A Loving Man by Cait London Page B

probably make mistakes on the cash register tomorrow because I’ll be tired. Dad and the other men in town are too busy riding their bicycles with your mother. So let’s just clean up all the muck and I’ll be on my way.”
    Stefan’s large hand encircled her wrist. “You’re not going anywhere. Do you think I like this…this lack of control with you? With you, it is natural to love. With me, it is difficult to show those feelings and yet, when I see you—touch you—”
    “Well,” Rose said, trying to help Stefan deal with his emotions, “there are some people who are talkers, and there are others who show their feelings by actions—take for example, how you moved your life to Waterville, to keep your mother and daughter happy.”
    She patted his knee again. “You’re a man of action, Stefan, and that might be more important than words. You express yourself in cooking, putting all those tender little touches to the basil leaves and the patés. I’m a fried chicken and potato salad girl and sugar-in-iced-tea myself, but I see how much of yourself you invest in cooking and the presentation. There’s always that little flourish, as if you can’t resist leaving your work.”
    “Always so kind,” he murmured darkly as he studied her hand on his knee, taking it into his own and placing it over his heart.
    The hard beat jarred Rose, traveled straight up her arm and into her body. She stared at him, her senses humming, echoing the heat between them. “Come up to my apartment, Rose,” he whispered unevenly. “We can discuss all this there.”
    “Just us?”
    He brought her hand up to his lips and sucked her fingers gently. Over their hands, his eyes were dark and soft and warm. “Just us,” he repeated huskily.

Six
    S tefan watched Rose roam through the modern apartment living room, used for private meetings. He stayed in the corporate building, rather than reopen the Donatien home, because he had every intention of returning to Waterville as soon as his business was finished. In the short time he’d been there, he’d never known such peace, and then there was Rose.
    She softened the apartment’s sterile decor, her shoulder-length hair catching reddish lights from the sunlight passing through the ceiling-high windows. Always in motion, she touched the sprawling leather couch, skimming her hand over the smooth surface. Everything about her was feminine and graceful and soft. She took in the chrome-framed abstract paintings, and studied the gleaming ultra-modern kitchen. Rose glanced at her wristwatch. “Let’s get this over with. I’ve got a plane to catch and just enough time to tell you off. Do not come near me with those lips. ”
    His lips still tasted of her, his body hardened and ached to hold her long, lithe one close. She’d taken the bait and had come to him. Now he was angry with himself for trying to control her and their relationship. He’d been selfish in his needs, and he didn’t like that image of himself; he usually placed his needs after his family’s and the business’s. “You look tired. Would you like to have a nap before dinner?”
    She shook her head. “You’re very busy. I won’t keep you. And you don’t look so hot yourself.”
    “I have had difficulty sleeping. I missed you. I need you in my bed.” He regretted rapping out his emotions as though they were corporate plans. His uncertainty weighed heavily upon him, while his senses told him to go to her, hold her and tell her more gently of the rigid man losing control. Stefan closed his eyes momentarily— he was feeling delicate, a man awash with frustration, desire and much softer emotions.
    For just a heartbeat, Rose met his intent gaze and then looked away to the city below, a blush quickly rising on her cheeks. “This won’t do, Stefan. You can’t just tell me things like that.”
    Of course not. I should have— But in the land of uncertainty, Stefan opted for a direct approach. He had to tell her what he’d