Sugar and Sin Bundle

by Stacey Joy Netzel

  ‘What happened?’ Bronte demanded to know. Then her eyes narrowed on her brother’s face. ‘And what happened to you?’

  Alexander flicked Nico a warning look.

  ‘An accident. It’s nothing.’

  ‘Ah, the gang’s all here,’ Susan said, still chirpy. ‘Hi, Bronte, we’re taking her in for a couple of tests. She’s passed out and been sick. They’ll do a CT scan and check her out thoroughly. I suspect a concussion, but it’s better to be safe than sorry.’

  Chapter Eighteen

  ‘I want to go home,’ Rosie said, again, four hours later.

  Alexander sprawled in the chair next to her bed, shot her a look that warned she was pushing her luck.

  And that glint in his eye was back.

  However, he’d been fantastic, jumping in the ambulance with her while Bronte drove his car with Nico following on behind.

  Poor Josh had eventually gone home feeling terrible after promising he’d make it up to her.

  And Bronte, Nico and the kids were on their way to Italy for the funeral of Nico’s father.

  For a knock on the head, the whole thing had been blown out of all proportion. It could have happened to anyone. So why Alexander insisted on making a meal out of it, she didn’t know.

  ‘You’ll go home when you’re well enough to go home and you’ll do as you’re told,’ Alexander commanded in a tone that on a good day would have her tearing a strip off him. ‘Bronte has it all organised and under control. Janine’s running the business while Lucy and Amy are picking up the slack. No work for at least a week.’

  ‘This is all your fault,’ she snapped.

  He gave her wide eyes.

  ‘I’m not the one who patted your bottom. And I’m going to have a little word with Josh about that.’

  ‘Leave him alone. You’re the one who didn’t tell me Julie was allergic to nuts. I had to make another cake. It threw out my entire day. I got behind. I got stressed and tired. I overfilled the muffin tins which caused chaos in my new ovens which was why I was cleaning them. Ergo, it was your fault.’

  ‘You had to make the cake twice?’ he asked in a voice of utter disbelief.

  ‘Nice to see that expensive education wasn’t wasted and you can count.’

  ‘I’m sorry, angel face. I didn’t think.’

  ‘You never do. I should have checked and asked the question.’

  He sent her a big smile.

  ‘So it’s your fault?’

  ‘Shut up.’

  ‘I’ll pay you for two cakes instead of one.’

  He’d what?

  Now temper roared through her system in a way that made stars jump in front of her eyes.

  ‘You’re a pathetic excuse for a man.’

  He simply grinned at her.

  ‘Do you know what those big dark eyes do to me when you’re angry?’

  ‘I know what I’d like them to do to you.’

  The grin got bigger.

  ‘They get me right here,’ he said and punched his chest.

  By how big those fabulous eyes went, Alexander realised Rosie had no idea what she did to him and had absolutely no idea she had him by the throat.

  And he wondered now if these feelings had always been there hidden under the permanent itch of irritation with her sassy mouth, the flashing eyes, the always too quick temper.

  It was layers of emotions he thought, and underpinning every one was the need to protect and take care of Rosie.

  And now she had him by the balls, the little witch.

  He couldn’t resist her.

  Every time he saw her now his belly did a little dance.

  The first time his belly had done that little dance was at Rosie’s sixteenth birthday party at Ludlow Hall’s swimming pool and he’d popped in to give her a present - a gold chain with a little gold handbag and tiny gold shoe with high heels since Rosie and Bronte had a thing for bags and shoes.

  She’d been wearing an excuse for a bikini, a white one, and he’d needed oxygen. With the long limbs, the curvy figure, the tan and her hair, she could have been Miss July on his locker room calendar.

  At twenty-three those feelings had scared the hell out of him and he’d thrown himself into a hot affair and his career to get her out of his system.

  His feelings for her since were something he couldn’t articulate even to himself except as friendship, something he’d assumed she’d accepted and returned.

