Hold Me Until Morning Read online

  He had a better idea. He’d never taken a girl out on a proper date before—and while he and Paris had been out together a few times, she’d always worn her wig so in a way it didn’t count.

  “Give me ten minutes. We’ll eat out.”

  In his bedroom a dozen fancy bags lay scattered across the floor. Obviously she had bought a lot more than just a rug and cushions. Where the hell had she managed to find room for it all?

  Since she clearly had, he went through into his compact bathroom and had the quickest shower in his life. He’d just finished pulling on fresh jeans when his cell went.

  It was Alex. “Hey.”

  “Ella’s just told me you and Paris are living together.” There was no censure in his brother’s voice but he heard it all the same. If Jackson had called and said that, Cooper would’ve given him some smart comment about minding his own business.

  But this was Alex, and no matter what Paris said about him not being responsible for his brother’s actions in the past, the guilt still ran deep.

  There was only a four-year age gap between them, but in a way Alex was the dad Cooper had never had.

  “That’s right.” Shit, did he sound defensive? His muscles tensed. He always went on the defensive when he went up against Alex.

  He owed Alex his life. He knew that. Fuck, everybody knew that. Just like everyone knew if not for him, Alex would never have ended up inside.

  It was the reason he went along with whatever his brother wanted. Most of the time it suited him. And when it didn’t, he only had to remember just how big a debt he owed Alex.

  “Ella seems to think it’s got nothing to do with you protecting her from the paparazzi.”

  Ella was right. He raked his fingers through his hair. Alex was going to find out sooner or later. He might as well get it over with. “No. It’s personal.”

  There was a silence. Alex was an expert when it came to serving up a significant silence.

  Finally he spoke. “You know nothing’s going to come of this, don’t you, Coop.”

  It wasn’t even a question. He clenched his jaw and swallowed his burning retort. Why the fuck not would tell Alex a whole lot more than he was prepared to share.

  A prickling sensation skated along the back of his neck. He swung round and Paris was at the bedroom door, a questioning smile on her face.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Paris had gone upstairs to find the cute coral jacket she’d bought that afternoon. Cooper was standing in the middle of his bedroom with his back toward her, wearing only his jeans with his cell at his ear, and for a few mouth watering seconds she drank in the perfection of his ripped body. Suddenly going out with him wasn’t nearly as important as pinning him to the bed and exploring every gorgeously toned muscle he possessed.

  Until he turned around and caught sight of her. The look on his face was like a punch in the stomach. What had happened? Who was he talking to? She frowned, but his gaze slipped from hers, and he made his way to the closet and pulled out a shirt.

  Weird. For a second there he’d looked really guilty. She couldn’t think why he would look at her and feel guilt. She joined him at the closet where she’d hung her jacket. Good thing she’d bought hangers while she was out today.

  Cooper stepped away from her. It was almost as though he thought she was trying to eavesdrop on his conversation.

  What was the matter with her? Paranoid much? She shook her head and pulled on her jacket as he muttered something unintelligible into his cell and ended the call.

  “Everything okay?” She turned and smiled at him. He smiled back, but for some reason it sent a strange little chill through her.

  “Everything’s great.”

  She glanced at the end of the bed, where she’d left her wig. He followed her gaze. There was an awkward silence, although she couldn’t figure out why it was uncomfortable. They often snuggled in silence while watching movies on the flat screen.

  Then again, they were neither snuggling nor watching movies right now.

  He picked up her wig and handed it to her.

  Her heart gave a strange lurch as she took it from him. His message could hardly be clearer.

  It didn’t matter. It was only a small thing. So what if he wasn’t ready for anyone to know they were seeing each other?

  They were seeing each other, right? They were living together.

  She fixed the wig and watched Cooper’s reflection in the mirror as he buttoned his shirt. The truth jabbed through her, but she tried to ignore it.

