Throb

“Kate?” he repeats, concern in his voice.

“Cooper. I … I … you caught me off guard, I didn’t expect to see you here.”

“I didn’t expect to see you either.” He smiles. “But I’m glad I did.” Amusement dances in his eyes, obvious male satisfaction at my being flustered.

Breaking eye contact to collect my wits, I take in the full sight of him. Broad, thick shoulders, the way his shirt tucks into his pants, hanging so perfectly from his narrow waist. Scanning the length of him down, I flush more than when I was caught in his gaze.

He raises one eyebrow playfully, having watched my slow assaulting inspection of him. A lopsided grin graces his face as he speaks, “Let’s grab a cup of coffee.”

“Coffee?” I mimic, still unable to comprehend even the simplest of conversations. What the hell is wrong with me?

“Yes. Do you drink coffee? If not, I’ll buy you tea. Or water. You do drink water, right?” he teases.

“She drinks coffee,” Sadie interjects from behind me. I’d completely forgotten there was anyone else in the hall. Anyone else in the universe, in fact, at this moment.

Cooper smiles, addressing Sadie, instead of me. “Good to know. How does she drink her coffee?”

“Cream, no sugar.”

He nods, smiling. Something unspoken passes between the two of them.

Thankfully, Sadie snaps me out of my haze. “I have to run, Kate. Do you want me to pick you up?”

“No, I’m good. I’ll get a ride.”

“You sure?”

Cooper responds, “I’ll drive her.”

“You don’t even know where I’m going,” I say.

“It doesn’t matter.”

“Bye, Ms. Biel-Timberlake.” Sadie saunters off, a shit-eating grin on her face.

“So … coffee?” he asks, already guiding me with his hand on the small of my back.

“Sure.” I’m early and a cup of coffee isn’t a date, I justify in my head.

We only make it a few steps down the hall together before Cooper’s cell phone rings. He mutters something I can’t make out before he excuses himself to answer. “What?”

I’d hate to be on the receiving end of that phone call.

“No. You can’t offer that. Every union will be breathing down our neck if you do. That’s not negotiating, that’s throwing in the towel.” He pauses, listens for a minute and then growls, “Christ, Evan. I’ll be right there. No. Don’t let them walk out the door. Tell them to wait.”

“I’m sorry. I have to run. What time are you leaving?”

“Five?” I guesstimate, since I actually have no idea how long a reality TV planning session will take. Foolishly, I used to think reality TV was about reality.

“I’ll pick you up here.”

“Thanks. But you don’t have to. I can get a ride.”

Stepping in my path, he turns to face me, halting my stride. Eyes lock on my mouth for a long moment, then his lips curl as he meets my gaze. “I’m taking you,” he says in a raspy voice. “It’s probably the one thing that is going to keep me sane today. Thinking about seeing you again later.”

How can I argue with that logic?

Sitting around a long conference table, two rows deep, the “talent” in the front, crew in the back, I listen as Miles Montgomery spends hours detailing his vision. He lays out who we are. Who we are. I guess I should be happy he’s dubbed me “the girl next door,” especially since the room apparently contains one “town slut” and another “drunk gossip.” He actually gives us these titles, as if he’s the king at the coronation and we’re his subservient minions. I wasn’t a big fan the first day I met Miles Montgomery, even less of one after today.

I find myself daydreaming for a good portion of the meeting, my mind continually wandering back to one person, Cooper. He was even more striking than I remembered; his captivating green eyes were difficult to tear mine away from. And the way he spoke today, the command he held, heightened how sexy he is to a whole new level.

As if reading my mind, Miles throws a file onto the table. “This, ladies and gentlemen, is a copy of your contract. Putting aside the legal ease, this is what it boils down to. He motions to his assistant and she flicks off the lights. A screen projects up on one side of the room. The first few bullet points fill a page. Miles reads them aloud.

“You are a character in a loosely scripted play. You are not free to choose to play a new one.

Forget the cameras are there. Don’t whisper; we need to capture that secret you’re telling.

Discussing anything that has not been aired with anyone outside of the show is a violation of your contract.

Cameras and cell phones are prohibited. You are to have no outside contact of any kind during the hours you’re filming.

Dating or sexual relationships, of any kind, other than with the bachelor or a fellow contestant, are prohibited until the last episode has aired.

Violation of any of the terms of the contract will result in forfeiture of any prizes. And you can, and will, be sued for breach of contract.”

He smiles as if he’s enjoying himself. Something about the guy just makes me want to shower after spending time in a room with him.

I’m outside talking to Ava when Cooper pulls up in a classic convertible Porsche. Her eyes go wide when he hops out of his car and heads over to me as if he’s on a mission.