Perfect Proposal
Perfect Proposal
Leah
Braemel
Smashwords
Edition
Copyright 2012 Leah
Braemel
* * *
This is a work of
fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and
incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or
used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons,
living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
* * *
All rights
reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or
used in any manner whatsoever without the express written
permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations
in a book review.
Smashwords Edition, License Notes
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expecting the hard work of this author.
PERFECT PROPOSAL
is a follow-up to Sam and Rosie’s story. Sam Watson was introduced
in PRIVATE PROPERTY, book 1 of the Hauberk Protection series
published by Samhain Publishing, and met Rosie in PERSONAL
PROTECTION, book 2. However, it shouldn’t be necessary to have read
either story to enjoy this story. (But you may be tempted to after
reading Sam’s proposal.)
More information
about the rest of the Hauberk Protection series can be found at the
end of this book, or on Leah’s website,
http://leahbraemel.com
Table of Contents
S
unlight glinted off the solitaire
diamond engagement ring and fractured into a thousand rainbows that
danced over the walls and ceiling. Heedless of the display, Sam
Watson juggled the hotel phone between his ear and shoulder. “What
do you mean, the roses haven’t arrived? I ordered them last
month.”
“
We’re looking into the situation now, Mr. Watson,” the
concierge responded. “We’re working with the florist to locate them
and they’ll be in your room by the time you return
tonight.”
Sam
pinched the bridge of his nose, mentally running through his
checklist. What else could go wrong? “You understand I want
everything to be perfect tonight, right? It’s not just about the
roses. I want the champagne chilling in the ice bucket, the music
cued up, candles ready to be lit. It’s gotta be perfect, you hear
me?”
Unlike
the last three times he’d planned to propose, only to have his
plans go awry. Rosie deserved perfect and if it killed him, he’d
give her the perfect memory. The perfect proposal.
“
Yes, sir. I’ll personally ensure everything is exactly as
you’ve requested, even if I have to go out and purchase the roses
myself.”
“
Make sure they’re red roses. Not pink. Not white. Red.” To
match his favorite shade of her lipstick.
“
Yes, sir. All I need from you now is an approximate time
you’ll be returning so we can be set up and out of your
way.”
Now
there was a problem. Every member of the Ramos family could talk
the ears off a concrete elephant. A regular dinner generally lasted
two hours—a birthday dinner might last until dawn. The way his luck
was running lately, he hedged his bet. “Set it up before six.”
Dinner shouldn’t be cooked and eaten before then, he doubted. “That
way we won’t walk in on your staff and ruin the surprise. And call
me if you can’t get the damned roses.”
After
another assurance from the concierge that all would be done
according to plan, he hung up the phone. Good thing too, because at
some point during the call the shower had shut off. He closed the
small blue box and slipped it back into his coat pocket moments
before Rosie emerged. As it did every time she walked into a room,
his whole body went on alert, needing to claim her.
A drop
of water slid from the tip of one dark curl and over the curve of
her breast before disappearing into the towel she’d tucked into her
cleavage. Damned lucky towel.
Some of
their clients had thought her natural sensuality, along with petite
stature, made her less effective as a bodyguard. At least until he
explained that those qualities made her less likely to scare the
bejesus out of a client’s kids or pass undetected by anyone
expecting to see a six-foot-six behemoth like himself. After that,
he’d have Rosie give them a demonstration by taking him down with a
quick-and-dirty leg sweep, or show them the results of her last
shooting competition.
A
second, then a third droplet followed the path of the first. He
skimmed a finger over her skin, tracing the path the water droplets
had taken to the edge of the towel.
“
Well, were you?”
“
Was I what?” Was the towel slipping? If it wasn’t, it should.
A slight tug should be enough to—
The
single finger tilting his chin until he met her eyes made him
focus, as did the impatient tapping of her tiny foot.
“Saa-am…”
Uh-oh,
she was getting that tone in her voice. She’d said something, but
damned if he knew what. “Sorry. I got distracted. What did you
ask?”
She
clamped a hand across her bosom, which only served to press the
soft mounds until a hint of cinnamon nipple peeked over the terry.
With her free hand she made a V with her fingers and aimed them at
her face in an unspoken “eyes up here, buddy” command.
After a
brief internal struggle he managed to wrench his gaze back to her
face. Her narrowed eyes told him she knew exactly what had
distracted him.
“
I asked—”she enunciated every syllable, drawing his gaze to
her lips, still swollen from their earlier kisses, “—if you were
talking to me while I was in the shower.”
Shoot, he’d figured between her singing and the running water
she wouldn’t hear him talking. “Nope. I was—”
Keep your eyes up, Watson, stop thinking about getting her
naked
, “—checking in with Chad.”
“
I know it’s a blow to your ego, but Chad doesn’t need you to
micromanage things. He’s perfectly capable of running the office
himself. And you took a couple of days off to relax.” She poked her
index finger into the middle of his chest. “So relax
already.”
“
Hey, he contacted me first.” He didn’t have to mention that
his second-in-command had reached him by text message, which is how
he’d replied. “It’s not my fault the guy’s OCD about details.”
Which was what made Chad so good at his job.
Her
expression softened. “I worry about you, Sam. You’ve been working
so hard lately. You deserve this vacation. Chad can handle any
issues that come up back in D.C.”
“
I know, but—“
“
No buts. Now promise me you won’t be checking your email or
texting him all day. Give yourself some time for fun.”
The
scent of her shampoo—a light fragrance of ginger and some other
spice—filled his lungs. Damn, she smelled good enough to eat. A
quick check over his shoulder at the hotel room clock showed he had
time to do a little taste test of the smorgasbord known as
Rosalinda Ramos. Taste test, hell! Count him in for a whole
sit-down dinner with her laid out as the main meal. He gave in to
temptation and tugged at the terry tucked into her cleavage. “Well,
lookie here, your towel’s come loose.”
Damned
if she didn’t thwart him by pressing her whole body against him to
hold it in place. “I know I said you should have fun but we’re due
at my parents’ in less than an hour. We don’t have time for sex
right now.”
He
raised his eyebrows and drew himself up to his full six foot six to
stare down at her. “There’s always time for sex.”
She
slapped at his chest with little heat. “I still have to dry my
hair—”
With her
tight curls, drying meant using a boatload of hair products to help
keep her hair straight and tame, which took her at least forty-five
minutes.
“—
and do my make-up.”
Shoot,
he could have waited an hour or more to get dressed up in this
monkey suit. At least he could loosen his tie while he waited. And
maybe his fly. He always got a hard-on watching her apply her
makeup—especially her lipstick, while he imagined the particular
shade on her lips as they closed around his cock the way they had
earlier.
“
Then I have to get dressed.” The conviction in her voice faded
as she nuzzled her face against his chest.
Yeah,
they were definitely going to be late, thanks to the erection
painfully constrained by his briefs.
“
We can blame traffic if we’re late.” He slipped his hands
beneath the terrycloth and palmed her bare ass. Drowning in Rosie’s
sensuality, he gave in and allowed his carnal side to take
over.
Rosie
gasped when he lifted her until they were nose-to-nose, her bare
feet dangling a foot off the floor. Though she teased him about
lugging her around like she was a suitcase, she found his penchant
for picking her up as though she weighed nothing incredibly
romantic.