She folded her arms across her chest. “And sharing what you learned. I don’t recall your mentioning that I was right about the Lancaster family or that they were the ones who owned the jewels. Especially not before you slept with me!”
He clenched his jaw. “Because I wanted to find out more first. I was hoping I’d discover something that exonerated your grandfather so that by the time you found out there’d be nothing for you to worry about.” Surely she’d understand his looking out for her.
Her scowl told him otherwise. “I don’t need you babying me. I can handle whatever you find as soon as you find it.”
“Stubborn woman.” He shook his head and leaned back against the headboard. “Fine. Next time I find out something I’ll tell you. Are you satisfied?”
She raised an eyebrow. “Are you kidding? We haven’t even gotten to the part about how you’re planning to write this story!”
Coop pinched the bridge of his nose. “Lexie,” he said, holding on to his patience. “I’m a reporter. What did you think I’d do with an unsolved crime mystery?”
“I sure as heck didn’t think you’d use my family to build your career!” Her voice cracked with emotion, but she clearly refused to show any weakness. Instead, she remained at the edge of the bed, stiff with anger.
A part of him didn’t blame her. This was her family he was talking about and of course she’d be protective. But the rational part of him still wanted to get through to her.
“My reporting career is fine with or without this story,” he felt compelled to remind her.
“But your novelist career isn’t.”
He winced. “Low blow.”
“So is this!” She gestured wildly toward the outer room, but not before he’d seen the flash of guilt in her eyes.
She hadn’t meant the hurled insult, after all. Which was not to say it didn’t sting. “Let’s just get some sleep,” he suggested before either of them said anything else they might later regret.
She turned to face him. “Promise me you won’t write the story if it involves my family.”
He finally had an idea that not only clicked for fiction work, but also might be a huge crime revelation. “I can’t. I need to see this thing through before I make any decisions.”
She glared at him.
“I’m being honest, which is what you want from me, right?”
Lexie sighed. “What I want is for this mess to go away.”
He understood her feelings. “I didn’t create it.”
She merely inclined her head.
“I think we should get some sleep and deal with things in the morning.” He patted the space beside him.
Despite his clear invitation, he expected her to get dressed and go home. To his surprise, she climbed into the free side of the bed, punched the pillows and curled into a ball, facing away from him.
As he shut off the lamp, Coop didn’t know whether to call it progress or not, and decided he’d find out in the morning.
LEXIE WOKE UP long before Coop thought she did. She wasn’t a morning person and no good could come of another argument when she was more likely to act on emotion than fact. As she’d done after reading his personal notes last night.
Of course she’d known he was a reporter and a writer and he’d use whatever he discovered. But that didn’t mean she had to like it or that she wouldn’t do whatever she could to prevent him from doing so. One step at a time, she thought.
The first step was to pull herself together. So when she first opened her eyes and sensed him beside her, she feigned sleep until he rose, showered and walked out of the room. Only then did she stretch and let her body come awake. She showered and dressed again in yesterday’s clothes. Then, praying that Coop had made coffee, she drew a deep breath and headed into the kitchen to face him.
As soon as she stepped out of the bedroom, the smell of breakfast assaulted her senses. A quick glance told her he’d set the table and now stood at the stove flipping an omelet in a pan.
“He cooks as well as makes coffee,” she said, taking in the full pot in the coffeemaker. “How did I get so fortunate?”
“Just lucky, I guess.” Coop eyed her warily, judging her mood. “Have a seat.”
One omelet waited for her at the table and Lexie eased herself into a seat.
He put the next omelet onto a plate, set it down on the table, poured two cups of coffee and joined her. “I’ll take the one that’s been sitting.” Before she could argue, he reached out and exchanged his plate for hers.
“I would have eaten that one.”
“I don’t mind if it’s cooled off some. You eat the hot one,” he said and began to eat.
“Thanks.” Lexie picked up her fork, but couldn’t manage a bite over her queasy stomach. She’d had some awkward morning afters before, but none with a guy she really liked and had shared spectacular sex with.
The prolonged silence sliced through her until she couldn’t stand it another minute. “Sorry I woke you last night.” Her gaze remained on the omelet he’d generously cooked despite her bad behavior.
“What about throwing a pillow at me? Are you sorry for that, too?”
Embarrassed, she raised her gaze only to find him grinning at her.
The knot in her stomach eased. “I guess you don’t hold a grudge?” she asked.
“Takes a lot to royally piss me off,” he said, between mouthfuls. “Your not eating my food might send me over the edge.” He waved his fork, gesturing for her to dig in.
She shrugged and started breakfast, surprised to find the eggs fluffy and delicious. “My God, you’re good.”
“I recall your saying something to that effect last night.” He winked at her, then continued. “Actually, my mom taught me. “She said it wouldn’t kill me to learn to feed myself.”
She caught both the affection and the wistfulness in his tone. “You miss her a lot, don’t you?”
Coop nodded. “My family sort of divided in half in that my father understands my brother’s mind-set a lot better than mine. My mom used to get me.”
“What happened, if you don’t mind me asking?”
“She had a brain aneurysm about five years ago. She died in her sleep. No warning, no nothing.”
Lexie shuddered. She might not have a warm, fuzzy relationship with her own mother, but she did with her grandmother and she couldn’t imagine his pain. “I’m so sorry.”