The Crystal Rose

By DL Mains

The Crystal Rose...Where generations meet and romance still thrives.

A string of bad luck leads Sheridan McLaughlin back to her godfather and his precious nightclub for a job. But once back at The Crystal Rose, Sheridan discovers that Uncle Joel has a new associate, none other than the infamous investment tycoon, Russell Madison, the son of a man her father hated for years.

Russell is, and always will be, a renowned womanizer who would commit every sin known to man before committing to a woman. Unfortunately, Sheridan doesn't find out that he is not only an associate, but a new partner until after she decides that she detests him. Russell has a knack for throwing her metabolism out of whack by setting off her temper, making her knees turn to jelly, indecently propositioning her, charming secrets out of her and sending her brain into a fixated stupor. All reasons enough to despise the insufferable beast.

Russell has his own reasons for being at The Crystal Rose, but he never expected to be confronted with the problems of dealing with Joel's niece. Her appearance at the club not only causes problems with his ultimate goals, but with his heart.

Despite their resistance and the malicious intent of a jealous suitor, nothing can stop the tumultuous relationship that grows. Is their love strong enough to prevent history from repeating itself?

She is an opinionated, hot-tempered fireball and he is an arrogant, womanizing scoundrel, but is anyone who they seem to be at The Crystal Rose?

• Language: English
• Publisher: DL Mains
• Release date: Jan 7, 2012
• ISBN: 9781466024281

DL Mains

Ms. Mains writes amongst the distraction of three teenagers, two dogs and a gregarious husband. After working all day, her writing office consists of the living room sofa and coffee table. A born storyteller, she reaches from dreams to the stars for inspiration. She lives with her family on Long Island.

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The Crystal Rose

by D.L. Mains

Copyright 2012 D.L. Mains

Smashwords Edition

Dedicated to Rose B. who didn’t say, Who cares?

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Chapter One

Keith adjusted the focus on his binoculars and smiled as the image of his true love’s, beautiful face sharpened. Hidden behind the trees of the island dividing the parkway, his view of her was perfect. He could almost hear her swear at the flat tire on her beloved old car. His estimates had been better than he’d anticipated. The slow air leak had caused her tire to go flat at the perfect spot.

She kicked the tire and he chuckled. If those black clouds opened up, it would be impossible for her to change the tire. He'd just drive over and come to her rescue. Her gratitude would…

