WindSwept Narrows: #15 Rose Maddock

by Diroll-Nichols, Karen

  He took her pack from her hands and set it on the sofa that had been shoved back slightly. He led her to the large blanket spread on the floor, leaving her there before going to pull the thick drapes aside, allowing the sparkling of the evening rain to twinkle around them.

  “Rose?” His palms felt damp, his movement uncertain. Another something that annoyed him. His jaw set, he gently gripped her shoulders, meeting the wide eyes that lifted to his. “Oh, Rose…I didn’t mean to make you cry…I thought it would please you…I spent half the day trying to understand my own head…trying to fix the damage I’d caused…”

  Rose felt his shirt beneath her face, her hands closed into tight fists at her head. She’d spent the morning pushing him out of her mind. Fighting to push him out of that space he’d found in her heart. She drew one fist back and hit him solidly in the chest, glaring at the stunned expression on his face.

  “Owww!” Ryan backed up a step, rubbing the spot she’d struck even as humor lifted the corners of his eyes.

  “If you ever do that to me again, I’ll really hit you,” she informed him, chin up and defiant. “I don’t know what this is that I feel. I don’t have the right labels to understand maybe because it has happened so fast but I don’t care right now. But you talk or shout or…or something, Ryan Flannary. Is that clear?”

  “As Irish crystal, my sweet Rose,” he chuckled, carefully opening the small fist and tugging her closer. “I’m sorry for being…”

  Rose frowned up at him. “I didn’t understand that.”

  “It wasn’t complimentary, nor was it English. How about dinner?” He led her closer, both of them sinking to the floor and exploring the covered dishes.

  “You arranged all this?” Rose laughed in disbelief, lifting a pineapple spear and biting down hungrily.

  “Aye…in between meetings and ripping into vendors for not meeting their deadlines,” Ryan pulled his shoes off and reached for hers, tugging them free. Both of them sat cross legged on the blanket, eating for a few minutes.

  “I feel for your vendors,” Rose watched him. She liked watching him, lifting a slice of marinated chicken and dredging it through the sweet sauce. “This is delicious.”

  “The hotel has outstanding cooks,” he agreed, relaxing on his side as he dug for some of the salad he’d requested. She asked questions about his day and he answered, listening and laughing with her until most of the food had vanished. He watched her absently cleaning up their picnic, pushing himself to lean against the sofa. “Stay with me, Rose.”

  Amber circles kept busy on repacking the containers, her teeth tugging on her lower lip. She tried ignoring the shaking hands but knew it was impossible.

  “I don’t have any clothes, Ryan,” she began slowly. She should have just said no. She couldn’t do that to herself tonight.

  “It’s barely come eight,” he reached for his loafers and slid them into place, handing her the shoes she had slipped out of. “I have a more flexible schedule. I can go to your place with you.” He laughed at the head that suddenly popped up, her eyes wide. “You do have a bed larger than a twin, right?”

  “I…yes, of course…” she leaned back on her heels, looking from her shoes to him and sighing. “The unit came furnished. I either sold or donated most of the stuff I had when I moved,” she looked around the large, open area. “I think my whole little apartment would fit in this room, Ryan. The employee quarters are nice and close, though.”

  “You live on site?” Came the curious question. He hadn’t given a thought to where she was living, assuming it was an apartment.

  “Yes, right…” she pursed her lips, frowning and gesturing behind her. “Over that way, I think…I’m a bit turned about in here…”

  “Two bathrooms?” He asked casually.

  “No…”

  “There’s a washer and dryer here, Rose,” he helped move the containers to the counter, watching her fold the blanket and slide her shoes into place. “Let’s take a walk and get some clothes for you.”

  “Ryan, I can’t stay here with you.”

  “Why?”

  “I…it’s a hotel…you’re a guest…I…I…” she frowned at the sweater he handed her and continued leading her from the room. “I could be in violation of…I don’t know what, but I could!” Her scowl deepened at his laugh, his hands trapping her in the corner of the elevator and their faces inches apart.

