The Girl Next Door

“Coming in at all hours of the night,” he murmured as he brushed past her and headed up the steps that would take them inside the brownstone. “Covering the most dangerous cases in the city. You sure seem like a woman who enjoys living on the edge.”

She wasn’t going to touch that one.

As they paused on the narrow porch, the wind chime that she’d hung up a few days before pealed softly. The sound soothed her, at least a little bit.

Gabrielle followed him inside. A large, curving bannister led to the apartment upstairs. Her place was up there. His apartment was downstairs, right below hers. They both had a key to the main door, and she watched as he secured that door.

He’d gotten her home, so this was where they should part ways. Only she found herself hesitant to leave him. Maybe it was the image she still had of poor Keith Lockwood. I can still smell the blood. No, she wasn’t in a hurry to rush up those stairs and spend the night all by herself.

Gabrielle already knew sleep wouldn’t come easily. She’d be too busy remembering the sight of that body.

So she lingered at the foot of the stairs, studying Cooper.

He turned toward her and cocked his head. Then his eyes, a shade of a blue that electrified her, narrowed. “You’re scared.” He stalked toward her.

Gabrielle stiffened at the accusation. “I’m a little shaken. I found a dead body. I get to be shaken.”

He stopped less than a foot from her. “I’m sorry you had to see that.”

“Yes, well, I’m sorry that Mr. Lockwood is dead. Maybe if we’d met earlier, if I’d just gone by his place sooner instead of waiting for our meeting time—”

“Then you might be dead, too,” he said, cutting through her words.

Gabrielle pushed back her hair. “He asked me to meet him. He called and said that he had a tip for me.” So much blood. “I guess someone wanted to make sure he never got the chance to deliver that tip.”

He took her hand.

Her breath rushed out. In four months, he hadn’t touched her. Until tonight. He’d touched her at the crime scene, and now he was touching her here.

She hadn’t expected his touch to unsettle her so much. But it did. Awareness pulsed through her as she stared into his eyes.

“Come with me,” he invited softly. “You shouldn’t be alone after what happened.”

“I’m always alone.”

He frowned.

Wait, those words had come out wrong. That was her problem. She was good at writing. When she was talking, Gabrielle had a tendency to say the wrong thing. She cleared her throat and tried again, “What I meant was that I don’t mind being alone. It’s late, and I should be getting upstairs.”

He used his grip on her hand to tug her toward him. “It’s late all right, but I’m betting you’ve got so much adrenaline pumping through your body that sleep is the last thing on your mind.” His eyes glittered down at her. The guy easily topped six foot two, maybe six foot three, and he had the wide, broad shoulders that a football player would envy.

When she looked up at him then, she didn’t see the danger that she normally perceived.

She saw strength. Safety.

“I know a thing or two about adrenaline rushes. I can help you ride it out.”

He didn’t mean that sexually, did he? Because they were nowhere close to having a sexual relationship. No matter what a few heated dreams might have told her.

“Come on.” He guided her toward his door. She’d never actually been past the threshold of his place, so curiosity stirred within her.

Curiosity. It had been her downfall since she was a kid.

He opened the door. The alarm immediately began to beep, and he quickly punched in a code to reset the system.

“Why don’t you have a seat on the couch?” Cooper offered. “I’ll grab us both a drink.”

Her gaze shifted around the room. Ah...there was the punching bag hanging from the ceiling in what looked like a workout room that branched from the living area.

The hardwood floor gleamed in the apartment. A leather couch and armchair were centered around a very large TV. Typical. What wasn’t so typical...

She didn’t see a single family photograph. Actually, there were no photographs at all in the place.

The walls were bare and painted a light brown.

A small hallway snaked off to the left, and she found herself leaning forward to peer down that dark corridor.

“My bedroom is back that way. The guest room, too.” His breath blew against her ear and Gabrielle gave a little jump. She hadn’t even heard him approach. “There something in particular you’re hoping to see?” Cooper asked

“Ah, no, nothing.” She pasted a fake smile on her face and turned toward him. “I don’t know why I came in here. I should let you get some rest.”

“I don’t sleep much.” He lifted his right hand. His tanned fingers had curved around a clear glass. “For you.”

“Thanks.” She put it to her lips and nearly choked when she took a gulp.

Whiskey.

“A few sips might help you to calm your nerves.”

Uh, no.

He downed his own glass in seemingly one swallow. “It’s been one hell of a night,” he muttered as he set his glass down on the nearby end table.

She put her glass down, too. The whiskey was burning her throat. When it came to drinking, she was way too much of a lightweight.

“You don’t want to take the edge off?” Cooper asked her, frowning slightly.

She sank into the couch. I should be heading for the door. “I don’t mix so well with whiskey.”

“I can make you something else...”

“No.” The leather was supple beneath her fingers. Tension still held her body tight, and she kept thinking—

“It doesn’t do any good to keep picturing the dead.” Cooper sat next to her. His thighs brushed against hers. “Turn around.”

“Wh-what?” Now that was just sad. He was making her so nervous that she was actually stuttering.

“You’re so stiff you’re driving me crazy,” he said.