by Alexis James
I can feel my face heating with embarrassment, and I briefly consider what my staff must think. “Oh … well, I appreciate that but it wasn’t necessary.”
Roman shrugs and moves toward the door. “No worries. Glad to do it. See ya.”
He’s gone before I can fully comprehend what just happened, and I’m left staring at the doorway thinking I must have dreamed the entire thing. When my assistant Cynthia comes strolling in, a huge smile across her pretty face as she shoves the door closed, I realize we’re not fooling anyone.
“Oh my gosh, Roman Moran is so handsome!” She plops down into the chair he vacated and rolls her eyes. “He was here on Friday too. Brought you coffee.” She glances at the cup that’s still perched in the middle of my desk. “I think he likes you, Sabrina.”
Schooling my expression, I give my head a firm shake. “We work together, Cynthia. Now, was there something you needed?”
I’ve never been particularly close with any of the people who work for me, but Cynthia is one of the few who completely disregards my attempts to keep things business only. Ten years younger than me, she constantly asks me for advice or bounces ideas off of me that are probably best suited for hours out of the office. Last week she needed guidance with the new man in her life; the week before it was whether or not to buy the car she’s been eyeing. Her vivaciousness and energy is contagious, and most days she can get me laughing without trying too hard. But bringing up Roman is a whole different thing completely. One little remark from me and before I know it the rumors will make their way to the thirtieth floor and into Cruz’s office. Knowing how ruthless he can be about business, I believe wholeheartedly that he wouldn’t hesitate to fire me on the spot.
Cynthia looks like I just kicked her cat, disappointment filling her eyes as she mutters, “No, there wasn’t.”
“Then please get back to work.”
She nods. “Okay.” She’s standing at the door before she turns to speak to me again. “I’m sorry, Sabrina. You know … if I got too personal with you.”
Her tone reminds me that I’ve worked very hard to keep myself distanced from my staff, maybe too distanced actually. Mostly likely they see me as the ice queen holed up in her office, barking out orders. What they don’t know is that I’ve never really had friends before, except Jack, and I have no idea about the etiquette involved between a boss and her employees.
“That’s all right.”
Finally alone, I sigh heavily and lean my head against the chair. Closing my eyes, I consider that I might need to tell Roman to keep his distance. He sure didn’t seem to get the picture from our conversation the other day and after running into him last night, I’m beginning to think I’m more of a challenge to him now more than ever. He has no idea what this job means to me, means for me. He has no idea that upsetting this apple cart could completely derail any plans I might have had for my future, for Emmy’s future. To him I’m just a pretty, untouchable blonde holding him at arm’s length. What he doesn’t know is that I couldn’t take a chance on him even if I wanted to. The cost of doing so could potentially be life-altering to me in more ways than one.
Grabbing the still-warm cup of coffee, I toss it in the trash and it lands with a loud thud at the bottom—sort of like my heart does whenever he’s speaking to me. While speculating his motives, I gnaw on my bottom lip. I really dislike the fact that I instantly assume he’s up to no good. I know it’s not fair to judge him based on whatever rumors I’ve heard and even though I have little experience with men, I feel I would know if he was playing me. Is that what he’s doing? Charming me into his bed or trying to? I wish I could ask him why he’s even bothering. He could have his pick of any available, childless, younger women in this city, but he’s wasting time on me. It’s baffling to say the least.
Starting right this moment there will be no more inappropriate conversations or glances or remarks. Starting right now I am nothing more than the woman who runs the HR department and he’s nothing more than one of the executives.
Patience is damn exhausting. So is biting my tongue and walking away when once again I’ve gotten nowhere. Nothing is more frustrating than having to stand back and watch the woman you’re in love with treat you like any other person she works with. A month into my commitment of taking things slow and earning her trust, I’m no closer to the end game than I was that night I met her daughter. She still won’t really look at me, will barely talk to me unless it’s work related, and according to Cynthia, who I somehow managed to charm without trying, she’s tossed each and every cup of coffee I’ve brought for her.
