Now they were all gone, leaving him alone with Rosalind at last.
“That went well.” Her genuine smile made all the trouble he’d gone through to get the Cup here so worth it. He’d have planned a hundred more such events if he could get her to smile like that. Funny how things worked out. A month or more ago, he’d had visions of a wild pool party and drinking champagne from the Cup, maybe even add a blonde or two.
“Yeah, it did. You are a master planner.”
She laughed and crossed the room to where he sat on the overstuffed leather couch. She leaned down and kissed him, and he kissed her back, taking his time. He nibbled at her plump lower lip and gave her some tongue. In a matter of seconds, she was on his lap, and they were engaging in one of their hot makeout sessions. He couldn’t help thinking about how he’d done very little making out with women in his adult life. He’d been more about getting to the main course than wasting time on a lot of preliminaries. Yet with Rosalind, he loved all of it, not just the sex part.
“Hot tub?” he asked hopefully. The old mansion had a new hot tub on a deck that hung out over the water. Clothes wouldn’t be necessary. In fact, he planned on making nudity a requirement. He’d said no sex was part of the agreement, but that didn’t mean a guy couldn’t indulge in everything else. If she chose to break the no-sex rule, who was he to complain?
Rosalind regarded him with mock suspicion. “You just want to get me naked.”
“Of course.” He faked an evil leer, which had her laughing. God, he loved her laugh. He loved her smile. He even loved it when she scowled at him. She couldn’t look mean no matter how hard she tried, but her attempts were fucking adorable. “So how about it?” He was already stripping off his clothes.
She rolled her eyes but kicked off her shoes and unbuttoned her blouse. Within seconds they’d left their clothes in two messy piles on the library floor. Condom in hand, he grinned at her, his gaze traveling her sexy little body.
“Last one in…” she shouted and raced him to the hot tub, and he let her win because what man in his right mind wouldn’t want a rear view of her naked butt and gorgeous thighs?
She jumped in with a huge splash, getting him wet, and he did the same to her. He pulled her to him, positioning her so that she was straddling his thighs. He slid his hands around her waist and slid them upward until he was thumbing one of her delectable nipples. She groaned and rubbed her lower body against his. Alex bent his head and ran his tongue over her nipple. It tasted of her, and he sucked more deeply, using his tongue to stroke as he sucked.
“Alex,” she pleaded. “I can’t take much more of this.”
“I can,” he said wickedly. Not because he could but because he loved torturing her when she was hot for him. He moved to the other nipple, despite her protest, and gave it the same treatment while she writhed on top of him.
So much for no sex. That agreement hadn’t lasted long.
~ ~ ~ ~
Alex’s day with the Cup came too soon, because with it came the certain knowledge he’d soon be returning to Seattle. Rosalind refused to think about bad things on this incredibly good day. The line for getting a picture with Alex and the Cup was out the door and disappeared around the block. A large jar suggesting a donation of five dollars for the Orca Preservation Fund was overflowing and had to be emptied twice so far. Both cash registers operated by her mom and Clarissa in the store were burning up with sales. Rosalind hadn’t had much time to pay attention to book sales, but now that everything was running smoothly, and her volunteers were handling the bulk of the work, she was able to take a well-earned breather.
The last few weeks had been a whirlwind of activity, planning, and bonding with Alex. She smiled fondly as her gaze settled on him. He sat at the autograph table, taking the time to speak to each person, grinning for photos, and signing until his hand had to be falling off. Her heart swelled with pride as he made everyone feel as if they were the most important person in the world. Alex was special, and she’d never find another like him. He was nothing like his reputation. Not one bit. She could be deluding herself, but she didn’t believe she was. Alex was one of the good guys, even if he had hung out in wolf’s clothing for the majority of his adult life.
She harbored a teensy bit of hope they might continue their relationship after he returned to Seattle. But today wasn’t about the future, today was about having fun, giving back to the community, raising money for a good cause, and building up the store’s business. Tainting today with thoughts of her future was not to be.
Alex met her gaze and winked. She winked back as a happy smile crossed her face. Life didn’t get better than this.
Rosalind made her way to the cash register, curious to see how things were going. She’d been so busy, she hadn’t had a chance to check in. If the lines in front of the two registers were any indication, things were going spectacularly.
As she squeezed past throngs of people, a display near the head of the line caught her eye. The round table was stacked high with books? She didn’t recall giving her permission for a display such as this. She couldn’t afford such extensive inventory. She edged closer.
Local Author Rosalind Newcomb writing as RoAnn James was displayed on the large poster hanging over the table complete with her picture surrounded by several book covers.
Rosalind gaped at the poster in horror. Her feet were frozen to the floor and the room swam in front of her face. Who would’ve done this? It had to be a cruel joke she’d never live down. She glanced around wildly, assessing who was present in the crowded room. Tons of islanders milled about or stood in lines. She knew the majority of them. Several of her friends and acquaintances stood near the table of books, thumbing through them, making comments about the hot, shirtless guys on the covers. Rosalind had never been so mortified in her entire life.
