CHAPTER 4

“STOP WATCHING THE DAMN DOOR and start watching the fight.” Declan waved toward the flat screen, his amused tone grating Roman’s already frayed nerves.

They came to the Red Barron to watch one of Roman’s regular clients, Ion Constantin, cage fight in the big leagues of MMA. Ion had brought in plenty of referrals from the gym after Roman finished his sleeve and they genuinely liked the kid. They’d been watching him kick ass in the local circuit for the last year. Now that Ion was getting his shot in the big time, they wouldn’t miss the chance to see him tear up his opponent. Roman would just have to stop eyeing the door long enough to see it.

“I’ll bet you anything that chick ain’t coming back. A girl like that thinks she’s too good to work at a tattoo shop.” Declan traced the edge of his glass with his ring finger, the good humor gone and a dark look in his eyes.

There was a story behind that statement. Roman only knew a small piece. Declan had been carrying a torch for Roman’s stepsister since they were just a couple of kids at the skate park. At one point Roman caught them kissing in the backyard, but she’d gone off to college and started dating yuppies who wore ties and Rolexes. Nothing but high class for Ann and heartbreak for Declan—not that the moody ass would admit it.

Roman leaned forward, slapping his hand on the table hard enough to slosh the beer in their tallboys. “I’ll take that bet.”

Declan hadn’t seen the way Gigi lit up when they rounded the wall into the gallery space. Excitement burned in her eyes at what the gallery could be. Even though she’d left this bar with a guy that was more Ann’s speed, if Roman had to guess, the douchebag wasn’t the kind of guy that set Gigi on fire. He wasn’t so sure she was the picture of innocent sophistication she was presenting. If she walked through that door, he planned to strip her bare and find out just what kind of girl she really hid under that veneer.

“Oh no—if she comes in here and takes the job you are staying away from this one. I know that look in your eyes. Have you forgotten about Jessica already?”

“Gigi is not Jessica.”

“How do you know? You only just met this girl.”

“This girl already has class. Jessica was just looking for a sugar daddy.” Roman relaxed in his chair, propping his boots up in the empty chair in front of him.

Declan pointed at Roman with one eyebrow raised. “That’s not what you thought before she fucked around with Lou.” Declan shook his head like he was clearing cobwebs. “Shit man, I’m sorry. That was a low blow.”

Lou owned the shop he and Declan worked at before they went into business for themselves. Jessica had done piercings and operated the front desk. He should probably thank Jessica for sucking off their boss. Roman might have waited to leave the shop and would have missed his chance at the great spot in NewBo if he hadn’t forgotten the engagement ring he’d planned to give her that night. He walked in on Lou standing in his office, ass hanging out and Jessica on her knees in front of him.

“Fuck them—and fuck you too. You taking the bet or not?”

“Why not—drinks are on the loser.” Declan shrugged. “If she comes, you’re gonna need to get shitfaced when she breaks your heart and then drinks will be on you. I’ll win either way.”

Turned out they didn’t have to wait long. Gigi came in like a pink storm cloud. The spark in her green eyes, crackled with the lightning of her mood. She wove through the sparse Friday evening crowd and he swore he could hear the echo of thunder in her wake. He wasn’t sure if he should be thanking whoever pissed her off so that he could witness her like this, or run for shelter. He’d take his chances on Gigi.

“When can I start?” She flung the question at him.

He crossed his arms over his chest, causing his muscles to bulge. He leaned back in the chair so that the front two legs left the floor as he marveled at her. “Tomorrow too soon for you? We open at eleven.”

“I’ll be there.” Gigi gave him a curt nod before turning on her heel and marching to the bar.

Roman watched with fascination as she stood at the bar, drumming her fingers while she waited. When she had the barkeep’s attention, she muttered her order. He placed a shot glass on the counter in front of her and filled the glass with pink tequila. She slid a bill across the counter, picked up the glass, tossed it back, and then slammed it back down.

Something got under her skin. That was for damn sure. Roman gave Declan a sidelong glance as the bartender refilled Gigi’s glass. Declan raised one eyebrow in question and nodded his head towards where she stood. Yeah, he wanted to know too.

The crack of the chair legs as Roman brought them down and stood got lost in the chatter of the bar. By the time he reached her, she’d slammed the second shot.

“Slow down there. You’re gonna make yourself sick chugging your girly tequila like that.” He closed his hand over her shot glass. “Something bothering you?”

Gigi took a deep breath, her back ramrod straight and her arms rigid at her sides with her phone gripped tight. “I needed to wash a bad taste out of my mouth.”

His eyebrows shot up. He didn’t know what to expect but that hadn’t been it. “I promise you, working at the shop won’t be that bad.”

“I didn’t mean that.” Gigi bit her bottom lip as if forcing back a smile. She turned towards Roman, giving him an appraising look like he was a side of beef. Her voice was flat. “Tequila isn’t really helping. It’s too bad you’d get me into trouble.”

He slid the glass away from her. Yeah, he was cutting her off. “I don’t think you should drive. Can I give you a lift home?”

She waved him off, but whatever storm had been in her eyes had clearly blown through. Now her expression appeared vacant as her gaze meandered around the bar, looking everywhere but at him. Then her phone pinged and her shoulders came up rigid once more. She glanced down, and like that, the storm returned.

“I’ll be fine. I live within walking distance actually.” Her stiff posture and clipped tone screamed that she was anything but fine.

Whoever was on that phone had to be driving her mood. “Let me walk you then.”