I’m beginning to think I should just throw in the towel and move on, but every time I tell myself that, she and I run into one another in the parking garage or in the hallway, and I’m right back to being ensnared in her web. For a man who has spent the greater part of his adult life easily sweet-talking women into his bed, this epic failure is doing a whole lot to remind me that I’m sure as hell nothing special—at least as far as she’s concerned.
She’s been here every Saturday, as have I, but I’ve kept away and stayed locked inside my office more for my sake than for hers. I’m strung tight, a messy ball of unrequited lust—if there is such a thing—and a slightly bruised heart from the easy way she continues to ignore me. Since I’m not about to give up, until I’m convinced without a doubt that we don’t have at least a small chance of working, I stroll up the stairs with my mind set firmly in place. I am asking her out no matter what.
I come bearing gifts; this time it’s lunch rather than the coffee she so easily manages to discard. When I step up to her office and see her daughter sprawled out on the office floor with text books all around her, I hesitate to make an appearance. The last thing I want is to make life more difficult for her. I’m sure she has her hands full trying to raise a teenage daughter all by herself.
“Hi, Roman.” Emerson smiles up at me, catching me before I can disappear.
“Hey, kiddo. What are you doing here?”
“I decided to hang with my mom while she works. Plus I needed to print out a report and we don’t have a printer.” Her eyes widen as if maybe she shouldn’t have admitted that her mom is using company property for personal use. I offer a reassuring grin just as I hear footsteps coming down the hall.
Sabrina steps up behind me, murmuring, “Hello, Mr. Moran.”
The sound of my own last name is starting to grate on my nerves. “Ms. Morris. How are you today?”
She settles behind her desk and as has been the case the past month, completely avoids looking at me. “I’m well, thank you. Busy. Was there something you needed?”
Sabrina asks me that same question each and every time I show my face in her office. One of these times I’m gonna give her the answer I know she doesn’t want to hear. I’m going to tell her that what I need is for her to lose this business shit and just give me a chance. What I need is for her to be in my arms and for my mouth to be on hers and for all the rest of the world to just disappear. What I need is a good, solid few days to prove to her that I’m worth having in her life as more than a stupid coworker.
Instead of unloading all that, I hold up the bag in my hand. “I brought lunch.” Technically, I brought lunch for her and myself but given that a certain young girl is watching us so carefully, I figure they can eat what I brought and I’ll get something later.
Emmy flies to her feet and grabs the bag out of my hand. “Awesome! Thank you, Roman, I’m famished.”
“Emerson,” her mother scolds.
While her daughter rifles around in the bag and piles sandwiches and chips onto her mom’s desk, I state, “It’s really okay, Sabrina.”
Slowly, hesitant blue eyes lock with mine. “That was very kind of you. Will you join us?”
I know she’s simply being polite, but I’m not about to look a gift horse in the mouth. “Sure, that would be great.”
Once all three of us are seated and chomping away on the huge subs I brought—Sabrina an
d I sharing one, while her daughter makes quick work of one of her own—Emmy fills the silence with excited chatter. “Hey, Roman, did you take history in school?”
Biting back a chuckle, I glance at her mother and reply, “Uh, yeah, kiddo. I sure did. Why?”
Emmy rolls her eyes and stuffs a chip into her mouth, speaking once she’s swallowed. “I have to write this dumb report on the Civil War. I swear, I think we’ve been studying the Civil War since I was in elementary school.”
Wiping my mouth with a napkin, I glance at the papers spread out all over the floor. “You need some help with it?”
She bounces in her chair and completely ignores her mother when she tries to interject. “Yes! That would be so great. Thank you.” Leaning toward me, she feigns a whisper. “Mom isn’t so good at history.”
Chuckling, I glance across the span of desk at Sabrina, happy to see that she’s at least looking at me. “Well, kiddo, I’m sure your mom is good at a lot of things.”
“Yeah, she is.” Wide blue eyes dart between me and her mom. “Um, could you help me now, ’cuz it’s due on Monday.”