  But it was odd, he thought now, that those feelings of needing oxygen had lasted more than twelve years even though they’d been disregarded, repressed, swept aside.

  Rosie was about to give him a smart response when the doctor entered, a middle-aged Asian man with dark twinkling eyes.

  ‘Good news. Nothing sinister is going on in that hard head of yours. You have a mild concussion which is never fun.’ He perched on the edge of her bed. ‘You have two choices. You can go home as long as you have someone with you over the next forty-eight hours, maybe longer depending on how you feel. Or you can stay in here where we’ll keep an eye on you.’

  ‘I’ll stay with her,’ Alexander said. When Rosie opened her mouth, he raised a brow. ‘Unless you have a better idea? Bronte and Nico are on their way to Italy. Your parents are in Cyprus.’

  She frowned then wished she hadn’t because it hurt.

  ‘But where will you sleep? My second bedroom is a clothes closet and a dressing room.’

  ‘You’ll stay at The Hall. I’ve a guest room in my apartment with en-suite facilities. We’ll have food on tap with plenty of people to keep an eye on you. It’s all organised.’

  ‘Sounds like a plan,’ the doctor agreed. ‘You need to keep an eye on her at regular intervals for the next thirty-six hours. If she’s sick or one pupil dilates or she becomes confused, slurs her speech or you can’t wake her, phone us immediately.’

  The doctor turned to her, checked her pulse.

  ‘You can have paracetomol for pain, nothing else. No alcohol of course. Plenty of rest. You might feel a bit spaced out for a while. Do not return to work unless you’re feeling well. Cut back that busy schedule of yours for the next few weeks. No point in borrowing trouble. You need to start looking after yourself, young lady.’

  Alexander simply stared at her with those vivid eyes.

  And the jumpy nerves in her belly wound even tighter as she recognised that cat-that’s-got-the-cream look.

  She’d be alone with him in his penthouse apartment in Ludlow Hall.

  Shit.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Four days later, Rosie knew that if she didn’t get out of bed she’d go quietly insane

  For the first thirty-six hours he’d organised a single bed for himself in her room and he’d got up at regular intervals to wake and talk to her. His touch had been nothing more than friendly and concerned. Rosie wondered how a person could be both relieved and terribly disappointed at the same time?

  Maybe a head injury left permanent brain damage?

  People had been very kind.

  The whole apartment resembled a funeral parlour with the amount of floral arrangements that had been delivered.

  The lovely Julie had poked her head in the door, delivering even more flowers and thanked her for the cake.

  However, now Alexander was taking things too far.

  He wouldn’t even let her have proper clothes.

  She wanted to go home.

  She wanted her own bed with her own pillow and her own things.

  With a huff of her breath, Rosie teetered on shaky legs to the en-suite bathroom.

  There was certainly an upside to living in a five star hotel.

  The bath towels were amazing, all thick and fluffy.

  In the mirror she checked the livid bruise running across her forehead and over her left eye.

  And decided to risk washing her hair.

  The oval bath was something else, all glossy white with a convoluted tap arrangement and was big enough for a party of four.

&nb
sp; Tossing a handful of salts from a jar, she turned on the water and nearly jumped out of her skin when Janine poked her blonde head around the door.

  Pressing a shaky hand to her speeding heart, Rosie sank to the edge of the bath.

  ‘You scared the life out of me.’

  ‘Whatchya doing?’

  ‘Hair wash, bath.’

  Janine tsk tsked.

  ‘Not on your own you’re not. What if you pass out?’

  Glowering at her, Rosie hunched her shoulders.

  ‘I feel fine.’

  Janine gave her a critical look.

  ‘You don’t look fine.’ Then obviously taking pity on her, she grinned. ‘I’ve brought you three sets of baby doll pj’s as per your specific instructions. I’ll wash your hair for you, how’s that?’

  ‘Jeans? T-shirt?’ Rosie asked hopefully as she stripped down to her skin.

