Roman's Heart

by Sharon Sala

  He cupped the side of her face, his voice softening.

  “Look at me, baby.”

  She did, because he asked—because she didn’t have it in her to deny him anything.

  “Did you ever stop to think that when you see your father, your fears might go away?”

  “But they won’t,” she sobbed, and threw her arms around his neck. “I know they won’t.”

  Roman groaned and pulled her close. “You don’t know that for sure.”

  “Oh, Roman, you don’t understand. I keep thinking back to when I first saw you. I was so scared. I wanted to run away, but there was nowhere to go. And you were so angry with me and so distrustful.” When he would have interrupted, she shook her head, refusing to give him the right. “No, don’t argue,” she said softly. “It’s the truth, and rightly so. But something happened to me that I didn’t expect. I fell in love with you, and when we made love, it sealed that fact in my heart. I am afraid to let you out of my sight. I am afraid if I never see you again that I will die from this pain.”

  Roman’s heart had been aching ever since he’d talked to Royal, but when he heard what she said, it felt as if he were coming apart at the seams. It hurt to draw breath. It was killing him to be touching her now and still know she belonged to someone else. In spite of his pain, he had to be strong for her. She didn’t belong to him anymore. Hell, if he would be honest with himself, she’d never really belonged to him, except in his dreams. He grabbed her by the arms, shaking her to get her attention.

  “Damn it, woman, you didn’t die before. You’re not going to die now,” he said roughly.

  “But, Roman, in a way, that’s not true. I did die. I mean Holly died. You gave Daisy life, and she’s all I know.”

  He lifted her fingers to his lips, gently kissing the palm of each hand. Her scrapes were almost healed. They’d been the last visible reminders of her accident. Soon she would be gone, just like the scars from her fall. It took every ounce of strength he had not to rage at the injustice of fate.

  Daisy leaned forward. Her lips grazed the edge of his mouth, then centered on the curve of his lips.

  “Roman, please don’t let me go. Fight for me, damn it. Tomorrow, tell Davis Benton that I matter to you.” Then her voice shattered, like splintering glass. “Or am I fooling myself? Am I the only one who cares this much?”

  Anger darkened the blue in Roman’s eyes to a thunderous shade of gray.

  “Don’t even go there,” he said shortly. “I care.” Then he took a deep breath. He was about to cross a line, but she’d bared her soul. The least he could give her was what was left of his heart. “I care.” His voice softened. “But I made love to Daisy. Holly is marrying another man.”

  Daisy started to cry in earnest. “I’m not! I won’t! And I wish tomorrow would never come.”

  He crawled onto the sofa beside her, then wrapped his arms around her, burying his face in the curve of her neck.

  Daisy dug her fingers into his hair and pulled, forcing him to look her straight in the eyes.

  “Today isn’t over. Today I’m still Daisy. Make love to me, Roman, before it’s too late.”

  Everything inside of him said no, but for once, his heart wouldn’t listen. He inhaled sharply, breathing in the scent of her, then rolled, pinning her beneath him.

  “This is only going to make the goodbye worse.”

  She shook her head. “Nothing is worse than goodbye.”

  There wasn’t enough fight left in him to argue. And God help him, he wanted this, more than she could know.

  Chapter 9

  Roman’s mind was telling him no, but his heart was shouting yes. He lifted Daisy from the couch and started walking toward the stairs that led to the loft. When he paused, she looked up. Before they went any further, he had to ask.

  “No regrets?”

  Blinded by tears, she shook her head. “Don’t ask me that,” she said. “Just take me to bed. At least for tonight, make this nightmare go away.”

  He could no more have refused her than he could have stopped breathing. He went up the steps, holding her close to his heart and wondering if she could hear it breaking. By the time he laid her down on the bed, his vision was blurred from unshed tears. For a moment, neither moved—neither breathed. They were lost in the pain on the other one’s face.

  Daisy reached for the hem of her shirt, and Roman moved.

