Taming Tess (The St. John Sibling Series) (19 page)

Dixie chuckled. "Dear practical Roman. Love isn't all about facts. "

Roman sighed.

"Sounds like
you two need to do some talking," Dixie said.

"I don't even know if she wants kids and you know how important family is to me.
" He frowned. "I think I'm afraid to find out."

Dixie placed a hand on Roman's arm. "I
doubt you have as much to worry about as you think. When I came up behind her, caught her watching you and Ben through the screen door, I saw a woman full of longing."

#

They stood on the porch waving good-bye to Dixie and Ben as Dixie backed out of Roman's driveway.

"You're a natural with Ben," Roman said.

"Surprised?" Tess asked without looking at him.

"Yes and no. You went all motherly on that injured dog."

Dixie's vehicle trundled off into the sunset and Tess faced Roman. "He was helpless."

"Yeah," Roman said, leaning a shoulder against a porch support. "And those girls who came selling chocolate bars at The Castle, why'd you buy every piece of candy they had? They weren't helpless."

She hitched herself up onto the railing. "I'm always happy to encourage female entrepreneurs."

"And here I just bought their candy because they were cute?"

Tess leveled on him a chastening look. "Girls should never rely on their looks for gain. I bought what I did because they had a good sales pitch."

"Sure," he said, not even trying to hide his amusement.
"And the reason for your charm around little boys?"

She gave him a crooked smile. "They grow up to be handsome big boys."

He snickered. She shrugged. "I'm not without some experience around children. I have nieces and nephews."

"So you have siblings," Roman said, his interest heightening.

Her smile slipped and she swung her legs over the railing so she sat facing away from the house, breaking eye contact. "Two older sisters."

"Are you close with them?" he asked, figuring he already knew the answer, his own grin fading.

"They followed our father's life-plan for daughters. Though neither of them married an architect into the family to partner in the family business."

The daddy issue makes a return appearance.
"Was that supposed to be your job?"

She stared off into the darkening woods. "It seems so."

"But you didn't do it."

"I almost did."

"What happened?"

The near corner of her mouth flattened. "I realized Harry was a parasite before it was too late."

The muscles across Roman's shoulders tensed. He wanted to go to her, take her in his arms as he had the night she'd confessed about the boy who'd left her to drown. But he held back. "What'd he do?"

"Passed off one of my designs
as his own," she said through tight lips.

"Your father must have gone ballistic when you told him."

A muscle popped at the hinge of her jaw. "The design won the firm a major low income housing contract from the government."

"Your father must have been very proud of you," he said even though
a sheen of moisture in her eyes warned him otherwise.

"The only thing my father commended me
on was backing my man by supplying him with the plan. He said Harry was the salesman who sold the project to the government, that no one was going to take me seriously. He said it was a woman's place to support her man."

"That doesn't sound right."

"It wasn't," she said, blinking and turning her face away. "That's why I left the family firm and my father."

And came to the Upper Peninsula of Michigan to start her career over,
he thought.

"He wouldn't even have that firm if it wasn't for my mother's family money," she went on, blankly staring toward the road in front of the house.

Roman frowned, but said nothing. He knew when to let a woman talk.

"
When they married, my mother handed over everything she had to him. He's never even given her credit for setting him up in business. Then he had the gall to blame her for not giving him a son." A tear slid down her cheek.

Roman straightened from the porch upright, went to her, and placed his hands on her shoulders.

She swiped the tear away. "Don't you dare feel sorry for me St. John."

"I'm not," he said, massaging her knotted muscles. "Just giving you some of the TLC you deserve."

She leaned back against him. "You're a good man, Roman St. John. The kind a woman can lean on."

"That's how a man should be with the woman he cares about." He felt the hitch in her breathing through his hands on her shoulders. He wanted her to say she cared about him, too. He wanted to know if she saw a future between them that went beyond the bedroom.

"Enough talk about my dysfunctional family," she said, turning beneath his hands, forcing him to release her. "You've got a family of rather diverse interests and Ben seems to know every one of his uncles quite well in spite of how spread out you all are."

So she wasn't ready to commit.

"We keep close however we can," he said. "Phoning, emailing, texting."

She put her back to the porch upright and drew a leg up onto the railing. "What's Dixie's story? How'd a woman who can cook a five star
Chicken Marsala wind up selling food out of a farm house?"

"She's always wanted to run a little restaurant. Was a natural in the kitchen, so she went to school for restaurant management."

"And set up shop in a farm house?"

A breeze rifled through Tess' loose locks, his fingers itching to do likewise. But he knew now was not the time. Instead, he leaned into the post Tess sat against.
"Eventually."

