Chapter Seven

 

 

Oh. My. God.

What had happened?

What the hell was that?

Moving as silently as she could—more silently than she’d realized she was capable—Rose slipped out of the bed. Ignoring modesty, she scooped clothing as she hurried, bare butt naked, from the room. Holding her breath, clutching the bundle against her chest, she stopped at the bedroom door just long enough to look back and make sure Sam was still asleep.

Oh, he was so gorgeous.

Pure, delicious masculine beauty.

Those muscles, that skin. The combination was like silk over granite. She wet her lips and gave herself as long as a heartbeat to regret leaving him.

Then she walked out and quietly shut the door.

And leaned against the wood, her clothes still clutched tight and her heart racing.

But her mind wouldn’t—couldn’t—settle. Too much had happened, so much she didn’t understand.

Deep breaths, she finally told herself. Deep breaths and get some damned clothes on.

So she sucked in one long slow breath and held it. She let it out and tried another. By the third, she was able to push away from the door and, clothes still clenched tight, stumble for the bathroom.

A part of her wanted to throw her stuff on and scurry out of the apartment before she saw Sam again. She could probably even get out of the café without having to face anyone. To just pretend it was all a dream.

But something inside her, something newly awoken in a flash of unexplained light, demanded that she face it with her eyes wide open.

So Rose bundled her hair high on her head and took a warm shower. She simply focused on the feel of the water sluicing over her skin instead of the thoughts and questions still circling. On the scent of verbena from the soap sliding like silk over her body instead of the fears sparked by those questions. She put all her thoughts on the air, warm with steam, as it filled her lungs instead of on vague memories.

Ten minutes later, dressed, tidy and ready to face the questions in her mind, she stepped out of the bathroom. And blinked in surprise. She’d figured Sam would be out here by now, waiting.

Instead, she frowned at the door she herself had closed. Was he still in there? He wouldn’t have just left the apartment, would he?

No. She might not be completely sure of what had happened, but she was positive that Sam had too much integrity to sneak out on her.

Which meant that she had however long it took until Sam came out to think things through.

To figure out what had happened.

She dropped onto the couch, letting her head fall back onto the fuzzy cushion, and closed her eyes.

And, now that her head was clear, opened her mind to the experience. Somehow it was easier to think about what had happened if it was dark.

Not the sex.

That she could happily relive—in her mind or in person—a million times over. That’d been incredible. Sam had been incredible. He’d made her feel incredible.

But not quite incredible enough to get past the rest of what had happened.

The glow. The rose petals. The shimmers dancing in the air. The feeling inside her, bigger than any orgasm. It’d overwhelmed her, engulfing them both with light. A light that’d fractured and exploded with her climax. She’d opened her eyes, hoping to see the light, and instead had watched as more rose petals had rained down from the ceiling to cover their bodies.

As much as she’d like to think that Sam had caused the lights, the flowers, the sensations, she knew she could only lay the orgasms at his feet.

The rest had been her.

She didn’t know how, but she knew she’d been the cause of those weird happenings.

Nerves clenched at her stomach as she tugged her hair free in order to comb her fingers through the tresses as if that’d straighten out her tangled thoughts.

Maybe Sam’s own words could help her figure it out.

Rose tried to remember where he’d tossed that notepad. The small table by his chair, she thought, pushing up to cross the room and check. Yes, there it was. She pulled the pages from the drawer and settled back on the couch to see if she could find a clue as to what had happened.

She yanked the wrinkled pages free, smiling a little as she read over a few of the sexy ideas he’d listed. They hadn’t gotten to all of them, by any means. She tilted her head to one side to inspect the clever little drawing he’d sketched. He wasn’t much of an artist, but she had no problem recognizing the various positions in his artwork.

Mmm, she had a feeling that sixty-nine could become her favorite number if they gave that a try.

Giving herself over to the pleasure of imagining that for a second, she set the torn pages aside. Her gaze fell on the rest of Sam’s notes.

Leah and Stephen.

Bring Rose to Coeur d’Alene by Valentine’s Day.

Save friends.

Needs to be free from Millicent’s clutches.

What the hell?

Rose’s smile dropped away as the words sank in.

She might not be able to explain the magic or where it’d come from, how it’d happened.

But she could recognize what the words on this paper meant.

Even as her breath locked in her chest, as tears burned her eyes, she knew.

Sam was using her.

 

 

Staring at the closed bedroom door, Sam adjusted the pillows behind his head. His body was about as loose and satisfied as it could get, but he was still frowning.

When Rose had slid from the bed, he’d expected her to grab her clothes and race out of the room.

He’d been right.

He’d figured it’d be two, three minutes, tops, before he’d hear the front door snick closed.

Instead, he’d heard the shower.

When the water shut off, he’d been sure it’d take her maybe ten minutes to dress, do whatever tidying women did after a shower, then head out the door.

Instead, he’d heard her getting comfortable in the living room. He’d heard a drawer open and close. Even as his mind registered the sound, an alarm blared in his mind.

Shit.

He threw off the sheet and flew to his feet.

Shit, damn, hell.

