Sugar and Sin Bundle

by Stacey Joy Netzel

  He took a sip of wine and those eyes never left her face for a second.

  Why? Why had she lied about a fictional man named Simon?

  ‘Rosie!’

  Alexander’s voice, sharp and concerned made her jump.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Are you okay?’

  And wasn’t he the cause of all her problems? Bastard.

  ‘You startled me yelling like that,’ she snapped.

  Now he frowned.

  ‘You were miles away. I called your name twice.’

  ‘What’s the matter now?’ Rosie said, determined to take charge of the conversation.

  Alexander simply stared at her and was that sympathy in those green eyes?

  Was that pity?

  ‘Look,’ he said gently. ‘This Simon guy is not worth it. I’ve been doing some digging and I think I know who he is. It’s Simon Lowther isn’t it? He’s a captain for one of the big luxury airlines.’

  Her heart stumbled.

  The buzzing in her ears was like a hive of bees.

  What?

  Rosie blinked. ‘What?’

  She couldn’t think.

  All she could was stare at him in horror.

  Like a train without brakes Alexander just kept on rolling.

  Now he nodded as his lips went tight and that jaw clenched.

  ‘I knew it. Apparently he’s out of the country, but when he gets back he and I will have a little chat.’

  This could not be happening.

  Simon didn’t exist.

  He wasn’t real!

  ‘No!’

  She recognised that stubborn look in those dark green eyes. That look meant business. That look meant Simon who was not real might end up walking with a limp.

  Omigod.

  The only way to deal with this potential disaster was to head Alexander off at the pass.

  ‘How dare you interfere in my life? Have you listened to a single word I’ve said?’

  But Alexander simply put up his hands.

  ‘I knew you’d be pissed. But he’s hurt you and I’m not fucking standing for it.’

  Panic caught her breath.

  ‘You’re not standing for it?’ she whispered.

  ‘I know it’s him. Tall, blonde, tanned, works out. Apparently the man loves himself and he’s got a body like Adonis. What the hell were you thinking?’ he demanded.

  ‘I’ve... I’ve... no idea,’ she said faintly.

  ‘What I want to know is why the big secret?’

  The room spun as Rosie pressed the palm of her hand to her forehead.

  She felt hot.

  Maybe she had a temperature?

  Maybe she was having a psychotic break?

  ‘Secret?’ she repeated in a dazed voice.

  ‘Yeah, why the sneaking around in the middle of the night?’

  Those eyes lasered into hers as if he had x-ray vision.

  And the craziness of the situation made hysteria tickle her throat.

  Rosie slapped a hand to her mouth, swallowing the emotions that threatened to overwhelm her.

  ‘Tell the truth,’ her conscience demanded.

  ‘Are you kidding?’ the devil responded.

  The devil was right.

  Alexander would never let her forget it.

  Worse, he’d want to know why she’d lied and she rather burn in the fiery pit of hell itself than admit she was in love with him.

  Now Alexander leaned forward.

  ‘Look at the state of you. You’ve lost weight. The dark circles under your eyes are proof positive you’re not sleeping. And all because of a scumbag.’

  Think, dammit, think.

  But her brain had packed up its bags and gone on a long trip to... Who knew? Who cared?

  So Rosie did the next best thing.

  She fled.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Locked in her guest loo, Rosie sat on the toilet seat.

  What was she going to do?

  She couldn’t believe it.

  This could not be happening.

  How was it possible that an airline captain called Simon, who was blonde, tanned and built like Adonis actually existed?

  ‘See what happens when a person sets out to deceive?’ her conscience jeered.

  ‘Shut up,’ she muttered.

  She needed to think. Fast.

  Rosie ran hands that weren’t quite steady through the dark curls of her hair.

  She stood, ran the tap, washed her hands and avoided looking at herself in the mirror.

  This was exactly the trouble with Alexander.

  This was so typical of him.

  He just had to stick his nose in her business.

  In fact, he’d spent a lifetime practising sticking his nose in her business.