Tess peered over her shoulder at him. "There's a world of innuendo in that word. What's missing?"

He met her gaze, looked her deep in the eye, willing her not to take what he was about to say the wrong way. "She fell in love and married before she could set her dream in motion."

Tess shook her head. "Love ruins the best laid plans."

He frowned. "It doesn't have to."

"Says the guy whose family keeps in touch via phone, email, and texting."

"Actually, the guy she married was able to fast track her dream. He came from money. He adored her. So he bought her a restaurant."

She tipped her head back a
gainst the post. "Why doesn't that sound like a happily ever after?"

"The short of it is
, Michael died in a car accident last December."

Tess dropped her foot to the porch floor and looked up at him. "I'm so sorry."

"On top of that, the restaurant never really caught on and Mike's father fought Dixie for custody of Ben."

"That's awful."

"She spent just about everything she had fighting to keep Ben, losing the restaurant in the battle."

Tess stood and paced to the end of the porch, shaking her head. "She's so upbeat, so bubbly. I'd never guess she'd been through so much."

"Dixie is the eternal optimist. Give her lemons…"

"And she'll make lemonade."

He smiled, liking that she could finish his sentences. "You got it."

"How'd she wind up turning a farm house into a restaurant?"

He strode the distance between them, stopped at her side facing the woods. "Our grandmother was widowed and in failing health. She needed live-in help."

"So, good hearted Dixie volunteered."

"It was a mutually beneficial arrangement. Gran got the live-in help she needed. Dixie and Ben got a roof over their heads. Gran was already selling ice cream, baked goods, and preserves from the front parlor. Dixie expanded into the dining room and back parlor and now serves breakfast and lunch five days a week."

She smiled slyly up at him.
"From a restaurant quality kitchen built by you."

"All
us brothers got together a few months ago to build the kitchen and partition the private quarters from the public. How'd you know I was even involved in that addition?"

"You should password protect your computer."

"I've got nothing to hide."

Her smile faded. "So it seems. You've been pretty clear about what you want out of life all along.
A family."

His chest tightened. This was as direct as she'd ever gotten with a topic that could include them both. Dared he hope?

He drew a deep breath and ventured, "I want what my parents had.  How about you, Tess? Isn't there anything you want outside a career?"

She dropped her chin, her hair curtaining her face from his scrutiny. "I've been focused on becoming a topnotch architect for so long--fought for it so long, I haven't given any thought to what else I might want."

He placed a hand on her shoulder. She stiffened.

"All this fresh air has worn me out," she said. "I think I'll hit the sack early tonight."

With that she turned, gave him a light kiss on the lips, and headed into the house. He watched her through the screen door walk past his bedroom and climb the steps. He thought about following her into the house, up the steps, and into her bed. But he'd gotten the message in her kiss, in how abruptly she'd ended their conversation. Tess Abbott had some things to think through and a wise man would give her the time and space to do just that.

CHAPTER TWELVE

Roman trotted up the front steps of The Castle. His sister was right. He and Tess needed to talk.
The necessary conversation had only just started last evening after Dixie and Ben had left. Then Tess had left before he got up this morning and he'd been stuck all morning at his job site.

He climbed
The Castle stairs to the second floor master bedroom where he found Tess bent over a sooty packing carton, her delectable backside waving in the air. It was almost enough to make him forget about any discussion. He gave a low whistle of appreciation that brought her upright and facing him.

Soot smudged her brow and dotted her chin. She'd be horrified if she could see herself. He thought she looked adorable
and couldn't help tease her. Nodding at the box, he asked, "Did you take that from the attic?"

"It's one of the few that survived."

"And you removed it from an attic we aren't even supposed to go into," he said with mock authority.

"And haven't you taken enough time off work to help me already?" she said, straightening, a twinkle in her eye.

"Even the boss gets a lunch hour," he replied, leaning into the doorframe, thoroughly enjoying the view.

She raised her eyebrows at him. "And you came here thinking I'd feed you?"

He produced an exaggerated mock shiver. "Not unless Mrs. Antonetti has sent over something."

She snatched a pillow off the bed and flung it at him. He boxed it aside with one hand.

"I've got a better idea," she said, s
miling devilishly. She strode up to him, caught him by the belt buckle, and drew him toward the bed. "How much time do you have?"

"I'm the boss
. I have as much time as I need," he said, giving in to his libido. They could talk tonight.

"Shouldn't the boss set a good example?" she
teased, deftly unbuckling his belt.

