A Suitable Wife: A Sweetwater Springs Novel (13 page)

“We also have a workout room on the third floor and a full spa to your right when you step off the elevators into the lobby. Couples are usually interested in dinner for two at our four-star restaurant, Chez Henri. One of the most romantic places in the city, its gourmet fare caters to lovers and . . .” The bellhop continued his practiced spiel.

Sam glanced at Rosie, wishing they were alone. They hadn’t bothered to change, and it was obvious they’d made a beeline here from their wedding. If he didn’t feel so desperate inside, it would be comical.

The young man continued talking during their trek the length of a long hall, where he opened the door and held it to allow Sam access to carry Rosie across the threshold. That much of the young man’s chatter penetrated, and Sam complied. He sat Rosie on her feet, tipped the eager young man as soon as the bags hit the floor, thanked him and closed the door at his heels.

Finally, they were alone.

Rosie glanced pointedly at their luggage and back to him. “What, no computer bag? I thought for sure—”

“Oh, stop. If I hadn’t buried myself in work these last two weeks, I wouldn’t have been able to take these two days off and enjoy it.”

Rosie crossed the living/sitting room and stood inside the entrance to the bedroom. Her eyes were large, taking everything in. “Oh, I think we’ll enjoy it, all right.”

His gaze following the same path Rosie’s took, Sam glanced around the room. He noted the congratulatory dozen red roses, huge chocolate-covered strawberries, heart-shaped truffles wrapped in gold and a bottle of Dom Pérignon chilling on a small dining table. The latter was accompanied by two champagne flutes with stems made of tiny hearts.

Reaching Rosie’s side, he turned to see what had caught her eye. The scene caused a flood of images to tease his mind, and a tingling in his groin. “Your brothers sure know how to stage a seduction.”

“I’m thinking Sara and Claire contributed significantly in this effort.”

“A joint effort? How appropriate.” He stepped forward, wrapped his arms around her and pulled her snuggly against him.

Across the rose-petal strewn bed lay a white lace negligee. Sam wasn’t sure if there was actually enough lace and ribbon to cover much of anything, but he supposed that was precisely the point. The same adage could be applied to the briefest of men’s underwear that accompanied it.

“I’m not wearing those,” he stated, before Rosie got any ideas to the contrary.

On the dresser to their left, a heart shaped basket held some kind of oil, body chocolate, and a can of spray-on whipping cream.

He turned her in his arms and discovered her desire hadn’t waned during their short trip any more than his had.

Except for a rather large order from room service to replenish their energy, Sam and Rosie had no interaction with the outside world until the following afternoon.

Sam awoke slowly to a stirring of desire and someone crowding him. Rosie snuggled against his side, one breast pillowed on his arm, a leg draped over both of his. Her hair was tousled and even in sleep, she looked well loved.

She stirred, the action drawing his gaze to the perfect outline of her breast, its cinnamon nipple showing faintly through a lacy strip in the white negligee he’d convinced her to model.

One corner of this mouth quirked, remembering how she’d agreed, but only after convincing him it was in his best interests to wear the briefs. Damned if she hadn’t been right.

His breathing deepened with the memory. A little sexual awakening was in order.

She looked so uninhibited, so inviting. Even a little wanton. He couldn’t believe he wanted her again so soon after the pleasure they’d indulged in. Would he ever get enough? He turned toward her, inches at a time, his erection nestling against the heated juncture between her thighs. Oh, yeah.

He nudged his hips forward a bit and raised his gaze to clear blue eyes shuttered with desire.

“Morning,” she murmured, rolling her pelvis forward with a nudge of her own. The fiction sent torturous pleasure coursing through him.

“I’m hungry,” she announced.

“That’s because it’s early afternoon. Good thing we’ve got late checkout.”

“Is there any whipped cream left?”

“You finished it off with the body chocolate when you declared me dessert, remember?”

“Mmm. Yes, I do.” Her lips stretched into a lazy smile. “As I recall, you thanked me very nicely too. Strawberries?”

“Long gone, along with the champagne.”

“What about the last truffle?”

“That one’s mine.”

“There was a baker’s dozen and we split the rest evenly, so we should share it.”

He twisted toward his nightstand and retrieved the last gold-wrapped heart. “Fair enough.”

Since one arm lay beneath her she assisted him in removing the foil. Together, they broke it in half. Sam held his portion to her lips. “Here. You can have mine.”

