WindSwept Narrows: #15 Rose Maddock

by Diroll-Nichols, Karen

  “Hmm…I can tell,” he whispered against her throat, his teeth nipping and ego satisfied when she shivered, the soft mew from her lips extremely enticing.

  “Stop that. This is serious.”

  “I know, sweet Rose…”

  She sighed. “And do you have to sound like that? So…calm…and…and understanding…sympathetic…” she knew she was sulking.

  “Would you rather I shouted?” A brow arched despite himself, amusement edging his voice.

  “I could handle the shouting,” she leaned back and met his eyes, nodding as if to herself. “I could. I think it would only worry me when you go cold and…exacting…strict…I’ve heard you on some of your conference calls with people you’re displeased with…that would bother me…”

  “Somehow I’m not sure I could find those tones with you, Rose. I have a difficult time placing the situation where it would be needed,” Ryan brought a palm up, tapping a finger on the lip she was chewing on. “That really is my job…” A laugh broke free when it dawned on her what he meant, a faint tint of pink dusting her cheeks.

  “Should I warn you again about us fighting?”

  “I’m sure it’s neigh on impossible to make it fifty years or so without a row,” he responded, the barest hint of humor in his voice while his eyes overflowed with it when she scowled. “Perhaps another word might suit better. How about we try negotiating?”

  Rose ran her tongue around her lips at the same time she realized one of his palms was on her side. Then on her ribs, his fingertips just barely scraping the underside of her breast.

  “Negotiating,” she repeat slowly, unaware of the way he watched her eyes glaze over or the little mew from deep in her throat.

  Rose moved quickly, shoving against him and bouncing to her feet. She went behind the lounge and shoved the back forward, jerking Ryan to an upright position that he adjusted to after a low curse left his lips. She moved to the side, and pushed his legs apart, one foot falling on either side of the lounge. Rose sat cross legged on the end, hands together with a satisfied smile.

  “Alright. Now I’m ready,” she informed him with a brisk nod.

  “Darling…you just removed all the fun from it,” but he straightened up, watching her closely.

  “So…you say what you want and then I say what I want…then we narrow it down, right?” Rose almost laughed at the pained expression on his face.

  “Since we are a board meeting of two,” he began slowly, choosing his words carefully. “Generally one of us would make an opening statement.”

  “I’ll let you handle that part.”

  “Generous of you,” his grin was crooked, the sweetly serious look in her eyes making him want her right here. Right now. Would the wanting stop? Part of him wondered. Another part of him knew it would never fade. He cleared his throat, forcing his mind from the heart shaped face and wide eyes watching him.

  “Something wrong?”

  “Not a thing,” he answered quickly, amazed at himself and at her. She wasn’t even aware of the effect she had on him. “Alright…let’s begin with money,” he held up one finger when her mouth opened. “Never interrupt a board member,” he advised sternly.

  “Yes, sir,” came the petulant response.

  “As I was saying…money is a tool. It was designed as a trade item for goods and services provided. It serves a purpose in that we use it to provide for those we care about. Friends, family, employees…in some instances, even strangers, as through charities,” Ryan kept his gaze on her as his mind churned out what he wanted to say.

  Rose closed her eyes. Like the chess game, she could see moves ahead where he was going with the speech.

  “If you fall asleep, it immediately defaults to my list and the negotiations are at an end,” he said softly.

  “I’m not sleeping. I’m listening,” she answered tartly.

  “A question was asked a short time ago about whether or not you believed in a traditional sort of relationship between us,” he paused, her lashes opening to study him. He watched her tongue come out, moving slowly over her lower lip.

  “Traditional…as in monogamous…just you and me…yes, of course,” she said instantly. Mine, she thought fiercely.

  “Traditional, Rose, also includes a man taking care of his family,” Ryan said the words slowly. Her breath caught and held. “We…you and I…have formed a family unit. Small, but still…”

  “A couple,” she said softly, nodding slowly.

