It was the one he always got right before he kissed her. And they were standing so close that if he wanted to, he would barely have to lean forward...
“On second thought I don’t want to know,” she said, taking a small step back, hoping he wouldn’t notice. But of course he did.
His eyes sparked with mischief. “Are you afraid you might like what I have to say? Or are you just afraid of me in general?”
Pretty much all of the above. She didn’t even want to go there, but as he stepped a little closer, invading her personal space, her feet felt glued to the floor.
“I have no reason to be afraid of you,” she said, cursing the slight wobble in her voice.
“I came here at your father’s request for one reason, and one reason only,” he told her, leaning in just a little, and she braced herself for what she already knew was coming. “Because I thought I might see you.”
Damn, that was what she was afraid of.
His wry grin said he was having too much fun torturing her. And it was torture to be so close to him and not be able to put her hands on him. How had this happened when a few minutes ago she hated him? Well, maybe not hated. That was a very strong word. And for all their troubles, sexual attraction had never been one of them. Not even at the end.
Obviously, not even now.
The first year they’d known each other their relationship had been deeply rooted in the “just friends” category. And he truly had been her best friend. However, that had never doused the fires of a heart-melting crush. But he’d never shown an interest in her physically, so she had been convinced she wasn’t his type. Until one night after a horror-movie marathon, as they were hugging goodbye at his apartment door. She had pushed up on her toes to kiss Roman’s cheek, and he had leaned forwrad in that exact second to kiss hers. She had tilted one way, and he the opposite, and somehow their lips had collided.
And oh. My. God.
The kiss had gone from zero to sixty in an instant. Roman had groaned and tangled his fingers in her hair, pulled her close. Then they couldn’t stop kissing, and before she knew what was happening she was off her feet. He carried her to his bedroom, where they ripped at each other’s clothes, falling into a tangle on the unmade bed. The sex was even better than she had imagined it would be. And boy, had she imagined it a lot. He had more than exceeded her expectations.
They’d made love half the night, and fallen asleep in each other’s arms. She’d been sure the next morning the disappointment would come. He would blame it on the bottle of wine they had shared, and ask her if they could go back to just being friends. And she’d known it would break her heart, and seeing him with another woman would destroy her, but she couldn’t imagine losing his friendship.
But he had told her he loved her instead. That he had always loved her, and wanted her, and she’d nearly wept with relief. After that they’d been inseparable. She’d loved him with all of her heart.
Then he had betrayed her.
Those warm fuzzy memories from their past turned to ice in her veins. Was he here not really to explain, but to turn her against her own father? His weapon this time wasn’t lies and accusations. This time it was truth. And the truth did hurt. A lot.
But why should she trust anything he said to her?
Something in Roman’s expression changed. “Did someone open a window? It just got chilly in here.”
“I see what you’re doing,” she said, backing away from him. “You’re trying to turn me against my father.”
A shadow passed across his face and the temperature dropped another ten degrees. “Is that really what you think?”
She had offended him. Well, tough. “You’ve tried it before.”
“As someone who lost both of his parents at a very young age, I would never intentionally put a wedge between a parent and a child.”
“You told me my father was working with the mob! How did you think I would feel?”
“I said that I suspected he was. And I only told you that to keep you safe. And you didn’t believe me anyway.”
“And I was right. There were no mob ties, were there?”
He shook his head. “No.”
“And I wasn’t laundering money for him, either. Or destroying evidence. Was I?”
That made him wince a little. “No, you weren’t.”
“After all this time I still can’t believe you would accuse me of that,” she said. “I thought you knew me better.”
“I didn’t accuse. I asked.”
“You suspected, and that was just as bad. The idea that you believed I might be capable—” Emotion rushed up to block her airway, making it impossible to finish her sentence. It was taking all her strength to hold back the sob that was working its way up.
She would not cry. He wasn’t worth it.
She thought she’d put all of these feelings to rest, but here she was raw and bleeding again.
She was not going to cry.
“I made a mistake,” he said, “and not a day has gone by since then that I haven’t regretted it.”
He was making it worse, being so reasonable. Admitting he was wrong. And if she didn’t get a grip, she was going to go all girly on him. She was not a crier. The last time she remembered shedding a tear was the day of Sutton’s cancer diagnosis. But here she was fighting back a waterfall.
He needed to go now.
“Your time is up,” she said, not even looking to the clock to see if thirty minutes had passed. Or was it supposed to be twenty? She couldn’t even remember. She just wanted him gone. And she hated herself for letting him get to her. For letting herself care at all. She was stronger than that. And smarter. “You have to leave.”
He didn’t look at his watch as he nodded. Apparently he had said all he came to say. “I’ll let myself out.”
Maybe he could see that she was hanging on by a very thin thread and was kind enough to spare her dignity.
She watched him cross the room to the door, noting a slight catch in his gait, as though he was favoring his left leg. He stopped on the threshold, his broad shoulders nearly filling the frame, and turned back to her. She held her breath, waiting, feeling an overwhelming sense of anticipation.
“Seven years ago, I thought I could keep the nature of my investigation from you. That alone was wrong. And when you did find out I should have trusted you when you said you weren’t involved. But I was young and arrogant and I screwed up. I know I never apologized for what I did, but only because I didn’t think you would ever accept it, or that I even deserved your forgiveness. But I’m saying it now. I’m sorry, Gracie.”
Her heart melted. She wanted to run across the room, throw her arms around his neck and tell him that she forgave him, that she would always forgive him, but she had to keep her head on straight. She was caught up in the moment, in his tender honesty, and knew she would regret letting him off too easy. Besides, she didn’t even know if she did forgive him, or if she believed he had nothing to do with the latest scandal. She didn’t know what to think, so she chose her words carefully.
“I appreciate that,” she said, which got her a wry, slightly crooked grin.
“I get it,” he said. “You’ll accept my apology in your own good time. I understand,