just who Roman is. I know who Dr. Archibald is, but Roman? I saw that determined, hungry, passionate being in the diner.
Just the thought of him, of his hands on me, has me heating in ways that are most inappropriate. His rugged scent lingers lightly in the air, drawing back all the memories of when I caught a sniff firsthand.
Running my fingertips over the cool leather back of his chair, I imagine him sitting ever so seriously as he contemplates saving the world. Can he save me?
However, all thoughts of being saved are literally put to the test when I hear sharp footsteps headed this way. Squeaking in panic, I frantically look from left to right. I need a hiding place. Unless I’m gifted in the contortionist department, then the closet will have to do.
I yank open the slatted door, thankful nothing is inside except a few coat hangers and an ironing board. Shutting the door, I seal the gasp from my lips when Roman charges into his office, appearing to run away from something.
The slats on the door allow me to see out, but I can only hope he can’t see in. He paces the office, visibly distressed. What’s left him so breathless and flustered?
When he yanks open the desk drawer, I crane my neck to see which drawer it is. The contents get swiped from side to side as he’s obviously hunting for something.
He reveals what a moment later.
The light reflects off an orange medicine bottle as he raises it to his lips and tosses his head back, swallowing deeply. The sight shocks me for so many reasons. At the forefront is that I didn’t realize he was on any medication. I wonder what it is and what it’s for. He slams the bottle onto the desk, bracing his hands on the edge and bowing his head, obviously attempting to calm down.
His wide back rises and falls, becoming steady as the seconds tick by. When he appears composed, he stands tall, brushing the fallen hair from his brow. He leaves his hand threaded through his snarled locks as he squeezes his eyes shut and breathes heavily through his nose.
His navy tie sits askew, the two top buttons of his shirt undone. What has happened for him to lose his cool this way?
He looks defenseless and poignant, and the sight breaks my heart.
When a set of light footsteps patter down the hall, Roman’s eyes pop open. He quickly brushes the pills into his drawer. He adjusts his tie and runs a hand down his face.
“Roman?” The partly open door slowly swings, revealing Tamara as Roman’s pursuer. When she sees him standing by his desk, she smiles and shuts the door behind her, sealing us all inside.
He coolly places his hands into his pants pockets, waiting for her to speak. His demeanor differs greatly from what I just witnessed a minute ago.
“Is everything all right? One minute, we were talking about your birthday, and the next, you were running away from me as if I had just asked you to sell me your soul.”
He chuckles, but it doesn’t sound genuine. “Sorry, Tamara. I just forgot to do something very important.”
Stepping forward, she says, “That’s okay. If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were avoiding talking about your thirtieth. There’s nothing to be ashamed of.”
“I’m not ashamed. I just don’t like celebrating my birthday. You know this,” he counters, taking a step backward to every step she advances forward.
She knows this? Do they have a past then?
“I know, and I wish you’d tell me why.” Why is his birthday such a touchy topic for him?
She stalks him until he rounds the desk, and his knees hit the chair. He’s trapped, yet he stands tall while she slinks over like a tigress hunting her prey. She runs her fingertip along the collar of his shirt.
Instead of covering my eyes, I step forward, intrigued.
“Tamara, I told you I can’t give you what you want.”
“You are what I want,” she says, winding her fingers around the back of his neck.
My heart accelerates when I witness her stand on tippy toes and kiss the corner of his curved lips. She moves to the other side, kissing the crease while he remains still.
I should look away, but I can’t. The sight is too sinful, and I…I’m hooked. Watching Roman this way does something I have never felt before. A small fire builds within.
“Tamara, no, we can’t,” he says as she lunges forward, desperately trying to