Run Rosie Run (3 page)

‘You are.’

For a couple of heartbeats Alexander thought she was deadly serious.

Big eyes the colour of melted treacle stared into his and he had the weirdest sensation of drowning.

Was that a flash of something like... desire?

But then it was gone. Probably his imagination he told himself.

Thick Bambi lashes blinked once, twice and then she grinned at him, her mood changing in a flash.

‘Gotcha!’

Her mouth was wide with a sexy full bottom lip. He’d noticed that bottom lip many times before and did his level best to ignore it now, but his mouth watered.

Her hair was hidden under a white chef’s bandana in pristine cotton. He knew those glossy curls, the colour of jet, usually tumbled around her shoulders, down her back, and he fought the urge to release them from confinement. Her face was flushed. Those high cheekbones covered in smooth skin made his fingers itch to touch to see if it was as soft as it looked.

Running a hand over the back of his neck, his jaw, he had the peculiar feeling of stepping into a mine field.

The idea that she was upset even angry with him still tickled his gut. But he decided to leave it for the moment.

The thing about Rosie was she could be temperamental and she tended to take the odd shot at him for no apparent reason.

However, she never held a grudge and whatever he’d done she’d tell him, eventually.

‘Funny. Talking of babies, Julie’s due to return from maternity leave next week and I wondered if you could make her a cake. You know, a sort of welcome back to work cake,’ he explained.

Those dark eyes sparkled into his now and he found he didn’t know what to do with his hands, so he stood and thrust them into his trouser pockets.

‘Aww, that’s a lovely idea,’ she said in a tone so filled with longing it had him study her carefully and wonder what the hell her mother had said. On the whole Rosie’s relationship with her parents was close, but there were times when she and her opinionated mother clashed.

He watched her as she rose, crossed to the counter and flipped open a big black diary. She’d always had a curvy but tight little body. Had she lost weight? And she looked stressed, tired. Working too hard?

Picking up a pen Rosie turned to him with big eyes.

‘When do you want it?’

‘Ah, Thursday if you can manage it.’

Gorgeous eyebrows the colour of coal winged into her hairline as she scanned the busy pages.

‘Thursday?’ Those fabulous eyes turned to him in amazement and she articulated each word very slowly as if talking to an idiot, ‘Are you having a laugh?’

Chewing on his top lip he winced as she jabbed the page with her forefinger.

He leaned over her shoulder, scanned the pages. She ran the business with military precision and by the look of things she’d been up since five-thirty this morning. The scent of sugar, vanilla and warm, sexy woman tantalised his senses and he took a deep inhale.

And realised he was sniffing her hair. What the hell was the matter with him?

He cleared his throat.

‘Ah, I should have let you know sooner, but the idea came to me today. Sorry. Look, I’ll pop into town and pick up one at the supermarket or go into the bakery. No problem.’

Now those dark eyes narrowed as they looked up into his face.

That soft mouth pouted even as the stubborn chin lifted.

Oh crap.

‘That’s what you think, pal.’ She poked him hard in the chest once, twice. ‘It’s a good job for you I love and adore your PA or I’d let you embarrass yourself. Buying a supermarket cake is like buying wilting flowers from a petrol station instead of taking the time to go to a florist.’

Those nails were sharp so he grabbed her hand and decided he couldn’t do anything right with her today. And tried to ignore the light floral scent of her hair.

‘It’s the thought that counts.’

Her dark eyes went icy as she tipped her head back to look up into his face.

‘Then the thought’s stingy. It doesn’t scream ‘I value you’ does it?’

He couldn’t take his eyes from her mouth.

That pouting bottom lip mesmerised, fascinated him and his pulse and his groin gave a sharp jolt. Two things hit him. Her skin was soft, flawless and she smelt fucking amazing. All warm woman, sweet and fresh with a sexy kick.

Alarm dinged in his brain. This was Rosie. She was like a sister to him. His thoughts, his physical response, were totally inappropriate. She’d deck him if he made a move and rightly so.

He dropped her hand and took a shaky step back.

Attack Alexander always figured was the best form of defence.

So he glowered at her and ran a hand through his hair.

‘I can’t win with you, can I?’

