No Red Roses: A Loveswept Classic Romance (Santa Flores)

by Iris Johansen

  “I wondered if perhaps you’d read anything about me in the newspapers?” she asked carefully.

  “Oh yes, love. Lawrence and I have been cutting out all the stories about you and Rex and putting them in a scrapbook. Did you see that amusing one claiming you’re a witch?”

  Amusing? Tamara let out a sigh of relief. She should have known that sane, wise Aunt Elizabeth would never take that rubbish seriously. “You didn’t mind that they mentioned you?”

  “Of course not, dear. Why should I?”

  “No reason,” Tamara answered. “How are you, Aunt Elizabeth? What have you been doing?”

  “The same old things,” her aunt said vaguely. There was a short pause and then she went on briskly, “I was going to call you tomorrow anyway, darling.”

  “Something wrong?” Tamara asked anxiously.

  “No, everything is fine, dear,” Aunt Elizabeth said comfortingly. “It’s just that it came in much clearer about the blood last night.”

  “The blood?”

  “You remember, Tamara,” her aunt said patiently. “I told you there was a disturbance about the blood. Well, it’s the little boy’s blood that’s the problem. Your blood type is Rh-negative and so Rex must be Rh-positive. You must tell the doctor right away so he can rectify the problem immediately after the birth.”

  “What birth?”

  “Your little boy’s, of course. Tamara, do pay attention,” her aunt chided.

  A little boy. Rex’s baby. Tamara felt a warm glow run over her, momentarily banishing the chilly lassitude of an instant before. How wonderful to have a little boy with Rex’s mischievous dark eyes and sweet, loving ways.

  “I’m sorry, Aunt Elizabeth,” Tamara said dreamily. “I’m a little slow this morning, I guess.”

  “I really must hang up now, Tamara. Lawrence is waiting in the car. We’re going to try the woods north of town today.” There was a brief pause and then her aunt spoke again, her tone threaded with gentle raillery. “And the music, darling?”

  Tamara leaned her head against the wall again and closed her eyes while two tears brimmed over and ran down her cheeks. “The music?” she echoed huskily, over the lump in her throat. “The music was utterly magnificent, Aunt Elizabeth.”

  “I knew it would be,” her aunt said contentedly. “I really have to go now. Good-bye, Tamara.”

  Tamara carefully put the telephone down and walked dazedly into the living room. According to Aunt Elizabeth, she was going to have Rex’s baby at some time in the future. When Rex grew tired of her, at least she would have his son. The knowledge didn’t lessen her depression, but it was a light at the end of the tunnel.

  She was purposely late for Rex’s show that evening. She felt, in her present depressed state, that it would be more than she could endure to see him onstage when he was consciously exerting that explosive magnetism. He was lethal enough offstage.

  She’d chosen a violet gown that had a romantic regency look to it. The delicate chiffon was beautifully cut to fall gracefully from an empire waist and bare her golden shoulders and upper breasts voluptuously. She had piled most of her hair in a high knot on top of her head, then brought one shining swatch forward to rest against the curve of her breast. She knew she looked well as she entered the Pagan Room and was shown to her ringside table, only a few feet from the stage.

  Rex was on his last number and as usual held the audience spellbound. When he finished, everyone was standing and the applause was deafening. The house lights came up and he caught sight of her. Relief, anger, and frustration chased across his face.

  He raised his hand to quiet the audience. “Just one more,” he said with a flashing smile. “This one’s for my lady.”

  Oh no, he couldn’t! She wouldn’t be able to stand it tonight. Not now with her emotions so raw and bleeding. She closed her eyes in pain as the room darkened and the words came as soft and intimate as a kiss.

  Sweet my lady, come weave your magic spell.

  She wished now she hadn’t come at all. This was as bad as being on a torture rack. But it got worse. Rex stood lazily and strolled across the stage until he was directly in front of her table. The spotlight that followed him now included her in its revealing glare as he knelt and sang directly to her. She couldn’t bear it. By the time the last, throbbing notes were sounding, the tears were running freely down her face. She was making a perfect fool of herself in front of hundreds of people, she thought miserably. If she didn’t get out of here, she was going to fall apart completely.