  ‘Nope. The warden has determined no clothes for the prisoner until your GP says you can go out for a short stroll.’ Janine held the shower spray in one hand and her voice softened as Rosie gingerly sank into jasmine scented water. ‘It’s not that we don’t trust you, honey, but you gave everybody quite a scare.’

  ‘All this fuss over a bump on the head. It’s pathetic.’

  Rosie’s breath came out in a hiss as warm water ran over a tender spot on her head.

  Janine winced.

  ‘Sorry, hang on to this.’ She handed her the spray.

  Careful, gentle fingers massaged oatmeal and honey shampoo into her scalp.

  Rosie tipped back her head and let out a long breath.

  ‘That feels fantastic. There’s nothing worse than needing your hair washed and being stuck in bed.’

  Janine rinsed, shampooed, rinsed and conditioned and rinsed again.

  ‘You have magic fingers,’ Rosie told her with a smile as her friend wound her wet hair in a towel. ‘I love the smell of this soap.’

  ‘It’s Aveda and supposed to be refreshing.’

  ‘Where’s Boo?’ Rosie still couldn’t get over anyone calling her baby such a crazy name but she was coming to like it. Little Boo was the most gorgeous baby she’d ever seen.

  ‘Julie grabbed her.’

  Ten minutes later, Janine held her elbow as Rosie climbed out the bath and dried herself.

  She certainly felt more human.

  Wearing ivory silk French knickers and a matching baby doll strappy top with a single button at the back, Rosie sat in front of the dressing table mirror as Janine gently finger dried her hair with a dryer.

  ‘I’ve always been jealous of these curls. They’re so shiny.’

  ‘I’ve been toying with cutting it. In this heat it’s high maintenance.’

  ‘Don’t you dare!’

  Rosie grinned at the expression of sheer outrage.

  ‘Not short, just thinned out a bit.’

  Running her fingers through Rosie’s hair, Janine’s eye met hers in the mirror.

  ‘You used to drive me crazy at school.’

  ‘You weren’t my favourite person either.’

  ‘I think it was the friendship with Bronte, there was only room for two in that relationship.’

  Now Rosie frowned.

  ‘That’s not true. We had plenty of friends at school. There was you, Lucy Cavendish, Coco Monroe and Louise.’

  Janine nodded.

  ‘Yeah, did you hear about Coco? She’s recovering well I heard.’

  Rosie shivered remembering what had happened to her old school friend.

  ‘That’s the trouble with being a media star, you attract all the crazies. They say the guy who stabbed her was a stalker. It’s all about power and control. I don’t know what the hell is wrong with some men these days,’ she said.

  Then blinked when Janine’s face went bone white.

  ‘Are you okay?’

  ‘I’m fine. Missed lunch, I need to eat something.’

  ‘You’re too thin.’

  ‘I’ve no idea why since I eat everything and anything. It might be breastfeeding Boo.’

  Rosie decided to change the subject since Janine was practically trembling.

  ‘How’s the house coming on?’

  And didn’t miss the flash of relief in her friend’s eyes. One day she was going to get to the bottom of what had happened to her.

  ‘Good, now the will is finalised and the monies have been paid into my account. I need to find a good contractor to take on the work. But there’s no rush. Alexander offered to loan me money to tide me over but I didn’t need it. I adore that man,’ Janine told her.

  Testing, Rosie eyed her carefully in the mirror.

  ‘He’s single and unattached.’

  Janine shook her head.

  ‘We had that thing years ago, but was like kissing a brother, you know what I mean?’

  Heady relief made the room spin.

  Rosie nodded.

  ‘I know exactly what you mean. But what about the multiple orgasms he gave you?’

  And watched with wide eyed interest as her friend’s face went bright pink.

  ‘He never touched me. I lied just to annoy you.’

  ‘You’ve always been good at annoying me.’

  Now Janine grinned. ‘I know.’

  The bedroom door opened.

  And the man Janine adored popped his head in.

  As usual he hadn’t knocked and that fact made Rosie give him a very unhappy face.

