Chapter Four
Rose woke to a shaft of soft morning light filtering between the drapes, slanting across her eyes. Her headache was better, and she pulled herself into a sitting position. Across the room, she noticed Adam asleep in the recliner, his head resting on her Sock Monkey.
He'd stayed all night acting as the nurse she hadn’t thought she needed.
Several times he’d shaken her awake, asking the most asinine questions. Why did he need to know what year it was at midnight? And she couldn’t have cared less who the President was at three in the morning.
While she watched, his eyelids opened, and he stretched his long legs. When he noticed she was awake, he smiled, and her stomach did a dip and a shiver.
The man was gorgeous in a rough, lean muscled sort of way. She had to admit, the way his Wranglers fit was just what the doctor ordered. She was usually attracted to the business suit kind of guy. Well, hell, it had been so long since she’d had the time or desire for a man, her tastes must have changed. She blinked then managed a small smile in return. Waking to Adam put a whole different spin on her day.
Adam clasped his hands over his head and stretched. Muscles rippled along his arms and stomach and a narrow, tan patch of skin appeared between his T-shirt and Wranglers.
Holy crap!
If she'd known she’d be treated to this kind of scenery, she’d have developed a head injury much sooner. It had been a long time since she'd stared at a man this good looking, and the best thing was if he noticed her gawking, she’d blame it on her concussion.
“How are you feeling this morning?” As Adam opened the curtains to let in more light, he glanced at her over his shoulder. “Coffee, or would you rather have tea?”
“I don’t like tea,” she said, but he’d already moved into the kitchen. She could hear cupboard doors opening and pans clanking. He ambled back through the doorway and stopped by the sofa. “I decided you should have tea. It’ll be ready in a few.”
She’d promised him he could drop her off then be on his way. He’d already stayed much longer than she’d planned. Much as it pained her, it was time to cut him loose and say goodbye.
“My headache’s almost gone, and I know you’re busy. Thanks for your help, but I can take care of myself now.” To prove her statement, she stood, but the pain pills combined with the lack of breakfast caused the world to do a little pirouette without asking her permission. If Adam hadn't caught her, she'd have landed on her butt. Better than her head, but not much.
Darn, she was getting tired of this. Not tired of him holding her—his warm, strong arms around her felt amazing—but tired of the falling-down-all-the-time thing.
He eased her onto the cushion and tucked the blanket around her body. “Yeah, I can tell you're ready to take on Jesse Ventura.”
“The guy who was Minnesota’s governor?”
“Yes, but he was a WWE champion before he went crazy and got into politics.” He gave her a mock serious look. “Stay put, and I'll get you something to drink.”
“What I really need is to use the bathroom and brush my teeth.” As Rose stood, still a little shaky on her feet, Adam curled one arm around her back and slid the other beneath her legs, lifting her with ease.
On a normal day, she would have fought to get out of his arms, but she wasn’t on her game yet, and besides, it was kind of nice. Still, she felt the need to put up a token protest. “Hey, put me down. I can walk.”
He ignored her objections as he carried her into the bathroom. After leaning her against the sink, he searched the vanity drawers until he found her toothbrush and a tube of Crest.
“Thank you very much. I haven’t had anyone prepare my toothbrush since I was two.”
Handing her the brush, he smiled. “Glad to be of help, Ma’am. Anything else I can do for you?”
Rose blushed. Only one thing left for him to help with, and she wasn’t going to go there. “I think I can handle it from here. Close the door on your way out.”
Adam reached out and put a finger on the magazine page taped to the wall beside the mirror. “What’s this?”
“Nothing. Just a room I liked.” Rose studied the page ripped from House Beautiful. The soft teal walls and white wainscoting were a soothing background to the exotic dark wood vanity. Centered over the freestanding tub was an oval, leaded-glass window. This was her favorite bathroom so far, and one day, when she owned a house, maybe this could be hers.
