No Red Roses

by Iris Johansen

  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 "I know it's outdated, but I want my child to have his father's name."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 star like 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 pulse beat 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 happily 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."