tea beside it. She was still picking at her fries and the ice cream on her pie was starting to melt, but she didn’t care.

Cooper sat across the booth from her and fiddled with his iPad. He’d already eaten his hamburger and pie and his plates had been cleaned. He must have the metabolism of a racehorse, because he seemed to inhale food voraciously. How on earth did he eat that much and maintain those washboard abs? Not that she knew his abs were tautly muscled. It was just really easy to imagine that they were. Not that she spent tons of time imagining his abs. Or remembering the way he’d played with her hair as he was teasing her.

No doubt about it, Cooper could lay on the charm like nobody’s business. No wonder he had such a reputation as a ladies’ man. Apparently, he couldn’t turn off the charm. All the more reason for her to ignore that completely.

She flipped from one page to the next and gaped at the growing list. “Okay, you’re inviting all the snowboarders, so I don’t need to have anything to do with that.”

“Exactly,” he said. “I’m going to put Jane to work on it first thing in the morning.”

“You can have Jane finalize travel plans, but you should call the talent yourself. Just like you’re going to call the investors.”

“I am?”

“Absolutely.”

“Is that necessary?”

“Yes.” She smiled reassuringly. “You’re a man who throws himself off mountains for a living. Don’t let a few investors scare you. Besides, I’m only going to have you call the ones you either know or have some connection to. If it’s someone I know, I’ll contact them myself before the invitations go out.”

“Someone you know?”

“Sure. And I know a lot of people in real estate. Isn’t that why you asked me to help?” She chuckled at the dazed look on his face. She flipped her notebook back a couple of pages and pushed it across the table, turning it around to face him. “Look, it’s not that bad. You only have to call the ones with the red stars beside their names. It’s all people you’ve met. You phone them, just like it’s a social call, and casually mention the exhibition. Don’t mention investing at all. Just be friendly.”

He studied the page for a moment and then looked up at her with a teasing smile. “Am I supposed to be able to read this?”

She felt a little flutter in her belly. It would be so easy to get lured in by his charm. So easy, and so dangerous. She forced her gaze away from his face back to the notebook. “Yeah. I guess my notes are illegible, huh?” The table was just a little too wide to comfortably reach across it, so she wiggled out of her side of the booth and slid in next to Cooper. She looked down at the page in front of him. It was a bit of a complicated mess of web brainstorming she’d done. She traced her fingertip along the writing as she spoke. “Here we are on this side of the page. You. Me. You said Matt Ballard and Drew Davis voted in your favor so I included them on this side. By the way, you’ve already talked to them right? They’re available?”

“Yeah. They’re in.”

“Good, because I can’t wait to meet Drew Davis.”

Cooper’s mouth turned down at the corners. “Ah. Another Drew Davis fan.”

“Oh, my gosh, yes!” She could feel herself getting a little bouncy, which she did when she got worked up. “I loved his interview with Anderson Cooper after his visit to the White House. He’s so smart.”

“Are we talking about the same Drew Davis?”

“Drew Davis the environmental activist?”

“Drew Davis the snowboarder.”

“Yeah. I guess he did get his start snowboarding.”

“Get his start...” Cooper sputtered, then exhaled slowly. “Drew Davis is the most important snowboarder of his generation. He practically started the sport in America. He...”

“Hey, calm down.” She gave him a surprised look. He sounded offended. She bumped her shoulder against his playfully. “I just meant that I know him more for his work with Save Our Snow. I just think it’s really cool that he’s trying to inform winter sports enthusiasts about environmental issues. It’s a good cause. That’s all I meant.”

Cooper was still frowning as he said, “You know Flight+Risk had the first board on the market made from ninety-five percent postconsumer recycled material.”

She frowned because Cooper still sounded grumpy. Jealous almost. Which was ridiculous, of course. Unless she’d wounded his ego, first by discussing Drew Davis and then by gushing too much about him.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” she cooed in baby tones. “Did I offend you?” She put her hand on his arm and rubbed it. She meant the gesture to be silly and teasing, all mock solicitude. But the second she touched him, she was strangely aware of his strength. Was he just super tense or were all his muscles this...steely? Because even through the fabric of his shirt, it was like touching finely hewn wood. And his arm was so big. Massive compared to hers. Her fingers barely wrapped around it. She’d always thought of herself as a sturdy woman. She was taller than average, nearly five-nine, and fairly athletic. But she felt darn near petite compared to him.

