Run Rosie Run (8 page)

She needed the physical release and the intimacy, a lover’s touch on her skin, the whisper of sweet nothings in her ear. Again the little voice warned her that things were spiralling out of control too hot and too fast, but she refused to listen.

‘I’m a great proponent of trying new things,’ she whispered.

This time he turned her hand palm up, gently rubbing his fingertips round and round the over sensitive flesh and the throb in her nipples and between her legs made her wriggle in her seat.

‘You’re one hell of a woman, Rosie. Will you share my bed tonight, or is it too soon?’

Whoa. Josh didn’t hang about. But that was a good thing, wasn’t it? Look at where going slow and waiting for lurve to happen had got her. Nowhere.

She’d never, ever, gone to bed with a man on the first date.

But it wasn’t as if Josh was a stranger. They’d known each other as friends of friends for four years. He’d casually dated women, still managed to remain on good terms with them and that spoke well of him.

Her eyes met his and she told him the simple truth.

‘I want you.’

Again the smile flashed before his eyes stared into hers.

His brows met thoughtfully.

‘Tell me about your relationship with Alexander.’

Caught off guard, Rosie sat back.

How the hell had Alexander come into this?

Embarrassment warred with annoyance that the mere mention of his name had spoiled the perfect moment.

A sly voice that was her inner bitch whispered in her ear, gave her a sharp nudge.

‘There is no relationship, other than a weird sibling thing we’ve got going. He’s been a pain since I was little. Always disapproving, always judgemental.’ She waved her spoon in the air. ‘You know the type, very controlling. It’s either his way or no way.’

‘Really?’ His eyes didn’t meet hers, but flicked over her shoulder. ‘I’ve always felt the pair of you were close.’

Rosie couldn’t do anything about the flash of heat in her cheeks and again wondered how much wine she’d drunk? Her brain frantically played back their conversation. Alexander hadn’t come up once, she was sure of it.

Shaking her head vehemently, she scooped up another spoonful of chocolate.

To hell with the diet.

‘You must be joking! He’s nearly forty,’ she told him firmly, adding five years without a blush.

Warming to her theme and the prompting in her ear she gave Josh big eyes.

‘Alexander’s too set in his ways. He’s a toxic bachelor who suffers from irritable male syndrome. Probably waxes his chest and uses more face products than I do.

‘And I bet his idea of showing a woman a good time is pure vanilla sex.’ She wrinkled her nose and with absolutely no conscience hammered the last nail into Alexander’s coffin.

‘He’s too pretty. I prefer a real man.’

Rosie sensed him before she saw him.

Josh stiffened, eyes widening. ‘Evening, Alexander.’

The chill slid down Rosie’s spine along with an icy blast of arctic disapproval.

Regret and guilt rolled sickly in her stomach.

Why
hadn’t she kept her big mouth shut?

Alexander ran his tongue over his top teeth.

Why did it feel as if he’d taken a bullet to the heart?

Rosie’s words buzzed in his head like wasps in an empty jam jar.

Too old was he? Set in his ways was he? He couldn’t believe it.

Neither could he believe the dismissive tone she’d used.

She preferred a real man, did she?

And he was astounded to discover deep hurt battling with an outraged betrayal at her savage description of him. As if he was nothing to her, not even a friend?

Pretty? What the fuck? How dare she talk about him like that.

The peculiar sensation that he needed to throw Rosie over his shoulder or drag her back to his cave and do manly things of a carnal nature to her swept over him.

Fury, hurt and a shocking arousal swept through his system like a tornado.

What the hell was the matter with her?

Then he looked at Rosie, really looked at her.

More to the point, what was she wearing?

Since he was standing behind her, he had a bird’s eye view of the bursting cleavage and those endless tanned legs.

Christ, if the dress was any shorter he’d see her panties.

The scent of her shampoo, her light floral perfume and pure Rosie surrounded his senses.

Then he caught sight of her zebra print sky high heels.

Holy Jesus.

And Josh, the randy bastard, had his tongue on the floor.

