Black Rose - NRoberts - G2 Black Rose

“Won’t matter a damn.” He gave her a light kiss, then shifted. Took her hand. “This mattered. This was important. There isn’t anyone else.”

Her heart trembled a little, made her feel young and just a little foolish. “Yes, this mattered. This was important. There isn’t anyone else.”

“Serious business,” he said, and drew her hand to his lips. “I’m going to start wanting you again, real soon.”

She squeezed his hand. “We’ll have to see what we can do about that.”

TWELVE

ROZ FOLLOWED THEscent of coffee, and the noise, into the kitchen. The dreary gray rain had canceled her morning run, so she’d channeled the energy into three miles on her treadmill. It was an alternative that usually bored her senseless, but today she’d found herself singing along with commercial jingles during the Today show breaks.

In the kitchen the baby was banging away on her high chair tray with the enthusiasm of a heavy metal drummer, and Stella’s boys were whining over their cereal.

“Yes,” Stella announced with the snap of motherly frustration in her voice, “you both have to wear your raincoats, because I’m mean and bossy and I want you to be miserable.”

“We hate the raincoats,” Gavin informed her.

“Really? That’s not what you said when you begged me to buy them.”

“That was before.”

Perhaps in sympathy, perhaps for the fun of it, Lily stopped banging her teething rattle and threw it—along with her mangled Zwieback. The eagle-eyed Parker fielded the Zwieback before it hit the floor, and the rattle landed with a solid plop in Luke’s bowl of Cap’n Crunch.

Milk fumed up and over the rim of the bowl, causing Lily to scream in delight. In a chain reaction, Parker let out a spate of ear-piercing barks and did canine flips while Gavin doubled over in hysterics.

Stella was quick, but for once Luke was quicker and had the rattle out of the bowl and tossed, dripping, into his brother’s lap.

“Oh, for God’s sake.” Stella grabbed a napkin with one hand and held up the other to block Gavin’s retaliation. “Don’t even think about it.”

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” Hayley scooped up the bowl, more napkins as the boys shoved at each other.

A calm in the storm, David walked over with a damp rag. “We’ll mop it up. Troublemaker,” he said to Lily, who answered him with a huge, crumby grin.

Roz studied the chaos, and just beamed.

“Morning,” she said and strolled in.

Heads turned.

“Roz?” Stella stared at her. “What are you doing here?”

“Since I live here, I thought I’d come in and get myself a cup of coffee.” She bent down to brush a kiss over the top of Lily’s head. “Hello, boys. That baby’s got pretty good aim, doesn’t she? Two-pointed it right in the goal.”

The idea was so intriguing the boys stopped fighting. “Do it again, Lily!” Luke tugged on his mother’s sleeve. “Give it back to her, Mom, so she can do it again.”

“Not right now. You’ve got to finish up or you’ll be late for school.” She checked her watch and saw it was indeed just after eight, and a full hour after Roz was usually on her way out the door.

“My cereal’s got baby spit in it now,” Luke complained.

“You can have a muffin instead.”

“Then I want a muffin.” Gavin shoved his cereal aside. “If he can have a muffin, I can have a muffin, too.”

“Fine, fine.”

“I’ll get them.” Hayley gestured Stella back. “Least I can do.”

“Mmm, don’t they smell great?” Roz sniffed at the bowl filled with fresh apple muffins. She plucked one out for herself, then leaned back against the counter, her coffee in one hand, her muffin in the other. “Can’t be a better way to start the day. And look at that rain. Nothing like a good all-day soaker.”

After Hayley passed out muffins, she bent close to Stella’s ear. “Somebody got her batteries charged.”

Stella fought to swallow a snorting laugh. “We’ll be out of your way in a minute.”

“No rush.” Roz bit into the muffin.

“You’re usually gone, or finishing up before the invasion.”

“Slept in a little today.”

“That explains the bulletin I heard on the news this morning about hell freezing over.” David didn’t bother to hide the smirk as he brought the coffeepot over to top off Roz’s mug.

“Aren’t you full of sass this morning.”

“I’m not the only one full of something. How’d the . . . lasagna go over?”

“Very well.” She gave him a bland look over the rim of her cup, and wondered if she was wearing a sign: Recently Got Laid.

“You ought to have a nice big helping of it more often. Puts roses in your cheeks.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

“I could use a nice hot dish of lasagna myself,” Hayley commented. “Come on, baby doll, let’s get you cleaned up.” She took Lily out of the high chair.

“You guys go up and get your things—including raincoats,” Stella ordered. “It’s almost time to go.”

But she loitered another minute. “You want to ride over with me?” she asked Roz.

“I guess I will.”

STELLA WAITED UNTILthey were starting down the drive. By her calculations, swinging just a half a mile out of the way to drop Lily off at the babysitter’s should give them enough time.

“We made a lot of progress on the painting last night. It’s going to be nice to have the dining room finished and put together by the wedding. I’d really like to have a dinner party once we’re set. David and all of us, Harper, my parents. Oh and Mitch, of course.”

“That’d be nice.”