Her gaze turned serious as she offered her half to him. “And you can have mine.”

The moment felt strangely symbolic. Was he reading too much into sharing a candy heart? Ever since they’d agreed to a truce, Rosie was different. While he knew better, it sure felt like they’d entered into a real marriage. The love, marriage and a baby carriage kind she’d been afraid they couldn’t pull off.

The kind he hadn’t thought himself capable of, but was beginning to reconsider.

“Hey, where’d you go? I’m feeling neglected.” Her lips, puffy from his kisses, formed a pout.

He claimed her mouth gently at first as he rubbed his knuckles across the tips of her nipples and lightly squeezed them between his thumb and forefinger. Little nibbles and kisses followed, then another kiss, more heated now. God help him, he wanted her eyes open and watching when he buried himself deep inside her.

Their tongues mated the way their bodies longed to. Sam reached between them, readying her. Rosie locked her arms around him, a low moan coming from the back of her throat, and tugged.

Sam needed no further encouragement. He rose over her and joined their bodies with one thrust. Her gasp fueled his need, but worried him at the same time. “Are you okay?”

“Yes. Don’t stop.” Her hands roamed his body, enflaming him further. They rocked together in a silent rhythm.

Silent tears traversed her temples when Rosie came apart beneath him. Her muscles contracted, bringing his pleasure crashing in.

Whatever this was, it sure felt real.

CHAPTER TWELVE

R
osie counted three vehicles parked in front of her house—Travis’s white truck, her mom’s ancient gray Volvo, and J.T’s dark green SUV.

Sam eased to the curb, since the driveway was full. “Any Southern post-wedding rituals I need to know about?”

She smiled at the trepidation in his tone. “Can’t think of any. Chivalries went the way of the horse and buggy. Besides, that had some weird connection to the wedding night.”

“I’ll carry you across the threshold.”

“You did that at the hotel.”

“We’ve got an audience.”

“Right.” She ignored the stinging reminder of their true situation, then gripped his arm, in a sudden panic. “What if something’s happened to Lorelei?”

She was halfway out of the vehicle before Sam’s voice penetrated her fear. “They would have called. We’ve both got our cell phones with us, remember?”

“Of course. What was I thinking?” She pressed her palm to her chest and took a deep breath before joining him on the sidewalk. “They probably dropped by after church to bring her home and decided to wait for us.”

“All of them?” He cocked his head toward her. “We could go in and see.” Taking her elbow, he walked her up the slight incline. Did he realize he’d been doing more of that lately, touching her casually, relaxing his guard?

At the door he faced her with a pleased smile, his gaze affectionate and untroubled. “Thank you, Mrs. Moreland.”

His formal tone had her responding in kind. “I’m afraid you’ll have to be more specific, Mr. Moreland. With everything that’s transpired between us this weekend, I can’t be sure what you’re thanking me for.”

The light in his eyes changed, grew warmer with her reference. “Don’t distract me, woman,” he growled playfully. “I’m talking about your concern for Lorelei. The way you wanted to rush to her side.”

“Oh, Sam, you don—”

He kissed her fast and hard. “Don’t tell me not to be grateful. For you, that kind of loving concern is a constant in your life, like breathing. But for someone who doesn’t have that, it’s everything.”

Was he talking about Lorelei or himself?

Before Rosie could clear the lump in her throat and ask, the door swung open beside them. “I thought I heard voices out here. Welcome home, honeymooners!” Her mama’s exuberant voice effectively severed the fragile link with her new husband.

Temporary husband, remember?

More voices joined in, welcoming them home as Sam literally swept her off her feet, carried her inside and carefully returned her to a standing position. Her family applauded and cheered.

“Don’t worry. We’ll be gone in no time, but with both of you having to work tomorrow, Mama thought you could use some help moving,” J.T. explained.

“M-moving?” Her gaze darted to Sam, who looked just as clueless.

J.T. laughed. “You were right, Mama. They haven’t even thought about combining their stuff.”

“Oh, but—”

Sam squeezed her arm in warning. “That’s very nice. Thanks.” He turned away as his cell phone played the familiar “cha-chung” sound from the old television show
Law and Order
.

“Excuse me, I’ve got to take this.”

