Chapter Seven

 

“Your company must be paying a fortune for that suite,” she commented as they left the apartment, a smaller bag in her hand while he slung her pack over his shoulder, their fingers entwined as they went down the stairs to the underground. Rose badged through and sighed.

“Your apartment is too small, Rose…and only one bath…”

“I know…it’s not really meant for two people.”

“Is this bothering you?”

“I…it’s new…and I’m not sure how comfortable I am coming and going from the hotel like a guest,” she pulled the corner of her cheek between her teeth in thought. “I honestly don’t know, Ryan.”

“Is it the suite that makes you uncomfortable, Rose?” He asked carefully, leaning on the rail that moved with the walkway, gliding them beneath the massive hotel and casino. “Should I ask for a more modest room?” He almost laughed at the gleam in her eyes.

“It’s that talk about money…coming back to haunt me,” she mumbled, watching the signs on the various exits for them to take.

“How about we try why it bothers you?”

Rose stood up and moved carefully, leading him from the moving walkway to the exit she wanted, slowly taking the few steps and badging through the door.

“I think…I suppose if I thought about it…” Rose ran her free hand over her head, raking the unruly waves back.

“Nervous?” He met her gaze when she immediately glanced up at him. He wasn’t sure she was aware of the gestures he was becoming fond of, the hands in her hair was one of them. Watching the mixture of colors falls around her face seemed to fascinate him.

“If I had thought much about spending nights with someone, I guess I envisioned it with someone…” The tip of her tongue touched the corner of her mouth, her brain searching frantically for the right, politically correct words.

“In your tax bracket?”

Rose looked over at him, the edge in his voice unhidden. “Yes. That’s part of it…the other part is…the line between employee and guest.”

“So which is the larger problem we need to work out?” Ryan arched a brow when she sighed and leaned on the bar inside the elevator.

“You’re angry.”

“I’m…puzzled. Lately by too many things, Rose. You’d think at thirty-five I’d have figured out all the curves and niches to life.” He stared at her for a long minute. “I can’t say as I’ve given a thought to my earning potential being an obstacle to finding a partner.”

“I…it’s not an obstacle,” she protested through a sigh, his words continuing to echo in her mind. Partner. Her mind whimpered.

“Afraid of comments? The opinions of others?”

“Maybe…I don’t know what it is…”

“You won’t allow it to come between us,” he said firmly.

“Because you won’t?”

“I won’t,” he agreed flatly. “But it still requires both of us, Rose.”

“No, Ryan…I won’t. Sometimes…” Rose lifted a hand from her side, her fingers soft over his cheek. “You seem very…not sad…but…bothered. When we met on the track I could see that…but I don’t think it’s your project either.”

Ryan trapped her palm with his, a warm kiss placed in the center before leading her to the suite at the end of the hall.

“Use the other half of the closet, Rose,” he broke from her and went to the desk he was using next to the kitchen, a blinking light catching his attention. “I have to check on this.”

“I’m okay, Ryan…go work,” she told him with a shake of her head, taking the pack from his fingers and moving into the huge bedroom. Her cheeks puffed up, the air pushed free in a very long, slow stream.

What are you doing, Rose Maddock? She heard the question resounding through her mind but there was no corresponding answer to greet it.

Rose tapped the plate outside the large walk in closet and heard her brain whimper. It had been a very long time since she stood in the open arch of a walk in closet. She closed her eyes for a long, silent minute before setting the pack on the built in bench and began putting things on hangers, a pair of small boots out to sit on the floor. She had her gym things folded and repacked for the next day before taking the smaller bag she carried to the huge bathroom.

He found her leaning on the counter before the large mirror in the bathroom, just staring, palms down flat and eyes blinking. She must have caught sight of him, hastily straightening up, a smile tugging her lips.

“Problems fixed?” She asked, taking the palm he held out to her. They stood toe to toe, hands at their sides and fingers entwined. Her sigh was soft and relaxed when his mouth covered hers, moving hotly from corner to corner, his tongue out to trace the full lips seconds after he’d bit down gently.

“They’ll be there tomorrow and will be dealt with,” he said, shoving them aside and backing toward the bed. “It’s time for bed, Rose,” he released her fingers, warm palms caressing up her arms and over her shoulders, fingers splayed against each cheek before he repeat the kiss until both of them were wrestling with clothing and breathing. And uncertain which had priority.

 

Rose opened her eyes a long time later, sighing thickly as she watched him tap out lights and return to the bed. She decided she definitely liked the way his muscles moved and the way the unruly dark hair caressed the angles of his face. She met the single arched brow.

“You’re staring,” she said softly, rolling to face him, her hand up and brushing the long strands around his ear.

“I’m…”

“Puzzled?”

“Still…but about too many things.” It was frustrating, new and fascinating all at the same time, he realized as he tucked her against him and pulled the blankets over them. “Thank you for staying, Rose. Thank you for listening…”

She closed her eyes, her head nestled between his arm and chest, her lips brushing his skin. Her palm rested near her face until he took it, wrapping their fingers together and slipping off to sleep.