  “I already checked with Logan, you’re safe,” he teased, barely stable when she shoved against him, gaping at him.

  “I…you what? You spoke to Logan? The boss? The owner? About me?” Her voice continued to rise until she stopped, closed her eyes and inhaled. “I can’t believe this.”

  “We’re friends, Rose. He saw us together that first morning after breakfast,” Ryan took her palm, walking with her through the expansive and bustling lobby that sent shoots off in many directions. “Which way, Rose?”

  She felt her teeth snap together. The owner, for pity sake, she thought with an inward groan. Rose led him to the employee exit and through with a swipe of her badge.

  “You’re quiet,” he said after a few minutes of walking, standing at her side on the moving walkway.

  “I’m in disbelief…”

  “Because of Logan?” one shoulder rose and fell dismissingly. “He didn’t have anything to say, Rose. We didn’t talk about you. He asked if I was corrupting one of his employees,” he recalled, meeting her eyes with a teasing wink.

  Rose only groaned aloud, not protesting when he pulled her to lean into his arms. Her fingers caught in the belt loops on his jeans and she let her head rest there for a quiet minute. It was baffling. It was new. She wondered briefly if it was also dangerous but dismissed it and stood up, glancing around quickly. She stepped off and led him up the stairs a few feet down a corridor.

  “How long will you have to live in a hotel, Ryan?”

  “Hayworth came in last night. He’s got a list of things I’m looking for in a house,” Ryan remarked easily, taking in the grounds and arrangements of the sprawling on sight housing that had been developed. “They did a nice job with the housing.”

  “It’s supposed to be temporary. When the apartments are complete, most will move there. Some, depending on circumstances, can stay here,” she told him, applying her thumb and opening the sturdy gate. “Hayworth?” Rose repeat the name, even as she heard a little part of her whimpering and asking if she had a clue what she was getting involved with.

  “Personal assistant,” Ryan hoped the description was broad enough.

  “Huh…your company must really like you…a massive suite bigger than most apartments and a personal assistant…and he’s…I’m guessing he?” Her voice had risen again, making her clear it, repeatedly.

  “He…Matt Hayworth,” Ryan confirmed with a nod.

  “Irish?”

  “British, actually,” he stepped into the small apartment behind her and felt the first slap at his ego. “Rose…” He wasn’t sure where or what were the proper words to use to explain himself. Without watching her run.

  “I know…it’s small, but it’s very comfortable and it’s me,” she said without looking over her shoulders, striding into the bedroom with her pack dropping from her shoulder to her fingers.

  “I wasn’t about to comment on your apartment, Rose,” Ryan followed her, leaning against the door frame and watching her. She dumped the pack upside down on the unmade bed and sorted, most of the contents being tossed into a large plastic bin near the bathroom. “I like it…and you are right, it is you,” he agreed with a sly grin, holding himself immobile when she turned slowly, pale lashes narrowed.

  “Is that a dig?”

  “Absolutely not,” he answered smoothly, his palm up and one finger lifting a ridiculous scrap of nylon and lace dangling off the corner of her bed.

  “I…that merely means it’s still serviceable. I wear that beneath some of my dresses…” she stopped, closing her eyes and growling at the heat she felt in her che
eks. “I am not discussing my underwear with you,” she informed him, turning back to her sorting before going in search of items to fold and tuck into the pack for a couple days. Including one of her dresses, snatching the bra from the bedpost and stuffing it into the pack.

  “Do tell…it appears I have a great deal to learn,” he commented through a low chuckle.

  Chapter Seven

  “Your company must be paying a fortune for that suite,” she commented as they left the apartment, a smaller bag in her hand while he slung her pack over his shoulder, their fingers entwined as they went down the stairs to the underground. Rose badged through and sighed.

  “Your apartment is too small, Rose…and only one bath…”

  “I know…it’s not really meant for two people.”

