CHAPTER FOUR

     Robin Cooper was sitting behind her desk when Victoria walked into the office on Wednesday morning.  Robin Cooper was, in fact, sitting in her chair.  Hearing her come in, he spun around, already amused by what he assumed would be her reaction.
     She rested her briefcase on the desk, attempting to blunt the force of his presence by erecting a barrier.  It didn't work.  The second she laid eyes on him, a carnal thrill shot across Victoria's body like a rocket.  That couldn't possibly be a healthy thing.
     "Hello," Victoria said.
     "I'm back," he said.
     "I can see that."  She'd been wondering where he'd disappeared to after the Gala ended.  And then, she'd ordered herself to stop wondering, decreeing that it was for the best, him returning to the murky depths from whence he sprang.  Robin out of sight meant she could start exorcising him out of mind.
     "We never really did settle our bet the other night."
     For a moment, Victoria forgot the outcome of their game.  She forgot she'd won.  Her mind was too busy dwelling on effigies of Greek Gods converting maidens to the pleasures of the dark side.
     Robin said, "Contrary to what you may have heard, Miss Morgan, I do have standards.  They're very low, but I do have them.  One of my most important standards, is never to welsh on a bet.  We had a deal.  If I lost, I was to accompany you to the saintly Dr. Scott's clinic, for a look at his healing the lepers and raising the dead, among other nifty parlor tricks.  I am here to honor my obligation.  After all, if our situations were reversed, you can be certain I'd have expected you," his eyes bore into her, burning Victoria from the inside out, "To keep your part of the bargain."
     Victoria wondered how, with mere words, Robin could make her feel as if she already had.
     She swallowed hard, telling herself it was alright, she could handle it.  So what if he was the most handsome man she'd ever met?  That was surface.  It was illusion.  It was hormonal.  The reality was that, looks aside, Robin Cooper was everything Victoria usually loathed in a man.  He was arrogant, he was cynical.  He was a playboy and a womanizer.  Worst of all, he harbored the most irrational hatred she'd ever encountered, of her brother.  If Victoria simply kept repeating those facts to herself, their sum should be enough to keep her from doing anything foolish.
     No matter how much she may have wanted to.
     Mind made up, Victoria allowed Robin to escort her down to the parking garage, feeling pleasantly surprised when he agreed to take Victoria's car after she pointed out that his choice of vehicle, a rented Lexus, would definitely stand out in Gabriel's neighborhood.
     Robin waited until they were on their way towards the Mission District before reminding, "You also never did answer my question."
     Victoria signalled changing lanes, glancing over her shoulder.  "Which one was that?"
     "Did you and the good doctor grow up in a saloon?"
     "Actually, we grew up on a small farm outside of Houston."
     For some reason, Robin seemed to find her answer fascinating.  "My goodness."  He shifted in his seat, his back pressed along the window, his elbow propped against his upraised knee.  "People still actually farm in this day and age?  How quaint."
     Encouraged by Victoria's smile, and obviously comfortable with just sitting and studying her while Victoria tried her best not to melt under the intensity of his gaze, Robin nosied on, "Why do you and your brother have different last names?"
     She considered feeding him the same lie she fed all strangers.  It was on the tip of her tongue to offer Robin her usual, "We had different fathers," when Victoria realized that he might already know the truth, courtesy of Douglas, and was testing her honesty.
     So she confessed, "We're not blood relatives.  We grew up in the same foster home."
     "The aforementioned little farm outside Houston?"
     "Actually, first, there was a little apartment in the heart of Houston.  Gabriel lived there almost a year before I showed up."
     Taking in both her tone of voice, and the way Victoria ducked her head uncomfortably as she spoke, Robin surprised her with his sensitivity in gently guessing, "That would be the residence with the saloon, wouldn't it?"
     She sighed.  "One of them."
     "There was more than one?"
     "You think a girl learns to mix a Salty Dog overnight?"
