“The Shark and Fin is more a local thing,” she’d said. “Morrie liked it that way. Of course, you could really beef up the business if you wanted to do a little advertising.”
“I want to keep the Shark and Fin just the way it is,” he’d reiterated. “If making a million bucks a year was all I cared about anymore, I’d have stayed in New York.”
That was as personal as the conversation had gotten.
Roman shut the books. The bar did a good business. The bills were paid up-to-date, and the staff didn’t appear to have much turnover. He didn’t want to rush into the deal, though. What if Leah left Thunder Key? He had no guarantee she’d stay on after he bought it. For now he got the sense she felt an obligation to Morrie to watch over the bar while he was trying to sell it.
No way was Roman rushing this deal.
Morrie wasn’t in a hurry, either. It was clear he was concerned about who bought the bar and what would happen afterward. In particular, he was worried about Leah. Morrie had carefully avoided giving any personal information about Leah to Roman, but the older man clearly respected and cared deeply about the woman he’d left in charge of his bar. Smart, hardworking, reliable…the list of compliments for Leah had gone on and on. And glad as he was that there had been a kind, caring person to watch over Leah when she’d needed it, it still bugged the hell out of him that it had been a stranger.
Why hadn’t Leah come to him? She’d lost her memory, yet run to Thunder Key. Why?
It drove him insane to think about it. There was a place in his heart that wanted to believe she’d come here instinctively, drawn by the happy moments they’d spent on Thunder Key together.
But she’d still blocked him out. She’d come to Thunder Key, not to Roman.
The office phone rang but he didn’t pick up. It was connected to the same line that was in the bar, and he had no reason to expect a call. Then Joey stuck his head in the door and told him the phone was for him.
He should have known.
“Hey, bud.”
“Mark.” He should have known his mother would get right on the question of what Roman was doing giving up all readily accessible means of communication and buying a bar in the Keys. And since his parents and sister had made no headway with him, she’d turned to his brother-in-law to do the job.
“So it’s true. You’re buying a bar in the Keys.”
“Yes. I’m buying a bar in the Keys,” Roman said mechanically. “Anything else I can help you with, Mark? I’m pretty busy here, actually.”
“Just checking on you. There are people who care about you, you know. And we worry.”
Yes, he knew. “I appreciate that, Mark. But you can tell everyone that I’m not ready for the straitjacket yet. I’m making an investment. That’s all. Just doing business.”
“I hope that’s all it is,” Mark said. He hesitated a beat. “Roman, those questions you were asking me the other day, about amnesia…”
Roman tensed. “What about it?”
“Why were you asking those questions?”
“I don’t have time to talk, Mark.”
“Roman, I know sometimes when people are going through the grief process, there’s a part of them that wants to look in every face and see the person they’ve lost. They never found Leah’s body and that was hard for you to deal with. But she’s dead. There’s no way she could have survived. If you think you’re going to find her again in Thunder Key, if you’ve got some crazy scenario going in your head that she survived the crash and is living in Thunder Key with amnesia—”
Roman closed his eyes for a frustrated beat. His blood pressure was fast approaching the danger point.
“There’s no point wallowing in that girl’s death,” Mark said. “I’m sorry that she died. We’re all sorry that she died. But you’ve got to move on now. I hate to say it, but you’re better off without her and—”
That did it.
“I’m not better off without her. In fact, I’m not planning to be without her!” Damn. He hadn’t meant to blurt that out. Seeing Leah again had sent his emotional control into a tailspin.
“That sounds crazy, Roman. That’s what she did to you. She made you crazy. You weren’t yourself after you married her.”
“No, I was myself after I married her and that was the whole problem.”
“The problem was you married the wrong woman. And she died. It was tragic, but it’s over. You need help, Roman. You need—”
“I need Leah. And I don’t give a damn how you or anyone else feels about it. I’m not crazy. She’s here, Mark. She’s alive.” God, he hadn’t meant to tell him that. He wanted to bang the phone down in frustration, but he couldn’t leave it this way. “I don’t know what happened the night her car went over that bridge, but I’m going to find out. And you’re going to stay the hell out of it.”