  She jumped to her feet and ran through the crowded tables toward the exit.

  “Tamara!” Her name shouted over the mike reverberated around the room, but she didn’t stop. Then she heard a woman’s shrill scream of horror and looked back.

  Rex lay on the floor in front of the stage, his body ominously still. The people in the audience were suddenly milling about excitedly. Someone called out for a doctor. Good Lord, what had happened? He’d obviously leaped down from the stage to follow her. Had he lost his balance and fallen? She was suddenly running back toward the stage, frantically pushing people aside. Rex was hurt!

  There was a crowd around his limp body now, and she elbowed them aside and fell to her knees beside him. “Rex!” she sobbed, anxiously feeling for a pulse in his wrist.

  With lightning swiftness his other hand snaked out and grabbed her wrist as his dark eyes flicked open. “It’s about time,” he said grimly. He sat up and dusted off his clothes with one hand, still holding on to her with iron inflexibility. “This floor is damn hard.”

  She stared at him incredulously. “You were faking!”

  He nodded curtly. “I knew I didn’t stand a chance of catching up with you, so I decided to make you come to me.”

  “That’s terrible!” Tamara said indignantly. “What a horrible trick.”

  He got to his feet, bringing her with him, and threw a warm, endearing smile to the circle of fans around them. “Sorry for the bother, folks. My lady is acting a bit crazy tonight.”

  There were amused chuckles from the crowd which parted as Rex headed swiftly for the door, dragging Tamara behind him. She didn’t have the time or breath to protest until they were in the elevator on their way to the penthouse.

  “Your grandstand play was entirely unnecessary,” she said crossly. “I was just going back to the apartment.”

  “I couldn’t take the chance,” he snapped. “I wasn’t about to have you running around Las Vegas in the state you were in.” He didn’t speak again until they were in the living room. “Sit down,” he ordered.

  She shook her head. “I think I’ll go make some coffee. Would you like some?” Anything to avoid the painful conversation that was to come.

  “You’re not going anywhere until we get a few things straight,” he growled. “I’ve been going crazy all day since I left you, and I’m not about to put up with any more of your evasions. Our relationship has had enough misunderstandings and general fireworks without your closing up on me now.”

  She didn’t answer, and he ran his hand through his jet black hair. “It had something to do with the flowers, didn’t it? You were fine until I gave you the camellias.”

  Her throat was so tight she couldn’t speak. Her eyes were wide and pained in her pale face. She shook her head dumbly.

  He was beside her in four steps, his hands grasping her shoulders and shaking her roughly. “Damn it, answer me! I can’t stand this any more. What the hell was wrong with those camellias?”

  “Nothing,” she gasped. “They were beautiful.” Then the tears were raining down her face and she almost wailed, “But they weren’t red roses, damn it!”

  “Red roses!” Rex’s face was blank. “You put me through this hell over roses?”

  She nodded, hiding her face in his shirt. “You’ve never given me roses,” she mumbled. “Everything else, but no red roses.”

  He went still, then pushed her away from him to look searchingly into her face. “And did you want m
e to give you red roses?” he asked hoarsely. His arms crushed her to him in a breathless embrace. “Good Lord, why didn’t you tell me? Do you know how careful I’ve had to be? Have you any idea how many flower meanings have something to do with love?”

  “Careful?”

  “You’re damn right. I was scared silly I’d frighten you off with any hint of commitment. I’d bulldozed and blackmailed you since the first evening we met. I didn’t dare put any additional pressure on you. I was afraid you’d panic and run.”

  “I don’t understand.” She looked up at him bewilderedly. Her head was whirling. She’d thought she would never see the tough, aggressive Rex Brody caught in a situation that would intimidate him.

  His lips twisted. “For a bright girl, you can be remarkably dense, Tamara. Do I have to spell it out for you? I could give you a roomful of red roses and it wouldn’t say enough.” He buried his face in her hair and said thickly, “I love you, sweetheart.”

