Sugar and Sin Bundle

by Stacey Joy Netzel

  ‘She married my brother.’

  Rosie wound her arms around him and hugged him, hard. ‘I’m sorry. Are they happy?’

  ‘Blissfully, with two children and one on the way.’

  ‘That’s a shame. If Alexander married anyone but me I’d pray he’ll be miserable for the rest of his rotten life.’

  Josh’s deep laugh vibrated through her and made her smile.

  ‘You’re a good friend, Rosemary Gordon.’

  ‘So are you, Joshua Erichsen.’

  Chapter Ten

  Alexander hadn’t slept.

  Every night of his life, without fail, he went out like a light. Every night.

  But last night, he’d tossed, he’d turned, he’d changed the pillow, he’d had a double brandy and nada.

  Now he was up at the crack of dawn on his day off and had nothing to do.

  How the hell had that happened?

  He could cruise through the barn conversion, do a snagging list. But a team had blown through it yesterday, no point in duplicating work.

  He liked being close to the The Hall and his heritage and still have his privacy. The new space was just right for him, the way it opened onto the huge entrance hall, dining room and sitting room was a great entertaining space when he had his pals over.

  Wearing brushed cotton pants slung low on is hips, he switched on his coffee.

  Usually the first cup made him human, woke him up, made him feel ready to face the day. Not today it didn’t.

  Rosie was a good friend. A close friend. And he had strong feelings for her. Very strong. But she was being freaky he told himself - as he had scores of times during the night. She might be a friend but she was avoiding looking him in the eye. And a friend wouldn’t talk about another friend the way she talked about him last night, would they?

  She was just trying to make him feel bad he decided now, over something she thought he’d done when he hadn’t done anything.

  The whole thing was fucking pathetic.

  He might order an early breakfast, but decided he wasn’t particularly hungry. If it had been the weekend, he’d have a full English - bacon, eggs, sausage and then have a golf or tennis game.

  But he hadn’t organised a game for today. He didn’t feel like a game because he couldn’t be bothered. Now he frowned. There was something wrong with that picture.

  Maybe he’d look at the detailed plans for the re-fitting of the Ferranti Spa at Lake Como. Maybe even sign off on a couple of plans and put a smile on Nico’s face. Get a couple of gold stars from Bronte for putting a smile on Nico’s face.

  No point in standing around here like a fart in a trance.

  He’d pop over to see his sister and mooch breakfast from her and see the kids. Maybe delicately grill her for information on Rosie.

  No way was he going to tell Bronte how he felt about Rosie because his sister told Rosie every fucking thing. If there was anyone who had the skinny on Rosie it was Bronte Ferranti.

  He turned with his coffee and wandered into the bathroom.

  Once he’d dressed in jeans, loafers and a polo shirt, he stood still. Maybe he was lonely? He’d get a cat, two cats. No, a dog. A real dog. A manly dog like a German Shepherd or a retriever. Might even go to the dog home and find a loyal pal.

  Yep, he’d drop-in, run the idea past Bronte and Nico at breakfast and after that he’d put in a few hours of gratifying work on the Lake Como Spa. Sorted.

  He climbed into his Range Rover, perfect vehicle for a dog.

  Pulling out of the car park, he wound down the main drive of Ludlow Hall and cruised along the road until he reached The Dower House.

  He drove past the house and round to the back.

  Strolling towards the door, the sound of heavy rock made him smile. Typical. Bronte loved to boogie as she prepared breakfast.

  He found her messing about at a huge range, a stainless steel monstrosity, her hips wiggling in time to the music.

  The fact his sister was still in what she supposed passed as pyjamas - tiny pantie shorts and a vest - didn’t bother him.

  The twins were tucked up in high chairs, still in their pyjamas, looking cute as they ate their breakfast.

  He crept behind Bronte and tickled her making her yelp in a way that had the kids howling with laughter.

  She whirled around with a spatula in her hand and smacked him over the head with it, twice.

  Sophia giggled so much she choked while Luca shouted and stretched out his arms.

  Bronte grabbed her daughter, patted her back, while Alexander picked up Luca.

  ‘What’s got into you?’ she yelled.

