But no one was more dismayed than Rosie.
Sundays were sacrosanct. It was the only day of the week she truly relaxed and chilled out. Sundays on a boiling summer day were even more precious. She stared in consternation at Eve’s lanky frame, the torn jeans and hip T-shirt.
‘What are we going to do?’ Rosie asked the room at large. ‘The cake and samples are all ready to rock. We have everything ready for the shoot. Can’t they send a replacement?’
‘Not on a Sunday,’ Eve told her. ‘However, I’ll take shots of Francesca with the cakes and the flowers. It’s better than nothing.’
The team turned to begin when a familiar black Range Rover purred to a halt in the car park.
A germ of an idea took root in Rosie’s brain.
Her naughty side cackled with glee.
Oh yeah, come to Mamma.
And she’d show the big lug that she’d not been mooning over him, waiting for him to make his move.
Time to take back control of her life.
‘Hold it!’
Clapping her hands, she did a little happy dance. ‘Girlies, I do believe our prayers have been answered.’
She turned to Francesca and gave the gorgeous model a radiant smile.
‘You need to turn on the charm and bat those baby blues. He can’t resist blondes.’
She’d need to soften him up.
Rosie tugged the scrunchy out of her hair and let the curls flow down to her waist.
Dancing on bare feet, she boogied towards the entrance.
Opening the door with a flourish, Rosie beamed into the bemused face of Alexander whose startled gaze swept over her T-shirt and tiny, very tiny, denim cut-off shorts.
And told herself she wouldn’t be human if she didn’t enjoy the curl of feminine pleasure at the I’ve-been-struck-by-lightening look in his eye.
‘Tell me you don’t have a golf game, or a tennis game or a lunch date?’ she demanded.
Alexander’s brain refused to compute.
He’d been expecting her to be still dazed and confused or at the very least pale and interesting after his spectacular exit a few nights ago.
She gone home early the next morning.
Running, he’d thought absolutely delighted with himself.
But this Rosie didn’t look upset or worried.
She looked fucking gorgeous, excited and filled to the brim with life.
He couldn’t help but stare at those cute toenails painted a glossy aubergine.
His stunned gaze ran over fabulous legs that disappeared into the skimpiest shorts he’d ever seen.
She’d always had spectacular breasts but now they were unconfined, covered by a tissue thin vest. Her nipples thrust upwards.
Jesus.
And her hair, black as coal, was bouncing in silky curls around her shoulders and down her back.
Big Bambi eyes fluttered into his.
She jigged on the spot and those breasts jiggled too.
Blood rushed from his brain to pool in his groin.
Grabbing his hand, chattering all the while, he let Rosie drag him, unresisting, inside.
He couldn’t have refused if a pistol had been put to his head.
And he had absolutely no idea what she was saying.
That full mouth was moving in speech, her dimples winking in her cheeks.
The sensation in his ears was like being underwater.
His eyes were glued to the taut cheeks of her firm little bottom as it wiggled its way into the reception area of Sweet Sensations.
Rosie spun to face him, eyes dark and as wide as her smile.
She placed her fists on her hips stretching the fabric of her top tight across her breasts.
‘Please say yes, Alexander. I’ll be forever grateful. Please say yes?’
Her skin was flawless, the colour of a cafe Latte, although her cheeks were slightly pink. All he could think was she looked beautiful, a little angel.
She took his hand, moved into him and he couldn’t stop staring.
Squeezing his fingers, she gave his hand a gentle tug.
Those eyes, the colour of melted dark chocolate beseeched him as they clung to his and he realised she wanted something from him.
Not a problem.
He’d give her anything.
Anything.
And found himself nodding and saying the words,
‘Sure, whatever you need.’
Her squeal of delight and the cheer that went up from the other people in the room, snapped him back to reality.
He blinked at three complete strangers.
One was a tall lanky platinum blonde of about thirty-five holding a big beast of a camera. A stunning blonde was eyeing him as if he was her favourite candy. And an older woman with crazy blue hair folded her arms, pursed her lips and cocked her head as she studied him from head to toe.
Rosie clapped her hands looking as happy as a clam.
A chill ran up his spine.
His brain was catching up quick, and he seemed to remember words like, photo shoot, wedding cake and something about looking romantic and handsome.
‘You are the best. Right, we need to get you changed. Not that there’s anything wrong with the shirt and jeans. But we need something a little more formal for the tasting photos. And of course, its supposed to be winter, so you’ll need to wear a sweater. And Francesca’s just your type so you shouldn’t have a problem with the love scenes,’ Rosie wittered on.
‘What?’
The photographer gave him a narrowed eyed study which scared the shit out of him.
She nodded her head.
‘You know, he just might work, Rosie.’
She walked around him in a wide circle, then cocked her hip.
‘Good skin. Hair’s a bit too smooth but we can sort that. Perfect.’ She jabbed a finger into his gut. ‘He’s even got a six-pack. What are you, thirty-one inch waist? And I’d say a thirty-six inside leg? Let me see your teeth.’
She moved in to take a close look at his mouth and Alexander found himself giving her a rictus grin.
