Page 12 of No Red Roses

  A frown creased Tamara's brow. "I have the ingre­dients to blend the liniment, but it needs heat to be really effective. Do you have a heating pad or an elec­tric blanket?"

  "Better than that," Rex replied promptly. "My bath­room has a built-in sauna. Will that do?"

  She nodded, relieved. "As you say, it will be much better. Do you think you can make it to the sauna if we help you?"

  He nodded. "You run along and mix up your magic ointment. Scotty can help me undress and get me into the sauna before he goes to bed."

  Tamara smiled eagerly, and placing his head with tender care on the floor, leaped to her feet and hurried from the kitchen.

  Her herb bag was lying beside her unpacked suit­cases in a corner of the room, and she snatched it up and rifled through it quickly for the ingredients she needed. She frowned as she noticed she was low on benzoin, but perhaps if she added extra bay leaf it wouldn't matter. She hurried back to the kitchen and blended the herbs carefully, adding a bit of cooking oil she found in a cabinet, and then heated the mixture slowly over a low flame.

  After pouring the warm ointment into a bowl, she grabbed several clean dish towels from a drawer and hurried quickly through Rex's bedroom into the bathroom. She'd been so furious and upset when she entered the room earlier that she hadn't noticed anything but the sunken tub. Now she realized the huge room contained not only a shower stall but also a small, birch compartment that must be the sauna.

  She quickly stripped off her robe and nightgown and wrapped a huge, white, bath towel sarong-like about her body. Carefully balancing the bowl and towels, she opened the heavy birch door and entered, pausing just inside the door while her eyes adjusted to the dimness. The sauna was lit by a single red bulb that cast a rosy glow and she could see only dimly the benches bordering the birch walls. In the center of the room was a large metal container filled with white-hot coals and a small regulator faucet that sent waves of dry heat through the small compartment.

  "Over here!" Rex called, and she followed his voice to the far side of the room. As she drew within a few feet of him, she stopped abruptly. He was lying full length on his stomach on one of the wide benches, and he was totally nude!

  She supposed she should have expected it. It would obviously be more practical if she were to treat him, and she'd realized this afternoon that Rex had no inhibitions regarding nudity. It was just that it hadn't occurred to her. She allowed her gaze to trail lov­ingly over long, muscular legs dusted lightly with dark hair, to the tight buttocks and slim, taut waist and then up to the broad, powerful shoulders. How beautiful he was, she thought dreamily.

  "Tamara?" Rex turned his head to look at her, and she came immediately to her senses. She moved forward briskly and seated herself beside him.

  "I’ll try not to hurt you," she said quietly, setting the towels on the floor and dipping her hand in the oily liniment.

  For long, silent minutes she soothingly massaged the ointment into the muscles of his shoulders and upper back. Then she started on his lower spine and the hard, corded muscles of his buttocks. She derived an almost sensual pleasure out of the play of muscles between her fingers, and the occasional low grunt of contentment that Rex emitted when she managed to ease a particular pain.

  She finally reached down for a towel to wipe her hands and said, "We'll let that ointment bake in for ten minutes and then I'll do it one more time."

  His eyes opened lazily. "This bench is damnably hard," he said. "Would you hold my head on your lap?"

  She drew a deep breath and felt a sudden, fluid languor in every limb. "Of course." She moved to the end of the bench and took his head on her lap.

  He moved his head uncomfortably and then swiftly rolled over on his side to bury his face in her belly. "That's better," he said contentedly. "You smell so sweet. I don't think I know that perfume."

  She could feel his warm mouth move through the towel across her stomach, and she found it hard to answer. "I blend it myself," she said faintly. "It's a combination of gardenia and distilled cinnamon."

  "I like it," he muttered, his teeth nibbling deli­cately at the soft flesh of her thigh where the towel ended.

  She gave a shaky laugh. "I'm glad you approve."

  He suddenly stopped his playful nibbling and turned his head to look up into her face, his dark gaze holding hers effortlessly, his face almost solemn. "It's happening, isn't it?" he asked quietly. "You're going to let me love you."

