Page 39 of Sinful Temptations

With six minutes to spare, I applied my new makeup in record time. Tipping my head upside down, I gave my hair a full-on tussle. A couple of the curls bounced forward and I shoved them away. Other than that, I looked pretty good.

I wasn’t as pristine as I had been when I went to the casino, yet I felt just as good. This was more me. With a touch of berry-pink lipstick that the makeup specialist at Marks & Spencer had talked me into despite my repeated objections, my look was complete.

By the time I rode the elevator to the lobby, I was fidgeting with nerves, and I couldn’t decide if it was excitement over Roman’s surprise, the fact that I was actually going out with him and only him, or the anticipation of his reaction to what I’d chosen to wear.

Hell, it could be all three.

The doors opened and there he was, standing next to the giant fake plant display in the middle of the hostel lobby. His back was to me, and with one hand in his pocket and his casual stance, anyone could have thought he was posing for a magazine shoot.

He was the only man in the room, but even if there was a crowd, he’d stand out like a white stallion.

For one utterly piercing moment, I wanted to slink into the shadows and just watch him. He was wearing dark jeans that precisely molded to his bottom, showing off his manly physique. The short-sleeve shirt he’d chosen revealed histoned biceps, and the pale pink color enhanced his olive skin. When he turned to me and smiled, delicious throbs danced across my girly bits.

Whoa.I need to be careful, or I’m likely to do another boob squish thing like last month.

We strode toward each other. Our greeting was just a tad on the awkward side as we half hugged, half kissed each other’s cheeks.

“You look lovely.” A flush of red crawled up his neck.

Hmmm.Was that the first sign of awkwardness from the man who lived and breathed confidence?

I touched my fingers to my hair, playing with the curls. “So do you.”

“Shall we go hit the town?”

“Of course.”

Outside, he hailed a cab. We climbed in, and after he gave directions to the driver in French, he slipped back in his seat.

I ogled him.

“What?” He blinked at me.

“I didn’t know you spoke fluent French.”

He shrugged. “Growing up in Europe . . .”

He didn’t need to finish his sentence. Many people on this continent were bilingual, especially the younger ones. Europeans were lucky like that.

“Andyou know sign language.”

“I speak German too.”

Of course you do, Mr. Perfection.Next, you’ll be telling me you can cook. And ride horses. And rescue puppies.

I wanted to slap myself. What was wrong with me? Just because he had it all going on didn’t mean I had to be so snarky.

My only claim to fame was my photographic memory. Except for my job, where my special skill provided mycustomers with endless information about the places we visited, myskillwas mostly useless.

I had totally misjudged Roman. When I’d first met him, I’d thought he’d only got the job at Vacation Dreamz because of his stunning looks. But he really was the textbook candidate. He was fun, intelligent, and sociable.Oh, and he had muscles in all the right places.

Oh God, I need to be careful.

“I hope you’re hungry?”

“Always.”

His brows rose up. “Always?”

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