Jada stopped eating. “They’re victims of this horrible sex abuse, and it’s so not right for them to get arrested. We’re going to write letters to Congress.”
“Good for you,” Piper said.
Karah squeezed her daughter’s hand. “I’ll write a letter, too.”
After dinner, Piper changed for work. She dreaded going back to Spiral, dreaded anything that would put her near Coop and closer to getting permanently fired. As she deserved . . .
The house was packed. Coop and Tony had pulled out all the stops to overcome the bad publicity from the cockroach invasion—specials on top-shelf drinks and lots of celebrities scheduled to show up all week: football players, actors, and a beautiful country singer.
Jonah greeted Piper with a grunt and a rough slap on the back, his simian version of an olive branch. She gave him an elbow to the gut but was glad she didn’t put any force behind it because at least one of the bouncers stayed close to Coop all evening, something Coop didn’t look pleased about.
Deidre Joss showed up again, this time alone. She and Coop disappeared. When half an hour passed and he hadn’t returned, Piper started to worry.
She checked the alley first. New security cameras had been installed as she’d recommended, and Coop’s Tesla sat there unharmed. He must be in his office. But what if Deidre were still with him? Piper couldn’t imagine anything worse than walking in on the two of them doing whatever they might be doing, and she knocked loudly on the door. When it swung open, Coop looked irritated. “You need something?”
“Security check. I wanted to make sure no one was in here who shouldn’t be.”
“Is that Piper?” Deidre said from inside the room.
Coop opened the door wider. Behind him, Piper could see Deidre standing near the couch, her hair a perfect waterfall, her dancer’s carriage upright, her stilettos arranged in third position. She even wore a softly draped ballerina-pink dress.
Deidre was exactly the kind of high-achieving woman Coop was most attracted to, and it wasn’t hard to imagine the two of them married. In between board meetings, Deidre would bear him three beautiful children, and on weekends, she’d prepare gourmet meals. Piper wondered if Coop would someday look back on his fling with her and wonder how he could have been so crazy.
“I’ve been looking for a chance to talk to you,” Deidre said. “Come in.”
Piper reluctantly did as she was told.
“According to Noah, I owe you an apology,” Deidre said. “He told me in no uncertain terms that I made life difficult for you by not letting you tell Cooper I was the one who’d hired you.”
His name is Coop, Piper thought, even as she plastered on a smile. “No harm done.”
“Other than my threatening to sue her,” Coop said.
“Oh, no! You didn’t.” Deidre looked horrified. “I am sorry, Piper. I didn’t know that.”
She was so damned nice. And smart. And successful.
Piper hated her.
Deidre directed her attention back to Coop. “I have to be up early, so I need to get home. Good talk.” She extended her arm to shake his hand, when what she really wanted to do was give him a long, deep good-bye kiss. Or maybe Piper was projecting. One thing she did know: Coop genuinely liked Deidre. And why wouldn’t he?
“See that Deidre gets to her car safely, will you, Piper?” He squeezed Deidre’s hand. “Apologies, Deidre, but I have to get back on the floor.”
Deidre smiled. “One of the things I most admire about you.”
Along with his abs, his smile, that incredible mouth . . . Which I’ve sampled, and you haven’t.
Piper’s self-disgust hit a new high . . . or low, depending on how she looked at it.
She escorted Deidre from the club to the lot across the street where she’d left her BMW. “You really didn’t need to walk me to my car,” Deidre said.
“It’s nice to get some fresh air.”
“Did you know that Noah’s become a big fan of yours?”
“Really?”
Deidre stopped and smiled. “You’re the first woman he’s shown any interest in since his divorce.”
Piper made a noncommittal murmur.
“Girlfriend to girlfriend . . . He’s solid. Ambitious. I don’t know what I’d have done without him after Sam’s death. He can be a little intense, I’ll give you that, but maybe you should let him take you out to dinner and you can see if you hit it off.”
“I don’t really have any time to date now.”
She tilted her head. “Because of Cooper? I heard a rumor that the two of you have more than a professional relationship.”
Piper hadn’t seen this coming. “Fascinating what people will say.”
“Is it true?”
“You don’t believe in subtlety, do you?”
“Not since I lost my husband. Hell of a way to learn how short life can be.” She shifted her clutch to her other hand and waited, regarding Piper in an open, patient manner. “Well?”
Piper began walking toward the BMW. “I think you probably know by now that I never comment on my clients.”
“I respect that.” The locks on her car clicked. She opened the driver’s door, then turned back to Piper. “But if it is true . . . I like him a lot, and I’m going to give you a run for your money.” She didn’t say it in a bitchy way, more as a straight-up point of information. “And if it’s not true, tell him I’m low maintenance and fabulous.”
Piper laughed. Whether from surprise or amusement, she didn’t know. What she did know was that Deidre Joss was a force of nature.
Deidre pulled out of the parking lot. Piper crossed the street back to the club, barely avoiding a Lexus whose driver thought he owned the right-of-way. It felt good to have a target for her frustration, and she flipped him the bird.