“Roman—”
“Don’t say a word about this to Gen or my parents. You know how they are, how they felt about Leah. About our marriage. And with everything I’m trying to work through now… They don’t need to know. Not right now. It would just upset them, and you know it. And do not—I repeat, do not—come down to the Keys. Don’t even call again. Tell my family I’m fine—because that’s the truth, and that’s all they need to know.” He took another steadying breath. He had to get Mark on his side. “Mark, I know you love Gen. Think how you’d feel if she disappeared and then you found her again. I need time. I’m counting on you to give me that.”
Mark was silent for a beat. “All right. I won’t tell anyone about Leah—if that’s really who it is. You’re right—that information would just upset people. But be careful. And I mean that.”
Roman hung up the phone and headed straight for the kitchen, drawn by the smell of frying fish and the hope that Leah was there. He had to see her again. Telling someone she was alive had felt so strange. No doubt Mark thought he was nuts now. Sometimes even he thought he was nuts. Every time Leah was out of his sight, he started to think he’d imagined her all over again.
Could he trust Mark to keep the news about Leah quiet? The truth was, he didn’t know. But there’d be hell to pay if anyone in his family interfered with him and Leah now.
Joey was at the stove, ladling chowder into a huge bowl.
“Leah said to help yourself,” Joey said. “If you’re thinking about buying the bar, you might as well find out if you like my cooking.”
“Does Leah cook?” She’d been the worst cook in the world, which he’d always found oddly charming since she was so creative in other ways. To find her running a bar and grill was ironic.
“Nope. She has a black thumb in the kitchen, she says.” Joey watched him. “Are you really interested in the bar, or are you just trying to hook up with Leah?”
“Well, why don’t you tell me what’s really on your mind,” Roman said dryly.
Joey didn’t smile. “We’re shorthanded today. One of the waitresses called in sick. Want to help out?”
Roman figured that was as much leeway as he was going to get from the wary cook. “All right.” In New York he sat behind a desk and ran the show. In the Keys he was just another guy, even if he was possibly Joey’s new boss. He’d have to prove himself. It surprised him that he didn’t mind. In fact, he took it as a challenge. “Where’s this going?” He took the bowl of chowder. Joey ladled out a second one.
The cook pointed to a numbered table layout, faded and splattered, nailed on the wall. “Table six.” He turned back to the stove.
Roman carried the bowls out through the swinging doors that separated the kitchen from the bar. The phone was ringing behind the bar. Leah finished filling a glass at the beer tap, then picked it up.
“Shark and Fin.”
Roman moved through the bar, set the bowls of chowder in front of the men at table six. When he turned back to the bar, Leah had an irritated frown on her face. She hung up the phone.
“You’re waiting tables now?” she asked.
“Sure. Might as we
ll get to know the business from the ground up. I’m thorough. That’s how I operate.”
She went back to the beer tap, filled another glass. “Great,” she said, pushing a tray at him. She put a couple more beers on it. “That goes to the table by the door.”
And for the next hour and a half, Roman wore his feet out going back and forth between the kitchen and the bar and the various tables. He noticed that Leah kept up a relaxed interchange with the customers, whose garb varied between scruffy fishermen’s duds and T-shirts and shorts. She smiled that crooked, killer smile of hers—but never at Roman. Whenever he caught her eye, her expression would immediately darken, something frightened lurking there.
He tried to think of ways to approach her without scaring her, but couldn’t think of a damn one except for the one he couldn’t possibly do, which involved kissing the hell out of her. It just about turned his torn-up heart inside out every time he looked at her. Not being able to touch her—yet seeing her, being so close to her—was worse than any medieval torture.
