It's in His Kiss Holiday Romance Collection (4 page)

But all that took place only in the kitchen.

What about the bedroom?

She’d become almost afraid to sleep with a man for fear she wouldn’t react correctly. Wouldn’t show enough passion or spunk or allow herself to
unfurl.

Rose-Marie Cupido had become everything Max had said,
logical and neat to a fault.
She hadn’t let herself go in more years than she’d like to remember. Hell, she hadn’t let herself “go” ever! She’d held things in when she should have let them come screaming out.

Even when she’d reconnected with her father, she never allowed herself to tell him what she’d felt all those years after he’d deserted her and her mom. How difficult it was watching her mom try to make enough money to put food on the table. How she’d worked long hours while Rose locked herself safe and alone in the house. She’d cleaned to help keep the fear away. Fear that someone would break in and hurt her, or kidnap her. She’d cleaned so her mom wouldn’t have to. As if cleaning gave her purpose, as if she were contributing. She’d cleaned to avoid crying over missing her dad, over missing his love, and him telling her how pretty she was.

Picking up her phone she dialed her dad’s number, ready to let loose, ready to unload her pain.

But instead she had a better idea.

* * *

It was almost three in the morning when Max stumbled back to Rosie’s place near the marina on the bay. All he wanted was to flop in bed and sleep for about twelve hours. He hadn’t worked so hard in years. A busy bar was easy, a dead one was work. You had to be both bartender and entertainer … neither of which he was in the mood for.

Ever since Saturday night when Rosie-Rose had run off to her room crying, he’d felt like absolute shit. He even contemplated leaving, but he didn’t really want to. Not without talking to her first. He hadn’t meant to make her cry, he merely wanted to help her relax, which was something she truly needed.

He could hear her cleaning every morning like there was going to be some kind of inspection of the dust and grime in her already spotless condo. It was crazy how she buzzed around the house before she even had a cup of coffee or tea or whatever the hell she drank in the morning … if she even took time to have tea or coffee in the morning. He didn’t know what she drank or ate because he was too damn scared to confront her. He couldn’t take more tears.

Yeah, he was a softy when it came to a crying woman. It got him every time. If one tear even slipped down a feminine cheek he was ready to lie down and beg for mercy. He instantly had to find a way to make everything right. He figured it came from when he was growing up and his mom would cry over arguments with his old man. Things got a little tough for her for a few years, but once she dumped his worthless father and found her footing playing with the big boys in the stock market, and money started pouring in, she never cried again. At least not that he’d seen.

Rosie had graciously left him his own key, so he didn’t have to wake her when he came in late. Each night he did his best to open and close the door without making a sound. Difference was, tonight as he stood in front of the door trying to get his key to turn in the lock, he could hear music coming from inside her condo.

He opened the door slowly and there, standing in front of the windows facing him, wearing shiny red heels, sheer white stockings that stopped three-quarters up her lovely thighs, the tiniest of pink panties, and matching pink bra that barely covered her perfect breasts, holding a full martini glass in one hand, the shaker in the other was Rosie-Rose Cupido, looking about as cute and sexy as he could ever have imagined.

“Rough night?” she said as a devious grin stretched across her incredibly beautiful face.

“It’s better now.”

“Martini?”

She held out the glass. The color of its contents matched her enticing underwear. He took the glass, and eagerly gulped down the liquid without really tasting it. When he was finished, he said, “Are you having one?”

“Already had two.”

“I need to catch up.”

“You seem fine with one.”

“It’s an illusion. I’m really sober as a judge.”

“Are judges sober?”

“Not the ones I know. They’re all alcoholics.”

“Sounds about right then.”

“Perfect.”

He put the empty glass on a nearby end table, took the shaker from her, put that down and proceeded to take her in his arms and kiss her, deep and hard, as if he’d been starving for her his entire life. She tasted of cranberries and vodka, and she smelled all musky like she’d been aroused all night and her body had secreted a wonderfully erotic scent just for him. He pulled her in tighter, until he was afraid he might crush her with his strength, but he wanted her more than he had wanted any woman. As if he’d die if he didn’t have her right now, right where they stood.