  “Is this bothering you?”

  “I…it’s new…and I’m not sure how comfortable I am coming and going from the hotel like a guest,” she pulled the corner of her cheek between her teeth in thought. “I honestly don’t know, Ryan.”

  “Is it the suite that makes you uncomfortable, Rose?” He asked carefully, leaning on the rail that moved with the walkway, gliding them beneath the massive hotel and casino. “Should I ask for a more modest room?” He almost laughed at the gleam in her eyes.

  “It’s that talk about money…coming back to haunt me,” she mumbled, watching the signs on the various exits for them to take.

  “How about we try why it bothers you?”

  Rose stood up and moved carefully, leading him from the moving walkway to the exit she wanted, slowly taking the few steps and badging through the door.

  “I think…I suppose if I thought about it…” Rose ran her free hand over her head, raking the unruly waves back.

  “Nervous?” He met her gaze when she immediately glanced up at him. He wasn’t sure she was aware of the gestures he was becoming fond of, the hands in her hair was one of them. Watching the mixture of colors falls around her face seemed to fascinate him.

  “If I had thought much about spending nights with someone, I guess I envisioned it with someone…” The tip of her tongue touched the corner of her mouth, her brain searching frantically for the right, politically correct words.

  “In your tax bracket?”

  Rose looked over at him, the edge in his voice unhidden. “Yes. That’s part of it…the other part is…the line between employee and guest.”

  “So which is the larger problem we need to work out?” Ryan arched a brow when she sighed and leaned on the bar inside the elevator.

  “You’re angry.”

  “I’m…puzzled. Lately by too many things, Rose. You’d think at thirty-five I’d have figured out all the curves and niches to life.” He stared at her for a long minute. “I can’t say as I’ve given a thought to my earning potential being an obstacle to finding a partner.”

  “I…it’s not an obstacle,” she protested through a sigh, his words continuing to echo in her mind. Partner. Her mind whimpered.

  “Afraid of comments? The opinions of others?”

  “Maybe…I don’t know what it is…”

  “You won’t allow it to come between us,” he said firmly.

  “Because you won’t?”

  “I won’t,” he agreed flatly. “But it still requires both of us, Rose.”

  “No, Ryan…I won’t. Sometimes…” Rose lifted a hand from her side, her fingers soft over his cheek. “You seem very…not sad…but…bothered. When we met on the track I could see that…but I don’t think it’s your project either.”

  Ryan trapped her palm with his, a warm kiss placed in the center before leading her to the suite at the end of the hall.

  “Use the other half of the closet, Rose,” he broke from her and went to the desk he was using next to the kitchen, a blinking light catching his attention. “I have to check on this.”

  “I’m okay, Ryan…go work,” she told him with a shake of her head, taking the pack from his fingers and moving into the huge bedroom. Her cheeks puffed up, the air pushed free in a very long, slow stream.

  What are you doing, Rose Maddock? She heard the question resounding through her mind but there was no corresponding answer to greet it.

  Rose tapped the plate outside the large walk in closet and heard her brain whimper. It had been a very long time since she stood in the open arch of a walk in closet. She closed her eyes for a long, silent minute before setting the pack on the built in bench and began putting things on hangers, a pair of small boots out to sit on the floor. She had her gym things folded and repacked for the next day before taking the smaller bag she carried to the huge bathroom.

  He found her leaning on the counter before the large mirror in the bathroom, just staring, palms down flat and eyes blinking. She must have caught sight of him, hastily straightening up, a smile tugging her lips.

  “Problems fixed?” She asked, taking the palm he held out to her. They stood toe to toe, hands at their sides and fingers entwined. Her sigh was soft and relaxed when his mouth covered hers, moving hotly from corner to corner, his tongue out to trace the full lips seconds after he’d bit down gently.