  “A couple. It doesn’t mean I’m trying to buy you…nor does it mean you’re only with me because I can pay the bills,” Ryan leaned forward, his hands taking the two she was twisting in her lap. “I noticed the little bowl of chocolates on my desk.”

  “You seem to have a sweet tooth,” she murmured, shrugging. “I thought you’d like them there now and then.”

  “I do…and thank you…and that’s my point,” his gaze caught on the emerald shamrock around her throat and he smiled.

  “An instruction manual would be nice,” she said with another sigh, giggles bubbling forth when he gripped her shoulders and pulled her over him on the lounge.

  “Ahhh…my sweet Rose…then we’d miss out on all the wonderful make up sex,” he whispered before taking both their thoughts far from the past hour.

  Chapter Twelve

  Rose groaned. Loudly. Repeatedly.

  “Alarms are not supposed to work on the weekends,” she mumbled testily from beneath the pillow.

  “It’s a gorgeous morning for a run.”

  “Irish lunatic,” she murmured, ignoring his laugh. “You’re going to the resort?” Her head was up, one eye open to watch him bend and tie his shoes.

  “My sweet Rose…we have a six mile running track below us, along the waterway,” Ryan leaned over and brushed the tousled head with a kiss. “Go back to sleep. I’ll be back in an hour.”

  “Yeah…sleep…” she growled as she climbed out of bed fifteen minutes later after doing nothing but tossing and turning. There was no one warm to snuggle against, she thought, brushing her teeth and getting dressed in a warm bulky sweater and jeans.

  She started the coffee and pulled their laundry out, folding and stacking, thinking about the last week. Her mind was on too many things when she absently answered her phone when it sounded, pressing speaker and waving fingers at Matt and Susan as they came in from the front.

  “Hello?”

  “Rose…don’t hang up on me.”

  “You’ve got the wrong number.” She pressed the button and ended the call. “Morning.”

  “The boss out running?” Matt asked curiously.

  “Lunatic Irishman…” Rose shook her head, eyes rolled back. Her body froze when the phone sounded again, the read out making her grind her teeth. “I told you to leave me alone, Tony.”

  “I’ve been searching for you, Rose. People say you ruined my career, my life…”

  “You arrogant pig,” she said, stunned at his words.

  “You know your photo is all over the big business news, Rose. Now I know where you are, I have to see you, talk to you,” came the unusually quiet words through the phone line.

  Rose opened her mouth at the same time Matt reached over and pressed the end call button. Her head fell forward on the pile of folded clothes, her body perched on the breakfast stool.

  “Thank you.”

  “Who is he?” Susan asked quietly as Matt poured coffee and sighed gratefully when he pulled the small container of cream from inside the fridge.

  “Tony Martin,” Rose kept her head down, her shoulders shrugging. “A very bad mistake from…too long ago.”

  “He made it sound recent.”

  “I first met him when I was stupid and naïve…all of twenty-two,” she explained. “He was nice to me…I thought…he liked me…then I found out he liked me because I was the boss’s daughter and he had ambitions. I ended it and didn’t think about it again. About eighteen months ago, my father asked me to help with some audits in one of h
is companies. I said sure and went to work there. I never told my father what had happened. So he never knew. And Tony was in charge of the department that was being audited. Only now he’d married and had a child. He started…making passes…inviting me out…pig…”

  Rose lifted her head and stared out the window without seeing much.

  “I told him to leave me alone or I’d file sexual harassment charges against him,” she sighed. “I didn’t…and he didn’t stop…so I set him up. Invited him to lunch and forgot to mention I also invited his wife. He showed up first and was caught by his wife…she accused…I confirmed…and walked out, leaving them fighting in the middle of the restaurant.”

  “Is that why he lost his job?”

