No Red Roses: A Loveswept Classic Romance (Santa Flores)

by Iris Johansen

  “No,” she said, feeling suddenly a little sick. Rex was right. She and Jenny had been insane to take such a terrible risk. It had all seemed so safe and amusing when Jenny had suggested it, but now she wondered how she could have been so abysmally naïve.

  “Then the climax to the entire lousy evening,” Rex continued silkily. “After driving hell for leather through the desert to rescue you, I arrive at the scene only to be knocked breathless by you when you run into me. To add insult to injury, you then give me a punch to the solar plexus that just about put me out of commission!”

  “Oh!” Tamara guiltily covered her lips with her hand. “I forgot about that,” she said in a small voice. “I’m very sorry.”

  “I suppose I really should be grateful for small favors,” he said. He strolled leisurely around the bar to stand before her, legs spread apart and arms folded across his chest. She’d thought when she’d first seen him in that outfit that he looked like a buccaneer. The effect was doubly intensified now by the aura of danger surrounding him. “You haven’t even thanked me for that marvelous getaway.”

  She smiled slightly. “Thank you, Rex,” she said obediently.

  “You’re welcome,” he said tersely. He grabbed her wrist, turned, and strode across the living room, dragging her behind him.

  “Wait! Where are we going?” she asked as she hurried to keep up with him.

  “I’m going to let you prove how grateful you are,” he said curtly as he threw open her bedroom door. “But first I’m going to put you in the shower. I make it a practice never to take to bed a woman who looks like she’s been cleaning chimneys.” He ran a finger down her cheek and held it up to show her the dust on it.

  “It must have been when I was looking in the window of the schoolhouse,” she muttered absently. Then the entire meaning of his sentence sank in. “What do you mean you’re taking me to bed?” she exclaimed. “What about the commitment? What about the responsibility?”

  “To hell with the responsibility,” he said as he pulled her into the adjoining bathroom. “Anyone with a wicked body punch like yours can damn well take care of herself!”

  He started the shower, then turned back to her. She stared at him bemusedly while he impersonally unbuttoned her black shirt and undid the front catch of her bra. He next unfastened the band that held her hair in place and the silky, dark mane tumbled over her shoulders. She was suddenly poignantly aware of the overpowering warmth and hardness of him in the confines of the bathroom. She could feel her heartbeat accelerate as he stripped her of the shirt and bra as if she were a lifeless mannequin. His face was closed and expressionless and suddenly she couldn’t bear it.

  His hands were on the waistband of her jeans now, and she reached out to stop him. He looked up, a frown crossing his face.

  “Rex, I’ll do anything you like,” she said quietly, “but please, not in anger.”

  His face remained expressionless as he gazed into her pleading eyes. “That’s up to you,” he said coolly. “Persuade me.”

  She felt a sense of shock at the bold words, and for a moment she didn’t know how to comply with his demand. Then her hands hesitantly went to his shirt and slowly started to unbutton it.

  “I think you need a shower too,” she said huskily. She unbuttoned the last button and took a step closer to ease it over his brawny shoulders. Her aroused nipples teased him as she worked the shirt with painstaking slowness down his arms. She heard his sharply indrawn breath and watched with mounting excitement the leaping pulse in the hollow of his bronze throat. She was suddenly enjoying this. She stepped back and swiftly stripped off her jeans and the tiny bikini panties beneath. She stepped under the shower and let the water cascade over her, but she didn’t close the frosted shower door.

  Rex stood staring at her as if mesmerized as the flowing water turned her hair into a glossy seal-like cap and pearled in iridescent drops on her shoulders and breasts. “Lord!” The cry broke from him with guttural violence. His face was no longer expressionless but flushed and taut with need. It took only seconds for him to shed the rest of his clothes and join her under the spray, closing the shower door after him. The narrow confines of the stall forced them in breathlessly close proximity and suddenly Tamara’s boldness vanished as if it had never been.

  She looked up, her eyes wide and hesitant, and met his almost blindingly intense gaze. “Rex?” She didn’t know what she was entreating, but whatever it was she knew it must come from him. Everything must come from him. She stepped closer and slipped her arms about his waist and buried her face in the rough dark hair on his chest.

