He didn’t look nearly as fierce when he slept. Gabrielle turned her head, letting her gaze slide over Cooper’s face. The danger was gone. The dark intensity vanished when he was unaware.
He looked younger but still as handsome.
Just not as deadly.
His blond hair was mussed. The brilliant blue of his eyes was hidden. His tanned skin looked even darker against the white of the sheets.
And, in the light, Gabrielle could see that Cooper had scars—a lot of them.
When they’d made love, her fingers had skimmed over his body. She’d been so far gone, though, that she hadn’t recognized the rough outline of the scars for what they were.
Her stare drifted down his body. Since the sheet pooled at his hips, she had a great view of his truly impressive chest and abs.
And the seven scars there. She counted those scars again. Yes. Seven.
From gunshots? Knife wounds? Just what had happened to Cooper in his life? What made him so dangerous?
He’s not who you think he is.
That dark voice wouldn’t get out of her head.
She couldn’t escape into sleep, not the way Cooper could. Maybe it was the storm. Storms always reminded her too much of her past.
It had been storming—a fierce, hard storm, just like this one—the night she’d found her father.
The thunder had cloaked the sound of the gunshot. None of her neighbors had even known that he was hurt.
By the time she’d gotten home, it had been too late.
Lightning flashed outside of the window.
Swallowing, Gabrielle lifted her hand. One of Cooper’s arms had curled over her stomach. Carefully, she eased out from under that arm. Then she put his hand back down on the bed. Her gaze studied his face closely, but he didn’t stir.
She pulled on his robe. It was there, so surely he wouldn’t mind if she borrowed it, right?
Gabrielle tiptoed out of his bedroom. It was still early, barely past nine at night, and there was no way she could sleep.
Once back in the den, she hesitated.
The place just seemed so empty. Why didn’t Cooper have any personal mementos there? His place...it was just like Van McAdams’s.
Van and Keith had been in the military, and so had Cooper.
She glanced over her shoulder.
Why had Cooper been at the scene of Keith Lockwood’s death that first night? She’d thought it was just coincidence at the time, but...
She found herself creeping toward the small desk in the corner. A laptop sat on the desk, closed, turned off. Her fingers slid over the laptop.
She’d just made love with a man—and she knew only the barest of details about his past.
Gabrielle leaned down. There were two drawers on the side of the desk. Neither showed signs of having a lock.
“What are you doing?”
Cooper’s voice came from right behind her. She jumped, spun around then tried to suck in a deep gulp of air. “Cooper, you just scared five years of my life away!”
She hadn’t even heard him approach. He’d snuck up on her the same way he had at Lockwood’s apartment.