  We’re not living together at all. He’d only invited her to stay for a few days. Her plans of asking him tonight if he wanted to get serious faded.

  Best wait a couple more days. She didn’t want to scare him off. She might not be an expert when it came to relationships, but compared to him she was a pro.

  There was no rush. She could take this nice and slow.

  By the time they arrived at Murphy’s, an Irish pub that apparently served great food, she’d almost managed to convince herself this was the way she’d wanted the night to go.

  Almost.

  “The restaurant’s separate from the main bar,” Cooper said as he took the helmet from her. At least she didn’t have to worry about helmet hair. The wig would still look good if she’d ridden through the apocalypse. “I thought that’d be okay?”

  “It’s fine.” The squishy warm feeling came back and she slid her fingers through his. “Thanks.”

  He glanced down at her, and his dimple nearly made her knees give way. “You’re welcome.” There was a strange note in his voice, something she’d never heard before—as though he hadn’t expected her to appreciate his forethought, and the fact she had kind of touched him.

  She gave a silent sigh as they went inside. She had it bad. Now she was trying to fool herself that she knew what was going on inside that head of his.

  The restaurant had a rustic feel, with semicircular leather sofas around the tables and long mirrors on the walls emblazoned with Guinness.

  “It’s nice here,” she said as they took a corner booth.

  “Me and my brothers come here sometimes. To get in touch with our Irish roots.” He slung her a mocking smile.

  “Oh, right.” She grinned back. “If I go back far enough I have both Irish and Scottish roots. Beat that.”

  “Won’t catch me wearing a skirt.”

  “You’d look awesome in a kilt. You have the knees for it.” To prove her point she gave his knee a squeeze.

  He laughed and the tension drained from him. Why had he been so tense? Maybe he’d had a bad day at work. Except he’d been fine when he arrived home. It was only after that phone call that he’d gone all weird.

  She wanted to ask him about it, but she didn’t want to spoil the mood. So she decided not to tell him about the conversation she’d had with her mom, either.

  There was plenty of time for real life to intrude, once she’d made her career plans public.

  A couple of hours later, as Paris washed her hands in the restroom, she was smiling to herself again. It happened every time she thought about Cooper, and since that happened a lot, it was a wonder her whole face didn’t ache.

  He was just so effortlessly considerate. He’d drunk nothing but soda all night, and when she’d called him on it he’d given her a look that melted her panties and told her he didn’t need a beer when he had her.

  An hour later she was still glowing.

  She eyed herself in the black and gilt framed mirror. Tonight she was going to dump this wig, and tomorrow night she was taking him out to the hottest club she could find so she could show him off.

  The pub had become crowded since they’d arrived, and she weaved her way through the bodies in the bar. The restaurant was adjacent to the bar, and as she approached the open door she caught sight of Cooper looming over some guy.

  She frowned and craned her neck, trying to see what he was doing. Then the other guy turned and slunk off, and she got a good look at his
face.

  It was the guy who’d chased her and Cooper on the bike.

  Hadn’t taken him long to track her down. She wasn’t going to let it spoil the rest of the night. Another few months and she’d be able to go out anywhere she liked, without being hunted. No one would care if she went shopping in a sloppy tee shirt, or to a bar with a hot, unknown guy.

  She couldn’t wait.

  “All right?” She touched Cooper’s shoulder and he swung around. He looked pissed off until he focused on her, and then he let out a long breath.

  “Yeah, sure. You want to go?”

  That was odd. She nodded in the direction the paparazzo had disappeared to. “Was that the guy we saw the other day?”

  Cooper clenched his jaw as though he wished she hadn’t noticed that exchange. “He won’t be bothering you again.”

  No, he probably wouldn’t. Not once she started college and nobody wanted exclusive undercover shots of her anymore. She took Cooper’s hand and squeezed his fingers.

  “I’m sorry. I guess I should’ve worn my cap and shades as well, huh?” She was joking. There was no way she wished she’d worn her usual disguise, but he gave her a strange look, as though he thought she meant it.

