Page 106 of Sinful Escape

Gulp of beer.

“You need closure too, Daisy.”

Two gulps of beer.

“Pierre is only half a man without you.”

Need more beer.

And finally, the tipping point. “Pierre has probably got wrist strain from all the monkey spanking he’s been doing.”

I slapped his chest. “Oh my god. That’s disgusting.”

“Exactly. That is why you need to save him.” Roman’s pleading eyes were impossible to resist, like the decorative slice of chocolate sitting atop a rich mud cake. For some inexplicable reason, it suddenly seemed very important that I make him happy.

“All right. All right.” Preparing to throw my body on the line, I waggled my head and huffed out an exasperated breath. “Okay, if it’ll make you happy, I’ll go to Pierre.”

“It won’t just make me happy. You and Pierre will both be happy. You will thank me.”

“Yeah, thank you for shutting up.”

He raised his eyebrows in some kind of knowing expression. “Trust me.”

“Trust you? You’re sending me off to have sex with a man you don’t even know.”

“No, but you do. And I can tell you like him.”

“Oh, you can, can you?”

“Si. My sisters practically drool when they are horny. You are the same.”

My jaw nearly hit the floor. “I am not.”

“I am messing with you, Red. Calm down.”

I thumped him in the chest this time. “Not funny.”

“You should have seen your face.” Roman’s smile was truly spectacular. His good looks were wasted as a bus driver. He should be gracing the covers of women’s magazines, or strutting his stuff as a runway model, or?—

“Here’s to you.” He raised his beer. “Salute.”

My heart melted at the sincerity in his tone. I chinked my glass to his. “I hope you’re right about this.”

He put his glass down, placed his arm across my shoulder, and eased me into his body. I snuggled into his chest, wrapped my arms around him, and squeezed. It was our first real hug—excluding the boob-squish incident, that was, and the couple of fleeting times he’d tugged me closer. This was tender and sweet and perfect. It was like his whole body was absorbing all my worries and setting me free of burden and angst and all the other stupid things that consumed me.

Roman was a very good hugger.

I eased in closer, prepared to stay there all day.

All too soon he pulled back, a serious note darkening his eyes so much that I expected him to either tell me something gloomy or ask me to marry him.

Oh, God. Where is that fucking straitjacket?

“I’ll drop you at the train station in the morning,” he said.

I forced my brain to focus, hardly able to believe what we were actually planning.

“But listen, I want you to ring me the moment you get back to London.”

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