EVERNIGHT PUBLISHING ®
www.evernightpublishing.com
Copyright© 2019 Amabel Daniels
ISBN: 978-1-77339-890-7
Cover Artist: Jay Aheer
Editor: Karyn White
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.
This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, and places are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
VALENTINE’S DATE
Romance on the Go ®
Amabel Daniels
Copyright © 2019
Chapter One
“Sandman” blasted from the radio, and Roman Malcolm couldn’t help but scrunch up his face and head-bang. Just a little, though, because full-out rocking from the driver’s seat of a private company car wouldn’t do. Maybe a little air guitar.
“Yeah, baby. You rock that shit!” a woman catcalled as she passed by on the sidewalk.
Dammit. He turned the music down and pressed the button to roll up the window at the same time. She was just a stranger, one of three ladies now giggling and glancing back at him as they strode on by. One peered at him over the top of her sunglasses, a suggestive smirk curving her lips.
They could look all they wanted, but now that the window was up, he was obscured from the world. Tinted windows locked him in, and he sighed. Like he could afford to get in trouble on the clock.
Being a chauffeur was damned boring, most of the time. The few times he didn’t loathe his position were when he picked up Zoe Crispin. Which was becoming more often than not. Lucky him.
Just imagining her in the backseat had him shifting to sit upright, running his hand down his jacket to smooth out wrinkles. He peered at his reflection in the visor mirror. His black hair might be getting too long, but it wasn’t untamed. Well, okay. He’d brushed it. It’d pass. Jameson Chauffeuring didn’t hire bums, after all. On a last-second thought, he opened his mouth and checked if he had anything stuck between his teeth.
“What the hell for?” he groused to the faded music in the cab. Like she’d get close enough to even see him. A partition separated him from whichever rich elitist he was assigned to drive around NYC. Even though there was always that distance between them, he reveled in her company and their connection.
Dings sounded from his phone, halting him from checking his appearance any more. For his job, not her. He grabbed his cell phone from the console and frowned at his coworker’s messages.
Stefan: I’m blowing chunks over here.
Stefan: You gotta take over my drives for the night. Too sick, man.
Hmm. Roman never balked at helping out, and as a matter of fact, he owed Stefan one for covering a couple of last-minute assignments over the years. But he couldn’t drive two cars at the same time. A quick check of his schedule on the company’s app showed he should be able to wing it. All he had left on his schedule for the day was delivering Zoe to her apartment. Then nothing. Seemed she was staying in for the night.
Me: No prob. When, where, who?
Stefan: 8. Mr. Big Time wants pick up at the hotel for a Vday dinner.
Rolling his eyes, Roman swallowed a groan. Mr. Big Time. Zoe’s fiancé, Aiden Longton, hotelier and real estate Midas of NYC of late.
On the one hand, he shouldn’t begrudge his old buddy. Aiden, or his reference, was the only reason Roman had this job. And after Aiden picked up Zoe and dubbed her his girlfriend, and later his bride-to-be, it ensured Roman would not only meet the woman but spend much time with her. When she was in the backseat.
As a client. She. Is. A. Client.
On the other hand, though, his annoyance with Aiden was a knee-jerk reaction. The charming and easygoing guy he’d befriended in college was turning out to be nothing more than a prick. If Roman hadn’t had scholarships for a free ride at the Ivy League school they attended, he never would’ve met Aiden. Not like they’d ever run in the same circles otherwise. Actually, it was hard for Roman to judge. He seldom saw Aiden anymore, a pleasant side effect from Stefan being Aiden’s main driver, and Roman taking over Zoe’s transportation.
Me: Got it. Feel better.
Stefan: Thanks
Funny that he hadn’t had an assignment scheduled for the gorgeous brunette for Valentine’s. Then again, if Aiden scheduled with his driver, then Zoe and Aiden would be together.
Speaking of … where was she? She was usually done with work by six-thirty.
As though he’d summoned her to appear, he witnessed her struggling toward the car. If that was her. Long legs stumbled in heels, arms were clasped around a stack of so many books she couldn’t see where she was walking, and wavy brown hair whipped this way and that in the city’s harsh winds. Yep. He’d spot that beauty no matter what hid her face.
“Why didn’t you text me for help?” he called out as he jumped out of the car.
“Oh, it’s nothing.” As if dared by her confidence, the top two hardbacks slid off the pile.
He caught them, and she peered up at him.
Cold, wintry gusts couldn’t have frozen him any more than the clear blue gaze that heightened her smile. Zoe wasn’t one to fake a grin or politely nod. Her enthusiasm and happiness were natural, the brightest light in all his days. Her attention was just so raw. Sucking in a breath to recover from the focus of her cheeky smile, he shook his head.
Will I ever be able to look at her and not feel so … stuck?
“Ever hear of a bag?” he asked and waved the fallen books at her. “A tote? Suitcase?”
“Bags are for wimps,” she said and continued past him. “It’s not like book geeks get a lot of exercise. I gotta slip it in where I can.”
