WindSwept Narrows: #15 Rose Maddock

by Diroll-Nichols, Karen

  Rose waited a few seconds before trying to make her legs work again, shaking hands braced beneath the spray a few minutes more before she shut off the water and pulled the large, fluffy towel into the stall with her. He’d left it for her. A part of her was puzzled at the silence. He hadn’t been silent through the night. They had laughed and talked like kids all night long.

  She entered the large bedroom, their clothing from the night before draped over one of the chairs and her pack sat on the bed, waiting for her. She raked the feathered hair back with both hands, letting it fall into place as she dug out the clean underwear from her pack, dressing quickly and ignoring the green dress lying on the chair. She didn’t want to shove it into her pack. She carried her shoes into the other room, dropping to sit on the sofa and tie them into place.

  Still nothing. He stood facing the patio doors, staring into the grey, slowly rising morning. She could smell the coffee and saw steam rising from the large cup in his hand, the other shoved deeply into his pocket. Rose moved cautiously to his side, her hand out to touch his arm lightly. He hadn’t dressed past his slacks, the long, silky hair tied neatly back in the thin leather string.

  “Ryan? Are you alright?”

  “Fine.”

  “You’re quiet. What’s wrong?”

  “I said I’m fine, Rose. Nothing…did I hurt you?” He turned to peer into a pair of sparkling amber eyes and felt himself slammed hard in the gut again. He’d known she was innocent. He’d known she might be hurt, sore at the very least. Yet nothing in him wanted to stop from taking her repeatedly.

  “I...hurt me?” Rose blinked curiously, her head shaking and palm out to touch his face. But he took a step back. She felt a sting, her hand falling to her side as she tried to read the deep blue eyes. “In the shower?”

  “Yes, Rose, in the shower,” his voice hard and flat. “Or in the bed…”

  “I’ve got to admit to never having a shower like that before,” she exhaled slowly, her head shaking again. “You don’t think I’m strong enough to protest and even fight if you were hurting me? Or if it was something I didn’t want to happen?”

  “You’ve no experience…”

  “I’m a little new at this whole thing,” she agreed very slowly, unable to gauge what was going on in his mind this morning. “And my…muscles are stiff…but I’m alright, Ryan.”

  “And I’m old enough to have better manners,” he bit out, angry at his behavior, angry at the control she seemed capable of crushing with a smile.

  “I’m really confused right now…” She backed up slowly, her head shaking. Sweater in one hand, pack in the other, she went toward the door. “You did not hurt me in the shower. You pissed me off with the cold water, but I recovered and responded to…to you, Ryan. To your touch and your passion and to us. Now…when you figure out what in the world is wrong inside your head, you let me know. I’ve got to get to work,” Rose was still shaking her head as she moved quickly out of the room and toward the elevator, passing by the controls and taking the stairs two at a time until she was outside inhaling deeply of the fresh, cool morning.

  She didn’t hear the strong curse that left his lips or the very solid palm he slapped on the counter before striding to the bedroom to finish dressing. The very first thing catching his attention was the emerald green dress lying over one of the back of the cushioned chair; small black heels lay on their sides on the floor. Her scent wafted threw him.

  It was like walking point blank into a brick wall.

  He couldn’t remember the last time a woman had spent the night with him, at his insistence. No, practically at his demand, he corrected flatly. Some part of him expected the desire, the need for her to vanish with the light of day. But it had only gotten stronger, more vital that he have her, possess her. And she had willingly returned the passion.

  So what the hell was he pissed off about? Shouted a loud voice inside him, snapping a tie off the hanger, hands working it without thinking about what he was doing. He thought about his conversations with Jean Paul, thought about the feelings that were foreign to him that had crashed and exploded inside him because of Rose Maddock. Another part of him was angered that the focus he dealt to his projects seemed keener, more intent and more centered.

  It was eleven when he walked into the florist shop outside the temporary office building, making his request and scrawling over the pristine white card before tucking it into the small envelope.

