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“I thought we were eating at Axel Tribeca.” I sigh. “I would have worn a wrinkled sweatshirt and jeans if I knew we were coming here.”
Laughing, her eyes widen. “That guy is headed in our direction, Bianca.”
As tempted as I am to turn to look at the man she’s talking about, I don’t. He’s probably going to breeze right past us to the table near the corner where four college-aged girls are having the time of their lives as they share a giant sandwich.
I watch my cousin’s expression as he approaches. The smile on her face broadens as she tucks a lock of her hair behind her ear.
“Bianca?” I hear his voice as soon as his hand brushes against my bare shoulder. “It seems we both have excellent taste in food.”
I glance up, knowing who I’ll find standing next to me.
Roman Hawthorne, wearing a pair of faded jeans, a gray T-shirt, and a ball cap, smiles at me.
Dammit.
Sabrina’s right. Even dressed down, the man is a stunner.
Chapter 12
Bianca
I’m reasonably sure that Roman can see right down my dress. It’s low-cut enough that the top of my breasts are visible from his vantage point.
I watch him fight to keep his gaze on my face, but he’s losing that battle.
“I’m Bianca’s cousin.” Sabrina darts to her feet to present her hand to Roman.
He takes it for a shake. “It’s good to meet you, Bianca’s cousin.”
“Sabrina,” she says with a laugh. “I’m Sabrina Marks.”
He glances at me before he sets his attention back on her. “Roman Hawthorne.”
“Roman Hawthorne,” she repeats his name. “Bianca didn’t tell me anything about you, so fill me in.”
I try to shoot her daggers with my eyes, but she counters with a wicked smile.
“Thirty-two, attorney, Mets fan,” he says. “I’m here picking up some take-out.”
Sabrina inches closer to him. “How do you two know each other?”
I push to my feet because I’m not about to let Roman lead that discussion. I don’t need Sabrina to know that I was downing vodkas on Tuesday afternoons at Rolly’s Pub.
Sabrina and I discovered the pub together one night six months ago. We stumbled on it after we viewed a building nearby that she was considering investing in.
“Bianca was at Packton’s offices when I dropped by yesterday,” Roman announces before I can come up with a lie about how we met. “John has a project that I may invest in.”
I glance at him to find him smiling at me.
“I have yet to decide if it’s a wise move on my part to partner with him,” he adds.
I can’t tell if he’s serious or not. He’s a lawyer, not a real estate mogul. Unless he’s amassed so much wealth that he’s tossing it around Manhattan the way Thurston does.
“Would you like to join us?” Sabrina motions a hand toward the small table we’ve been sitting at. “I can pull up a chair right next to my cousin for you.”
I give my head a slight shake. “Roman said he was picking up his take-out. I’m sure he has someplace he needs to be.”
“Roman!” As if on cue, Jo, the woman who owns the diner, calls out his name. “Your food is up!”
His gaze darts over his shoulder. “I’m on my way!”
“It looks like you have a big appetite.” Sabrina gestures to the two large brown paper bags in Jo’s hands.
Roman pats his rock-hard stomach through the thin material of the T-shirt. “I’m not easily satisfied.”
Sabrina laughs. “One of Jo’s cheeseburgers is enough to satisfy me.”
“What does it take to satisfy you, Bianca?” Roman asks with a tilt of his chin.
I stare into his dark eyes, drawn deeper by the intensity of his gaze.
I can’t tell if we’re still talking about food, so I clear my throat in a desperate attempt to break the moment between us. “You should go get your order. You don’t want it to get cold.”
A ghost of a grin floats over his mouth. “I’ll do that.”
“Bianca will see you soon,” Sabrina offers. “I’m sure you’ll need to discuss more details about John’s proposal with him in person.”
Roman’s gaze volleys to her before it settles back on me. “I will see you soon.”
I fall back into my chair when he turns to walk away.
Sabrina does the same. “Holy hell, Bianca. Did you see how he looked at you? He’d eat you right up if you gave him a chance.”
I let out a nervous laugh. “He’s an intense person. He looks at everyone that way.”
“Yeah, no.” She shakes her head. “Mark my words, Marks. That man wants you.”
I finish what’s left of the tepid water in my glass. “Let’s forget about him and order dinner.”
Her gaze darts beyond my shoulder. “Mr. Intense is leaving. You’ll keep me updated on what happens between you two, right?”
“There won’t be anything to update.” I run my fingertip along the edge of the menu. “I’ll probably never see him again.”