  But all he said was, “Let’s get out of here.”

  Cooper had already left by the time Paris woke in the morning. She patted his side of the bed. It was stone cold, and she frowned. Why hadn’t he woken her up? Come to think of it, they hadn’t enjoyed some pre-dawn sex either, and that was a first.

  She pushed her hair out of her eyes and sat up. It was only seven. He probably thought he was being considerate by letting her sleep in. So why did she have an uneasy flutter in the pit of her stomach?

  The feeling didn’t leave even after she’d taken her first caffeine shot of the day. Seriously, she had to get over it. Last week had turned into nothing less than a vacation, but now they were back in Cooper’s world, and he couldn’t stay in bed half the morning just because she was used to having him there.

  It was almost ten before she curled up on the sofa with her cell and clicked to the online tabloids. If there was a photo of her from last night circulating she’d rather know what they were saying about Cooper so she could warn him.

  Then she shook her head and took a sip of coffee. He wouldn’t care what they said about him. She guessed she just wanted to know for herself.

  Sure enough there she was in the black wig, laughing at something Cooper had said to her. He looked gorgeous. She spent a few moments practically drooling over his picture, even though she had the real thing, which she could drool over any time she liked.

  She was smiling again in a completely besotted way. Since he wasn’t around to catch her, she didn’t bother wiping it off her face. Instead, she dragged her gaze from Cooper’s sexy as hell photo and caught sight of the heading.

  Paris O’Connell’s Romantic Tryst with Hot New Bodyguard

  Her smile screwed into a frown. How did they know he had been hired as her bodyguard? It pissed her off. She didn’t look on him as her bodyguard and never had.

  Unable to stop herself she skimmed the first couple of sentences. It was all very generic and blah. Her frown slowly cleared. Maybe the whole bodyguard thing wasn’t such a surprise, considering how he had swept her away when they were in the mountains, and how he’d towered over the other guy in the bar. It was a natural leap to make.

  Paris looked radiant as she canoodled with her hot new bodyguard in the downtown L.A. bar, Murphy’s. Despite her trademark black wig, there was no disguising the star of Sunset Heights who enjoyed feeding her smitten companion from her own plate…

  Ugh. Paris shuddered. She hated to think how Cooper would take being called smitten—and she’d offered him one taste of her calamari because he’d never tried it before.

  But some bastard had managed to capture the moment on camera.

  Scowling she read on. Disbelief spiked through her. What the hell? Disjointed words leaped out at her and she gripped her cell with suddenly sweaty hands.

  …since leaving rehab at the age of sixteen…turned her life around…a source close to Paris reveals “no need to keep it a secret any longer”.

  She’d never told anyone about going to rehab. No one except Cooper.

  He would never betray me like that. She didn’t even have to think about it. He had nothing to gain by doing it.

  But despite herself, the words danced in front of her eyes. “…a source close to Paris reveals ‘no need to keep it a secret any longer’.”

  That didn’t necessarily point to the source being Cooper. Even if he didn’t think it was something she needed to hide. Even if nobody besides him had ever said that to her before.

  Her stomach churned, and she felt sick. She’d trusted him. I still trust him.

  A persistent little voice in the back of her head reminded her that she’d trusted people before.

  They’d all stabbed her in the back. The friends she thought she had when she was a teen, and then Hudson.

  She remembered how shifty he had been when she caught him on his cell last night. In fact, he’d acted strangely for the rest of the night. Who had he been talking to?

  She brutally shoved the thought aside. Cooper’s not like any of them. He must’ve said something to the paparazzo in the heat of the moment, that’s all. He didn’t know what they were like. How they’d twist your words and fill in the gaps.

  And then plaster it all over the internet.

  She picked up her cell, itching to call him right now and sort it out. But as she stared at his ID she couldn’t bring herself to do it. Suppose she was wrong? Suppose he really had sold her out?

