Page 9 of Loving Roman
I wonder if Roman would want to come with me?
Don’t push the boundaries. We’ve agreed to spend this week together. Nothing more. He has his life to get back to and I have mine. I need to focus on settling inandimpressing my new boss, not pursuing a man I barely know—even if hedoesfeel familiar.
My flip-flops slap against the stone sidewalk as we stroll toward the café I want to try for lunch. Roman walks alongside me, keeping a respectable distance, but now and then, our hands brush. After the kiss we shared last night, I’m not sure why I feel too shy to link our fingers together, but I do.
Our time together is limited, so I shouldn’t waste a single moment.Who cares if he thinks I’m too forward?I’m sure he’ll tell me if he’s uncomfortable, and it’s not like I’ll ever see the man again after we part ways at the end of the week. I draw in a deep breath of briny air for fortitude, then close the distance between us and link my fingers through Roman’s much thicker ones.
His head drops, and his gaze latches onto our hands. He squeezes my fingers gently, giving me the reassurance I need that I did the right thing. Then his eyes rise to meet mine and a slow smile curves his lips, making the crinkles at the corners of his eyes deepen. So attractive.
We enter the café and are seated at a table overlooking the broad expanse of the ocean. The wild coastline below us and the glistening midday sun sending prisms of light across the waves steal my entire focus—so beautiful. So wild. Coming from a landlocked state, I never considered myself a lover of the ocean, but this vacation has changed my way of thinking.
“What’s put that look on your face?” Roman asks as he fills my glass with water.
I wait for him to finish pouring, then drink the cool liquid and swallow. His eyes track every movement with interest. “I just realized I love the ocean. It’s not something I thought about much where I lived before, but I’ve decided I’m a fan.”
He holds his glass to mine, and we clink them together. “Tonew discoveries,” he offers with a grin. The resonance of his tone as he says the words makes me think he means more than just me discovering I love the ocean. We both drink, our eyes remaining locked on the other. I feel his soulful irises dig deeper than the surface, seeing more than I normally share.
A waiter stops by and we place an order for a tasting board, then he leaves us alone. My stomach twists at being alone with Roman without an activity to distract us.What do we talk about when we agreed not to share personal details about our lives?
He drags his fingers up and down his glass, collecting the condensation, and I watch his long, thick fingers with interest. I bet they’d feel fantastic tracing over my skin. I shake the thought away and curl inward when I remember how my body’s changed over the last few years with perimenopause.
I watch his mouth tick up on one side as he studies me, making my skin heat and itch at the same time. “I know we’ve agreed not to share anything too personal, but I thought we could share some basic stuff.”
I tilt my head to the side and narrow my eyes. “Sounds like you’re trying to push the boundaries of our rules.”
He chuckles. A warm, husky sound that hits me straight in my nether regions. One broad shoulder lifts and drops carelessly. “Maybe. Would that be so bad?”
Maybe he’s not as satisfied as he seems to keep things superficial. “I guess not.” Raising an eyebrow, I ask, “Were you one to push the boundaries as a kid?”
He nods slowly. “My mother would say I definitely like to push the boundaries. I would say I like to learn about the world around me and how it and the people in it work.”
I chuckle at the opposing views of him and his mom. But what could it hurt to learn a little about each other? “Okay.”
He sits forward, wide, surprised eyes on me, like he can’t believe I agreed. “Okay?”
“Sure. But I still don’t want us to share anything that will give away what we do for work, or where we live. Deal?”
A gorgeous smile spreads across his face. “I can work with that.” He takes a drink, never taking his eyes off me, and I squirm in my seat. “What types of movies do you prefer?”
A breath escapes. “You’re starting out easy.” I grin. “Easy. My guilty pleasure is romance movies, but I’ll never say no to an action movie.” His eyebrows rise at my second preference. “What? Can’t a girl like a bit of action occasionally?”
He chuckles at my double entendre and waves his hand across the table. “I’m all for women getting all the action they can handle.” He finishes his sentence with a wink, and I flush at our flirting.This is flirting, right?It’s been such a long time.
The server brings our food, and neither of us hesitates to dig in. I scoop a generous amount of hummus onto a water cracker, while Roman stacks a slice of brie and a curl of prosciutto on his.
“So, does that mean a romantic action movie would be your favorite?”
I’m nodding before he can finish his question. “Absolutely. My favorite is a toss-up between Miss Congeniality and True Lies.” I lick the hummus from my fingers. “How about you?”
“Well, obviously, I’m a guy,” he starts.
I nod. “I can see that.”
He leans forward in his seat. “So, it would be a given that I’m a fan of action movies too”—I act surprised and Roman chuckles—“but I also enjoy a great comedy. Not the cheesy slapstick bullshit,” he clarifies. “I can’t stand that type of comedy.”
“What would be your favorite?”
His eyes rise to the ceiling, and he takes a deep breath. “Hmm, tough to choose. Give me a second.” He chuckles quietly. “Don’t hate on me, but probably Zoolander.”
