Texas Rose

by Marie Ferrarella

  “Maybe we should go somewhere else,” he said huskily.

  Rose pressed her lips together, savoring the taste of him. It wouldn’t do, she thought ruefully, to say that the somewhere else she wanted to go was back to the apartment, to slip into her room and wait for him to come in once they were sure that Aunt Beth was either asleep or out for the evening.

  It wouldn’t do—but she wanted to. With all her heart, she wanted to.

  He wanted to take her to her apartment and make love to her, so slowly that both of them would literally ignite from the heat of the anticipation. But saying so would probably scare her off, so instead, he went the safer route, hoping to lay further groundwork in the right direction.

  “How about dinner, and then a ride around Central Park in one of those horse-drawn buggies like your aunt suggested?”

  “Carriage tours,” she corrected.

  “Right.” He took the correction in stride. “One of those.”

  She remembered that she’d originally suggested bringing her aunt along. She didn’t want to anymore. But maybe he did. She slanted a look toward him. “With or without Aunt Beth?”

  Matt touched her face softly, his eyes telling her the things that were in his heart, the way he couldn’t yet. “What do you think?”

  The smile came slowly, then picked up pace until her mouth curved completely. “I guess I’m not going home to change.”

  “Don’t change a thing,” he murmured against her ear. His hand to her back, Matt nudged her toward the curb, then his other hand shot up as he saw an available cab approaching in the distance. Leaving her on the curb, he got out in front of the vehicle before the cabbie had the opportunity to ignore him.

  “You’re starting to behave like a native,” Rose noted with a laugh as the cab came to an abrupt halt.

  Matt held the rear door open for her. “Hey, I’m flexible. Remember?” he whispered in her ear as she got in and sat down.

  She slid over, making room for him. She remembered how flexible his body was when they’d made love. “I guess you are at that.”

  Flexible was definitely the word, she thought, going with the normal meaning. What other man would have swallowed his pride and followed her out here? Would have gone through the trouble of finding out where she was in the first place? Rose knew that her whereabouts weren’t common knowledge, other than to her family. And she couldn’t picture Matt waltzing up to the door of the Wainwright ranch house to ask her father or brother where she was. Not without sustaining bodily harm. Especially if either one of them should suspect that Matt and she had been sleeping together.

  Which meant that he had to have gone to a lot of trouble to search her out.

  The thought made her smile.

  Matt cocked his head, trying to fathom the enigmatic look on her face. “What?”

  “Just how did you find out where I was staying?”

  He supposed he could make up something to impress her, but he’d always found that going with the truth was the simplest thing to do. Lies, even invented for a good cause, could trip you up later. He didn’t want anything to trip him with Rose.

  “From Daisy, that new bartender at the Lone Star Country Club’s Men’s Grill. When I asked if she’d seen you, she mentioned that you’d been there for a last look around before you went to New York. Then I remembered that you had an aunt living here.”

  It had been a little more complicated than that, but he didn’t want to go into it. There was no point in her knowing that he’d braved the Internet to find out where Beth lived. Or that it had taken him twelve tries to get the information.

  Rose clearly was impressed. In her experience, most men didn’t listen. “And you remembered her name?”

  He’d discovered that when he thought about it, he remembered everything that came out of Rose’s mouth.

  “I remember a lot of things,” he said vaguely.

  Even after several pep talks from Beth, Matt didn’t know how much he should let Rose know and how much to hold back. Damn, but he hated these games. Hated being so unsure about his next move.

  The only thing he knew for sure was that being away from Rose tore up his gut and hurt like hell. Did that mean that he was in love with her? The lasting kind of love that people built commitments on? That they built marriages on?

  He didn’t know.

  Or maybe he did and was just too scared to admit it, even to himself.

  Disgusted, the cabbie twisted around in his seat, pushing his N.Y. Mets cap far back on his head, revealing a large section of shining bald head.

  “Look, I hate to break up this lovely conversation you two are having, but where to?” His hand was poised over the meter flag. He clearly intended to pull it down whether or not they were quick to give him a location.

  Rose looked at Matt expectantly.

  “Your choice,” he said to her.

  So far, they’d had Chinese food, Thai food, gone to a steak house, a seafood restaurant and sampled Cajun food. All, except the steak house, at her behest. It was his turn to choose, she thought.

  “What do you feel like having, Matt?”

  You, was his immediate response, but he made it silently. He knew that the answer wouldn’t have gone over well at the moment, not with the beefy cabbie with two day’s worth of beard on his face still leering at them. “Surprise me,” Matt told her.

  Thinking of the ride around the perimeter of Central Park, Rose gave the driver the name and address of a restaurant located near the Plaza Hotel, where the carriages usually clustered.

  Settling back in her seat, she looked at Matt. “Tonight we’re having Italian.”

  Tonight, he hoped, he was having her. If pressed, he could have recounted the seconds since they’d last made love. He hadn’t known then that the following day she would be telling him that she was tired of their relationship, tired of him. She certainly hadn’t acted tired of him that last afternoon they’d shared. She’d been warm and supple in his arms, like sunshine that had been captured, only to be released to flow over every part of him.

