Page 36 of Sinful Temptations

“Both.”

“Interesting.” His gaze lingered just a fraction too long, and I braced for an onslaught of questions. “Whatareyou doing tonight then?”

That wasn’t the question I’d been expecting. I thought he’d ask all sorts of random stuff like ‘was Oscar’s dick too small?’ or something just as humiliating. Curling up in bed with my current book and getting the night over with was at the top of my to-do list.

But his comment about me getting old whizzed through my brain like a dose of caustic soda. And the incessant clock reminding me that I was running out of time in Europe boomed in my head, a constant battle drum.

Boom. Boom. Boom.

It was time to get my fun Daisy Chayne hat on. With the intention of impressing Roman, I turned to him, smiling, and said, “Why don’tyoutell me what I’m doing tonight?”

His eyes lit up. He glanced from me to the road and back again. “I have the perfect idea.”

“Oh. Yay.”I think. Trying to assemble my thoughts, Ipictured what Roman’s perfect idea could be. A nightclub. The movies. Us getting all drunk and stupid and falling into bed together.

Oh, God. Where the fuck did that come from?

His silence was killing me. Roman didn’t usually do silent.

“Well, are you going to tell me?”

“No, it’s a surprise.”

“Oh. Come on.” I hated surprises. Actually, no, that wasn’t true. I had no idea if I liked surprises or not. I’d never had a man surprise me. Zali woke me a few times on the cruise ship with a blue cocktail in the middle of the night. That was my kind of surprise.

Was telling someone it was a surprise really a surprise?

The longer Roman remained silent, the more it troubled me.

He was a tad smug and even a little jittery, or maybe he was actually enjoying himself.

Deciding I’d act all aloof as if surprises were as common as wayward pubes, I stood, grabbed the microphone, and did my usual talk on Monaco and the casino choices. Unlike last month, most of this group wanted to go to the classy Casino de Monte-Carlo. I was a heartbeat off warning the ladies about Oscar. But I bit my tongue.

He’d done nothing wrong.

It had just been me and my stupid ideas that’d ruined that hot night of sex.

Once we had everyone checked into our hostel, and Roman and I were the only ones remaining in the lobby, I looked up at him, taking in his chiseled jaw, his neatly trimmed three-day growth that nearly swamped his dimpled chin, and his cherry popsicle lips that were just begging to be kissed.

My insides purred.

What the? I have lost my fucking mind.Wrestling my hornypussy back into its cage, I said, “Are you at least going to tell me what to wear?”

He lowered his gaze to mine, and a strange feeling cruised through me—a strong sense of belonging. Like Roman and I were longtime friends, reuniting after years apart. My heart soared like a helium balloon set adrift on a warm evening breeze.

“Wear whatever you want.” His smile had tiny lines creasing beside his honey eyes. The man was male perfection.

My blood pumped faster. “Awww, don’t do that to me. Are you getting dressed up?”

“No more than usual.”

What did that even mean? Hisusualwas like he was about to step onto the catwalk. He looked spectacular even in his drab, navy-colored polo uniform. “Should I wear high heels?”

“Daisy.” He touched his arm to my shoulder, smirking like I was his confused little sister. “Just be you.”

I blinked at him. Just be me? Ahhh, not so easy, people. Daisy’s identity took a boat ride into turbulent waters last month, and she’s still lost at sea.

We rode the lift together. At my floor, I stepped out and turned to him. “So, I’ll meet you in the lobby in thirty minutes, dressed to go to dinner, right?”

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