Her fists on her hips pulled her pristine chef jacket tight across her pert breasts and his mouth felt as if it was filled with sand.

Those dark eyes flashed. ‘Nope. Good thing we always carry emergency stock isn’t it? I’m a girl. I plan ahead. You should try it sometime. It’ll be ready for you on Thursday afternoon after five-thirty.’

‘That’s good, five-thirty’s good. Thanks, Rosie, I owe you one.’

His gaze caught the local newspaper and he couldn’t help but grin.

‘Why are you reading the lonely hearts column. Looking for lurve?

When Rosie caught his grin her temper, a hard knot in her belly, settled into a steady simmer.

‘Because I want to, because I’m interested in the human condition and because I feel like it. What’s it got to do with you?’

Alexander made the fatal mistake of smirking.

‘Somebody got out of the wrong side of the bed this morning.’

She’d no idea where the thought came from as the words poured out of her mouth.

‘Maybe I’m tired after a night of hot monkey sex with a hot guy.’

After a stunned silence, he blinked.

‘Then he didn’t do it right. After a night of hot monkey sex with me a woman’s all soft and mellow, not all cranky and bitchy.’

She’d walked right into that one, hadn’t she?

‘God, you’re an arrogant bastard.’

‘And you’re a moody little witch, but I still like you.’

‘Well I don’t like you.’

Rosie turned to open a cupboard and took down a mug for his coffee.

She poured, handed him the mug and noticed he was frowning now.

‘Why are you angry with me?’ he wanted to know.

‘I’m not. I’m irritated.’

He took a sip of coffee and thought for a moment.

‘Okay. Why are you irritated?’

This had been coming for a long time and Rosie decided now was the time to lance the boil.

‘Lock the door, Rosie. Why are you reading the lonely hearts column, Rosie. You’re not getting laid properly, Rosie. See a pattern emerging?’

Green eyes went dark as he stared at her. ‘What, you’re annoyed because I look out for you? Christ Jesus, Rosie.’

‘Don’t you swear at me, Mr Smart mouth. You’re not my father, my brother or my keeper. Butt out of
my
business.’

‘I don’t want to be your keeper!’

‘Don’t you
dare
raise your voice to me. Let me make it clear. I’m not your sister, your angel face or your responsibility. I’m free, single and I’m an adult. I can do what I want, when I want, with whomever I want without the permission of the great Alexander frigging Ludlow.’

He blinked. ‘What is
wrong
with you? Pre-menstrual tension?’

Her jaw dropped.

How could she possibly even dream of being in love with such a big jerk?

Rosie shook her head. ‘I think it’s time for you to leave.’ And don’t come back she wanted to add but didn’t.

What the hell had he done?

She was annoyed because he cared about her?

Normally he’d give her a peck on the cheek or lean in for a hug. Not today he wouldn’t, so Alexander retreated instead. And coffee? Fuck coffee.

She wanted him gone? Fine.

As he opened the door, he turned to find her still standing there with a strange look in her eyes. She looked sad. No, bereft. The insane urge to go back, to take her in his arms, shook him up enough to make him frown at her, made his voice hard.

‘Don’t forget to lock-up behind me,’ he ordered.

‘Okay, papa,’ she said in a tone that put his back up even further.

Little witch.

‘Don’t push your luck, angel face.’

As Alexander turned on the engine, he sent her a wave.

She was still staring at him with those big eyes, but something else was going on with her. Perhaps he should have dug deeper? Maybe she was having man trouble in spite of hot monkey sex? He didn’t believe that for a moment since he hadn’t heard of anyone sniffing around Rosie. And living in a small town, he’d have heard. When it came to Rosie, he kept his ear pretty close to the ground.

He’d speak to Bronte.

If anyone knew what was going on with Rosie it would be his sister.

Rosie told her everything.

Alexander parked at the back of The Dower House next to a couple of SUV’s.

Each vehicle was equipped with state-of-the-art child seats. Fourteen month old twins, Luca and Sophia Ferranti ruled this particular roost.

Things had certainly changed in The Dower House.

Nico had added an oak and glass extension, housing his office, gymnasium and indoor swimming pool. But pride of place was a play area filled with smooth oak climbing frames, ropes, slides and swings with a fort at either end.

