A Loving Man (9 page)

Stefan made a growling noise and seemed to shiver. He closed his eyes, groaned and pushed himself upright. He glanced at her, then ran his fingers through his hair. “I promised myself this wouldn’t happen. But one look at you and—”

He stared grimly out of the window as if he couldn’t bear to look at her. “It’s true, then, just like Estelle says. I do not know how to play or to romance. All I want is to be in you, against you, breathing the air you breathe, holding you tight. I sense that if we made love, I would only want you more.”

Rose tried to catch her breath. Stefan seemed so vulnerable, so frustrated, and her senses told her to comfort him. She had always been very good at comforting men. She patted his bare, taut shoulder. “You’re worried about performing, aren’t you? About that too-soon release? You said you hadn’t loved anyone since your wife and people say that men lose their edge when they don’t keep in practice. It’s like any other sport, I suppose. Practice counts.”

He glared darkly at her. His words were stiff and grim. “I would hope that I do not have that ‘too-soon’ problem, and I do not wish to discuss it with you.”

She buttoned her blouse and briskly patted his knee. “Well, then. We have other things to discuss, don’t we? Before I leave? Like exactly how are we going to deal with the gossip about us? And another thing, I don’t like having to run you down to have a conversation about setting the rules between us. Your mother didn’t know when you’d be back and she suggested it could be months.
I will
not owe you for all that time.
I had to close the store for one whole day to make this trip. I’m going to probably make mistakes on the cash register tomorrow because I’ll be tired. Dad and the other men in town are too busy riding their bicycles with your mother. So let’s just clean up all the muck and I’ll be on my way.”

Stefan’s large hand encircled her wrist. “You’re not going anywhere. Do you think I like this…this lack of control with you? With you, it is natural to love. With me, it is difficult to show those feelings and yet, when I see you—touch you—”

“Well,” Rose said, trying to help Stefan deal with his emotions, “there are some people who are talkers, and there are others who show their feelings by actions—take for example, how you moved your life to Waterville, to keep your mother and daughter happy.”

She patted his knee again. “You’re a man of action, Stefan, and that might be more important than words. You express yourself in cooking, putting all those tender little touches to the basil leaves and the patés. I’m a fried chicken and potato salad girl and sugar-in-iced-tea myself, but I see how much of yourself you invest in cooking and the presentation. There’s always that little flourish, as if you can’t resist leaving your work.”

“Always so kind,” he murmured darkly as he studied her hand on his knee, taking it into his own and placing it over his heart.

The hard beat jarred Rose, traveled straight up her arm and into her body. She stared at him, her senses humming, echoing the heat between them. “Come up to my apartment, Rose,” he whispered unevenly. “We can discuss all this there.”

“Just us?”

He brought her hand up to his lips and sucked her fingers gently. Over their hands, his eyes were dark and soft and warm. “Just us,” he repeated huskily.

S
tefan watched Rose roam through the modern apartment living room, used for private meetings. He stayed in the corporate building, rather than reopen the Donatien home, because he had every intention of returning to Waterville as soon as his business was finished. In the short time he’d been there, he’d never known such peace, and then there was Rose.

She softened the apartment’s sterile decor, her shoulder-length hair catching reddish lights from the sunlight passing through the ceiling-high windows. Always in motion, she touched the sprawling leather couch, skimming her hand over the smooth surface. Everything about her was feminine and graceful and soft. She took in the chrome-framed abstract paintings, and studied the gleaming ultra-modern kitchen. Rose glanced at her wristwatch. “Let’s get this over with. I’ve got a plane to catch and just enough time to tell you off.
Do not come near me with those lips.
”

His lips still tasted of her, his body hardened and ached to hold her long, lithe one close. She’d taken the bait and had come to him. Now he was angry with himself for trying to control her and their relationship. He’d been selfish in his needs, and he didn’t like that image of himself; he usually placed his needs after his family’s and the business’s. “You look tired. Would you like to have a nap before dinner?”

She shook her head. “You’re very busy. I won’t keep you. And you don’t look so hot yourself.”

“I have had difficulty sleeping. I missed you. I need you in my bed.” He regretted rapping out his emotions as though they were corporate plans. His uncertainty weighed heavily upon him, while his senses told him to go to her, hold her and tell her more gently of the rigid man losing control. Stefan closed his eyes momentarily—
he was feeling delicate, a man awash with frustration, desire and much softer emotions.

For just a heartbeat, Rose met his intent gaze and then looked away to the city below, a blush quickly rising on her cheeks. “This won’t do, Stefan. You can’t just tell me things like that.”

Of course not. I should have—
But in the land of uncertainty, Stefan opted for a direct approach. He had to tell her what he’d done without her leave, and take the consequences. Avenging his lady love’s honor was important. “Then you tell me. My daughter tells me that when you were little, you believed in faeries and elves. Think of me as a large elf, happy in my work. But then your ex-fiancés were there, too, weren’t they? And the sheriff. Did you offer to pay them?”

