Back In The Enemy's Bed. Michelle Celmer

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СКАЧАТЬ attracted to her? Oh no he didn’t. He did not just suggest...

      Sutton glanced up at her and did a double take. She must have looked as horrified as she felt.

      “I’m not asking you to sleep with him,” he said, though his tone suggested he would have expected her to do it had he asked.

      Or maybe she was being overly touchy under the circumstances. He wasn’t necessarily in his right mind.

      “Just take him out a few times. You used to be good friends. He’ll open up to you,” Sutton said.

      What did he think she was, a spy or something? A female James Bond?

      She couldn’t deny the lure of spending time with Roman. Purely out of curiosity, of course. Just to see what he was like now, and how much he had changed. But this was crazy. “Daddy, I don’t know if I can do that. You know I’m not a good liar.”

      “So don’t lie,” he said, and when she frowned his gaze softened. “Princess, I don’t have much time left and I don’t want to spend it embroiled in another scandal. Brooks is still determined to take us down and I think Roman is helping him.”

      “He said he’s not.”

      Her father’s brows lifted. “And you trust him?”

      She sighed. Of course not. What reason would she have to? He’d lied to her before. Why would she assume that he would be honest about anything? She was smarter than that.

      She shook her head. “No, I don’t.”

      He held his hand out and she took it. His skin felt papery thin and so cold. He had aged so much in the past few months, and it broke her heart.

      He squeezed. “I need to know what to expect, Princess. You’re the only one I trust. I need you to do this for me.”

      And the guilt train pulled into the station. This was how he got her every time, and as much as she wanted to, as always she couldn’t say no.

      “Okay,” she told him. “I’ll do it.”

      “Do you have a date for the Welcome Home fund-raiser this weekend?”

      She rarely took dates to charity functions, but a social interlude in a very public place sounded like a good idea. Though Roman had always hated formal affairs, and having to wear a “monkey suit.” But Welcome Home was an organization to assist wounded vets and their families, and being a wounded vet himself, he might make an exception.

      “I’ll ask him to join me,” she said, then added, “but only as a friend. I will not lie to him, or lead him on in any way. And if he says no, I’m done. I won’t beg him.”

      “Trust me, Princess,” he said, with that rare tenderness in his eyes. “He isn’t going to say no.”

      * * *

      How in the hell had he ended up here?

      Roman sat in the back of the limo, watching the lights of Chicago whiz by through the tinted window, but the view inside the vehicle was the one getting him all hot and bothered.

      Gracie was seated opposite him, with one tanned, shapely leg peeking out from the slit of an apricot silk evening gown. She was on her cell phone, speaking fluent French. She’d always had great legs, but they hadn’t come from hours of working out in the gym. She was one of those naturally thin women who could eat whatever they wanted and whom other women loved to hate.

      Roman wasn’t fluent in French, but he knew enough to understand that it was a business call. After several minutes she said goodbye and slid her phone into her clutch.

      “Sorry about that,” she said.

      “That’s okay,” he told her, lowering his gaze to the leg playing peekaboo with her gown. “I’ve just been sitting here enjoying the view.”

      She shot him a look dripping with exasperation. “Really.”

      He grinned and gestured out the tinted window. “The view of the city,” he said, though she knew damn well what he was really looking at. And he couldn’t help but notice that she made no attempt to cover her leg.

      She liked that he was looking. And he liked that she liked it. Clearly the past seven years had done nothing to douse his desire for her. The musky scent of her perfume enveloped him like a warm blanket, heating him to the core. It was the same brand she’d always worn. Her silky hair, pulled up in a mass of blond curls, revealed a long, slender neck he would love to kiss, and diamond-studded ears he was dying to nibble on. As a young woman she’d been cute and spunky with a mischievous glint in her eyes. Now, at twenty-seven, she was a knockout. And despite all the time that had passed, and all the discord between them, he still felt a familiarity and a closeness that puzzled him.

      “So, are you ready to tell me what all this is about?” he asked her.

      “All what?” she asked innocently, but he could see her squirm a little. She had always been a terrible liar. Which made what he’d put her through seven years ago even worse. Though she had never given him a reason not to, he hadn’t trusted her, and he’d paid the price.

      “Tonight,” he said. “Your text was very...elusive. I was surprised when I got it.”

      “I was a little surprised that I sent it.”

      “Didn’t get enough of me the other day, huh?” he asked with a grin, which seemed to make her even more uncomfortable. “Or you just couldn’t get a date.”

      “Just to be clear, this is not a date. This is two acquaintances sharing a ride to a social function. And as I already explained, since it’s a fund-raiser for wounded vets, I thought you would be interested in attending.”

      He shrugged, shooting her a knowing smile. “If you say so.”

      “Some of the most influential people in the state will be there. You’ll make good connections.”

      “You sure this nondate has nothing to do with the fact that you wanted me to kiss you in the library the other day?”

      She blinked. “When did I say that?”

      He grinned. “Sweetheart, you didn’t have to. It’s been seven years, but I can still read you like a book.”

      “I seriously doubt that,” she said, but her eyes told a different story. Like maybe she worried that he was right. “I’m not the same naive, trusting woman I was back then. And don’t call me sweetheart.”

      “How about Princess? Can I call you that?”

      She glared at him.

      He shrugged. “Sorry, Gracie. I thought you liked terms of endearment.”

      “But that’s not why you said it. You’re not nearly as charming as you think you are.”

      “But I am charming,” he said, waiting for a kick in the shin.

      She rolled her eyes instead. “I know you think so.”

      “Honey, СКАЧАТЬ