  “He wasn’t happy,” Rose knew her voice fell, the memory playing back and making her shiver, her hands on opposite shoulders as she spoke. “He came to my apartment a few weeks later…he hit me as soon as I opened the door. Several times…I was dazed…my clothes were torn…I had a friend visiting who came out and…Daphne hit him with a large vase of flowers…and called the police and paramedics. I even kept the file in my desk drawer…you might look at it so you know what he looks like. It’s kind of a reminder not to be so naïve and stupid, I think…I don’t know. I filed charges…and came out here to live. My father knew that time…and it cost him his job,” she seemed to return to the present, straightened and shook her head. “I think I’ll go to the gym…I’m sorry…”

  “Rose, no apologies needed at all,” Susan hugged her lightly. “No breakfast?”

  “No…thanks…you two have a great day…”

  Neither of them said anything. Matt set his coffee cup down and went to the office, returning a few minutes later with a large sealed envelope.

  “It’s not open,” Susan commented, reading the name on the outside.

  “Not yet,” Matt said, slicing the top and sliding the contents onto the counter top.

  “Oh, my god…” Susan put one hand over her mouth at the glossy photos that spilled onto the crème colored counter. Bright, vibrant colors of bruises and blood documented the aftermath. There was a photo of Rose with friends dated a few days before the attack. It was vastly different from the photos snapped of the unconscious woman lying on a hospital gurney.

  “Ahhh…fresh coffee…” Came the lilting Irish voice from the patio, his face flushed with fresh air and hair lightly misted from the incoming rain. His expression sobered immediately at the looks on their faces. “What’s wrong? Rose?”

  “She’s in the gym…probably discovering the rowing machine you bought her,” Matt said grimly. “She had a call. It upset her. She talked,” he watched the dark blue eyes deepen considerably as he thumbed through the photos and reports. He knew from experience his friend and boss was beyond anything even remotely resembling anger at the moment.

  “Where did these come from?” Came the terse inquiry, his hands steady as he slid everything back into the envelope, his hands wrapped around the edge of the counter.

  “Rose had them in her desk. She said she kept them to remind her not to be gullible,” Susan said softly, sliding a cup of coffee to him. “Do you want us to stay?”

  “No. Go off and enjoy your weekend,” Ryan met their concern with a nod. “I’ll deal with it,” he picked up her phone, opened it and read the print out of the number. “Did she eat?” He remembered what Daphne had told him. How she lost weight after the attack, lost her appetite.

  “No. Said she wasn’t hungry. Ryan…we can stay…” Matt held his wife’s hand tightly, the feeling to protect something too strong to ignore.

  “I’ll take care of her, thank you, both of you. Off with you. It’ll be fine. I’ll take her out for a time and get her to show me around.” Ryan waited until they were gone before taking the envelope and going to his office, dropping it into his briefcase and snapping it shut. He stood in the shower for a long, long time.

  Rose had intentions of learning to use Ryan’s weights or the resistance machine, but lost all thought when she saw the new rowing machine, complete with VR goggles and a huge red bow. She leaned against the arched door way and slid to the floor, just staring.

  That’s where he found her. He dropped to his heels beside her, one hand up and tugging on a gold hoop dangling from her ear.

  “Okay?”

  “I’m good…nice bow…”

  “Hmm…wonder where that came from?”

  “Can’t be Santa…I’m sure I’m on the naughty list…” Rose ignored the tear that slid free and rolled down her cheek.

  “If not, I’m sure we can work on your status,” Ryan teased, his chest aching when he saw the tear even as she offered a little smile. “Tell me you’re happy, Rose.”

  She blinked at the concern in his voice, turning her head and frowning slightly. “You’ve been talking to Matt and Susan…” She shoved against the floor and faced him when he followed her movements, the two of them leaned on opposite sides of the open archway. She took one of his hands with a little squeeze. “I’m very happy with you, Ryan Flannary, but that will not stop the…”

  “Maybe I wanted to take up rowing,” he told her cheekily, carrying her curled fingers to his lips and leading her back toward the kitchen. “I’m hungry. Let’s make breakfast.”

  “You don’t want to row…and you can’t just keep…keep buying me stuff,” she ordered petulantly.

  “Why?”

  “I…” Rose sputtered. “Because I said so.”