  She could hardly eat. Though she normally adored chicken tetrazzini, facing it in person and coaxing the forkfuls into her mouth turned out to be another matter. Rose felt as if her entire stomach had turned into one huge knot.

  This time, she didn’t think the baby had anything to do with it.

  This time it was anticipation. It was as if she was a time bomb set to go off. She just didn’t know where and she didn’t know when. All she knew was that it involved Matt.

  She glanced at him now. He’d almost finished his dinner. At least one of them could eat, she thought ruefully.

  “How is everything tonight?” the slim-waisted, even slimmer-hipped waiter asked fifteen minutes after delivering their order. He looked at Rose’s plate and his smile faded slightly. Hands joined together, he stopped just short of wringing them. “Is the meal not to your liking, ma’am?”

  Someone had worked hard to prepare this. She looked at her plate, her sense of empathy kicking in and making her feel guilty.

  “Oh, no, the meal is wonderful. Really,” she added when he looked doubtful.

  “I’m afraid I’m just not as hungry as I thought.”

  The waiter nodded. “I could have it wrapped up for you to take home,” he offered.

  She knew that Beth would enjoy this as a midnight snack, or have it first thing in the morning. Beth did not believe in traditional breakfast fare as the first meal of the day.

  Rose gestured toward the plate. “That would be very nice, thank you.”

  “I guess you don’t want dessert, then, either,” Matt said.

  Dessert made her think of ice cream. And ice cream reminded her of the time when they’d gone on a picnic and Matt had dribbled a little of his ice cream onto her arm, then licked it off.

  Slowly.

  Heat shot through her as if it had been fired from a well-aimed gun.

  “Ice cream,” she said suddenly, then looked at the depart
ing waiter, who paused when he heard her place her order. “Please.”

  He smiled, inclining his perfectly combed head. “Certainly. What flavor?”

  She tried not to look at Matt and wasn’t sure if she was successful in her effort. “Vanilla.”

  Out of the corner of her eye, she thought she detected a hint of a smile on Matt’s face, but she wasn’t sure.

  A full moon was out to greet them when they finally left the restaurant. The air was incredibly still. The stickiness that hugged the city had abated, but only marginally. It was a short walk to the Plaza Hotel, where they found a fleet of carriages with magnificently groomed horses and regally attired drivers all waiting to aid a couple in finding a romantic end to a wonderful evening.

  Matt picked a carriage and held her hand as she climbed in before taking his place beside her.

  All the sounds of the city took a back seat to the steady clip-clop of the chestnut bay’s hooves along the path.

  The gentle swaying of the carriage was incredibly soothing. Sitting beside Matt had the exact opposite effect for Rose. The two sensations complemented each other.

  Rose let her guard down just enough to rest her head on Matt’s shoulder. She sighed. This was perfect, just perfect.

  “Did I thank you for saving me?” she asked, her voice dreamy.

  “Twice.” Unable to resist, he pressed a kiss to her forehead. She couldn’t fault him for that, he reasoned. Not after she’d kissed him on the mouth earlier. “But you can do it again if it makes you feel good.”

  Rose stifled a giggle that came out of nowhere. She shifted her head to look up at him. Matt was smiling, just as she’d suspected. Without thinking, she reached up and traced his mouth with her fingertips, wanting to feel him.

  Matt lightly caught her hand in his and pressed her fingers to his lips, kissing them one by one.

  It was hard to stop her heart from hammering. She was positive he had to hear it. That would ruin everything. She didn’t want to give up this evening, this fantasy, but she knew the danger that was involved. She couldn’t allow herself to be taken too far into the fantasy, couldn’t allow herself to believe that she could live happily ever after. That things could somehow work themselves out between a Wainwright and a Carson.

  She dropped her hand in her lap. “Thank you,” she murmured.

  “Don’t mention it.” He kissed her forehead again, aching for her lips instead. “Unless you want to.”

  Rose laughed.

  It felt good to laugh, to be with him here like this tonight. The heat and humidity faded into the background. All she was aware of, other than Matt, were the feelings that were swirling through her. Feelings that all involved him.

  It was nice to know that she truly loved the father of her baby. That her baby was conceived, however unintentionally, in love. A baby conceived in love had a head start.

  But what of the rest of it? a small voice asked. What about after conception? After birth? What kind of a life can you give your baby then?

  One filled with love, she insisted silently. Because no matter what, she loved her baby, had loved it from the first moment she’d known it was there, its tiny heart beating beneath hers. Forming beneath hers. She’d taken one of those home pregnancy tests and unconsciously fallen in love the instant the stick had turned blue.

  His arm slipped around her shoulder, pulling her a little closer to him still. Ever since the mugging earlier, Rose had seemed like a different woman. Or rather, the same woman that he remembered from Mission Creek. The one who had snatched his heart away from him.

  Part of him felt like finding the mugger and giving him a tip.

  Matt had been quiet too long. Nestled in the crook of his arm, Rose could feel his eyes on her, studying her. What did he see? A woman who had walked out on him? A woman he was determined to win back because of his pride? Or a woman who meant something to him?

