“You work too hard, Alex,” he said sincerely, sounding concerned.

“Residency is like that. It's a form of slavery, I think all you have to do to pass eventually is prove you can survive.”

“It all sounds very noble,” he said blithely. “Do you suppose you could stay awake long enough to have dinner with me tonight?”

“With you and Rita Waverly?” she teased, but it had none of the malice he had gotten from Charlene the night before or earlier that morning. Alex wasn't like that. She seemed all innocence and decency and good spirits. It was very refreshing for Coop, who was so tired of jaded women. Alex was like a breath of fresh air in his very sophisticated existence. She was an entirely different creature, and the fact that she was Arthur Madison's daughter hadn't been forgotten either. A fortune of that magnitude couldn't be ignored.

“I could ask Rita, if you like,” he said sensibly, “but I thought you might have dinner alone with me, if you can make it.”

“I'd like to,” she said honestly, she was flattered to be invited to dinner by Coop. “But I'm not sure I could stay awake long enough to eat.”

“You can sleep on the banquette and I'll let you know what I ate. How does that sound?”

“Unfortunately, very realistic. Maybe if we do something early, quick, and simple. I haven't slept in about twenty hours.” Her work ethic was inconceivable to Coop, but he nonetheless admired her for it.

“It will be interesting to try and meet those specifications. I accept the challenge. Where shall I pick you up?” He wasn't going to take no for an answer.

“How about my place?” She gave him an address on Wilshire Boulevard, in a good but not overly luxurious building. She was entirely self-supporting. She didn't actually live on her resident's salary, but she tried to add very little to it, so as not to set herself too radically apart from the others. She had a very small studio apartment. “I could be ready by seven. But I really don't want to stay out late, Coop. I have to be wide awake and fully conscious while I'm working tomorrow.”

“I understand,” and he respected her for it. “I'll pick you up at seven, and we'll go someplace simple and easy. I promise.”

“Thank you,” she said, smiling at the prospect. She couldn't believe she was actually going to have dinner with Cooper Winslow. If she had told someone, she was certain they wouldn't have believed her. She went back to work after that, and Coop went to his lunch at Spago. It proved entertaining but fruitless.

Things had been more than a little thin for him of late. He'd been offered another commercial, for men's underwear this time, and he had refused to do it. He never lost sight of the importance of his image. But Abe's threats had remained clear in his mind. Much as he hated to be driven by financial concerns, he knew he had to make some money. All he needed was one great, big, fat movie, and a leading role at that. It never seemed impossible to Coop, or even unlikely. It was just a question of timing. And in the meantime, there were cameos and commercials. And girls like Alex Madison. But he wasn't after her money, he told himself. He just liked her.

Coop picked Alex up promptly at seven on Wilshire Boulevard, and she came bounding out the door before he could walk into the lobby. The building looked respectable, though a little worn, and she admitted to him in the car that her apartment was relatively awful.

“Why don't you buy a house?” he questioned her, as they drove along in his favorite Rolls. Money was certainly no object for her, but she seemed very discreet, and he noticed that she wore no jewelry and dressed simply. She was wearing black slacks, and a black turtleneck sweater and a secondhand Navy pea-coat. He was wearing gray slacks, a black cashmere sweater, and a leather jacket, and black alligator loafers. He had sensed that she would dress down, and he was taking her to a Chinese restaurant. And when he told her, she was delighted.

“I don't need a house,” she said in answer to his question. “I'm never home, and when I am, I'm sleeping, and I don't know if I'm going to stay here. When I finish my residency, I'm not sure where I'll go into practice, although I wouldn't mind staying in Los Angeles.” The one place she knew she wasn't going to go was back to Palm Beach, to her parents. That was a closed chapter for her. She only went for major holidays and state occasions, and as seldom as she could.