  In between batches, Rose had been struggling to reconstruct their morning encounter. There had been laughter and plenty of passion and nothing to explain how things had gone cold and even angry. Too many times through the morning she had to stop and close her eyes, drawing in a long, steadying breath before shoving him out of her mind enough to do her job.

  She returned from grabbing a sandwich, unconsciously aware of people glancing at her and smiling. Oddly, she thought suspiciously. It wasn’t until she rounded the corner to her large space that the brilliant collection of flowers sitting in the center of her desk explained the looks she had been getting. She hadn’t seen that many different and bright flowers in one place outside a vendor at the marketplace. And the smell was amazing. She leaned closer, eyes closed and just breathed.

  Star lilies, orange roses, pink roses, carnations and even daisies. Rose sunk into her chair and just stared, her fingers holding the unopened envelope between them. Her lip pulled between her teeth, she slid the small white card out.

  “My sincerest apologies. Trying to understand myself. Court time five? Please.”

  Rose stared at the private cell number he had included, pulling her phone out and tapping it in. Not trusting her voice, she sent him a text after securing the court for them.

  “Court time set for five.”

  She tossed the phone into her pack and moved the flowers to the side, lifted her headset over her ears and tapped up some loud distracting music while she prepared batches for balance.

  Ryan heard the thick sigh from his own lips when he approached the court. He didn’t blame her at all for the wariness inside the tawny eyes. Nor did he have a right to protest when she turned and went into the enclosed court without speaking to him. She went to the far corner, setting her bag out of the way and pulling the wrist guard on, snapping it into place before lifting the racquet, spinning it, gripping it and swinging before moving to stand at the line, the small blue ball bounced experimentally in the quiet room.

  “Rose…”

  “Have you worked up a decent story yet?” She interrupted tonelessly.

  “I have no story,” he pushed through his teeth. “And I’m not convinced I even have a decent explanation to offer at the moment.” He still didn’t know why she mattered so much. Didn’t have a grasp on why it was vital she understand what was crashing around in his head, but he knew he’d find a way.

  “Then don’t talk until you do,” she instructed, bounced the ball once before sending it soaring across the room and into the wall.

  Rose literally threw herself into the game, partly studying how he played and how she responded to his shots. A big difference, she realized, was that he went after the shots he wanted, while she waited for the ball to come to her.

  Well, she mused thoughtfully. Time for a little game improvement. She let her eyes and body track the ball, track him and move herself into positions to take the ball in a different angle, a more difficult angle that sent her arm soaring into the air at the final point of the first game.

  Ryan went to his own corner. Like boxers, his mind shot out as he pulled the frosty bottle and downed a good part of it. His gaze slanted toward her. She was resting on her heels, head back and eyes closed.

  “You’re altering your game.”

  “I’m evolving,” she returned, her tone matching his. Low but lacking the slight swerve of curious that his held.

  “You’re pissed.”

  “I’m confused,” she returned sharply, standing up and tossing the ball to him. “Your serve.”
>
  “If it matters, so am I.”

  “Oh goodie…we’re at least on the same page tonight.”

  “Rose…”

  “Serve, Ryan,” she looked straight ahead, knowing how her next comment would be received. “And stop holding back.”

  “Holding…the bloody hell I am!”

  “Maybe you’re afraid I can’t take it…’cause I’m just a weak, little girl…”

  “Rose…”

  “Never get provoked,” she warned, watching the ball slice through the air toward her. “And stop holding back. I can bloody well hold my own,” she growled without looking at him.

  Half way through the game Rose decided she had a secret death wish that only recently came to light.

  Or a serious insanity glitch in her brain.

  Or both. The only upside, was that he was indeed provoked and did make a few errors that cost him a point. But not nearly enough.

  And he definitely was not holding back any longer.

