Making a Comeback. Kristina Mathews
do use my magazines?” She laughed. For the last ten years, she’d been trying to convince herself that the idea of strangers getting their kicks while looking at her magazine covers was just a myth. That there weren’t men or boys using her picture to fuel their fantasies. But this man had admitted it.
“I don’t need the magazines.” He reached a trembling hand to touch her knee, almost as if he was making sure she was real. “Your face is burned into my soul.”
“Oh.”
“Do you know how many times I’ve slept with a woman and pretended she was you?”
“I don’t think I want to know.”
“You’re right. You don’t.” He closed his eyes and leaned back against the couch, letting out a frustrated groan.
“I should get to bed.” She pushed herself off the couch, but swayed with a rush of dizziness.
“Let me help you.” Cooper stood, taking her arm and steadying her. “I’m here to help you heal. That’s all. I can’t be anything more.”
She nodded, somehow knowing he was lying to both of them.
* * * *
Too bad he’d never been a Boy Scout, then he’d know how to help a woman up the stairs without wanting something for himself. He tried to think of the last time he’d done something, anything, without expecting something in return. Even his long-standing work with the Harrison Foundation had been more about furthering his career than helping kids. He did the pitching clinics to endear himself to the community and the organization, not because he thought a week spent with him and his teammates would give some poor kid a shot at making it as a ballplayer.
When he donated large sums of money to various charities, he considered it part of his job. The team and the league had their pet causes and he’d wanted to be seen as a team player. A Goliath on and off the field. The tax write-offs helped, too.
So, it was hard to convince himself he was helping Annabelle just to be neighborly. He wanted something from her. Wanted it real bad. So it was perfectly fitting to find himself guiding her to her bed, knowing full well he couldn’t join her.
Penance. That had to be what this was, payback for all the selfish shit he’d pulled in his life. He’d never been a particularly religious man, but he couldn’t help but wonder if there was some higher plan in delivering the one woman he’d always wanted to the house next door. There was a catch, of course. The pretty packaging came with a warning. Fragile. But wait, there’s more! Two vulnerable little girls, innocent children who’d already been subject to the breakup of their parents’ marriage, a move, and the scare of finding their mother in a hospital bed with tubes in her arms and bandages on her head.
Annabelle Jones was most certainly payback for all the things in his life that Cooper had gotten so easily. Pretty much everything he’d ever wanted, and a whole lot he didn’t. He’d been given more than his fair share.
And now, as he tucked Annabelle into her bed, he realized the irony.
“Can I get you anything?” He was going to give if it killed him.
“No.” She shook her head, wincing at the effort.
“Okay, then.” He stood, ready to go to the guest room and stare at the ceiling all night.
“Wait.” She sat up. “Could you bring me a glass of water?”
“Sure. No problem.” He inched toward the door.
“And could you…” Her cheeks tinged pink, making her look almost angelic. “Could you sing to me? Like you did for the girls?”
“Sure.” Angelic. Devilish. Either way, she was torture. “Water and a song.”
He went downstairs for his guitar and a glass of water.
When he got back to Annabelle’s room, she was already asleep. He set the water glass on the bedside table and watched her for a little longer than was healthy. Kissing her had been a mistake. She’d been hotter and sweeter than any of his fantasies. He’d never get the taste of her out of his system.
A cry from down the hall startled him. He crept quickly and quietly to the room the twins shared.
“Mommy! Mommy! Don’t die.” One of the girls cried out in her sleep. He could just make out the image of Olivia tossing and turning in her pink bed.
“Shhh. It’s okay.” Cooper knelt next to her bed. “Mommy’s sleeping. She’s fine, she’s going to be just fine.”
Olivia sat up, blinked a few times, and then threw her arms around his neck. “Mommy’s car was on fire.”
She buried her sobs in his neck.
“It was just a dream.” He patted her back and spoke gently. “Just a dream, sweetheart.”
Slowly, her sobs subsided. She sniffled and wiped her nose on his T-shirt. But he didn’t mind. Not one bit.
“Will you sing me a song?” Olivia asked. She was wide awake and bright eyed now. “Please?”
“I don’t want to wake your sister.” But he knew he’d give in.
“It’s okay.” Sophie stirred in her light blue and yellow bed. “I had bad dreams, too.”
“I know a song you might like.” Cooper positioned himself on the floor between the two beds. He sat cross-legged with his guitar in his lap. He sang softly, in the words of Bob Marley, entreating them not to worry about a thing.
He sang as many uplifting, hope-affirming songs as he could think of off the top of his head. Mostly classic rock ballads he was sure the six-year-olds had never heard of, but they seemed to enjoy the music. Then, after the girls had fallen asleep, he plucked at a melody that had been playing around in his head. A song that sounded like longing for something just out of reach. He had no lyrics yet, but knew the song would be titled “Annabelle.”
Chapter 6
Was that bacon she smelled? Annabelle woke feeling stiff and sore, but a little more clear-headed than yesterday. And she was definitely hungry. She pulled her hair into a quick ponytail, brushed her teeth, and headed downstairs.
Cooper was helping Olivia and Sophie make breakfast. Both girls were covered in flour and standing on a chair at the stove making pancakes. Cooper even had a spot of flour in his hair. Who would have thought a pink and white polka dot apron could make a man look so sexy?
“Good morning.” He offered a sleepy smile as he turned off the gas burner. “I hope you’re hungry.”
“I am.” Annabelle made her way toward her daughters and kissed each of them on the top of their heads. “Did you girls help make breakfast?”
“We made pancakes,” Olivia said proudly.
“And bacon and chocolate milk.” Sophie also beamed with pride.
“I made coffee, too.” Cooper went over to the coffee maker and grabbed the pot. “Would you like some?”
“Yes please.” She got the half and half out of the fridge. She’d given up the sugar, but not the cream. A dash of cinnamon helped.
“Did you sleep well?” he asked.
“Mostly.” When she wasn’t reliving the kiss and the way he’d pulled away so quickly afterward.
“Did you take anything for pain?”
“No. I’m afraid of feeling even more fuzzy-headed. And the over-the-counter stuff doesn’t really help.” She took a sip of her coffee, sighing at the rich flavor and aroma. “Besides, it’s mostly just muscle aches. I’ll feel better in a few days.”
“I have this lotion I’ve used for sore muscles. It’s all-natural, safe, and legal.” Cooper’s lips curled