The Angel and the Outlaw. Ingrid WeaverЧитать онлайн книгу.
kitten, her bare feet drawn up on the seat and her cheek pillowed on the chair arm. Her hair hung over the side in a tangle of curls. In the daylight that poured through the windows, the hollows in her cheeks and the lines of strain around her eyes were more obvious than ever.
Was the woman trying to self-destruct? Didn’t she realize she had to start taking better care of herself? When was the last time she’d had anything to eat or had a full night’s sleep? This was probably the only rest she’d gotten since she’d slept on his office couch.
She looked so defenseless, it was hard to believe that she had taken on Oliver Sproule alone. Saying she was out of her league was an understatement. Yet even though her presence was turning into a complication he didn’t need, Cooper couldn’t help feeling a twinge of admiration for her. She had guts, he’d give her that. Despite his attempts to get rid of her, she didn’t scare off easy.
On the other hand, he hadn’t tried all that hard yet, had he? He had to stop thinking with his libido.
He knelt at the side of the chair and picked up a lock of her hair, letting the curls twine through his fingers. His gaze moved to her mouth. Her lips were parted and completely relaxed. It would be a shame to wake her up. If he had the time, he’d let her sleep her fill the way he had before, but they had to straighten this out. For her own safety, he had to convince her to back off.
Besides, he had too much riding on this to allow anyone, including her, to get in his way. “Hayley?”
A frown line appeared between her eyebrows. She sighed, moistened her lips and snuggled her cheek against the chair arm.
Cooper released her hair and leaned closer. “Hayley, wake up.”
Her lashes fluttered. Her lips moved into the ghost of a smile. “Cooper?”
“Yeah.”
He never saw it coming. Later, he would wonder how different things might have turned out if he had. As it was, any good intentions that might have lurked somewhere inside him were swept away when her hand stole around the back of his neck and she tugged his head to hers.
The kiss she gave him was sweet and sleepy. It was the kiss of a woman who wasn’t completely conscious, who didn’t know what she was doing. It didn’t mean a thing. She was probably dreaming, reacting instinctively, reaching for comfort the same way she would reach for a blanket.
Cooper didn’t give a damn. He tilted his head and gave her a kiss that brought her completely awake.
As soon as she felt Cooper’s tongue slide over her lips, Hayley realized it wasn’t a dream. No dream could be this vivid.
Cooper kissed the same way he moved, with a careless sexuality, as warm as the sunlight that poured through the wall of windows beside her, as supple as the leather of the chair that cradled her, as bold as the hair that curled around her fingers where she held the back of his neck.
Yet beneath the sexuality there was tenderness. She could feel it in the way he coaxed her response instead of demanding it. He tilted his head, testing angles until his lips fit perfectly over hers. The pressure was gentle, a sweet exploration, giving more than he took. This wasn’t the brusque-mannered bar owner who had carried her out of his office, this was the protector who had rescued her from the Sproule estate and had seen her safely home.
And for a crazy instant Hayley wanted to pretend she was still asleep. It was so tempting. It would give her an excuse to let the pleasure last a few moments longer.
But this was a man her brother had put in prison. How could she be kissing him? She knew what she wanted from him, and her own needs weren’t high on the list. She let go of his neck, pulled back and opened her eyes.
He was kneeling on the floor, one hand braced on the chair arm, the other on the seat beside her ankles. The sleeves of his chambray shirt were rolled above his elbows. His forearms—and the eagle—flexed. “If I’d realized you woke up like that,” he murmured, “I never would have let you sleep last night.”
Oh, he was dangerous. His voice was soft, as much a caress as his kiss had been. Sunshine gleamed from his spiky black lashes and warmed the startling blue of his eyes with flecks of gold. She wanted to lean forward and lick the moisture that slicked his lips.
What was the matter with her? How could she let him affect her like this? Even worse, how could she have relaxed her guard enough to fall asleep again? Maybe she really was going crazy. She pushed herself upright. “I can’t believe I dozed off.”
“I can. I saw you were still strung out when you got here.”
“But I didn’t intend…” She cleared her throat, uncertain what to say. I didn’t intend to dream about you. Or to enjoy the reality more than the dream.
He stroked his thumb along her foot to her calf. “I hope you’re not going to apologize about that kiss, Hayley, because I sure as hell won’t.”
That was exactly what she should do, but she wasn’t certain where to start. “I didn’t plan any of this.”
“Too bad. This was the first good idea you’ve had.”
“I didn’t mean to give you the impression that—”
“That you’re a passionate woman? Or that you wanted to kiss me?”
“Neither.” She pressed further back in the chair. The recliner was large so she was able to draw away from Cooper’s touch. Yet she still felt the imprint of his thumb on her leg. And his tongue in her mouth. She struggled to focus her thoughts. “Can we just move on? This isn’t why I came to see you today, Cooper. I thought we already established that.”
“Yeah, I know.” He sighed, rocked back on his heels and rose to his feet. His gaze flicked downward. His cheek twitched. “But the way you look, you’re making it hard to remember.”
She glanced at her lap. Like most of her wardrobe, her skirt was too loose on her—she hadn’t realized it had ridden up almost to her hips. She hurriedly tugged it into place over her thighs. “I’m here because of my brother. I want to talk about Oliver Sproule.”
“There’s nothing more to talk about, Hayley. You need to back off. Leave Sproule to me.”
She thought about the last thing Cooper had said before he’d gone downstairs. He’d claimed he wanted a job with Oliver.
He’d also claimed he wanted Oliver brought to justice.
It hadn’t been that difficult to connect the dots. The hard part was concentrating on them when he was still close enough for her to catch his scent. His aftershave was spicy, his soap smelled of pine, and his mouth had tasted warm and sexy and pure male—
Focus, she reminded herself. “You’re planning to gather evidence against Oliver from the inside, aren’t you?”
“I see you figured it out.”
“Some of it. If you’re going to pretend to work with Oliver, I can understand why you wouldn’t want to be seen with me.”
“There won’t be any pretense about it, Hayley.” He backed up a few steps, then walked to the window in the center of the wall. He angled himself to the side of the window frame and scanned the area below. “I’ll be right in the middle of the Sproule organization.”
“That’s going to be dangerous.”
“Bingo. That’s why you have to keep out of it.”
She looked around for her shoes, slipped them on and followed him. Mindful of his earlier warning about keeping away from the windows, she was careful to stay behind him so she wouldn’t be visible from outside. She shifted her gaze to his back. Sunlight filtered through his shirt, silhouetting his broad shoulders and long, lean torso.
She did her best to ignore the view. “Why are you taking this risk in the first place?” she asked. “You’re not working with any law-enforcement agency, are you?”
He