Free Texas Rose by Marie Ferrarella

Maybe he was running away at that. Running from something that he couldn’t quite identify, but that scared the hell out of him because of its intensity.
    Better to leave than to stick around. Relationships took too much trouble—had always been his motto. It wasn’t anymore.
    He nodded, temporarily surrendering. “All right, I guess I can stay the night.”
    Rising to her feet, she picked up the suitcase that was beside the sofa. “And then some. Now go on, git,” she said in her finest Texas accent, pointing down the hall to his room.
    He laughed and kissed her cheek.
    â€œGood night, Aunt Beth.” Matt took the suitcase from her hand.
    Yes, she thought as she watched Matt walk down the hall toward his room, it was going to be all right. She was going to see to it. Rose could be stubborn, but as Archy had once shouted at her while she wasstill living in the same house as he, there was no one under the sun more stubborn than she.
    Â 
    Rose woke up feeling more dead than alive.
    She’d spent the better part of the night tossing and turning, unable to sleep because of the man who was only a few negligible feet away from her bed. A man she wanted, despite everything she’d said to the contrary, in her own bed.
    And then when she’d finally managed to doze off in the wee hours of morning, a bout of nausea had overtaken her, sending her running to the bathroom to commune, headfirst, with the porcelain bowl while simultaneously praying that Matt wouldn’t wake up and hear her or suddenly be struck with the need to make use of the facilities himself.
    She swore this baby was sapping everything out of her, making her look pale and drawn. Or was the hopelessness she felt whenever she thought of her situation responsible for the way she looked lately?
    Rose sighed. She was just too exhausted to sort all that out today. She didn’t feel up to dealing with anything, least of all with seeing Matt.
    The knock on her door set her teeth on edge as if long, sharp fingernails scraped across a chalkboard in her brain.
    â€œGo away, I’m dead,” she called, then pulled the pillow over her head, wishing her words were a prophesy. Could you die from misery?
    From beneath her pillow, she heard the doorknob turn. She knew Beth meant well, but she couldn’t deal with her exuberance, either. Not this morning. Peeking out from beneath her pillow, she began to beg off whatever it was that Beth had in mind.
    Her words froze.
    Matt—not Beth—was standing in her doorway.
    The pillow fell to the floor as she scrambled into a sitting position, dragging her blanket to her as if the man standing there hadn’t already seen her nude, in the afterglow of lovemaking.
    Why couldn’t he leave her alone and just let her die in peace?
    Damn it, even with sleep lacing her lids and her hair all disarrayed, Rose was still the most beautiful woman Matt had ever seen. He felt himself becoming aroused just looking at her.
    If he wasn’t the kind of man he was, he would break out of the restraints he’d imposed upon himself and slip into bed with her this instant. He was certain he could erase the protest from her lips with next to no effort at all.
    The taste of her mouth from last night was still on his lips, the imprint burned into his soul as well as his memory.
    No, he thought again, next to no effort at all.
    He smiled at her, remembering Beth’s pep talk. “Morning.”
    Flustered, Rose blew out a breath. “Yes, it is. ButI would have figured that out without you.” She gestured toward the light streaming into her room through the windows. “Is there anything else earth-shattering you want to tell me?”
    She was testy. He wasn’t used to that. But he figured it was a hurdle he was going to have to overcome. Matt leaned against the doorjamb, his arms crossed at his broad chest. For now he was content to remain here, just looking at her and letting