  Rose almost burst out laughing at a couple of the shots he worked hard to make, her own choices equally insane, she realized, breathing a long sigh of gratitude when the buzzer sounded that their time was up. She fell to her knees and hung her head for a long minute before dragging herself to her bag, draining the bottle of water she had and heading for the door, dripping sweat and ignoring everyone around her. They had evidently gathered a little crowd of on-lookers as they played out their frustrations.

  “Rose…” His voice was hoarse and he was positive he had muscles screaming that he never knew he had before.

  “I’m soaking in the hot tub,” she met his eyes without blinking, which wasn’t easy considering most of her dripped sweat. “You’re welcome to join me.” She shoved the door to the woman’s lockers open and went inside, barely making it to the bench before her knees told her she was losing it. She sunk down on the cool, thick bench, legs straight out and body bent in half, her head almost touching the floor.

  Chapter Six

  If she lived to be ninety, she’d never provoke him again.

  She shoved clothes into the locker and tugged the swimsuit up her legs before going to stand beneath the spray. It was hot and soothing and her legs really didn’t want to move but she forced them to head toward the outer area where the pool and hot tubs were located. Snatching up a thick towel on the way, her breath caught at the coolness in the air as she stepped into the huge chlorine scented area.

  Rose drew in a long, slow breath when she spotted him across the damp ground, hooking his towel on a hook. He’d chosen the further tub, away from people, should any decide to use the area this evening. The man seriously had a sexy male body and parts of her was recalling their night, a tingle shooting through her at the memories. He still had his hair tied back and he seemed to know she was there, turning and watching her move toward him. She swallowed hard. He wore simple black thigh length trunks, a triangle of dark hair rising from his waist, over his chest. His body glistened with the shower he’d stood beneath.

  “Are you pleased with yourself?” He asked quietly, moving to the stairs and striding into the bubbling water. An involuntary sigh broke free, his eyes closed for a long grateful second. He didn’t try and stop caressing her with his narrowed gaze, amazed at the conflict with kissing her and shaking her. Water glistened off her as she had moved toward him, her hair swept back and eyes watchful.

  “In all honesty, yes,” Rose didn’t shy from his gaze. He wasn’t glaring. If she had to label the look, it was guarded and very well controlled. “Of course, another part of me is ready to sign the papers to have me committed.” She was quiet for a long minute, settling into the hot water and laying her head back. “The flowers are beautiful, Ryan, thank you.”

  “They reminded me of the garden we sat in the day we met,” he said softly.

  “My office smells like a garden…it’s nice…” she answered, a little polite, a little uncertain. “I liked your friends. Renee’ is a little younger than I thought…but she’s sweet and is very excited about the business partnership.”

  “Jean Paul is a few years older than me,” Ryan relaxed a little. “He met Renee’ when she was in college…he said he never had a chance. Before he knew it, he was convinced there wasn’t a worthy life without her to brighten it.”

  “Did he fight it?” She asked softly, lifting her head and staring at him on the other side of the large tub.

  “He did,” Ryan recalled with a laugh. “He went through a list of excuses, top of the mark, their ages.”

  “How long did he make them both suffer before he came to his senses?”

  He held his breath, two hands up and rubbing over his face.

  “No punches pulled, Rose?”

  “Is that what this morning was about? You suddenly felt a noose around your freedom, your cosmopolitan way of life?” She couldn’t stop the pain from showing in her eyes. “I didn’t ask for anything from you, Ryan. Not your time, not your…your attention…not your presents. And I certainly will not take anything from you that you aren’t willing to give.”

  “And it doesn’t frighten you?” He leaned forward, too aware of the sudden rush of pain to her eyes.

  “I wouldn’t be very bright if I said it didn’t…I don’t understand it,” she brought her tongue out, spreading moisture over her lips. “What would you have done if I had said no to the match tonight?”

  Ryan shoved against the back of the tub, his head tilted back and eyes closed. “Paced. Been pissed. Probably chewed a few heads in the project that didn’t deserve it…stormed your office in the morning and found a way to make you hear me out.”