“He’s around so much—Mitch, I mean—these days, he feels like part of the household.” At Roz’s noncommittal hmmm , Stella glanced in the rearview mirror to see Hayley rolling her eyes and giving get-to-it hand signals.

“So . . . ah, did you and Mitch work on the project last night, or take advantage of the quiet house and just relax?”

“Stella, why don’t you just ask me if I had sex with him instead of beating around the bush? Nothing I hate more than seeing a bush beat half to death.”

“I was being subtle,” Stella replied.

“No, you weren’t.”

“I told her she didn’t have to lead up to everything,” Hayley said from the back. “Besides, we know you had sex. You’ve got that recently waxed and lubed look.”

“God.”

“Of course, it’s none of our business,” Stella put in, shooting Hayley a hot look in the mirror.

“Of course it’s not,” Roz agreed easily.

“But we just wanted to find a way to say that we’re happy if you’re happy. That we think Mitch is a terrific guy, and we’re here to support—”

“Jeez.” Hayley leaned forward as much as her seat belt would allow. “What she’s trying to say in her Stella way is: Score!”

“I am not. Exactly. I’m trying to say, with some delicacy—”

“Screw delicacy. Hey, just because people are a little older and all doesn’t mean they don’t want and deserve some touch the same as the next guy.”

“Oh,” Roz declared. “I repeat, God.”

“You’re beautiful and sexy,” Hayley continued. “He’s great looking and sexy. So, it seems to me that sex is . . . She really can’t understand all this, right?” Biting her lip, she glanced at Lily, who was busy playing with her own fingers. “I read this theory on how babies absorb all the stimuli around them, including voices and words, and kind of file them away, and shoot, here we are.”

She gathered the diaper bag, then jumped out of the car in the rain. After jogging around, she opened the door to release Lily’s harness and drape a blanket over her head. “Don’t say anything interesting while I’m gone. I mean it.”

When she dashed off, Roz let out a long, heartfelt sigh. “Half the time that girl makes me feel old and creaky, and the other half she makes me feel about eighteen and grass green.”

“I know exactly what you mean. And I know it sounds like we’re pushing and prying into your private life, but it’s because, well, it’s just because we love you, that’s all. And added to it, we were wondering when you and Mitch might take things up a level.”

“Wondering, were you?”

Stella winced. “The subject might have come up in casual conversation. Once or twice.”

“Why don’t I let you know when and if I’d like to have a casual conversation on the subject?”

“Sure. Absolutely.”

When Hayley ran back out, jerked open the door, Stella cleared her throat—loudly—and gave a quick shake of her head. As Hayley let out a disgusted sigh, Stella pulled away from the side of the road and spoke brightly.

“So, I’ve been working on ideas for displaying the potting soil.”

HER LIFE DIDN’Tchange, Roz reminded herself, just because she’d gone to bed with a man she found attractive and appealing. Life went on, with its duties and obligations, its irritations and its pleasures.

As she headed for her garden club’s monthly meeting, she wasn’t sure which category her current destination landed in.

A Harper had been a member of the garden club since her grandmother’s day. In fact, her grandmother had helped form it in 1928, and Harper House had held many of its early meetings.

As the owner of a garden center, she felt a double obligation to support the group and remain an active member. And there were some pleasures attached to it. She enjoyed talking with like-minded people about gardening and felt the club had worked hard to implement fund-raisers for beautification projects.

But then, there were plenty who just wanted to dress up, have lunch, and gossip.

She walked into the meeting room at the country club into that beehive hum of female voices. Square enameled pots exploding with forced narcissus sat festively on tables draped with spring-green linen. A podium stood in front of the room for the various committee chairs who’d give their reports or pitches.

She could only thank God she wasn’t chairing anything currently.

When she stepped farther into the room, glances shot her way, and the hum of voices trailed off. And died.

Almost immediately they started up again, just a bit too loud, just a bit too bright. She let the cold shield slide over her, and continued to walk straight to a table.

“Aren’t these flowers sweet.” She looked directly at Jan Forrester as if she couldn’t hear the whispers under the forced chatter. “A nice reminder spring’s just around the corner. How are you, Jan?”

“Oh, fine, Roz. I’m just fine, how about you?”

“Couldn’t be better. How’s Quill doing?”

She flushed, deep and rosy. “Oh, you know Quill.”

“I certainly do. You just give him my best, won’t you?”

It was pride that had her walking the gauntlet, mingling with the crowd, speaking with more than a dozen people before she moved to the pots of coffee and tea. She opted for tea, cold, rather than her habitual coffee.

Her throat felt scalded.

“Roz, honey, don’t you look fabulous.” Cissy sidled up, smelling of Obsession and smiling like a hungry cat. “I swear, nobody wears clothes like you do. What color would you call that suit?”

Roz glanced down at the trim jacket and pants. “I have no idea.”

“Apricot. That’s just what it looks like, a nice ripe apricot. That little turnip-head Mandy’s been flapping her foolish tongue as fast as she can,” she said under her breath. “You and me need to have ourselves a tête-à-tête .”