She was floored. “You don’t … I can’t … you can’t mean that,” she managed to sputter. Her heart beat frantically in her chest and she had trouble catching her breath. Two surprises in one day. First her father, now this. She reached for the water, but her hands shook so badly she had to put the glass down before she dropped it.
He raised the glass and held it to her lips. She took a long, cold sip, then licked the droplets off her mouth. “Thank you.”
He nodded. “I didn’t mean to blurt it out that way, but I did mean every word.”
She wondered when the room would stop spinning. “Roman, you can’t possibly want to get married.”
“Why not?”
She wished he’d look away, anything to break the connection, because those mesmerizing blue eyes were begging her to say yes, and to hell with the hows and whys. But her father’s timely return had shown her exactly why she couldn’t follow her heart. “Because …” She shut her eyes and attempted to formulate the best answer. The one that made the most rational sense. The one that explained their differences.
“I love you.”
Her eyelids fluttered open wide. “You can’t …”
He leaned forward, one arm propped over the back of the booth, and he shut her up with a kiss. A warm, heart-melting kiss. “You need to stop using that word—can’t,” he murmured, his mouth still lingering over hers. Then he locked his lips with hers again and swept his tongue deep inside, consuming her, until a low growl rose in her throat.
“Hey, Ma, look! They’re French kissing.”
“Eew, tongues and all. Can they do that in public?”
Charlotte and Roman broke apart. The heat from an embarrassed blush rose to her cheeks. She shook her head and laughed. “This from the kid who was using fish for target practice.”
“I asked you a question,” Roman said, all too serious.
“And you have to know my answer.” Her heart beat painfully in her chest. “I …” She licked her damp lips. “You’ve seen my parents, you know my mom’s life. How can you ask me to repeat it?” She hung her head, wishing with everything in her she could sustain the righteous anger she’d summoned at the baseball game, even if she had transferred her feelings from her father to Roman.
“I’m not asking you to relive their lives.” He held her face in his hands. Gently. Reverently.
The lump returned to her throat. “Are you planning on living in Yorkshire Falls?” She already knew the answer and prepared herself accordingly.
He shook his head. “But”—his fingers tightened around her face—“I’m looking into possibilities. I don’t want to lose you and I’m willing to work out a compromise. All I’m asking you to do is keep an open mind. Give me time to work out something we’ll both be comfortable with.”
She swallowed hard, unable to believe what she was hearing, unsure if she could trust in the intangible and not get hurt. Then again, she’d be hurt losing him any way things played out. She wanted more time with him before the inevitable happened.
If the inevitable happened. She shoved all thoughts of her parents from her mind. She’d have to deal with them soon enough. Roman had used the word compromise, which meant he was taking her needs into consideration. Unexpected adrenaline flowed through her system. “You said you loved me?”
He nodded. Swallowed. She watched his throat move convulsively up and down.
“I’ve never said that to anyone else.”
She blinked back moisture. “Me neither.”
His hands fell from her face to her shoulders. “What are you saying?”
“I love you too.”
“He’s gonna do it again,” one of the kids at the other table yelled.
“Eww,” his brother repeated, twice as loud.
Roman laughed and she felt his pleasure as strong and intense as her own.
“Can you imagine having a houseful of boys?” he asked.
“Don’t even joke about something so serious.”
He ignored her and merely grinned. “Boys run in my family and we both know it’s my genes that determine sex. And think about how much fun we could have making those babies.” His fingertips began a rhythmic massage of her shoulder muscles that turned into erotic foreplay.
Roman’s children. She trembled from the inside out, wanting more than she ever believed possible and knowing it was probably out of reach. They still had much to work out before she could let herself think about that kind of future.
But he’d touched her heart—owned it, actually. He always had, from the night he’d shared his deepest dreams and she’d had no choice but to push him away in response.
She hadn’t made any concrete decisions, but she knew she wouldn’t push him away now.
“Ready to order?” a tall, dark-haired waiter asked.
“No,” they both said at the same time.
Charlotte didn’t know how, but minutes later, stomach still empty and a twenty-dollar bill left on the table, they were back on the road, headed home, and half an hour after that, she let them into her dark apartment.
She hit the switch in the hall and the overhead lamp came on, bathing them in muted light. He kicked the door closed behind him and pulled her into his arms. Standing, she leaned against the wall as his lips came down hard on hers. His need was blatant, apparent, and as deep as her own. She shed her jacket, dropping it to the floor, and Roman made even faster work of her jersey, until she was wearing only her red boots, blue jeans, and white lace bra.
He sucked in a shallow breath as he traced the floral pattern with roughened fingertips. Her nipples pebbled beneath his touch and her body coiled tight, desire spiraling through her at a rapid pace.
“You’ve got to be hot in all those clothes.” She reached for the collar of his jacket and pulled it down, letting it join hers in a heap.
His blue eyes glittered with anticipation and desire. “What I’m feeling goes way beyond hot.” He pulled his navy shirt over his head and tossed