  “Alright. I’m here. If you don’t want me in your life, then why would you do that? Just turn around and walk away,” she heard her voice shake and pulled her lips tightly together, turning from him and leaning over the edge of the tub. “For both our sakes, Ryan, turn around and leave. I need honesty.”

  “I spent four hours this morning trying to do just that and never got an answer to why,” he said thoughtfully, softly. “I’m not sure what I feel…I’m not sure why it scares the hell out of me, Rose. This morning…I believed it would be gone,” he admitted flatly. “How’s that for honesty?”

  Rose turned around slowly, blinking and shaking her head.

  “That isn’t what you said last night,” she whispered. “But that was passion. Once your head cleared…once you had your fill…” She looked down at the wrist abruptly grasped and pulled, their faces inches apart. “Last night it wasn’t temporary…or a one night stand…”

  She wasn’t prepared for his kiss. His mouth closed over hers, firmly and hungrily. She wasn’t prepared for the sensations coursing through her, sending her heart pinging excitedly. Scenes of their night swept through her like a spring storm, reminding her, showing her how it had been.

  “It’s not fair…stop, Ryan…please…” Rose pushed against him, turning her head and refusing to open her eyes.

  “No…it’s not fair…but for the moment, it has both of us caught in the spiral,” he whispered, gently nudging her mouth back to his. He urged her onto his lap, cradled her in his arms and groaned into the moisture edging her lashes. “Rose…sweet Rose…I’m sorry…” He brushed his mouth over her forehead. “We’re wrinkling, Rose…let’s go to the room.”

  She peered at him, rubbing one palm over her face where the tears had slid. “No…I can’t go through another morning like today. I won’t.”

  “Dinner. I ordered in and it’s waiting for us,” he told her, climbing to his feet and leading her from the tub. He lifted one of the thick towels and wrapped her with it. “I’ll wait for you in the hall. Just dinner, Rose. I won’t ask for more. But I need to be with you.” And he kicked at himself for feeling weak at that admission.

  “Let me get my things,” Rose wandered into the dressing rooms, pulled things from her locker and scowled. She had to get home and get some clean clothes before morning.

  She smacked herself.
/>   She had no intentions of spending the night in his bed.

  Dinner and home. Firm. The scowl was still in place when she went into the hall, vaguely aware of the single dark brow that arched as she approached him.

  “Problem?” Ryan fell into step with her, his palm gliding down her arm until their fingers twined.

  “Of course not. Dinner and I’m going home. Period. I need clean clothing,” she informed him loftily.

  “Alright,” he didn’t fight the amusement at the expression she was struggling with. “Are you worried I’ll seduce you, Rose?”

  “You could if that’s what you wanted,” she said quietly. Mostly because I enjoyed it a great deal, she told herself with an inner groan.

  “I could…but not because I’m good, but because I’m falling in love with you,” he replied, meeting the stunned, round amber circles. “I worked it out while I was dressing. Oft times the heart simply doesn’t communicate properly with the brain it seems. And very probably I wasn’t prepared for those words.”

  Rose felt her mouth open and close. Several times before she just swallowed and shook her head, barely aware of them entering the elevator, hand in hand. Unaware of people watching them and smiling. People she knew. People she’d never seen before. What did they think? What did they see? Just a couple returning to their room after a stint in the gym.

  “Nothing to say?”

  “I’m sure it’ll pass,” she murmured, frowning when he laughed, his fingers tightening and raising her hand to his lips.

  “It’s an…annoying sensation to be out of control,” he began slowly, unlocking the door and gesturing her inside. “That’s what was wrong this morning. I’m not accustomed to it at all.”

  “Losing control? You think you were out of control last night?”

  “Aye…” He tapped the switch plate on the wall that had the fireplace reacting to his request. He didn’t stop the smile that touched his lips when she realized what was spread on the floor. She talked of enjoying picnics on the beach. “Caring about a person isn’t about control, though, is it, Rose?”