  She stiffened as if she’d been struck by lightning, and he felt it. “Don’t freeze up on me,” he said, his lips on her ear and his arms tightening possessively. “I’m not going to rush you. Now that I’ve broken through that wall of reserve around you, I can wait. You don’t have to marry me. Just stay with me, love.” His voice was low and shaking. “I’ll give you anything you want, but don’t leave me. I don’t think I could stand it without you now, babe.”

  She wanted to put her arms about him and hold him forever. She wanted to say something beautifully eloquent and meaningful that he would remember and look back on tenderly. But she was exploding with happiness inside and all she could do was try to lighten the atmosphere a little before she became completely inarticulate.

  Her tone was tenderly teasing. “Will you write me another song?”

  “I’ll write you a symphony,” he promised extravagantly, kissing her ear.

  “What about that boutique on Rodeo Drive?”

  “London and Paris, too. You can open a chain.”

  She slid her arms up to his shoulders and around his neck to toy with the thick, crisp hair at the nape of his neck. “And will you give me a baby, Rex?” she whispered.

  He pushed her away a little to look down at her, his dark eyes grave. “You’ll have to marry me for that, babe,” he said quietly. “I know it’s outdated, but I want my child to have his father’s name.”

  She smiled up at him, and he inhaled sharply as he caught a glimpse of that starlike radiance shining out of her. “You’re being so generous I think it’s only fair that I make an honest man of you.” She buried her head against his shoulder. “I don’t want anything but you,” she said with aching tenderness. “Do I have to send you red roses, too?”

  “You love me?” His tone was incredulous and she had to chuckle.

  “How could I help it? You’ve told me yourself how irresistible you are,” she teased. She kissed the trip-hammer pulsebeat in his throat. “I adore you.” She kissed the tip of his nose. “I idolize you.” She kissed his lips with lingering sweetness. “I love you. Is that enough for you?”

  “It may be too much,” he said hoarsely, giving her back a kiss that was far more passionate than the ones he’d received. “I have a vague hunch that we should talk some more, but it had better be the shortest discussion on record. Last night was much too long ago.”

  She pushed him gently away and shook her head firmly. “No way. You have a few explanations to make, Rex Brody.”

  His dark eyes twinkled mischievously. “I was just being considerate, babe,” he said innocently. “You look so warm and tousled, I thought you might like a long, soothing shower.”

  Soothing! Tamara felt oddly breathless as she remembered just what Rex considered a soothing shower. He was right. It had been too long and she was as hungry for him as he was for her.

  “Later,” she promised, with no little effort. She released herself from the warm temptation of his embrace and backed away to perch on a stool at the bar. “How long have you loved me?”

  He sighed in resignation and answered absently as his flickering gaze lingered on the silken smoothness of her shoulders. “Since that first night,” he admitted. “At first I thought I just wanted to drag you into the nearest bed, but at the Bettencourts’ party I knew for sure.” He shook his head wryly. “It hit me like a ton of bricks when I watched you walk out of that ballroom like a martyred empress. It really threw me for a loop. I was torn between wanting to throw my cloak down for you to walk on and breaking your lovely little neck for making me feel that way.” He sighed again. “And then you cried, and I knew I was really and truly lost. I had to have you any way I could get you. When I arrived at the party, I fully intended to tell you I wasn’t going to pursue the matter with your aunt any further.”

  “What!” Tamara exclaimed, her eyes widening in shock.

  He grinned sheepishly. “I had a talk with Aunt Margaret when I got back to the house and she convinced me your aunt was innocent of any intentional wrongdoing. I’m not saying I wasn’t going to continue my pursuit of you, but I was going to relinquish that particular lever.”

  “Your good intentions certainly didn’t last long,” she said tartly.

  “I didn’t have time,” he said defensively. “I was going on tour in three days, and I wasn’t about to leave you to Jamison and Hellman and all those other small-town Romeos.” He scowled darkly. “I was already jealous as hell thanks to that shrew Celia Bettencourt.”

  “So you decided just to disrupt my entire life and make me come with you.” She shook her head wonderingly. “You can be a very ruthless man, Rex.”

