Do Me a Favor: A second chance, hilarious rom com! (Mile High Matched Book 4)

by Christina Hovland

  “Client calls. Client meetings. I need to schedule some photos for my business cards. Then I’ll probably fire Babushka again. When she won’t leave, I’ll buy her lunch.”

  “That’s the problem.”

  “That she won’t leave?”

  “If you feed her, she’s yours.”

  “She’s your grandmother, Rome. She’s not a stray cat.”

  “I think you might be wrong about that,” he said with that sparkle in his eye. “Photos this afternoon? I have a gap around three.”

  “That’d be great.”

  The phone rang in the reception area.

  Sadie hurried back to get it before Babushka could pick it up.

  Babushka held a book in her hands titled All My Friends Are Dead, totally ignoring the ringing telephone.

  “I’ve got it,” Sadie said, lunging toward the desk.

  “Okay.” Babushka didn’t look up from the book. She did, however, nudge the edge of her dead husband’s photo frame so it was more in line with the center of the desk.

  Sadie snatched the receiver.

  “Law Office of Sadie Howard, Sadie Howard speaking.” Sadie channeled her most badass inner attorney.

  “Is Nadzieja Dvornakov available?” asked a deep male voice with an extra helping of Russian accent on the other end of the line.

  Um.

  “Yes? Hold please.” Sadie held the phone to Babushka. “It’s for you.” Because of course, it was.

  “I’m breaking,” Babushka replied, not moving her focus from whatever was on the pages of her death book.

  “I think she means she’s on break,” Roman murmured.

  Sadie rolled her eyes at him. “Got that much.”

  “Maybe you should take the phone,” Roman suggested to his grandmother. “Before Sadie loses her mind.”

  Babushka sighed dramatically and took the phone. “Hello?”

  Sadie pressed her hands against her cheeks. What was happening to her life? Everything had tilted sideways. She rubbed at her temples. Roman came up behind her, gripping her shoulders in a way that righted things and made her feel oh so much better about the world in general.

  “Ven?” Babushka asked. She paused, listening intently to whatever the guy with the deep voice was saying. “Yes.” Then she put the receiver back in the cradle.

  Okay then.

  “Maybe I should stick around awhile?” Roman suggested, his voice soothing.

  “You have clients,” Sadie replied.

  Unlike her.

  “Not for a while.” Roman didn’t lift his hands from her shoulders. Instead, with the precision of a military man, he steered her toward her personal office that was now not only beige, but also pink with brown polka dots. The lightheadedness was starting to take over again.

  They’d nearly made it out of the reception area when the door opened and a second elderly woman fluttered through.

  “Hello,” she called. “I’m late, I know. But I’m here now.”

  “Etta?” Roman asked, confused.

  Sadie was processing all that was going on in her life—and all that wasn’t going on in her life—and in the midst of all that processing, she was beginning to think that maybe some of her circuits had shorted out.

  This woman, Etta, had blue hair. Not the kind that was trendy now, but the kind that implied she’d tried to add color herself and it’d ended badly. Her polyester blouse and slacks matched her hair in a tone-on-tone ensemble that looked like she spent her days with a certain monster who enjoyed cookies.

  The woman gave Roman a wide smile and a carefree wave and then grabbed hold of one of the upholstered wooden chairs in the waiting area. Slowly, oh so very slowly, she pulled it toward the reception desk, dragging the legs against the Berber carpet.

  Roman dropped his grip on Sadie’s shoulders, moving toward Etta and the chair situation. “Can I help with—”

  “You cannot come in late,” Babushka admonished.

  There was that lightheaded feeling in Sadie’s head again.

  “I forgot today was Monday,” Etta said like that was the reason she was here in Sadie’s office moving furniture.

  “You forget this. You forget that. You have one job.” Babushka stood and rolled her chair to the side, making way for Etta’s.

  Like a rubber band snapping back into place, Sadie resolved that this was her office—she did pay the rent after all—and these women were in her space.

  “Who are you?” Sadie asked, attempting to keep her voice calm but unable to manage the trickle of panic at the idea that there were possibly two Babushkas now. What kind of fresh hell had she unleashed on her life if there were now two of them?

  “This is Etta.” Babushka waved toward the blue-haired woman. “She is here to answer your phones.”

  Sadie’s stomach dropped straight to her knees. Nope. Nopers. Nope.

  “No.” Sadie shook her head with a little too much exuberance, given that she was lightheaded not thirty seconds earlier. “Absolutely not. I am calling an agency right now. They are going to send someone who will answer the phone correctly, and greet clients, and get me coffee.”

  “Is there something wrong with your coffee?” Babushka asked, her eyebrows furrowing.

  No. But that was really not the point now, was it?

  The phone rang.

  Everyone stared at it. Even Etta, who was apparently there to answer the damn thing.

  Roman, God bless him, started toward the desk, his intent to answer Sadie’s phone apparent in the way he moved. He nearly made it, too.

  Etta, clearly remembering why she was there, fumbled with the phone before bringing it to her ear.

  “Hello?” Etta said.

  No. No. No. Nopers.

  “Law Office of Sadie Howard, Etta speaking,” Sadie muttered under her breath. She held her hand out. “Give it to me.”

