If I Loved You (Harper Falls Book 1)

by Mary J. Williams

  Rose wiggled her phone at the stunned man. She almost felt sorry for him. Almost. Help get her off? That was the second time today someone had clumsily propositioned her. Was she wearing a sign that read Open For Business?

  Jack was waiting for her, opening the door almost before her car came to a stop.

  “Are you alright?” He pulled her into his arms. “Did that asshole touch you?

  “I’m fine. But what’s going on? Are you expecting some kind of an attack?”

  “Come inside and I’ll tell you all about it.”

  Rose waved at Pam as they passed. Everything looked normal in here. Whatever was going on, no one seemed to be terribly concerned. But before she could get an explanation, Jack had her in his office and pushed up against the closed door. His kiss, hard and demanding, drove all questions from her mind. The world could be ending and she wouldn’t care. All she needed was more of this, more of Jack. His tongue sought out hers, running slowly along the roof of her mouth before finding hers again, twining together in a sensuous game tag. Jack’s teeth gently bit her lower lip then sucked it into his mouth.

  “I’ve missed you.” He laid a trail of hot kisses along her jaw until he found that place, just under her ear, that drove her crazy. Her knees would have to buckled, but Jack wouldn’t let her fall. His strong arms lifted her, carrying her to his desk.

  "Honestly, Jack?” Rose moaned the words. “The desk? The rich businessman? Isn’t it a bit of a cliché?”

  Pushing everything out of the way, Jack lowered her until her back was flat on the cool, smooth surface. “You know why it’s a cliché, Rose?”

  “Why?” Her breath caught when Jack ripped her shirt open, buttons scattering in every direction. Her bra was unfastened and removed as if by magic.

  “It’s a cliché because works so damn well.”

  He pulled off her jeans and panties in one quick motion; her shoes flying across the room. “Beautiful” he breathed. His hand drifted across the slope of her stomach, settling between her legs. “So soft, so wet.”

  “Jack,” she moaned. His fingers were driving her higher, finding the perfect balance of pressure, knowing just when to advance and when to pull back. “Inside me, I need you now.”

  Rose gripped the edge of the desk with desperate fingers. She watched, panting, as Jack pulled his shirt over his head, tossing it in no particular direction. He made quick work of the rest of his clothes until he was as naked as she, standing between her open thighs, erect, ready.

  “Tell me again, Rose.” His voice was a low growl. “Tell me what you want.”

  She reached out, grasping his erection. “You, I need you.”

  “Then take me.”

  His entrance was a long, slow, fluid movement. Their eyes locked, their breathing matched. Finally, when he’d filled her, he kissed her again, urgent but tender. Rose reached up to grip his waist, and then lower until her hands cupped the firm cheeks of his butt. She pulled him to her, willing him to increase his speed, silently begging him to make her soar until she could crash into oblivion.

  “Come with me, Rose,” Jack commanded. “I can feel how close you are, come with me. Now!”

  His shouted his last word in release, a release so strong it triggered her orgasm. There seemed to be no end to the pleasure, wave after wave washed over her in a heated rush. And just when she thought she couldn’t take anymore, Jack’s mouth latched on to that spot again, the one right below her ear, and she sailed just a little bit farther.

  Jack smoothed his hand down Rose’s arm and laced his fingers with hers, pulling back just enough to see her face. Ah, there it was. That look he was beginning to crave, the one that said she had been thoroughly satisfied, and whether she knew it or not, thoroughly loved.

  Jack lifted her into his arms and carried her into the bathroom.

  “I can walk, Jack.” Maybe. Given time. When he sat her on the marble counter, Rose gave in and relaxed. Why argue? He was responsible for her being in this condition, let him take care of it. She wondered quite vaguely if she should be embarrassed when he gently washed between her legs with a warm cloth. But it felt so wonderful that there was no room for anything but the soothing pleasure. Thank you, she whispered, which earned her a smile and a light kiss.

  “We can nap if you’d like.” Jack carried her back into his office. She was so relaxed he thought she might have already fallen asleep. The idea of cuddling on his couch with her for a while was pretty appealing.