Most likely, it was wishful thinking. The closest she’d get to the lovely bathroom was looking at it on her wall. She turned back to Adam and shrugged.
Adam glanced at the photo then back at Rose. “Okay, I’ll make us an omelet while you clean up.”
“Yes,” Rose said as she moved across the room. “The tub. I’m taking a bath.” She turned the faucets on, and steam rose from the hot water. “This is just the thing to make me feel better.”
Adam turned in the doorway, his hand on the edge. “Are you sure you’re up for this?”
Her eyes narrowed, and she gave him the dirtiest look she could muster. He must think she was helpless as a gerbil.
“Okay then, on one condition,” he said. “You promise me you won't drown?” He walked to the tub and adjusted the handles, trailing his fingers in the water until he was satisfied with the temperature.
A smartass answer sprang to her lips, but he’d gone out of his way to help her so she swallowed the words. Besides, she could handle something as simple as a bath. “I’ll be careful and call if I need help,” she said with the demeanor of a teenager who’d been caught sneaking out the window.
Fat chance she’d let him in here after she was naked. As soon as he’d closed the door, she flipped the lock. Pulling off the clothes she’d worn since the accident, she stepped gingerly into the tub.
Rose had found heaven. Having a clean face and teeth and soaking in a tub of steaming water was delightful. The heat helped unknot her aching muscles. Eyes closed, she relaxed. Her headache was background noise as the latest pill began to do its job.
The third time Adam knocked on the door to ask if she was okay, Rose snapped. “I’m fine. I’m an adult. I’ve been taking baths by myself for several years.” She sank back into the water as she listened to his footsteps fade away.
Finally, peace.
The only thing left was to wash her hair. The water was beginning to cool, so she slid down until only her face peeked out. She ran her fingers through the wet strands, sat up and rubbed in her lilac-scented shampoo.
Bubbles floated along the edge of the tub as she leaned back and rested before rinsing. The moist heat in the room smelled wonderful. What she had here was aromatherapy at its cheapest, but now it was time to get the shampoo out of her hair and head for breakfast then bed and a nap.
Lowering her body into the water, she swished her hair until it was soap free. The only shampoo left was a small spot on the top of her head near her face. When she tipped her head back to get at the shampoo, the tub spun like the Tasmanian devil.
Rose tried to push herself up, but she was having trouble telling which way up was. Water splashed in her face, splattering into her eyes and running into her nose. Her arms flailed while trying to grab the edge of the tub. In a panic, she cried out.
She was going under again when the door flew open.
Hands grabbed her upper arms, and she was lifted clear of the water. Dragging air into her lungs, she leaned against Adam, letting his strength support her. The dizziness was subsiding, but exhaustion was taking its place.
Adam wrapped her in a towel and wiped her down.
He shook out another towel, draped it over her head and rubbed until water stopped dripping from her hair onto her shoulders. He looked her over, his gaze sending shivers chasing through her body.
“You’re cold. We’ll worry about styling your hair later,” he said pushing the wet, ropey strands out of her eyes.
Before she could thank him, he’d lifted her and carried her to the couch. S
ettling her on the cushions, he began tucking the quilt around her, working his way from her chin to her toes. When he was done, he’d wrapped her up like a papoose on a winter’s day.
“Good thing I made tea. I think you need a cup,” he said as he headed for the kitchen.
“I don’t like tea,” she answered, but her voice came out as a whisper. He couldn’t have heard if he’d been right beside her.
A few minutes later he came back, cradling a steaming mug.
At the sight of him, her mind finally caught up with her memory and an appalling thought popped into her consciousness. “How did you get into the bathroom?” she asked, her voice gaining strength. “I locked that door.”
“About that. Don’t worry, I can fix the door jamb.”
“You broke my door?” She tried to push herself into a sitting position but failed. She was exhausted, her pillow was soaking wet, and he’d broken her door. “You broke my door!” Tears filled her eyes.
“It was break the door or let you drown. I had to make a spur of the moment decision,” he said, staring at her with an exasperated look on his face. “Maybe I made the wrong one.”