And then, suddenly, she was aware that she was still touching him. That her hand was still rubbing slowly back and forth along his arm. And somehow they both seemed to have stopped breathing completely.

Which was probably for the best, because even without breathing, she could smell the faint hint of his soap. Something woodsy and fresh that smelled so good she wanted to just bury her nose against his neck. Which might be the only thing more awkward than sitting here rubbing his arm endlessly.

Or maybe she would just pass out from being so light-headed. Yes. That would definitely be the best. Then she could excuse her strange behavior as some sort of aneurysm. She waited for several heartbeats. Just in case she conveniently lost consciousness.

“Portia—” Cooper began, his voice sounding unexpectedly husky.

She didn’t give him a chance to finish, but plunged back into her explanation of her notes, talking at breakneck speed to circumvent any possibility of him interrupting. “And then on this side we have each of the nine board members who voted against you. These bubbles around their names are other things they’re involved in. Business ventures, companies, well-known charitable organizations. Anything one of us might have a connection to.”

She had to pause there to take another breath, because—OMG—she might really pass out now.

“Portia—”

Again she didn’t let him get in more than a single word. “So for example, here’s Robertson up at the top. You said he was your biggest opponent. He has ties to March’s department stores, right? And Bermuda Bob’s and Mercury Shoes, because he’s on their boards. And Hodges Foundation, because he donates heavily to them. The idea is we need to find anyone we know that also knows Robertson. We’re not going to invite Robertson himself. That would be too obvious. Instead, we invite other people. People who will spread the word back to Robertson that you’re doing this on your own and that it’s going to be a huge success. So we need to look at all the things he’s involved in and—”


“How did you find all this out?” Cooper asked.

She breathed out a sigh of relief. Thank goodness he wasn’t going to question her excessive arm stroking. Finally, a question she could answer. “Google. And a few phone calls. But mostly Google.”

“That’s a little alarming.”

“Says the man with thirty-four thousand search results.”

“You did a Google search on me?”

“Well, duh. By the way, you had quite the adventurous youth. That scandal with the Swedish model and the photographs of your Olympic medal...wow.”

He scowled. “That was not nearly as big a deal as it seemed.”

“You were reprimanded by the Olympic Committee,” she teased. “Sounds like a big deal to me.”

“Apparently, they take their medals very seriously.”

“Apparently.” She had vaguely remembered the incident when it happened, but that had been right around the time of her first miscarriage, so she hadn’t been following the news much. But reading a decade’s worth of gossip about him had been...enlightening. An endless array of models had paraded through his life. Each more perfect and beautiful than the last.

The Cooper she knew—the easygoing charmer—was vastly different from the ladies’ man the media wrote about. It was a nice reminder for her. This guy she was hanging out with wasn’t the real Cooper. Maybe that guy with the Swedish model wasn’t the real Cooper, either. She didn’t know. Either way, she couldn’t let herself become lulled by this false sense of intimacy. She couldn’t let herself get drawn in by easy charm and his well-hewn arms. She wasn’t the kind of woman he went for. He went for Swedish models who cavorted in fountains, naked but for the Olympic medals around their necks. And with wholesome American models who looked fantastic in Flight+Risk jackets.

Not that it mattered to her. Her interest in his love life...Well, she was just trying to be helpful, that was all.

“By the way,” she began, trying to be circumspect. “And don’t take this the wrong way, but...”

“What?” he prodded.

“Well, the thing is—” She poked at her pie again with her fork.

“Yes?”

Dang it. She was being such an idiot. She set down her fork and twisted so she was looking directly at Cooper. Of course, looking directly at Cooper was like staring into the sun. Mere mortals couldn’t do it for long without risking being blinded. “You realize this is working against you here, right? I mean, the bit with the Olympic medal and all the models and the partying—”

“I don’t date that many models. And I don’t party.” His tone was dark and grim. Again at odds with the guy she knew. Or thought she knew. “I never partied much. It was all just the way media portrays me. They love a bad boy.”

“Exactly.” Though he’d been holding some of those models pretty close in those photos for it to be only image. Not that she cared. “It’s an okay for a snowboarder. It’s even okay for the CEO of Flight+Risk. But for this venture, you need something more upscale.”

He eyed her shrewdly and then said slowly, “Yes. That’s what you’re here for.”