“No.” Rose turned to him. “Henry and Larry always help. And I help them. That’s the way it works. I baby-sit for the sheriff sometimes when he wants a romantic eve
ning with his wife. Most people won’t baby-sit for them because their children are pretty inventive. They once handcuffed Mrs. O’Reilly to a rocking chair while she slept…and you’re too big to be an elf.”

Stefan took off his suit jacket, placed it over a chair and slid off his tie. He flipped open the top buttons of his shirt and watched Rose. He had to tell her. He took an envelope from the table. “This is for you. It’s the money you paid Mike to start his business.”

Rose blinked and stared blankly at him. “What?”

“He asked you for money and you gave it to him. Now he has returned it to you.”

Rose sat slowly onto a chair. She gripped her large black tote tightly. “You saw Mike? Why?”

Once Stefan understood the basics of the encroaching restaurant company, he’d taken a day to deal with Mike. The image of a big man in the greasy, cluttered Ohio garage lined with girlie pictures swept by Stefan. Mike was blond, less than intelligent and far too sure of himself. “I thought it was best to have a discussion with him.”

“You just went out and found him?
Just like that?
”

Her disbelieving tone deepened Stefan’s guilt. He was uncomfortable in relationships and Rose was definitely volatile. He lacked experience in pacifying a woman like Rose. He wanted to sweep her into his arms and take his fill—also, he wanted her to take her fill, as in equal opportunity. He ran his hand through his hair and realized that facing Rose was much more daunting than facing a horde of argumentative business associates. “I merely visited him. A research agency found him—”

“You hired a private detective?”

Off balance and uncertain now as her eyebrows raised and she placed aside the tote, Stefan nodded grimly. Rose stood and walked across the lush silver carpet to him. She
kicked off her shoes and looked up at him. “I said ‘why?”’

Stefan looked down at the feminine fist clutching the front of his shirt. He had other intentions for the evening, and at the moment, the path looked rocky. He wasn’t backing up— “We had a discussion. He agreed that he had made certain bets about you. He took money from you. I thought your honor needed defending—”

Rose’s other fist latched on to Stefan’s shirt. She scowled up at him. “I gave him that money to get him out of town. You just take it right back and you apologize.”

Stefan shook his head, trying to clear it. “Why would you want him out of town? You were engaged when he left. He ran off with your money.”

Rose tried to shake him and failed. “I didn’t want to marry him, get it? I just couldn’t imagine marriage to Mike. Eventually I saw what he was. He was lazy and he talked too much, and he didn’t get along with Dad. In the end, it was just easier giving him money and the idea that Waterville already had too many mechanics. He left because
I
wanted him to. So you’ve got to apologize and give it back. And what makes you think you’ve got any right to settle my honor, anyway? I’ve never been a damsel in distress. I’ve always managed my own life quite well, without your help.”

“You rejected him?” Stefan’s mind was whirling. Rose hadn’t wanted to marry Mike. “You paid him to leave town?”

Rose tried again to shake Stefan; he stood like a granite boulder. “Even when I caught him with another woman, he still told me he loved me. He was determined to marry me, probably just to prove that he could. I took the easy way out and bribed him with the money I’d saved for that
super-duper wedding I’m never going to have.
You have to return it and you have to apologize.
Mike wasn’t a bad guy, but he wasn’t for me. He’s had a hard life and he was sorry about the bet. I think he would have tried to be faithful, even though he might not have been successful. So you just go to him and tell him how sorry you are and give him back the money I gave him.”

Stefan thought of how badly he’d wanted to brawl with Mike after he’d insinuated that Rose was under par as a lover. But Mike hadn’t taken Stefan’s too quiet invitation. He’d backed off and had taken an hour to get the cash amount. Stefan met Rose’s narrowed eyes. “I do not like orders.”

“You give enough of them. I just watched you course through a meeting like a human shark, tearing apart anything you didn’t like. You can’t manage lives like you do business, bud.”

Stefan’s headache began to throb. He should have known that nothing about Rose was as simple as it seemed. The tag “bud” nettled him. He’d wanted her alone, away from interruptions, and he’d maneuvered her into coming to see him. His pride needed one bit of encouragement that she could care for him as he cared for her. Now she was glaring up at him and, once more, he had offended a woman dear to him.

When Rose picked up her tote, preparing to leave, Stefan had to act. He rubbed his chest and wondered how she could have surrendered to him so sweetly just a moment ago and how his plans could go so wrong. It seemed that from the first day he met her, he was making mistakes. He should have known from his experience with his mother and daughter and wife that simplicity wasn’t the nature of a woman. He was a man alone, unsteady at the helm of a relationship he wanted very much. He was vulnerable and
that made him uneasy. He sorted through his options—what would make Rose want to kiss him again? After a long, deep breath, he reluctantly said, “Very well. If it means so much to you, I will apologize to Mike and give him back the money.”

“Thank you,” Rose said tightly.

Stefan studied her, the tote gripped tightly in her hands. “Where are you going?”

“Home.” The single word sounded like the falling of a tombstone on his plans for a romantic evening with Rose.

“Fine,” he said, not wanting to humiliate himself further with her. He’d draw back, consider another approach and wait until she was more receptive to logic.