  “I’m not sleepy,” Rose said languorously. “Just very, very mellow. I didn’t know sex could do that. Does that happen all the time, Jack?”

  “No, sweetheart, not all the time.” Only with you.

  ROSE COULDN'T SLEEP.

  It was three in the morning; she’d had a busy day and the man in bed next to her had given her enough orgasms to put any woman into a blissfully comatose state. But instead, she was staring at the slit of light that was peeking through the closed curtains of her bedroom window. For the last fifteen minutes she’d waffled between getting up and adjusting the material, convinced that the little shard of light was what was keeping her awake. Or she could just turn over and forget it was there. Then there was the possibility that she was an idiot obsessing over tiny bit of moonlight. So she finally gave up. Sleep wasn’t coming.

  Careful not to wake Jack, Rose slipped out of bed. With a quick look at his sleeping form, she started to tiptoe out of the room. Naked. Right, she didn’t sleep in the nude. But after she and Jack had officially had sex in her bed for the first time, and the second and the third, there hadn't seemed much point in putting on her usual nightgown. After all, Jack had reasoned with her, in a few hours she would be naked again, she might as well save herself the effort. Of course, he’d been right. Grinning with the sexy memory, Rose grabbed her robe and headed to her music room.

  Edgar, asleep on the doggy bed that Jack had brought for him raised his head at the sound of feet on the stairs. The slap of his tail signaled his approval of the intruder. He knew Rose, liked the way she smelled. He liked the sound of her voice, and the way she somehow knew his favorite spot to be scratched. He loved Jack with unwavering doggy devotion; Jack was his number one. But Rose was a close second. Jumping from his bed, Edgar rushed to greet her with wiggling enthusiasm.

  “Hello.” Rose bent down and scratched Edgar’s muzzle, smiling at his whine of approval. “Do you need to go out, baby? Come on.”

  She waited while Edgar sniffed every inch of her back yard, the same back yard he’d explored when he and Jack had first arrived. But Rose didn’t mind waiting. She sat on the steps and let her mind wander back to last evening.

  After they'd dressed, Jack had invited her to his place for dinner. Rose hesitated. She was still feeling a bit shaky. She didn’t know what had happened between them, but it had been more than just sex. Something had shifted; it was subtle but unsettling. Spending the rest of the evening with Jack sounded right, natural. So maybe it would be better if she went home and gave herself some room to think. About what? She had no idea.

  “I’d rather go to my place, Jack.”

  “That’s fine. I’ll go pick up Edgar and then stop for a pizza. I shouldn’t be more than an hour behind you. Then over dinner I can tell you about all the excitement we had here this morning.”

  Right, she'd completely forgotten the guard at the gate. At some point she would have remembered and then it would have driven her crazy until she ended up calling Jack and getting the whole story. As Rose drove home, she reasoned that satisfying her curiosity was more important than being alone with her thoughts. Besides, those thoughts could be brutal when they wanted to be. Let them keep to themselves for a while. An evening of pizza, Jack and Edgar was much more appealing.

  Jack arrived, dog and pizza in tow, and after they'd settled down at her dining room table he gave her the scoop. It turned out the security problem was pretty hysterical, at least from an outside perspective. That morning, without warning, women started
arriving, lots of them. They wanted to meet the almost naked men from the video Jack had taken. The thing had been posted online almost a week ago and he and Drew had forgotten all about it. It never occurred to them that there would be a delayed mass pilgrimage, and while the women couldn’t get into any of the buildings, they were causing a traffic jam in the parking lot. There had never been any reason to lock the gates during business hours—until now.

  But before the gates could be closed they had to get the women out. Jack had taken pity on Drew and braved the frenzied throng.

  Rose had called him on that description. Frenzied? Really?

  But Jack stuck by his words. Over two dozen women ready to charge the first naked man they laid eyes on? Frenzied seemed kind.

  Rose conceded the point. Good thing he hadn't been naked. He hadn't, had he? Rose teased.