“No, I mean...” Couldn’t the man take a hint? “I know. I’m here to make the event look good. And I can handle that. The staging, the food, the guest list. I can do that. But none of it will make any difference if you show up that weekend with a Swedish model on your arm.”

She cringed at the sneer in her voice. But maybe it was impossible for a normal, human-sized woman to say the words Swedish model without sneering.

“Let me see if I’ve got this right. You don’t think I can keep my zipper up for even one weekend? You think I’d actually risk blowing this deal by dragging some bimbo along?”

“You’re not known for your long attention span when it comes to women.” She reached for his arm again, this time to placate him, not to tease him. “To be honest, it’s not just this weekend. You want to pull this off, you need to be—” She couldn’t even say the next bit without cringing again. “On your best behavior.” She sounded like her mother. “All month long. Total media blackout, okay? From now until after the vote. No models. No cavorting. Nothing.”

“Not just the weekend, huh?” His expression turned so grim, she knew at once he was mocking her. “I don’t know if I can do it. No cavorting at all? No models? What about model trains? Would that be acceptable? Like Swedish model methadone.”

“Ha-ha. You can laugh all you want, but I had to say it. There’s no point in doing this if you’re going to blow it at the last minute.”

“Exactly how much of a player do you think I am?”

His eyes searched her face and something in his expression made her breath catch in her chest. He was so handsome. Not classically handsome, not like Dalton was. Cooper’s nose had an odd bump where he’d broken it, maybe more than once. He had a tiny scar just below his right eye, and another longer one on his cheek. His face looked lived in. Rugged. Like he’d carved out his identity on the slopes that had given him those scars.

He’d lived a lifetime in that face. There was adventure and resilience and determination written on it. And suddenly her fingers twitched to trace each beautiful scar.

God, she was staring. Leaning into him and making calf eyes at him, staring. She had to snap out of it! This was not okay!

She bolted back to her side of the booth. Desperate to put some distance between them. She pulled her notebook back toward her.

“Okay. I’ll try,” he said.

“I’m not joking about this.” She pressed him because his tone still sounded too glib for her taste. And—yes—because she was still so off-balance she didn’t know what else to say. “I need you to take this seriously. Your fans may think this behavior is cute, but the board members see it as a sign of your immaturity.”

“Look,” he said seriously, “I can keep my damn zipper up. All that stuff with the model and the Olympic medal, that was just—”

“All part of your bad-boy image. I get it.”

“No. You don’t.” He exhaled sharply and ran a hand through his hair. “I used to do that kind of thing deliberately. It was my way of thumbing my nose at Hollister and all the other rich jerks who thought I was worthless because I was poor. It was stupid and immature. In my defense, I was twenty-two. But I haven’t dated a model since I was twenty-five. I don’t do that crap anymore.”

For a long moment, she could only stare at him, mutely. Because the facade of the charming playboy had slipped briefly, revealing the man he was underneath. His intensity. His drive. And his courage.

Because she knew—better than most—about all those rich jerks who could make a person feel worthless. How society could ostracize someone for being just a little bit different. Wasn’t that what she’d been avoiding her whole life? Hadn’t she learned that from a young age? You kept your head down and blended in with the herd and maybe you survived. If you stood out too much, the lions took you down.

“I’m sorry,” she said abruptly. “I didn’t mean to sound like I was judging you.”

“Look, this is what you’re here to do.” He gave another one of those harsh sighs. “I created this mess. If I have a shady reputation as an irresponsible playboy, then it’s my own damn fault. I just need you to understand that that’s not who I am. Not now. Yeah, when I was younger, I acted like an ass. I’d won this huge honor and I didn’t respect the medal like I should have.”


“You don’t have to explain.”

But he ignored her. “I’d slept with the model—hell, I barely knew her. And she ‘borrowed’ the medal for a while. I wasn’t even there when she took the pictures. I didn’t know she’d done it until the pictures were all over the internet and the Olympic Committee was calling me on the carpet.”

“It’s really none of my business.”

“I’m not telling you all this to dodge responsibility. I just wanted you to know.”

“Okay.” She thought about Cooper as he’d been when she’d first met him all those years ago. He’d been so charming, but even then she’d seen that crazy quality. That feckless arrogance that had gotten him into so much trouble.

