Black Rose - NRoberts - G2 Black Rose

One who’d ask her out when she was covered with wood chips.

Why couldn’t they just have sex and clear the air?

Because she wasn’t built that way, she admitted. And wasn’t that too damn bad. There had to be a little more . . . something before she stripped down, literally and figuratively, with a man.

She liked him, well enough, she thought as she tipped her head back and let the hot water beat on her face, her shoulders. She appreciated the way he’d reacted last spring when there’d been trouble, admired—now that she had the distance to look back—the way he’d leaped in without hesitation, without investment.

Some men would have run the other way, and would certainly have dismissed the idea of working for her, in a house haunted by what they now knew could be a dangerous spirit.

And well, she’d been charmed, really, at the way he’d been so flummoxed over buying a child’s gift—and how much he’d wanted to find the right thing. It was a point in his favor.

If she were keeping score.

If she wanted to dip her toe in the dating pool again, it would probably be with someone like him. Someone she could have conversations with, someone who attracted and interested her.

And it didn’t hurt that he was what Hayley termed a hottie.

Then again, look what happened last time.

It was a stupid woman who’d use anyone like Bryce as a yardstick. She knew that, so why couldn’t she stop? The fact that she was doing it was a sort of victory for Bryce, wasn’t it? If she could do nothing else about it, she could and would work on pushing him out of her thoughts.

Prick.

All right, she thought as she switched the water off again and reached for a towel. Maybe she’d consider—just consider—going out to dinner with Mitch. Just to prove to herself that she wasn’t letting Bryce affect her life in any way.

A little dinner out, some conversation, a mix of business and pleasure. That wouldn’t be so bad, when she drummed up the energy for it. She wouldn’t mind seeing him on a personal level. In fact, it might help all around if she got to know him better.

She’d think about it.

After wrapping the towel around her body, she reached automatically for her lotion. And her hand froze inches from the bottle.

Written in the steam of the bathroom mirror were two words.

Men Lie!

SIX

ROZ PUT MEN, family ghosts, and messages written in steam out of her mind. Her sons were home.

The house was full of them, their voices, their energy, their debris. Once, the piles of shoes, the hats, the things they’d leave scattered around had driven her slightly crazy. Now she loved seeing the evidence of them. Once, she’d longed for an ordered, quiet house, and now reveled in the noise and confusion.

They’d be gone soon enough, back to the lives they were building. So she would treasure every minute of the two days she had her family under one roof again.

And wasn’t it fun to see her sons with Stella’s boys, or watch Harper lift a fussy Lily and cuddle her in his arms? It made up for finding herself at the head of this mixed generational train.

“I want to thank you for letting Logan stay tonight.” Stella settled onto the sofa beside Roz.

“It’s Christmas Eve. We generally have room at the inn.”

“You know what I mean, and I know it’s probably fussy and anal and silly, but I really want our first Christmas in his— our —house to be when we’re official.”

“I think it’s sweet and sentimental, and selfishly I’m glad everyone’s here tonight.” She watched Hayley scoop Lily up as the baby made a crawling beeline for the tree. “Glad to have children in the house tonight. Austin!” she called out as her middle son began to juggle three apples he’d plucked out of a bowl. “Not in the parlor.”

“That tune’s so familiar, I can add the music.” A tall, narrow-hipped young man with his father’s wavy blond hair, he winked at Gavin while giving the apples one more rotation. “Not in the parlor, Austin, not in the parlor,” he sang, making Stella’s sons roll with laughter before he tossed them each an apple, and took a bite out of the third.

“Here, Mama, have some wine.” Her youngest, Mason, sat on the arm of the sofa and handed her a glass. There was a wicked twinkle in his blue eyes that warned Roz trouble was coming. “Austin, you know the parlor is sacred ground. You don’t want to be juggling in here. Especially something like, say, shoes.”

“You can juggle shoes!” Awestruck, Luke goggled at Austin.

“I can juggle anything. I have amazing talent and dexterity.”

“But sadly, I wasn’t able to talk him into running off and joining the circus when he was eight.” Harper took Lily when she leaned away from Hayley and held out her chubby arms to him.

“Can you juggle mine?” Luke asked.

“Hand one over.”

“Austin.” Resigned, Roz sighed and sipped her wine. “You break anything, you’re grounded.”

“Why, another familiar tune. Let’s see, I need a challenge. Logan, looks to me like that shoe’s big enough to house a family of four. Let’s have it.”

“I give you my shoe, you get grounded, I get fired. Call me a coward, but I’ll soon have two growing boys to feed.” He reached down to poke Gavin in the ribs. “And they eat like pigs.”

“Oink.” Showing off, Gavin grabbed a cookie from a tray and stuffed it whole in his mouth. “Oink.”

“Oh, go ahead, Logan.” Roz waved a hand. “He won’t be satisfied otherwise.”

“Let’s see, one more.” His gaze scanned, landed on Hayley. “Look at those pretty, delicate feet. How about it, sweetheart?”

Hayley laughed. “They’re about as delicate as banana boats.” But she slipped her shoe off.

“Harper, move your grandmother’s Baccarat there to safer ground,” Roz ordered, “so your brother can show off.”

“I prefer the term perform. ”

“I recall a performance that cost Mama a lamp,” Harper commented as he moved heirlooms. “And got all three of us—and you, too, David, if memory serves—KP duty.”

“In my salad days,” Austin claimed. After giving the trio of varied footwear a few testing tosses, he began to juggle. “As you can see, I’ve sharpened my skills since that regrettable incident.”

“Fortunate to have a fallback career,” Mason told him. “You can take that act down to Beale Street.”

The circling shoes had Lily giggling and bouncing on Harper’s hip. For herself, Roz just held her breath until Austin took his bow.

He tossed a shoe back to a delighted Luke. “Can you teach me?”

“Me, too!” Gavin insisted.

“She’s going to say ‘not in the parlor,’ ” Austin announced even as Roz opened her mouth. “We’ll work in a lesson tomorrow—outside—keep us all safe from Mama’s wrath.”

“She’s the boss of everybody,” Luke told him solemnly.

“No flies on you. Since nobody’s seen fit to throw money, I’ll have to settle for a beer.”

He strolled over to hand Logan his shoe, then walked to Hayley. “All right, Cinderella, let’s see if this fits.”

He made a production out of slipping it back on her foot, then grinned at Harper over Hayley’s head. “Shoe fits.” He took her hand, kissed it. “We’ll just have to get ourselves married when I get back from the kitchen.”

“That’s what they all say.” But she gave him a flirting sweep with her eyes.

“Why don’t you get me a beer while you’re at it?” Mason asked.

“If I’m taking orders, what can I get everyone?”

After a scatter of requests, he looked over at Harper again. “Why don’t you give me a hand fetching the supplies?”