He cupped her breast, and slid his fingers over the thin fabric of her skimpy bra so he could feel her hardened nipple. He then slid his hand down between her legs and held it there, feeling the warmth of her, wanting to taste her, to touch her inside where she was soft and hot for him.

But as much as he wanted every inch of her, he knew Rosie wasn’t the kind of girl who could make love to a man who would leave her. It about killed him to move away from her.

“Rosie,” he whispered. “We can’t. I can’t do this.”

She fell into him, resting her full weight on his body. “No, don’t stop. This is supposed to happen. I don’t want to be logical anymore. I’m letting go. You have to catch me.”

They dropped to her white carpet. He cradled her in his arms on the way down. “I’m here for you, but I won’t stay, Rosie. It won’t last.”

“I don’t care. I want you now. I’ve always wanted you. Since we were kids.”

“Rosie, look at me.” They were lying alongside one another, her legs wrapped around his. Her body dangerously close. His resistance to her took every ounce of strength he had left. “You need a man who will be by your side for your entire life. I know you Rosie. I know the kind of girl you are. This is your home. Your town. You’ll never leave. You’re a hometown girl who needs a hometown boy. I’m not that person, Rosie.”

“But you are. You’ve always been.”

He ran his hand up the back of her lovely neck, and buried his fingers in her hair. “No. You just thought I was, but I never was. Not then. I didn’t know you then. Not like I do now.”

Big, shiny tears began to slip from her eyes. “Take me with you. I’ve always wanted to be with you. Take me.”

There comes a time in every man’s life when his own emotions overpower him. When he can’t hold back the intensity of his feelings. This was one of those times. He’d been falling for Rose, falling hard and fast, knowing it could never work out, until now. Not only did she get what he was all about, but she was willing to join him on his odyssey. Willing to drop everything in her life to follow him. That was simply too much. He knew he didn’t deserve her kind of love. Didn’t deserve her at all.

His eyes welled with such force that tears tumbled out before he knew what was happening. Never had he experienced such a powerful sensation.

Was it love?

He didn’t know. He’d never been in love before, at least not like this.

She kissed his eyes as he tried to stop the tears, then she slowly unbuttoned his shirt and lay her head on his bare chest. He caressed her back until he pulled himself together. Then as if she could sense it, she pushed herself up and kissed him again, angling her body on top of his.

This time he would have her, all of her, and they’d think about their future tomorrow.

* * *

Rose awoke to the smell of coffee. She was in her bed, even though she couldn’t remember how she’d gotten there.

Naked.

That, she remembered.

Oh, sister, did she ever remember.

Rose smiled and stretched, feeling like a wicked little kitten in the warm sun. She rolled out of bed, walked into her tile and polished chrome bathroom, opened the clear-glass shower door, turned on the water to just a few degrees just below scalding, and stepped into her luxurious shower.

Not three minutes later, the glass door opened and Max stepped in with her.

“Coffee or tea?” He asked as he dumped shampoo in his hand and lathered up his hair, looking but not touching her. His body lean and ripped with muscle.

“Coffee, strong and black,” she told him as she lathered her own body with soap, caressing her breasts, her stomach and between her legs, lingering there as her desire for him increased.

“I like watching you,” he told her as he washed himself. His full erection taunting her. His dark eyes following her every nuance.

“Anytime,” she said, as she slowed her washing down, careful to give attention to every inch of her soapy body.

After a few minutes he said, “Mind if I come in?”

“I’d mind if you didn’t.”

She leaned back against the glass tiled wall, wrapped a leg around him to pull him in closer. He grabbed hold, and slid his hand under her butt cheek to steady both of them as the water cascaded over their bodies. Then he entered her with one swift movement, making her cry out with pleasure. The hot water caused her excitement to escalate beyond what she thought possible. Within minutes his quick, tight movements brought on a simultaneous release.

Afterward, they stood together for a moment, enjoying kisses as the hot water helped to bring them back down to earth. Then, he gently pulled away.

“Eggs a la Florentine, with a bit of a twist?” he asked with a wicked little smirk.

“That would be lovely, yes. But I’d like your Béchamel sauce on the side.”