It didn’t take a genius to understand why he’d wanted to thumb his nose at everyone trying to control him. She couldn’t blame him. If she was honest with herself, she admired his courage. Sometimes she wished she’d rebelled more when she was twenty-two.

“Don’t feel like you have to justify what happened. It’s a miracle you don’t have more daddy issues.”

He grinned, but she could see the glint of sadness behind his eyes. The regret sugarcoated in charm. Part of her wanted to probe deeper, but it wasn’t her business, so when he changed the subject a moment later, she didn’t protest.

“So there’s one thing this abstinence plan of yours doesn’t take into consideration.”

“What’s that?”

“If we’re going to pull this off, we’re going to be together a lot.”

Suddenly, her heart rate picked up and she was aware all over again of the intimacy of sitting across the table from him. Of the way he seemed to take up so much space. Of the implication heavy in his voice. They were going to be together. A lot. Did that mean that he was as aware of her as she was of him?

“And?” she prodded. Her heart was pounding as she waited for his next words. Heat spiraled through her body, a secret, intimate heat.

“If we’re together all the time and if you help me host the event, people are going to assume we’re together. People will talk about you.”

“Excuse me?” She squinted at him. That’s what he was worried about?

“Your reputation is pristine,” he said dispassionately. “I don’t want you to damage that by associating with me. So if you’re worried—”

“Wait, you’re worried about my reputation?”

“Sure. A nice girl like you might not want to be seen with a guy like me.”

“Yeah. I get it.” Geesh. Wasn’t that just her luck? Here she was thinking he was irresistible and he thought she was nice. Nice.

Cozy sweaters were nice. Shortbread cookies were nice. Tea was nice.

Nice had been the bane of her existence since she was about twelve when other girls got boobs and high heels and she—since she was so nice—got mosquito bites and ballet flats. Which had gotten her a position organizing the school dance instead of a date to the dance.

All these years later and she was still haunted by nice. Only somewhere along the way, the connotation had shifted around a bit to mean cool and unapproachable. Which, as far as her love life was concerned, was just as deadly.

She pulled her notebook back across the table and slammed it closed. “I’m not worried.”

“Well, I am,” he began. “People will—”

“People will not think that.” She couldn’t quite bring herself to admit aloud that she knew he couldn’t possibly want her. “No one in their right mind is going to believe we’re together.”

“Why?” He narrowed his gaze as tension shifted into his shoulders. “Because you’re too good for me?”

She huffed out a breath. She wanted it to convey indifference, but instead it just sounded pathetic. “Not because I’m too good for you. Because I’m too nice. Too boring to hold the attention of a guy like you.”

He leaned back in the booth and gave her an assessing look. “A guy like me?”

“Well, yeah. Cooper, you’re world renowned as a connoisseur of women.”

He cringed. “I’m not world renowned....”

“Thirty-four thousand hits. That’s pretty renowned. No one is seriously going to believe you’d actually be interested in me.”

“You don’t think I could be interested in you?”

She shrugged, suddenly immensely uncomfortable. He must think she was the most insecure woman ever. How needy could she be?

“Portia, you’re beautiful and smart and rich.”

Her back stiffened. “I’m not fishing for compliments. I’m being realistic.”

“So am I. I’m not complimenting you to stroke your ego. I’m being honest.”

“Okay, then be honest about this, too. Close your eyes for a second.”

“What?”

“Just do it.” She waited until he had. Then she ordered. “Think back to the first time we met. What did you think of me?”

“Portia, this—”

“No. No editing. Just honesty, right? What did you think of me?”

He opened his eyes. “This is stupid. I’m not going to play this game with you.”

“Humor me. It was Christmas Eve. Caro had planned a big family dinner. You’d flown in from Colorado. Is this ringing any bells?”

He clenched his jaw, and she wondered if he wasn’t even going to answer. Then finally he said, “I don’t remember.”

“You don’t remember the dinner?” she prodded.

“I don’t remember meeting you that night.”

She nodded, drawing the action out to buy herself time to let the sting fade before she responded. “That’s about what I thought.”

“How did you know?”

“I didn’t. Not for sure. But when we met again the next summer, you didn’t seem to remember me. That’s the way it is with nice girls. We fade into the background. We’re uninteresting.”

“So what you’re saying—” he took a slow sip of coffee as if he was carefully considering his next words “—is that I couldn’t possibly be attracted to you because you don’t make a good first impression.”