  Suddenly she heard a rumbling chuckle beneath her ear, and his arms slid lovingly around her and pulled her to him, branding her with his hard need. “Damn it, sweetheart,” he said wryly, as he wound one hand in her hair. “I stepped into this shower stall expecting to be seduced by a violet-eyed Lilith and I find a young Juliet in my arms.”

  She hugged him closer, relieved at the thread of tenderness running through the words. “Give a girl a chance,” she said huskily. “I’m a fast learner. I only need practice.”

  He tilted her head back and kissed her lingeringly, his tongue licking teasingly at the drops of water beading her lips. “I intend to give you plenty of that,” he said thickly. His warm tongue lazily stroked the pulse point in her throat before moving down to tease her pink-crested breasts with quickening intensity.

  Then he was sliding down her body to kneel before her. “Open for me, sweetheart,” he ordered hoarsely, his hands gently prying her thighs apart. “I want to come in.” One hand reached behind her to cup her buttocks while the other crept between her thighs.

  He pressed his head to her belly, rubbing it in a nestling motion against her softness. She gave a low moan that was more of a gasp as he began a slow teasing stroking that set her afire. It was incredibly arousing, standing there with the warm, sensuous water cascading over her breasts like gentle caressing hands, while Rex’s own hands were doing these fantastic things to her lower body.

  His lips were nibbling softly at her belly now, his tongue stroking her navel teasingly while his fingers kept up that torrid rhythm that was causing her to arch against him in a fever of need.

  “You’re dewing for me again, babe. I can feel it.” He kissed her belly softly. “Lord, I’d love to see it.” He chuckled. “But I don’t think I’d better right now. I’m about ready to explode just from touching you.”

  Then he was on his feet, both hands cupping her buttocks and lifting her to his loins. She gave a strangled cry as he rubbed her with a slow, teasing rhythm against his iron-hard arousal, before clutching her to him so tightly that she gave an involuntary moan.

  “Sorry, love,” he gasped. His arms were shaking as he carefully put her down and pushed her away from him. “We’d better get out of here before I start demonstrating a few of the more advanced positions in the Kama Sutra. You haven’t even tried the basic ones yet!”

  He briskly opened the shower door and whisked her out, enveloping her in a huge, white bath towel and rubbing the rough terry cloth over her with swift, gentle hands. When she would have taken up another towel to return the favor, he shook his head ruefully, and said, “Best not, babe!” He dried himself quickly and then, picking her up with the eager boldness of a corsair claiming his plunder, carried her to the bed.

  In the hours that followed, Tamara at last understood her aunt’s odd remark regarding the music in Rex Brody. Every movement was a symphony as he built her responses to a feverish pitch of mindless need. His lips brushing teasing butterfly kisses on her throat and shoulders was a delicate pianissimo of sensation, his gentle nibbling on her swelling breasts and inner thighs was crescendo. And then he parted her legs to enter her and show her the mind-shattering ecstasy of the final fortissimo.

  Even later, as he held her tenderly against him, cradling her still damp head in the hard hollow of his shoulder, she felt the gentle, golden notes of a passionate contentment.

&nb
sp; “Was it really good for you, babe?” Rex’s words, rumbling beneath her ear, surprised her out of her euphoric bemusement.

  “You know it was.” She sighed happily. “You must be one helluva lover, Rex Brody.” Her index finger idly traced patterns in the springy dark hair on his chest. “Of course, I’m really too much of an amateur to judge.”

  “Nonsense!” He chuckled. “Your opinion is probably much more valid because you haven’t had other samplings to confuse you! But you’re quite right, I am a fantastic lover.”

  She looked up, knowing she would see those midnight eyes dancing with mischief. “Was it as good for you?” she asked uncertainly, suddenly worried that she’d been so bedazzled by her own pleasure she’d imagined his insatiable response.

  His eyes were suspiciously bright as he looked down at her face. “Oh, babe,” he said huskily. His hand lovingly traced the smooth line of her cheek. “Oh, dear heaven, babe!” And somehow his very inarticulateness was most satisfying.