  “No, baby, let me,” he said softly, and pulled it over her head, leaving her bare to his sight.

  Daisy held up her arms. “Come lie with me, Roman. Make love to me now so that I never forget.”

  Her words tore at him in a way he could no longer ignore. Hit with the unfairness of it all, his pain turned to anger. He tore off his clothes and then moved on top of her, as if staking a claim. His words were clipped and low, his body shaking with unchecked passion. He grabbed her arms and pinned them above her head, branding her mouth with his, tasting the salt of her tears and taking away her breath.

  “Don’t you ever forget!” he said harshly. “You were mine. Even if it wasn’t right. Even if it wasn’t fair to those who knew you first. Even then...don’t you ever forget!”

  Daisy tore free from his grasp and wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him closer, urging him with every ounce of her being to take her.

  “Then give me something to remember you by.”

  Without foreplay, without warning, Roman slid between her legs and thrust, wanting to bury himself within her, wishing he could stay there forever.

  Daisy arched to meet him, giving back as much as she took, and still it wasn’t enough. She kept trying to concentrate on the scent of her man, on the way he held her close and the feel of his breath upon her face. But soon everything turned from thought to feeling as her body began to burn.

  Time had no meaning. Focus shifted to the sound of flesh upon flesh, of quick gasps and harsh grunts, of soft, meaningless cries and deep groans of sweet joy.

  Daisy left the earth first, taking flight on a hard, desperate plunge. Out of control, her body bucked beneath him, taking the last ounces of pleasure from the best of the pain.

  Locked in the ebb of her climax, Roman gave up the fight and let go, spilling deep into the woman beneath him. One spasm after another, he shuddered, then groaned, holding back nothing, giving her all that he was. All that he would ever be. And when it was over, rolled her up in his arms and held her while she cried.

  Roman hadn’t slept a wink. Long after they’d made love for the last time, he lay quietly on the bed in the dark with Daisy still in his arms, watching the contours of her face becoming more and more apparent with each passing hour. The tracks of her tears were still on her face when the day began to dawn.

  There was a phrase that kept going through Roman’s mind. Something about morning coming softly. He wanted to curse. This morning wasn’t coming softly. It was ripping through the darkness, taking away the last vestiges of hope.

  And while dawn was meant to signify new beginnings, for them it was the beginning of the end. Roman had walled himself off from all feelings, concentrating instead on what was to come.

  A helicopter that would invade their solitude.

  A father in search of a daughter.

  A return to a past that Daisy couldn‘t—or wouldn’t—let herself remember.

  He kept trying to work the duffel bag full of money into the facts as he knew them, but no matter how many ways he considered them, nothing made much sense.

  A child of wealth, as Holly Benton obviously was, had no need to steal, yet she was in possession of a king’s ransom. As an investigator, he knew to never overlook the obvious, and that would also include the other passengers who’d been on that plane. Whatever the pilot had or had not known about the situation was now moot. He was dead and buried. That left the Mallory brothers. What was it Royal had said? Real estate? They dealt in real estate? Eloping with a million dollars, give or take a few thousand, wasn’t standard procedure. Had the Mallorys bee
n up to no good? And did Holly know, or was she somehow an innocent party to whatever had gone down? He frowned. Everything was supposition until she remembered.

  Daisy stirred in his arms, and he tightened his hold, unwilling to turn loose of their last moments together. But then she opened her eyes and looked up at him without speaking. In the silence, he felt the pain of her withdrawal. The accusation was still on her face: if you loved me, you wouldn’t let me go.

  He cupped her cheek with the palm of his hand, silently pleading for understanding. It wasn’t up to him to choose. Until she remembered everything from her past, they had no chance at a future.

  She went limp in his arms and buried her face against his chest.

  “Oh, God, Roman. It’s here.”

  It took everything he had not to make love to her again. “What’s here?”

  “The morning.”

  There was such devastation in her voice, and he knew just how she felt. But delaying the inevitable was futile.