As she blinked, trying to clear her vision, another thought pushed its way into her foggy brain. She gasped and pulled the blanket tight beneath her chin. “You knocked down my door, and you saw me naked. I need a better lock.”
“Good idea,” Adam said. The corners of his mouth curled into a grim smile. “You're right. If you’d had a better lock, you'd have drowned, and then the paramedics would have seen you naked.”
“But, I—” She started to explain, but he interrupted like she wasn’t there.
“You'd have been laid out on a slab at the morgue, and the coroner and his assistants would have seen you naked.”
“Yes, but—”
“The mortician would have seen you naked, too. But I wouldn't have seen you naked for the split second it took to pull you out and wrap you up. An impenetrable bathroom would have been a lot better. Remember that next time.” He stood, his arms crossed over his chest, glaring.
His voice contained a snotty tone she didn't think was needed to get his point across. “Yes, okay, you're right. Thank you for pulling me out,” she said. Her cheeks burned red, some from the heat of the bath, but mostly her embarrassment. “I shouldn't have tried to wash my hair, but it seemed like a simple thing.” She needed to change the subject. “Could I please have the tea now?”
“You don’t like tea, remember,” he said then took a sip. “I made this for me.”
He had heard then. She snuggled deeper into the quilt, her hair making a wet spot on the pillow. Why couldn’t she learn to keep her mouth shut? Any hot drink would have been good right now.
He grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled it away from his chest. “Oh look, my T-shirt’s wet.” He set the mug on the table beside her. Grabbing his shirt by the back of the collar, he pulled it over his head. “Mind if I use your dryer?”
“Uh, yeah, no,” she said. The sight of his long lean muscles and warm tan skin reduced her to single syllables.
“Drink the tea. It’s got honey for your throat,” he called as he gathered the wet towels and carried the whole lot into the laundry room.
If she hadn’t been overheated before, she was now. Adam was better than good-looking fully dressed. Shirtless, he sent her brain into overdrive.
As he came back into the room, she made herself look away. She didn’t need him to catch her staring like an addlepated schoolgirl. She’d used up her quota of foolish for the day.
She hadn’t looked away quick enough, not before noticing he’d slipped into a western shirt but hadn’t bothered to button it. Things just kept getting better and better.
“I found one of your T-shirts in the dryer,” he said, laying the bundle of cloth on her lap. “While you get dressed, I’ll make myself a cup of coffee. I promise not to peek.”
She’d had time to slip into the wrinkled shirt and, oh God, the panties he’d left, when he appeared holding a small orange bottle.
“Time for your next little wonder pill.” He shook one out then helped her sit up enough to swallow it without spilling water on her dry shirt. As he tucked the blanket around her legs, he said, “Let’s see if you can take a nap without falling off the couch.”
“One question first,” she said, looking at him.
“There’s always one more question with you.” He sat in the chair and leaned back, his hands behind his head. “What this time?”
“I know your name, and that you’re Simon Howell’s grandson, but where are you from? What do you do?” She sank back into the pillow, never taking her eyes off of him.
Adam’s eyes closed and he let out a long breath. Seconds stretched into minutes before he spoke. “I live in Wheatland, Wyoming, and I ride bareback broncs at the summer rodeos. In between rodeos, I work construction.”
“You don’t!” she said incredulity raising her voice.
“What, work in construction?” he asked, his brow furrowed in confusion.
“No, ride those wild horses. I’ve watched those guys on TV, and they’re crazy.”
“Better to be crazy and do something you love than to waste your life.” He sat straight up and waved one hand toward her. “How about you? Are you doing something you love?”
She wasn’t sure how to answer that question, and she was too wrung out to think. Her head was beginning to feel like the little shoemaker was pounding tacks into her brain, so she swallowed the medicine and closed her eyes. She’d have to wait until she was rested to come up with an appropriately snooty retort.