It hadn’t taken the jungle drums long to alert him that Rosemary Gordon was in the hotel getting all hot and heavy with Joshua Erichsen in front of a fascinated public. That was the trouble with living in a small community your whole life. Everyone loved to gossip about everyone else. He knew they’d be dining out on the spectacle she was making of herself for weeks.

Turning her head the little witch slid her eyes in his direction.

She didn’t make eye contact.

The flush of embarrassment scorching her cheekbones told him she was perfectly aware he’d heard her comments.

The smile she aimed at Josh might melt the polar ice-cap, but it was the full lips painted a flame-red that nearly sent his temper into the stratosphere.

‘You two look as if you’re having a good time,’ he drawled in a silky voice.

He knew the words, the tone, would annoy her and he was right.

Rosie arrowed a glare at him. ‘Yes, we were having a good time.’

Of its own volition, his hand slid down over her glossy curls and under her hair to rest heavily on her bare shoulder. Her jolt replicated the one in his gut. Her tongue darted out to moisten her lower lip. His thumb rubbed her shoulder and he permitted the fierce dart of lust to spear through him. Her shiver made him feel marginally better too. She wasn’t immune to him, no matter what she’d said to Josh or how she was behaving.

And he had to wonder why the pretence? Just what was she up to?

His thumb continued to rub her flesh, the skin was so soft, so silky and again he felt that tiny shudder.

Then she laughed in response to something Josh said, the rich, throaty tone of a sexy woman who knew exactly what she was doing.

The sound did something to him, it poured erotic desire through his system.

His eyes locked with his friend’s to send a clear message.
Mine.

But instead of backing down, Josh met his gaze head on.

They eyed each other like boxers in the ring.

Oh no, this was so not going to happen.

Rosie was
his
.

The thought was like a cricket bat in the gut and Alexander found he couldn’t breathe.

Coherent speech seemed to have deserted him.

‘Would you like to join us for a drink?’ Josh asked him in a perfectly polite tone. But the message in his eyes was crystal clear.
Piss off
.

When Josh received no response, Rosie glanced up at him.

‘Alexander?’

He blinked and cleared his throat. ‘What?’

He tore his eyes from Josh and stared into her face, the fabulous vision that was Rosie. And it was as if he was seeing her clearly for the very first time.

‘I’m sorry, what?’

‘Are you feeling well? You’ve gone awfully pale,’ she told him with a wary look in her eyes. He read shame and embarrassment in those dark eyes too as an unknown emotion squeezed his lungs.

The need to get away, to think, had him babbling like a fool.

‘Ah, no thanks. I’ll leave you two to it. Have a nice evening.’

Rosie released a breath watching his tall frame as he strolled away, nodding to a couple of diners, lifting his hand at another.

Why had she called him a pretty boy when he was so obviously built? And if anyone was a real man it was Alexander. All of a sudden she felt terribly small and mean.

Alexander stopped to instruct a waiter who nodded, scribbled in a notebook then turned on his heel to do as he’d been told.

Her skin burned where he’d touched her and so did her conscience.

She’d been a bitch, disloyal to a man who’d always had her best interests at heart. And he’d heard her. She’d hurt him and that meant she must apologise. Or perhaps, the little voice offered sage advice, ignore it in spite of the risk of a rift between them. After all she was leaving soon, burning her bridges with him might not be such a bad idea. At least she could move on, go out on dates with nice men like Josh. She might even meet someone else and find love.

Josh cleared his throat and her eyes met his. ‘Are you okay?’

Cheeks burning, Rosie bit down hard on her bottom lip.

‘I think he might have heard what I said.’

‘He heard you,’ Josh told her in a cool voice.

The tone made shame burn even hotter.

All the fun and pleasure she’d found in the evening leaked away leaving in its wake a profound regret that she’d hurt and upset a man she cared deeply about for no good reason other than to take a swipe at him and protect her stupid pride. And not only that, she was actually considering not apologising because she was a total coward.

What on earth was the matter with her?