  Don’t go there, she warned herself. Stop evaluating, just enjoy the moment. Because the moment was all they really had.

  “What are you thinking about?” Matt finally asked, his voice soft.

  His question caught her by surprise. She knew she couldn’t tell him. Rose hunted for something acceptable to say to him, then glanced up. She had her answer.

  “That the sky looks pretty tonight with all those stars.”

  He looked up himself. The stars were scattered like so many loose jewels. “Which one would you like?” he asked.

  “Why?” She laughed. “Are you going to go out and lasso it for me?”

  “No, I was thinking of something along the lines of ordering it for you from Neiman-Marcus.”

  She sat up, looking at him, knowing he meant diamonds. An engagement ring? Was he just joking or was he serious? Did he want to marry her because he loved her?

  Or had he somehow learned about the baby?

  She tried to find her answer in his expression and failed. “I don’t need stars or diamonds.”

  As long as I have you, she thought, even for just a little while longer.

  And then, when he said nothing further, she knew he was just talking, nothing more. That was all right, she counseled herself. She’d left Mission Creek not expecting anything more so this shouldn’t have exactly been a surprise.

  One day at a time, that was how she planned to take it. Just one day at a time. The rest would take care of itself. It would have to.

  She didn’t know when he was going home and until she knew, she could pretend that he wasn’t. That moments like this, that feelings like this, would last forever instead of for just a little while.

  And as long as she was away from home, from all the things she normally held dear and that dictated the path she had to walk in her life, these feelings would last forever.

  The trick, she’d discovered, was not to think. At all.

  “You got yourself a rare woman,” the carriage driver said in a deep cockney accent. It went with the tall, stovepipe hat he wore. Turning, he winked at Matt to underscore his pronouncement.

  “I already know that,” Matt told him, looking down into Rose’s face.

  Unable to help herself, she placed her hand on his cheek, pulling his mouth down to hers. The kiss that flared between them was passion itself.

  Her head began to spin instantly, the way it might have if she’d had wine with her meal. But she hadn’t had a meal, hadn’t had wine. Only ice cream.

  Can you get intoxicated on ice cream? she wondered. Or was that the man who was doing this to her? Was it Matt who was scrambling the blood in her veins and the thoughts in her mind?

  She didn’t know, she didn’t care. All she knew was that she liked this wild, heady feeling coursing through her and wanted more of it.

  Most of all, she didn’t want it to end.

  “Okay, this is it, folks,” the driver announced, accompanying his words with a loud, polite cough designed to force them apart. “We’re back to where we started from.”

  Feeling more than slightly dazed, Rose pulled away and blinked, taking in the carriages lined up ahead of their horse. The majestic Plaza Hotel stood regally in the background.

  “He’s right,” she murmured. A smattering of sadness slipped into her words.

  Rather than step down, the driver looked at them over his shoulder, playing with the reins. “I could take you around again if you like, but it would be the same rate as before.”

  Matt was perfectly willing to continue going ’round in circles for the rest of the night, as long as she remained in his arms. Matt looked at her quizzically, but Rose shook her head.

  There was someplace else that she wanted to be, someplace with secure walls, where no prying eyes could find them.

  “Maybe next time,” Matt told the man.

  Matt slipped the driver a large tip and then got down off the carriage. He turned and placed his hands on Rose’s waist to help her down.

  The driver beamed at the bill he unfolded in his hand. “I’ll be here,” he promised.

>   But he was talking to himself. Matt and Rose were walking, arm-in-arm, toward the entrance of the apartment building where Beth lived—completely oblivious to Rule Number One.

  Ten

  The elevator doors parted and Rose stepped inside with Matt. Several other people got in with them, eating up the space and forcing them to stand close to each other. Extremely close.

  The ride up in the elevator was the longest three minutes she’d ever endured.

  Desire had already taken up residence within her and it was pulsating through every pore. Rose felt as if she would explode any second unless she got a chance to be alone with Matt.

  Really alone.

  Resolutions were all well and good if the man she was resolved never to be with again was a thousand miles away, safely out of sight if not out of mind.

  But when he wasn’t even one thousandth of an inch away, her resolve shredded faster than a wet tissue in a hurricane.

  As it did now.

  She would have liked to have blamed it on something—the moon, the carriage ride, his coming to her rescue. But it was none of these. It was him and the fact that she had never really even come close to getting over him and probably never would.

  She knew that every time she looked into her child’s face, she would see Matt.

  Passengers trickled out on each floor. By the time they reached the twentieth, they were almost alone. As the elevator door slid open and they got off, Rose slipped her hand into his.

  Matt looked into her eyes and knew that they were of like mind. The waiting was over. He wasn’t sure what the step after the next one was going to entail, but he damn well knew what his very next step was going to be. Making love with her.

  It was either that, or self-destruct. He’d come to the end of his control, the end of his restraint.

  Unlocking the apartment door, praying that there would be no answer to her greeting, Rose called, “Aunt Beth, are you home?”

  There was no reply.

  Mentally, she crossed her fingers, knowing she shouldn’t. Knowing that if they were alone in the apartment, the right thing for her to do would be to leave again. Because to stay would mean the inevitable.