  And she just knew he’d confront Simon.

  He’d accuse him of hurting Rosie Gordon.

  And when the guy said he’d no idea who Rosie Gordon was, Alexander would thump him.

  Or worse, he’d take Nico along.

  Omigod.

  Nico knew things like how to hurt someone without leaving a mark.

  Again hysteria squeezed her lungs.

  The first thing to do was to keep calm, no need to panic.

  She’d tell Alexander, very firmly, to stay away from Simon.

  But then her heart stopped dead for one beat, two.

  What if Simon had a partner, a girlfriend or, a wife? Or worse, children?

  Omigod.

  ‘Oh please, don’t have a wife or kids,’ she moaned softly.

  But what if he did?

  ‘Then I’ll confess. I will. I promise,’ she whispered.

  With a bump Rosie sat on the toilet lid and the awful truth hit her too hard.

  She was a thief, a stalker and a liar.

  But no way in hell would she let an innocent man be accused of having an affair with her when he’d done nothing wrong.

  ‘I’ll absolutely tell the truth, to everything.’

  Taking a very deep breath, Rosie rejoined Alexander.

  She sank to the couch, picked up her wine and took a deep gulp.

  Her eyes met his.

  Her voice, she told herself, was firm and to the point.

  ‘I want you to stay away, far away, from Simon. Do I make myself clear?’

  No answer.

  And that was not a good sign.

  Not good at all.

  Now Alexander frowned.

  ‘This thing you’ve got going with Josh. Is it serious?’

  The tone of his voice was too harsh.

  Rosie bit down hard on her bottom lip.

  She’d forgotten all about Josh.

  She plucked the corner of the cushion.

  Playing games was never smart, they only made a bad situation worse.

  Ain’t that the truth.

  ‘The thing with Josh is just friends.’

  The heavy sigh he heaved had her frown.

  ‘You looked pretty close this afternoon,’ he pressed her.

  Hadn’t she told him Josh was simply messing around?

  And what was it with men and their secret signals?

  ‘What’s a death stare?’ she wanted to know.

  ‘It’s a guy thing.’

  Rosie didn’t bother to hide the edge in her voice.

  ‘I’m not a bone to be fought over.’

  ‘I know you’re not,’ he said, his voice so low and soft it brought a lump the size of a fist to her throat.

  What was it Josh had said, that she needed to be brave?

  She tugged at the corner of the cushion and took a deep breath as her pulse roared in her ears.

  ‘What did you mean that you have... feelings for me?’ She couldn’t say the word romantic, it stuck in her throat.

  He placed his wine on the table, stood and moved to sit beside her.

  Alexander pulled the cushion from her arms, tossed it and turned her to face him.

  ‘Look at me,’ he ordered.

&
nbsp; When she didn’t comply gentle fingers gripped her chin and forced her to meet his eyes.

  His expression was hard, determined, controlled.

  Her gaze dropped to his lip and she winced.

  The scent of his light cologne, shampoo and clean healthy male spun around her heightened senses as her heart pounded in her chest.

  He raised his hand to tuck a dark curl behind her ear.

  ‘What are you doing?’

  ‘Scaring you to death, apparently.’

  ‘This is so not a good idea,’ she whispered.

  And on sooooo many levels.

  Those eyes never left hers as his hand cupped her jaw.

  ‘Feels like a great idea to me. Do you want to fuck Josh?’

  Stunned at the frank language, she blinked.

  ‘No.’

  ‘Do you want me to fuck you?’

  Oh, yes please, a little voice said.

  The clutch of arousal low in her womb made her teeth grip her bottom lip.

  But she wouldn’t give into it.

  For the second time in one day, Rosie lied straight to his face.

  ‘No.’

  His smile was a show of white teeth and it wasn’t nice.

  ‘Liar. We need to talk.’

  Something like panic raced up her spine.

  ‘We’ve nothing to talk about.’

  His finger’s squeezed.

