Her Man To Remember. Suzanne Mcminn
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managing to sound blithe. “I haven’t had a chance to see much of Thunder Key, and if I’m going to be making a property investment here, I’d like to find out more about the island first. It wouldn’t be a date,” he added to defuse any argument before she made it.
Again he caught her faint blush.
“I’m sorry I made such a big deal about that,” she said. “I know that sounded stupid. I’m not ready to date, that’s all.”
“Why is that?” he asked, carefully.
She was very still, then she answered in a quiet voice, “I’m not sure. Really, I don’t know why I’m even telling you this.”
The confusion in her soft eyes hurt him.
“I know how you feel,” he said gently. “I was married, but—” he began, then waited. For a reaction, anything—
“But what?” she prompted, her eyes wide.
One heartbeat, two. “I lost her, in an accident.”
She blinked. “I’m sorry,” she said, sympathy gleaming in her eyes. He even saw moisture there. She was ready to cry—for him.
Leah had always been one to respond to others’ pain. Not long after they’d married, one of her friends from the studio had suffered an inoperable back injury in a car accident. Like Leah, Nikki Bates had no family, and it had been Leah who had sat by her hospital bed, visited her with food and helped her when she was finally sent home. And no one had been more crushed than Leah when Nikki overdosed on pain medication only weeks before Leah disappeared.
The suicide of someone so close to her had torn Leah apart—and it was for exactly that reason that when one of the crash investigators had tried broaching the possibility that Leah might have driven her car over that bridge on purpose, Roman had flatly dismissed it. There was just no way. Leah had been too hurt by Nikki’s death to ever leave anyone else with the cruel guilt of losing someone that way.
Roman changed the subject, not ready to talk more about the past yet. Not ready to risk that she would remember him before he’d had a chance to convince her that he was a different man.
“What is this?” he said, reaching out to touch the artistic creation of beads, feathers, branches and suede in the window. There wasn’t much in the apartment, so he was curious about what she would choose to display. He had to focus on getting to know this new Leah.
“It’s a dreamcatcher.”
“What’s that?” he asked. He’d never seen anything like it.
“It’s from an old Native American legend,” she explained. She touched the beaded suede laces that made up a web. “The web catches the good dreams, and the hole in the center—” She put her fingers in the opening. “The bad dreams go out through here.”
“Do you have bad dreams?” He stepped closer to her, wanting so much to hold her. He had to clench his fists at his sides to prevent himself from following through on the urge.
She nodded. “Yes. Sometimes.”
He couldn’t stop himself from asking, “About what?”
“I don’t know exactly,” she said softly, looking away. “I never remember much of them.”
Was he the bad dream she couldn’t remember?
Now it was her turn to change the subject. She took a deep breath, exhaled and looked straight at him again. “Why don’t we go downstairs to Morrie’s office and you can talk to him on the phone, then I’ll—” She gave a light shrug, smiled her crooked, heart-destroying smile. “Maybe we can go down to the boardwalk. Joey will be in, and a couple of the waitresses. I don’t have to be here till later. If you still want me to, I can show you around.”
“That sounds perfect,” Roman said. He forced a smile, feeling like a lying bastard in spite of all his good intentions. But he was fully prepared to keep on lying, as long as he had to.
He needed time. He needed to seduce her all over again—and this time he needed to do it right.
He’d lost Leah once, and he’d be damned if he was going to lose her again.
Chapter 3
What drugs had she been on when she’d decided this was a good idea?
Okay, she didn’t do drugs. Had never done drugs. That she knew of. But Leah was pretty sure she’d been high on something when the words, If you still want me to, I can show you around, had popped out of her mouth.
Morrie had asked her to get to know his potential buyer. He wanted to sell the bar, but not to just anyone. He wanted to know the bar wouldn’t be torn down or all the staff fired. But she hadn’t had to offer to take Roman around town. It had been an impulsive, stupid idea. It wasn’t even like her to be impulsive. At least, if it ever had been like her, it wasn’t like her now. She was careful, cautious, wary.
But she knew what’d had her high.
Roman Bradshaw’s dimple that—when he smiled—made her think he wasn’t scary at all. But it was an illusion. He was scary. Her strong reaction to him was proof.
And now she was stuck with him for the whole morning. Thank God they weren’t alone.
Smugglers Village teemed with activity. The boardwalk included a bookstore, a sandal shop, a sportsman’s paradise, the standard touristy T-shirt booth and a cozy little restaurant offering a menu of Keysy food. The Artisans Cove was full of New Age samplings like incense, candles, oils, yoga guides, along with jewelry and clothing. A number of artists showcased their work on consignment, taking turns to work in the shop. Leah manned the counter one morning a week.
“So these are yours.” Roman touched a display of beaded bracelets. He’d dressed in jeans today, with a white T-shirt that clung to his shoulders and pecs. He was an eye-catching man, and she wasn’t the only one who’d noticed.
The artist working the cash register had lifted her brows when they’d come in, but Marian had been helping another customer, thankfully. Leah felt uncomfortable coming into the shop with Roman. She’d made it clear to everyone she knew that she wasn’t interested in dating, and she didn’t want anyone to get the wrong idea now.
“Yes, those are mine,” she said, then realized he’d pointed them out before she’d told him. “How did you know?”
“Just guessed,” he answered easily. “They remind me of the work I saw in your apartment.”
“These are mine, too.” Leah pointed at another rack holding crystal and ethnic stone necklaces. “And the designs in that window.” She indicated a clothing nook near the door. “I use all hand-printed fabrics from a studio in Key West.”
“They’re beautiful,” Roman said. “I’m impressed.”
His fingers were long, strong-looking, and she found herself staring at them. Wanting to touch them.
“Don’t be,” she said. “It’s nothing. It’s just something I do for fun.” She forced herself to look away from his hands, unnerved by how everything about him fascinated her, drew her and repulsed her all at once.
He turned from the jewelry counter, an intense look suddenly crossing his face. “You always do that.”
“Always do what?” A dizzy sensation crawled up her spine. Do I know you? And he’d told her no. Had he lied? How would she ever know?
“You put yourself down. You never—”
“You don’t even know me. How can you say that?”
Now he was the one who looked off-kilter, and his gaze on her was odd.
“You’re right.” He looked away. “I don’t know why I said that. These are great, that’s all. I gave you a compliment. Just say thank you.”