“You just want to see how I make it.”

“I think I deserve as much.”

“Lovemaking is one thing. Cooking is a sauce of a different color.”

“You’re a cad.”

“And you’re a Harleton.”

He stepped out of the shower, and grabbed a white towel just as his phone rang.

Chapter Four

By the time Rose dried her hair, applied makeup and got dressed, made her bed, and purposely only half-cleaned the bathroom, breakfast was on the table.

Max was positively beaming when she walked into the kitchen. “You’re not going to believe who phoned me while you were getting dressed.”

Rose went over to him and brushed his lips with a kiss. “Who?”

He handed her a plate filled with perfectly cooked spinach omelet, drizzled with an undoubtedly perfect Mornay sauce, his Béchamel undoubtedly used as the base.

“This is a great moment for both of us.”

“This smells and looks delicious.”

He sat down across from her at the glass table, placing his white dish in front of him. The coffee was poured in two white mugs, and salt and pepper grinders sat in the middle of the table.

He stared at her. “Aren’t you curious?”

She tasted the sauce. “Honey. You’ve added honey.”

“No. It’s not honey. But aren’t you curious about who was on the phone? It’s an incredible opportunity for us, and it could not have come at a better time.”

She cut into her omelet, the eggs cooked with precision, the spinach tender and sweet, the sauce creamy smooth. She took a bite. “Mmmm. This is absolute perfection. How did you get the eggs so light?”

“I added a little warm milk and olive oil and whipped them with a fork. Rosie, this news is going to rock your world.”

“You already rocked my world both last night and this morning. I don’t need any more rocking. I’ll get dizzy.”

He grinned, and took a bite of his food. “Fine then. I won’t tell you that I’ve booked us a flight for the morning of the fourteenth to the Bordeaux region in France. And I won’t tell you that we’re going to learn how to make wine from Master Winemaker, Andre Pontallier. We’ll be living in the beautiful village of St. Julien, which is right on the river, for the next nine months soaking up the region and each other.” He put his fork down and sat back in his chair, a silly-kid-smile on his adorable face. “Isn’t that incredible?”

Her stomach immediately clenched. “The fourteenth? You booked our flight on Valentine’s Day, the busiest night of the year for the restaurant industry? What were you thinking?”

“Rosie, you don’t get it. This man is one of the best, if not the best winemaker in all of France. People will do almost anything just to meet him. When this genius says his class will begin on February sixteenth, then that’s the day it will begin. The class is only open to six people and it’s the single most difficult class to get into. I’ve been trying for three years. It’s a miracle there was room for both of us. If we don’t show up on that first day, we automatically lose our spot. It’s that simple.”

“But we have to leave on Valentines Day to get there on time. Do you have any idea what that means to
With a Twist
if I’m not there? Not to mention Jasmine and Daisy? How can I possibly leave them?”

“They’ll figure it out. They’re smart girls. Your Sous-Chef can handle it. He’ll just have to hire somebody to help him. Not a big deal.”

Rose stood. “It
is
a big deal. A very big deal. For one thing, I don’t have a Sous-Chef, not really. The place is too small. I have a great line chef, but he won’t be able to handle it. He’s not prepared to handle it. That’s my kitchen. How can I possibly leave it on Valentine’s Day?”

“From what I’ve seen in the last few days, it won’t matter.
With a Twist
doesn’t have a full booking
for the busiest day in the industry.
That’s a bad sign, Rosie, no matter how you look at it.
With a Twist
could be in real trouble.”

Rose couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “
With a Twist
might be going through a rough patch, but it’s not going under. It can’t be going …”

Then it hit her, the gypsy’s prediction. Business had been dropping off because of her. She had closed her heart to him until last night and if she didn’t agree to go with him now, he’d close his heart to her forever. She would be directly responsible for the failure of everything.

She couldn’t let that happen to Jasmine and Daisy. She just couldn’t.

“… I’ll come with you on the fourteenth, but I don’t want to tell the girls yet. So let’s keep it our secret for a few days while I get the kitchen ready for Valentine’s Day. No matter what else happens, I want the menu to be ready and the food to be prepped.”