  ‘We’ll talk tomorrow after you’ve had time to think about it.’

  The way he spoke to her, as if she had no choice in the matter, as if he was the one who made all the decisions made her voice too high.

  ‘No. We won’t, Alexander. Nothing is going to happen between us.’

  He simply grinned and her hand itched to smack him.

  His eyes, dark and possessive, dropped to her breasts in a way that caught the breath in her throat.

  ‘Tell that to your hard little nipples. Tell that to the frantic pulse in your neck. And I put money on it your panties are wet.’

  His fingertip skimmed the spot under her ear and she felt the touch on her nipples and between her legs.

  He stood.

  ‘Alexander.’

  ‘You need a good night’s sleep. I’ll see you tomorrow.’

  He kept walking and Rosie thought her jaw would crack by the way she was grinding her teeth.

  ‘Alexander,’ she growled in utter frustration.

  ‘By the way.’

  Hand on the door handle he turned to look at her and his eyes were so cold she shivered. ‘I don’t do vanilla sex. And if I see you cock teasing Josh again I’ll paddle your bare arse so hard you won’t sit down for a week.’

  He left.

  Rosie simply stared at the door unable to believe her ears.

  Her heart was racing.

  Her nipples were like bullets and her panties indeed were damp.

  Omigod.

  Who’d have thought suave, sophisticated Alexander Ludlow was a human missile of mass destruction? A dominant alpha male?

  How did that old phrase go, ‘Be careful what you wish for because it just might come true?’

  That’ll teach her.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Rosie hadn’t slept a wink.

  How could he behave like a caveman and just leave her standing in a puddle of lust?

  And for once, Roger rabbit hadn’t been up to the task and that fact was driving her mad.

  After being on her feet since five in the morning, all she wanted to do was to have a blissful soak in a hot bath with a glass of frosty white wine.

  But no, here she was over twelve hours later stressing over Julie’s cake thanks to a chance remark by Bronte that still had her spitting nails.

  Why couldn’t the twit have told her his PA was allergic to nuts?

  She’d had to work like a crazy person to have the cake ready by this afternoon.

  Then she’d overfilled muffin tins, causing Armageddon in two industrial ovens.

  Of course the girls she employed offered to clean them, but the rule at Sweet Sensations was that the person who made the mess cleaned the mess. It didn’t make any difference if she was the boss, Rosie led by example.

  Bitter feelings of being illused and abused burned in her chest.

  Alexander knew she was busy and if the staff hadn’t stepped in today to help with a cake tasting, she’d never have managed to complete it on time.

  Why couldn’t she learn to say no to the man?

  With care, she added yet another blushed pink rosebud to the cake.

  Finished.

  She carefully placed the fabulous cake into a glossy white cardboard box.

  Snapping on rubber gloves, Rosie blinked back hot tears.

  Exhausted self-pity mingled with a toxic sexual frustration that was killing her.

  She bent, checked how the oven paste was working on the burnt globby disaster zone.

  With her head stuck in the oven, she put her back into scrubbing and was so busy cursing like a sailor she didn’t hear the door open or the, ‘Hello’.

  So when a large male hand patted her bottom, her shriek almost burst her eardrums as her head hit the top of the oven with a sickening crack.

  Stars exploded behind her eyes as agony pealed over her skull and down her spine.

  ‘God, Rosie, sorry darling. I didn’t mean to startle you.’

  The masculine voice, full of concern, seemed to fade into the distance.

  A jack hammer above her temple robbed Rosie of the power of speech and she could actually feel the bone on her hairline swelling, stretching her skin.

  Strong hands lifted her and pushed her onto a chair.

  Dazed, eyes stinging, the room tilted sickly.

  Pressing a shaky hand to her stomach Rosie took a breath.

  And looked into a pair of very anxious blue eyes.

  ‘Ouch,’ she said in a weak voice.

  Josh rose and moved to get her a glass of water.

  Handing her the water he asked,

  ‘Where do you keep painkillers?’