What the hell?

~~~

Damn. Sheridan McLaughlin threw the cross wrench to the ground. It’s just not my week. The jack joined the wrench on the ground next to the open trunk of her classic Mustang. First her job, then her apartment and now this. Maybe she should have bought the tires instead of half the new upholstery. The new paint would definitely have to wait now.

The wing nut securing the spare tire to the trunk was too tight, and she cursed at that as well. Fixing her grip, she turned again until the nut spun free… and broke her nail. With a growl, she bit the loose nail off her finger and spit it to the ground. Wondering why she had even gotten out of bed that morning, she pulled the spare off the bolt, hauled it out and dropped it to the ground. Isn’t rubber supposed to bounce?

Oh, for God’s sake. She stared at the flat spare and then gave it a kick for good measure. Her toe throbbed and the tire sat, mocking her. Could anything else go wrong? Thunder rolled over the brushy dune beside the road, the wind pulling strands of her hair out of her bun and whipping it around her face. Sheridan looked up at the darkening April sky. Lightning flashed over the ocean and her skin prickled.

Not having much luck, are you?

The deep, masculine voice sounded louder than the thunder and Sheridan jumped, turning so quickly her forehead hit the latch of the trunk. Pain flared like an explosion over her eye and her head snapped backward. Blinded, she brought one hand to her head and reached for the side of the trunk with the other. There was nothing to grab onto and Sheridan’s balance wavered. I’m going to fall into the trunk.

Whoa. A solid grip around her arm righted her. You all right?

Fear kicked in, her heart racing, and she pulled away, blinking until her vision cleared. She hadn't heard a car pull up, yet there was the red convertible, not ten feet away.

Her gaze swept up the length of the man’s commanding frame. He was a giant, a wondrously attractive giant. In all her twenty-six years, she couldn't recall ever seeing a man like him. Her heart continued to race, showing no signs of stopping, and she was sure all the blood in her body was collecting in her face.

Jet black hair curled in an unruly fashion behind his ears to brush the starched white collar of his dress shirt. His muscular arms, crossed over his vast chest, caused his shirt to strain over shoulders that looked capable of carrying the heaviest of burdens. Sheridan had a few millstones she could donate to test them. She bit her lip. Where the hell did that come from?

Her gaze moved down the length of his loosened tie to his narrow hips and long, black clad legs, which were lean and well-muscled, and snuggly encased in precisely creased trousers.

Sheridan blinked several times to see if he was real or just a figment of her imagination. Maybe she had hit her head harder than she’d thought. She shook her head, but he was still there, over six feet of him and none of it wasted.

His face had a rugged, almost chiseled structure with a wide jaw, wider cheeks and a nose that looked as if it had been broken a few times. With the gray ominous clouds behind him, the nearby surf crashing on the shore and the wind ruffling his hair, caressing his hard form, it was as if his appearance alone had caused the turbulent turn of weather. He reminded Sheridan of an ancient god and she shivered, her mouth suddenly dry.

She pictured him leaning against the railing on the quarter-deck of a three-masted schooner, instead of on the hood of a Mercedes-Benz, and he should be wearingnothing sprang to mind as her first choice, although an eye patch and a sword were a close second. Either way, certainly not those impeccably tailored clothes.

Yup, she had finally cracked.

Her gaze lingered on his engaging mouth until his sensuous lower lip curled into an amused little grin and his thick dark brows rose.

She sucked in a breath. So, he was amused, was he? Her awe quickly disintegrated into annoyance. How long had he been standing there? Well, he could go on standing there for all she cared. She wasn't about to beg for help. One dose of humility a week was enough for any McLaughlin to endure.

~~~

Russell Madison looked up as the first drops of the promised rain sprinkled his face. He had admired the girl's determination—until he noticed the flat spare.

Her gaze moved over him, as most women’s did, and he smirked. Russell didn't kid himself. He had an impressive physique. It amused him to see people’s initial reaction to his size. He was arrogant, but in his profession, it paid to be.

She straightened to her full height, not more than five-feet-four inches, and then, oddly, bent over and smashed her fist into the back of her right knee. Her antics intrigued him, even as the rain came down in earnest.

There's no sense in us both getting wet. She waved her hand dismissively. Don't let me keep you.

Russell couldn’t help laughing. She had dismissed him! His brother would have gone into a fit of hysterical laughter. We're both already wet, he pointed out.

He noticed her scraped brow and frowned, reaching out to lift her face to see the damage. Are you all right?

The girl jumped, moving away before his fingers made contact with her face. Don't touch me! She grabbed the wrench from the ground, holding it up between them.

He deliberately smiled, trying to ease the fear he saw in her eyes. As she backed away from him, he noticed her form was anything but girlish. Her wet sweatshirt clung to her small figure, accentuating her feminine curves, and causing a definite rush of heat through his veins. The rain, heavy now, plastered her hair, twisted into a bun, to the top of her head while the wind whipped a few, very long, sodden strands around her face. She swiped at them and leveled her chin. Her glare was as threatening as the lug wrench.

The lug wrench worried him. He didn't want her hurting herself—or him, for that matter. And what will you do with that? He did his best to maintain an air of levity. I've been told my screws are already loose.

She blinked at him. By God, she was lovelier up close. The smell of damp roses wafted through the air and a pleasurable tremor moved down his spine. He tugged on the knot of his already loosened tie.

Clear, satiny skin glowed, her only makeup, even a bit smudged, enhanced her huge, almond-shaped emerald eyes. They outshone any jewel he'd ever seen. Her delicate bone structure, straight nose and high, pronounced cheekbones, combined with a slightly pointed chin, made her look like an elf. Her coloring fascinated him. Pale ivory skin contrasted dramatically with the massive knot of copper-gold hair, darkened now from the rain, piled on top of her head. Not even the stubborn set of her jaw detracted from her striking beauty.

