Get a Clue(59)

“For your time here being ruined. For me, for—”

He smiled at her. “I’m not complaining.”

“Are you going to go back to being a cop?”

That got her another shrug.

“You know, you really talk waaay too much,” she teased lightly.

His eyes lit with humor but he didn’t respond to the bait as she would have. Instead he went back to looking in the engine compartment.

“How come you don’t talk about yourself?”

“I’m just not into dwelling.”

A throwaway comment, but she could read between the lines, and could well imagine how it’d been for him and his brother without a mom. With a tough-ass dad. With no softness.

And yet he’d taken any helplessness and channeled it into something worthwhile. He’d become a cop, of all things, a vice cop, where he’d seen things that she couldn’t even imagine.

Maybe he was on to something. Maybe not dwelling was the secret to surviving not only this madness, but life in general. For instance, if she didn’t dwell on her family and friends’ reactions to what had happened to her yesterday, then she couldn’t be mortified. If she didn’t dwell on being left at the altar three times, she wouldn’t have to have that no-more-men rule.

Dangerous thoughts here in the middle of nowhere, with no electricity and nothing to do but look at him.

And holy smokes, was he something to look at! He’d shoved up his sleeves now and was doing something there beneath the hood, and looking sexy as hell while he was at it.

She wondered at this insatiable attraction she had for him. Was it the sexy clothes she wore making her feel so . . . horny?

No.

Was it merely because she’d told herself she could have him?

No.

Was it because he was strong and smart and didn’t seem to care what anyone thought of him? That he had no problem showing whatever he felt, whether it be frustration at their situation, hunger for her body, or a shimmering anger at the sight of a dead man?

Or how about the way he’d protected her without question, putting her safety ahead of his at all times?

Oh, yeah.

And damn if that utter selflessness of his wasn’t the biggest aphrodisiac she’d ever experienced. It made her want to do things to him, things that involved a lot less clothing than they had on. She wanted to see him, lost in the throes of passion, vulnerable and open, and when she had him like that, she wanted to take care of him in a way she suspected he didn’t often let anyone do. “Aren’t the snowmobiles useless to us without gasoline?”

“Yep.” Turning, he walked to a large wall shelving unit, randomly opening one, then going very still. “Shit,” he said softly.

“What—” She broke off when she saw what he saw.

A shoe.

The matching shoe to the one Edward wore, just set innocuously on a shelf all by itself. “Oh, no.”#p#分页标题#e#

Cooper stared at it, the muscle in his jaw twitching. “I’m not happy about this.”

Neither was she. Her heart had leapt into her throat.

“Jesus,” he muttered. “The whole fucking house is a crime scene.”

She put a hand on his tense spine, felt the heat and strength there. “Cooper? I really, really want out of here.”

“Tomorrow,” he said tightly, and opened another cabinet. “Bingo,” he said at the sight of the cans of gasoline. “Without power, we’ll have to open the garage doors manually, and that’s not going to be easy—I’ve tried. They’re heavy from the large snowdrift that’s probably up against it.”

“We can shovel—”

That got a smile.

“What?”

“I’m seeing you shoveling in that shirt and skirt. With those knives tucked into your boots.” His expression heated. “Nice picture, actually.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he said huskily, looking at her, really looking at her, as if he could see inside and hear her thoughts, which were pretty much going down a path to dangerous waters.

“This is crazy,” she whispered, and backed up a step. She lifted her hand to swipe her damp forehead and nearly poked out her own eye with the knives. “This whole thing is crazy. The wedding, the storm, this house—the dead body.”

His smile faded. “I know.”

“I’m just so damned jumpy. And we both know I hate trusting you, but the truth is . . . I guess I do. A little, anyway.”

He held out a hand. “Enough to give me those knives before you lose a body part?”

She held them out. “I can take care of myself.” False bravado and they both knew it. She hadn’t taken care of herself; he had.