Slip it in…
No. He would not fall for her double entendres. Was she even aware of how thrillingly filthy she could talk? He doubted it. She was too sweet and modest to throw dirty hints. It was just him. Over-excited at the sight of her and morose at the impossibility of ever having her.
She. Is. A. Client. No matter how many times he could chant his mantra, the hands-off memo never seemed to stick.
She straightened from leaning low to dump the books in the backseat. Proud that he had refrained from checking out her ass as she bent over in too damn sexy of a gray miniskirt, he concentrated on her winking once she’d faced him again. “See?” She raised an arm and flexed her biceps. “It’s working. I feel the burn.”
“You don’t need to exercise, Zee.” You’re fine exactly the way you are. All curves and softness in just the right places. Not too skinny nor too heavy. Perfection that would fit like heaven against him.
She waved him a hand in dismissal and snorted. “Like I’d ever volunteer to get hot and sweaty.”
Shoot me now, Jesus. Before that image settles in. Again.
“I’ll leave all that muscle building nonsense for the pros like you.”
He tipped the corner of his lips up in a smirk, rather than bask in the warmth of her compliment. “I told you. I quit all that a couple years ago.” He’d rather not be reminded of when he thought he could take on a second job of training wannabe athletes at a gym. Wasn’t worth the stress. Too much … meathead mentality to suffer. He had two jobs again now, actually, but he’d made sure not to mention it to her.
Yet.
“Doesn’t look like it’s been two years since you’ve worked out.” When she shivered, despite her wearing a designer coat, gloves, and a scarf, he realized they weren’t just two people chatting at leisure on the frigid sidewalk. She
was a client, and he had no business keeping her from the heat inside the car.
Never mind his awkward escape of not replying to her comment. Best not to rise to the challenge, because … she’d never be anything more than a client. “Get in, get in. You’ll freeze out here dressed like that.”
He inhaled a shot of icy air to calm the way she so easily heated him up. With her safe inside, he ducked down to lower himself into the driver’s seat.
“What’s wrong with what I’ve got on?” she meekly asked from the back. Dammit. He wished for the impossible—that he could take his words back. He wasn’t criticizing her unique sense of fashion like he’d often overheard Aiden do. The last thing he’d want her to assume was that she fell below par. She couldn’t. Not according to him.
“Nothing at all.” She wore very form-fitting, catchy garments he’d love to rip off her if circumstances could be different. “Just cold out there. You should be more bundled up is all.”
She shrugged and eyed the books next to her.
“Anything good back there?” he asked.
“Maybe.” She picked up a book and skimmed the back cover. “Wanna check them out when you drop me off?”
“Not tonight. No time.” He checked his watch as he pulled into traffic. “Yeah, there won’t be time.”
His attraction to Zoe wasn’t strictly based on the physical. When one bookworm met a fellow bibliophile, how could they not become fast friends? Of all the clients he’d ever driven in the last six years, she was the most engaging and friendliest. With her position as head of PR at the public library, she was surrounded by books. Once he’d admitted the genres of fiction he preferred, they’d embarked on a companionship built of discussing great stories—and the bad ones, too.
Nearly every time he drove her home from work, they’d chat about new reads. Or, like today, she’d offer him a selection of applications that wanted to be included in the library’s main collection.
“What, you’re still trudging through that weird sci-fi about the aliens on the Communist planet?” She chuckled. “I lent you that copy weeks ago.”
He laughed with her. “No. I couldn’t make it past the first chapter.”
“You got plans with another book?” she asked.
He shook his head. Nope again. On the most romantic night of the year, he had plans with himself. Maybe his hand and visions of her when he showered.
God. He had to stop this fascination with her. It bordered on obsession.
“With a … woman?” she asked.
Risking a quick glance in the mirror, he caught her watching him. Her cheeks had been plenty rosy from the sting of the cold, but she had to be warmer by now. He checked that the heat was on in the back. “No.” Another clue he needed to let this connection with Zoe fade. He couldn’t even remember his last date. Last year? Sometime in the spring?
“Sorry. That’s not—that’s none of my business.”
“Nothing to be sorry about,” he told her. “I just meant that you won’t have time. Aiden requested a ride for a Valentine’s dinner at eight.”
“Oh.” The surprise in her tone had him peeking at her again. “I didn’t know. He’d hinted that he wanted me to dress up for him, but I thought he meant for if—when he came … home…”
“Maybe he wanted to surprise you?”
Instead of a smile or the chipper reply one might expect, she let out a sound like a sigh and shrugged her shoulders. “I guess.”
It wasn’t the first time he’d picked up on clues of trouble in paradise. Not the usual ones, like Aiden nitpicking her about her appearance and choice of clothes and jewelry. Or the lack of conversation they shared when riding together. Something more serious that had Zoe frowning more often than appearing relaxed.
He needed to borrow her line.
Not my business.