He’d die if he didn't touch her. His heart sped up.

Don't be afraid. He reached toward her injured brow, licking his lips. His fingertips brushed the bruising skin and the softness thrilled him, sending a shiver down his spine. The woman jumped back, pressing a hand to her cut. Sorry, I didn’t mean—

She took another step away and he frowned. He wasn’t used to people distrusting him. The striking little creature still held the steel wrench between them, as if she would gladly hit him in the head with it.

Another clap of thunder warned how severe the storm had become. Russell reached for the wrench and she pulled away from him. Don't be a fool. Your spare is flat. He twisted the tool from her grasp and tossed it into the open trunk. The spare and the jack followed and he slammed the trunk lid shut.

Her jaw dropped open as if she wanted to yell at him…or scream. Most people were rendered speechless when confronted with a man of action. He’d used that method many times to get what he’d wanted.

He strode around her car, retrieved the keys from the ignition, locked the door and returned to his own car.

Get in, he called over his shoulder. I'll give you a lift.

The woman still hadn’t moved. She stared at him as if he was a moron. I'm not going anywhere with you. And give me back my keys.

Lightning flashed in the sky to the south, the air crackling between them, and the rain continued to pound down on them. His shirt was ruined and possibly his pants too. The storm is getting worse. He fished his keys out of his pocket and hit the button. Both front doors opened. Get in the car.

Her chin shot up. "Don't order me around, you arrogant Neanderthal. I don't know you from the devil, and I certainly will not get into a car with you!"

Fine. I assume you’re going to The Crystal Rose. It’s the only building on this road. Do you know Joel Turner?

She bit her lip and crossed her arms. Defensive or protective? He wondered.

Yes.

She sounded confident so he pulled out his cell phone, wiped the rain off the display and dialed the number. Joel answered with a chipper, Hello.

Joel? It’s Russ.

Russ? Everything okay?

Yeah, I’m fine. I’m trying to assist a woman here who says she knows you. Hang on. He walked back around the car and held the phone out to the women.

She peered up at him, her hair slick and her bun straining at the pins from the weight. Water glistened on her lashes, making her green eyes sparkle and smudges of dirt, or grease, smeared across her cheek. Russell swallowed thickly. Now was not the time to get excited, although his body didn’t agree.

Take it. He offered the phone again.

She moved her gaze to his hand, looking at his iPhone like it was an alien. Gingerly, she reached out and took the device, her eyes widening at its weight, and then held it to her ear. Joel? She listened for a minute. You’re sure? She paused again. Yes, all right. She lowered the phone and stared at the display. Russell was pretty sure she didn’t know how to end the call. How do you…oh. She hit the ‘end’ button and handed the phone back. He said I can trust you.

He nodded, offering her a reassuring smile. Will you get into the car now?

When she hesitated, he moved to the open passenger side door, the rain had spattered on his leather upholstery. His annoyance returned at her stubbornness. Look, I am trying to help you. I will not leave a woman stranded on the side of a deserted road in a thunderstorm. Not even a stubborn, sharp-tongued little fireball who probably deserves it. Please, get in the car.

She glared at him but climbed into his car.

Russell closed the door behind her, rounded the car and slid into the driver’s seat. And you can wipe that hateful look off your face. I already regret my decision to stop.

No one asked you to stop. I was doing just fine.

Her petulance seemed more internal and he wondered if she was trying to convince herself. Was she accustomed to such self-sufficiency? He pushed back his sopping hair. I noticed, he retorted and turned to gaze out the windshield at the battered old Mustang. That bucket of rust shouldn't even be on the road.

"That 'bucket of rust' is an antique. And, it was in the process of being restored."

Really? Russell couldn't help his sarcasm. The restoration on an antiquity such as that would cost a fortune.

You think? she returned with equal sarcasm.

Nothing he had seen so far indicated she had that kind of money. He also doubted she was as young as she appeared, but he’d been wrong before. So who’s funding this restoration? Your parents?

Her expression blanked as she looked out into the heavy rain hitting the windshield. No, she said softly.

