Page 13 of Valentine’s Billionaire Auction

“You should never ask a woman that.”

“You should never ask a guy if he’s banged his friend’s mom, but you whipped that right out at me.” He smiled, like the sun breaking through the clouds. “So maybe we don’t have to be so formal.”

“I guess,” I said, pretending that smile hadn’t made me feel anything. My mouth hadn’t gone dry and my heart wasn’t hammering in my chest.

“You don’t have to answer, of course. It’s your choice. But then I’ll have to make my own assumptions.”

I couldn’t stop my curiosity. “And if you were to guess, what would you say?”

He reached for my hand, shocking me, and ran his thumb over the back of it.

“Are you a palm reader?” I asked nervously.

“No, but my grandmother said you could always tell by a woman’s hands. I’m guessing twenties.”

I laughed and pulled my hand back. “There is a huge difference between twenty and twenty-nine. A whole lifetime.”

“And by that statement, I’m guessing you’re on the high end of the twenties.”

I nodded. “Twenty-nine.”

He squinted his eyes at me like he wasn’t sure he believed me.

“I’m twenty-nine, you ass,” I said.

He nodded and grinned. “Good. I find anyone under twenty-five to be insufferable. Not enough life experience. Well, usually.”

I took another sip from my glass and told myself I just needed to get through the next hour or two. Then it would be over. I would go back to my life, and he would do whatever it was he did. For the moment, Roman lounged in his seat like he owned the world. He probably did, at least the expensive bits of it.

When we pulled to a stop, I nearly gasped. The restaurant was breathtaking, perched right over the ocean with floor-to-ceiling windows offering views of the moonlit water.

“I’m not dressed for this!” I exclaimed.

“It’s fine,” he said calmly.

“Oh, sure, you’re in a suit. You’re fine. You’re not the one who’s going to embarrass themselves.”

He held up a palm. “No, I mean no one is here. You can go in wearing a garbage bag if you want.”

“What?”

“I reserved the whole restaurant for whatever date I was going to be forced to be on. It’s just us.”

“Of course,” I sighed.

He smiled again. “You have the weirdest reactions to good news.”

Without another word, he got out of the car and came around to open my door. Ugh, the show-off. Grumbling under my breath, I allowed him to help me out and he led me toward the entrance, two big silver doors that looked like the gates of heaven.

The staff greeted Roman like royalty. I followed him in, trying not to feel too self-conscious in my boring black outfit, knowing I had been sweating in it earlier. True to his word, the place was completely devoid of customers and even the space was wide open. A single table in the center was covered with a red tablecloth and two flickering candles, and it was just for us.

The restaurant was decked out for Valentine’s Day in red, white, and pink. It was all very elegant and pretty, staying just this side of tasteful. It softened some of the anxiety plaguing me since I sneezed and turned my whole world upside down.

We were seated and a waiter presented a bottle of wine for Roman’s approval. He nodded but said nothing. Our glasses were filled and then the feast began.

It was a steady stream of dishes, each more elaborate than the last. Roman ate with gusto, completely at ease, while I worried about every little thing I put in my mouth. Was I eating too fast? Too slow? Did he think I was a slob? I honestly didn’t even know what most of the dishes were. I could be eating frog eyes, and I wouldn’t know any better.

If they were, they were tasty as hell.