Page 13 of Along Came Amor
Roman felt it prudent to set himself apart from these less than sterling examples of heroism. “In case you were wondering,” he said, “I don’t like opera, I’ve never built a Death Star, and I can use a washing machineandwrite a check.”
Ava’s tone was skeptical. “I feel like one of those things is a lie.”
“You’re right, my Death Star’s parked in the garage.”
She grinned. “I knew it.”
Since she’d brought up her ex, Roman couldn’t resist a follow-up question. “How long were you married?” he asked, then winced. Damn his inner chismoso. “Sorry, you don’t have to answer that.”
She gave a little shrug. “It’s fine. We were married for three years, together for ten.”
“How did you meet?”
“In college. His mom and my great-aunt live on the same block and he didn’t have a car, so I gave him a ride home for Thanksgiving one year.”
“Have you...” How the hell did he ask this without sounding insensitive? He cleared his throat. “Have you dated at all since...”
“Since my ex and I separated a year and a half ago?” Sheshook her head and turned away, resting her elbows on the railing. “No. All I’ve been able to think about was getting the divorce completed. What about you?”
“Me?”
“Ever been married?”
He leaned on the railing, watching her while she watched the sunset. “No. No time.”
She sent him a curious look, her delicate brows drawing together.
“My whole life has been focused on work,” he admitted. “Relationships don’t usually last longer than whatever event we need to be seen at.”
Her forehead crinkled. “What does that mean?”
He sighed. Why had he mentioned that? “My publicist arranges my dates. Like if I’m attending a premiere, or a gala, or whatever, she pairs me with another one of her clients. And yes, I realize how it sounds.”
“Sounds like work,” she said lightly, and he nodded.
“It is.” He didn’t want to get into a discussion about his previous relationships, the ones who seemed to be less interested in him as a person than in what he could buy them. Or how he hadn’t dated much since his mother and sister moved in with him five years ago.
Yes, he’d had sex with some of the women his publicist had set him up with. Women who understood the “see and be seen” game and were down for a little bedroom companionship, but who were ultimately just as focused on their own careers.
For Roman, work always came first.
Except for right now, apparently.
Right now, he was supposed to be on his way back to the city,nothanging out on a roof in New Jersey with a stunningand intriguing woman. But despite his responsibilities and the to-do list nagging at the back of his brain, he found he could ignore them more easily than usual.
Ava toyed with her necklace again. As if she could hear his thoughts, she said, “I’m probably keeping you from something important. I can get myself food, if you need to—”
“No, it’s fine.” He spoke quickly, before she could talk herself out of eating with him. “I want to have dinner with you.”
She twisted her fingers together and looked down at his loafers. “Roman, I’m flattered. Truly. But I don’t understand why someone like you is doing all this for...”
“For...?”
Tension coiled in his muscles as he guessed what she was trying to say. He should leave it alone, but the part of him that wanted to fix things for people couldn’t let it pass.
Her throat rippled as she swallowed, and when her eyes met his, there was a wealth of pain in them. “For someone... like me.”
“What do you mean by that?” When she raised her hands helplessly, he pressed. “Someone gorgeous? Someone kind? Someone who’d rather be stuck with a godawful Jersey Shore drink than complain or inconvenience anyone? Why do you think you’re not worthy of good things?”
