Not even Bronte knew how much she pined after Alexander. And Bronte Ferranti knew pretty much everything there was to know about Rosemary Gordon. It was the one secret, a dark secret, Rosie had kept from her friend and Rosie hugged it, kept it close to her heart.
She’d also squirrelled treasured mementos of her dark little secret in a locked wooden box under her bed.
A part of her wondered if her fixation with Alexander was healthy because contained in that box were items with which a shrink would have a field day.
In no particular order, the purloined souvenirs included; Alexander’s lucky cricket ball he’d lost when he’d been sixteen. A pair of solid silver cuff links he’d been awarded for rowing at eighteen - and still bemoaned the loss of today. The fragile gold chain with a tiny gold hand bag and tiny gold shoe he’d given her for her sixteenth birthday. Valentine cards she’d written every year since her twelfth birthday and never sent. Newspaper and magazine clippings documenting him receiving his degree along with many business successes and a fabulous tie in pure silk by Armani.
The tie was her most recent acquisition.
He’d left it behind at a party at Bronte’s and she’d snuck it into her bag. The decision to take it had been made on the spur of the moment and to be honest the fact that she’d done such a thing both disturbed and shamed her. Even now her cheeks heated in mortification. No one must ever know she was a thief as well as madly in love with a man she’d never ever have.
Christ, alarm had her gripping her throat. Did that mean she was a stalker?
And if Bronte ever found out... Rosie shivered. How embarrassing would that be?
With a heartfelt sigh she carefully wheeled the cake into the cool room and checked the temperature before she closed the door.
Not that she let her undying, unrequited love for Alexander Ludlow get her down. Nope. Most of the time she didn’t even think of him. Yeah right, her conscience snorted.
Going through the motions she filled the kettle, switched it on, emptied the coffee pot and decided to make a fresh pot to take into the garden. All the while her mind went over the same old thorny issue.
Rosie knew Alexander would never look at her in a romantic way and not just because she didn’t come from the same background either.
Her late grandfather had toiled down a coal pit in the north of England. Although to be fair, the twelve year old Alexander had hung on to her grandfather’s every word when he used to tell tall tales of his life.
Their mothers had been best friends. And the families, in spite of the differences or perhaps because of them, had been close. Anyway, her background was nothing to be ashamed of Rosie told herself as she poured hot water into the pot and sank the plunger down.
Her father had worked hard for over thirty-five years and fought his way to the top in the oil industry. Due to the amount of travelling he and her mother did, they’d sent Rosie to boarding school with Bronte.
Alexander Ludlow found Rosie Gordon a, ‘Total pain in the ass and a bad influence on his sister.’ She knew that for an absolute fact since he’d told her often enough.
But the main issue that would never be overcome was she simply wasn’t his type. Alexander liked his women bean pole slim, immaculate and blonde. Like that slapper Janine. The memory made her scowl as she took her favourite mug, pink with white polka dots, out of the cupboard.
Rosie’s black hair with the riotous curls was like a bird’s nest on a good day. She was five foot three and three quarter inches tall. She’d never be skinny no matter how hard she tried, and God knew she’d tried.
Moving to the fridge to take out cream for her coffee, she changed her mind and closed the door with a bad tempered thud.
Alexander was attracted to women with names like Lucinda, Tabitha or Imogen with cut glass accents. Trustafarians like bloody Janine she fumed. The name Rosie didn’t roll off the tongue in quite the same way. She’d gone to a good school but she certainly didn’t have a trust fund.
And everything was soft about his women; their hair, their skin, their voices. Women who glided, who’d been taught deportment and, ‘How to be a lady,’ she said out loud in her best Lady Grantham impersonation.
Rosie had been taught how to climb trees, to scream like a banshee and to suck up tears at the sting of skinned knees.
Her father was big, broad and as strong as a bull, but gentle in his love for his little family. While her mother might be petite with dark eyes, she had the roar and the heart of a lion. Her mother’s displeasure made her big father cringe and her delight made him light up like a Christmas tree. They loved each other deeply.
Pouring fragrant coffee into her mug Rosie knew that was the type of love she wanted for herself and would settle for nothing less.
However, something Rosie simply could not get her head around was the mystifying truth that Alexander still hadn’t found the one. In fact he hadn’t even come close and why was that?
She frowned and took a careful sip. Now she’d come to think of it, like her he’d been in a dry spell for too many months. He worked too hard. Maybe that was it; maybe he hadn’t met a woman who could put up with the amount of travelling he did. Business came first with Alexander and not many women were prepared to put up with that sort of thing these days.
And what was she doing thinking about him as if she had nothing better to do?
Irritated with herself for indulging in a useless daydream and with her mother for causing it, Rosie prepared to clean up and leave on time for once.
This was her favourite part of the day.
Sweet Sensations had moved from The Dower House of Ludlow Hall, to the Tithe Barn just outside of town. Josh Erichsen, Nico’s architect, had done a fabulous job of creating the perfect working, living space for the business and for her. The sprawling open plan annex at the rear of the property was a self contained unit with its own entrance and she absolutely loved it.