Sam grabbed his jeans, hopping from foot to foot, yanking them on as he raced for the door. He managed to stop himself long enough to button his pants before he turned that knob, but was still verging on breathless when he stepped out the door.

“Hello.” Rose’s greeting dripped ice. Fitting, since her expression was as frosty as a winter morning.

“Hi.” He tried charm first, amping up his smile and crossing to give her a kiss in the cheek. He was glad his lips didn’t freeze to flesh, but the cold chill was enough to put him off his stride. At least, that was his excuse for blurting out an inane, “How’re you doing?”

Duh. She was obviously pissed.

The question was, why?

He had a pretty good idea, but hoping he was wrong, he kept his smile in place and dove right in.

“You seem a little out of sorts.”

“Do I?” She tilted her head to one side. Although her hair fanned down her arm like a golden blanket, she didn’t get any warmer. “Do I really?”

Yep. She really did. Sam looked around for evidence, but although the room looked just as bizarre as always, he didn’t see any clues.

“Are you going to explain why you’re angry?”

“Why did you take so long to come out?” she asked instead of answering.

“To tell you the truth, I was drowning in stunned pleasure for a while,” he said, hoping for a smile. He got a chilly stare. “Then I guess I was wondering how you’d react when I saw you. I went back and forth between the idea of you throwing yourself in my arms to confessing that was the best sex you’d ever had, or you being pissed about it.”

He waited a beat before shrugging and dropping into a chair.

“Looks like I was right.”

“About that being the best sex I’ve ever had?”

God, he hoped so. Because it’d been the best he’d ever had.

“About you being pissed. Thankfully, you’re doing it the smart way.”

She blinked.

“There’s a smart way to be angry?”

“Sure there is. Smart anger means you’re mad and you feel pretty solid on your reasons to be mad. But you’re not storming out of the room without listening. You’re not throwing things at my head and cussing the air blue. Those would be bad.”

“And that matters, why?”

“Because you matter, Rose,” he admitted, one hundred percent sincere.

“Because whatever led us in there,” he pointed to the bedroom, “that matters. Because this feeling we’ve got between us matters. Because I know you. I care about you—probably more than is good for me here—but I care about you. I want what’s best for you. Which means that while you have every right to be angry over whatever has you upset, I’m glad that you’re not so angry that you won’t give us a chance to set it right.”

From the way she tilted her chin and crossed her arms over her chest, she definitely looked like she was reconsidering the idea of throwing things at him. Sam held his breath, waiting.

“Tell me about this,” she finally said, reaching over to pull the notepad he’d been writing in out from under a pillow. She pointed it at him like a weapon. From the way sparks of light shot from it, he knew it just might be one if he didn’t handle things right.

“I told you I use writing as an exercise,” he said slowly, looking into her eyes and baring his own in hopes that she’d see the truth there. “I call it a brain dump. I write everything that’s in my head, anything I’m concerned about, all my plans or hopes or thoughts down in no particular form. Then once it’s all out of my mind, I am able to take a step back and find the right path, the answers I need.”

Rose gave him a long look, then rolled her eyes.

“I know what a brain dump is. I knew what you meant when you called all your sex ideas a writing exercise. What I want to know is what all this is here about Leah and Stephen. What is your connection is with my mother’s parents and how does that play into what you’re doing here. What does it have to do with what we did in there.”

“What we did in there,” Sam echoed her gesture toward the bedroom, “has nothing to do with anyone except you and me. Set that aside from the rest.”

He waited for that to sink in, for her to give him a reluctant nod of agreement, then he continued.

“So, the rest.” He took a breath, wanting to make sure he said it all right. This was his only chance to convince her to come back, to do what was right. Not just for her family, but for her, too. “I’ve talked about the town often enough that I’m sure you know that I’m from Coeur d’Alene. It’s a great town filled with amazing people. Two of those people are Leah and Stephen MacBriar.”

“You’re friends with my grandparents,” Rose confirmed. “Setting aside the fact that you’ve never mentioned that before, what does that friendship have to do with you being here?”

“I didn’t hide my friendship with the MacBriars. I do book signings and events in their store all the time. They’re great people that I care about a lot. People who care about you, Rose. Who want to know you, who were heartbroken when your mother insisted they stay out of your life.”

“She said they were a bad influence.”

“Because they’re magic.”

Rose opened her mouth as if to protest, then sighed.

“Tell me.”

So Sam told her everything he knew. The story of her parents’ whirlwind romance. Of her father’s fear of the magic, her mother’s need to fit in with everyone else. He told her what Stephen had said about Leah’s heartbreak when Effe had taken Rose away and demanded they stay out of her life. He shared more about the town, about the magic there. Finally, he explained about Leah breaking her hip, the trouble the store was having, and how Rose’s grandparents needed her help.

Finally, out of words and out of breath, he stopped. And waited.

“Okay,” Rose finally said. “A lot of what you’re saying fits with stories my mother told me, and once you add the magic element, it all makes sense.”

“But?” Because there was a clear but in her words.

“But I don’t know why you weren’t up front with me. Why didn’t you just tell me all this from the get go?”

Wow. Sam’s shoulders unclenched because she was taking this all so much better than he’d thought she would. He smiled as he continued his explanation.