  Jack assured her he'd had all of his clothes on.

  It took him twenty minutes to make them understand that, as a rule, they didn’t run around in their underwear and that none of the men in the video were even on site anymore. He almost had them convinced when one of them called out for him to take his clothes off. It didn’t take long for that to become a popular idea, and Jack was soon running for cover. He ended up amplifying the outside speakers to inform the women that if they didn’t leave the premises now, and in an orderly fashion, he would be forced to call the police. That seemed to do the trick. After they had all cleared out, Jack posted men around the perimeter in case any of the women tried coming back. That was idiot boy had stopped her at the gate.

  It was a good story, Rose thought. But, to be honest, a little embarrassing for the female population. A good man might be hard to find, but come on ladies. Have some pride. Driving for hours on the off chance a guy you saw online was going to fall into your arms? Not cool.

  The feel of a wet nose on her hand pulled her attention back to the present and a happy dog with an empty bladder. Deciding she could use the company she invited him to join her down in her music room. Edgar only hesitated for a moment at the top of the unfamiliar stairs. He sniffed to get his bearings, gave Rose his best ladies first grin, and then trotted easily down behind her. Rose went into the nearby bathroom and filled a plastic bowl with water.

  “There you are, Edgar.” She set the bowl down away from anything that the dog could harm with his enthusiastic drinking style. “Make yourself at home. All I ask is that you don’t pee on any of my instruments. Licking is allowed, within reason. And you can sniff to your heart’s content.”

  Normally Rose would have picked up a guitar. It had always been her go to instrument. Her mind became more fluid when she strummed the strings. But tonight she gravitated to the keyboard on the far wall. She was a more than competent piano player. She used the electronic instrument mainly to provide a different sound when she was composing. Sometimes it helped to shake things up.

  Rose ran her fingers up and down the keys until they were warmed up and nimble. Then she just let them wander. There wasn’t any real tune, not to start with. Just a series of discordant notes played over and over again. The repetition settled her mind, cleared it of random thoughts. And as sometimes happened, that was when the melody came. Her hands took over and played what her mind couldn’t conceive. When the notes started making sense Rose reached over and hit the record button on the console. She’d done the same thing so many times she wasn’t even aware of doing it. Some part of her knew when it was time to preserve her ramblings. Later she would refine and polish, but right now she just needed to get the genesis of the song on tape.

  That was how Jack found them. Rose, eyes closed, playing an achingly haunting melody, and Edgar, head resting on the bench beside her, a look of pure adoration on his face. Jack knew how he felt.

  He had woken alone, his hand reaching for her warm body but finding nothing but empty bed and cold sheets. He stretched to his full length, which meant his feet were hanging off the bed by a good four inches. Rose might not have needed a bigger bed before, but she did now. He just had to figure out a way to convince her. He couldn’t just have a new bed delivered. She wouldn’t go for that. Jack bounced up and down, testing. If he broke it, it would be his responsibility to replace it. He’d think on it for a while. The solution would come to him. In the meantime, they would stay at his place.

  Rose wasn’t in the bathroom. Jack splashed some water on his face. Finding some mouthwash in the cupboard, he took a swig then spit the liquid into the sink. It was time to let Edgar out. He pulled on his jeans and headed down. But there was no dog and no woman. They weren’t in the backyard. While looking in the kitchen, Jack poured himself a glass of orange juice then drank it in three gulps. He was about to check to see if Rose’s car was in the garage when he heard the music. It was faint at first but grew louder as he walked towards the slightly ajar door. Music meant Rose. He felt his stomach as he started down the stairs. It had been crazy to worry, did he really think she was going to disappear in the middle of the night taking Edgar with her? Of course not. But he felt better knowing she was safe—and near.

  Rose let the last note linger before opening her eyes. Taking a deep breath, she rolled her neck, loosening the muscles. She suddenly noticed Edgar. He’d raised his head when she’d finished, his tail tapping his version of applause.

  “Did you like that?” she asked, wrapping her arms around his neck and burying her face in the warm fur.

  “It was amazing.”