She’d just placed the cake topper in the cool room when the arrival of a black glossy Range Rover in the car park had Rosie growl in her throat.
Think of the devil and it was sure to appear.
Her heart, an organ that most of the time gave her no trouble, did its usual little shimmy whenever she saw him.
A tall man with wide shoulders and immaculately cut hair the colour of ripe chestnuts got out. Alexander Ludlow had a haunting male beauty that attracted women like cats to catnip. For too many years she’d watched intelligent women lose the power of speech when they spotted him for the first time. Their eyes went wide, their faces flushed and their breath caught.
With something like loathing in her chest she watched him scroll through messages on his cell phone and a vivid memory of the first time Alexander had fallen in love flashed into her mind. How those sea green eyes had gone all dark, hot and hungry when he’d looked at Lucinda Menzies-Smith, a tall, leggy blonde with no boobs and big eyes of vacant blue. Rosie had been sixteen and it had nearly killed her. She’d managed to avoid him until her late teens, knowing even then that her secret devotion to him had the power to destroy.
And not much had changed she admitted now, absolutely furious with herself when lust curled horribly in her gut just because the bastard was laughing with someone on the phone.
It was a very true saying that there was a fine line between love and hate.
These feelings eating her alive were a total waste of a life.
The time had come for her to move on. A fresh start was just what she needed. Time to grow-up, Rosie, and time to find out what the future held.
Nothing was going to happen here.
Alexander wasn’t going to be struck by lightning and really see her. That sort of thing happened in romance novels, not in real life. And she couldn’t go on like this.
Her mother was right. She needed to compromise. She needed to stop living in her head, get her finger out, do some intelli-dating and find someone who ticked most of her boxes.
Omigod, now she was thinking in clich�
�s!
The trouble was no other man made her respond to him like Alexander did. No other man could drive her crazy like Alexander did. No other man made her act out the way he did either. But there was a big wide world out there, surely there was someone in it, a man, who would want and need her the way she needed to be needed?
Alexander Ludlow mooned over no one and she’d put good money on it he never gave Rosemary Margaret Gordon a second thought. And that awful truth brought a hot lump of self-pity to her throat.
Christ, she was pathetic.
Those vivid eyes caught hers through the window and Alexander gave her a smile that lifted her heart. If he’d only leave her alone, get out of her life, find a woman and settle down, then surely this emotional roller coaster she’d lived with for too many years would pass? But since the business had moved and her parent’s relocation to Cyprus, he’d taken to casually dropping in two or three times a week to shoot the breeze with the staff and to make sure she was okay. Along with pinching the odd muffin and drinking her coffee. In fact, he’d been using her space as his own personal coffee shop, doing the big brother thing and sticking his nose into her business for months.
Strolling through the door now like a big lazy cat as if he owned the place, Alexander had the face of a warrior, all plains and angles. He had a wide forehead with heavy brows. And deep set eyes of sea green which changed colour according to his mood. The nose was long and straight. But it was the wide mouth that did it for her every single time.
One day, Rosie grimly promised herself, she was going to kiss that mouth, with tongues.
By the bespoke charcoal suit, white shirt and silk tie, he’d either come from The Hall or was returning from a meeting. The black Italian leather shoes, she had a thing for shoes, probably cost as much as her monthly salary. Look at him, Mr GQ, all long and lean and delectably gorgeous.
Seriously annoyed with him and with herself for being so pitiful, Rosie didn’t return Alexander’s quick grin.
Ignoring the strange little jolt in her tummy, she painted a faintly bored expression on her face.
‘Hey, you,’ Alexander greeted her. He had a lovely deep resonant timbre to his voice that struck a chord deep within her.
He strode through the reception area into the huge open plan kitchen.
His eyes, a sparkling green, met hers.
At her lack of response those slashing brows rose.
He moved into her personal space and she got a wonderful whiff of a healthy male in his prime and his cologne which did dangerous things to her hormones.
Rosie swallowed a wretched whimper.
Alexander’s thumb and forefinger gently gripped her chin.
‘What’s with the face?’
She slapped his hand away, spun to the coffee pot to top up her mug and hide the unexpected heat in her cheeks.
What was the matter with her? He’d touched her loads of times and she hadn’t reacted like this. Her throat appeared to have dried up.
Taking a sip of coffee, she turned back to study him over the rim of the mug.
He ran the tip of his tongue over his top teeth, a sure sign he was irritated.
Her conscience reminded her it was bad to take her mood out on him. How was it his fault that she was crazy about him?
‘My face is fine. What do you want?’
At the belligerent tone, Alexander took a couple of steps back and held up his hands in a peace gesture.
‘Whoa, I’m going to turn around, leave, come back and we can start again.’
‘Stop being stupid. What do you want?’
Those eyes went dark now and as sharp as a blade.
‘A coffee would be nice if you can spare one.’ The voice was soft, the tone cool.
A sliver of aroused panic ran up her spine. This was ridiculous and her pulse was banging in her throat. Too much caffeine? She couldn’t do this. She couldn’t sit and chat as if he was a normal person and she felt nothing.
Something must have shown in her expression because he moved closer, those glittering eyes narrowing fractionally as they searched her face.
