Page 12 of Hate to Crave You
Julianna
One cocktail turned into two,which turned into an invitation to dinner at a sweet little Italian place in Midtown.
Her driver let her out in front and Julianna started to think she’d wasted time going home after she’d wrapped up her business for the day to put on a sleek black dress that was sexy in an understated way.
It definitely looked like she was overdressed.
She quickly learned she was wrong, because while the place looked like a hole in the wall, it turned out to be a gem.
Julianna turned to Roman with a delighted smile. “This place isbeautiful,” she exclaimed.
It looked like an Italian grotto, complete with columns and greenery. Small strands of lights stretched overhead.
It wasn’t anything like the posh, but somehow rigid environment she’d expected from Roman Montrose.
He grinned at her, that slow smile tugging at things she was better off not thinking about, considering who he was. “Why do you sound so surprised? I’m a master when it comes to picking out all things beautiful, Julianna.”
There was an intimacy to his tone that had her fighting back a shiver.
“Hmmm…” She managed to summon up a note of skepticism and withdrew her arm from his as the hostess approached.
They were escorted to a table tucked in the back, partially shielded from the rest of the diners by the greenery carefully positioned around the table. Roman pulled out Julianna’s chair and she sat down, trying to ignore the flutters in her belly. She hadn’t felt butterflies like this since her last date. Actually, no. She hadn’t felt butterflies like this inseveraldates. She couldn’t remember the last time, really.
Feeling them with Roman Montrose was unsettling.
What would her parents think?
“Do you mind if I select a bottle of wine?” Roman asked, picking up the wine list lying in the middle of the table.
She gestured at him, indicating he was welcome to do so. She doubted she’d drink much of whatever wine he ordered. She had what her mother referred to as a plebeian’s taste in wine—the sweeter, the better.
But she could suck it up and pretend to enjoy whatever dull vintage he ordered. She could even make all the right comments about the nose and the bouquet.
Several minutes passed as bread was brought out, the wine was served and their glasses filled with sparkling water. She took the glass of wine when he lifted his.
“We should drink to the future,” he said, crooking that amazing grin of his at her. His eyes, the palest of blues, held a warmth that added to the flip-flops going on in her belly.
Instead of saying anything out loud, she just lifted her glass to his.
To her delight, the wine was wonderful, rich and tart, the hint of sweetness making her want to grab the whole bottle and keep it away from him so she could enjoy it all.
“That’s excellent wine,” she said, sighing happily.
“The family who owns the vineyard are friends of mine,” he replied. “I’m glad you like it.”
She reached out and turned the bottle around so she could see the label, tucking it inside her head so she’d remember it.
“I imagine your father was glad when you decided to join the business with him,” Roman commented.
She glanced at him. “Of course. Wasn’t yours?”
They spoke about their respective families for just a few moments and when a brief lull came, Roman leaned back in his chair, eyeing her with an intense, penetrating gaze.
It was so intense, she had to fight the urge to squirm.
“Do you remember when we met in Switzerland?”
She blinked at him, the question surprising her utterly, it was so completely out of the blue. “What? When did we meet in Switzerland?”
