Love Her or Lose Her (Hot & Hammered #2)(25)

If Rosie’s mother were still alive, she would have wanted the waitstaff to be impeccably dressed. It was one of her mother’s pet peeves—going out to eat and being served by a waiter with messy hair or an untucked shirt. She’d send Rosie and her father a sniff and an eye roll. God, she missed that eye roll. Missed having them both around so much. Maybe when . . . if Rosie opened the restaurant, she would give a nod to her mother by making an all-black uniform mandatory. She’d add a splash of red, though. That would be for her.

What was she doing here? Lingering at the curb at this time of night, weaving dreams through her car window? Rosie didn’t know for sure, but there was a confidence sitting on her shoulders—a sense of self that hadn’t been there at the start of the day. Or even when she’d finished her shift. It had come when she read the letter. Words. She really did need them. Her friends had been encouraging her verbally since they’d formed the Just Us League and that had gone a long way toward helping her realize she deserved more. More out of her life, her relationship, her career. But there was something about hearing Dominic’s voice, even on paper, that made her feel more like her old self than anything else could. And the further she traveled toward her core, the more her self-esteem built.

Rosie took one last look at the storefront and pulled her car back onto the street, hesitating a moment before turning at the end of the block toward Bethany’s house. She had to resist the temptation to drive the opposite way. To her home. To Dominic. He would be inside her before the click of the lock faded from the air. They would have sex instead of talking, which really, really didn’t sound terrible at the moment. Afterward, though, what would happen? Would unspoken—necessary—words be forced into the open if they gave in to that other, extremely satisfying outlet?

Before she climbed out of the car, Rosie groaned up at the ceiling, all too aware that the seam of her panty hose was damp. It was only Thursday night and they didn’t have therapy scheduled again until Monday. Would they get the all clear to be physical? Would she take it? God knew her body was ready, but her mind . . . she wasn’t sure.

One thing Rosie knew for certain?

A few things couldn’t wait until Monday for clarification.

When Rosie walked into Bethany’s house, the blonde was lying prone on the couch with a cold eye mask draped across the top half of her face. She lifted a hand and wiggled her fingers in greeting. “Hello, gorgeous.”

“Hey, yourself.” Rosie took off her red coat and dropped it on the hook, staring at it for several long seconds. “I’m going to head up early, okay?”

“Long day?”

“Something like that,” Rosie murmured, heading for the stairs. “See you in the morning.”

Bethany hummed, thankfully picking up on Rosie’s need for a quick exit. As soon as she was in the guest room, she toed off her shoes and started to pace. Her purse sat on the bed, cell phone visible in the inside pocket. One button and she’d be connected to Dominic. The prospect of hearing his deep, cigar-ash drawl sent a rush of heat through her belly, and although she told herself to ignore those bubbles of yearning, she unzipped her skirt and let it drop to the floor, followed by the hose. Her silk blouse came next, the buttons feeling extra-smooth on her finger pads. It joined her skirt on the floor, and Rosie was left standing in panties and a strapless bra.

Biting down on her lower lip, she inwardly cursed the warm exhilaration creeping up the insides of her thighs. God, she was needy tonight. Every inch of her flesh was sensitive and restless. Hungry. Before she could stop herself, Rosie slid her feet back into the high heels, unable to suppress the naughty tickle of pleasure it gave her, being dressed so provocatively. Ignoring her blaring common sense, she snatched up the phone and called her husband.

“Rosie.”

She covered the bottom half of the phone and let out a shaky exhale. Oh my God. One word out of his mouth caused the wetness to spread in her underwear, sent her nerve endings into chaos. “Hi, Dominic.” In the background, she could hear the familiar slide of their living room curtain rod. “I’m not outside.”

The frustration was evident in his lack of response.

What if he’d found her walking up the brick pathway? He’d already be unzipping his pants, stripping off his shirt to reveal all that honed and hardened muscle—

“So . . .” Rosie licked her lips, toes flexing in her high heels. “Let me get this straight,” she breathed. “First, you sneak my coat into Bethany’s house. Now I find out you’ve been paying the security guard to watch over me?”

Silence passed. “Joe was supposed to keep that between us.”

“Dominic . . .” She shook her head. “Don’t you think I would have liked knowing that?”

His low, noncommittal rumble reached her ear. “You should assume I’m doing everything I can to keep you safe.”

Her laugh sounded dazed. “But it would have made me feel special. It would have told me that I’m special to you.” Pressing the phone to her ear, she lay down on the bed and trailed light fingertips around her belly button. “A lot like your letter.” Her body might be in full protest mode that she hadn’t gone to see her husband tonight, but her brain could acknowledge how important it was for them to talk. Like this. So even though it was hard ripping off Band-Aids, she forced herself to do it. To be revealing. “Your letter made me feel like . . . the old me. I read it three times.”