A Ring for Rosie. Maggie Wells
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of her coat. Once again, vanity had led her down the primrose path. But her down-filled puffy jacket looked silly on top of a pencil skirt, and the lining on her trusty trench coat was no match for a Windy City winter. Clutching the lapels together, she gulped icy air and nearly choked on the frigid lungful.
As soon as she caught her breath again, she smiled. “Hey.”
“God, Rosie, you are the best.” A whoosh of vapor trailed after him as his long strides ate the ice-crusted pavement between them. He came straight at her, his arms extended, and she braced herself for the hug. Not because his embrace wasn’t welcome, but because it would never be what she dreamed being held by James could be. Lord help her, she stepped right into the hug anyway.
But before she could tip her face up and away, his lips touched down. Not on her cheek or her forehead, temple, or any of the other seemingly innocuous places a kiss could land. No, he kissed her mouth. Square on the mouth. Not at the corner or slightly off on the chin. This kiss wasn’t one of those head-turning mishaps she may or may not have attempted to orchestrate over the years. No, James Harper was kissing her freely and willingly.
On. The. Mouth.
An honest to goodness kiss, if a brief one.
Her euphoria turned to mortification when she noticed the saucer-like circumference of his bright blue eyes as he straightened. The kiss might not have been an accident, but judging by the shock on his face, he hadn’t actually planned to. But he did.
She was about to tell him he couldn’t take it back when James gave a great full-body shake. Like a dog shedding water. Or a man shaking off the vestiges of an unsettling dream. He blinked once, then took a hasty step back. Unfortunately, his heel caught a patch of ice. She stumbled back as he flailed for balance. He slapped a hand against the side of the car to catch himself, and she pressed her gloved fingertips to her lips. Not so much to catch her gasp, but to trap the tingling sensation he’d left behind.
James regained his equilibrium before she did. The grin he flashed was heart-achingly familiar, though the happiness didn’t quite reach his eyes. Even in the golden glow of the streetlight, she could see him struggling to cover his discomfiture.
For once in her life, Rosie didn’t feel compelled to make it any easier on him. She hadn’t asked him to kiss her. As a matter of fact, she’d been doing him a favor by picking up the twins before his mother, who watched his sons during the day, had to leave for one of her many club meetings. Rosie managed many facets of James Harper’s life, but who he kissed and when was entirely on him. She stared straight at him, unwilling to let him off the hook without some kind of explanation for the unusual greeting.
But rather than doling out explanations, he offered her a ride. “Get in.” He nodded to the opposite side of the car. “It’s freezing out here.”
Unwilling to let him see how happy she was to comply with his officious tone, she tipped her chin up and tried not to envision icicles hanging off her nose. “Actually, below zero. We left freezing behind a long time ago.”
Her smartassed retort seemed to reanimate him. Rolling his eyes, he pressed a hand to her elbow, careful to keep her at arm’s length, and propelled her around the rear of the SUV. “Thank you for the weather report. You missed your calling.”
“And here I thought scheduling your dental cleanings was the most fulfilling work a woman could do.”
He snorted as he opened the passenger door. “As if you’d schedule anything less than a full-blown root canal.”
Rosie smiled as she slid into the warm cabin of the car. She’d was clear early on to James and his partners, Colm and Mike, she’d be happy to handle their professional scheduling, and didn’t mind making personal appointments to fit their busy schedules. But she categorically refused to pick up anyone’s dry cleaning. Which was only right. She was an employee, not their mother. Or wife. Or even girlfriend. Though she fantasized about the latter more than was healthy.
James closed the door with a firm thunk, and she turned to beam at the twins. Playing things cool was out of the question. She had only a few precious seconds before the man himself slid behind the wheel. In that moment, a stunningly surreal moment, she found she was physically unable to contain the thrill of being kissed by James Harper at last.
“I’m back. Did you miss me?”
“Yes,” Jeff answered in all sincerity.
“Are you comin’ home wif us?” Jamie asked as his father threw himself into the driver’s seat and tossed his messenger bag onto the rear floorboard. “Is Rosie comin’ home wif us?”
James spared the rearview mirror only the most cursory glance. “We’re giving Rosie a ride to her house.” He darted a look in her general direction but failed to make actual eye contact. “It’s too cold for her to stand at the bus stop.”
Rosie frowned as she wriggled into the heated seat, willing the warmth to seep through the layers and penetrate down to her bones. She was raised a city girl, not a spoiled suburbanite like James. She stood at the bus stop almost every night, even on nights much colder than this one, and he never made a point of giving her a lift before. Maybe something really was changing between them.
Pursing her lips, she tried to ignore the lingering tingle on them and stared straight ahead as the boys in the back seat regaled their father with the day’s exploits. Having been privy to the initial report, Rosie let her focus soften until the bright lights and gritty grime of the city streets melded into a blur.
She’d sensed a shift in James in the months since the other Trident partners had paired off. Colm and his finance whiz girlfriend, Monica, were finally reaching a point where their relationship seemed more like a partnership than two stubborn people trying to wrangle one of Doctor Dolittle’s pushmi-pullyus. And Mike—straight-laced, skittish Mike—had run headlong into love with a baker who specialized in producing erotic edibles for bachelor and bachelorette parties and the like. They were an unlikely duo on the surface, but within five minutes of seeing them together, it was easy to tell they were a forever thing.
James was the odd man out. Not a position Mr. Center-of-the-Universe was used to holding.
“And then he kickded her,” Jamie crowed, interrupting his minutes-younger brother’s recitation of a playgroup skirmish.
She looked over in time to see James’s head pop up and his eyes narrow as he glared into the mirror. “You kicked her?” he demanded.
Rosie turned back and saw Jeffie blanch at the sharp edge in his father’s voice. He shrank into his booster seat, then whispered a plaintive, “No,” almost inaudibly.
Eager to set the record straight and protect the shyer, more sensitive Jeff from his cocksure brother and father, she tapped her memory banks for the facts as they’d been relayed in the original version. “No, Hunter kicked Elise,” she clarified. She swiveled in her seat until she could look Jeff square in the eye. “Jeff told Hunter to stop pushing her, didn’t you?”
“Yes,” he lisped.
James blinked, then blushed as he glanced somewhere in the direction of Rosie’s handbag. “Oh. Right. Good job, man.” He turned to look at the slowly unfurling boy.
Conversation resumed, but this time Jamie took the controls. A typical firstborn, he often seemed more assured of his place in the world—if one could say so about a boy barely past his fourth birthday.
Her job as moderator temporarily on hold, Rosie gave Jeff a reassuring wink, then settled back into her seat. A sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach anchored her there. She angled her head enough to appear as if she was gazing out the passenger window. But she was aware of James’s every movement. Oh, no. Heaven forbid she cease her constant vigilance. What if this was the moment he chose to finally open his eyes and realize she was everything right and good for him. And the boys. If, by some minor miracle the phenomenon was to occur, she couldn’t chance missing a second of it.
The traffic gods were kind them, the dirty bastards. If