  “Oh, well, then that makes it official,” Ryan chuckled, ducking his shoulder when he felt her make a swing. “Ah-ah…if we fight now, there will be the mandatory make-up sex and we’ll miss breakfast…and just possibly, lunch.”

  “And you’re hoping that’s a deterrent or an incentive?” She asked sweetly, surprise in her eyes when he stopped and pulled her hard against him. Her mouth managed a little OH shape and there was a little yelp in her throat until his mouth settled firmly over hers.

  “I won’t allow him to hurt you, Rose, I promise you,” Ryan whispered against her lips. “Grab a jacket and let’s go find a quaint little breakfast place. Then we can explore.”

  Ryan pulled a hip length suede jacket from the closet behind the front door and lifted a set of keys from the board Matt had already mounted inside. He handed the keys to Rose when she came from the bedroom. His fingers tapped in the alarm code as he led her to the waiting SUV.

  “You don’t want to drive?” She asked curiously.

  “Not unless you want to be hopelessly lost for hours on end,” Ryan promised wryly, his grin crooked when she giggled and climbed behind the wheel. He watched her adjust things to her, the mirrors, the seat and the steering wheel before she started the car.

  “The resort does a nice breakfast brunch thing…let’s go there,” Rose suggested, accepting his nod and guiding them toward the resort. “I didn’t ask…how was the new running track?”

  “I think I’ll become quite attached to being able to run beside the water,” he answered honestly. “You should come out with me one morning. Watching the fog and steam roll over the water…if you’re running east, you can see the barest hints of colors coming over the rise.”

  “You really don’t want me bogging down your fun run time, Ryan,” she said with a laugh.

  “Hmm…images of a breathless you on the track do come to mind,” he teased. “What about skating? Several people were using roller skates or blading.”

  “I haven’t used blades in a few years,” she said after a quiet pause, the idea building approval in her mind. “If I went blading with you, I wouldn’t be able to complain about you getting up so early with energy to spare.”

  “It would remove one of your prime enjoyments,” he commented seriously, only a hint of laughter in his eyes when she glared at him.

  “I think I like the idea,” She declared as she slid from the car and walked to fit her palm into the one he held out to her. “I’ll need to find a pair of blades, though…and practice.�
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  “We have a massive back stone patio where you can practice, Rose.” Ryan eyed her selections after she’d paid for their breakfast bar and went to the quiet, almost empty line. “We need to find some stores and do some shopping when we’ve finished.” He didn’t stop the laughter at the expression she flashed him. “Never fight in public, darling,” he warned with a tsk-tsk sound.

  Rose smeared jam down the center of her French toast and rolled it, eating slowly. “I’m not sure it’s healthy for you to be so pleased with yourself.”

  “Matt believes you’re a god send to his sanity,” Ryan commented idly, enjoying the flavorful mushroom omelet. “We’ll need to get you the proper pads, too, Rose.”

  “I’m not playing roller derby, Ryan,” she said with a laugh, her hand up when he opened his mouth. “But agreed…at least for knees and elbows.”

  “We also need a furniture store. Something to outfit that other living area,” he said after a lively debate about her wearing a helmet.

  “We should make it a pub,” Rose declared with an animated smile. “A dart board and some comfy chairs and a nice bar thing…”

  “A pub,” he repeated slowly, savoring the sound and idea.

  “Susan told me how much you enjoy parties with genuine friends, as opposed to business associates. What’s more cozy and…and friendly…than a pub? And we need a catchy name…”

  Ryan felt his lips tugged into a grin. “The Wild Irish Rose.” He nodded, chuckling at the dusting of pink in her cheeks. “I like the idea. A pub it will be then, Rose.” He already knew just where to have the proper sign made to hang over the bar and outside the door.

  Rose slid her plate to the side and her elbows on the table, palms cupping her face as she watched him. “I’ve complicated your life.”

  Thrown at the statement, Ryan held the large cup of coffee between both hands, meeting her gaze.