Alexander deserved better and how was she going to explain herself? He wouldn’t let it go. Alexander didn’t work like that. He liked to analyse, to pick things apart to see how and why they worked.

The thought of him digging deep into her psyche to find the reason for the things she said had her tremble in reaction.

And Josh was looking at her as if he’d never seen her before. Was that disappointment in those blue eyes?

‘Time to go?’ he asked, eyes steady on hers.

‘Yes.’

He stood and pulled out her chair.

As they walked to the car, he took her hand and squeezed her fingers.

The small gesture of comfort brought a sting to the back of Rosie’s eyes.

Forcing himself to walk instead of run, Alexander managed to have the presence of mind to stop a waiter and send over a bottle of wine on the house to a couple celebrating their wedding anniversary.

But when he reached his office, he locked the door and sank in a daze to the couch.

Cold sweat beaded on his forehead, above his lip and wormed down his back.

He scrubbed his hands over his cheeks.

Like an old movie memories of his many and varied feelings towards Rosie flickered through his mind.

They say the Universe sends a person a little nudge in the right direction. If you don’t heed it, the Universe sends you a push, then it throws a stone, then a brick, ever increasing signals until it stuns you with the reality of your situation.

Well he was stunned now all right.

How was it possible for a man to go through his entire life and not actually
see
someone?

He knew everything about Rosie.

He knew what made her tick. She was generous, loyal and giving. She was full of fun with a naughty sense of humour. He frowned. But she was also a stubborn, bad tempered, moody little witch at times. For years she’d driven him crazy. And he absolutely adored her.

Christ!

What to do?

The words she’d used to describe him still buzzed in his brain.

She would only have said those things if he’d hurt her in some way and the thought made him queasy.

She was so very angry with him.

He’d heard it in her voice, her tone.

She’d been downright nasty too and that was so unlike her. Why?

For the life of him, he couldn’t think of a single thing he’d done to her that would make her behave like this.

Women had never been a mystery to him. His reputation was a good one. He liked them as a species. He liked how they tasted. He liked how they smelled and how they felt under his hands.

He’d never knowingly hurt a woman. He’d never hunted for sex in his own backyard, that would have caused too many complications. The locals regarded him as someone who would marry a society beauty, someone from his own class. He’d no intention of doing anything of the sort, but he’d been happy to play along with everyone’s expectations and to take the easy road. He’d permitted people to make assumptions about him. Now his conscience asked him if that wasn’t simply another sort of lying?

There was no way he could just waltz up to Rosie and say,

‘Hi, baby. Guess what? You’re all mine!’

She’d tell him to go straight to hell and rightly so.

Not once had he ever given her a hint of his feelings.

And Bronte? What would she think? His sister would be happy if he was happy, he knew that. But this was Rosie, and Rosie was closer to Bronte than any sister. They were joined at the hip.

What if he had a relationship with Rosie and it ended in disaster?

There were no certainties in this world. If anyone knew that, he did. And he’d used stubborn pride and determination to cover the open sore of betrayal and disappointment, the legacy his parents had left him. But there was no point in digging over old dirt. It had almost killed him, the loss of every single thing he’d held dear, but he’d moved on.

He’d kept moving ahead, one step at a time, that’s how he’d survived.

Looking back he realised he’d sought Rosie out again and again. He couldn’t seem to help but drop in on her regularly to make sure she was okay, that the business was okay.

Temper spiked again when he recalled the way she’d said he was nearly forty. Bloody cheek. He was thirty-five. Did she really see him as too old? Seven years wasn’t much, was it? And he’d never used face products, apart from soap, water and cologne.

His temper went up another click.

He’d give her wax.

The car purred to a halt outside her home.

Rosie decided she’d deal with Alexander when he came to collect Julie’s cake. She’d apologise and hope that would be the end of the matter.

Desperately trying to ignore the fist of guilt twisting in her gut, she turned to Josh with a tentative smile.

‘Would you like to come in for a coffee?’

‘I would love to.’