Flown from the nest, have we? Russell had meant to make her smile as well as get an estimation of her age. He hadn’t expected the hand flying at his face. He caught it mid-air and lifted his brows. Okay: parents—touchy subject. Maybe she had been forced into independence. Temperamental little thing. Well, before you hit me, I think we should be properly introduced.

She pulled on the hand still within his grip but he held on. Just touching her was enough to send blood racing to all the right places.

Joel said you could trust me, remember?

She looked at him thoughtfully. Sheridan McLaughlin.

Irish?

How clever. And without so much as a hint.

He pressed his lips to the back of her hand, smiling as he savored the silken skin. Delighted, he murmured.

She yanked her hand away. And you?

Russell Madison. He rested an arm across the back of her seat and smiled, waiting for the reaction, usually delight. At your service.

Sheridan McLaughlin glared at his arm and then his face. Is this when I bow down to your greatness?

He stared at her. No recognition at all. Either she didn't know who he was or didn’t care. What an interesting concept.

She shivered and Russell didn’t know if it was from sexual attraction or if she’d caught a chill. He hoped it was the former. If she was as turned on as he was, this trip down to the club would be worth getting wet. Are you cold?

She shrugged her narrow shoulders. A little.

His gaze wandered to her lips. Would they taste as good as her skin? Probably better. He shook himself. He didn't usually have such wicked thoughts—okay, maybe he did, but not women who are so antagonistic toward him. I have a blanket in the trunk. I’ll be right back.

He stood behind the car in the driving rain for several minutes, tilting his head so the rain would fall on his face, cooling his trembling lips. Eyes closed, he tried not to think about the sweatshirt clinging to her full breasts. He took a deep breath but could still smell the damp roses of her hair.

Damn, he growled, grabbing the blanket from the trunk. He returned to the driver’s seat and draped the fleece around her.

Sheridan McLaughlin snuggled into it and peered at him. At least that lush body of hers was covered up even if those mysterious green eyes weren't.

Thank you.

You're welcome, he managed. He pulled out his handkerchief and wiped the smudges of grease from her nose and cheek, somewhat surprised she let him. Encouraged, he inspected the bump forming on her forehead. Looks like you may have a nice bruise there, Miss McLaughlin. He paused to meet her gaze. May I assume that it's Miss?

She nodded, and he held her gaze as she stared back, a strange, puzzled expression on her face. Finally, she looked away and moved as close to the door as she could. Disappointment filled him, along with a desire to find out who she was. Drawn, he reached out and wound a length of her fallen hair around his fingers. Even damp, it slid like silk over his hand. It seems a shame to confine all that hair in those pins.

What's that supposed to mean? She pulled her head back, her eyes wary.

My apologies. He pulled his hand away and lifted a brow. I meant it as a compliment.

Her expression relaxed and her own brows rose. Is that what it was?

Russell grinned. Your sarcasm is lost on me, Miss McLaughlin. I enjoy it.

I'll try to remember that.

I hope so. Russell really did. She was the sexiest thing he’d met in a long time and her feisty attitude just added to her appeal. He wanted to know more about her and he wanted to know more of her. Her feigned disinterest didn’t convince him. He could see her shortness of breath and the flush of her skin. She was interested and she’d brightened what had threatened to be a dull and ordinary day. A couple of drinks at the club and this acquaintance could escalate pleasantly.

Sheridan stilled his hand as he reached for the ignition. Please. She swallowed. Can we wait until the rain lets up?

If Russell hadn't caught a hint of panic in her face, he might have assumed she wanted to remain alone with him. It was odd that a woman who was ready to fight him to the death with a lug wrench while hurling insults at him would rather tolerate his company than journey forth into a blinding rainstorm. He noted the restless hand massaging her knee and furrowed his brow. Are you afraid of the storm?

It's a long story. She stared out into the weather, the rain beating a hypnotic melody on the windshield. I used to love thunderstorms. I used to sit for hours on our front porch with my father trying to predict where the next bolt of lightning would strike. She sighed, eyes unfocused as if she pictured the scene inside her mind. I remember once—

She cut herself off, turning pink. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to ramble. She rubbed her temples.

Having a bad day?

That's the understatement of the year, she declared. I just lost my job as a Marine Biologist and I found out that my apartment building is going condo.