     She'd been going for a laugh, followed by a graceful change of topic.  Instead, Robin raised his hand to his face, propping up his chin in the slope between his thumb and index finger.  He tapped his cheek thoughtfully.
     Then, voice curious rather than accusatory, he offered,  "It's an act, isn't it?  This perfect, corporate paragon called Victoria Morgan.  It's how you want the world to see you.  And you're good.  You're really good.  You've got them all fooled.  Inside, though -- inside, you're wondering how long until somebody sees through the act.  Until somebody figures out the truth.  You're not at all who they think you are.... Are you?"
     Victoria's heart twisted into a knot.  She'd been waiting most of her life for someone, anyone, to ask that exact question.  When it finally happened, though, it didn't feel real.
     How did he know?  How could he possibly know?
     He read her mind.  Or at least that's what it felt like, when, in response to a query Victoria felt certain she hadn't posed out loud, Robin answered, "It takes one to know one."

     He kept the conversation surface for the remainder of their drive.  Possibly out of consideration for Victoria, possibly out of a reluctance to delve deeper into his own statement.  Either way, Victoria was grateful for the change of subject.
     When they strolled into Gabriel's clinic, Victoria's brother, in a white coat over a pair of jeans and denim shirt, stood hunched by his examining table, wielding a hypodermic needle above the head of an eight year old Asian girl.  "Here's the deal, Hee-Jin.  You know how adults say, this will hurt me more than it hurts you?"
     Hee-Jin nodded, sucking on the end of an ebony braid.
     "Not true.  This is going to hurt you more.  But, then again, you need the shot to get better.  So, I tell you what I'm going to do."  Gabriel reached behind him, and pulled a red, toy hammer out of a drawer.  He tucked it in Hee-Jin's hand.  "As soon as I start the shot, you have my permission to hit me, hard as you can, right here."  He tapped the shoulder of his left arm.  "Ready?"
     Another nod.
     "Here we go."  Gabriel pressed the hypodermic needle against Hee-Jin's arm and squeezed lightly.
     She smacked his shoulder in retaliation.  But, instead of a thwack, the hammer let loose a maniacal giggle so infectious, Hee-Jin couldn't help joining in.  By the time she finished laughing, Gabriel had completed his shot and scooted her off the table.  He gave the little girl a hug good-by, exchanged a few words with her mother, scribbled out a prescription on a pad tucked beneath the towers of files on his desk, and waited for both to clear out of ear-shot before acknowledging Robin's obviously unwelcome presence.
     "Here to repossess the tongue depressors, Mr. Cooper?"
     Robin looked through Gabriel, addressing Victoria as if no one else was in the room.  "Your brother has a charming bedside manner when it comes to his benefactors.  Did he learn it at Johns Hopkins Medical School?  Or in Juvenile Hall?"
     Gabriel tapped his chest with an open palm.  "You've read my biography.  I'm touched."
     So was Victoria.  And more than a little surprised.  She had no idea Robin took such an interest in the bios of those applying for an Elizabeth Grant.  She'd assumed his title as director of the charity was semantic.  She didn't think he actually did any work.
     Gabriel asked, "May I speak to you for a moment, Vicky?" and didn't wait for a reply before grabbing her elbow and pulling her into a corner of the clinic.  Over his shoulder, Gabriel called to Robin, "Amuse yourself, Mr. Cooper.  If you look carefully, I bet you'll find some butterflies you can pull the wings off of."
     Victoria rolled her eyes.  Children.  She was trapped between two, overgrown children.
     "What the hell is he doing, here, Vicky?"  Gabriel crossed his arms and stood with his back to Robin.  "Gloating?"
     Victoria lowered her voice, practically hissing each word, "I am trying to induce him to keep your clinic open.  And you, by the way, are not helping."
     "What do you want me to do?  It's bad enough one member of our family has had her common-sense completely fried where it concerns Robin Cooper.  Don't expect me to jump on that band-wagon."