“You bet. Finish eating and we’ll get started.”
“Roman, you don’t have to do that,” Sabrina protests, and its only after she speaks that I think she must realize she’s called me by my first name instead of the formal title I’ve been accustomed to the past month.
“It’s no problem. I was done for the day anyway.”
After our trash is tossed, Emmy gathers up her books, and she and I spread all of it out in the conference room down the hall. She keeps up a running commentary while she pulls up documents on her antique laptop and shows me what she has so far. I have to marvel at how relaxed and free she is around me, especially when her own mother is wound so tightly, wary and fearful.
The report doesn’t take us long because she mostly just needed me to fine tune what she had. Then she pulls out her math book and we get to work on the algebra problems that she’s been struggling with. She’s a smart kid with a quick mind and it doesn’t take her long to grasp what she’s been missing. I admire the job Sabrina has done raising her. Emmy is kind and polite, witty and easy to talk to and even though she’s young, she has a wise sense about the world.
She scribbles on the paper then shoots me a curious look. “Do you like my mom?”
The question comes out of nowhere, though I’m not the least bit shocked. After spending the past few hours with this young woman, I’ve learned that she doesn’t have a shy bone in her body—or a filter, apparently. “How would you feel if I said yes?”
She shrugs. “I think it would be cool. As long as you were good to her and didn’t hurt her.”
“Believe me, Em, the last thing I want is to ever hurt your mom.”
Inquisitive blue eyes meet mine. “How old are you?”
Smirking, I reply, “How old do you think I am?”
She gives me a thorough once-over. “Um, early twenties, I guess.”
“Nice try, kiddo. I’m twenty-nine.”
Her eyes dart away and she scribbles on her paper again. “My mom is thirty-five.”
Age has never been an issue for me, but I have a hunch it might be for both of these women. “Is she now? Do you think she’d appreciate you telling me that?”
With a smirk and a chuckle, she remarks, “No, probably not.”
The math equations are completed a few minutes later, and then she pulls out her English homework. I’m boggled; I don’t ever remember having this amount of homework in high school. Of course I spent a lot of time playing sports and chasing girls so chances are if I did have homework, I either faked it or didn’t turn it in.
I’m just giving her a quiz on her vocabulary words when Sabrina strolls into the room and sets cans of soda down in front of each of us. “How’s it going in here? Report almost done?”
Emmy pops the top of her can and rolls her eyes at her mom. “Geez, Mom, we finished that a long time ago. Roman has helped me with my math homework and all the English homework too.”
Sabrina looks sheepishly at me. “I’m sorry, Roman. I never meant for you to get sucked into all that.”
Standing and stretching out the kinks, I refrain from smiling when I watch her eyes drift over my torso, down to where the T-shirt rises and gives her a glimpse of my abs. One hint of skin and she’s wetting her lower lip with her tongue and her face is flushed with desire. And if her daughter wasn’t in the room, I’d bend her over this table and acquaint my body with hers. But she is in the room, and currently she’s throwing the two of us some very curious looks—especially her mother, who seems slightly transfixed simply because I stretched.
“It’s really no problem. Emmy and I had fun, didn’t we?”
“Sure.” She glances at her still-stunned mother. “Hey, Mom, we should have Roman over for dinner to thank him for helping me.”
That one statement pulls her out from wherever she’s been and suddenly she’s flustered and stammering and I’m trying real, real hard not to laugh. “Uh … what … um … no … I mean … he has things to do … so yeah … no.”
“Sure, dinner would be great.”
Sabrina’s eyes widen in shock. “Huh?”
“Dinner. To thank me for helping Emerson with all her homework. Is tonight good for you ladies?”
Her mouth drops open and her eyes dart back and forth from me to her daughter. “Um … what?”
Predictably Emmy rolls her eyes. “Geez, Mom, snap out of it. Roman is coming to dinner tonight.” She tears off a piece of paper and scribbles an address and phone number on it before handing it to me. “Here you go. Seven work for you?”