“Fine,” she echoed, meeting his gaze.

The air stilled, quivered and heated between them and each stood perfectly still, Rose clutching her tote. “I’m hungry,” she said suddenly and dug inside her bag to retrieve a large homemade cookie. “Granola. Nuts. Raisins. Courtesy of Mrs. Wilkins. She’s already warming her oven up for the sympathy dishes. Want one?”

He wanted Rose. “Thanks,” he said, his senses heating when her tongue crept out to claim a crumb.

His secretary chose that unfortunate time to put through a call from an irate chef, unhappy with Stefan’s decision to revamp the new restaurant’s kitchen. The intrusion reminded Stefan that he had little time alone with Rose. “Quit then, if that is what you want. All your specialty dishes are the property of Donatien Restaurants—I taught them to you—they are recipes that have been in my family for generations. You will have to develop complete new ones, if you work elsewhere.”

Stefan punched the intercom button to Megan, his secretary. “I told you to hold all calls. One more and there goes your Christmas bonus.”

Megan was silent in the way that meant she was not pleased. He regretted speaking sharply to a woman he respected. He trusted her logical decisions as to the importance of calls. An irate chef could cause bad publicity for Donatien’s and she had been right to put through the call. Ordinarily Stefan would have called her back and thanked her. Business and his relationship with Rose were not compatible ingredients. “I apologize, Megan. I am under stress,” he admitted. “You are very efficient and I am grateful for your help. Your bonus is intact. You were right to put through this call. Thank you.”

Tonight, however, he wanted no interruptions. Rose eyed him as he took the cookie, automatically assessing the ingredients. “You’re having a bad day, aren’t you?”

He’d had a bad two weeks without her, but a man’s pride would only let him say so much. “Yes.”

He caught Rose’s soft, motherly look and tossed it away. He wanted her all-woman look, the one that said he wasn’t a “bud.” “But spare me the sympathy.”

They ate the cookies and Rose studied him. “You’ve got that little-boy look again. If you’re doing it on purpose, it’s a killer. You’re pouting, aren’t you?”

“Mike is a lowlife,” Stefan muttered. “I do not pout.”

“You didn’t hurt him, did you?” she asked worriedly. “He talks like he’s tough, but he’s really not in shape. Even I could take him in a wrestling match. In fact I did. He’s big and slow. I pinned him in ten seconds.”

Stefan did not like the low growl that was his own. In his mind he was tearing Mike from Rose and challenging him to a duel at dawn, in the fog-draped trees. “When are you returning?”

She glanced at the big chrome clock on the wall. “In about five hours.”

Five hours alone with Rose could be heaven. Stefan’s
hopes lifted. Perhaps he could correct the errors he had made with her. “Have dinner with me?”

She shrugged. “Okay, but if it’s too much trouble, the sandwiches at the vending machines in the airport are fine.” She smiled at his grimace.

Later, after a fried chicken and potato salad meal, she sipped her iced tea—just perfect, the way she liked it, with sugar added to the pitcher. “I didn’t know dinner was going to be here, in your apartment. You’re pretty good at home cooking. This is quite a meal for late afternoon.”

“Nothing to it. A simple meal.” Stefan did not want to tell her that he’d salvaged time from his tightly packed days to prepare the same dinner for his staff. He’d kept chicken and potatoes on hand every day, just waiting for Rose to appear. He’d noted the staff’s comments and adjusted from his first failures. He also noted that Rose was in a better mood, because she had a loving heart and once she’d said her piece, she was ready to move on.

Stefan was also ready to move on—straight into making love with her. His body told him that lovemaking would seal and settle their future, that all else would fall into place after the event. His logic told him to move slowly, carefully with Rose, to obtain her in the most gentlest of ways, to make certain that she received her due as a well-loved woman. “Let’s move to the couch,” he suggested. “You must have had a long day. Let me rub your feet.”

The road to desire started with her toes and insoles, Rose decided twenty minutes later as she lay on the couch—and the path wound upward. With soft music playing, Stefan’s big, warm hands on her feet, and the good meal filling her, she was ready for more dessert than the rest of the cookies. Sitting on the couch, Stefan had that appealing, male-at-home look, his shirt opened to show that fascinating wedge
of hair on his chest. She studied his expression, that infinite concentration as his hands moved carefully over her, massaging her feet in his lap. She’d seen him in action, laying out the foundation for acquiring a new company, curtly itemizing the changes that needed to be made, the contract clauses that needed defining. He’d methodically ripped through a mountain of decisions, slashing his signature on paperwork at the same time. Rose had listened to his voice very carefully; not once did his voice lower and that seductive accent appear.

Yet she had known that every moment, he was aware of her. Those darkened eyes had periodically pinned her. His smile was brief and pleased, before he cruised into the business meeting like a warlord moving through battle. The intensity of that knowledge had shocked her.
Once, while he was pacing, wrapped in the business takeover and staff changes, he had stopped those curt, one-two-three sentences and touched her hair. He had lifted it to the light and smiled tenderly at her. “Catch any pigs lately?” he’d asked huskily as his accent curled intimately around her.