by Nikki Ashton
‘Is that your A game that you’re bringing to me, Mr. Hepburn?’ I said with a shake of my head. ‘Because for an apology, that was pretty pathetic, especially after your special levels of misery.’
Roman dropped his head back and laughed loudly. ‘Okay,’ he said, grinning. ‘How about I take you out to dinner, tomorrow evening?’
I tilted my head in the pretence of contemplating his invitation, but really, I had no need to think about it.
‘Okay, we’ll see whether you can do any better over dinner.’
Roman grinned and leaned forward, dropping a gentle kiss to the side of my mouth. I held my breath, recalling what those lips had felt like before—and they were so much better than I remembered.
‘Good,’ he replied, his lips still on mine. ‘I’ll pick you up at eight-thirty to take you into the office.’
‘Okay,’ I said on a long breath. ‘See you in the morning.’
Roman’s engine idled as I walked up the drive, and when I turned at the front door, he gave me a wave before he sped away, leaving me feeling like a gooey pool of girliness.
The next morning, I got out from under my duvet faster than I ever had before. The thought of Roman picking me up made me as nervous as a turkey the week before Christmas, plus, I wanted to look my very best. My usual practice of getting up twenty minutes before I was due to leave the house just wouldn’t be conducive to me looking fabulous.
Waiting for Roman to turn up, I sat on the arm of Dad’s favourite armchair and watched through the window, intermittently wiping my damp palms on my skirt. Today I had gone for a 1950s sexy-siren look: tight black pencil skirt, black-and-white polka-dot blouse with cute, short puffed sleeves, a wide, waist-synching, red leather belt and matching red Louboutin peep-toe shoes: my precious babies, who only normally came out for very special occasions—and this was one of those times.
As I finished checking my scarlet lipstick in the mirror over the fireplace, I heard the short burst of a horn outside. I ran over to the window and looked through to see Roman’s truck at the end of the drive. It was almost five minutes past eight—any later and I would have thought he’d changed his mind.
‘Morning,’ I gasped as I plonked myself into the passenger seat.
‘Morning,’ Roman replied with a cheeky smile. ‘I stopped and got you something.’ He nodded towards a bag in the footwell.
I frowned at him and reached down for the bag. ‘What is it?’ I peeked inside and spotted a takeout cup of coffee and a chocolate muffin.
‘Oh, thank you,’ I said, my heart giving an extra little beat.
‘Well,’ he said with a shrug, ‘I figured I have a fair amount of making up to do.’
I so desperately wanted to reach over and give him a little peck on the cheek, but decided maybe it wasn’t appropriate to kiss your boss. Okay, so we’d already had a really hot kiss, and one little sweet kiss last night, but we’d leave it at that for now.
‘Thank you, anyway.’ His reward was my sweetest smile. ‘And thank you for picking me up.’
Roman arched an eyebrow. ‘I wasn’t sure you’d be speaking to me, to be honest.’
‘Why?’
‘After that dreadful meeting with my parents?’ He gave a little shudder, making me laugh.
‘Seriously, it wasn’t that bad, and to be fair, you did warn me.’
‘Nothing can prepare you, though,’ Roman said, starting the truck. ‘My mum even called the house this morning and asked to speak to you.’
‘What?’ I cried, thankful I hadn’t taken a sip of my coffee yet.
Roman chuckled and quickly glanced at me. ‘I did tell you. She didn’t believe we weren’t an item, and that you weren’t staying with me last night.’
My breath started to speed up at that thought, and I fought the urge to let out a little moan.
‘But, like I said to her, all in good time, mother, all in good time.’
That time I did let out a little moan.
We had been in the office for a couple of hours, and had barely spoken two words to each other, as Roman was too busy on the phone in his office.
As soon as we’d walked through the door his mobile had shrilled out and hadn’t stopped since. Every time he came into my office, to drop paperwork on my desk, or ask for a cup of coffee, his phone was at his ear, and while he couldn’t really speak to me, I sensed that Roman was feeling really stressed. His shoulders were practically hunched to his ears, and his hair looked like he’d just got out of bed after a restless night.