  Turning down her iPod deck, Alexander gave her a big grin while Luca’s fist pulled on his hair.

  ‘I thought I’d have breakfast here,’ he responded and carefully unfurled his nephew’s sticky grip.

  Her smooth brow creased as she studied him.

  ‘What’s up?’

  ‘Why should something be up?’

  He placed Luca in his highchair, handed him his plastic spoon.

  When the baby dug the spoon into what looked like mashed banana and offered it to him, Alexander pretended to eat it.

  ‘Yum, yum.’

  Bronte wasn’t buying it.

  She didn’t mind her brother dropping in unannounced, in fact she welcomed it. But as she poured him a coffee and topped up her own she took a good long look at him. It appeared he hadn’t slept and that wasn’t like him. Alexander could sleep on a bed of nails.

  Nico strolled in looking all hot and sexy and immaculate in his bespoke suit.

  It put a hitch in his stride to find Alexander in his kitchen at seven-thirty in the morning, but he simply flashed her a look before expertly avoiding sticky fingers as he bent to nuzzle his children.

  ‘It is always a joy to see you, Alexander,’ he began and broke off to kiss his wife on the mouth, run a hand over her bottom. He stood behind her, wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her close. ‘Everything alright?’

  Her brother sat at the table, stretched out long legs and hid a yawn.

  ‘I’m fine. What do you think of a dog?’

  Nico sat opposite.

  Bronte placed a coffee in front of him and he thanked her by taking her hand, nibbling her fingers and all the while his eyes never left Alexander.

  ‘Grazie, cara.’

  She set down a basket of warmed rolls, croissants and brioche and they dug in.

  ‘A dog?’ she asked watching her brother like a hawk.

  He’d always hankered for a dog, Bronte remembered now. However, living at The Hall and the travelling he did wasn’t conducive to keeping a pet. And she wondered now what was behind the sudden urge to have a companion.

  Sophia cried, ‘Woof.’

  ‘Who is a clever girl?’ Nico stroked a gentle finger down his daughter’s cheek, grinning when he spotted Luca snoring into his breakfast.

  ‘Yeah, a manly dog, like a German Shepherd. What do you think?’

  Alexander split a croissant, buttered it, missing the raised brow Nico gave his wife and her shrugged response.

  Bronte cleared her throat.

  ‘A manly dog?’

  Her brother caught her eye and frowned.

  ‘Yeah, no way would I get something called a Cockapoo or a ball of fluff. A man should have a dog with testosterone that looks like a dog.’

  Now she placed her elbows on the table, resting her chin on clasped hands.

  ‘A dog with testosterone?’

  ‘Yeah. Rosie was in the restaurant last night with Josh Erichsen. And the way they were behaving they’ll have the tongues wagging for a week.’

  Bronte didn’t blink at the segue into Rosie but this was the second time in as many days her brother had arrived and mentioned her best friend. Had they fought? She wouldn’t be surprised since the pair of them bickered constantly.

  ‘They were on a date. How did it go?’ she wanted to know.

  The look of utter disgust on his
face had her eye him carefully.

  ‘He was all over her like a rash. And she was stroking his hand and purring. You need to have a word with her, you know how gossip spreads in a small town.’

  She did indeed. But was that a hurt sort of jealousy she saw in his eyes? Seriously?

  She took a sip of her coffee and told herself to be careful, very careful.

  ‘Josh is lovely. She could do worse.’

  ‘Yeah, well you should have seen what she was wearing,’ he snarled in a way that had Nico’s cup pause on its way to his lips.

  Bronte shot her husband a warning look.

  ‘Hot?’ she asked.

  Alexander flashed her a dark look that made her bite down hard on the inside of her cheek.

  ‘Smoking,’ he growled and then frowned as she topped his coffee.

  ‘What’s a toxic bachelor?’

  She blinked at the change of subject.

  ‘It’s a man who’s very set in his ways and has probably left it too late to find a partner because he finds it impossible to compromise and let another into his life. Why do you want to know?’

  The hint of temper in his eyes nearly made her laugh out loud.

  ‘Just something I heard someone say and wondered what it meant, that’s all.’