He laughed and caught her up in his arms and kissed her hard. They were like teenagers, tearing at each other's clothes, not bothering to remove anything more than what was necessary to allow them access to the most intimate parts of each other's bodies. When he reached up to remove his hard hat, she murmured against his ear, "Leave it on."

They started on the bed amidst the piles of bedding just back from the cleaners. But soon found themselves dumped on the floor between the bed and the wall, tangled in a quilt and each other's limbs.

They laughed and teased each other to delicious heights, Roman with his pants snagged around his ankles and the yellow hard hat askew atop his head. Tess beneath him with her soot smudged face and--

A throaty cough cut through the room. Roman rose onto his knees and peered across the mounded bed to find a barrel-chested man in a hard hat all but filling the bedroom doorway. Every protective nerve in his body went on alert and he demanded, "Who the hell are you?"

"I'm the Fire Marshal," the big man returned. "Who the hell are you?"

"Ooops," Tess said. "Did I forget to tell you the Fire Marshal called this morning to tell me he'd be coming by this afternoon?"

Roman's confrontational sneer crumpled and an expression of abject wretchedness replaced it. He looked every bit the hormone charged teenager caught in the back seat of a car with his pants down. Tess' laughter started in her diaphragm, jerky spasms of it that butted her body against Roman's.

He hissed for her to be silent and introduced himself to the Fire Marshall…without standing or emerging from behind the bed of course. "Roman St. John. I'm the contractor."

She couldn't see the man who'd interrupted them, but his voice boomed through the room. "I'll be on the third floor checking out the fire area." Then, in a less brusque tone the Fire Marshal added, "Good to see you're using protection."

Roman blanched and the Fire Marshall added a droll, "I was referring to the hard hat."

Laughter burst from Tess. Roman stuffed the edge of the quilt in her face…which only provoked her to higher levels of mirth.

When the Fire Marshall was out of sight, Roman lifted the quilt from Tess' face and frowned at her. "I was trying to protect your reputation."

She shifted beneath him, her body racked with a new wave of laughter.
"
My
reputation?"

His frown twisted into a scowl. "Yes.
Your reputation. Your virtue."

"Virtue?"
She snorted. "I think my virtue was compromised a long time ago." If he'd had his belt in its proper place, she'd have grabbed him by that. She grabbed the next most prominent thing sticking out.

Roman buckled over her, croaking out, "You've got a Fire Marshal in your attic."

She nibbled at his lips, murmuring, "But one contractor in my bedroom trumps ten Fire Marshals in the attic."

"He could come back," Roman managed between kisses and tugging at his pants.

"What's the matter, St. John? You not into the excitement of getting caught?" She stroked him, eliciting a groan.

"One thrill a day is enough for me."

"One a day is enough, huh? Since when?"

"I'm talking about getting caught."

"You weren't concerned about getting caught the night the dog showed up on our doorstep," she purred, wrapping her fingers around him.

He jerked and sank back on his heels. "If you don't knock it off, I'll tell everyone you have a hard hat fetish."

"While you're at it--" She curled into a sitting position and hooked her fingers through his belt loops. "--Tell them I like tool belts on a man, too, tool laden and slung low on the hips."

He slapped her hands away, pulled his jeans up all the way this time and snapped them shut.

"Yep," she said, rising to her knees and unsnapping him as he zipped up.

He caught her by the wrists and held her hands out of reach of his pants. "Don't you think the Fire Marshal got a good enough look at us the first time he caught us?"

"He didn't see anything."

"He saw enough to know what we were doing."

"We are two consenting adults. We weren't doing anything illegal."

"I'm just not into showing my woman to the world rolling around bedroom floors, half undressed, playing out sex fantasies with a man in a hard hat."

She raised an eyebrow at Roman. "Your woman?"

Roman forced a hopeful smile
. "Yeah. My woman. What do you say to that?"

What should
she say? Don't start getting all possessive with me? Or, yes, make me yours? Which did she want?

His thumbs stroked the pulse points of her wrists, sending delicious ripples up her arms, down through her chest, straight to her--

"Don't you want me looking out for your virtue, Princess?"

"That sounds like the sort of thing a man would do for the mother of his children," she murmured, swaying in time with those sweeping thumbs. She was in heaven and she wanted
never to leave.

His brilliant blue eyes gl
eamed. "Would you like to be the mother of my children, Tess?"

Tess went still.
Children? His? Was he proposing?

He gave a tight chuckle. "Hey, Princess, quit with the panicked look. You're the one who brought
kids up."

She was. She had.
Sounds like the sort of thing a man would do for the mother of his children
.