His brother-in-law was having a blast. He got as much pleasure from playing with the equipment as the kids did themselves.

But what really gave Alexander a warm, fuzzy feeling was how happy his sister and Nico were together. He might have had his doubts in the beginning, but each brought something special to the other. It was great to see and as a couple they were inclusive to their family and friends. The door was always open at The Dower House.

Strolling through the rear entrance hall, he removed his tie, rolled it up and stuck it in his pocket before shrugging off his jacket. Painful experience had taught him the damage sticky little fingers did to pure silk.

He opened the top buttons of his shirt as he entered the open-plan living kitchen to find Bronte pecking away on her laptop.

Dumping his jacket over a dining chair of plum leather, he turned to his sister.

Wearing black skinny jeans, ballet pumps of pale grey and a matching vest, Bronte looked fabulous, lightly tanned and slim. And he was forcibly reminded of their late mother. At the moment all her attention was on a picture of one of the most amazing wedding cakes he’d ever seen. And he’d seen plenty since his sister had started her business with Rosie.

‘That looks phenomenal. One of yours?’ He hugged her and she leaned in to return the squeeze before giving him a bland look.

‘Unfortunately not. It’s by The Celebration Cake Company. They came first in the competition. We came third. I’m just uploading these to the website.’

As a show of sibling commiseration he gave her silver ponytail a gentle tug.

‘Better luck next year.’ He cocked his head to listen. ‘Where are the spawn?’

Bronte rose, moved to an enormous fridge and dug out a beer.

She handed it to him and said in a cool voice,

‘What a charming way to describe your niece and nephew.’ As he unscrewed the cap, she poured herself a glass of white wine and returned his grin. ‘It’s papa’s turn to brave the mayhem that is bath time.’

Alexander clinked the bottle to her glass.

‘He gets a real buzz from it.’

‘I know. Who’d have thought the man who ‘didn’t do marriage or children’ would be a natural? Can you stay for dinner? We’re having steaks, baked potato and salad.’

Never one to refuse the offer of a free meal, he nodded.

‘Sure.’

Bronte cocked her head.

‘I hear the pitter patter of tiny feet.’ And gave her brother an energetic punch on the shoulder. ‘Brace yourself.’

Sure enough the chatter of high childish voices mingled with the deep baritone of her husband.

One high voice was whiney. Luca was recovering from a summer cold. Although the firstborn and biggest at birth, he seemed to pick up every bug that went around and Bronte kept a close eye on her son. They’d had him thoroughly checked out, but the medics couldn’t find anything wrong, it was just one of those things. Sophia on the other hand was a human dynamo who didn’t need much sleep, was never sick and ran rings around her brother.

Nico strolled in with Luca tucked on his hip.

How could she be married to the man for over two years and still find jeans and a white T-shirt terribly sexy?

Her son’s glossy curls were damp, his cheeks rosy and he was ready for bed in his pj’s. Big green eyes blinked like a tired owl as he sucked on his thumb while his other hand fisted in his father’s hair.

Dancing on her tip toes, Sophia clung to her father’s hand, eyes bright and dark like a little bird’s darted around the room. Her white blonde hair a shining halo in the sun that beamed through the French doors.

Watching her little family, Bronte yet again felt overwhelmed and humbled. The emotions hit her at odd times. No one could have told her how it would feel to see her husband and her children together. How she wished her parents had lived to see them.

Then the kids spotted her brother.

Luca spat out his thumb, beamed a big smile and launched himself into his uncle’s arms. While Sophia did her level best to shimmy up Alexander’s leg.

Alexander buried his face in her son’s soft neck and blew a loud raspberry which sent Luca squirming in delirious delight. He handed him over to Bronte as Sophia demanded his attention. He gathered her in his arms, tossed her in the air, caught her then pressed another raspberry to her soft belly.

‘Hey, how’s my favourite girl?’

His favourite girl chattered something unintelligible, patted his cheeks with chubby hands and pressed a wet kiss on his mouth.

‘We will have trouble with her. She likes the boys,’ Nico told him as he gave his wife a long leisurely kiss even as a hand snuck down to caress her bottom.