     "I have not," Victoria heard herself doth protesting too much. "Had my common sense fried.  It's at best... tartared."
     "Oh, please.  The other night at that fancy blowout, you went psycho on me.  We were in the middle of a conversation, when all I did was mention his name and boom!  You just wandered off, like he had a magnet on you or something."
     "You're exaggerating," Victoria said.  Although, she knew full well he wasn't.
     "I don't like this."  Gabriel rubbed his chin with one hand.  "The guy is bad news.  Look at him.  Tell me you believe that Robin Cooper has ever given a damn about anyone except himself."
     Victoria did as he ordered.  She looked at Robin.  She really looked at him.  And yes, she did see the Robin Cooper Gabriel was talking about.  At least, the outer trappings of him.  She saw the impeccably styled, impeccably sewn, outrageously expensive clothes.  The hands with callouses solely from horseback riding and sailing.  The perfectly brushed hair.  The smirk that never quite thoroughly left his features.  The way he moved, as if even the air had better get out of his way if it knew what was good for it.  And yet, no matter how true she believed Gabriel's assessment to be, Victoria couldn't shake her conviction that there was more to the man than what could easily be seen by the naked eye.  She'd had glimpses -- granted, they were brief ones, but they did exist -- of a different Robin Cooper.  Of a man battling demons so dark, he was afraid of letting anyone near them, lest they be unable to find their way back.  Of a man much smarter, much deeper, much... kinder, than he allowed anyone to believe.  Of a man aching for someone to figure out the truth.  You're not at all who they think you are?  Are you?
     Victoria said, "You don't know him, Gabriel."
     "Oh, and you do?"  He sighed.  "Douglas Cooper and I had quite an illuminating chat the other evening.  You do know that your new friend is married, don't you?"
     "Of course, I do," she snapped.  Harsher than she'd intended.
     "Okay.  But, do you also know that he keeps an international harem that would make Ali Baba's look meager?  You've heard of a girl in every port?  Robin Cooper's got one in every zip code."
     "Area code."  The devil they'd been talking about materialized behind Gabriel, tapping him on the shoulder to correct, "Actually, I've got one in each area code.  It's how I keep them straight, and insure never phoning the wrong one."  Robin asked Victoria, "Tell me, does your brother ever tumble off that high horse of his?"
     His tone was friendly, if sarcastic, but Victoria detected the angry steel running underneath.  She sensed the situation was fast running the risk of boiling over, and the last thing she wanted was for either Robin or Gabriel to really lose their tempers.  Hoping to keep the atmosphere civil, Victoria forced a lighthearted timbre into her voice, and laughed, "As a matter of fact, Gabriel doesn't like horses.  When we lived on the ranch, our foster father, Brian, once tried to get Gabriel on one.  He said, "She won't bite, son, she's gentle as a lamb."  But, Gabriel looked at him, all serious, and he said, "Lambs bite, too."
     Amused, Robin inquired, "Is that a fact?"
     "Now, me," she blabbered on, sliding between the two of them.  "I've always loved horses and riding and -- "
     From outside, a noise that, to Robin, sounded like a car backfiring but, to Gabriel and Victoria, signified something a lot more sinister, cut her off mid sentence.  She and her brother exchanged anxious looks, but Gabriel was already running towards the street, muttering, "Shit," under his breath.
     He returned minutes later, carrying an Asian woman dressed in a long dress that might once have been yellow, but was now stained crimson with blood, and followed by a boy of no more than thirteen.
     "We weren't doing nothing."  The boy, wearing a denim jacket with Chinese symbols stitched in red on the back, tugged Gabriel's sleeve.  "We were just standing, waiting for the bus.  Ma stepped in front of me and the bastards came by and popped us."
     Gabriel laid the woman down on the nearest examining table, ripping open what was left of her dress, while slipping one hand under her back, looking for the bullet's exit wound.