  Her brother she realised was sulking.

  Nico’s laughing eyes caught hers.

  Bronte knew better than to show too much interest or Alexander wouldn’t be seen for dust. With him the key to receiving more information was to act as if she could care less.

  She rose.

  ‘Well, some of us don’t have a day off. I need to jump in the shower, dress the kids.’

  ‘Need help?’ Alexander asked.

  ‘Sure. You take Sophia and I’ll get sleeping beauty.’

  Later, Bronte and Alexander sat in the garden under the sunshade.

  Luca was sound asleep and Sophia was dozing on a blanket on the grass next to her brother.

  The rumble of lazy bees bumbling from one plant to the other was the only sound in the calm of the morning. A gentle breeze made a couple of plastic windmills stuck into plant pots spin crazily. Enjoying the peace and quiet, Alexander relaxed properly for the first time in days.

  ‘It’s been a while since I hung with just you,’ he said.

  Bronte looked up from her laptop, eyed him over her glasses.

  ‘You work too hard. When are you moving into the barn?’

  ‘I’ll make a start next week. The kitchen’s nearly finished. Just waiting for the granite countertops.’

  ‘Is moving into your own home, finally settling down, the reason for thinking of a dog?’

  Perhaps it was?

  He shrugged.

  ‘Might be.’

  ‘Have you had a fight with Rosie?’

  Now he frowned and spoke the truth,

  ‘I’ve no idea what the hell I’ve done. But she’s angry with me. Any ideas?’

  Her eyes met his and he read anxiety.

  ‘Someone’s hurt her,’ his sister said.

  Now he sat up.

  ‘A guy?’

  She nodded.

  ‘She’s refusing to tell me who.’

  Alexander pointed a finger.

  ‘See? That’s just not right. She tells you everything.’

  ‘She used to.’

  He saw the hurt.

  ‘Things were bound to change between you after you married Nico and had the kids.’

  ‘I know that. But this is different. She’s trying to put on a brave face. His name is Simon and he’s an airline pilot.’

  She’d had a secret affair? Rosie?

  The ache of need in his belly for her was joined by something dark, something that felt like jealous possession and he didn’t like it. Not one little bit. The little witch.

  ‘She did make a crack about a night of hot monkey sex, but I thought she was joking.’ And he hadn’t followed his intuition that something was wrong with her. His brain flicked through a mental file of airline pilots. ‘Can’t say the name’s ringing any bells. Which airline?’

  ‘No idea.’

  ‘Rank?’ he snapped.

  She shrugged.

  ‘She says he’s a captain, kept odd hours.’

  ‘Hmm. Maybe long haul.’

  Bronte sent him what passed for a smile.

  ‘Rosie can’t keep a secret from me. It’ll come out eventually.’

  He nodded, that was very true.

  But something was off about the whole thing and Bronte was worried, stressing about it.

  Well, he’d just make a few casual enquiries, find out who the bastard was. His head of security’s brother worked at Heathrow.

  But his sister was giving him big eyes in a way that warned him to be careful. If she got wind he had feelings for Rosie, the whole thing might blow up in his face.

  He told himself to just calm the hell down.

  ‘How’s Nico coping?’ he asked in an attempt to deflect attention away from Ms Rosemary Gordon.

  His sister took a big breath.

  ‘He’s okay. We’re flying out late tomorrow night. I’ve managed to persuade him to take a week’s break in Lake Como. Gabriel, Julia and the kids are coming too. He needs to spend time with his brother.’

  Alexander knew Nico’s relationship with Gabriel had gone through its rough spots. But seeing how Bronte and his best friend managed their marriage, their relationship, their lives made him realise again how much he was missing by not having a special person in his life.

  Actually he did have a special person in his life.

  He frowned now as his temper spiked and he tried to think everything through in a logical manner.

  Apparently she was suffering from a broken romance? And why hadn’t he heard about it? The local gossip’s spooky radar would have nailed the vehicle, type and registration number of any guy sleeping with Rosie within hours.

  And she hadn’t looked heart broken last night, had she?

  Anything but.

  So it had been a secret romance?

  But then that didn’t sit right with him either.