She was so screwed. Her gaze swung to Alex. He was busy signing autographs and completely oblivious to her plight. She was going to kill him.
“Rosalind, I had no idea you wrote romance novels.” Erma waved one of her hockey romances in front of her face, featuring a buff, shirtless model with his low-riding jeans unzipped just above his pubic hairline. Behind Erma, Rushton smirked. He raked his gaze over her and back to the open book in his hand.
“Shall I read a few passages?” he offered with a sinister smile. “Rosalind, my dear, you’ve been holding out on us. No wonder your boyfriend was defending romance novels and suggested we read this book in our book club.”
Rosalind cringed. Part of her wanted to crawl in a hole and the other part wanted to rise up and defend her writing and her genre.
“Oh my God, Rosalind. I love your books,” said Penelope, another book club member, elbowing her. “You must have a great time practicing in private.”
“Just because I write about it, doesn’t mean I do it myself.”
Someone jostled Rosalind from behind, freeing her from any further humiliation.
“Roz, dear, would you please sign this for me?”
Rosalind looked into the eyes of Hattie Oldfield, a longtime resident and single senior.
“I had no idea you wrote romance novels. I love them.”
Seconds later, a man grabbed her elbow and led her to the table where Alex sat. She recognized him as Alex’s agent. He whistled loudly, calling for the crowd’s attention.
Alex rose to his feet and surveyed the room, his dazzling gaze landing on Rosalind. His smile was different than the dazzling one he’d bestowed on the crowd, more private and intimate and just for her. Despite her distress over the books, her body reacted with hot desire. Rosalind was shaken and off-balance. Her world had been tipped upside down and nothing made sense.
“I’d like everyone’s attention,” Alex said in a booming voice. The room grew relatively quiet. He wrapped his arm around her. Under other circumstances, she would’ve leaned into his hard body and gained a measure of comfort from him. This time, she didn’t.
“Thank you for helping me celebrate m
y day with the Cup and supporting the orcas. We’ve raised over twenty thousand to help the whales thanks to all of you. None of this would have been possible without Rosalind Newcomb’s meticulous planning and attention to detail.”
Following Alex’s lead, the crowd clapped loudly. Alex sat down and his agent took the floor.
“We have an extra surprise for you today. We also have a local romance author present. RoAnn James, who’ll be signing books.”
Murmurs of surprise swept through the crowd. All heads turned to the large display dominating the room and the oversized poster hanging from the ceiling. Rosalind prayed the floor would open up and jettison her downward into Chinook Channel and sweep her out to sea.
“Check out RoAnn’s books, which happen to be hockey romances. You can even have both of us sign them. For every book you buy, we’ll personally donate five dollars to the orcas. Thank you, everyone, and have a great day!”
The crowd cheered and converged on the display of books, while Clarissa rushed to replenish their stock as quickly as she could.
Alex grabbed her arm. “I didn’t know he was going to do this. I swear I didn’t.” His voice was strangled with fear.
She twisted out of his hold. She needed air, and she needed it now. The packed bookstore was crushing her and claustrophobia clawed at her. She had to get out of here.
“I—I’m not feeling well. I’ll be right back.” Rosalind was going to be sick. She pushed her way through the crowd, ignoring the annoyed glares, and went outside.
The last thing she glimpsed was the shocked expression on Alex’s face.
~ ~ ~ ~
Alex didn’t have time to ponder what had just happened. He hadn’t noticed the big display because it was across the store. He’d been late getting here as usual, so he hadn’t looked around either. Shit. There was going to be hell to pay for this.
His agent had purchased over a thousand of her books, and the team’s PR people had helped with the display. How they’d found out about her pen name and concocted this entire plan was beyond him.
A half hour later, Rosalind returned, head held high, and a fake smile plastered on her face. His agent ushered her to the other end of the signing table, where several people had been waiting patiently for her return. She sat down, and Clarissa placed several stacks of books near her. Between them was the Stanley Cup guarded by its ever-present Keeper of the Cup and effectively blocking his ability to see or talk to her. He rose to catch a glimpse of her face. She appeared shell-shocked and in a fog, but she went through the motions of signing without a complaint. He caught a few snide comments from some of the attendees regarding her books and shot each offender a withering glare, effectively shutting them up.
Settling back down in his seat, Alex concentrated on signing autographs and posing for pictures for the next few hours.
He barely had time to breathe. The crowds finally began to dwindle late afternoon. Several teenage and older females gathered in small gangs, giggling and casting hungry looks in his direction. He was downright uncomfortable and ready to end this. His face muscles were exhausted from the hours of smiling required by such an event.
The local media had packed up and headed home. MaryAnn ushered the last of the stragglers through the line as dusk settled on the small town. Even the gaggles of women gave up and allowed her to escort them from the building.
Alex stood and stretched as MaryAnn locked the door behind the final fan. The Keeper of the Cup began his routine of packing his prized possession, while workers roamed around the store, tidying bookshelves, picking up trash, and putting the store back to rights.
Alex searched for Rosalind. She’d slipped away while he was discussing a few business items with his agent. He approached her mother.
“Where is Roz?”