  She looked down at him tenderly, noting the shad­ows his lashes made on his strong, masculine face. The rosy lighting turned his silky hair an even darker shade. The mint-scented heat, the intimate silence broken only by the occasional hiss of water on the hot coals, the glow that turned the room into an erotic other world, all combined to bring about a dreamy lassitude that completely banished her de­fenses.

  "Yes, I think I am," she said huskily, leaning her head back against the birch wall.

  "Tonight?"

  She chuckled. "No, not tonight. You can barely move."

  "Tomorrow?" His lips were once more brushing lazily against her belly and a flash of fire shot through her.

  "Three days," she said firmly. "You need to rest."

  He sighed. "If you think I’ll be able to sleep for the next three nights, you're insane." He looked up with little-boy wistfulness. "You're sure you won't change your mind?"

  "I'm sure," she said with a low laugh.

  Abruptly a dark frown clouded his face. "Why now?" he asked. "Are you feeling sorry for me?"

  "No, I don't feel sorry for you," she said softly.

  "Then why?"

  Because I love you, she thought. Because when I looked at you lying on that kitchen floor white and hurt, I knew I'd love you for the rest of my life.

  "Why do you think?" she parried evasively.

  His eyes danced with mischief. "Because you suddenly realized how utterly irresistible I am?"

  "Right the first time." She smoothed the dark satin of his hair with a tender hand. "You've com­pletely swept me off my feet."

  "Did you like your song?" he asked lazily, his hand reaching up to toy with the tuck of the towel across her breast.

  "I loved my song," she said throatily, her eyes misting. "It was the most beautiful gift anyone could ever receive."

  "Well, you wouldn't take the necklace." He looked up, his dark eyes hopeful. "Will you . . . ?"

  "No, I will not take the necklace," she said firmly.

  "Oh, all right," he grumbled. "You're certainly a stubborn wench."

  His toying hand suddenly gave the towel a tug that brought it slipping to her waist, baring her breasts. Tamara gave a cry of surprise. She felt his upper body rise and then looked down to watch him nip at her pink nipple.

  "I guess you've noticed that I'm a breast man." Rex chuckled mischievously, and quickly suckled at one breast, while toying with the other nipple until it was a hard button beneath his fingers. She moaned, a little breathless.

  His voice was hoarse and shaking as his lips left her breast and he muttered, "I'm suddenly feeling much stronger, sweetheart."

  Tamara looked down into his face, which was taut­ened into a beautiful sensuality. He rested on his elbow. She drew a shuddering breath and, grabbing her towel, stood up. "You'll feel even better after I apply this second treatment," she said briskly. "Now roll over!"

  He obediently rolled over onto his stomach, but when she pulled the towel up over her breasts again, he protested.

  "Don't! I like to look at you."

  She was still for a long moment, then dropped the towel and fastened it about her waist. She decided she liked him to look at her, too. She began the gentle massage of his lower back as he continued to study her.

  "Not tonight?"

  "Not tonight," she answered quietly, dipping her hands into the ointment again and going to work on his shoulders.

  "Tamara?"

  She looked up inquiringly.

  "You're sure, aren't you?" he asked softly. "In three d
ays you'll let me love you?"

  She tore her eyes away from the deep intensity of his. "I'm sure."

  "In three days well be in Las Vegas," he said thoughtfully, his eyes on her face. "I'm playing the Pagan Room at the Santa Flores, and I don't have a show the evening we arrive there."

  Her hands paused an instant in their massage. Despite her acknowledgement of her desire to belong to Rex, his persistence caused her a moment of panic. Then her hands resumed their gentle knead­ing motion.

  "In Las Vegas," she assented slowly. "At the Santa Flores."

  Eight

  Tamara lazily rolled over on her back, adjusted her sunglasses carefully, and gazed at the exotic land­scaping around the Olympic-sized pool. She sighed in contentment. The Santa Flores was a truly beauti­ful hotel casino, with an islanchmotif and sumptu­ous air of quiet luxury that was unique in a town like Las Vegas. The penthouse apartment that had been lent to Rex by the hotel's owner was also excep­tionally lovely. She was going to like it here, she thought dreamily. But then she would like it any­where with Rex.

