Make Me Crave

by Katee Robert

  “Hey.” She wrapped her arms around herself, wishing she’d worn something fancier. But that wasn’t Allie any more than the relaxed guy in the cargo shorts was Roman. Her wrap dress was nice, but if she didn’t miss her guess, he could pay her rent for several months with that suit.

  “Hey.” He took her hand and pulled her gently closer. The quick kiss he dropped on her lips made her heart ache because it was different, too. Cursory. Distracted. Lacking the heat she’d grown used to that was present in even the smallest of touches between them before.

  She disengaged her hand, forced a smile and slid into her seat. “You look nice.”

  “You’re stealing my line.” His lips quirked up as he sat across from her. “How was your day?”

  Horrible. I can’t pay my bills. I’m realizing I care about you a whole lot more than I expected, and the writing is on the wall that both this budding relationship and my ownership of my gym will end awfully. I’m in a funk I don’t know that I’ll ever get out of. She tried to smile. “It was okay.”

  Roman’s brows slanted down. “What’s the truth, Aphrodite? Because that’s not it.”

  She tensed. “Let it go. Please.” The last thing Allie wanted to do was rip herself open for him. She didn’t do that for anyone. She was the strong one. The one who got through things that would break other people and came out the other side swinging with everything she had. It couldn’t be clearer that this dinner was the end. Roman wanted things she couldn’t give him—and she wasn’t talking about her gym and the shelter. He wanted parts of her.

  No way.

  She gritted her teeth and resolved to get to the end of this date so she could secure Roman’s promise to leave her business the hell alone. Then she’d walk. Better to end things here and now instead of letting them drag on and enact any one of the horrible scenarios she’d tortured herself with earlier.

  The waitress appeared to take their drink order, and Allie was pathetically grateful for the distraction. She ordered a white wine and Roman had whiskey. Then the woman was gone and there was nothing to stand between them. She took a steadying breath. “I’m ready for your pitch.”

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  ROMAN STARED AT Allie across the table from him, feeling like he was on a boat headed for a storm, watching the receding shore of paradise and knowing he’d never see it again. Regardless of what she’d told him when she’d agreed to this date, it was clear she’d already made up her mind about both his proposal and him. It made him want to shake her, to force her to see that good things were within reach if she’d just lower the barriers the slightest bit.

  If she’d let him in.

  He sat back. Might as well get this over with, because he could already see that she wouldn’t let him get anywhere near anything personal until they’d both fulfilled their part of the bargain connected to her beloved gym. “I don’t have to tell you about the stats of women who feel harassed in their gyms, let alone their daily lives. With Transcend you’ve created a unique hook that my investor thinks will go over well as a small franchise. Something exclusive to a handful of big cities at first—LA, San Antonio, Seattle, Atlanta, Chicago. Boutique gyms are in right now, but this has the potential to last longer than the fad does, especially if there’s some kind of health plan and smoothie bar that goes hand in hand with it.”

  “That’s not what Transcend is about.”

  “That’s exactly what Transcend is about. You are a bastion of safety for women. They flock to that gym because it’s one of the few places they can let their guard down a little. You are the reason they feel safe, and the little community you’ve created.” He leaned forward and braced his forearms on the table. “Don’t women outside this city deserve that feeling, too?”

  She met his gaze directly. “There are other women-only gyms out there. Mine is far from unique.”

  “But yours is the only one connected with a shelter for battered women.” This was it. He’d lose her or have her based on this last part. “My investor is interested in continuing and expanding the work you do with the shelter.” The hope in her eyes killed him, so he spoke quickly. “With the caveat that you sign over the nonprofit entirely.”

  “What?”

  No use pussyfooting around it. “It’s not your passion. The brainchild was all yours, but the delivery has been lackluster at best. You help those women, and that is your passion, combined with the gym. But a successful nonprofit requires shmoozing and networking, and that’s a full-time job—a job it couldn’t be clearer you are not interested in. You haven’t done much with it up to this point.”

  “That’s not fair. I—”

  He held up a hand. “That wasn’t a criticism. You’re running two full-time businesses by yourself. It’s natural that things have fallen through the cracks as a result. My point—my investor’s point—is that if you delegate and hand off a few things, the whole operation could expand and run smoother as a result.”

  Allie sat back, the golden tone of her skin going pale with worry. “Even if I was interested in signing away everything I’ve worked for, what guarantee would I have that this investor of yours wouldn’t turn around and do exactly the opposite of what they’re proposing now?”

  “It’s something that could be stipulated in the contract.” He found himself holding his breath while she seemed to think it over.

  But she shook her head. “No. I can’t risk it. Those women depend on me to keep them safe, and I don’t know a single damn thing about this investor of yours. I’ve seen how flimsy paperwork can be when it comes to protection—might often makes right, and your investor has all of it.”

  She was technically right—even with the protections written into the contract, there were limits to what Allie could demand—but Roman knew this investor and he knew that the offer was legit. He wouldn’t have fielded it otherwise. “Trust me. I wouldn’t have brought this to you, especially after the last week, if I didn’t think it would honor what’s important to you.”