As her eyes shut, she wondered what time it was. Then she realized she didn’t even know what day it was. A call into work would be the right thing to do, but somehow it didn't seem important enough to put off sleep.
-#-
Lillian sat stroking her fingers across the smooth wood of the antique, oak desk Simon Howell had used to conduct his business for over fifty years. She’d spent most of the night forging her strategy, and she’d come up with what she was sure was a winner. After all, she knew more about old man Howell’s business than even his accountants.
The chances of Adam fulfilling the terms of the will were next to none, but on the off chance he did, it was crucial she have access to his plans.
One way or another, she’d convince him he needed her then work to become as essential to Adam Howell as she’d been to his grandfather. If he made a success out of this venture, she'd be right beside him helping herself to the spoils. If he failed, which was more likely, she'd get the whole pot.
His move into the mansion on Monday would make it easy for her to become indispensable. It would only be natural for her to continue as the secretary for Howell Enterprises, Inc. If she played her cards right, she’d become more than hired help. She knew these small businesses inside out and knew exactly how to make them go broke.
A smile spread across her face. She wasn't sure anyone could make them succeed.
Mr. Howell had kept them afloat just for this purpose, crushing his grandson one last time. She'd been shocked when the old man had left her a pittance in the will. It had taken her most of the night to realize he’d really left her everything.
All she had to do was wait and watch Adam do a nosedive. It wouldn’t be hard. She could be a patient woman when the stakes were high enough. Besides, with his broad shoulders and slim hips, Adam was just the kind of man she craved, and it had been a long time since she’d been involved with anyone. This might be fun.
Climbing the stairs to her second floor apartment, she grinned. “Simon, you old goat, you set this up. I can have a lot of fun and still end up with all the money. Either you like me more than I thought, or you really, really hated your grandson.”
She heard the echoes of her voice bouncing through the big house. A shiver ran down her spine. Had that been Simon’s laugh?
Now, I’m imagining things. Lillian shook her head but locked the bedroom do
or just to be sure. Mr. Howell is gone, and, thank God he isn’t coming back.
After only a few hours of sleep, she sprang out of bed, anticipation flying around her like a static charge. It was time to put her plan into motion.
First on her list this morning, doing something about her looks. Mr. Howell, or as she called him behind his back, the old goat, had always demanded she dress in proper business attire. At least he’d paid for the prim, wool suits. Too bad he liked business attire from the thirties. He’d insisted she wear her hair in a severe bun and keep her face devoid of makeup.
“I won’t allow any secretary of mine to look like a tramp, Miss Keeler. Is that understood? ” He’d told her the same thing every time she tried to make the least little change in her appearance.
Everything was changing today.
She’d donate every one of the expensive, outdated suits she'd worn for years to Dress for Success, a non-profit organization designed to help women get jobs. Before Simon Howell had hired her, she’d worked low-end jobs while taking business classes at the community college as she could afford them.
When she’d found his ad for a secretary, the dressiest thing Lillian had owned was a denim skirt, a micro-mini denim skirt. Dress for Success had not only given her appropriate clothing, but also the ability to walk into the interview with confidence. Without their help, Simon wouldn’t have looked at her twice.
She’d been lucky to land the job with Mr. Howell. Although the working conditions were less than great, Simon had paid enough for her to put up with his bad manners. The day Simon Howell died, her luck shot through the roof. This was her golden chance.
She’d spent a large portion of her life slaving away for the old man, and she wasn't going to blow this opportunity. When she’d found him cold in his bed, her first call was to his doctor. Her second was to the Trinidad Day Spa.
With a few hours to go before her appointment, Lillian started a long dreamed of shopping spree. Twenty thousand dollars would buy a lot of pretty things.
By the time she made it to the Spa, she'd maxed out her credit cards, and her car was full of shopping bags. The ones she was most excited about were labeled Victoria’s Secret. She was going to use every tool in her arsenal to guarantee her success this time.
Radio Rose (Change of Heart Cowboys Book 1) Page 5