Rose of Betrayal (6 page)

           
Well aware of Ted and Brad’s lifestyle,
noticing the state of Brad’s dress, considering it was late in the day,
surprise then embarrassed was evident in Ralph’s features.
 
Brad’s lack of bashfulness did not concern
Ralph, it was wondering how the young woman behind him would feel when
introduced to a man clad in a bathrobe.

           
Anxiety induced a nervous
cough.
 
Covering his mouth, Ralph managed
to clear his throat before speaking.
 
“I
hate to disturb you, Mr. Johnson, but you see, this ah . . . this young woman
said she's a friend of Ted's.
 
She became
quite unreasonable when I informed her he only receives visitors by
appointment.
 
She has nowhere else to go,
she claimed.
 
The scene she made in the
lobby left me no alternative but to personally escort her to verify her
story.”
 
Explanation exhausted, Ralph
eased aside to reveal the mystery guest.

           
Throughout Ralph's amusing tale of
woe, Brad peered over his friend's shoulder expecting to see the intruder.
 
Much to his surprise, when Ralph stepped
aside, he had to lower his gaze substantially to view the petite female holding
an oversized suitcase.
 
He was not sure
what it was about the girl that made the greatest impact for he felt a
sledgehammer had hit him. Typically, his eyes assessed every morsel as they
traveled the length of her athletic, trim figure. Glistening black hair pulled
into a French braid, ended at her waist.
 
A flawless olive complexion glowed from the sun's kiss.
 
The long eyelashes curling up and touching
arched eyebrows were darker than her hair, and, glaring at him now, were the
deepest, bluest eyes ringed in black.
 
Never before did Brad see such natural beauty that the slightest touch
of makeup would have been a sin.
 

           
It required tremendous effort for
Brad to tug his eyes from a gaze that was swallowing him whole.
 
With his concentration considerably damaged,
he continued inspecting her pug nose and pink bow mouth that curved into a
beguiling smile exposing perfect white teeth.
 
He was proud of his gallant effort at being a nobleman, until his glance
found the powder blue angora sweater caressing, quite nicely, surprisingly
large breasts for a pint-sized female.
 

           
Sprinting emotions lowered his eye's
hoping the lids following would hood his thoughts. Defying him instead, they
sprung wide when locking on a narrow waist he envisioned his hands easily
encircling like the wide leather belt holding up the lucky faded blue
jeans.
 
Jeans filled out much too
enticingly.
 
By the time his inspection
found the high-heeled mahogany boots that added much needed height to a possible
five foot two, he was breathless.
 
The
stranger possessed a one hundred percent sex appeal that was unlocking a
powerful need.
 
Surprisingly, she
appeared deliciously unaware of the effect she was having on him and no doubt
the entire male populace.
 
Lost within
whirling emotions, abruptly, like a hangman's noose, her deep throaty voice
jerked him from lusty thoughts.

           
Damn men, they were all the same,
Sam fumed, more than just a little upset and embarrassed by the strangers
obvious male scrutiny.
 
Fighting back the
color threatening to reveal her true feelings, she forced a congenial
voice.
 
Reaching out, she shook his
hand.
 
“Hi, I'm Samantha Waverly, a
friend of Ted's.”

Brad remained
unresponsive.
 
Wondering what had come
over Brad, Ralph deliberately coughed to gain his attention.

           
Feeling ambushed, taken completely
by a delightful surprise annihilating his normal control, Brad stammered,
“Oh!
 
Excuse me.
 
I mean . . . well . . . pardon my appearance,
I'm Brad Johnson.”

           
God, man, what is wrong with you, he
secretly scolded himself sincerely hoping his guest would not notice the
arousal beneath his robe.
 
Never before
had he been at a loss for words, or stuttered around a woman, much less a half
pint barely out of pigtails.
 
Pull
yourself together, you jerk, he admonished himself.

           
In a vain attempt to improve his
appearance, combing fingers through wet curls dampened the hand extended to
accept Sam’s greeting.
 
When awareness
struck, he quickly wiped the moisture on a sleeve before clasping hers.
 

           
Sam's fragile hand, seductive,
filled with feminine warmth, made it impossible for him to relinquish the
hold.
 
Seconds passed without a word
while perplexing blue eyes, lucid, and honest, scintillating with a luminous
intelligence he could feel, held black in a trance. Unbelievably, Brad felt the
protective shield around his heart melting, not completely, but thawing
considerably as heat built between them.
 
Skin against skin made a draft of erotic tension leap into life.

           
Sam tried not to gawk at Brad's
striking good looks.
 
He was handsome all
right, too damned handsome.
 
Beads of
water from freshly shampooed kinky locks were dripping onto his mouth.
 
Thick, shapely lips tilted into a crooked
smile deepened the dimple in his chin.
 
A
day old beard painted a shadow on bronze features, God help her, his eyes,
dark, wild, and searing threatening to turn the hardest steel to liquid, held
her against her will.
  

           
Lowering her gaze to the thick
matting covering his chest, then down to the bulge barely concealed by his
robe, was a huge mistake.
 
Embarrassment's color beginning at her neck plummeted before its
telltale sign reached her face.
  