“I didn’t say anything before because I came here first and foremost to help you with that game. Once you nailed the storyline, you could finish the game and quit Black Magic free and clear.”

Rose’s face slowly tightened, anger and shock dawning loud and clear.

“You expect me to quit my job? To leave Black Magic and incur my mother’s wrath to follow you to some crazy town filled with people who believe magic is real?”

“Isn’t it?”

Looking like she wanted to argue that point, Rose pushed to her feet and paced the room. Finally, she shook her head.

“It’s not that simple. The Faire family helped put me through college. They let me apprentice at Black Magic, they gave me my start. I owe them. Owed them.”

“You put that company on the map, it was your game that launched them out of obscurity. I’d say your debt is paid.”

“That’s your opinion,” she said agreeably. “But in this case, it’s my opinion that matters.”

Sam had to grind his teeth to bite back his response, but finally he was able to just shrug. Because she was right. Her choice here was the only one that mattered. The only one that’d make a difference.

“Fine. Finish this game. Then what? Are you going to stay there, working for someone like Millicent? Or are you going to finally live for yourself? If you do, where will you go? What will you do?”

He wanted to push. He wanted to beg. But all he could do was ask.

“Your grandparents want to meet you. They need to see you. For a hundred reasons, but most of all because you mean a lot to them and they’d like to be a part of your life.” Just like he would. “Are you going to give them a chance? Are you going to visit Coeur d’Alene?”

She shook her head.

“I don’t know. I need to figure this all out. It’s too confusing, everything is happening all of a sudden. Especially this thing. This magic or power or whatever it is going on inside me. I don’t even understand what it is.”

“It’s magic. I recognize it, even if it’s not my gift.” Sam lifted his hands in frustration. “I’m not a witch. I know witches, I’ve spent my life surrounded by power. But my gift is in words, not in magic.”

“And my grandparents?”

“They have power. And more, knowledge. They can help you understand it. They can show you how to hone it or use it or, if you choose, release it.”

Sam held his breath after sharing those last words, terrified that would be the choice she’d make. To release her magic, to refuse her family. And to walk away from him.

 

 

Rose rubbed her fingers over her forehead, wishing she could massage away the confusion throbbing there. Even as she took a long, deep breath, hoping it’d smooth the confusion, an intoxicatingly mystical fragrance filled her lungs. It stirred the energy in her belly, awakening those seeds of power again.

Having tasted it, could she walk away? Could she live the rest of her life never touching the magic again?

And Sam. Could she walk away never having him again? Never talking with him, never hearing his stories? Never feeling his body delighting hers?

But the cost was so high.

Choosing Sam, choosing this magic meant turning her back on her mother’s wishes. It meant giving up her job. It meant going back to a town she didn’t remember to meet family she didn’t know.

Could she do that?

She didn’t know. It was all so confusing.

And she was afraid.

Of the power. Of the man. And yes, even of the feelings welling inside of her. They were all too huge.

“Why did you do this?” she asked, her heart aching with the weight of all those expectations. “Why did you open this door inside of me?”

“I didn’t intend to,” he confessed with a grimace. “Why would I open you to something I can’t help with?”

“Why, indeed.” Rose didn’t know the answer to that. But she did have a lifetime of being manipulated, of being pushed into doing others bidding. Whether he’d meant to or not, Sam was making her feel just as cornered.

“Give your grandparents a chance. Give me a chance,” Sam insisted. “Now that you’ve felt the power, now that you know the truth, how can you stay here?”

“Because here I have responsibilities.”

“To who? Your mother? She’ll still be there afterward. And if you mean to Millicent, how is she worth your loyalty?”

“How are you any better?” she snapped, pushing to her feet to storm her way around the room. “How are you any different?”

“Maybe because I had your best interests at heart,” Sam shot back, on his feet now, too and filled with righteous fury.

“Funny. My mother always said that, too. That she was only thinking of me. Of what was best for our future. My future.”

“What about our future, Rose? What about this thing between us? There’s no way in hell you’re going to tell me that was just some sexual game in there. That it didn’t mean something to you. We have something between us. Something special. Something real.”

That’s what scared her.

Because what they had between them was bigger, stronger, than anything she’d ever felt before. If the magic could change her world, her feelings for Sam could destroy it.

Why should she risk either?

“Don’t stay here, Rose. Even if you aren’t willing to open your heart to your family, don’t waste your life, your talent and your loyalty on someone as evil and malicious as Millicent Faire.”

He made it sound so simple. So black and white. But Rose knew there was too much involved to simply choose. She had too much to lose to just walk away. But Sam wasn’t going to let it go. She knew he’d push and push until he’d shoved her into the corner of his choosing.

“I owe Black Magic. And I owe Millicent,” Rose finally said, her face tight with anger. “And no matter how much you might pretend to be a hero, sweeping in to save me, I don’t need saved. So back off, Prince Charming.”

With that and a final glare, Rose grabbed her messenger bag and strode to the door. Just before she slammed it shut, she shot him a look over her shoulder to add, “I don’t need your help. And I don’t need anyone—not even you—deciding what I should do with my life.”