Finally after a few hours of huffs and sighs and much pacing, he came into my office without his mobile.
‘Do you want a coffee?’ I asked, getting up from my desk.
Roman rubbed a hand over his face and sighed. ‘Please, that would be great. Thanks.’
I gave him a small smile and went to make the coffee. As I stood waiting for the kettle to boil, I felt Roman’s presence behind me.
‘Shit, what a morning.’
I turned to see him raking a hand through his hair—again. He looked anxious and tired, and it wasn’t even lunchtime.
‘Anything I can help with?’ I asked.
‘Can you lay bricks?’ Roman asked, giving me a small smile.
I screwed up my face, as though thinking. ‘Nah, sorry. I can make a mean lasagna, would that help?’
‘Unfortunately not, but you can make it for me one day.’
Then he winked at me, and I lost my breath. I liked this Roman: this Roman was sweet and fun. This Roman wanted my lasagna—what more could a girl want?
‘If you carry on being nice, I might just make you a cake too,’ I joked, turning back to the now boiled kettle.
As I spooned coffee into a mug, I was startled as Roman gently laid his hand at my waist and moved his mouth to my ear.
‘Oh, and by the way, I should have said earlier, you look beautiful today.’
As he moved away from me, I inhaled sharply, placing a hand against the thrumming beat in my chest.
It was almost time to finish for the day when Roman returned from a site visit to the warehouse conversion that we were doing. He’d been gone for a couple of hours, and I’d strangely missed him. It wasn’t as though I wasn’t used to having the office to myself, because I was—he often went on site—but today was different and I craved for his return. Every time the door had opened I’d held my breath and waited in anticipation for it to be Roman. Debbie from Accounts and Maddie from Wages—although lovely—didn’t give me the same thrill. So when he finally did reappear, I couldn’t help the huge grin that lit up my face.
‘Hey, how did it go?’ I asked brightly.
‘Not good.’ Roman took off his suit jacket and threw it at the wall. A cloud of plaster dust fluttered through the air.
‘Shit!’
I wasn’t sure whether it was the fact that he appeared to be covered in plaster dust, or if it was something else that was ‘Not good’.
‘What happened?’ I got up from my seat and picked up his jacket.
Roman sighed heavily and pinched the bridge of his nose as he perched on the edge of my desk.
‘The plasterer that Nige recommended is what happened. His work is shit and so it’s all going to have to come off.’
Nigel was one of our more experienced project managers, so I was a little surprised that he’d made such a big mistake.
‘Really, it’s that bad?’ I asked.
Roman nodded and looked up at me with tired eyes.
‘It’s not evenly spread and bumpier than a farm track in places. It’s just not acceptable. That’s why I’m in such a mess. I got a little bit angry, shall we say, and kind of attacked it with the decorator’s scraper.’ He afforded me a small smile as he brushed dust from his trousers.
‘How many rooms are we talking about?’
‘All five bedrooms; thankfully he hadn’t started downstairs.’
‘I don’t understand why Nige didn’t pick up on it,’ I replied as I hung Roman’s jac
ket over the back of the chair we kept for visitors.
‘He’s been off-site for two days trying to source replacement timber for interior doors as the last lot was shit. That’s why I went down there, just to check everything was okay.’
‘No wonder it’s bad work if he’s plastered five rooms in two days.’ Good plastering was an art, and while an experienced plasterer could work quickly, that amount of rooms in two days was definitely too quick.
‘Exactly. The guy reckons it was the bad light and that it only needs re-working in certain areas, but it isn’t. It all needs re-plastering and the worst part is, he’s going to have to do it. I don’t have time to get anyone else in.’
Roman looked utterly defeated as he stood up and walked towards his office. He stopped in the doorway and turned to me.
‘Any chance of a cuppa?’
I gave him a soft smile and nodded. ‘Do you fancy a biscuit too?’
The smile he returned made me falter. It was beautiful and gave some light to his tired features. Unable to speak—because if I did I was sure I’d sound like a budgie on helium—I simply nodded and turned away.
I had no idea what this man was doing to me, but it was causing my heart strings to strum in time with my throbbing nipples.