  Rex drew the covers up about them and then laid her head on the pillow, bending over with his arms on each side of her. His dark eyes flickering, he said hoarsely, “Rest for a bit, sweetheart. It’s going to be a long athletic night.” A glint of mischief appeared as he added, “And then we just might take another shower!”

  TEN

  IT WAS NEARLY noon when Tamara languidly opened her eyes. Bright sunlight was streaming through the delicate, gossamer white drapes at the window and Rex was sitting on the edge of the bed, dressed in a black velour robe, and gazing at her with such tender absorption that she caught her breath in wonder.

  “It’s rude to stare at someone when they’re asleep,” she reproved throatily, thinking how strong and vibrant he looked sitting there.

  “I like to look at you,” he said simply. He bent to kiss her gently. “I like to touch you.” He nuzzled her hair. “I even like the scent of you.” He drew back reluctantly. “I’ve ordered breakfast. Sit up, woman.” He stood up and strode out the bedroom door.

  She obediently sat up in the bed, tucking the sheet around her and brushing her hair away from her face. It was a little late for modesty, she thought wryly. Rex had taken great sensual pleasure in memorizing every inch of her body in those wild, passionate hours last night.

  He returned and placed a covered rattan tray carefully on her lap, then removed the stainless steel covers with a flourish. “I hope everything is satisfactory, madam,” he said, then spoiled the servile effect by plopping back down on the bed and taking a slice of crisp bacon from the tray.

  “You’re not having breakfast?” she asked, nibbling at a piece of buttered toast.

  He shook his head. “I’m not really hungry and I’ll be having a long business lunch with Scotty and a record company executive. They want me to record ‘My Lady’ on a single even before my next album comes out.” He took another piece of bacon and munched it lazily. “I tried to get out of it, but Scotty said Phillips arrived in Vegas last night.” He grimaced. “I’ll probably be in conference up until showtime tonight.”

  Tamara felt a twinge of disappointment that she quickly smothered. She knew she shouldn’t expect Rex to throw all commitments to the winds just because she wanted to be back in his arms. She smiled brightly. “So you’re going to make ‘My Lady’ a star in the musical firmament?”

  He returned her smile tenderly. “My lady is a star,” he said, running his hand in a gentle caress over her dark silky hair. “Don’t ever doubt that, little star.”

  She felt an aching lump in her throat. She would not cry. “Are you sure you won’t have some breakfast?”

  “Now that you mention it, I’ve suddenly discovered a voracious appetite,” he said lightly. “Did you know that I have a sweet tooth?”

  She shook her head warily. There was a playful devil flickering in his eyes that put her on her guard.

  “Well, I do. For instance, I’m absolutely crazy about honey.” He picked up the small cup of honey beside her plate. “Do you like honey, sweetheart?”

  “I can take it or leave it,” she said, puzzled.

  “I prefer to take it,” he said thickly. With one deft movement he pushed the sheet down to her waist, baring her breasts. Then, dipping his finger in the honey, he placed the tiniest drop on each taut nipple.

  “Rex!” Tamara exclaimed, her eyes widening.

  But his dark head was already bending down and his warm, teasing tongue was licking at the honey-tipped rosette. He was most thorough and when he finally raised his head, they were both flushed and breathless.

  He reluctantly covered her to the shoulders with the sheet. “You wouldn’t consider staying right in that position until I come back?” he asked wistfully.

  She shook her head slowly, her lips twitching at his disappointed expression.

  “I didn’t think so.” He sighed, then rose to his feet. “I’ve got to dress.” He strolled lazily toward the bathroom and paused at the door to look back at her hopefully. “You wouldn’t care to come and shower with me?”

  “Again?” She chuckled. “I’m practically waterlogged!”

  “Just a thought,” he said, and disappeared into the bathroom.

  Tamara put aside the tray and slipped out of bed. She wandered to the closet, pulled out a sunshine yellow, crepe negligee, and slipped it on. The color exactly matched her mood as she brushed her dark hair until it shimmered with blue highlights. No makeup now, she decided. She was positively blooming.