  Rose jolted but stayed where she was. “Edgar, you’ve been holding out on me. But let’s not tell Jack. He doesn’t believe dogs can talk.

  Jack laughed. They made quite the picture—the adoring dog and the beautiful woman. Walking over he leaned down and gave Rose a kiss.

  “Mm,” Rose smacked her lips. “You taste like a minty orange. It’s a surprisingly good combination.”

  Jack cupped her cheek and ran his thumb over her bottom lip. Soft, slightly damp, and irresistible, he leaned down and kissed her again, this time doing a much more thorough job. Tired of being ignored, Edgar butted his head up between them until they pulled apart. Jack gave in and greeted the dog with a vigorous tummy scratch.

  “I meant what I said. That music was amazing.” Jack raised his eyes to the piano. He hit a few notes with one finger. “How do you put all those notes in order and get what you were playing? I could learn how to play but what you do, it’s magic, Rose.”

  “I know how to use my computer but I could never write a program for it, especially one as intricate and complicated as the ones you write.”

  “Not exactly the same thing.”

  “Technically, no.” Rose patted the bench, inviting him to join her. After he had sat down, she played a simple pattern and motioned for him to repeat it.

  “Every song starts the same. You have all the notes, the sharps, and the flats. All the variations are right in your head.” She played the same notes again, but this time adding to its complexity. “Did you know that Irving Berlin couldn’t read music?” Rose played the opening of her favorite Berlin song.

  “Songs like They Can’t Take That Away From Me? He would play the chords or sometimes just hum the melody, and a professional arranger would write it down.” Rose sang a few lines then finished with a flourish. “I know, what does that have to do with anything? Nothing, really. Just a bit of music trivia to liven up your evening.”

  “Interesting,” Jack conceded. “Is this your way of telling me you can’t read music?”

  “Nope. I, my friend, can do it all.” She pounded out a little Scott Joplin. Edgar yipped with approval. “Ah, a ragtime fan. Next time we watch a movie we’ll have to get The Sting. Edgar will be in heaven.” She hit the keyboards off button. “But to answer your original question, I write almost every day and some of it is good. Some of it’s very good. But the magic, that’s rare. The music you heard, I don’t know where it came from. I’ve been trying to find just the right sound Romantic but not sappy. Sensual, but not overtly sexy. Tonight I hi
t it. That, my friend, will be the love theme for Wishes.”

  Jack frowned. “Wishes? Why does that sound familiar?”

  “Best seller? Currently being made into a movie?” Rose decided to cut Jack some slack. He wasn’t exactly the target audience for an epic love story that spanned ten years and three continents.

  “Your mother and sisters have probably read the book.” Not wanting to be sexist she added, "And maybe your dad."

  “I remember now.” Jack eyes widened. “Rose, this is a big deal. You could win an Oscar.” His gaze drifted to the shelves across the room. “To go with your three Grammys. Rose, you have three Grammys.”

  Amused, Rose watched as Jack rushed over to examine the awards. She was proud of them. But she kept them down here where very people ever came because her success was a private thing.

  “You wrote Grind?” Jack turned towards her holding the double platinum record that she had been awarded a few months before.

  She waited for one of the varied responses she always got. First, everyone wanted to know who the song was about. And second, they wanted her to know how they liked to play the song to seduce women or, like Principal Harriman, used it as a sexual aid.

  “I play it every day when I run. Edgar’s a big fan.”

  Well, Rose thought with delight, that was a new one.

  “Don’t you want to know my source of inspiration?”

  Jack replaced the record, his mind still on the coincidence of Rose having written something he listened to every day. Then all of a sudden it hit him what she was asking.

  “Are you crazy?” Jack shuddered at the thought. “Please, I’m begging you, keep it to yourself.”

  “But everyone wants to know.” Rose hid her grin. She couldn’t tell if Jack was slightly jealous or embarrassed. Either way she was loving his response.

  “I don’t,” he stated emphatically. “Now can we change the subject?”

  Rose got up. She shut off the lights and closed the door behind them.