Rosie at family gatherings and carefully filed away every detail he’d observed about her. Oh, yeah, he knew damn well.
After a few moments she said through the door, “Just go away and leave me alone.”
Steve turned his back, trying to shake the feeling that he’d slam-dunked a kitten. He ran a hand through his short hair. He’d done the job he’d been sent here to do. He was the hatchet man, not Dear Abby. He didn’t have to stay; the cabin was waiting. The Marchettis had offered him the use of the family vacation home in the mountains. He hadn’t gotten away in years and, after today, he was looking forward to the isolation more than ever. There was a good chance of snow since it was the middle of January. Holidays were over. Tourists would be gone. He could hardly wait. But he couldn’t walk out on Rosie just yet. Not until he got her the hell out of that bathroom and home to her mother.
He looked around the hotel suite, taking in the elegant understated decor. Matching cherrywood furniture polished to a perfect shine decorated the bedroom, parlor and dining area. The sofa, love seat, and accent chairs in shades of blue, green and mauve striped and floral patterns had been expertly coordinated by an interior designer. Expensive Stiffel brass lamps held court on all the tables. Who’d have guessed that a guy like him could even get into a place like this? The years had smoothed away the rough edges of the skinny, dirty kid he’d once been.
A kid who’d never laid eyes on his father. A kid whose mother had dumped him at a downtown L.A. bus station never to be heard from again. He’d wound up in the county home with other kids just like himself, angry and bitter. The odds said he should have gone to hell.
He heard a faucet running in the bathroom. Rosemarie Teresa Christina. Marchetti. He smiled. He’d beat the odds when a twist of fate had crossed his path with her brother Nick’s. They’d become best friends and the Marchettis had taken Steve under their wing.
He heard her moving around and his smile turned grim. He wasn’t sure which was worse: her self-imposed quarantine, or facing her when she came out. He wasn’t looking forward to the angry third-degree he knew she would give him. There was only one thing worse than that
Seeing her cry.
She hadn’t yet. As a matter of fact, she hadn’t said much, either. That zombie-like calm was so unlike her it made him nervous. As much as he dreaded the inevitable storm, it would be preferable to the silent treatment. He hated waiting for the other shoe to fall—or in this case, the flood of tears he knew was coming. He had to get her the hell home—to someone who could hold her when she cried.
The door behind him opened. He braced himself.
“Steve?”
“What?” He turned.
Her hands twisted together as she stared accusingly at him. She had changed out of her beige silk suit and looked just as pretty, maybe more so, in a denim jumper with a white T-shirt underneath. Her dark curly hair had been done up on top of her head for the wedding and was tumbling down now. He couldn’t help thinking it made her look as if she’d just come from a man’s bed. That thought was followed by a white-hot flash of desire, which he quickly pushed away.
He had learned a long time ago that it was easier if he didn’t think about Rosie that way. Most of the time he succeeded. Then, out of the blue—bam!—those feelings zapped him like a lightning bolt.
Nick had never said the exact words, but he had still made it clear that Steve was to think of her as a kid sister. That made her “hands off.” He had taken his protective role to a new level today, he thought. After what he’d done, she wasn’t going to any man’s bed, including his.
Especially his.
“Why did you do it?” she asked. “You could have said no.”
“To your mother?”
“No. Xena, Warrior Princess. Of course, my mother. When she asked you to submarine me, you could have told her you wouldn’t stoop that low.”
She was right. But he couldn’t manage to summon the guilt he knew he should feel. He had absolutely no regrets. He’d built a booming business and had made a lot of money by giving his corporate clients all the information they needed to keep from making a mistake. He’d never taken as much satisfaction from a job well done as he did now.
Rosie was a one-in-a-million woman.
She didn’t know it now, but she was better off alone than she would have been married to that twotiming jerk. Confronting Wayne without laying a hand on him had been one of the hardest things Steve had ever done. He’d wanted to punch Wayne’s lights out, especially when he’d started spouting lies about Rosie.
“Look, squirt, you know why I couldn’t say no.”
“I don’t.” She shook her head. “It’s easy. You open your mouth. It’s one tiny syllable. ‘No.’ Simple.”
“I owe your parents more than I can repay in a lifetime.”
“You already paid off the college loan,” she said. “With interest.”
“It’s not about money.”
“Okay. It’s about how when you were a kid my father caught you stealing from his restaurant and instead of calling the cops, he made you work.”
“You got it.”
She put her hands on her hips. “That doesn’t make you my parents’ lackey.”
He couldn’t help smiling. “‘Lackey’? Rosie, you’ve been reading too many books in that store of yours.”
“I’m serious, Steve. Maybe you like the word ‘flunky’ better? My folks gave you a helping hand. You don’t owe them your life’s blood forever. Your success is the only reward they want.”
He owed them everything. “I know they don’t expect anything.”
“But you sided with them.”
“I didn’t take sides, and it’s not a you-against-them situation.”
“No?” She caught her full bottom lip between her teeth.
The longer she talked, the more he thought maybe she’d already gotten the waterworks out of her system. He studied her. She didn’t look as though she’d been crying. Her turned-up nose wasn’t red. No blotches on her face. No wadded up tissue in her hand. Nope, the storm was still gaining momentum.
She looked troubled. And angry. Hell, why shouldn’t she? He’d just busted up her wedding. She would get over it. He took heart from the fact that when she’d listed everything she liked about Wayne, she’d never said she loved him. Although he didn’t like to think about it, she wouldn’t be alone for long. He hoped she chose the next guy more wisely. A girl like Rosie deserved the best.
“You’ve ruined everything,” she said, taking her makeup case from the bathroom and setting it on the love seat.
He stuck his hands into his jeans pockets. “It may seem that way now, but give it time. You’ll see—”
“All the time in the world won’t change what you’ve done. You’ve destroyed my life,” she said,