Panic had Rosie retreat against the worktop, a fact which made her tone sharp and unleashed her inner bitch.
‘Don’t they serve coffee up at The Hall? Your little harem not bowing and scraping to their lord and master these days?’ The administration staff at Ludlow Hall were lovely and she knew it. But they were all uniformly young, tall and blonde. And all happily married Rosie reminded herself. But the poison just kept on coming. ‘I’m very busy. Too busy to waste time with someone like you.’
Fast as a snake he moved in and placed a hand either side of her on the worktop.
She closed her eyes to that marvellous mouth. And God he smelt fabulous.
Rosemary Gordon never trembled - she didn’t do trembling. But she was trembling now.
‘Harem? Someone like me? What the hell’s got into you?’
Since he was in her personal space, in her face, she grabbed a hold of the spike of temper like a lifeline.
She smacked her palm on his wide chest and pushed.
He didn’t shift.
‘Back off!’ Her eyes collided with his.
He stepped away, held up his palms.
‘Okay, what did I do?’ he demanded.
Her breath caught in her throat as her heart thundered in her ears.
She couldn’t do this.
‘Nothing, you haven’t done a thing. Please, Alexander, leave me alone.’
Why was she behaving like a moron? The man was looking at her as if she’d grown another head. Those green eyes were so full of concern she couldn’t meet them. So she concentrated on that strong manly jaw and suppressed the insane desire to nibble along the edge.
Rosie took a shaky breath. ‘Look, it’s been a bad day, okay?’
Alexander grabbed her, pushed her into a chair, pulled up another to sit in front of her and took her hands in his. Her blood did a fast boogie of delight in her veins and sped to pool hot liquid deep in her belly and fill her breasts.
Oh, no, no, no.
His voice went soft and low, ‘What’s the matter, angel face? Who’s upset you?’
Her mind went a complete blank as she simply stared at their joined hands.
His thumbs were stroking her knuckles in a smooth rhythm and her throat went bone dry.
How the hell was she going to get out of this unscathed?
She shook her head. ‘I’ve just got off the phone with my mother.’
He gripped her hands tighter. ‘What’s happened, are they okay?’
The response was so typical of him it broke her crazy mood.
Rosie gave a soft laugh and met his eyes.
‘They’re fine. She wants me to give her a grandchild, sooner rather than later.’
He released her hands, sat back and grinned.
Rosie decided she was seriously losing it because as soon as he let her go she had the sensation of being cast adrift, abandoned even.
‘Who’s the lucky man?’
The grin turned into a big cheesy smile.
Annoyance with that smile had her narrow her eyes and stare deep into his.
‘You are.’
Chapter Two
For a couple of heartbeats Alexander thought she was deadly serious.
Big eyes the colour of melted treacle stared into his and he had the weirdest sensation of drowning.
Was that a flash of something like... desire?
But then it was gone. Probably his imagination he told himself.
Thick Bambi lashes blinked once, twice and then she grinned at him, her mood changing in a flash.
‘Gotcha!’
Her mouth was wide with a sexy full bottom lip. He’d noticed that bottom lip many times before and did his level best to ignore it now, but his mouth watered.
Her hair was hidden under a white chef’s bandana in pristine cotton. He knew those glossy curls, the colour of jet, usually tumbled around her shoulders, dow
n her back, and he fought the urge to release them from confinement. Her face was flushed. Those high cheekbones covered in smooth skin made his fingers itch to touch to see if it was as soft as it looked.
Running a hand over the back of his neck, his jaw, he had the peculiar feeling of stepping into a mine field.
The idea that she was upset even angry with him still tickled his gut. But he decided to leave it for the moment.
The thing about Rosie was she could be temperamental and she tended to take the odd shot at him for no apparent reason.
However, she never held a grudge and whatever he’d done she’d tell him, eventually.
‘Funny. Talking of babies, Julie’s due to return from maternity leave next week and I wondered if you could make her a cake. You know, a sort of welcome back to work cake,’ he explained.
Those dark eyes sparkled into his now and he found he didn’t know what to do with his hands, so he stood and thrust them into his trouser pockets.
‘Aww, that’s a lovely idea,’ she said in a tone so filled with longing it had him study her carefully and wonder what the hell her mother had said. On the whole Rosie’s relationship with her parents was close, but there were times when she and her opinionated mother clashed.
He watched her as she rose, crossed to the counter and flipped open a big black diary. She’d always had a curvy but tight little body. Had she lost weight? And she looked stressed, tired. Working too hard?
Picking up a pen Rosie turned to him with big eyes.
‘When do you want it?’
‘Ah, Thursday if you can manage it.’
Gorgeous eyebrows the colour of coal winged into her hairline as she scanned the busy pages.
‘Thursday?’ Those fabulous eyes turned to him in amazement and she articulated each word very slowly as if talking to an idiot, ‘Are you having a laugh?’
Chewing on his top lip he winced as she jabbed the page with her forefinger.
He leaned over her shoulder, scanned the pages. She ran the business with military precision and by the look of things she’d been up since five-thirty this morning. The scent of sugar, vanilla and warm, sexy woman tantalised his senses and he took a deep inhale.
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