 Over the boy's cries, Gabriel calmly ordered him, "Shut your mouth, Dustin.  You think I don't know what's going on here?  You think I don't know whose fault this is?"
     "No, man, you've got it all wrong."  Dustin stomped his foot, looking in that instant more like a toddler than a teenager.  "My ma and me, we're just waiting for the fucking bus.  They drove by, pulled out their guns and popped her.  Right in the street."
     "I said, shut up!"  Gabriel feverishly pressed gauze against Dustin's mother's abdomen, trying to stop the bleeding at the same time as he tilted his ear towards her mouth, listening for breath.  "You know and I know that this is all your fucking fault.  So bite the crocodile tears and get out of my way."
     "What the hell is the matter with you, Scott?"  Robin stepped forward, his arms on Dustin's shoulders, pulling him away from the table.  "How can what happened to his mother be this boy's fault?"
     Without turning his head, Gabriel directed Dustin, "Tell the nice millionaire what those colors on the back of your jacket mean.  Tell him about that bunch of thugs you hang with, and how you pass your days looking for kids with other colors on their backs so you can splash their brains on the sidewalk.  Then ask him if he still thinks what happened to your mom isn't your fault."
     Robin blanched, releasing his hold on Dustin as if the boy had heated up one hundred degrees.  Victoria approached him, realizing that stepping into a gang war zone was not what Robin signed up for when he agreed to take this field trip with her.  She was about to ask him if he was alright, when Gabriel, running out of free hands with which to try and stop the bleeding, open a sterile needle kit, and hook up a saline IV, called out, "Do me a favor, Vic.  Sheila's taking her lunch break.  She's around the corner at that cafe with the Coke sign in front.  Run and get her, would you?  I need help."
     Victoria nodded and took off, flashing one last look at Robin.  He hadn't budged, staring at the bleeding woman with a combination horror, fascination, and, Victoria couldn't help noting, something akin to recognition.  Victoria promised herself she'd see to him as soon as she got back.
     But, by the time she returned with Sheila, Robin was gone.
     Three days later, a certified envelope, no return address, no identifiable postmark, appeared on Victoria's desk.  Inside was a notarized document, pledging the Elizabeth Fund's continued support for the Mission Street clinic, with Dr. Gabriel Scott as attending physician and managing director.  It was signed, Robin Cooper.
     It came with no further explanation.

     Victoria had no more idea of why or where to Robin Cooper had disappeared this time, then she had immediately after the Elizabeth Fund Gala.  The closest thing she had to contact from him, besides the letter, was Gabriel's telling her that an unidentified man had called San Francisco General Hospital to ask about Dustin's mother.  As was the hospital policy, he received no information, outside of the fact that she was still alive.  The next day, a cashier's check -- no traceable name -- appeared at the hospital by messenger, with a note instructing it to be used for the woman's care.
     When Victoria pointed out that Robin's actions, no matter how cryptic, were hardly the deeds of a devil incarnate, Gabriel only shrugged and guessed, "Maybe he's lining her up for his harem."
     Victoria sincerely doubted it.
     Frankly, she couldn't help feeling vindicated.  Even if he did have a curious way of carrying it out, Robin's altruism proved that her faith in him, groundless as it seemed, was nonetheless valid.
     Douglas Cooper, however, had an entirely different take on the situation.  He said, "My son is doing what he does best.  Creating chaos, then running away from the responsibility of fixing it.  He got himself into a jam, railing against the clinic for no grounds save it was the mood he was in at the time.  Then, he met you, he saw how important the project was, and he changed his mind.  But, he couldn't very well be a civil human being and admit he'd made a mistake.  Not after the tantrum he'd thrown about closing it.  So, Robin being Robin, he took off, throwing money blindly behind him to placate any hurt feelings.  Believe me, Miss Morgan, there is nothing new going on here."