So, did she…want to be the mother of his children?

Though the grin fixed on Roman's lips, his thumbs had gone still on her wrists. She looked into his eyes, those brook blue eyes that asked the question in earnest even as he said, "Forget it."

She could see he wanted to know the answer to that question, even as he released her wrists and climbed to his feet. He was too much a family man not to want--to need to know.

Most of all, Roman deserved to know her answer.

He finished fastening his pants and turned toward the hall, muttering, "The Fire Marshal is waiting."

"What if our daughter wanted to be an architect when she grew up?" she called after him.

He stopped, faced her, his head canted to one side as though he wasn't sure he'd heard her right.
"
Our
daughter?"

"Or a doctor, lawyer…mud wrestler?"

A grin tugged at his lips. "I'd expect nothing less of any daughter of yours, Princess."

"And sons, of course," she went on, "would have to have their father's blue eyes."

He advanced on her and took her in his arms. "Son
s
, as in plural?" he said softly. "You don't want to stop at just one of each?"

"I thought you wanted a big family, St. John."

"I do. But I didn't know what you wanted."

"Shut up and kiss me, St. John, before I change my mind."

He pulled her close and kissed her. He kissed her long and hard and deep. And when he finished kissing her, he hugged her close and whispered in her ear, "A mud wrestler?"

Tess levered herself back in his arms and gave him a mock serious look, "If a daughter of mine can't be a mud wrestler if she wants, it's a deal breaker."

He threw his head back and laughed. "Princess, if any daughter of ours wants to be a mud wrestler, I'll get her the finest grit mud to be had in the state of Michigan."

Then he kissed her again, a sweet parting peck on the lips. "I'll go occupy our Fire Marshal while you get yourself straightened up."

Not wanting to be apart from him, she tugged the hem of the t-shirt down over her hips and said, "There. I'm straightened up."

He rubbed her chin with the pad of his thumb. "Make that cleaned up, too. Much as I find your theatrical make-up adorable--"

"Theatrical make-up?" Her hands flew to her face. "Why didn't you tell me sooner?"

"What, and ruin a great spontaneous moment?" he asked, tapping her on the tip of her nose with a bent knuckle.

She swiped his hand away and wrinkled her nose at him. "Go entertain the Fire Marshal."

#

In the bathroom, Tess looked at herself in the mirror and laughed. There'd been a time she wouldn't have been able to laugh at herself. But Roman made her feel good about everything, even a soot smudged nose and chin.

She dampened a washcloth and began scrubbing her face. She wanted to make Roman feel good in return. No more hiding behind the shrew. What a fool she'd been.

Been? Or was?

She stopped scrubbing and stared at herself in the mirror above the vanity, watching her grin fade away. Was she being a fool? Had she fallen into the trap of love? Is that why she'd tested Roman's idea of kids as she had?

She dropped the washcloth and looked herself in her mirrored eye. The mere mention of children should have sent her screaming.

Wrong
, said the brown eyes looking back at her.
You've always liked kids.

"Other
people's."

Explain that feeling you get in the pit of your stomach whenever you hold a baby
.

"But I want a career."

You can have a career and babies.

"But, to get married is to prove my father right."

A woman doesn't have to marry to have babies
.

True. She didn't have to marry. But Roman St. John would never settle for fathering a child without being married to said child's mother. Not that diehard family man.

And you?
asked the brown eyes in the mirror.

Until she'd finally gotten the message about the extent of her father's antiquated chauvinism, marriage and children had been part of her life's equation. Her fingers curled into the hem of her t-shirt, the t-shirt Roman had given her to wear the first night she'd invaded his home. She'd clung to Roman's shirt as a way to be close to him.

Roman, whom she'd trusted enough to confess her deepest, darkest fears. Roman, to whom she'd made love, and he to her. Roman, with whom she'd discussed children, that ultimate element that would bind them forever together…because she did want to have his children.

And to spite her father, she was considering denying herself the love of her life? Was she nuts?

#

Tess raced up the attic stairs.
She could hear the Fire Marshal talking, but she wasn't listening to what he was saying. She had one thing and only one thing on her mind. Find Roman and tell him she loved him.

Her head cleared the stairwell.
She could see Roman's back. The Fire Marshal was facing him and both had their heads bowed as though they looked at something between them.

She cleared the last step and Roman turned toward her, concern creasing his brow for an instant before
a smile smoothed it away. It wasn't quite as bright or as broad a smile as he'd left her with in the bedroom. She wanted to make that smile bright again. She wanted Roman to take her in his arms and kiss her senseless. She headed toward him.