***
The next night was a Friday, and the club was even busier. She helped Ernie toss out some men who were making themselves obnoxious, ordered the servers to cut off a couple of overzealous dancers, and broke up a fight heading for the alley. She was proving to be an excellent bouncer. If only she were as good an investigator.
By the time she entered her apartment, she was dead on her feet. She peeled off her dress, tugged on her Bears T-shirt, and brushed her teeth. As she came out of the bathroom, she heard her door open. She peeked into the living room.
Coop had makeup smears on his sweater sleeve and lipstick on the side of his neck. He looked tired, disheveled, and irritable. “I’m too tired to drive home.”
He’d been everywhere tonight, and she knew how tired he was, but she hardened her heart. “You can’t stay here.”
“Sure I can. It’s my apartment.”
He began emptying his pockets on the counter between the kitchen and living room, and she was temporarily distracted by what emerged: his cell, key fob, and a tampon wrapper with something written on it, probably a phone number.
Somebody had spilled a drink on him, and he smelled like liquor. “Coop, I’m serious. We’re . . . over.” She faltered on the word, but it had to be said. Their relationship was a train wreck. “Lovers need to be on equal footing, and we’re not.”
He took in her sleepwear. “Do you ever wash that T-shirt?”
“Frequently. I have more than one.”
“Of course you do.” He jerked his sweater over his head, filling the room with the scent of a dozen different perfumes. She spotted another lipstick mark on the opposite side of his neck. It was hard being Cooper Graham.
He would have already fired her if Karah hadn’t been run off the road. He probably still would. “Did you hear me?”
“I’m taking a shower, then I’m going to bed.” He headed for the bathroom. “Try your best not to jump me.”
18
Piper settled into bed, turned out the light, and tucked the sheet around her. Her life was a mess. She was sleeping with her boss, or maybe her ex-boss, who might or might not also be her ex-lover, but then why was he here, and why was she letti
ng him decide this anyway? She was too miserable about her life to have a good answer to anything. She had no financial security. She was virtually homeless. And, in the only case she had that mattered, she was proving to be a shitty investigator.
The shower stopped running, the door squeaked open, and the mattress sagged. She moved as far away from him as she could, but he made no attempt to touch her. She was both offended and comforted.
She awoke in the middle of a blazingly erotic dream to find him inside her. She was wet and yielding, her body thrumming. His weight pressed down heavy, as if he were still half-asleep, both of them more animal than human. By the end, they were awake, not speaking, moving apart and finally falling back to sleep in the mess of what had happened.
***
When Coop awakened the next morning, he was alone and hungover. He dragged his arm across his eyes. For the first time since the club had opened, he’d gotten drunk. It had started a few hours before closing when he’d had a couple of drinks, then a couple more, a few more after that, until he didn’t trust himself to drive home. He’d never been a big drinker, preferring pot in his younger days and, as he’d gotten older, happy with a couple of beers. But last night, as he’d watched Piper moving around the club, things had gotten away from him.
She was everywhere at once—keeping an eye on the guests, the servers, and on him. She’d gotten her way with the bouncers, and one of them was always nearby. It was easier not having to watch his back, but he objected to the principle. Just because he was no longer in the game didn’t mean he couldn’t watch out for himself. He’d growled at Jonah to call off his boys, but the son of a bitch was more afraid of her than of him, and nothing changed.
He wished he could kick her out of this apartment. He needed the place for nights like this. He needed his life back, the way it had been before she’d barged into it.
Something twisted in his gut, the thing he didn’t want to look at. The thing that every day kept pushing closer to the surface. And for no reason. He had everything he wanted. Money. Reputation. He felt physically better than he had in years. As for Spiral . . . The club had been at capacity since they’d reopened three nights ago. And best of all, Deidre had invited him to her farm next Monday. The playful way she’d delivered the invitation suggested his waiting was about to be over. Everything was going his way.
And yet . . . He wasn’t happy.
It was because of Piper.
She had a dream—the same way he did. A single-minded focus that got her out of bed every morning and drove her through the day. A passion. So why did he feel as if his life had become a cloudy reflection in the mirror of hers?
She appeared in the doorway wearing jeans and a snarl. Her hair was still damp, so she must have showered, although he hadn’t heard her. She stood there looking at him. “I can’t do this anymore, Coop.”
He pushed himself up from the pillows. “Could you let me wake up first?”
“I don’t sleep with men who don’t respect me.”
That infuriated him. “Who says I don’t respect you?”
“How could you after the way I screwed up?”
“You sure as hell did.” He jumped naked out of bed and stormed into the bathroom, where he threw himself into the shower again. He hated being backed into a corner, and that’s what she was doing.
He hadn’t been able to fire her because he trusted her—not with his ring, that was for sure—but with his life. Somehow, she’d become the juice that made things worthwhile. Maybe that explained why he was so unhappy.
All his clean clothes were in his office, and he came out in a towel. She, of course, was waiting for him.
“I apologize,” she said.
“You should. Sometimes I think you live to give me a hard time.”
“I’m not apologizing for that. I’m apologizing for trying to have a straightforward conversation with you before you’ve had your coffee.” She held out a steaming mug.
As he took it from her, he realized she was staring at something. Him. It was his chest again. She was a sucker for his chest. And he was only wearing a towel. He took a long swig from the mug and let her look.