  “They’ll be there tomorrow and will be dealt with,” he said, shoving them aside and backing toward the bed. “It’s time for bed, Rose,” he released her fingers, warm palms caressing up her arms and over her shoulders, fingers splayed against each cheek before he repeat the kiss until both of them were wrestling with clothing and breathing. And uncertain which had priority.

  Rose opened her eyes a long time later, sighing thickly as she watched him tap out lights and return to the bed. She decided she definitely liked the way his muscles moved and the way the unruly dark hair caressed the angles of his face. She met the single arched brow.

  “You’re staring,” she said softly, rolling to face him, her hand up and brushing the long strands around his ear.

  “I’m…”

  “Puzzled?”

  “Still…but about too many things.” It was frustrating, new and fascinating all at the same time, he realized as he tucked her against him and pulled the blankets over them. “Thank you for staying, Rose. Thank you for listening…”

  She closed her eyes, her head nestled between his arm and chest, her lips brushing his skin. Her palm rested near her face until he took it, wrapping their fingers together and slipping off to sleep.

  Rose stirred slowly. She didn’t know how to explain it. Even to herself. She cuddled closer, her palm stroking gently down his chest. Something in his scent. His nearness had broken into her senses and awoke the female in her. A stronger tingle made her move her hip, raise her leg and stroke her foot down his leg, the apex of her pressing hotly against his hip.

  She liked the low, husky groan that slipped from between his lips when she rose up, brushing her mouth hotly over his, drawing him slowly from some endless dream. She liked tracing the full shape of his mouth with her tongue, smiled when his tongue came out to play with hers, his palm rising from his side, fingers spearing the silken hair on the side of her head.

  Rose took one of the foil packets from the nightstand and slowly, torturously sheathed him before sliding her leg over him. Her fingers stroked through her moisture, taking him in her palm and guiding him to the hot, tight center and slowly, very slowly, easing him inside her.

  Ryan thought he was dreaming. Nothing had prepared him for a woman like Rose Maddock. She aroused him and stoked the need until he thought he would lose his mind. His body burned with hunger and tremored beneath the firm, hard strokes of her body against his. She’d slid her palms into his, used him for leverage and squeezed him with muscles he knew ran strong and deep. The sleek, slender body arched and pulled groans from him when she angled her body just right, the explosive tremors beginning with the loud, thick sound of his name on her lips. Her fingers curled tightly around his as she rode the powerful burst, his body following without consulting him, his hips thrust against her hard and demanding.

  And still he knew it would never be
enough. It would never be finished.

  Rose let herself drift lazily against him, a warm, soft kiss brushing her throat, tipping her chin up until his mouth covered hers.

  “I hope you don’t mind…”

  “I’m completely at your disposal,” he teased softly. “I appreciate being invited along for the ride,” he gently dislodged her, moving to the bathroom in the darkness. His gaze swept the clock with a long, slow breath as he climbed into the bed. Almost three in the morning. He rolled to his side, burying his chin into the hollow of her throat and settling down contentedly to sleep. An amazing dream.

  Puzzled. That was still the word in his mind in the morning as he stood beneath the hot, stinging spray. And yet, happy. He had to search for awhile for the right, simple word. He’d never given much thought to the simple form of the word before. It wasn’t a complicated word and he suddenly realized part of him was trying to complicate what was truly a simple feeling.

  Before Rose. Rose reached for him. Rose seduced him. Rose didn’t shy from his temper. Rose wasn’t complicated, he realized with a deep, easy laugh. She laughed with him, teased him, critiqued him and debated with him. Some of their discussions ended in a draw with both of them eyeing the other warily. The intelligence and humor he’d seen in her eyes that first day were the cause of his bafflement. She was stunning, when she chose to be; at other times, she reminded him of a college kid, pack slung over one shoulder and sneakers skipping along the concrete.

  And she wanted him. For him. Nothing else entered into it. He’d accepted it blindly and he wasn’t sure why. Something around her, something that smiled at him through those wide, tawny eyes had soothed a part of him he had no idea was still restless. Still vulnerable and pained. Honest and simple trust.