What the hell was he doing?
‘Okay, strip,’ she ordered.
Not in this lifetime, sister.
With a hard-on the size of the Eiffel Tower, thanks to Rosie’s shorts, Alexander retreated and put up the palms of his hands.
‘No way am I going to strip in front of four women.’
Rosie gave him big eyes, then shrugged.
‘When did you become shy? Okay, you can change upstairs, follow me.’
Snagging a couple of suit carriers off a rail, she led the way up steep stairs to the top floor of her place, which led to her office and two bedrooms.
That little bottom swayed in front of his eyes and he could see the edge of white lacy panties which disappeared into intriguing places.
He couldn’t contain a whimper.
She turned to look at him.
‘What’s the matter? Are you in pain?’
‘No, just wondering if I’ve lost my frigging mind.’
She gave him a beaming smile that shot straight to his heart.
‘I really appreciate this. We’d have lost quite a bit of money if the shoot hadn’t gone ahead. The shots are for our new brochure and the website.’
She led the way into her bedroom which smelt of vanilla and warm, sexy female. It was the most feminine bedroom he’d ever entered and he’d entered his fair share. There was a vast white armoire wardrobe, the doors and drawers spilling out clothes and underwear in silks and cottons. He could smell fresh clean laundry and a scent that was pure Rosie.
Scarves, necklaces and handbags hung from a free standing coat rack in the corner. And row after row of clear plastic shoe boxes were stacked on shelves.
On every ledge and shelf were tea lights.
A snug little sofa in cherry velvet, groaning under the weight of pretty jewelled cushions, sat under a dormer window which was flung open to capture the breeze.
What was i
t with women and cushions and candles?
But what caught his heart, his lungs, was the hulking bed made of wrought iron, painted white, which dominated the room.
A deluge of fat pillows in white Egyptian cotton edged with satin ribbon, matched the summer duvet.
His imagination wasn’t a particularly active one, but it was having no problem at all visualising himself making passionate love to Rosie right in the middle of that big bed.
The ache in his chest was so bad he pressed his hand to the spot.
‘Feel free to use the bathroom.’
She switched on the light and threw open the door to a large pristine well organised space crammed with the lotions and potions that women couldn’t seem to live without.
There was a large old-fashioned claw footed bath tub, a walk in power shower and a double sink. Two stainless steel ladder towel rails were laden with fluffy white towels.
But now he wondered what on earth he’d been thinking agreeing to this?
At a complete loss, he gingerly sat on the edge of the sofa among the cushions and stared at her.
‘I have no idea what I’ve just agreed to.’
Bright eyes danced into his and he knew, right at that moment, he would do anything for her.
‘Aww, I thought you looked a bit shell-shocked. It’s the story of the customer journey at Sweet Sensations,’ Rosie told him as she ticked off her fingers. ‘The champagne tasting of the fillings and cake. The choosing of the cake. The cutting of the cake. You’re the groom. Just remember to try and stay in character. You’re marrying the love of your life. Just imagine staring into the eyes of the woman you love.’
Staring into her eyes, Alexander had the sensation of drowning.
A strange sea-sickly feeling washed over him.
‘I don’t know if I can do this.’
She gave him a friendly pat on the cheek.
‘You’ll be fine. You were really good in the school play.’
He eyed her with a frown.
‘That was ‘Oh, What A Lovely War.’
‘I was too young to remember, but your mother always said you were brilliant in it.’ She held up a suit carrier. ‘Put these on and come down for make-up.’
Make-up?
He stood to leave.
‘That’s it. No way.’
Rosie threw herself at the door barring the way, those dark eyes perfectly sober now.
‘You promised. Every model has to wear make-up, don’t be such a wuss.’
He took a heaving breath, his eyes met hers.
‘Swear you’ll never tell Bronte or Nico about make-up.’
Without hesitation she spat in her palm and held it out.
He stared at it for a long moment, spit into his own and they clasped hands.
‘Deal,’ she said, her lovely face completely serious.
‘Deal, but you owe me big time, angel face.’
Five hours later, Rosie was filled with an equal mix of fierce pride and deep sympathy for Alexander.
In the beginning, he’d closed his eyes, jaw clenched as the make-up girl made him look totally flawless and hid what was left of the bruise on his lip. Good job he was a fast healer.
She didn’t want him to shave saying that the ‘just-got-out-of-bed look was terribly sexy.’
He’d curled his lip in disgust at the remark.
And Rosie’d felt a little pang in her heart at his long-suffering sigh when the girl fiddled with his eyebrows and hair.
He’d pretended to sip champagne for take after take.
Eve had given him a tongue lashing for not staring into Francesca’s eyes with enough arousal, even though the model pressed her breasts into his chest and stared deeply into his eyes.
He’d needed to take a break.
Rosie realised that it was probably the first time in his life a woman had yelled at him to drop his shoulder, to tilt his chin a little forward and to think like a stud muffin.
Along with, ‘For Christ’s sake stare into the bloody camera,’ and, ‘Get your head straight.’
Finally Eve was happy.