His only purpose was to drive them from one destination to the next. Befriending Zoe wasn’t a crime, and Aiden never seemed to care that they chatted like best buddies from forever. Lusting for her was a problem he needed to, and resigned to, keep to himself. Getting nosy about her relationship with the company’s biggest client didn’t belong on his agenda. Her and Aiden’s being together wasn’t anything secretive, but allowing himself to dwell on it wasn’t wise.
“Well, I wonder what he’s got in mind,” he said.
“You don’t know?” She scooted forward to lean her crossed forearms on the top of the partition.
He shook his head and refused to breathe in deeply. Lavender. “Uh, no. We’re picking him up at his office uptown and then heading out.”
“Oh.”
There it was again. That deflated indifference.
“Should I wear pink, or red, you think?”
He licked his lips, wishing he could at least pragmatically tell her he was head over heels in … something with her, that it was pure torture to ask such opinions of him. So innocently. Like she trusted and relied on him.
“What’s Aiden’s preference?”
She scoffed. “Expensive.”
Not helping. “Well … uh…” He cleared his throat. “I’d go with … whatever feels comfortable?”
“Comfy?” She laughed and leaned her cheek on her arms, tilting those waves of chocolate tresses toward his shoulder. “Oh, Roman. You want to know what comfy would be? Lounging in my PJs, sipping a glass of wine, and checking out one of these titles back here.”
His lips rose in a smile he had no chance of hiding. Sounded like his idea of a good night, too. And he could envision her enjoying such a relaxation right at his side.
Client…
“Then you’ll have something to look forward to. For another night.” He’d arrived at the tower where she and Aiden shared a penthouse apartment. Pulling into the lane, he wished, as he always did, that they had more than the few minutes to talk. Hang out. Get to know each other even more.
“You’re going to wait out here?” she asked, retreating from leaning close to his seat. “I’ve only got forty-five minutes. Well, maybe fifty. We’d need a good twenty minutes to get to the hotel. And you know how he is about being on time, so that means we need to allow for a ten-minute buffer for emergency delays. Maybe—”
He twisted around and reached over to set his hand on her wrist, the closest part of her he could touch. “Zee.”
She reverted to a shy smile at his nickname for her.
“It’ll be fine. And yes, I planned to wait here. No point driving off to just come right back for you. Go ahead and get all fancy.”
For your fancy man. At least he’d schooled himself to refrain from scowling as he thought it.
“I’ll be waiting for you.” The smile he gave her might have felt a little strained. If only he could tell her that without the taint of the client-driver association holding him back. And the fact she was engaged. Yeah, can’t forget about that one.
He exited to turn around and open her door for her. “Go on and get ready, okay?”
She nodded but wouldn’t meet his gaze. “Right. Thanks, Roman.”
Chapter Two
“I’ll be waiting for you.”
He hadn’t meant to say it in such a low murmur.
Right?
Could he have meant something else? Something … more?
Zoe stared at her reflection in the mirror as she zipped up her dress. A tight vise constricted her chest. No, the fabric wasn’t too tight. Her heart felt like it might burst. Giddy anticipation overwhelmed her, and she smiled at the glass.
Everything Roman said to her sounded sexy, whether he intended it to or not. She doubted he was hitting on her. He was too professional to cross that boundary and too decent to prey on an engaged woman.
Besides, she rationalized as she stood straight and checked the fit of her dress, a man like Roman could have something way … hotter than her.
“I’ll be waiting for you.”
Sure, he’d said it in the capacity of being her driver. Someone who worked for her. He was wai
ting for her in the car parked at the lobby’s entrance. That was what he was paid to do. But had Aiden ever elicited such an indescribable excitement, even in the first thrilling months of dating and falling in love with each other?
A frown commandeered the glee she felt at replaying the memory of Roman’s soft and heated gaze.
Have I been in love with him?
With Aiden. Not Roman.
Of course not Roman. Conflicted as the driver made her feel, she wasn’t so flaky and loose to betray what the ring on her finger signified. She was Aiden’s…
I’m Aiden’s what? His trophy to leave at home? His object to label and never touch? His tossed-aside annoyance that he’ll never call back and shower with excuses?
She inhaled a scalding breath. For starters, whether she was eager about the concept anymore or not, she was Aiden’s fiancée.
Besides, a guy like Roman would never be interested in someone like her, anyway. A woman too soft and not toned. A woman who preferred staying in over partying it up.
I shouldn’t even be thinking about this. Being engaged had to include wondering about one’s future. Though she was pretty sure it shouldn’t involve reminding herself a guy like Roman was out of her league.
There was no denying the sexy man, whether he was beyond her reach or not, inadvertently brought up a good point. A point that had been for so long niggling at her conscience and nagging at her sanity.
When was the last time her fiancé told her he awaited her return? Or even seemed to want to be near her?
When was the last time Aiden ever looked at her without rolling his eyes? Or sparked an instant heat with his gaze?
When was the last time he’d chatted with her about something other than meeting expectations and business obligations? Or opened his mouth to compliment her instead of criticize?
She lost focus on the vividly colored number she’d chosen to wear as her gaze drifted to the bed behind her.
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