The lunch crowd thinned, and Joey had the temerity to put him to work doing dishes. Roman was pretty sure the cook was testing him. He took it as another challenge and loaded and unloaded every plate as if he was making a fortune on Wall Street doing it.
By the time he was nearly done, his hands were red from the hot water. He hadn’t seen Leah in way too long. He was like an addict, but he had no intention of getting Leah out of his system.
He was on the last load when he heard the sound of the swinging door.
“Whoa,” he said, turning his head to see her stop short as she almost ran into him in the cramped space. She had a tray full of beer mugs in her hands.
He could hear the phone ringing from the now-quiet bar. The jukebox had been going all through lunch, but the bar had emptied for the afternoon lull.
“Wow, now you’re doing dishes. You’re really serious about this.”
“Morrie suggested I get a little hands-on experience,” Roman explained. The small washer in the narrow galley-style kitchen was only a few feet from the door. Leah stood there with the tray, looking as if she wanted to just turn around and back out, and dammit, he didn’t want her to.
He picked up a dish, trying to think of something to say to make her stay.
“So,” he started gamely, turning back to look at her over his shoulder as he placed the dish into the washer rack. “When does it usually pick up—”
“Leah—” Joey called her name as he pushed through the swinging doors. Leah started to move out of the way but lost her balance, the tray of mugs teetering in her hands.
Roman had just enough time to turn and grab her.
The tray of mugs—some empty, some not—went flying as Leah stumbled forward. Straight into Roman. He couldn’t have been holding her any closer if he’d tried. He managed to catch her before she hit the floor—but not before she wound up wet. Shattered mugs lay everywhere as the odor of spilled beer filled the air.
Leah caught herself by grabbing on to him, too. For just a second, an incredible heartbeat, her green sea-storm eyes flashed at his and she was in his arms. His heart went nuts. He wasn’t thinking, just reacting, and he pulled her against him, closed his eyes, breathed.
Breathed Leah.
“Oh, God, I’m sorry.” Joey’s voice broke through the moment.
Leah untangled herself from Roman’s arms.
The sudden feeling of bereavement shocked him. For that one second, he’d held Leah. He’d had no idea how wonderful…and how awful…it would be.
Because now she wouldn’t even look at him. It was as if he was the bubonic plague, personified.
“I’m okay,” she said. “Just wet, that’s all.” She gave a little laugh, but it sounded forced. “What a mess.”
“I’ll get it,” Roman said. “You might want to get changed.”
Her damp shirt clung to her softly rounded breasts. She went for a broom and dustpan.
“Leah, the phone was for you,” Joey said.
Roman took the broom out of her hand. “I’ll take care of this.”
“Thank you.” Still, she didn’t look at him. “Who’s on the phone?” she asked Joey.
“I don’t know. Someone asking for you,” Joey said with a shrug.
Leah disappeared through the swinging doors.
Roman finished up, then went out into the bar. Leah stood behind the bar counter, staring at the phone.
“Everything okay?” he asked.
She nodded. “Fine.” She gave him a quick look, then crossed her arms over the front of her wet shirt, now plastered to her breasts. “I’ve got to change. Don’t want the customers thinking we’re running a wet T-shirt contest.”
“Wait!”
She chewed her lip, turned back.
“I’m sorry about getting you wet. I couldn’t catch you and the tray—”
“Not your fault. Thanks for cleaning up the mess.”
He hesitated. “How about I rustle up some leftovers, whatever I can come up with in the kitchen, and we have a late lunch in Morrie’s office. I’ve got a couple questions.”
He didn’t have any questions, but he’d make some up if he had to. “You do eat, right? I promise, I don’t bite. Hard.”
She laughed, and this time she met his eyes. “Okay. Thanks.”
Progress, Roman thought. Tiny steps.
He wanted to take flying leaps, but he’d be satisfied with one tiny step at a time. For now.