  The glass trembled in her hand as Rosie blinked up at him while her brain tried to compute his question.

  She took a careful sip.

  He gazed into her eyes, shook his head and started poking around cupboards, found what he was looking for and handed her two pills.

  Telling herself to just keep breathing through the percussion blows pounding her skull, Rosie watched him rifle through a freezer and return with a bag of frozen peas.

  Kneeling in front of her, Josh carefully untied her bandana and winced as he gently pressed the peas to her head.

  Her whine had him bite his lip.

  ‘Jeez, I’m so sorry.’

  She blinked, held onto the pack pressed to her skull.

  ‘I can see three of you.’

  The door opened.

  The sound of hurried footsteps came closer.

  ‘What’s the matter? What happened?’

  The tone in Alexander’s deep voice made her moan and close her eyes.

  From a great distance Rosie heard Josh relating the story.

  Alexander tipped up her chin, she knew it was him by what his touch did to her.

  Chemistry was a bitch.

  With a gentle hand that made her eyes sting even more, Alexander lifted the pack of frozen peas and swore under his breath.

  ‘Christ’s sake, it’s the size of an egg.’

  ‘We need to phone an ambulance,’ Josh said, sounding terribly upset.

  ‘You’ve done enough,’ snapped Alexander.

  ‘Back off.’ Her voice was thready and weak.

  When she opened her eyes a cold sweat of nausea washed over her and the room pitched.

  A roaring sound in her ears drowned out their voices and her world went black.

  Rosie awoke to the feeling of someone trying to bore a hole in her skull with a pneumatic drill.

  She was lying on the couch in her sitting room with Alexander’s pale face hovering abo
ve.

  Somewhere along the line he’d lost his jacket and tie.

  He placed a blissfully cold cloth to her forehead under the bag of frozen peas.

  ‘Where’s Josh?’

  ‘Who cares? What a bloody idiot.’

  ‘Accident,’ she muttered through the pain.

  ‘Yeah, well Bronte and the paramedics are on their way.’

  She couldn’t stop the whine in her voice,

  ‘It’s only a bump on the head.’

  Alexander’s emerald eyes went soft now as he stared into hers.

  He knew exactly how much she hated hospitals.

  ‘You’ve a bump the size of a duck egg and you passed out. Stay quiet and let them look you over.’

  A commotion at her front door had her groan.

  And she made the mistake of moving her head.

  ‘Hi, Rosie,’ a chirpy voice she knew well spoke above her. ‘What have you done to yourself this time?’

  Through her lashes Susan Bradshaw swam into view.

  She’d gone to school with Susan.

  Dressed in a dark green romper suit of a paramedic, Susan knelt and opened a bag.

  Behind her a large stocky man with dark hair peppered with grey, another paramedic, folded his arms and watched her carefully.

  ‘Nice bump,’ he said. The tone was jovial but his eyes were sharp. ‘Better out than in.’

  Nausea hit her like a brick.

  ‘I’m going to be sick.’

  Susan rolled her to her side to be wretchedly ill into a cardboard pot.

  Then Susan cast a sharp eye on Alexander.

  ‘Who gave her painkillers?’

  Josh raised his hand.

  ‘I did.’

  ‘Don’t do it again,’ Susan told him in a firm voice before flashing a pen light into Rosie’s eyes. ‘Leave medicating a patient to the experts.’

  She turned and nodded to her companion who nodded back.

  ‘Righto, kiddo, we’re taking you back with us. You always did enjoy riding in an ambulance. I’ll even run the siren for you.’

  Weak tears ran down Rosie’s cheeks.

  She could care less.

  She’d never felt so poorly in her life.

  Alexander held her hand and squeezed.

  ‘Hang on in there. I’m right here. I won’t leave you.’

  The arrival of Bronte and Nico had her sob even harder.

  They were supposed to be flying to Rome tonight and the thought she might cause them a delay had her hang on even harder to Alexander’s fingers.