  Wearing soft jeans and a loose cotton shirt rolled up at the sleeves he’d obviously finished work for the day.

  All right for some.

  For good measure she sent him another narrow-eyed glare which made him look at her sharply.

  ‘What’s going on?’

  Janine sent him a calm look.

  ‘We’re drinking champagne and swinging from the chandelier. What does it look like?’

  She unplugged the hairdryer, gave Rosie a kiss on the cheek, picked up her bag to go.

  And turned to Alexander.

  ‘Try not to drive her completely insane. She’s looking and feeling a lot better.

  ‘I’ll pop in tomorrow,’ she told Rosie. ‘If there’s anything you need give me a call.’

  After Janine left, Alexander studied her for an unremitting moment.

  The atmosphere in the room changed, became fraught and uneasy.

  The last few days had been filled with anxiety and not a little anger.

  She was becoming jumpy every time he appeared wondering when he was going to make a move.

  She kept going over and over their conversations trying to read his thinking.

  But what did they mean?

  A quick fling?

  He was deliberately keeping her on tenterhooks and it wasn’t nice and it wasn’t fair.

  And he hadn’t mentioned their fight either.

  Was he playing with her?

  Had he changed his mind?

  Just as she wondered why that was, Alexander moved into her space.

  He lifted his hand to tip up her chin to inspect the bruise.

  His eyes met hers.

  ‘I can hear the wheels spinning. How’s the head?’

  ‘How’s the lip?’

  ‘Wanna kiss it better?’

  The challenge in his deep voice nudged her temper.

  ‘I might. Where do you want it?’

  Alexander lifted his hand and tapped his mouth.

  ‘Right here.’

  His eyes dropped to the outline of her breasts.

  ‘I can see your tits.’

  ‘So? I might point out that this is my bedroom and you came in without an invitation.’

  His tongue ran over his top teeth and those eyes went sharp as they took a leisurely stroll over her pj’s and returned to hers.

  ‘Very nice. You look like a sexy fairy.’

  He smiled and it was the smile of a predator.

  His face reminded her of a hunter, strong, fierce and powerful.

  Why had she called him a p
retty boy?

  What on earth had she been thinking?

  Alarm made her tone sharp.

  ‘Don’t you think I’m entitled to a couple of hours without you in my face?’

  Chapter Twenty

  Aaaand she was back!

  To hide his relief at the return of the snarky Rosie he adored, Alexander showed his teeth.

  He loved the way she smelled.

  Her skin looked so soft and clear. The evocative warm scent of fresh soap mingled with honey and his mouth watered.

  Those big eyes were wary now and for some reason it aroused him terribly. Goosebumps arose on her flesh. Those dusky nipples hardened under the delicate fabric of her top and her pupils darkened.

  Her breath caught in her throat even as her hand leapt to the spot where her pulse hammered.

  The gesture was such an amazingly feminine one, she could have no idea what it did to him.

  Reaching out he touched the edge of her top, it was silk and tissue thin and lust arrowed straight to his groin.

  ‘Why don’t I carry you to bed?’ he said in a low throaty voice.

  Heat raced into her face then drained away leaving her too pale.

  He needed to remember she still wasn’t at her best.

  He needed to remember to take it easy.

  But he could do nothing about his cock as it went even harder.

  How had things changed between them so fast?

  Was it the concussion that made her head spin?

  It must be because Alexander Ludlow was looking at her as if he was about to devour her in one big bite.

  She couldn’t tear her eyes from his.

  ‘I have perfectly good legs.’

  And she stood to prove the point.

  ‘You have stunning legs. I’ve always thought so.’

  He did?

  ‘You have?’

  A different light entered his eyes, one of dangerous amusement.

  He caught her fingers.

  ‘Why are you stepping away?’

  ‘I’m not.’

  How could she when he pulled her towards him.

  ‘Yes, you are.’

  Still holding her hand, he gently cupped the back of her neck, inching her closer.

  Her nerves were skipping in her belly when she remembered to slap her hand to his chest.