  The last three days had passed with lightning rapidity and, despite the mad pace set by Rex and Oliver, she'd thoroughly enjoyed them. She'd found the companionship bred by being on the road was unique and intimate and had even extended to her relationship with Scotty Oliver. If not exactly on cordial terms, they at least had developed a mutual respect which might eventually lead to friendship.

  As for Rex, it seemed with the winning of her promise he'd decided he could relax, and the tempo of their relationship eased to a warm, friendly camaraderie. Not that there hadn't been moments that had sparked into near-flame. Their physical chemistry was too strong not to generate its own fireworks. She was conscious that Rex was carefully damping down the blatant sexuality that was a natu­ral facet of his make-up, but she could still detect a virile magnetism that was very disturbing.

  There had been many moments when she'd wanted to give in and tell him three days was a lifetime too long to wait. Particularly since her herbal ointment had worked so beautifully that he was almost back to normal by the end of the Houston concert. It wasn't shyness that made her hesitate but caution. They needed the time to probe each other's minds and personalities before entering into a physical com­mitment she had an idea would eclipse every other facet of their relationship, at least temporarily.

  Now she was glad she'd waited. She was sure her love for Rex was based on more than that magical desire he could provoke with only a long, slumbering look from those intense black eyes. The Rex Brody she had come to know in the past few days was a complex combination of tough, aggressive street kid, brilliant creative artist, and witty, cynical man of the world. Add a dash of mischievous little boy and that occasional, irresistible tenderness, and there emerged a man any woman would be proud to love. And love him she certainly did, she thought ruefully. He seemed to encompass everything she wanted in the world now, and she desired that final physical commitment as much as he. Not only for the wild pleasure she was sure he would bring to her, but for the possible bonds that pleasure might forge be­tween them. She had less than a month to make him feel some of the love she felt for him, and she grew terrified at the thought of failure. She shook her head firmly. She wouldn't fail. She would pur­sue this most important goal with the same perse­verance and intelligence she'd demonstrated over the years and she would succeed. Heaven help her, she had to.

  Tamara checked her watch and noticed with satis­faction that it was almost five. Rex had asked her to meet him back in the penthouse suite at five, and then left her to go off on some mysterious business of his own. She'd decided to spend the hours until she saw him again at the pool, but it had been a long four hours. She'd grown used to being with him constantly in the past few days and she felt strangely incomplete without him.

  She stood up, slipped on a royal purple beach robe over her lavender bikini, and set off eagerly for the penthouse. Using the key Rex had given her, she entered the apartment and tripped through the foyer to the living room.

  "Rex," she called, "Are you—"

  She stopped in the doorway, feeling as if she'd been kicked in the stomach. The woman in Rex's arms was tiny but voluptuous, with dark hair flow­ing almost to her waist. Dressed only in a halter top and short shorts, she was embracing Rex with an enthusiastic fervor. But no more enthusiastic than the way Rex was holding her, Tamara noticed miser­ably.

  "Excuse me," she muttered, as the two looked up in surprise at her entrance. She ran blindly to the guest bedroom she'd been allotted, wanting only to get out of sight so she could release this agony. She slammed the door closed only to have it explode open behind her.

  "Oh no you don't!" Rex growled. "I'm not having you run in here and sulk, damn it! You're coming back into the living room to meet Jenny."

  "I'm quite sure you'd rather be alone with her," Tamara said huskily, not looking at him. "I'm sorry I interrupted you."

  Rex ran his fingers through his dark hair dis­tractedly. "Listen, I'm sure as hell not going to risk any misunderstandings today so I'm going to explain very carefully. That lovely person out there is your hostess, Jenny Jason. She and her husband, Steve, are not only my best friends, but I'm godfather to their son, Sean. Now will you come back and act like a civilized human being?"

  Sheer relief made Tamara light-headed. "She's just a friend?" she whispered, her violet eyes starry with unshed tears.

  "Scout's honor," he said, his own eyes twinkling. "Do you think I'd be crazy enough to risk tonight for a moment's gratification? I've barely been able to hold out for the past three days. It seemed more like three years."

  "For me, too," she said, and the glowing radiance in her eyes caused him to catch his breath.

  "Don't do that to me, babe," he said huskily. "We've still got a few hours to get through before I can follow up on what those pansy eyes are saying." He drew a deep breath and took her gently by the arm. "Come on and meet Jenny."