  “One moment,” Etta said into the handset. She squinted at the buttons on the backlit panel near the number buttons. “How do I transfer it?” she asked.

  “Who is it for?” Babushka asked.

  “It’s for you,” Etta said.

  “Oh.” Babushka snatched up the handset.

  “I feel like you might need to Irish up that coffee.” Roman gestured to the paper cup with the siren logo in Sadie’s hand.

  Sadie couldn’t have agreed more.

  “Yes?” Babushka asked into the telephone. She paused.

  Everyone, including Sadie, seemed to wait with bated breath to see what was going to happen next.

  “Okay,” Babushka said. “Goodbye.”

  Well, that was a letdown, wasn’t it?

  She handed the receiver back to Etta who placed it carefully in the cradle.

  “Who was that?” Sadie asked.

  Babushka waved her hand. “It vas for me.”

  Clearly. “Why are you getting calls at my office?”

  “Because I vork here.” Babushka held her book up, licked the tip of her finger, and turned the page.

  And that was pretty much how Sadie guessed her entire day was going to go.

  Chapter Twenty

  “Are you ready for me?” Sadie peeked inside Roman’s studio.

  The muscles in his arms bunched as he moved one of the big lights with an umbrella over the bulb. He’d set up a tall chair in the center of a white background and placed lights at various intervals all over the room. “I’m ready.”

  He was all business as he lowered one light and raised another.

  Then he grabbed Louise and a light meter and went to checking whatever it was photographers checked.

  Sadie sat on the wooden chair beside his desk.

  “That should do it.” He flashed her a grin and waved her over. “I usually do a few full-face poses and then shoot from the chest up for business photos.”

  “You’re the professional. I trust you.” She sat on the chair he’d positioned and held still while he adjusted the collar of her blue blazer.

  His hand paused a few
seconds too long when it adjusted the fabric at the edge of her neck. She was fairly certain the gentle whisper of his fingertips along the column of her throat was not his usual modus operandi.

  Her heart beat a little faster as his fingers strayed and his face remained inches from her own. Not inappropriately so, the touch or the proximity, but enough to remind her of the things they’d done over the weekend.

  The kisses.

  The touches.

  The intimacy of their bodies reconnecting.

  “Stay right there. Don’t move,” he said.

  She had no intention of moving.

  He did a few quick photos with Louise, the lights all flashing brighter while the shutter sounded. He stopped to click through a laptop set up nearby.

  “Lighting’s perfect.” Standing on a metal stool, he took a few from above.

  “Look down,” he directed.

  She did as she was told.

  “Now look up, but don’t move your face or chin, just your eyes.”

  She followed his directions.

  “Perfect.” He paused briefly to check the computer again before resetting one of the white circle reflectors on her right.

  “Give me a smile like you’re about to rake my ex over the coals.” He held Louise to his eye, totally in his element. He crouched every so often, his jeans stretching over his muscled thighs. Then he’d turn a tad so the muscles in his arms bunched his white T-shirt.

  Sadie did her best to follow his directions as he called them out, but there were only so many ways a girl could smile.

  “Give me one like I’m your boyfriend and I’m taking your picture.” He leaned to the side of Louise so she got the full force of his smile.

  “Frown for a moment,” he directed.

  She did.

  “Now smile.”

  Sadie had no idea how that one was any different, but Roman continued his clicking.

  “Hold up, your hair moved.”

  He strode to her and smoothed the hair over her left ear.

  She couldn’t help it—didn’t even know what she was doing—as she turned her head so his hand cradled her jaw. He stroked the skin below her earlobe with his thumb.

  Looking up at him from under her lashes, she noticed his gaze had turned hot.

  He took two more photos just like that.

  “I think I got it,” he said, his voice throaty before he let Louise fall against his chest and he went in for a kiss.

  “The hair or the picture?” Sadie asked just as his mouth was nearly pressed to hers.

  He deleted the millimeters separating them, kissing her lipstick right off. “Both,” he said, pulling away and setting Louise on his desk.

  “I’m sorry.” Sadie wiped at the residual lipstick she knew would be all over her mouth. “For distracting you.”

  Roman ran his hands over his own hair. “When’s your next appointment?”

  “Not for another hour, why?”

  “You’re my last client for the afternoon.” He walked with purpose to the door and pressed the lock.

  Was he thinking they might…?

  He pulled off his tee, leaving his chest totally bare.

  Apparently, he was.

  Which was fine, because Sadie was all on board with this turn of events.

  Roman undid his fly as Sadie’s expression went from excited to something else. Something he’d never seen in her before. Something bright, something tender, something—

  She removed her blazer, folded it, and laid it on his desk.

  That was the last he saw of her eyes, but it didn’t really matter because she moved fast and her tongue was in his mouth in a way that made him forget everything, including who he was, where he was, and why he was there.

  He lifted her so his erection pressed against her core. With her legs wrapped around his torso, he held her so she wouldn’t fall—his hands under her ass—and walked toward the white chaise lounge he’d shoved to the side earlier that day.

  “You’re not expecting anyone?” she asked against his mouth.

  “Just you.”