Grinning, I reply, “Seven is great. What can I bring?”
She shrugs and defers to her mother. “What should he bring, Mom?”
“Uh … nothing. Bring nothing.”
God, she’s beautiful when she’s flustered. “Okay, ladies. Sounds good. I will see you both tonight.”
“See ya, Roman. Thanks again for all the help.”
“Anytime, kiddo.”
Sauntering down the hall, I start to grin as I hear Sabrina dressing down her daughter for the dinner invitation. Doesn’t matter to me because in my hand I not only have her phone number but her address too. I suppose a month of being patient was worth it after all.
My afternoon is spent at the gym and on my way home I swing into a high-end supermarket to find something to bring with me. My mama raised me to never show up empty-handed so with that in mind, I spend a good amount of time selecting a nice bottle of red wine. I choose something chocolate for dessert, hoping if nothing else it will continue to endear me to her daughter. Finally, I make a pit stop at the florist, purchase two bouquets of bright tropical flowers, then head for home.
By the time I pull my truck up in front of her house and kill the engine, I’m the one with the nerves and hesitation. This neighborhood where she lives is rough, though it appears that her duplex is well maintained. Still, I don’t like the idea of two women living here unprotected, but I doubt they would welcome anything I could say. At this point I’m nothing more than the guy who helps Emmy with her homework and someone Sabrina happens to work with. Getting any closer is going to take a monumental shift on her part and still more patience on mine.
The house is alight as I step up to the door and ring the bell. I hear murmured voices from inside and a moment later the deadbolt is being undone and Emmy greets me.
“Hey, Roman. Wow! Those flowers are so pretty.”
I hand over the smaller of the two bouquets. “Here you go, kiddo.”
Her smile could light up a dark room. “Really? I’ve never gotten flowers before.”
Filing that snippet of information away for another time, I step into the small living room slash dining room and glance around. It’s not big and the furniture has seen better days, but the space is spotless and there’s an immediate sense of warmth and family that envelopes me. The few frames on the wall are all pictures
of Emmy at various ages. There’s only one of the two of them, obviously taken when Emmy was just an infant, her mother looking terrified and uncertain as she stares into the camera. Sabrina looks remarkably the same now as she did then, though it’s easy to see the strain she carries in her eyes because she’s raising a child alone—or rather I assume she’s raising her alone. I’ve never asked, and she’s never offered.
“Look, Mom. Roman brought me flowers.” Emmy skitters over as her mother enters the room, her eyes finding mine almost immediately. “He brought you some too.”
Sabrina’s face flushes, and she quickly averts her eyes. “Thank you, Roman, but that wasn’t necessary.”
I hand her the flowers, murmuring, “Yes it was.” Dropping the bag with the dessert and wine onto the counter, I take a moment to look her over. Dressed casually in dark jeans, the flimsy loose blouse drifts over her skin like satin, revealing her collar bone. Man, what I’d give to nibble on that morsel of skin or to slide my hands around her small waist and pull her in close. I dwarf her completely and even though she’s relatively tall for a woman, my height and size makes me a menacing force next to the two much smaller women. “So what can I help with?”
Sabrina shakes her head and moves into the tiny kitchen, pulling the oven door open. “Nothing. Dinner will be ready soon. What can I get you to drink?”
“I brought wine.”
Emmy pulls the bottle out of the bag and shoves it toward her mother then dips her hand in once again and comes up with the chocolate double-layer cake. “Look, Mom. He got my favorite.”
While I’m silently high-fiving myself, Sabrina shoots me a smirk. “Nice job. Flowers. Chocolate.”
Chuckling, I reply, “See, I am a gentleman after all.”
One blond brow shoots up in doubt, but it’s her daughter who barrels in this time, grabbing my hand and pulling me down the hall. “Come here a sec. I wanna show you something.” I barely have time to sneak a peek into Sabrina’s room before Emmy pulls me into hers and shuts the door, whispering, “I want to show you what I’m working on for Mother’s Day.”