When I got home that evening, I raced upstairs and flung open my wardrobe door. What the hell was I going to wear? Roman had said that he’d pick me up at seven-thirty, but, stupidly, I hadn’t even thought to ask what I should wear. Smart, casual, formal, informal—I had no clue. I needed help, so I picked up my mobile and dialled Emma.
‘Hey sweetie,’ she answered on the second ring.
‘Hi Em, I need your help.’
I explained about my date with Roman and then waited for a couple of minutes until she stopped squealing with glee down the phone.
‘Oh. My. God,’ she gasped. ‘All that sexual tension from your kiss has been brewing nicely. Where’s he taking you?’
‘I have no idea,’ I groaned. ‘That’s why I’m ringing you. I need ideas on what to wear. I’m such an idiot, I should have checked.’
‘Okay, calm down,’ Emma soothed on the other end. ‘If it’s dinner and it’s Roman, then it’s going to be pretty swish I would say.’
‘What makes you say that?’
‘Just by looking at him. I know I’ve only met him once, but he doesn’t seem the burger-and-chips type of man. He oozes sophistication.’
‘Did you damn well sigh, then?’ I asked sitting bolt upright.
Emma giggled. ‘Maybe. You have to admit—he’s bloody splendid.’
‘Hmm,’ I grunted with a little smile of my lips. She was right—he was bloody splendid.
‘Hey, you’re supposed to have the major hots for Henry.’
‘I do.’ A very definite sigh echoed down the line this time.
‘So how was your date on Friday? All you sent me was one damn text that said: Sigh and had a love heart on it, and that you’d call me later, but you didn’t.’
‘I know, I’m sorry,’ Emma groaned. ‘But we’ve been so busy at work, I’ve not been getting home until gone eight most nights and then just crashed.’
‘You haven’t even spoken to Henry then?’ I asked, my tone dripping with sarcasm. The ‘ums’ and ‘ahs’ on the other end of the line gave me my answer. ‘It’s fine, Em. I get it you really like him and maybe like him more than me now. It’s not a problem,’ I joked.
‘Sorry, am I a really bad friend?’
‘God, no. I’m really pleased you’ve found someone you like.’
And I really was. She was such a lovely person and good friend that I wanted her to be happy. Yes, I would like to be in her position, in the first throes of what appeared to be an easy relationship, but then the man I wanted a relationship with was Roman, who also happened to be my boss.
‘We’ve spoken to each other every night for hours, and then went out again on Wednesday night,’ Emma said dreamily. ‘He’s so gorgeous and—shit—he can kiss.’
‘Still no sexual shenanigans, then?’ I giggled.
‘No.’ Another sigh, but this one sounded a little disappointed. ‘I mean we did steam up his car windows when he dropped me home, but no clothes were removed, and while I knew beyond doubt he was excited, I didn’t actually touch his hot rod.’
‘Emma, just say it!’ I burst out laughing.
‘No, it’s his hot rod, his disco stick. What do you want me to call it? Because I’m telling you now, I cannot, and will not, use the “C” or the “D” word. You know I find them offensive.’
‘What’s wrong with “cock” or “dick?’’ I asked, knowing how Emma hated those words.
‘Ugh, no, no, no, no, no. Don’t say them.’
‘Coc—’
‘Summer! If you say it, I’ll say the “M” word, and, to topple you over the edge, I’ll combine it with the “P” word.’
I gasped. ‘You wouldn’t!’
‘I would!’
‘You wouldn’t dare!’ The words actually made me want to vomit and she knew it.
‘Moist panties!’ she squealed, followed by howls of laughter.
‘I hate you. I really feel sick now,’ I whimpered.
‘I really don’t understand you,’ Emma laughed. ‘You’re so common in so many ways, yet you hate the words “moi—”’
‘Emma, stop it, don’t!’
Emma laughed louder.
‘Okay, we’re even now. So,’ she said, all business-like, ‘let’s get this outfit sorted.’