     Most days, Victoria liked Douglas Cooper.  He seemed a decent man.  Fair.  Reasonable.  Except when it came to his son.  When it came to Robin, every word out of Douglas' mouth spewed tainted with double layers of meaning.  And a bitterness the roots of which she still had no clue where to begin unravelling.
     Victoria tried to thrust the entire situation out of her mind.  After all, the solitary reason she'd approached Robin Cooper in the first place was so she could rescue Gabriel's clinic, and now that was settled.  So, really, she had no incentive to see him again -- outside of work.  And yet, Victoria couldn't help feeling that, in taking off so abruptly, he'd left something incomplete.  Something unfinished.  Something unanswered.
     Granted, Victoria told herself, some questions were better off left unanswered.  And the sensations that flared between her and Robin Cooper were probably right at the top of that list.  But, it was unfair just the same.  She had spent so much time debating what she should do if the interaction between them ever evolved past the harmless flirtation stage, Victoria judged it unfair that she never got the chance to put her theories into practice.
     Still, an end to temptation meant no chance of her failing the ultimate test.  Which, most certainly, was for the best.  Sardonic grin, devastating eyes, and bewitching heart aside, the last thing Victoria needed was to wake up one morning as part of a harem.
     She was grateful for her work.  It gave her something to hide in when speculations about Robin threatened to overload Victoria's senses.  A week after he'd disappeared for the second time, she was in the middle of a meeting with Douglas, plus seven of the Fund's biggest contributors.  She was explaining, dollar by dollar, where every cent of their money was being spent this year, when Douglas' secretary stumbled through the door, mouth open, eyes wide, and no concept as to where she should begin.  Behind her, stood Robin.  In Robin's right hand, were reins.  Attached to the reins, was a full grown, living, breathing horse.
     Robin smiled and raised one arm, his left, in a half-wave to his father.  He said, "I brought Miss Morgan a present."
     Eight heads turned to stare at Victoria.  She returned their dumbfounded stare with one of her own.
     "R-Robin?"  Victoria's voice sounded strange to her ears, and her subsequent question sounded even stranger.  But, it was all she could think of to ask.  "What do you think you're doing?"
     He said, "I owe you a debt of gratitude.  For opening my eyes about the clinic.  It's exactly the sort of project Elizabeth Fund should be supporting.  I would have made a mistake closing it, and you saved me from that.  So, since I have you to thank for it," he indicated the horse.  "I have you to thank for it.  You did say you liked riding, didn't you?"
     "Well, yes...."
     "And you don't already have a horse, do you?"
     "No, I don't, but -- "
     "Excellent.  This is for you, then."
     "Robin!"  Her senses were slowly returning to her.  "In case you haven't noticed, I'm in the middle of something."
     Douglas Cooper pointed to the door.  "Get out, Robin, and take your animal with you."
     "It's not my animal.  It's Miss Morgan's."
     "Robin, please..."  She was drowning in a deep, deep wave of discomfort.  This catastrophe was all her fault, and it was up to her to rectify it.  "Please, go."
     "On one condition?"
     "For God's sake, what?"
     "Have dinner with me.  Tonight."
     "Fine."  She waved him away.  "Just go."
     Robin turned to leave, hesitating in the doorway to ask.  "Do you like French food, Miss Morgan?"
     "No."  All she wanted now was for him to depart, and quickly.  The last thing Victoria needed was to extend their conversation.
     "Italian?"
     "No."
     "Chinese?"
     "No."
     Refusing to take her reply for an answer, Robin persisted, "So what kind of food do you like?"
     "Canadian."  Victoria wondered whether, if she closed her eyes he would disappear.  For good this time.  As added incentive, she promised not even to speculate about where he went.
     But, no such luck.  Robin only nodded his head in response to her obviously sarcastic retort.  "Canadian," he said.  "Very good."
When he came to pick her up after work, Robin drove Victoria to the airport, where he led her on-board the Cooper jet and asked, "How does dinner in Victoria, British Columbia sound to you?"