  Sadie was already working his belt buckle.

  “Totally sure?” She pulled the belt from his pants so quickly it made a ziiiiip sound.

  “What’s the rush?” he asked, sliding his hands down her back to her waistband and pulling her blouse free.

  “I have clients coming. We have to be fast.” She continued working his pants and boxers down to his thighs, his thickness throbbing as it was released from the confines of the cloth.

  This was the best photo shoot he’d ever had.

  She practically purred against him, her breasts to his chest.

  Well, when she put it like that. He could go fast for her now and deliver slow later, when they weren’t in a professional setting.

  “Any special requests?” If they were going for quick, he wasn’t going to mess with totally undressing her.

  She pulled off her underwear, kicking them to the side with her heels—which, he’d like to note, she had not removed—and she practically tackled him, urgently pressing her mouth against his, only breaking apart long enough to say, “However you want it.”

  Truth was, he’d never had studio sex before. Did she want to do it on the top of the desk or bent over the chaise lounge?

  He could lift her ass to the desk and go in from the front, but no, that wouldn’t work. Being a tall guy was not helpful in that department. He’d need a countertop to manage that position.

  Making a mental note to try that with her later when they were at her apartment, he trailed his hands along the edge of her skirt, lifting it so it draped high across her thighs.

  Sadie giggled.

  Against his mouth.

  He pushed back just a bit to catch the smile on her lips and the laughter bubbling in her throat. She pressed the back of her hand against her mouth.

  And her eyes sparkled. Like he’d handed her an entire bag of Reese’s Pieces with popcorn and a blockbuster movie with excellent cinematography.

  He kind of hoped she’d go for bent over. And soon.

  “Pick your position,” Roman said, the words rough against her collarbone.

  “Gentleman’s choice,” she replied, clearly trying for serious and failing miserably.

  “I’m thinking let’s roll with however it goes,” he said, a plan already forming in his mind. The kind of plan that made his already hard erection turn to steel.

  But she was already taking the lead on this little party, going down between them with her hand on his erection, priming him for what came next. Sadie used her thumb to rub the tip of him, and if she kept that up, there was a very distinct possibility he’d be going down on her instead of going in her because he’d come on the spot.

  She must’ve caught his vibe, because she turned toward the lounge and splayed her hands over the smooth surface of the backrest, totally draped over his prop furniture.

  Stepping behind her, his front to her back, he moved his hand down her stomach, over the skirt bunched at her waist, and to her sweet spot. A moan fell from her parted lips. He slid one finger inside, testing her, seeing where she was.

  Given the way her sex clenched around his finger and the damp heat of her wrapped around him, she was as ready for him as he was for her.

  She moved against his hand, rocking as he pulled his finger out and pushed back in with two.

  He ran his other hand over her breasts, unbuttoning her top and sticking his hand inside. Removing his other hand from her wet center, he guided himself to her core and took a mental picture of the moment so he’d never forget.

  He entered her and Sadie whimpered. Hell, if he were being honest, he did, too.

  She gripped the edge of the lounge as he moved inside her, his thighs pressed against her. He didn’t remove himself to slam back inside. As much as she wanted to go fast, this wasn’t quick sex.

  With Sadie, it never would be.

  No, he stayed seated inside the woman he knew in hi
s soul he wanted forever.

  He just had to give her time to come to the same conclusion.

  “Don’t stop, Rome,” she said, breathless.

  He moved his hips, his hand tracing along her shoulder blade to the collar of her blouse.

  Still seated inside her, he leaned in, his lips to her ear.

  “I fucked up,” he said, pressing harder into her core, grinding inside.

  Sadie gasped, her body moving against his. His hand at her collar once again traced the column of her throat.

  “I fucked up,” he said again, withdrawing just enough so he could press back inside.

  “Mmmm,” she said, her body strung taught.

  With his palm resting against the column of her throat, he said, “I waited for you, Sadie.”

  She mewed but pressed back against him—the heat of her core surrounding him, her ass pressed to his thighs.

  “Didn’t know that’s what I was doing. But I waited.” He pulled back and rearranged himself so that the head of his shaft was barely outside her opening—touching but not entering.

  God, she felt good.

  She leaned back, her body clearly searching for him.

  “I waited for you,” he continued, “because you’re worth it.” He pressed his erection against her opening, not entering, just allowing them to be in the moment.

  Sadie shifted, moved, searched for the whole of him.

  “I need you,” she said on a whimper when her opening found his erection.

  Emotion clogged his throat as he remained poised at her entrance.

  “Rome, please.” She pressed toward him.

  “You’re everything,” he whispered as he drove back home, and fuck, that felt amazing. Seated inside Sadie, he held her around the waist.

  She began to squirm on his dick.

  He let his hand trail up under her shirt to her bra.

  He pulled nearly out, then pressed inside again.

  Sadie groaned.

  He repeated the move and pulled at the edge of her bra cup so he could dip his hand inside. Massaging her breast, he traced her nipple as he thrust.

  Sadie groaned, moving along with him.

  The scent of her perfume hung in the air of his studio. Her thighs began to quiver in that way they did right before she came. She was close and, damn, so was he.