The Soul Collectors

62

Darby's first thought was that she had stepped through a time portal and into the top floor of one of those old historic mansions she'd once seen in Newport, Rhode Island. The space was immense, with Victorian-inspired sofas, chairs and heavy curtains; the only modern flourish was the soft lighting that glowed like candlelight across the cream and beige striped wallpaper. The warm air smelled of lavender — fresh lavender and not some sort of chemical scent, and it was coming from a huge bouquet of fresh-cut lavender sprinkled among white and red roses set up on the table.

She looked around, taking in the immense space and the adjoining kitchen — there was a kitchen in here, an actual kitchen — and she half expected some butler or maid from a Jane Austen novel to come waltzing into the room and tell her the duchess was ready to receive them.

She turned and walked, dragging the rolling suitcase behind her, into a master suite almost as big as her condo. Tall ceilings, and two lamps on cherrywood nightstands bracketing a king-sized bed. Coop stood next to the bed, going through the packages of clothes that had been left on top of the thick white velvet comforter.

Darby parked her suitcase at the foot of the bed and he held up a package of Hanes briefs.

'Tighty-whities. What am I, ten?'

'Let's make a rule,' she said, slipping out of her leather jacket. 'No talking about the case.'

'Fine with me. I could use a break.'

'You want to crash?'

He shook his head, picking up a package holding a blue dress shirt. 'I'm too wired to sleep. All I want is a long, hot shower.'

'You mind if I go first?'

'Not at all. It'll give me time to raid the mini-bar.'

The bathroom, made of black and white marble, had a jacuzzi with windows overlooking the public garden. She could see the old lantern lights glowing around the street and in the distance as she undressed.

Hopping inside the shower, she wished she could stay under the hot water until it ran cold, but she didn't want to waste time. She wanted to spend every available second with Coop. A part of her felt guilty for having these feelings right now, given the day's gruesome events. It seemed wrong, almost abnormal. She was tingling with excitement and anticipation, and Casey was drowning in fear and terror.

Coop was here, and she was alone with him — alone in one of the world's most luxurious and romantic hotels, and she planned on taking full advantage of it. As life had demonstrated to her time and time again, there was no such thing as planning or waiting for the perfect moment, or mood. You had to watch out for it, and when it came along, you had to seize the opportunity or lose it, and there was no way in hell she was about to miss out on this one.

Stepping out of the shower, she debated whether or not to blow dry her hair. Conscious of time, she towel-dried it, combed it back and, still damp, pinned it up in a loose chignon using hair grips. She took her time with the eyeliner, eye shadow and lip gloss.

First she slipped into the special lingerie she had picked out for this moment, along with the dress and shoes. She generally shopped for clothing only out of necessity, and when she did she often chose practical, comfortable items. She never had that girly-girl need to be up on the latest fashions, but she had her own sense of style, and she liked to get all dressed up when the rare occasion demanded it.

Coop almost exclusively dated girly-girls who, after a hard day of shopping, liked to unwind by hitting the clubs. The brighter ones managed to string words together in full sentences but often tired out after a few minutes of conversation. Darby knew she beat every one of them in the brains department and knew, with the right clothing, she could compete with the best of them. With that goal in mind, over the summer she had purchased two items, which she knew, at least from her limited experience of shopping through the sales racks at Banana Republic and J. Crew, had cost a small fortune: a heather-grey, 1920s-inspired cocktail dress with a scooping neckline and plunging back made of silk-chiffon; and a pair of black Magrit heels adorned with crystal satin bows.

Darby checked herself in the mirror. The dress was cute — sexy but sophisticated. Sort of a modern Audrey Hepburn, especially with her hair pulled up, although she doubted the style icon would have worn peep-toe platform shoes with four-inch heels.

They'd look stunning with just the lingerie, she thought.

Darby smoothed out her dress and eased the bathroom door open.

Coop was still standing by the bed, sorting through his new clothes — trousers, jeans, socks, packaged dress shirts and tees. He had taken off his shoes and shirt. She looked him over in the soft glow of light coming from the lamp on the nightstand. The white tank top hugged the curves of his broad and well-defined chest.

He had been hunched over the bed when he glanced up at her. Any doubt she may have had about her plan vanished when she saw his slack-jawed expression.

Coop straightened, eyes widening. He suddenly seemed self-conscious at the way he was gawking at her. His gaze cut to the nightstand, where he picked up a glass of what appeared to be Scotch.

'Well,' she said after a moment. 'Aren't you going to say anything?'

'You look amazing.' He swallowed, then added, 'You always do.'

'Thank you.'

He took a slug of Scotch and wiped at his mouth with the back of his hand.

Darby walked up to him and placed her hands lightly on his chest. In her heels, she was almost eye level with him. She could smell the alcohol on his breath.

She ran her fingers up his chest and across his shoulders. Gripped him gently by the back of the neck and pulled him closer and kissed him once, lightly on the lips.

'It unzips in the back,' she whispered. 'Like this.'

She heard the hitch in his breath when her dress fell to the floor. His throat flushed when he saw what was lying underneath the dress.

Coop cradled her face in his hands, and as he kissed her she reached across his back and pulled up his tank top. He raised his hands and she yanked it over his head and tossed it into the air. Her hands went back to his body, palms and fingers sliding across the smooth hardness of his chest. He feels like he's made of marble, she thought, and pressed herself against him.

They kissed more slowly, more deeply. Coop's warm, strong hands slid down the small of her back. His fingers moved underneath the elastic band of her panties and gently squeezed her buttocks. She let out a soft moan, feeling him growing hard against her, and realized how much this moment matched the fantasy she'd been nursing since the moment he left for London.

'One question,' she whispered.

'What?' The word thick in his throat.

'Shoes on or off?'

'On,' he said, swallowing. 'Definitely on.'

She kissed his neck. His breath caught again and she kissed his chest, slowly, and she heard his beating heart and the way his breath was now coming sharper and faster as she slid her hand over the bulge mashing against the smooth fabric of his trousers. She undid his belt buckle. His hands gripped her arms and she unbuttoned his trousers. They dropped to the floor, and his eyes slammed shut and his head arched back when she ran her fingers inside his boxers.

'Darby… I… I…'

His words trailed off. His eyes flickered shut and she ran her fingers back up his chest and cupped his jaw.

'Coop.'

When he looked at her, his eyes seemed wet, on the verge of tears. Was he crying?

'I love you,' she said. 'I always have, and I always will.'

'I know.'

He was crying.

'I know you do,' he said. 'But I can't. I'm involved with someone else.'