Wearing nothing but his jeans, Alexander slumped in a chair sipping a cold beer with the demeanour of a man who’d been hit by a speeding train.
Rosie waved off the girls, shut and locked the door and padded her way back to him.
Poor baby, he looked exhausted.
Her conscience gave her a sharp nudge as she realised he still wore make-up.
It wasn’t often Alexander looked pathetic and pitiful and she was going to make the most of it.
Pulling him to his feet, she enjoyed the curl of lust uncoiling low in her belly.
She told herself to keep it light, keep it fun.
‘Come on, David, let’s get you cleaned up,’ she said.
Still holding hands, they climbed the stairs.
‘Who the hell is David?’ he wanted know, his fingers linking with hers.
She turned to grin at him.
‘David Gandy, the supermodel.’
‘Poor bastard,’ Alexander said with feeling.
‘Oh, I don’t know, he’s very, very good at what he does.’
Walking backwards into her bedroom, Rosie towed a reluctant Alexander into the bathroom.
‘Sit,’ she told him pointing to the side of the bath.
He sat.
She turned on the hot water tap on a washbasin; washed, dried her hands, plucked a couple of white muslin cloths from a basket on the shelf and swished them in the water.
Then opened a cupboard, took out a bottle and dumped a fat dollop of cream on the palm of her hand.
‘Open your legs.’
He did as he was told and she stood between them.
‘Lift up your chin and close your eyes.’
‘What is it?’ he asked, voice dripping with suspicion.
‘Cleanser.’
He eyed it as if it was radioactive.
‘No way. I’m a man. I use soap and water.’
She merely raised a brow.
‘How often do you wear heavy foundation?’ she wanted to know in a silky voice.
‘This is a first for me,’ he responded through clenched teeth.
‘Correct. Which means you don’t know how to remove it. This is cleanser. I’ll spread it on your pretty face, blend it in and then remove it with a damp hot cloth.’
‘Christ!’
She bit down hard on her top lip, if she laughed she wouldn’t see him for dust. And he’d been such a good sport.
‘Just sit back and think of England.’
Alexander closed his eyes and took a very deep breath.
Chapter Twenty Four
The whole process, Rosie decided, was oddly relaxing.
Her hand shook as the light scent of the cleanser mingled with the scent of man, just washed jeans and his signature cologne.
Being able to touch his skin, to feel the sharp contours of those amazing cheekbones to smooth that firm jaw was so heavenly Rosie decided to make the most of it.
She took it very carefully and super slowly.
Her fingertips tingled, the pads became wonderfully sensitive and warm. A strange feeling of being super-aware of him caught her throat and she realised their breathing had become synchronised.
Biting down hard on her bottom lip, she swished the cloths in warm water, squeezed out the excess and gently wiped his skin clean.
He had the most amazing eyelashes, nut brown, long and thick.
She smoothed the cloth over one brow, the other, and watched him run his tongue over his top teeth usually a sign he wasn’t particularly comfortable.
He wasn’t frowning although she realised that he was holding the edge of bath in a death grip and his shoulders appeared tense.
‘There you go.’
His eyes opened and as he swayed towards her his hands seized her hips.
‘Are you sure it’s all off?’
She sent him a cheeky smile.
‘Yep. Want moisturise
r?’
‘Want a spanking?’
‘No, but I do want to thank you for helping us today. I appreciate it.’
‘You owe me.’
She couldn’t help it, she ran her fingers through his tousled hair and smiled into his face.
‘What do you want?’
Those incredible eyes, deepened now to a vivid emerald.
His pupils dilated and she caught her breath.
Alexander took his time just stroking her, absorbing the feel of the softness of her skin on those endless legs.
Her delectable breasts were at eye level.
After all he was only human, made of flesh and blood and his libido jolted painfully as her nipples hardened under his gaze.
He took a deep breath, inhaling the essence of her, she smelt of a light floral scent and something that was simply Rosie.
His thumbs pressed and rubbed her hip bones as he pulled her closer, her thigh pressing against his swollen groin. And she took a sharp inhalation of breath that did wonderful things to his pulse.
‘You have your tits in my face.’
‘So?’
‘Dicey place for them to be. I might not be able to control myself.’
Rosie whipped off her top and for a moment Alexander forgot how to breathe.
‘Who’s asking you to?’
Her fingers tunnelled in his hair and she took another shaky breath frowning into his eyes. Along with arousal and bravado he recognised a shadow of doubt in those big dark eyes and it killed him.
‘Are you sure you want to do this?’ he asked.
Please say yes.
‘I’m sure.’
His heart hammered in his ears.
This close he felt the way her pulse raced, the way her breathing hitched.
‘We should have done this a long time ago,’ he told her softly.
He’d always wanted her, but he’d held back, always too scared to change the status quo. Too scared in case something went wrong and it changed the dynamic of his friendship with her and her friendship with Bronte too. They’d always been close, the three of them, through thick and thin.
Rosie knew everything about him.
He moved an inch closer, his lips almost touching that bullet hard nipple and he used the tip of his tongue to flick the tight bud.
A shudder ran through the length of her body and she closed her eyes, her fingers clutching his hair.
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