Head Over Heels by Susan Andersen Read Free Book Online Page A

more precisely into her scheme of the universe, she’d walked away from Coop and his dad without a backward glance. A year after that, she’d given birth to Eddie, a golden child also more in keeping with her vision of perfection.
    Coop probably never would have gotten to know his half-brother during his infrequent visits with their mother, except Eddie had been a sunny-natured little dude who’d constantly followed him around andopenly worshiped him. What the hell was a guy supposed to do in the face of that?
    When Coop’s father had died shortly after Coop’s fifteenth birthday and he’d had to live with his mom, Eddie had been the only bright spot in his life. Aching with grief and belligerent with the knowledge of his failure to live up to his mother’s expectations, he’d clashed with her constantly. So when the family moved to Fossil the summer after his high school graduation, he’d cut himself free from Mary’s appearance-is-everything style of parenting and hit the road.
    Veronica came back to the bar with an order from a new group that’d come in. She climbed onto a barstool while he assembled the order and sat silently for a moment. Chin propped in her hand, she watched him. “So, what about you, then—what did you do before you came to Fossil?”
    Coop stiffened, then forced himself to relax. It didn’t take a shrink to figure out that early indoctrination at his mother’s knee had made him slightly paranoid about allowing people to form an opinion of him based on what he did for a living. So sue him—he had a thing about being accepted for who he was. “I’ve knocked around from here to there.”
    â€œUh-huh. And what does that mean, exactly? What, for instance, does one who knocks around do ?”
    Finishing the order, he set it aside and leaned across the bar to bracket her in with his forearms. “A little bit of everything, sugar.” There was something about her that got to him, and if crowding her struck him as a juvenile sort of retaliation for his unwilling fascination, he nevertheless liked seeing the slight flare of disquietin her eyes and the way she straightened when she found his face suddenly too close to hers.
    She was nobody’s pushover, however, for she faced him as coolly as you please. “So what you’re saying is that, basically, you’re a travel bum who can’t keep a job?”
    â€œHey, I had a job that lasted more than a dozen years.”
    â€œAnd what was that?”
    â€œDrifter.” Courtesy of the U.S. Marines.
    She looked at him in exasperation. “What qualifies you for this job?”
    â€œThe fact that I can mix drinks and keep drunks from getting disorderly.” He pushed back. “Why? Am I competing with someone else for the position?”
    â€œNo, of course not.”
    â€œThen what difference does it make where I worked before? The only thing that should matter is if I’m competent at the job you want me to do, when you want me to do it. And, honey, competent doesn’t begin to even cover my abilities—I’m damn good at what ever I choose to do.” He resumed his position draped across the bar and reached out to trace the tip of his forefinger along the curve between her thumb and finger. “You don’t have to take my word for it, though—you’re welcome to test my proficiency yourself. Anytime. Anywhere.” He nuzzled his nose close to her temple and inhaled a whiff of that elusive scent that surrounded her. Then—miffed that it went straight to his head—he tucked her hair behind her ear and crooked his head to whisper suggestively into the exposed orifice. “On any thing .”
    She pushed to her feet. Her face was flushed and her eyes were flustered as she reached for the tray. But she gave him a frosty up-and-down appraisal and said, “Do me a favor. Hold your breath.” Then she walked