Roman placed his palm against the small of my back as he led me into the restaurant. I’d been surprised when we started to drive out of town, expecting to go to one of the local pubs, but as we pulled up outside the beautiful black-and-white house, my excitement levels had risen, and I was glad that I’d worn the little black dress and silver Manolo Blahnik sandals that Emma had suggested.
This restaurant, Bennett’s, was supposed to be one of the best in the area, having been taken over by the Premiership footballer, Joe Bennett, about a year ago. I couldn’t believe that Roman had brought me here on a first date. At least, I hoped that this was a first date; it seemed like it was, but then one never knew with Roman.
‘Oh my God, Roman,’ I gasped. ‘It’s beautiful.’
The room was bathed in candlelight, and on each table stood tall, thin vases of flowers. The light bounced off the glasses and silverware and a gorgeous smell of lilac hung in the air. As it was a Friday night the place was busy, but there was still a relaxed atmosphere, with a gentle noise of chatter in the background.
‘I’ve been to Bennett’s in town, the first one he opened,’ Roman said, ‘and really enjoyed it, so thought I’d give this place a try. Luckily they’d had a cancellation.’
‘I did wonder how you managed to get a table. I hear it’s really popular,’ I grinned, ‘with women desperate to catch a glimpse of Joe Bennett.’
Joe Bennett was not only a Premiership footballer, but also the England Captain and really good-looking—a bit too pretty for me, but I could see the attraction. He’d played abroad for a while, but came back a few years ago when he rekindled his romance with his childhood sweetheart—amidst quite a lot of furore, seeing as she was engaged and then married to a psychopath, who later kidnapped and beat her up.
‘Hmm,’ Roman grunted. ‘He’s a good footballer, but can’t say that I’m attracted to him.’
‘Me neither,’ I sighed. ‘Far too pretty for me. I much prefer a man with a bit of scruff and muscle.’ Okay, so that pretty much described Roman. I couldn’t get any more obvious.
Roman looked at me with wide eyes and then smiled. Shit, there it went again—my breath disappearing from my lungs.
‘Sir, do you have a reservation?’ the maître d’ asked.
Roman gave his name and we were shown to our table. It was situated in the bay of the window and overlooked the tree-lined driveway. Every tree was covered in fairy lights, curling up the trunks and into the branches, and it loo
ked magical.
As we decided what to eat, I gave a contented sigh. ‘This is beautiful, Roman. Thank you.’
He looked up over the top of his menu, his eyes twinkling in the candlelight, and I didn’t think he’d ever looked more handsome. This new Roman—the happy, relaxed Roman—was a breath of fresh air. Although, bossy, domineering Roman was pretty sexy too!
‘You deserve it,’ he said after a beat. ‘Putting up with my miserable arse, day in and day out.’
‘Well, thank you, anyway.’
I swallowed deeply as his eyes narrowed and his gaze became more intense. Heat swept over my body, and I had a powerful desire to reach across the table and drag him over for a kiss.
‘Okay,’ I gulped, looking back at my menu. ‘What shall we order?’
‘So,’ I said as the waitress put our coffee on the table. ‘How do you know Henry? My friend Emma seems to like him.’
‘I think the feelings are mutual,’ Roman answered before taking a sip of coffee. ‘He hasn’t stopped talking about her.’
‘Really?’
I was thrilled for Emma, especially after what had happened with Tyler.
‘Yep, he’s pretty smitten. Emma too?’
‘Oh yeah, her too,’ I nodded. ‘So have you been friends for long?’
‘About ten years, we met at the gym that I used to belong to.’ Roman’s hand gripped his coffee cup as his gaze drifted out beyond the window. When he looked back at me, his eyes were dark and his mouth a thin line. I had no idea what appeared to have upset him, but I chose to ignore it.
‘And now you own Ziggy’s together?’ I said.
‘We do.’ Roman’s grimace was replaced with a grin. ‘I never saw myself as a nightclub owner, but Henry needed a partner. He had the vision for it, and I had the expertise to turn the building into a nightclub. I’d been living down South for a couple of years, and decided to come back when Henry had the idea about the club. It’s taken us almost three years of red tape, planning, and hard work, but when I look at what we’ve achieved, it was worth every sleepless night we had over the place.’