  “You keep saying that—to trust you. You haven’t done a single thing to earn this level of trust.”

  And fuck, that stung. He’d shared things with her last week that he didn’t talk about with anyone. Even though Allie was still guarded, he’d thought she’d shared shit with him, too. He wasn’t a sappy romantic, but that meant something.

  Or at least, he’d thought it had.

  Roman forced the tension from his shoulders. “I have only your best—”

  “No.”

  He waited for some kind of explanation, something he could work with, some sign that she wasn’t just shutting him out without explanation. None came. With a slow sinking in his stomach, he sat back. “And if I ask you on another date—if I want this to go somewhere—am I going to get the same answer?”

  Allie fiddled with her fork and then set it aside. “I’m sorry, Roman, but I just don’t see how this could possibly work out. We’re too different.”

  A nice pat explanation—and it was bullshit. “How are we supposed to give this a shot if you won’t talk to me? If you never talk to me. You came to dinner tonight with your responses already planned out. It didn’t matter what I said, because you were always going to tell me no to investing in the gym, and no to us dating.”

  She flinched. “I’m saying no to your investor because I don’t trust their intentions. And there is no us. I had a wonderful time with you on West Island, but that wasn’t reality. This?” She motioned between them. “This is reality. You in your expensive suit and me in my secondhand dress. I do whatever I can to help people, and you hurt them for your job. We’re just too different.”

  “That’s bullshit and you know it.” Frustration grabbed him by the throat. She was determined to see the worst in his choice of career, no matter what evidence he provided to the contrary. It didn’t matter if he laid out a list of all the happy business owners who had benefi
ted from him doing his job—Allie would pick out the one from the bunch who was pissed and then use it as proof that he was a monster. “You’re being a chickenshit. Newsflash, Allie—I’m not your father. I’m as far from that bastard as a man can get, but if you can’t see that, then maybe you’re right—we don’t stand a chance.”

  * * *

  Roman wasn’t saying anything Allie hadn’t said to herself, but somehow hearing those words—that condemnation—come out of his mouth sucked all the air out of the room. “That’s not fair.”

  “Neither is sacrificing a potential future with me because you’re scared.” He spoke low and fiercely, and part of her wanted to give in and just let him take the wheel. Roman was more than capable of taking care of both of them and guiding the relationship toward...

  What am I thinking?

  She knew what came from having to depend on a man. Even if Roman would never hurt her—and he wouldn’t—he was too overpowering and overwhelming. He would swallow her whole and all that would be left of her identity would be connected to him. Roman’s woman.

  Not Allie, strong and mostly confident business owner who didn’t need to lean on anyone. That person would be gone, and she’d never be able to get her back.

  If Allie didn’t have her gym, she didn’t have anything. She’d be starting over from scratch, selling her soul in the process. It was easy for Roman to tell her to trust him, to talk to him, when she was the one making all the sacrifices and he was making none.

  “Is that what you really think?”

  She hadn’t realized she’d spoken all those thoughts aloud, but she’d put it out there and she wasn’t about to take it back now. “Isn’t that the truth?” Roman had all the chips in this scenario—he had since they’d met. No, not since we met. That first night, we were on equal footing. There was no going back now, though. They were who they were, and neither of them could really change that.

  He clenched his jaw hard enough that she feared for his teeth. “Talk. To. Me.”

  “That’s exactly what I’ve been doing this whole time. Just because I’m not saying what you like doesn’t mean I’m wrong.” She slid out of the booth and stood. “This was a mistake.”

  “Allie, if you walk out that door, that’s it. I’m not going to chase your ass down just so I can keep bashing my head against the same damn wall.” He said it with such finality, her throat burned and her eyes prickled.

  Because this was it. They’d been hurtling toward this moment since the first time they’d realized each other’s identities. Part of her had thought they’d find a way around, but he was too uncompromising, too sure that he knew what was best for her.

  And he was right—he was nothing like her father or the abusive men who drove the women to her shelter in flocks. Roman would never hurt someone like that, no matter how angry. She’d stake her life on it.

  No, the damage he dealt wasn’t physical. It wasn’t even intentional. That didn’t stop her from feeling like he’d reached into her chest and ripped out her heart. “Goodbye, Roman.”

  “Allie, wait.”

  Her feet stopped, even as her brain demanded she keep moving. Almost against her will, she turned and looked at him.

  Roman stood and glanced around them. She’d been vaguely aware that they had an audience before then, but the reality of the situation came crashing down on her. She was having a very public breakup with a man who wasn’t even her boyfriend. This is what my life has come to. “If you have anything left to say, now’s the time.” She waited, holding her breath, wondering if maybe he’d say something that would override her fears and put them back on something resembling solid ground.

  He stepped closer and lowered his voice. The warmth was gone from his eyes, leaving the cold businessman in his place. “If you don’t take this investor’s offer, you’ll be sentencing both your gym and the shelter to death.”

