“Don't let me disturb you. I just thought I'd come down and say hello. As long as you're my guests, I wanted to meet you.” They both had the same feeling of amusement to be called his “guests.” For ten thousand a month, they were not his “guests,” but his tenants. “Hello, I'm Cooper Winslow,” he said with a stunning smile, as he shook hands first with Jimmy and then Mark. “Which of you lives where? Did you know each other before?” He was curious about them, as they were about him.
“I'm Mark Friedman, I live in the guest wing. And no, we met yesterday while Jimmy was moving in.”
“I'm Jimmy O'Connor,” he said easily, as he shook hands with the handsome man towering above him. They both had the feeling of being new boys at school meeting the headmaster for the first time. And both were aware that Coop had come honestly by his reputation for being charming. He looked easy and pleasant, and elegant, and impeccably tailored. Even the perfectly pressed jeans fit every inch of his well-toned body and seemingly endless legs. And if either of them had had to guess, they would never even have pegged him at sixty, he looked far younger. And it was inconceivable that he was seventy. It was no mystery why women adored him. Even in blue jeans, he exuded style and glamour. He was every inch the Hollywood legend, as he lowered himself into a chair and smiled at them.
“I hope you're both comfortable in your respective houses.”
“Very much so,” Mark was quick to answer, praying that Charlene hadn't told him about that morning. He was afraid she had and that was why Coop had come out to see them. “It's a remarkable place,” he said admiringly, trying not to think of the woman in the G-string who had served him coffee. And sensing that that was what he was thinking, Jimmy was grinning, with eyes full of mischief. It was a wonderful story.
“I've always loved it here,” Coop said, referring to The Cottage. “You'll have to come up to the main house sometime. Maybe for dinner one night,” and then he remembered he no longer had a cook or a butler or anyone to serve properly. He was going to have to call caterers now if he wanted to invite people to dinner. There was no way he would have trusted Paloma to produce anything but pizza or tacos, no matter how good her English was now. With or without an accent, she was a rebel and frighteningly independent. If he asked her to serve dinner, there was no telling how she'd behave. “Where are you both from?”
“I'm originally from Boston,” Jimmy answered. “I've been here for eight years, since graduate school. I love it.”
“I've been here for ten,” Mark explained. “I came out from New York.” He was about to add “with my wife and children,” but he didn't. It sounded too pathetic, particularly if he had to explain why they were no longer with him.
“You both made the right decision. I'm from the East too, I can't stand the weather there anymore, particularly the winters. It's a much better life here.”
“Particularly on a property like this,” Jimmy said admiringly. He found himself fascinated by Cooper Winslow, as he sat and chatted with them. He seemed totally at ease in his own skin, and he was obviously used to attention and adulation. There was no question that he was entirely aware of how dazzling he was. He had made his living off it for half a century. They were impressive statistics, particularly given the way he looked, at his age.
“Well, I hope you'll both be happy here. Let me know if you need anything.” Mark wasn't about to complain about the stove or the coffee machine. He had already decided to have them fixed himself and take the appropriate amount off his next rent check. He didn't want to open the conversation about his morning coffee, on the off chance that the woman with the huge breasts had told Coop, even though she'd promised she wouldn't. Mark was afraid to trust her.
Coop smiled winningly at both of them again, chatted for a few more minutes and then left them, as the two much younger men stared at each other once he was gone. They waited several minutes before speaking, to give him a chance to go back into his own house, so he wouldn't overhear them.
“Holy shit,” Mark spoke first. “Do you believe what he looks like? I'm going to hang up my spurs forever. Who could ever compete with that?” He had never been so impressed by any man in his life. Cooper Winslow was the best-looking man he'd ever seen. But Jimmy looked less impressed when he answered pensively.
“There's only one problem,” he said in a whisper. He didn't want Coop to hear him. “It's all about him. You can't help but wonder if there's a heart there, or if it's just charm and good looks and a great tailor.”
“Maybe that's enough,” Mark said, thinking of Janet. She would never have left a man with the looks, wit, and charm of Cooper Winslow. Mark felt like a total geek beside him. All his insecurities had leapt to the surface the minute Coop appeared.
