Chapter One
S unlight glinted off the solitaire
diamond engagement ring and fractured into a thousand rainbows that
danced over the walls and ceiling. Heedless of the display, Sam
Watson juggled the hotel phone between his ear and shoulder. “What
do you mean, the roses haven’t arrived? I ordered them last
month.”
“ We’re looking into the situation now, Mr. Watson,” the
concierge responded. “We’re working with the florist to locate them
and they’ll be in your room by the time you return
tonight.”
Sam
pinched the bridge of his nose, mentally running through his
checklist. What else could go wrong? “You understand I want
everything to be perfect tonight, right? It’s not just about the
roses. I want the champagne chilling in the ice bucket, the music
cued up, candles ready to be lit. It’s gotta be perfect, you hear
me?”
Unlike
the last three times he’d planned to propose, only to have his
plans go awry. Rosie deserved perfect and if it killed him, he’d
give her the perfect memory. The perfect proposal.
“ Yes, sir. I’ll personally ensure everything is exactly as
you’ve requested, even if I have to go out and purchase the roses
myself.”
“ Make sure they’re red roses. Not pink. Not white. Red.” To
match his favorite shade of her lipstick.
“ Yes, sir. All I need from you now is an approximate time
you’ll be returning so we can be set up and out of your
way.”
Now
there was a problem. Every member of the Ramos family could talk
the ears off a concrete elephant. A regular dinner generally lasted
two hours—a birthday dinner might last until dawn. The way his luck
was running lately, he hedged his bet. “Set it up before six.”
Dinner shouldn’t be cooked and eaten before then, he doubted. “That
way we won’t walk in on your staff and ruin the surprise. And call
me if you can’t get the damned roses.”
After
another assurance from the concierge that all would be done
according to plan, he hung up the phone. Good thing too, because at
some point during the call the shower had shut off. He closed the
small blue box and slipped it back into his coat pocket moments
before Rosie emerged. As it did every time she walked into a room,
his whole body went on alert, needing to claim her.
A drop
of water slid from the tip of one dark curl and over the curve of
her breast before disappearing into the towel she’d tucked into her
cleavage. Damned lucky towel.
Some of
their clients had thought her natural sensuality, along with petite
stature, made her less effective as a bodyguard. At least until he
explained that those qualities made her less likely to scare the
bejesus out of a client’s kids or pass undetected by anyone
expecting to see a six-foot-six behemoth like himself. After that,
he’d have Rosie give them a demonstration by taking him down with a
quick-and-dirty leg sweep, or show them the results of her last
shooting competition.
A
second, then a third droplet followed the path of the first. He
skimmed a finger over her skin, tracing the path the water droplets
had taken to the edge of the towel.
“ Well, were you?”
“ Was I what?” Was the towel slipping? If it wasn’t, it should.
A slight tug should be enough to—
The
single finger tilting his chin until he met her eyes made him
focus, as did the impatient tapping of her tiny foot.
“Saa-am…”
Uh-oh,
she was getting that tone in her voice. She’d said something, but
damned if he knew what. “Sorry. I got distracted. What did you
ask?”
She
clamped a hand across her bosom, which only served to press the
soft mounds until a hint of cinnamon nipple peeked over the terry.
With her free hand she made a V with her fingers and aimed them at
her face in an unspoken “eyes up here, buddy” command.
After a
brief internal struggle he managed to wrench his gaze back to her
face. Her narrowed eyes told him she knew exactly what had
distracted him.
“ I asked—”she enunciated every syllable, drawing
S unlight glinted off the solitaire
diamond engagement ring and fractured into a thousand rainbows that
danced over the walls and ceiling. Heedless of the display, Sam
Watson juggled the hotel phone between his ear and shoulder. “What
do you mean, the roses haven’t arrived? I ordered them last
month.”
“ We’re looking into the situation now, Mr. Watson,” the
concierge responded. “We’re working with the florist to locate them
and they’ll be in your room by the time you return
tonight.”
Sam
pinched the bridge of his nose, mentally running through his
checklist. What else could go wrong? “You understand I want
everything to be perfect tonight, right? It’s not just about the
roses. I want the champagne chilling in the ice bucket, the music
cued up, candles ready to be lit. It’s gotta be perfect, you hear
me?”
Unlike
the last three times he’d planned to propose, only to have his
plans go awry. Rosie deserved perfect and if it killed him, he’d
give her the perfect memory. The perfect proposal.
“ Yes, sir. I’ll personally ensure everything is exactly as
you’ve requested, even if I have to go out and purchase the roses
myself.”
“ Make sure they’re red roses. Not pink. Not white. Red.” To
match his favorite shade of her lipstick.
“ Yes, sir. All I need from you now is an approximate time
you’ll be returning so we can be set up and out of your
way.”
Now
there was a problem. Every member of the Ramos family could talk
the ears off a concrete elephant. A regular dinner generally lasted
two hours—a birthday dinner might last until dawn. The way his luck
was running lately, he hedged his bet. “Set it up before six.”
Dinner shouldn’t be cooked and eaten before then, he doubted. “That
way we won’t walk in on your staff and ruin the surprise. And call
me if you can’t get the damned roses.”
After
another assurance from the concierge that all would be done
according to plan, he hung up the phone. Good thing too, because at
some point during the call the shower had shut off. He closed the
small blue box and slipped it back into his coat pocket moments
before Rosie emerged. As it did every time she walked into a room,
his whole body went on alert, needing to claim her.
A drop
of water slid from the tip of one dark curl and over the curve of
her breast before disappearing into the towel she’d tucked into her
cleavage. Damned lucky towel.
Some of
their clients had thought her natural sensuality, along with petite
stature, made her less effective as a bodyguard. At least until he
explained that those qualities made her less likely to scare the
bejesus out of a client’s kids or pass undetected by anyone
expecting to see a six-foot-six behemoth like himself. After that,
he’d have Rosie give them a demonstration by taking him down with a
quick-and-dirty leg sweep, or show them the results of her last
shooting competition.
A
second, then a third droplet followed the path of the first. He
skimmed a finger over her skin, tracing the path the water droplets
had taken to the edge of the towel.
“ Well, were you?”
“ Was I what?” Was the towel slipping? If it wasn’t, it should.
A slight tug should be enough to—
The
single finger tilting his chin until he met her eyes made him
focus, as did the impatient tapping of her tiny foot.
“Saa-am…”
Uh-oh,
she was getting that tone in her voice. She’d said something, but
damned if he knew what. “Sorry. I got distracted. What did you
ask?”
She
clamped a hand across her bosom, which only served to press the
soft mounds until a hint of cinnamon nipple peeked over the terry.
With her free hand she made a V with her fingers and aimed them at
her face in an unspoken “eyes up here, buddy” command.
After a
brief internal struggle he managed to wrench his gaze back to her
face. Her narrowed eyes told him she knew exactly what had
distracted him.
“ I asked—”she enunciated every syllable, drawing
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