Leah ran up the back stairs. She felt off, weird. She didn’t know if it was because she’d literally fallen into Roman’s arms—and he’d been muscle, all muscle—or because that was twice now that someone had hung up on her on the phone.
It creeped her out, being hung up on. Twice. The first time, it was probably just a wrong number. It wasn’t uncommon for someone to mistakenly call the Shark and Fin, thinking they’d dialed their aunt’s or cousin’s or best friend’s number instead. But the second time, someone had asked Joey for Leah. Then they’d hung up. It was probably nothing, but it bothered her just the same. Anything out of the norm bothered her.
Roman bothered her.
But how could she say no to lunch? It was an innocuous request. He was interested in the bar. There was no solid reason to think he wasn’t legit.
Morrie was going to check him out. She wondered if he’d found out anything.
When she reached her apartment, she shut the door and peeled off her wet shirt. Her body felt chilled even in the warm lazy air of her apartment. Quickly she tried to wipe the beer smell from her with a damp cloth, then she pulled on another T-shirt from a drawer. It was hot pink, like her nails. It had the number thirteen on the front.
She liked the number thirteen. She had no idea why, as usual. But she’d been drawn to the shirt the second she’d laid eyes on it in the T-shirt shop in Smugglers Village.
Just like she was drawn to Roman.
But something bothered her about Roman, too, and she was too confused to figure out whether it was that she was attracted to him or that he was someone from the past. Maybe he reminded her of someone from the past. He’d said they didn’t know each other. But trusting him was no easy thing. She barely knew him.
She took the phone from the little kitchenette and curled up on the love seat.
“Hey, Morrie,” she said when he picked up.
“How’s my girl?”
“Good.” Just hearing Morrie’s voice soothed her nerves. She missed him, missed his stabilizing presence in her life. But she had to get used to his being gone. If the bar sold, that would be it. He’d move to New Mexico. She couldn’t depend on Morrie forever. “I just wanted to let you know how things were going.” She just wanted to hear his fatherly voice.
She told him about her tour of the town with Roman, how he’d helped out around the bar.
“We’re about to go to your office to talk about the books. I wanted to let you know, to see if you’d be available if he has any questions I can’t a
nswer.”
“I’ll be here,” Morrie said. “I put in a couple calls to New York. Bradshaw’s a pretty well-known name there. Roman Bradshaw is one of the heirs to the zillion-dollar Bradshaw dynasty. His family owns Bradshaw Securities, among other things. It’s some kind of Wall Street trading firm. He’s got money running through his veins. Apparently his wife died a while back and he’s taken a leave from the company.”
Leah’s grip on the phone tightened. She didn’t know if she was relieved, or even more worried. Roman was for real. Great. He wasn’t some kind of weirdo trying to make a play for her and using the bar as an excuse. It was also true that he had a recently deceased wife. But this meant he really did have the money to buy the bar. He’d be part of her life, unless she left. That was an option she’d never considered and didn’t want to consider now.
Thunder Key was the only home she knew.
Get over it, Leah. He’s just a man.
Just a hot, intense, heart-stoppingly gorgeous man who had the saddest eyes she’d ever seen…and the cutest smile. All at once.
Morrie promised he’d be around if she needed to call with questions, and she uncurled from the love seat. Time to go down to the office.
She darted a quick look in the mirror in her bathroom. She ran a comb through her hair and started to pick up a tube of lipstick, then stopped.
What was she doing? This was not a date.
She headed down the stairs. Roman waited for her in Morrie’s office. He had two plates of Joey’s fish and chips laid out on the desk. Napkins. A bottle of beer for each of them. He’d even brought ketchup and tartar sauce.
“Thanks.” She sat down.
He’d pulled up a folding chair from somewhere and left Morrie’s creaky but comfortable desk chair for her. Of course, she wasn’t comfortable. Not with Roman Bradshaw sitting next to her, with his midnight-ocean eyes and too-nice smile.
Her Man To Remember Page 5