  “I know, and I think we should be getting up. It would be better if you were dressed when your father arrives.”

  She groaned and clung even tighter. “It might be better for him, but not necessarily for me.”

  Roman gave her one last, long embrace and then crawled out of bed, giving her the space to do the same. He began pulling on his jeans.

  “I’ll make some breakfast.”

  “I don’t want to eat,” Daisy said. “I will throw up if I try.”

  His expression softened. “Then coffee. You can at least have some coffee.”

  She rolled to the side of the bed, then sat on the edge, staring down at the floor.

  “Remember the night when I crawled out from under this bed?”

  As he reached for his boots, he saw his hands were shaking. He sighed. That night was a lifetime ago. He dropped down on the side of the bed and began pulling them on.

  “Yes, I remember,” he said.

  “I felt certain I was going to die.” A small smile broke the somberness of her face, never quite reaching her eyes. “But I didn’t, did I?”

  He shook his head, letting her ramble, waiting for her to make her point.

  “That’s what you’ve been trying to tell me all along, wasn’t it?” she said.

  “What do you mean?” Roman asked.

  “It’s the uncertainty about all of this that scares me the worst. You, I know. You, I love. I don’t remember loving Davis Benton, but maybe I did, and I know I have to give this meeting a fair chance.”

  “Good girl.”

  “But there’s something I want you to do for me in return.”

  “Name it,” Roman said.

  “Hang on to that money for me. There’s something inside of me that’s afraid to let it be known it’s in my possession. Call it instinct, call it lack of guts, call it anything you choose. But for now, I don’t think anyone should know I have it.”

  He frowned. “I don’t like it. I think you should show your father—”

  “No!” Her vehemence was impossible to ignore. “Don’t you understand? Until I remember everything, I don’t know who to trust. The only person I know and trust is you.” She stood, holding the sheet in front of her like a limp and wrinkled shield. “Will you help me?”

  Against his better judgment, he agreed. “I’ll help you, and you know it. But if I don’t hear from you within a few days, I’ll make my own decisions about the damned stuff.”

  She nodded. “Fair enough.”

  He finished dressing and stalked downstairs, telling himself he was probably getting into something way over his head. But there was no denying that Daisy didn’t know whom to trust. And there was every possibility that someone had committed a crime to get that money. Until they knew for sure where it came from, he would keep her secret safe.

  They stood together on the porch, watching as the helicopter descended from the sky. A good portion of the snowfall had already turned to runoff, leaving the ground beyond the cabin a mixture of mud, slush and snow. Daisy leaned closer against Roman’s shoulder, then reached for his hand. Threading his fingers through hers, he squeezed gently, just to let her know he was there.

  “Holly, they’re here.”

  Startled, she looked up at him. “Why call me that now?”

  It hurt to say it, but a truth was a truth. “Because that’s who you are and who you have to be.”

  “And if I don’t want to?”

  He shook his head.

  A short, stocky man emerged from the chopper. Ducking the downdraft of the blades, he started toward the cabin at a lope.

  Something clicked inside of her. Although she didn’t recognize him, there was a familiarity within her that eased part of the tension she was feeling.

  “Easy, baby,” Roman said softly. “It’s going to be all right.”

  She looked up at Roman and shook her head. “Not from where I’m standing.”

  “I’m right here beside you,” he said.

  “For how long?” she muttered, and looked back at the man coming toward them. “You’re sending me away, remember?”

  Roman groaned beneath his breath. “I’m not sending you anywhere. You’re going home. There’s a difference.”

  Daisy wouldn’t budge. Her chin jutted mutinously. “I’m standing on the only home I know.”

  “Damn it, don’t make this any harder than it already is.”

  Her eyes flashed. “Then don’t let them take me—”

  Davis Benton heard the last part of what she was saying and interrupted before she could finish.

  “Holly-berry, I won’t take you anywhere you don’t want to go.”