  “It was necessary,” he said simply. “You were the most important thing in my life. I couldn’t risk losing you. Going to bed with you wasn’t going to be enough. I had to have enough time to make you feel something for me.”

  “Oh, I feel something,” Tamara assured him fervently, and was rewarded by a brilliantly tender smile.

  “Do you know that in that violet gown your eyes are almost amethyst?” he asked inconsequentially, and she gave him a reproving frown. “Oh, all right. But I kept the necklace just in case.”

  Her lips went up at his little-boy stubbornness. “I’ll let you give it to me for a wedding present,” she said softly, her eyes twinkling. “Providing you’ll still accept me in my present barren condition.”

  “Where’s your wrap?” he asked briskly, striding swiftly over to her and lifting her down from the stool.

  “What?” she asked, startled.

  But he was already on his way to the door with her in tow. “Never mind, you won’t need it. It’s a warm evening and we’ll only be gone an hour or so.”

  “But where are we going?” she asked breathlessly, digging in her heels at the front door.

  “We’re going to get married, of course,” he said nonchalantly. “There are wedding chapels open twenty-four hours a day in Las Vegas.”

  “But I didn’t mean now,” she protested. “I don’t want to get married in Las Vegas! I want Aunt Elizabeth at my wedding.”

  He frowned. “And I want to be married tonight,” he said stubbornly. “I want you to belong to me right now.”

  He was so like an endearingly lovable little boy who didn’t want to wait for his treat that the temptation to give in was almost irresistible. She wanted him to belong totally to her now, too. But there was Aunt Elizabeth to consider. She would be so hurt if she wasn’t at Tamara’s wedding.

  She looked at him through her long lashes and smiled demurely. “I don’t want to be married like this, Rex,” she pleaded softly. “Just look at me! I’m so warm and tousled.” She deliberately repeated his words. “I think I definitely need a shower!”

  Rex chuckled ruefully. “You’ve hit upon the one irrefutable argument, love.” His hand reached out to cup the curve of her cheek. “Perhaps we’ll wait until tomorrow, after all. I’ll fly your aunt out for the wedding and we’ll have the ceremony tomorrow evening. Is it a deal?”

  She nodded h
appily and he leaned down to kiss her gently. “Besides, I’ve been thinking about those demands of yours, and I feel bound to honor my commitments at once.” His midnight dark eyes were dancing. “The first two I can take care of fairly easily. I’ll start on your symphony next week, and tomorrow I’ll tell Scotty to process the purchase of those boutiques.”

  “But I was joking. I don’t want—” she protested, but he put his hand on her lips, silencing her.

  “Hush, woman, your master is speaking,” he said grandly, and then uttered a surprised “Ouch” as she bit his finger. He moved his hand cautiously and continued wryly. “As I was saying, since your last request may be the most time-consuming to comply with, I think we’d better start working on it right away.”

  “The baby?” she whispered softly, her violet eyes suddenly lighting.

  “The baby,” he affirmed. He pulled her close again and kissed her with a hot, slow passion that was honey sweet. When he drew away, they were both shaking and breathless. “I find I’m growing very fond of the idea of having a miniature violet-eyed sorceress around the house,” he said thickly.

  She smiled serenely and tilted her eager lips to tempt his own. “You’ll have to wait a bit,” she said dreamily. “The first one is going to be a boy.”

  For Tamara

  My gypsy who thinks nice

  guys are sexier

  BOOKS BY IRIS JOHANSEN

  Sleep No More Dark Rider

  What Doesn’t Kill You The Beloved Scoundrel

  Bonnie Midnight Warrior

  Quinn The Magnificent Rogue

  Eve The Tiger Prince

  Chasing the Night The Golden Barbarian

  Eight Days to Live Reap the Wind

  Blood Game Storm Winds

  Deadlock The Wind Dancer

  The Treasure An Unexpected Song

  Dark Summer Tender Savage

  Quicksand One Touch of Topaz

  Pandora’s Daughter Notorious

  Stalemate Magnificent Folly

  Killer Dreams Strong, Hot Winds