“Don’t worry about it. We’ve got it all under control,” her mother shoed Rosie back a few steps as John Thomas and Travis came through carrying Lorelei’s toy chest. “You guys leave that in the hallway upstairs. If you go in, you’ll wake her.”

Turning back to Rosie, she linked their arms and tugged her toward the kitchen, nattering all the way. “She’s been really fussy. Could be two-year molars are working their way through. Could be she was nervous about staying with your daddy and me. Who knows? But I thought you should be aware.”

“We should tell Sam.”

“Honey,” Rosie’s mama said with a tone reminiscent of her childhood. “You’re her stepmother. She’ll be with you for at least another sixteen years.”

Not with me, she won’t
.

“Better get used to the drill before another one comes along.”

Oh, God
. “I just meant he should know too.” She hadn’t meant any such thing, but it served as a good distraction for her mama’s alarming train of thought.

“You can fill him in after his phone call. I almost forgot. She felt a little warm earlier. You might keep an eye on her.”

“I will. Thanks for taking such good care of her.”

“Our pleasure, honey. It felt good to have a little girl in the house again.”

Rosie smiled in response, since apparently no other was needed. Her mama explained what they’d moved and where. Half-listening, Rosie’s gaze landed on Sam who was pacing on the wrap-around porch, phone pressed to his ear.

He nodded, a frown creasing his brow.
That
look she remembered well from his first few days here. He listened intently, giving short responses. The crease in his forehead deepened as he flipped the phone closed.

Her mama’s hand on her shoulder jerked her attention back into the room. “We left Sam’s office intact. Didn’t want to disturb his flow, but J.T. and Travis said they’d be glad to come back and help him move it when you’re ready.”

“That’s fine. He may want to continue working in there, where it’s quieter.”

“Won’t you be renting the apartment to someone else?”

“I don’t know, Mama. We haven’t talked about it.”

“I suppose now that you’re married to a famous novelist, you won’t need the extra income.” She raised a hand, palm out. “Don’t say it. Let me guess. You haven’t talked about it.”

“Well—”

“Please. No need explaining what you’ve been doing instead. I know what it’s like to be young and in love.”

Rosie wasn’t about to touch that comment.

* * *

A
fter her family left, Rosie and Sam put away the last few boxes of things brought over from Sam’s apartment. He didn’t seem disturbed with the change. She didn’t know how to feel about it. They had a friendship with fringe benefits because of the length of time they’d be together. It was convenient, nothing more. Combining their stuff, using the same bathroom and sharing a closet was all very intimate, very couple-like, very married.

Sam closed one of the drawers she’d hastily designated for his use, now full of boxer briefs and socks. “We should grab a few winks while Lorelei’s down. Neither one of us got much sleep last night.”

“Mama said she felt a little warm earlier and thought her two-year molars might be trying to cut through.”

“That explains the long nap.” Sam sat, removed his shoes and stretched. On an exhale, he linked his hands behind his head.

Rosie liked the picture of him there on her bed. A longing rushed to the surface, so intense she almost couldn’t breathe. She squeezed her eyes closed.
Don’t start. It’s not real. It’s not ever going to be real.

Sam’s low chuckle jolted her eyes open. “You’re supposed to rest lying down. Come here.” He patted her side of the bed. “I promise we’ll sleep.”

Despite the emotional turmoil inside her, Rosie fell asleep within minutes of her head touching the pillow. When she awoke, it was with a sense of alarm. Lorelei’s cries came from the hallway, accompanied by much deeper, soothing reassurances from Sam. Rosie glanced at her bedside clock radio. No wonder she was still tired. They’d only been asleep a half hour.

Their evening meal preparations revolved around Lorelei’s continued fussing, despite their best efforts to placate her. Even a topical pain reliever didn’t alleviate the pain in her swollen gums for long and she refused to eat. By bedtime, Sam opted to give her children’s acetaminophen.

Exhaustion sent them to her room—now their shared room—early. Not sure what she expected, it wasn’t for Sam to climb into bed after giving her a quick hug and a hasty “G’night.” He lay there a few minutes, staring at the ceiling.

“Is it weird for you, being here, having all your stuff moved again?” she asked.

“That must be it. I feel like I’m forgetting something, but it’s probably being in a new place.” With that conclusion, he was silent for a few seconds, then spoke again.

