There was no way for him to talk his way out of it, not this time.
Cooper
Music played softly as I stretched out on my leather recliner in my favorite room in the entire world, reading Watchmen for the ten thousandth time.
Some rich guys had a red room of pain. I had a black room of nerd.
Shelves lined one wall completely, lit to display collector action figures, graphic novels, comics. The other three walls were covered in framed artwork with gallery lights — Gambit and Rogue’s first kiss signed by Stan Lee, the original Batman movie poster signed by Tim Burton and Michael Keaton. Art made from my favorite comic frames, one floor to ceiling piece from V for Vendetta with a note from Alan Moore along the bottom.
And in the corner, in a standing case, was my very own custom-made Batman suit.
Seriously, don’t look at me like that.
My defense is this: I really, really wanted to go to ComicCon. My addiction is my dirty secret. No one knows, and I don’t want them to. If I went to ComicCon as Cooper Moore, everyone would find out. But if I went as Batman, my secret would be safe, even if a hundred people took pictures with me that day.
I smiled to myself. It was maybe the most epic day of my life.
My doorbell rang, and my brow dropped when I looked at my watch. It was six, and I wondered who it could be as I hauled myself out of my chair and made my way to the door. There were only a handful of people on the list of visitors who could come up unannounced, and I hoped I knew which one it was.
I opened the door to find a very angry, very adorable Maggie in my entryway.
“When were you planning on telling me that your mother runs Project Homestead?”
I had good reason for keeping it from her, and I opened my mouth to defend myself. “Mags, I—”
“Don’t you Mags me, Cooper. You told her about me. Did you call Susan? Did you get me that job? I don’t need your goddamn help. I’m a grown-ass woman with the ability to get a job I want without your help.” She poked me in the shoulder.
“Maggie—”
“I’m not finished!”
I smirked and leaned on the doorframe, folding my arms, waiting for her to get it out of her system.
Her eyes narrowed even more. “Don’t you gimme that smile, you son of a bitch. I’m sure you pull strings all the time to get what you want, but that’s not how I do things. You had no right to interfere.”
“I didn’t.”
Her lips twisted in a scowl. “Don’t lie to me, Cooper. Your mother told me you spoke to her about me.”
“I did, but not about your application.”
She tilted her head, confused. “But she said …”
I watched her. “Did she say I had anything to do with it?”
Her brow dropped. “Well, no, not exactly … but you knew I was applying there. Why didn’t you tell me your mother was a benefactor?”
“Because I knew that was the job you wanted, and I wanted you to apply. I had a feeling you wouldn’t if you knew I was connected. Looks like I was right.” I gave her a smile as her face softened.
“You really didn’t say anything?” Her eyes were wide, her voice apologetic.
“I really didn’t.”
“God, Cooper. I just … when I saw her … and she said … and I just thought …” Her shoulders slumped as she let out a breath and turned. “I’m sorry. I should go.”
I reached for her wrist, chuckling as I pulled her into me. “No, you shouldn’t.”
Her cheek pressed against my chest. “The way she said it just sounded like you had something to do with it. I didn’t even ask you, just came here and started yellin’. I’d just been thinking about it all day and had myself convinced. I’m an ass.”
“Maybe a little.” I laughed.
She groaned. “Aren’t you mad at me?”
“Of course not — I might have made the same assumption. But if you really feel inclined to make it up to me, I can think of a few things you could do.”
She smiled and looked up at me. “Oh, I’m sure you could. I’m sorry, Cooper.”
“Quit apologizing.” I kissed her cheek. “As long as you believe me, we’re fine.”
“I believe you.”
“Then we’re fine.” I brushed her hair back from her face. “You hungry? I was just about to make dinner.”
She raised an eyebrow. “As in, cook?”
“That surprises you?”
“I just figured your kitchen was for show.”
“You can only order takeout so many times before you’re over it, and I’m not busy enough to warrant having someone to cook every night for me.”
“No, but you’re rich enough to.”
I chuckled. “Come on. Let me introduce you to another on one of my many talents.” I dragged her inside and into the kitchen where she sat at my island bar. I fired up the stovetop grill built into my gourmet kitchen.
“Is that a real grill? Inside?”
I smiled at her over my shoulder. “Sure is.”
“That is swanky.”
“See? I can’t have this kitchen and not use it.”
“Oh, don’t get me wrong. I was sure it was being used, just not by you.”
I pulled out chicken I’d been marinating from the fridge and set it on the counter. “Think you’ve got me all figured out, do you?”
“No, actually. Just when I think I do, you surprise me.”
I smiled and grabbed the chicken breasts with tongs, setting them on the grates with a hiss. “To be fair, I don’t clean. I don’t grocery shop, either.”
She laughed. “Oh, God. I can just see you walking through the produce, sniffing cantaloupe.”
“I am very picky about my melons.”
She snickered. “Do you need any help?”
“Just with this.” I grabbed a bottle of wine and gave it a little shake.
“All right. I’ll do my best,” she joked.
I opened it and poured her a glass. “Let’s play a game.”
“What kind of game.”
“Truth or dare.” I smiled and handed her the wine.
“Maybe we should wait until after dinner.”
I poured myself a glass. “Oh, I’ve got plans for dessert already.”
She smiled and took a sip. “So, who goes first?”
I smirked and took a drink. “Truth or dare?”
“I feel like I owe you a dare after yelling at you.”
“I was hoping you’d say that.”
“Shit,” she muttered.
“I dare you to wear nothing but this apron for the rest of dinner.” I opened a drawer, grabbed an apron, and tossed it to her.
She picked it up curiously, laughing when she opened it up. “Really, Coop?”
I just smiled.
She stood and held it up to her body. It was a replica of Botticelli’s Venus, made to look like the wearer was the goddess of love herself, fingers on her bare breast. “Where the hell did you get this?” she asked with a laugh.
I leaned against the counter and crossed my arms. “Florence. I have David, too.”
“Of course you do.” She sighed. “Well, a dare’s a dare.” She set the apron on the counter and smiled at me as she kicked off her shoes. I leaned against the counter, folding my arms across my chest as I watched her strip. The apron hit her mid-thigh, and she tied it around her waist, blushing. “There you go.”
“Give us a spin.”
She spun around, and I caught a glimpse of her pert ass. “Happy?”
“You have no idea.”
Maggie took a seat and picked up her wine again. “My turn. Truth or dare?”
“Truth.”
“Boring. Okay, um …” She looked up at the ceiling. “Most outrageous place you’ve ever had sex.”
I didn’t miss a beat. “Confessional booth in Barcelona.”
Her jaw hung open, and a surprised laugh slipped out of her.
“Her name was Vivica. It was also the only time I’ve been propositioned in a church. I doubt it was the first time she’d made the offer, but I couldn’t pass it up.”