Russell nodded sympathetically, engrossed in the sound of her voice. So she had cause to be cranky. A woman so lovely shouldn’t have so many worries.

Don't waste your sympathies on me, Mr. Madison. I'll survive. Her expression was sad but he’d heard the bitterness in her voice. I always do.

So she didn’t like pity either. I have no doubt. So, why are you headed to the club?

Rehearsal. She perked up from the swift change of subject. Although, I've probably missed it by now.

Rehearsal?

I'll be working there for a while.

Doing what?

Singing and tending bar.

Joel hadn’t said anything about hiring a new singer. Really? Sort of an odd change in careers, isn't it?

She lifted her chin and looked him in the eyes. I worked there years ago while I was in college. Joel saw fit to hire me back until I find a position in my field.

Well, at least he had an idea of her age now. I find that strange. Why would the owner of such a prestigious nightclub hire a Marine Biologist as a singer?

I happen to have ‘the voice of an angel’.

Russell raised a brow. She had used sarcasm to inflect a direct quote. It actually sounded like something Joel would say. How many years ago was she referring to? I don't recall ever seeing you perform at The Crystal Rose.

Are you calling me a liar, Mr. Madison? Her eyes flashed emerald fire.

Well, well. The lady is very enticing when challenged. He grinned and glanced out the windshield. The rain had slowed to a drizzle. He guessed they’d better get moving. He would see if her passions ran as pure as her bravado.

I was on my way there myself. Russell fastened his seatbelt and glanced into the rearview mirror as a car pulled up behind them. The man just sat in the blue Chevy watching, and Russell frowned.

Sheridan must have seen his attention shift. She turned in her seat to look behind them. Good. Can we go now?

Russell glanced at her, noticing her interest in the car. Did she know the driver? He switched on the ignition and the engine roared to life. Who's that?

No one. Can we go now?

Russell studied her. Apprehension showed in her eyes. With another look in the mirror, he depressed the clutch, threw the car into gear and pulled back onto the road, leaving Sheridan's lame Mustang and the ‘nobody’ behind.

Letting out a breath, Sheridan turned back to Russell. What business could you possibly have at The Crystal Rose?

My own, Miss McLaughlin, he dismissed her question. Do you know that guy?

Maybe.

Russell grinned at her grumbling tone. So, who is he? The resident rapist? Local serial killer? Drive-by sniper?

She laughed. Finally, he had amused her. Hardly. I think he was a guy I used to date.

Ah, Russell said with dawning realization. Rather journey forth with me, the 'arrogant Neanderthal’, than face the jilted lover?

Sheridan’s lips tightened and he smiled but she didn't comment. He pulled his car into The Crystal Rose's parking lot and parked before the large white building. Three stories high, the building rose, with no windows on the parking lot side, except for the double glass doors to the lobby.

Shutting off the engine, Russell turned to her with a grin.

The moment of reckoning, Miss McLaughlin. Care to alter your story?

~~~

Keith's knuckles turned white as he gripped the steering wheel. He was supposed to be the one who rescued her.

Sheridan hadn’t even noticed the other car pull up. He had clearly seen her surprise through his binoculars. That was his Sheridan. She never noticed anything unless the results hit her in the face. That was why she didn't see Keith’s love. A woman so smart and so beautiful shouldn’t be so damned blind. That was the only reason he could imagine for her total ignorance of the love waiting for her in his arms. But then, she was a scientist.

If only she could see how perfect they were for each other. Just thinking about having her for his own made his chest ache.

The red Mercedes carrying his fiancée drove away. That man…that dark giant of a man, had intervened, just as Joel had. Now he would have to try even harder to show Sheridan that she belonged to him. This little obstacle might delay their inevitable reunion, but now that Keith had found her again, he’d be damned if he’d lose her. He was going to prove how much she needed him, and she would finally be his.

~~~

Sheridan jumped out of the car and slammed the door. Alter my story? You don't believe me?

Russell also stepped out and rested his arms on the car's black top. The rain had stopped and the sun peeked out between the thinning clouds. He smiled, something else he found very easy to do around this particular woman. That little