Page 30 of First Star I See Tonight (Chicago Stars 8)

“For—what do you think?”

She’d sacked him again, and he seemed temporarily at a loss. She loved her flippancy. He couldn’t see how short-lived her bed-hopping days had been or how lonely they’d made her feel.

“So you’re basically a man-eater?” Graham said.

“Oh, no. I’m not sexy enough.”

He started to say something—almost as if he wanted to argue with her—then he backed off. She snapped the kit shut and got up to look for the coffee beans.

***

Coop watched as Piper disappeared into the pantry. She wasn’t beautiful, but she was . . . what? He could only come up with one word. Infuriating. Maybe two words. Infuriating and intriguing. He looked down at his mud-splattered jeans. The tear in the arm of his jacket. His bandaged hand. Infuriating, intriguing, and . . . a little bit dangerous. Those quick reflexes; her dark hair, as jagged as old razor blades; those shrewd blue eyes, and thick slabs of eyebrows; that crazy-wide mouth; and a jaw nearly as solid as his own. Her body, too. There were no bones protruding. Her curves were right where they should be.

But . . . as soon as this gig was over, she was out. Now wasn’t a good time to have anyone unpredictable around him, even though she gave him this odd—not exactly a rush—more a hyperawareness. She was unexpected, and that meant he had to keep up his guard.

No, that wasn’t quite right, either.

He had to be attentive when he was with her, but not guarded. The opposite of guarded, really. He didn’t pull his punches. Didn’t even consider it. He was always polite, even to women who grated on him, but with her, he was like a junior high bully insulting a girl just to see if he could make her cry. But there were no tears from Mister Piper Dove. She could more than hold her own.

She came out of the pantry. Nobody who wasn’t smart graduated from the University of Illinois with a double major, and he chalked up her intelligence as another irritant. Considering his own dismal academic record, his attraction to brainy women was ironic. But his lousy grades had been the result of too many hours on the practice field, not stupidity.

Piper got the coffeepot working without a tutorial. She was lying about her male conquests. Or maybe not, because there was definitely something about her. By the time she’d poured her coffee, he’d figured it out.

It was the challenge.

The way she carried herself, the way she charged after what she wanted. She was a woman who attacked life instead of waiting for it to unfold around her. And her general imperviousness to him had stirred up some kind of primitive bullshit need to conquer. Which was exactly what other men saw in her. A test of their masculinity.

He doubted she understood that, but even if she did, he couldn’t see her playing the bitch card. She didn’t care enough about attracting men to deliberately make herself difficult. Her life centered around her job, and men were nothing more to her than a necessary inconvenience. Because of that . . .

He was going to nail her.

The thought came out of nowhere . . . or maybe it had been lurking in his subconscious all along. He wanted to take her right now. Against the sink. On the counter. Strip her naked and reassert the natural order of things. Male over female.

The sting in his wounded hand restored his sanity. He was disgusted with himself. Where the hell had that come from?

She set down her coffee mug. “What did I do now?”

He realized he was scowling. “Breathe.”

“Deepest apologies.” She raised her mug toward him, unscathed by his rudeness. “You did a noble thing today, Mr. Graham, whether you wanted to or not. Saving Jada from an untimely death is good karma.”

“Stop calling me Mr. Graham.” He didn’t mess with his female employees. Ever. Didn’t need to. And he wouldn’t mess with Esmerelda. Not yet. Not while she was working for him. But the minute her job ended, she was fair game. Before he saw the last of her, he intended to show her which one of them was the better man.

***

Piper yawned and stepped into the hallway, her travel mug in hand. Even though it was Sunday morning and she’d worked until three, she couldn’t afford the luxury of sleeping in. She needed to get to her office.

The door to Jada’s apartment opened, and a slender, dark-haired woman carrying a backpack emerged. “You’re our new neighbor,” the woman said as she spotted Piper.

“Piper Dove.”

“I’m Karah Franklin.”

This must be Jada’s mother, although she looked more like an older sister. Dark, curly hair swirled to her shoulders, and her warm brown skin didn’t require even a touch of makeup. The woman’s beauty suggested Coop hadn’t given her a free apartment simply because he’d been friends with her husband but because they were lovers. She looked enough like Kerry Washington to qualify as a movie star girlfriend.

Karah shifted her backpack to her shoulder. “Jada told me you’d moved in. If she bothers you, let me know.”

Piper remembered the sight of Coop sprawled in the alley yesterday morning. “She’s no bother. She seems like a terrific kid.”

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