  Allie flinched. She knew that she was in trouble better than anyone, but that didn’t mean she’d put the women who depended on her at risk. Not until she’d exhausted all other options. “I’ll find another way.”

  “Good fucking luck.” He shook his head and walked around her. “I do mean that, Allie. It’ll take a goddamn miracle to save you at this point, and you just turned down the helping hand I offered. That’s on you—not me.”

  She watched him walk away, a pit opening up inside her with no end. Allie had hit so many snags since she’d set herself on the goal of opening her own business and nonprofit, and every single one of them she’d fought her way through. By all rights she should be furious at Roman, and that should drive her to figure out a solution to this problem.

  But all she wanted to do was go home and cry herself to sleep.

  She turned to pay for their drinks but caught sight of a fifty that Roman had left on the table. Even pissed as hell, he had ensured that he held up his end of the bargain, at least when it came to this. Stop thinking about that. She’d given him the only answer she could. Ultimately, his investor could paint whatever pretty picture they wanted, because when push came to shove, money talked. Once the papers were signed and Allie was no longer in control, the investor could do as they pleased and she’d have no power to stop them.

  She’d made the right call. She was sure of it.

  She just didn’t know why it felt so freaking awful to have pulled the proverbial trigger and put an end to both the investor talk and her time with Roman. She should be relieved. It was over. She’d held up her end of the bargain, and she was free. Not to mention a vacation for the record books, the kind she’d remember fondly for as long as she lived...

  Even if all she felt right at that moment was overwhelming sadness.

  Allie left the restaurant, thought about grabbing a cab and ultimately decided to walk. She needed to expend some energy, to work her way through the crap circling in her head. Roman’s words kept ringing through her mind, telling her that she’d never figure out how to save her gym and the shelter on her own. That she was destined for failure.

  Fuck that.

  It was easier to focus on business than to deal with the yawning chasm of loss taking up residence in her chest. It didn’t matter how much she told herself that she and Roman would never work—she’d secretly hoped that he’d have a solution that would take care of her fears. Depending on Roman to shoulder all of that was totally fair. It wasn’t that... Allie shook her head and picked up her pace. Maybe it was partly that. She didn’t want to depend on him for everything—for anything—but she had still kind of been on the verge of doing exactly that. Weak.

  She couldn’t afford to be weak. Not in business, and not in her yearning for Roman.

  Allie still had to fight not to call him as she strode down the block toward her apartment. She wanted to talk to him, to yell, or cry, or...something. Connect. She’d been adrift for so long, and she hadn’t realized it until his grounding presence had slammed into her life. The fact they’d spent only a week together should have been a bucket of cold water on her, but it didn’t seem to make any difference. They had a connection, and it scared her. It didn’t seem to scare him as much, but what did he have to lose? The scales of their risk were not equal.

  Roman would move on with his life after this. She had no illusions that he’d be happy to leave her behind, but he was a driven individual who wouldn’t let a little heartache stop him from reaching his goals. He’d find a better-fitting investment for this client. And the next, and the next.

  Eventually he’d start dating. Even as chaotic as his schedule had to be, he was too much of the full package not to find a woman willing to put up with it. They’d date the appropriate amount of time and then he’d propose on an island a whole lot like West Island. Hell, maybe he’d actually propose there.

  The thought made her sick to her stomach.

  Just get home. You can break down when you get home.

 
; She flagged down a cab and rattled off her address. Through the entire drive, Allie focused on breathing, putting every bit of concentration she had on that single task. It got her as far as her front door and then she slumped to the floor. “Oh, God, what am I going to do?”

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  “YOU’RE IN A pissy-ass mood.”

  Roman stared at his drink. It was his second, and he forced himself to sip it instead of shooting it like he wanted to. No matter how good of a friend the man next to him was, he still couldn’t afford to lose control. Mostly because I’ll end up drunk texting Allie and making a damn fool of myself. “I’m fine.”

  Aaron Livingston snorted. “You’re about as far from fine as a man gets. I’ve never seen you this out of sorts about a deal falling through.”

  The deal and Allie were all twisted up in his head, and he couldn’t untangle them. That investor would have helped her. He couldn’t divulge details until the contracts were set, but his client, Clare Belford, was the perfect fit for that company. She had one of the biggest nonprofits for abused women in the country, and she’d loved the idea of Allie’s gym being linked up with several of them.

  Because of a nondisclosure agreement he had with Clare, he hadn’t been able to tell Allie that, but if she’d just trusted him, she would have found out shortly.

  Except she hadn’t trusted him.

  He was good enough to fuck, but anything beyond that was strictly off-limits. The thought had him downing the rest of his drink despite his best intentions. He motioned to the bartender to refill the glass, doing his best to ignore the curious look he could feel Aaron giving him. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “Holy fuck.” Aaron leaned against the bar, blue eyes narrowed. “It’s not business at all—it’s woman trouble.”