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‘Is that a promise?’ he drawled.
‘You—’ She growled at the silent receiver in her hand. Roman was on his way to ‘help her pick out an outfit’, apparently. That should go well!
* * *
A sense of anticipation gripped him as he approached Eva’s suite of rooms. It was useless telling himself this was wrong, and that she was a baby and he was not. A fiery baby, maybe, but an innocent one, none the less.
So why was he taking the stairs two at a time?
Because he wanted her and she wanted him. Why complicate things?
He knocked on the door. She swung it wide. ‘Problem?’ he said, walking in.
‘This,’ she said, gesturing at the gown rail. ‘An advance on my dividend? Do you know how small my personal investment in the mine is? I’ll never be able to pay you back for all this.’
‘So don’t keep all of them. Choose one.’
‘Even one of these outfits would take me a decade of dividends to pay off. And what’s wrong with what I’m wearing?’ she said, indicating her jeans. ‘Or are you ashamed to be seen with me?’
‘Not at all. I don’t even know what makes you think that. I just thought it would be nice for you to have some clothes to choose from.’
And he was right. It was better than nice. Did she have to throw every gesture back in his face? ‘I just feel awkward,’ she admitted. ‘I’m not used to all this fuss. It was very thoughtful of you, but it’s too much.’
‘I’m just trying to save time. Stop ranting and start dressing is my advice, or we’ll lose our table.’
‘I hardly think that’s likely.’ Bearing in mind who had booked that table, but she was hungry, and—
‘Look, Eva. If you’re so worried about paying me back, why don’t you come and work for me?’
The bombshell dropped out of the blue, and she had nothing to say to that. No speech prepared.
Roman shrugged as he walked deeper into the room. ‘Come work for me,’ he said as if this were the most obvious solution in the world. ‘You don’t want to be a freeloader. And I’m not trying to buy you. So pay your way. That’s fine by me. My aide Mark pulled your CV and I’ve read it. Your qualifications are every bit as good as Britt’s, so why have you never used them? What’s your problem, Eva? What are you frightened of?’
‘I’m not frightened of anything,’ she scoffed, blushing as she turned away, but curiosity got the better of her in the end. ‘What type of job?’
‘Well, let’s see now,’ Roman murmured as he flicked through the dresses on the rail. ‘I think this one. What do you think?’ He held up an elegant dream of a dress in navy blue silk. ‘I think this colour would look wonderful with your hair.’
‘You haven’t answered my question.’
‘I’ve got some good ideas, and that’s all you need to know right now. Try this on. We can talk about work over supper.’
‘You talk and I listen, presumably?’
‘We’ll both talk and we’ll both listen,’ Roman countered, holding her gaze. ‘I thought working on behalf of the mine was what you wanted, Eva?’
‘I’ll listen to what you have to say. Of course, I will,’ she added, wanting to sound receptive rather than belligerent for once in her life. She didn’t dare to hope that tonight her wishes could all come true at once.
* * *
Roman had judged the supper perfectly. He had a deft touch when it came to matching setting with mood, and had chosen a warm little womb of a place where it was impossible not to feel relaxed. Bustling and busy, the decor, in shades of red and old gold, was slightly old-fashioned and slightly shabby and all the better for it. The owner greeted Roman in a way that suggested he had been eating in the same place for years, and there was an air of confidence about the restaurant that suggested it had been in the same family for generations. There were quiet booths, soft lighting, and a jazz singer performing wistful songs at low volume at a piano in the corner. Eva and Roman occupied an end booth where they had more privacy than most.
‘I couldn’t eat another thing,’ she assured him when the waiter brought their coffee. The food had been delicious, but it was hard to concentrate on anything other than the fact that they were sitting across a narrow table from each other with their knees almost touching.
‘You look lovely, Eva. I’m glad you like the dress.’
Almost without realising it, she smoothed the skirt. She had never owned anything quite so elegant. She lived her life in jeans or polar trousers, so the dress was quite a departure from her usual style. She was glad he didn’t gloat that she’d given in. There were battles worth fighting, she had learned, and others where no one lost by backing off.
