Confused, Lexie made her way back into the bedroom and settled on the mattress. “Maybe he went to pick up breakfast,” she said aloud.
Then why wouldn’t he have told her he was leaving?
She clicked the spacebar a few times and her laptop powered up. There, on the screen, weren’t the color samples she’d told him to look over. Instead, she found herself staring at the Web site she’d glanced at earlier: How to See Australia Like a Native.
No wonder Coop was gone.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
COOP FOUND HIS FATHER at home. He still lived in the small house off the Grand Central Parkway that he’d shared with his wife. His morning routine hadn’t changed. Cornflakes and milk along with black coffee and the news on TV.
Coop poured himself a mug and joined his dad at the kitchen table.
“So what brings you by so early this morning?” Wearing a worn pair of jeans and a white T-shirt, Jack leaned back in his chair and studied his son.
“I need a favor.”
His father raised a bushy eyebrow. “Sounds intriguing.”
Coop look at him, surprised. “How is that possible? I didn’t tell you anything yet.”
“You forget I’m a cop. I find intrigue everywhere,” he said, deadpan. “Besides you never ask for favors, so this must be good.”
Coop shrugged. The man had a point. “You know the ring I got from the jewelry store?”
“Do I know the ring?” he asked wryly. “Cops foil robberies every day without fanfare but my reporter son steps up and he’s not just a hero but the city’s most famous bachelor.”
“Way to show your pride, Dad.” Coop took a long sip of his coffee. Good thing he knew his father was, in fact, proud of how he’d handled the situation or he’d take his words personally.
Jack cracked a smile. “So what about the ring?” he asked.
Coop set his mug down on the table. “It might be part of a cold case from the early ’50s.” Coop went on to explain the details of the robbery, excluding Lexie’s grandmother’s possible involvement.
At the mention of an unsolved case, his father’s eyes opened wide. “What are the chances?” he said in awe. “So what’s the favor?”
“Get me into the storage room with the cold case files. I want to dig around and see if I can put some pieces together.”
Jack nodded. “Guess I can pull some strings and do that. Make sure you wear old clothes. You won’t believe how filthy it is down there. The room’s in the bowels of an old building.”
Coop grimaced. “Sounds appealing.”
His father laughed. “So now that we’ve got business out of the way, let’s talk personal. Tell me about that pretty lady of yours.”
Coop stiffened. He had no desire to discuss Lexie with his father. “I don’t suppose I can just get up and leave now?”
Jack rose and headed for the sink, rinsing his cup and placing it in the dishwasher. A big change from the man who used to leave the mess for his wife to take care of, Coop thought, proud of how far his father had come.
“I like that gal. She’s got spunk and brains. You need to bring her around when the bar’s less busy. I want to get to know her better.”
Coop groaned. “I wouldn’t get too attached to her, if I were you. She’s too much like Annie.”
“She cheated on you already?” he asked, sounding outraged on his son’s behalf.
Coop winced at the blatant reminder. “Hell, no. She likes to travel,” he clarified. “She’s got one foot out the door at all times. The woman doesn’t even have a place of her own. Her home base is a bedroom in her grandmother’s apartment.”
Jack rubbed his razor-stubbled face. “So she’s quirky. Doesn’t mean she’s unobtainable. Maybe you have to step up your game.”
“I think you’ve been reading too many romance novels.” Since Coop’s mother passed away, Jack had been known to have a drink of scotch and dip into one of his mother’s old paperbacks.
“Low blow, son.” Jack actually flushed red.
Coop shook his head. “Are you seriously suggesting I invest more of myself in someone who’s a sure bet to leave?”
“Is she worth the risk?” Jack walked over to his son. “’Cause a good woman is hard to find and this one seems solid. She hangs around the bar even when she knows nobody. And the way she looks at you?” He let out a slow whistle. “Maybe you can’t see the difference through the hurt.”
“Easy for you to say, considering Mom was a keeper.”
His father’s eyes lit up at the mention of his wife. “If you’re so sure Lexie isn’t, what are you still doing hanging around with her?” Jack asked in that wise-father way he had.
“I have my reasons,” Coop muttered. For one thing, she held clues to the ring’s past.
But he could have researched the case with Lexie and not gotten involved with her personally or intimately, a voice in his head reminded him. He’d chosen to go deeper.
No, Coop thought, he hadn’t chosen. He’d been compelled to get to know her on every level, in every way.
Because apart from the sex being phenomenal, Lexie provided a positive jolt and boost to his mood, his work, his life. He enjoyed being with her in ways that transcended anything he’d experienced before.
In Annie, he’d found young love.
In Lexie…Coop shut down that train of thought, unwilling to go further. If he didn’t think about his feelings for her, just maybe she couldn’t slice out his heart the way Annie had.
If he were smart, he’d walk away now while he was still whole. But he wasn’t ready to give her up until he had to. A time he now knew was approaching faster than he’d planned or liked.
“You know what your problem is?” Jack asked, interrupting Coop’s dark thoughts.
“No, but I’m sure you’re going to tell me.”
Jack grinned. “You’re always so damn afraid of failing that you don’t take chances.”
“Is this about dropping out of the academy instead of risking permanent injury?” Coop pushed his chair back and stood up.
Jack ran his hand over his face again. “You would have made a damn good cop. You have the head for the detective work, but the injury risk was real.”
Coop exhaled a slow groan. At least he’d acknowledged that.
“But that doesn’t change the fact that you’re afraid of failing. Hell, yes, you’re a fine reporter, but you haven’t made it as a novelist. Why? Because you aren’t putting your heart and soul into your books. If you did, you’d be at the top of that profession, too!” Jack’s voice rose, carrying and echoing in the small house.