She dragged her eyes back to his face. “I don’t understand why you haven’t fired me, and I don’t like feeling that maybe you’re keeping me on because I’m putting out.”
She might as well have slapped him. “That’s bullshit! What kind of scum do you think I am?”
“I don’t think you’re scum at all.”
“Then why would you say something like that?”
“Because I can’t think of any other reason.”
“How about this? You’re the best bouncer I have.”
Even as the words came out, he knew it was the wrong thing to say. She stared at him with the saddest face he’d ever seen, then she turned and walked away.
He stopped her as she snatched up her messenger bag to leave. “You are, Piper. But that’s not why I didn’t fire you.” Hot coffee splashed on the back of his hand and he sucked it off. “I meant to fire you,” he said, setting down his mug. “You made a big mistake, and I’ve been pissed. But the thing is . . . You’re the underdog who’s willing to work twice as hard as anybody else. And those have always been the kinds of players I like best on my team.”
Until that moment, he hadn’t been able to articulate it, even to himself, but now that he’d said it, he felt better.
She looked a little starry-eyed, which he liked, and then troubled, which he didn’t like. “I appreciate that,” she said. “But the brutal fact is that I’m no closer to getting to the bottom of this than I was when you hired me. And I have no idea what to do next.”
“You’ll figure it out.”
“How can you say that?”
“Because that’s what you do.”
***
Coop’s faith put a knot in her throat the size of a football. She carried it with her all weekend. She couldn’t fail him. She couldn’t. But then she wondered if her determination to prove herself to Coop was all that different from her never-ending battle to win Duke’s approval. No, it was different. Duke’s misguided fear for her safety had kept him from giving her the opportunity she’d craved—the opportunity he’d raised her to take on. Unlike her father, Coop had given her the chance Duke had withheld, and she couldn’t disappoint him.
Monday morning found her in the main office building at the Stars Complex Headquarters in DuPage County. The team logo of three interlocking gold stars in a sky-blue circle was etched into the glass wall of the PR office—the wall that overlooked the building’s main lobby where lighted niches protected by bulletproof glass displayed the team’s major trophies and where visitors signed in at an impressive, crescent-shaped ivory granite reception desk.
With the football season in full swing, the PR office was humming with activity—phones ringing, computer screens glowing, people hurrying in and out. Coop had finally cleared the way for her to go through the mail that had accumulated for him, and a young publicist with cat’s-eye makeup and an earnest manner showed her to the room’s only empty desk and explained the procedure.
“We take care of most of Coop’s fan mail. We mail out autograph cards, his FAQ, and we have a special package for kids who write him. We work with his agent on appearance requests. Even though he’s retired, he still gets a lot of mail.”
“Any of it hostile?”
“Not much. He got some his first season with the Stars after a couple of bad games. ‘Go back to Miami.’ That kind of thing. The fans didn’t know he was playing with a broken finger.”
“What about women?”
“Thongs, nude photos. We’ve pretty much seen it all. And I do mean all.” She gestured toward the desk. “Go ahead. Take your time and let me know if you need anything else.”
“Thanks.”
Piper settled behind the pile of paper—both snail mail and e-mail printouts. The majority were requests for autographs and photos. Some of it was really sweet. Kids
who idolized him. Fans who’d followed his career from the very beginning. One was from a man who’d lost his son in a car accident and found relief from his grief in remembering how his son had idolized Coop. Piper pulled that one out as something she thought Coop should personally respond to. There were also a number of notes from parents of athletically talented offspring looking for advice.
And the women. Photos accompanied letters that listed the sender’s credentials to be Coop’s next girlfriend: an athletic nature, a modeling career, a college degree in sports management, a super-special expertise in fellatio.
As Piper pondered that, she became aware of a subtle shift in the atmosphere of the room. She looked up.
In the doorway stood Phoebe Somerville Calebow, the owner of the Chicago Stars, the wife of the former head coach and current Stars president Dan Calebow, the mother of four, and the single most powerful woman in the NFL, if not the universe.
Piper jumped to her feet as the Stars owner approached the very desk where Piper was sitting. “Mrs. . . . uh . . . Mrs. Calebow.”
Phoebe Somerville Calebow took her in. “So you’re Coop’s detective.”
The fact that Phoebe Calebow knew of her existence was so dumbfoundingly dumbfounding that Piper couldn’t muster anything more than a shaky nod.
“My quarterbacks do tend to get involved with unusual women,” she said.
Those involvements had been well publicized, and like everyone else in Chicago, Piper knew the history. Cal Bonner had married a world-renowned physicist. Kevin Tucker was married to a prize-winning children’s book author. An eccentric artist had made an unlikely match with Dean Robillard. And it wasn’t only the quarterbacks. The team’s legendary wide receiver, Bobby Tom Denton, was married to the current mayor of Telarosa, Texas.
Mrs. Calebow gestured Piper back into her chair, then perched on the side of the desk. Middle age hadn’t diminished her curvy, blond beauty, and not even her tortoiseshell smart-girl glasses could dilute her aura of ripe sexuality. “So what are your intentions toward my guy?”