  Why would Rosie keep it a secret?

  Chapter Eleven

  ‘Who’s idea was this?’

  High in the hills above Ludlow Hall, Rosie caught her breath sucking air painfully in and out of her lungs. With deep loathing in her heart she eyed the steep incline directly ahead of her, which resembled the north face of the Eiger.

  Silver ponytail bouncing on top of her head, Bronte, wearing shorts and cross trainers, bounded up the incline like a freaking gazelle.

  Turning at the top she rested her hands on long thighs and grinned, hardly even out of breath. Cow.

  ‘Yours. And you told me not to listen to your whinging and moaning. If I was your friend, you said, I’d be behind you one hundred percent to become a lean, mean, fighting machine.’

  Rosie knew it was pathetic, but she pouted.

  Sweat trickled between her breasts, down back of her T-shirt into the dip between her buttocks.

  Why oh why had she worn a thong to go power hiking?

  ‘I can’t,’ she whined. ‘There isn’t a part of me that doesn’t ache.’

  Emerald eyes sparkling Bronte jogged on the spot, poetry in frigging motion.

  ‘You need pull on your big girl panties. Take a deep breath and run up on your toes. Come on, Gordon! Chop chop, get with the programme!’

  After a couple of unladylike expletives, Rosie dug in and ran up the hill.

  At the top she bent double, air wheezed through her teeth and she sucked it into screaming lungs.

  Her calf muscles sent subliminal messages of exquisite pain into her brain.

  ‘I can’t go on. I can’t do it.’

  Still jogging on the spot and looking as fresh as a freaking daisy, Bronte stared into her sweaty face.

  At that moment Rosie truly hated her.

  ‘Where does it hurt?’

  ‘I’m wearing a thong. It
’s killing me.’

  Bronte’s brows flew into her hairline.

  ‘Ouch! Take it off,’ she told her, looked around. ‘There’s no one here. I’ll keep watch. Go behind those bushes.’

  Rosie pulled off her rucksack, handed it to her friend and trudged up the embankment.

  The shrub hid her from the waist down.

  She stripped.

  The way she was feeling, she’d need to be evacuated out by helicopter. All this pain for a pert bum and toned legs. And for what? She pulled on her shorts and heaved a lovely sigh of relief.

  Bronte was now jumping on the spot.

  The woman was a machine.

  ‘Better?’ she asked. ‘No blisters?’

  As she stumbled down, Rosie sent her a filthy look that made her friend grin.

  ‘I’m not going to check my bum for blisters in broad daylight.’

  She shoved the satin and ribboned thong into the back pocket of her shorts, took her rucksack from Bronte.

  ‘Bend over. I’ll check it for you.’

  ‘Har, har.’

  ‘What are friends for?’

  Rosie pulled on her rucksack which held water, a protein drink and power bar. She’d have given anything for a Cadbury’s crème egg or three.

  ‘We’re on the home stretch now. It’s downhill all the way,’ Bronte informed her helpfully.

  ‘Tell me it’s all going to be worth it. Tell me you can see a difference.’

  ‘That bottom is taut and toned. I’ve no idea why you think there’s something wrong with it?’

  ‘I’m thirty in one year and one month. And according to my nutty mother my biological clock is ticking.’

  ‘You don’t look it. And I don’t look it either. We’ve got good genes,’ Bronte bragged shamelessly and handed her a stick of sugar-free gum.

  Chewing thoughtfully, Rosie had to agree, neither of them looked their age and wasn’t that part of the problem? Much to her friend’s amusement, when shopping in town, twice Rosie had been hit on by sixth formers from the local High School. Life didn’t get more embarrassing than that. And Alexander had laughed so hard she’d wanted to punch him.

  Since Bronte didn’t know any other speed, they moved at a fast clip.

  Well, at least the worst was over and the view from up here was worth the pain. A sea of green rolling hills lay before her with the river meandering through it like molten silver alongside Ludlow Hall. It looked fabulous. At six-thirty on a balmy summer’s evening, the heat was beginning to ease. A lovely soft breeze cooled boiling cheeks as she tightened the scrunchy on top of her head.