With
his hard, strong hand absorbing hers, a feeling of uneasiness crept through her
as though she had drunk a glass of champagne too quickly, a hand squeezing ever
so slightly making her stomach somersault and lungs ache from the lack of
reviving oxygen.
 
Emotions spinning out
of control made her question if she were going to faint for the first time in
her life.
 
She desperately wanted to tug
her hand free but doing so would expose her raw nerves.
 
Instead, coaxing a fake smile, she forced her
eyes to meet his.
 
Gazing into the hot,
liquid pools, again made a tide of scarlet rush to her face.
 
It was her hand turning clammy that made her
wrench it free.
 
Almost choking, she
hurriedly asked, “Is Ted here?”

 
          
Reality
laced with a whole lot of fear struck Brad like a lightning bolt.
 
Holly shit, Ted was in the bedroom with
another woman.
 
Think fast, idiot, Brad‘s
mind reeled.
 
“Right now he is in the
shower.
 
Please come in and make yourself
comfortable.
 
I’ll let him know you're
here.”

           
After thanking Ralph, then signaling
him to leave, Brad escorted Samantha into the living room.
 
As she moved past him, his eyes never wavered
from her lissome posture, graceful strides, and supple legs.
 
Motioning toward the sitting area, “Please
make yourself at home, Miss Waverly.”

           
Samantha was about to sit on the
impressive white, leather sofa when a red lace bra nestled between the cracks
of the cushions caught her attention, and Brad's as well.
 
Praying she did not notice the garment, in
his rush to reach the sofa he stumbled over his clumsy feet.
 
Despite the heat of her eyes burning his
back, masquerading intentions, he rearranged the pillows, retrieved the flimsy
article, and stuffed it into his robe pocket.

           
Completely mesmerized by her smile,
he watched as her eyes scanned the room.
 
Lipstick stained cigarettes over flowed from an ashtray, an empty bottle
of wine along with two glasses on the black and chrome, mirrored coffee table,
a pair of red high heels.
 
Just imagining
what was going through her mind made Brad quickly retrieve the shoes?
 
His lame explanation made matters worse, if
that was possible.
 
“These belong to a
friend of mine."
   

           
The virile man he was, his eyes
could not resist flowing over Sam's nubile hips, and firm buttocks as she bent
to retrieve the bikini panties beneath the sofa.
 
Straightening her posture, eyes gleaming with
an askew smile, she offered them to him, “Yours?”
 

           
Secretly wishing the panties would
disintegrate brought an irresistible twinkle of amusement to Brads' black eyes.
His lips twitched. Color tinted his princely face.
 
Casually retrieving them, “Well uh, you see,
we . . . I mean . . . I had a guest last night.” Unnerved by his stuttering,
Brad felt a desperate urge to change the subject. “Would you care for a drink,
Miss Waverly?”

           
“No thank you.
 
I do not drink,
 
I mean at least not this early in the
day.
 
Please call me Sam.”
  
The fact she never drank at all was her
secret. Becoming worldly was going to take some time.

           
 
Brad never heard a woman's voice as deep and
as raspy as Sam's, its vibrations raced his spine.
  
Unable to tear his gaze from her lips he
wondered if alcohol ever touched them and what he would give to ravish them and
thrust his tongue down her throat.
 
Having considerable knowledge of the female sex, he detected her
charade.
 
She was jail bate, pure and
simple.
 
Now he understood why Ted was
smitten.
 
Just imagining what it would be
like to touch her, kiss her, fuck her, made him embarrassingly aware the
changes in his body.
 
No wonder Ted was
bedding everything in skirts.
 

“Excuse me, Miss
Waverly . . . I mean, Sam.
 
I'm going to
tell Ted you are here.”
 
Despite wanting
to dash from the room, like in a trance he stared at Sam for several
moments.
  

The laser like eyes
of Brads' beginning to melt her made Sam wish to become invisible, instantly
Ted’s stories about Brad came to mind.
 
“Is something wrong, Mr. Johnson?”

           
“Brad! Please.
 
For some reason you do not quite fit the
image of a Sam.
 
The name doesn't seem
proper for someone as . . . as . . . beautiful as you.”
 
Abruptly he turned forcing himself not to
run.
 
Again, he had stuttered.
 
Again, he reprimanded himself, idiot.

           
Entering Ted’s room, quickly
covering the distance to the bed Brad plucked Ted butt naked to his feet and
pushed him toward the bathroom. “Get into the shower.
 
We have a major problem.”
  
Barking over his shoulder he told Bernie to
grab her robe and meet him in the adjoining bedroom.

“What the fuck is
going on?
 
Have you gone mad?”
 
Ted bellowed.

           
“We have company.
 
For your health, safety and welfare get in
the shower right now.”
 
One shove brought
Ted into the stall.
 
A twist of a wrist
summoned ice-old water.
 
Served Ted right
for putting him into this predicament.

           
“Jesus Christ, damn it all to hell,
Brad!
 
Spill your guts or I am going to
beat the crap out of you.
 
Do you hear
me?”

“There's a Miss
Waverly in the other room.
 
Remember
Wyoming, buddy?”

Jerking a robe off
the hook Brad tossed it to Ted just as he stepped from the shower looking as if
he had seen a ghost.

“You must be kidding,
man!
 
Tell me I'm dreaming.”