Gigi opened her mouth to answer but was cut off by her phone pinging. Her knuckles turned white as she gripped it. He’d put money down that if she hadn’t been standing in front of him, her phone would have been flying across the bar—her agitation was that apparent.

“Sure. I’m going to hell anyway.”

The text messages started ten minutes after she left her parents’ house. She had been five blocks from the bar when the first ping taunted her. She wanted to know what trick Chad played to get that past her father. John Duval did not allow phones at the dinner table and these messages were not PG-13. The last message had her accepting Roman’s offer to walk her home.

DICK PIC: Take your panties off princess. Meet me at Red Barron.

That was immediately followed by a second text from Chad that made her want another shot and the nearest escape route.

I want you bare under that skirt when I get there.

That had to be the shortest dinner her parents had ever put on, unless Chad begged off for an emergency and the emergency was her. Just the thought sent a chill down her spine that had Roman giving her a funny look.

She needed to leave this bar now.

Roman leaned across the counter and waved at the bartender. “Close my tab for the night.”

After another minute, the barkeep was handing him back his card. Roman pushed through the crowd, opening her a path to follow. The regulars had been sparse when she first arrived but now with the hour growing late, things were starting to pick up. Maybe it had been longer than she thought. Whatever—the shots weren’t affecting her that much and she knew her limit. She hadn’t reached it with fruit-flavored tequila.

“So, do you own anything other than white t-shirts and jeans?” Gigi asked as Roman led her towards the door.

His hand grazed the small of her back. God, she felt that to her toes.

“Do you own something other than pink? Even the tequila you were drinking was pink.”

That dragged an involuntary peal of laughter from her. She glared up at his golden eyes and the easy smile that made her want to pet his scruffy five o’clock shadow. God, what would that feel like against her skin?

He reached around her to open the door allowing the cool evening breeze to hit her. She almost groaned when she caught the scent of his cologne. It smelled earthy and yet fresh, like clean cotton but richer—spicier if that was such a thing. Whatever it was, she wanted to grab hold of his shirt and just smell him. Would his skin be salty or sweet? She was dying to taste him. Her senses ran in overdrive for this man.

“Which way?” His voice pulled her out of her smutty thoughts.

She pointed left towards C Street. What had they been talking about before she’d been sucked into her sensory daydream? Oh, those yummy shots she’d been slamming.

“Don’t knock it,” Gigi said at last, trying to sound normal. “Tequila Rose tastes like a strawberry crème saver and goes down smooth.” Just like I do. The words were on the tip of her tongue, but she was keeping them to herself. Ann would be proud.

“Are you one of those girls that only drinks the cutesy fruit drinks? Not that there’s anything wrong with it…” She bristled at the laughter in his tone.

Grabbing his hand, she crossed the street, and then turned at the corner and crossed again, cutting into a small parking lot.

“This is me,” she said gesturing at the building they approached.

Her two-story building reminded her of an Americanized version of a European villa, complete with fake balconies across the second floor windows and stucco exterior. The first floor contained storefronts and off to the side a green arched door served as the tenant entrance.

“Those cutesy ones are sneaky.” Gigi leaned against the doorframe and looked up into his eyes. “The sugar hides the hardness beneath until it’s too late and you’re already drunk.”

Roman braced one hand over Gigi’s head and leaned in towards her, his voice an intimate whisper. “Does that describe you too? Are you sweet to hide the hardness under the surface?”

His lips were so close. She licked hers and his eyes seemed to focus on her small movement. How was she supposed to not kiss him? That hooded look and his scent made him a magnetic force drawing out that needy part of her. He wasn’t her boss yet. Would one kiss be so damning? It wouldn’t qualify for the book she’d promised Ann to keep him out of. But then, she rarely stopped with just a kiss.

His golden eyes were searching, asking for permission. A fucking gentleman. Somehow, that made him sexier.

“Taste me and find out.”

His eyes widened with her whispered dare. For a second she thought he would back off. Her need flared brighter with that banked amber fire in his eyes.

Roman leaned in, his lips brushing hers, testing. His eyes never left hers. It amped her need up another notch. That teasing touch made her throb. That he watched it all added to the lure. She liked to lead but this slow seduction had her enthralled and her panties ruined.

“Goodnight, Gigi.” The whisper was a purr against her lips.

She blinked in surprise. That was it? The hottest moment she’d felt in months and he just stopped? The confusion must have shown on her face because he smiled. Not a cocky grin, but a promise. Oh shit—what did that mean? He pushed off the doorframe and stepped back. Tomorrow he would be against the rules. She wanted him now.

“Roman—wait.” She reached out, laying her hand against his chest.

His heart raced beneath her hand making her breath catch. He felt it too.

“You’re right, sweet hits you harder than you expect.” His smile was soft but he turned away, calling back over his shoulder, “See you tomorrow.”

Gigi covered her lips with her fingertips as if she could hold in that moment. This was too good for the book. He’d be in a book all his own if he kept this up.

A horn honked and she jumped, the intrusion breaking the spell that Roman’s lips had started. She opened the door and scurried inside, rushing up the stairs. Dick Pic was still out there looking for her. He might even have seen her.

She could never be with a man like Chad—now categorized as a onetime mistake. What about a man like Roman? Could she have him for more than her usual no-strings arrangement? Maybe she should thank Ann for that promise after all. Kissing Roman Bishop would be playing with fire. A bigger part of her than she liked wanted to burn that particular candle all night.