Coop had a fascinating evening with her. They talked about a thousand different subjects, Kenya again, and Indonesia, where she had done extensive traveling after college. And Bali, which was one of her favorite places, along with Nepal, where she'd gone trekking. She talked about the books she liked to read, most of which were surprisingly serious. And she had very eclectic taste in music. She knew a lot about antiques and architecture. And she was interested in politics, particularly as it related to medicine, and she was surprisingly knowledgeable about recent legislation on the subject. He had never known anyone like her. She had a mind like a finely tuned machine, and she was far better than any computer. He had to work hard to keep up with her, and he liked that. And when he asked, she told him she was thirty. She assumed he was somewhere in his late fifties, early sixties. She knew he'd been making movies for a long time, but she didn't know how old he'd been when he started. She would have been startled to realize that he had recently turned seventy, and he certainly didn't look it.

She had a delightful evening with him, and she said so as he drove her home. It was only nine-thirty, and he'd been careful not to keep her out late, or he knew she'd be reluctant to see him again, if he dragged her around till midnight and she felt like death the next morning. He knew she had to get up at six-thirty.

“You were a good sport to come out with me,” Coop said generously. “I would have been very disappointed if you hadn't.”

“That's nice of you, Coop. I had a great time, and the dinner was delicious.” Simple, but good, and just spicy enough, the way she liked it. And he had been extremely good company, even better than she'd expected. She had feared he would be all glitter and flash and charm, and very much a product of his business. She was surprised to find him intelligent and warm, and well informed. She didn't have the feeling that he was playing a part, but rather that he was in fact a worthwhile human being, which surprised her.

“I'd like to see you again, Alex, if you have time, and aren't otherwise encumbered.” He hadn't asked her until then if she had a boyfriend. Although other men had never stopped him. He had enough faith in himself to dispose of the best of them, and generally he had, without much trouble. He was, after all, Cooper Winslow. And he never forgot it.

“I'm not ‘encumbered’ actually. I don't have enough time to be. I'm not a very reliable date, I'm afraid. I'm either on duty, or on call.”

“I know,” he smiled, “or sleeping. I told you, I like a challenge.”

“Well, I am one, in more ways than one,” she admitted. “I'm a little gun-shy about serious relationships. A lot gun-shy actually.”

“Thanks to your brother-in-law?” he asked gently, and she nodded.

“He taught me some painful lessons. I haven't ventured out too far in deep waters since then. I tend to stay at the shallow end, with the kiddies. I can handle that. I'm not so sure about the other stuff.”

“You'll risk it for the right man, you just haven't met him yet.” There was some truth to what he said, but honesty in what she had too. She was terrified of getting hurt again, hadn't had a serious relationship since her broken engagement, and dated very little.

“My life is my work, Coop. As long as we both understand that, then I'd love to see you.”

“Good,” he sounded pleased. “I'll call you.” Though it wouldn't be too soon, he had good instincts about those things. He wanted her to miss him, and wonder why he wasn't calling. He knew exactly how to play women. And Alex was open and easy to read, and she had explained herself to him.

She thanked him without kissing him, and he watched to make sure she got into the building safely. He waved as he drove away, and she looked pensive as she rode up in the elevator. It was hard to know if he was for real, and she was skeptical. It would be so easy to fall for someone as smooth and charming as he was, and then God knew what would happen. As she let herself into her apartment, she wondered if she should go out with him again, or if it was too risky. He was a very experienced player.

Alex took her clothes off and dumped them in a heap on a chair, along with the surgical pajamas she'd worn all day, and the ones she'd worn the day before, and the day before that. She never had time to do laundry either.

Coop was very pleased with himself as he drove home. It had gone exactly the way he had wanted it to. And whatever his intentions, or hers, it had been a good beginning. He would just have to see which way the wind blew, and how he wanted to play it. But Alex Madison was definitely an option.

He wasn't worried about it, and Alex didn't have the energy to be. She was asleep before he even got home to The Cottage.





Chapter 9

Charlene called Coop half a dozen times that night, and again, at least another dozen times, the next morning. But this time, Paloma didn't trick him into taking the calls. She knew he would have killed her. He finally took a call from her two days later. He was trying to let her down gently, although not speaking to her for two days was not Charlene's idea of gentle.

“What's up?” Coop asked casually when he took the call. “How are you?”