  She walked back to the breakfast tray and took a sip of coffee, then made a face. There was nothing as depressing as cold coffee. She left the bedroom and made her way to the kitchen. As she put on a fresh pot of coffee, she mentally checked out the things she could do today until it was time to dress for Rex’s performance. First on the list was to try to call Aunt Elizabeth again. Then she would work on her book for a bit, and then she really must call Jenny.

  The doorbell rang as she was taking down two cups and saucers from the cabinet. As she was about to answer it, Rex called from the foyer, “I’ll get it.” She turned back to the counter and poured two fresh, hot cups of coffee. She was searching the refrigerator for cream when Rex walked into the kitchen, looking amazingly conservative for him in a dark blue business suit. He was carrying an enormous, white florist box.

  “I called down to the florist in the lobby earlier,” he said, as he handed her the box. “I was hoping they’d come sooner so I could present them in a bit more romantic setting.”

  Her face lit up and her violet eyes blazed radiantly with the hope his words inspired. She put the box on the kitchen table and opened it with shaking hands.

  Camellias. Dozens of perfect, deliciously scented, white camellias in their bed of shining, dark green leaves. A splendidly lavish offering that would make any woman ecstatic. Not red roses.

  She could feel a deadly lassitude wash over her, banishing the euphoria that had possessed her. Why couldn’t it have been red roses, she wondered dully.

  “What’s the matter? Don’t you like them?” Rex asked sharply, his eyes on her face.

  “I love them,” she said huskily, staring down at the flowers blindly. “I’ve always liked camellias.” She turned away so he wouldn’t see the tears brimming in her eyes. “Would you like a cup of coffee before you leave?” She walked back to the counter.

  “I don’t have time. Scotty will be here to pick me up any minute,” he said absently, gazing at her slender, tense back in angry puzzlement. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

  “Nothing,” she said quickly, adding cream to one of the coffees. With a supreme effort of will, she steadied her shaking hands, picked up the cup, and turned to face him. “I guess I won’t see you until the performance tonight,” she said, smiling brightly.

  “That’s right.” He stared at her pale face and wide, empty eyes. “Damn it, Tamara, you look like I’ve dealt you a mortal wound. Will you tell me what’s wrong, for God’s sake?”

  “You’re imagining things. Everythi
ng is just splendid.”

  He gave a snort of exasperation and ran a distracted hand through his hair. “Tamara …” The doorbell rang and he muttered a very explicit curse. “Look, Tamara, I don’t know what the hell is wrong, but I know there’s something. I’ll get to the bottom of it tonight.”

  He strode out of the room and with relief Tamara sagged weakly against the counter. She didn’t think she could have stood it one more minute without breaking down if Rex had continued that ruthless probing.

  She took a deep breath and straightened her shoulders. How foolish to let it hurt her so. She’d known that he didn’t love her. Nothing had changed because of two passionate nights that had given them both fantastic pleasure. Even while he’d raised her to magnificent physical heights with his lovemaking, he’d never spoken one word of love. She wrapped her arms around her body as a painful shudder shook her. But she loved him so much. Why couldn’t he love her just a little?

  She walked numbly into the hall and sat down on the wine-colored, cushioned phone bench and picked up the phone. Aunt Elizabeth. She must call Aunt Elizabeth. Her fingers automatically dialed the number, and she leaned her head back wearily against the wall while the phone rang.

  When Aunt Elizabeth picked up the receiver, Tamara straightened in the chair with a shock of relief. “Aunt Elizabeth? Thank heavens! I’ve been trying to reach you since yesterday.”

  “Tamara, darling, how wonderful to hear your voice,” her aunt said placidly. “Lawrence and I were out in the woods yesterday, gathering specimens he wants to use in his next paper. We didn’t get home until nearly ten.”

  Lawrence? Oh yes, Professor Billings. Tamara relaxed infinitesimally as she realized Aunt Elizabeth sounded her usual, cheerful self. Perhaps she hadn’t even read that dreadful paper.