  She froze. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she could hear herself laughing at the name. She gasped as her belly drew itself into a knot, then stared long and hard into the stranger’s face.

  “Davis Benton?” she asked.

  This was harder than Davis had expected. Knowing that the very sight of him brought fear to his own daughter’s face was devastating. But he’d fought longer wars than this and won. Holly was worth whatever it took to get her back.

  “Yes, dear, I’m Davis Benton. I’m your father.”

  Up until now, she’d refused to think of herself by that name, but now there was no denying it.

  So, I truly am Holly Benton. She stepped forward and held out her hand.

  Awkwardly, Davis grasped it, wanting to pull her to him, but settling for a brief handshake, instead.

  “And you, sir. You would be Roman Justice?” Davis asked.

  Roman nodded.

  Davis’s smile was wide and open. There was no mistaking his gratitude and joy.

  “You’ve given me back a reason to live. How can I ever thank you?”

  Roman glanced down. Daisy—he amended the thought—Holly was silent, too silent. There was a distant expression on her face, as if she’d removed herself from the both of them to preserve her sanity. He looked back at Davis. There was no mistaking the seriousness of the tone of his voice.

  “By taking good care of your daughter.”

  “That’s a promise,” Davis said, then glanced at what Holly was wearing. The clothes were outdated and a little bit large. He glanced back at Roman.

  “The least you can do is let me reimburse you for the use of your wife’s clothing.”

  Roman’s expression never wavered. “I’m not married, and I told you before, the only reward I want is Holly’s safety.”

  Davis looked from Holly, to the man beside her and then back again. He glanced down. They were holding hands. In itself, that meant nothing. It was simply a gesture of reassurance for a woman who was afraid to let go. And then he looked at the expression on his daughter’s face. Not once in the time she’d been dating Gordon had she looked at him like she was looking at the man beside her. A piece of anger turned loose in his mind. Had this man taken advantage of her when she was most vulnerable?

  Roman could almost hear what was going through Davis Benton’s mind, and
it was the last straw in a day that had barely started.

  “Benton.”

  Roman had Davis’s attention. There was more than warning in his voice.

  “What?” Davis asked.

  “Don’t even go there,” Roman said softly.

  Davis flushed. “I don’t know what you—”

  “You know exactly what I mean,” Roman said. “Get that look off your face. Get that thought out of your mind.”

  Holly had been puzzled as to what was going on, and then suddenly grasped what was not being said. Anger spilled out of her in a rush.

  “Mr. Benton, if you have something to say to me, then say it,” she cried. “But don’t start laying blame at anyone’s feet.” And then she laughed bitterly. “I realize I can’t speak for Holly Benton, but I can certainly speak for Daisy, and she’s a grown woman. She doesn’t need anyone’s permission to do anything she chooses.”

  When she called him “Mr. Benton,” Davis began to worry. This woman looked like his Holly, but she was certainly more forceful than Holly had been.

  “If it will make you more comfortable, I will call you Daisy. And you’re right. No twenty-seven-year-old woman needs her father’s permission to do anything.”

  Holly relaxed, absorbing the tiny bit of news that she was only twenty-seven. It felt as if she’d lived a lifetime after what she’d been through last week.

  “You call me what you choose, but you will not judge me. I won’t accept it.”

  “Fair enough,” Davis said, exhaling slowly. That was close. He gave Roman a closer look. Whatever had gone on between them, his daughter was obviously ready to defend her right to do it.

  “Mr. Justice, are you certain we can’t give you a lift? From the air, it’s quite obvious that the roads are still impassable.”

  Roman shook his head. “No.”

  Davis glanced at his daughter. “Is there anything you want to take with you?”

  She glanced at Roman. Only him. When Roman’s gaze darkened, she looked away and answered. “No, I guess not.”

  “Then we’d better be going,” Davis said. “I chartered a plane to take us back to Las Vegas.” He waved his hand toward the snow and mountains. “The sooner I get back to warm air and sunshine, the happier I’ll be.”