“She’s in the back room. I screwed up. I mentioned her books to the Sockeyes PR staff. I had no idea they’d turn it into something like this until I walked in and saw it. By then it was too late.”
“Does Roz know you told them?”
“I haven’t had a chance to apologize.”
“I’ll talk to her. Calm her down. It actually went well, and she sold a ton of books.” Feeling a bit like he was walking to his execution, Alex made his way through the messy aftermath of the event to the back room.
She was sitting on a stack of boxes staring at her phone.
“Hey, Roz, that was crazy, wasn’t it?” He kept his tone light and reached out to touch her. She jerked away from him and glared, her brown eyes blazing.
“How could you do that to me?”
“I—I…didn’t.” He’d expected her to be a little mad, but she was furious.
“You know how strongly I feel about keeping my pen name a secret. You revealed it, not only to this island but the entire world. The Seattle media was there, and now my picture with you is plastered all over the internet. Have you seen the headlines?”
“No, I—”
She shoved the phone in his face. “How about this one? ‘Sockeyes’ Girlfriend Pens Steamy Romance Novels.’ And this one?” She swiped at the phone to bring up another screen. “‘NHL’s Party Boy Gives Girlfriend Plenty to Write About.’ Or this? ‘Party Boy Rush Stars Between the Pages of Romance Novels.’”
“That’s good publicity. Welcome to my life, Roz. It’ll die down.” He tried to make light of the situation. She was blowing it out of proportion. The staff had made an innocent mistake.
She tossed the phone onto a counter and propped her fisted hands on her hips. “Easy for you to say. You like being the center of attention. I. Do. Not. This is a nightmare of epic proportions. What did you think was going to happen?”
“I didn’t know they were going to do this.”
“How did they find out I wrote RoAnn books if you didn’t tell them?”
“I didn’t tell them, but you are a good writer. Be proud of your work.”
“People think I do those things I write about in my books, especially since I’ve been photographed with you.”
Alex frowned. She’d just insulted him. “What’s that supposed to mean? And who gives a fuck what people think?”
“Obviously not you. But I do.”
Damn, she’d just thrown him another hard punch to the gut. “I care what you think,” he said softly, but his big admission didn’t allay her anger one bit.
“You’re wrong. After this stunt today, you’ve proven how much you truly care, and I call bullshit.”
“Roz, do you really think I would do this to you? While I might not agree with you, I did know how you felt about keeping your pen name secret.”
“If you didn’t do it, who did?”
“I did,” said her mother from the doorway.
Rosalind spun around and shook her head in disbelief. “Mom, why? Why would you?”
“I only mentioned it in passing to the PR staff. I didn’t know they’d done this.”
“They didn’t discuss the plans with anyone?”
“Uh…” Now it was Alex’s turn to be sheepish. “They sent me a presentation, but I didn’t really take the time to look at it. I just approved it.”
“You approved it without looking at it? You didn’t check out their plan? You—you—” She was steaming, make that boiling hot, so pissed her entire body shook.
He shrugged and held out his hands palm up. “I’m not a planner.”
“Tell me about it.”
“I think I’ll leave you two alone.” MaryAnn backed out of the storeroom and shut the door.
“Please, don’t be mad. We can fix this. All is not lost.” Alex was a fighter. He didn’t give up easily. He wanted her forgiveness. He didn’t want to end this thing.
“You’re going back to Seattle in a few weeks. Neither of us have discussed the elephant in the room. What happens then?”
“You could move to Seattle with me, write full-time—”
“You don’t really mean that.” She met his gaze. While the anger was still an ember in
those brown eyes, sorrow filled them with unshed tears.
He hesitated. Did he mean that? The words had tumbled out without a thought of what he was committing to do.
“Do you love me?” she asked.
Again, he couldn’t answer because he didn’t know.
“Do you love me?” she repeated.
“Roz.” He swallowed, cleared his throat, shifted his weight from one foot to another, and tried like hell to think his way out of this. He reached for her, and she jerked away from him.
Her expression hardened with conviction. “You were my summer fling. I tried to fool myself that it was more than that.”
“And you don’t trust me. You think I would do that to you knowing how you feel?” he shot back, unable to suppress the urge to hurt her like she was hurting him.
“Should I trust you? You can’t tell me about your family, and you can’t say you love me. Leave, please, just leave.”
“So that’s it? Just like that? We’re through?” His entire world began to cave in on him. He couldn’t breathe, wanted to claw at his throat, try to gulp in some air. He saw her through a haze of fear and hurt. Like a wounded animal, he struck back. “You used me as much as I used you.”
“You used me?” Her lower lip quivered, and her breath hitched, but to her credit, she held it together. “Go back to Seattle, Alex. Go back to your life and leave me to lick my wounds in mine.” Her voice was deadly calm.
“That’s really what you want?” He spoke in barely a whisper, his own voice husky and raw with emotion. That frozen heart she’d thawed drip by drip had gone back in the deep freeze, even though parts of it would never recover.
Deflected: Game On in Seattle (Seattle Sockeyes Book 9) Page 17