 

 

Rose stirred slowly. She didn’t know how to explain it. Even to herself. She cuddled closer, her palm stroking gently down his chest. Something in his scent. His nearness had broken into her senses and awoke the female in her. A stronger tingle made her move her hip, raise her leg and stroke her foot down his leg, the apex of her pressing hotly against his hip.

She liked the low, husky groan that slipped from between his lips when she rose up, brushing her mouth hotly over his, drawing him slowly from some endless dream. She liked tracing the full shape of his mouth with her tongue, smiled when his tongue came out to play with hers, his palm rising from his side, fingers spearing the silken hair on the side of her head.

Rose took one of the foil packets from the nightstand and slowly, torturously sheathed him before sliding her leg over him. Her fingers stroked through her moisture, taking him in her palm and guiding him to the hot, tight center and slowly, very slowly, easing him inside her.

Ryan thought he was dreaming. Nothing had prepared him for a woman like Rose Maddock. She aroused him and stoked the need until he thought he would lose his mind. His body burned with hunger and tremored beneath the firm, hard strokes of her body against his. She’d slid her palms into his, used him for leverage and squeezed him with muscles he knew ran strong and deep. The sleek, slender body arched and pulled groans from him when she angled her body just right, the explosive tremors beginning with the loud, thick sound of his name on her lips. Her fingers curled tightly around his as she rode the powerful burst, his body following without consulting him, his hips thrust against her hard and demanding.

And still he knew it would never be enough. It would never be finished.

Rose let herself drift lazily against him, a warm, soft kiss brushing her throat, tipping her chin up until his mouth covered hers.

“I hope you don’t mind…”

“I’m completely at your disposal,” he teased softly. “I appreciate being invited along for the ride,” he gently dislodged her, moving to the bathroom in the darkness. His gaze swept the clock with a long, slow breath as he climbed into the bed. Almost three in the morning. He rolled to his side, burying his chin into the hollow of her throat and settling down contentedly to sleep. An amazing dream.

 

Puzzled. That was still the word in his mind in the morning as he stood beneath the hot, stinging spray. And yet, happy. He had to search for awhile for the right, simple word. He’d never given much thought to the simple form of the word before. It wasn’t a complicated word and he suddenly realized part of him was trying to complicate what was truly a simple feeling.

Before Rose. Rose reached for him. Rose seduced him. Rose didn’t shy from his temper. Rose wasn’t complicated, he realized with a deep, easy laugh. She laughed with him, teased him, critiqued him and debated with him. Some of their discussions ended in a draw with both of them eyeing the other warily. The intelligence and humor he’d seen in her eyes that first day were the cause of his bafflement. She was stunning, when she chose to be; at other times, she reminded him of a college kid, pack slung over one shoulder and sneakers skipping along the concrete.

And she wanted him. For him. Nothing else entered into it. He’d accepted it blindly and he wasn’t sure why. Something around her, something that smiled at him through those wide, tawny eyes had soothed a part of him he had no idea was still restless. Still vulnerable and pained. Honest and simple trust.

There was simple again, he mused, pouring coffee and taking a long, slow taste of the flavorful blend. A blend he had made for him and didn’t shy from paying the price for it. His free hand rubbed over his neck. He rolled his shoulders and had a bad feeling that made him look toward the computer. Neither his phone or the computer had made a noise, yet something….

He quickly knotted the tie, drained the rest of the coffee and finished the toasted bagel Rose had left for him before dashing out to the health center. Ryan Flannary made it to the door of his suite seconds before the knock echoed through the early morning. He’d come in from his run in time to grab Rose up by her shoulders, take a long, hard kiss and watch her dash out.

“Brought you a present, boss…and I hope it’s doesn’t end up being a problem,” the forty something man pressed the folded newspaper into the chest of the man he worked for, dragging one palm over the damp, shortly clipped pale hair and heading to the kitchen.

He let the door swing closed, his hands opening the local paper and glancing over at Hayworth.

“Clues?”

“Try the business section…oh, and then definitely the social pages,” he poured coffee and went digging in the fridge for milk. “You never have milk.”

“I don’t drink milk,” Ryan answered absently, fingers tightening to almost white when he caught the photos. Someone had caught him with Rose. In the restaurant, on the track and in the hot tub. He swore emphatically, crumpling pages as he went in search of the society version. “Christ…I hate the press…”

“Yeah, I thought that might irk,” he leaned against the counter, elbows back.

“I’ve got to be downtown,” he tipped his wrist up and grabbed a brief case from the desk, checking the contents and dropping the paper inside.

“I’ve sent you some links to houses in the area. Two I think you’ll find fitting what you want,” Hayworth drained the cup and matched his stride with Ryan’s.

“Thanks, I’ll look them over,” he shook his head, staring straight ahead as they walked to the waiting car. “Maybe she doesn’t read the papers. Very few people do these days.”

“Hold that thought, boss,” he responded with a low chuckle, sliding behind the wheel and tapping the desired address.