COUNTERPOINT
An original romantic serialFrom Alina Adams the author of "When a Man Loves a Woman" (DELL 4/00), "Annie's Wild Ride" (AVON 8/98), "Inside Figure Skating" (METROBOOKS 11/00 & 9/99), "Thieves at Heart" (AVON 12/95) and "The Fictitious Marquis" (AVON 6/95)
Available weekly by e-mail from http://www.AlinaAdams.com
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Dedicated to Helping Children All Over the World
CHAPTER NINE
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 signaled 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 earshot 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 commonsense completely fried where it concerns Robin Cooper. Don't expect me to jump on that bandwagon."
"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."