  She dropped her cell back onto the sofa. She’d wait until she heard from him. She just knew there was a simple explanation for everything.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Cooper leaned against the door of the gleaming limo and pulled out his cell. He’d picked up his client, Dale, at five that morning from LAX and had spent the last few hours cruising while Dale conducted business meetings in the back. He and Alex had been friends since they were kids, and Cooper had always got on well with him.

  It was partly why he’d been so tempted a couple of months ago when Dale had offered him a job on the East Coast. He’d spent all his life in California, and working with Alex was the only legit job he’d ever had.

  Not that he’d ever leave Grayson’s. He’d never leave Alex in the lurch like that.

  Ten minutes ago he’d dropped Dale off at the Bel-Air and was now checking his messages. Ella had left a text with a link to an online magazine.

  Check this out. E. xo

  It took him to a gossip page about Paris. Fuck. He’d told that little shit last night to back off. He hoped Paris wasn’t too upset she’d been caught with him. It was obvious from the way she’d not thought twice about wearing that damn wig that she wasn’t ready to go public.

  Because of that, combined with the call from Alex, he hadn’t ended up asking her to move in with him. How could he? Right now she was happy staying with him. If he pushed for more she might back the fuck off completely.

  He wasn’t ready to risk losing whatever they had together.

  He skimmed over the piece. Where the hell did they get this shit? And then his gaze snagged on a paragraph under the first photo.

  Paris, who’s enjoying a short sabbatical before she returns to her hectic filming schedule, is on the shortlist to play Piper Rhodes, the good girl turned bad from Milo Mallory’s bestselling novel Payback…

  Although, it looks like she can’t keep her hands off her gorgeous bodyguards! She’s clearly over the ill-fated liaison that had her running back to her old neighborhood.

  Paris looked radiant…

  He shoved his cell back into his pocket. He knew better than to believe everything he read. They’d even got it wrong about her collapsing on set being the original reason why she left Hollywood so suddenly.

  But that bodyguard comment gnawed
in the back of his mind. She had never explained the real reason why she’d turned up at her cabin without even telling her mom where she was.

  From the depths of his memory, Scott’s voice echoed. “Can’t be any worse than the last jerk she had.”

  And then her, giving a delicate shudder as she said, “He had no sense of boundaries.”

  What did she mean by that? Had her last bodyguard come onto her? Had she fallen for him?

  A sharp burning sensation speared through his chest—just like it did when she talked about her dipshit ex, Hudson.

  Christ. He was jealous. It was like a punch to the gut, and for a crazy few seconds he battled the insane urge to smash his fist into the side of the limo.

  He’d never cared about that kind of thing before, but the thought of some asshole taking advantage of Paris when he was supposed to be looking out for her made him mad as hell.

  Was she in love with her previous bodyguard?

  Had she fallen into his bed because she was on the rebound?

  He wanted her. He’d already faced that, but he sure as hell didn’t want to be a substitute in her bed for some other guy.

  How the hell am I supposed to ask her about that? He could just show her the article. Wait and see what she said about it.

  Except he had to wait another five hours before he could leave work.

  Great.

  Cooper took a deep breath before he opened his front door. Paris wasn’t there to greet him like she had been yesterday. Before he’d taken a couple of steps inside he caught sight of his small dining area.

  He stopped dead. The table was set for two, with three tall white candlesticks and shiny cutlery that looked nothing like the odd assortment he usually used for eating. White and lemon flowers with long petals were woven around the candlestick bases and draped off the ends of the table. The square white plates weren’t his, either.

  “Finally.” Paris appeared from the direction of the kitchen. She was wearing a sexy green dress that showed off her gorgeous body, her hair was loose and feet bare. “Any later and all this food would be ruined.”

  His resolve to ask her about her previous bodyguard wavered. Why spoil the night she’d planned? She’d told him about Hudson and said there’d been no one since. He believed her.