Page 63 of Sinful Temptations

The smell alone had my stomach growling. My last meal had been the slice of toast with honey I’d half-eaten at breakfast. “That smells yummy.”

“Good. It’s myPappa al Pomodoro.”

My jaw fell open. “You cooked?”

“Sì, I cooked. Why does that shock you?”

“Sorry, I know you can cook. It’s just . . .” I blinked at him. “You did that for me?”

“Of course.” He shifted a bowl from the tray to the table and glanced at me. “That’s what friends are for.”

I had a feeling he wanted to say more, so I waited. But as a frown rippled his forehead, he turned back to the meals. “I know you like a little spice, but I toned it down a bit, just in case it upset your stomach even more. Are you feeling better?” The sincerity in his eyes had my heart swelling.

“Yes, you always make me feel better. And champagne.” But it was something else in his eyes that made me pause. Compassion. Loyalty. Sisterly love. Whenever I was in his company, I felt different. Complete. Like he made my world whole. No man had ever made me feel like that.

Again, his gaze lingered on me just a touch too long, giving me the impression he wanted to ask a burningquestion. His expression indicated it was something troubling. Yet he held back.

“What?” I clenched my jaw, ignoring the sucker punch in my gut.

“Nothing.”

“Hmmm. You know how you always say that I can tell you anything?”

He nodded with a wry smile. “You can. Anything.”

“Well, the same goes for you, Roman. You can talk to me about anything.”

His smile morphed into a frown. “I do. Always.”

“Okay . . . in that case, just a moment ago, when you were putting those dishes out, I could tell there was something you wanted to tell me. But you resisted.”

He shook his head and returned his attention to removing the cork from the champagne.

“Come on. You always make me tell you my secrets.”

He looked at me, really, truly looked at me, and at first, I thought he was stalling, but the intensity in his gaze told me he was preparing to say something that had my insides clenching.

I cocked my head. “Come on. Tell me.”

“It’s just . . . I’m really proud of you.”

“What?” I blinked at him. “Why?”

“’Cause I could tell that was really hard for you today, yet you pushed on.”

“I had a great time.”

He rubbed the stubble on his chin. “Maybe. But I know you only did it to please me.Si?”

My shoulders slumped. “Not just you, Roman. I’m running out of days in Europe. I need to make every day count.”

Pouring our drinks, a complicated expression wobbledacross his face. “I can’t believe you have to leave. I enjoy doing things with you.”

My jaw fell open and if it were possible, my tongue would’ve hit the floor. But the butterflies in my stomach did the most delightful dance. The way he’d said those lovely words, with a deep throaty tone laced with sincerity, had me believing him. I curled a loose hair behind my ear and wincing, dragged my knees up higher. “You’re sweet.”

“I mean it, Daisy. You’re fun even when you are sick.”

Every single trouble in my world vanished with his compliment. His gaze flitted between my eyes and my lips. Could he be interested in me? Roman always made me feel special, and his praise took me to a whole new world, but was I more than just a pretend little sister who needed some brotherly love?

---