okay financially.”
No need to tell him about the ridiculously high commissions she received every month from her father’s art. “I was raised by a single mother who worked hard and made sure we didn’t waste money on frivolous things. I knew the difference between getting the things I really needed and denying myself those things I wanted that weren’t essential.”
She didn’t say anything for a brief moment then added, “The reason I suggested you handle Laramie’s future is because I think that’s what upset my father the most with my mother...besides her keeping my existence from him. Knowing she hadn’t adequately prepared for my future. I had to explain to him that it hadn’t been her fault since there was no extra money to set up a college savings account for me. Mom was a teacher, not a six-figure-salary engineer. She had student loans to pay back. But still, we lived in a nice house in a good neighborhood. I thought we lived pretty good.”
She smiled. “Mom said we were a team and always would be one. I was happy. I was content. At the time. I really didn’t think of life being any better. It was years later that I found out just how complicated life could be.”
Coop nodded. “Our son’s financial well-being is something you don’t have to worry yourself with anymore because I’m here to help.” He leaned forward and rested his arms on his thighs. “There is that other item we need to discuss before I leave today, Bristol.”
She lifted a brow. “What other item?”
He held her gaze. “The issue of our fake marriage.”
Coop could tell from the look in Bristol’s eyes that she’d forgotten about that complication. That was unfortunate for her, since he clearly remembered. A woman claiming to be your wife was something that pretty much got stuck in your mind.
“I told you why I did it,” she said in a defensive tone.
He leaned forward. “Yes, you did. But that doesn’t mean we don’t need to talk about it. Spinning that tale might have been okay when you assumed I was dead, but as you can see, Bristol, I’m very much alive.”
When she didn’t say anything, he asked, “What do you think we should do?”
She shrugged. “Why do we have to do anything? It’s not as if anyone knows the truth but my best friend, Dionne, and her husband, Mark, who was working for the judge at the time.”
“It’s a lie, Bristol. And one thing about a lie, it can come back to haunt you when you least expect it.”
She stood and began pacing. He watched her, trying to keep his mind on the issue at hand, but found it difficult to do so. Especially when her body was in motion. He should be noticing the sound of the wooden floor creaking beneath her feet or the way her hair brushed against her shoulders as she moved. However, he wasn’t attuned to either of those things. Instead his total concentration was on her body. A body he remembered so well.
Coop couldn’t watch her move those jeans-clad thighs without recalling a time he’d been between them. Recollecting a time when he’d tasted her. Touched her all over. He was so damn aware of every damn inch of her.
She suddenly stopped pacing and looked over at him. Why? Had she detected him staring? Should he sit there and pretend he hadn’t been? He doubted he could, even if he wanted to. That would be trying to do the impossible where she was concerned.
“What do you suggest?” she then asked him.
Right now he thought about suggesting they go upstairs to her bedroom and get it on. Rekindle those days in Paris, if for no other reason than to prove he hadn’t imagined it, that it had been as good as he’d remembered.
“There are only two options, Bristol. Either we pretend to get a divorce to end the fake marriage or we make the marriage real.”
She came and sat back down. “There’s absolutely no reason to make the marriage real, so getting a pretend divorce sounds good to me. All that involves is us saying we’re getting a divorce. No paperwork needed.” A huge smile touched her lips. “Great! That was an easy solution.”
“Not quite.”
She lifted a brow. “And why not?”
The muscles in his jaw tightened. “Because in the end you’ll emerge smelling like a rose, but I’ll be the scumbag. A man who deserted his wife and child for nearly two years, and then who turns around and divorces her.”
His harsh description had her lifting a brow, which meant she knew he didn’t appreciate the position she was placing him in. “But I told you why I did it,” she said.
“And now you want to take the easy way out.”
Coop wondered why he was taunting her, especially when he truly didn’t give a royal damn what people thought. They didn’t know him. No, it wasn’t the people he was concerned about. It was his son. When Laramie grew into manhood, what story would he hear about and believe? No matter how much quality time Coop would spend with his son, he ran the risk of Laramie one day wondering why he hadn’t been there for them when it mattered the most. Hadn’t Bristol said she’d wondered about it when she didn’t know the real deal with her own father?
And, if he was honest, there was another reason he was suddenly thinking this way. It was about those memories he just couldn’t shake. It was his attraction to Bristol that had been there from the start. This deep sexual chemistry they’d given in to in Paris.
He’d always prided himself on being a person who exuded total control. His SEAL friends often referred to him as the quiet storm. There was a coolness about him. Always calm. Always composed. Levelheaded to a fault. And beneath all that equanimity, he was watching, waiting, always on the lookout for the unknown. Considering the possibilities while fighting off the restlessness. But when he was provoked, all bets were off and he would kick ass like the best of them. Even more so. When pushed into a corner, he came out fighting.
What if at some point down the road Bristol met someone and decided to marry? How would that impact his relationship with his son? Would he have to stand in line for his son’s attention? His affection? Was there a way to assure that didn’t happen? Was he being a selfish bastard for wanting to make sure it never did?
“Coop?”
He blinked. Had he been staring at her while all those crazy thoughts rushed through his brain? And were they crazy? His steady gaze held hers. No, they weren’t crazy. Irrational, yes. Crazy, no. There was a difference.
When she said his name again he answered, “Yes?”
“Are you okay?”
Now, that was a good question. Was he? To her he said, “I just realized how little we know of each other. How very little information was exchanged between us in Paris.”
“We didn’t do much talking,” she blurted out. From the look on her face he knew she hadn’t meant to say that. It didn’t matter since what she’d said was true. Her hormones and his testosterone had been working overtime and the only thing they’d wanted to do was assuage the desire flowing between them. He hadn’t wanted to know anything about her and she hadn’t wanted to know anything about him. For those three days, pleasure had been the name of the game and they’d played it well.
“No, we didn’t,” he said. “And now we have a son to show for it. I want to get to know you.”
“Why?”
“Because you are the mother of my child and there is a lot I don’t know.”
She lifted a chin. “Don’t sweat it. The only thing you truly need to know is that I love him, will always take care of him and put his interests first.”
He wondered if that was really all he needed to know. Maybe. Then maybe not. It had been one thing to arrive in