“You’re really good with Lorelei, much more patient than I am. Some days, like today when she was irritable, that’s the hardest thing to be with a child. When this is all over, you should settle down and have a few of your own.”

Rosie turned on her side, away from him, and clicked off her lamp, afraid he’d see the pain his words brought to the surface. “Is that what you plan to do?” She choked on the words. When had she become a glutton for punishment?

“Me? Hell, I don’t know. You think I should?”

“You’re a good dad, Sam. Lorelei couldn’t ask for better, but it’s your call whether or not you want more children.” She gripped the sheet to her chin, wishing he hadn’t broached this particular subject.

“Until Lorelei came along, I never thought of myself as daddy material. I guess my grandparents did an okay job with my dad, but he didn’t absorb much in the way of parenting skills. Take it from me, my folks should never have had a kid. If it weren’t for my grandparents, and summers here, I could have become a very insecure individual.

“With that legacy, and knowing next to nothing about babies, I thought I shouldn’t take the chance on ruining some poor kid’s life. Now? I guess it’s not beyond the realm of possibility.” Having reached that conclusion, he turned away from her and fell into a deep slumber.

At least he wasn’t snoring. She punched her pillow, irritated with herself for wishing he’d been a little more attentive. Hurting, because he’d unknowingly touched a sore spot and like an idiot, she’d pressed harder.

Sam hadn’t eliminated the possibility of having more children. If nothing else, that interesting tidbit should keep her traitorous heart in line.

* * *

S
am awoke with a start. He eased from the bed, only to discover it was empty. Had Rosie already gone to Lorelei? Was that what woke him?

A quick glance in his daughter’s room assured him she was sleeping soundly. He went looking for Rosie, unable to stem the surge of sexual interest he’d barely kept at bay earlier in the evening. Damn it, he didn’t want Rosie thinking he was insatiable, but she kept him hotter than an oil rig fire.

He found her at the small eat-in table, sipping an oversized mug of fragrant tea, the light over the stove providing illumination.

“What are you doing? Did Lorelei wake you?” he asked around a yawn, liking the look of silk and lace hugging her breasts.

“She was thirsty and a little warm, but I gave her another dose of the acetaminophen and a drink. She went right back to sleep.” Rosie drained her mug.

She caught him watching her, and he looked away. “Thanks for getting up with her. You don’t have to do that.”

“You were sleeping. I didn’t mind.”

“I’m usually the one that gets no sleep. We should try to rest. She’ll wake with enough energy for all of us.” Sam extended his hand, then stopped himself from reaching for her by grasping the wooden back of the nearest chair. “Are you coming back to bed?”

Her eyebrows arched. “It depends,” she said in a throaty voice, letting her gaze drift lazily over him. “Is there a reason I should?”

Man, it was hard to breathe with smoldering desire showing in her gaze like that. Sam drew her to her feet, “I thought you might be a little sore after last night. I was trying to give you time to recover.”

“I’m fine.” Rosie leaned toward him, draping her arms around his neck. Her silk-clad breasts brushed against his chest, enflaming his very interested body.

“I’ll say you are.” Sam raised her chin with his fingertips and captured her mouth. He couldn’t remember having this level of chemistry with a woman before.

Rosie moaned as he deepened the kiss. With her body plastered to his, rational thought fled. She rimmed his ear with the tip of her tongue and feasted on his earlobe before working her way along the sensitive line of his neck. He gladly gave himself to the maelstrom of sensations and breathed in her scent—soft and feminine. Somehow, the light fragrance she wore mingled with what was intrinsically Rosie and raised it to an intensely arousing level.

He sensed no reservation in the hands whispering over his upper body, stroking and memorizing every plane and hollow. Wanting her echoing his growing need, he drew back and stroked her breasts through her gown, lightly pinching and rolling the distended nipples until she gasped and pressed closer.

Reaching under her short nightgown, he tugged at tiny scraps of lace with a goal of access rather than removal. He lavished more attention on her breasts as she pushed at his pajama pants and wrapped her hand around his hard length.

Do you think it will always be like this with us?
He poured the unspoken question into a kiss. It held insinuations of a long-term relationship, and he’d promised to let her go. He’d promised.

When he couldn’t stand another minute of the sweet torture, his legs touched a chair. He plunked his butt into it. Rosie stepped out of her skimpy panties and straddled him, her hair messy and sexy as hell.

He tugged her forward, their gazes locking.