  Jenny Jason was even lovelier than Tamara had first thought. She had the most magnificent, silver gray eyes Tamara had ever seen, and certainly the - warmest smile. She accepted Tamara's shy apology with a friendly grin and wry grimace. "Actually, I was quite flattered," she said breezily, flopping down into a burgundy velvet armchair. "It's not often an old married woman like me is mistaken for a Femme fatale. It was quite a boost for my ego."

  "Poor old lady," Rex scoffed. "How old are you now, mermaid? Twenty-three?"

  "Twenty-four," Jenny corrected indignantly. "And I'm the mother of a very hyper two-year-old, so that ought to count double." Her eyes were bright with curiosity as she appraised Tamara from the top of her head to her feet. "You're absolutely gorgeous, you know," she added approvingly. "And definitely not an Amazon."

  "I beg your pardon?" Tamara asked bewilderedly.

  "Rex has a positive antipathy for six-foot showgirls," Jenny explained, her silver eyes dancing. "Once one of them got hold of the key to his suite and—"

  "It's an old private joke," Rex interrupted hastily, and Tamara felt a twinge of envy at the obvious long-standing intimacy between them. "Where's Steve, Jenny? Don't tell me he let you come to Vegas by yourself?"

  "He's in San Francisco on business. I was with him, but I had to come back early to take Sean to the pediatrician to have his six-month checkup. Af­ter his appointment, I sent him back to the ranch with Mike and came on to the apartment to see you," Jenny explained lightly. "Steve should be back by the weekend. He said to tell you he was sorry to miss your opening tomorrow night."

  Rex shrugged. "It doesn't matter," he said, his dark eyes dancing. "I'll be just as good the third night."

  Jenny chuckled and glanced at Tamara. "I hope you’ll work at ridding him of that terrible inferiority complex."

  "Are you going back to the ranch tonight?" Rex asked, then turned to Tamara. "When Sean was born," he explained, "Steve and Jenny bought a ranch just outside Vegas. They only use the apart­ment occasionally now."

  "To an
swer your question," Jenny said, "I have a meeting at the Chamber of Commerce tomorrow morning. I'll probably be going back tomorrow evening." She lifted an inquiring brow. "Am I to have the honor of your company at dinner tonight?"

  Rex shook his head. "Sorry, mermaid, we've made other plans for the evening." As Tamara would have protested, he went on quickly, "In fact, we have to get moving right away."

  "Breakfast tomorrow then," Jenny insisted firmly. "Ten o'clock, and ask that nice Scotty Oliver, too."

  "Yes, ma'am," Rex said meekly, sketching a salute. "It shall be as you decree, mermaid."

  "Wretch," she charged fondly. Then turning to Tamara, she said, "It's quite unfair for him to whisk you away before I get to know you. Well have to make up for it tomorrow."

  "I'd like that," Tamara said earnestly. She had a notion that Jenny Jason was a person she might like very much. They said good-bye, then as the door closed behind Jenny, Rex was suddenly pulling her across the living room toward her bedroom.

  "What's the hurry?"

  "You have the nerve to ask me that?" Rex asked wryly. "Look, love, wear the crimson gown tonight, the one you wore that first night, okay? I have a special reason for asking."

  "If you like," she said slowly.

  "I like," he said, and gave her a quick kiss. "I’ll meet you in the lobby in an hour."

  He was waiting by the elevator when she arrived in the lobby, looking wildly handsome in a black tuxedo and white, ruffled dress shirt that only served to accent his overpowering masculinity.

  "You look as lovely as I remembered," he said huskily. "Do you know that when I first saw you, you reminded me of a princess in a fairy tale?"

  Her violet eyes twinkled. "So you immediately at­tacked me," she teased. "Not very gallant, Rex."

  "Sheer self-defense," he said with a breezy grin. "Come on, princess, I have some surprises for you." He took her firmly by the arm and escorted her swiftly to the parking lot to his rented yellow Ferrari.

  An hour later they pulled up before a gracious, rambling building that could have passed for an En­glish manor house. Set incongruously in the desert, it was still very impressive.