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She felt a moment’s panic, thought maybe it was Adam coming back to harass her before she realized it wasn’t his voice.
It was the man from the alley. The customer.
“Oh… hello.” She was frozen in place, her mind awhirl, torn between an instinctual happiness to see him again and the warnings of her mind and body that he was a stranger.
A man. He might do anything to her, might have all kinds of nefarious motives.
He stepped cautiously toward her, away from a sleek black Jag with tinted windows idling at the curb.
He stopped when he was a few feet away, leaving more space between them than was normal for two people talking.
She relaxed a little and edged toward the storefront next to Roasted to get out of the way of the crowd moving along the sidewalk.
He followed suit, keeping the same amount of distance between them.
“I wanted to check on you,” he said. “To make sure you’re all right.”
There was something slightly formal in the way he spoke, and she wondered if English was his second language.
And he really was striking. Adam was handsome, but this man’s beauty was something else, the difference between a new piece of furniture and one with history. There were stories etched in this man’s gray eyes, in the bump on his slightly crooked nose, as if it had been broken at least once. His cheeks were angular, his jaw as sharp as a chisel, and he had just enough dark scruff on his face that she could imagine what it would feel like against her skin.
He might have looked hard if not for his full mouth, and she suddenly wondered what it would be like to kiss him, to have those giant arms wrapped around her, a refuge from the storm of her life.
“I’m okay,” she said. “Thanks to you. I… well, thank you again.”
He nodded. “Can I give you a ride home?”
“Oh… I don’t know…” She didn’t know this man. He could be anyone. She wanted to trust him because he was beautiful. Because he’d helped her.
But none of that meant he could be trusted. You could know someone for years, for ages, and not know who they really were. That was the truth of it.
He gestured to the Jag. “I have a car, a driver.” He hesitated, then rubbed at the shadow on his chiseled jawline. “The truth is, I’ve been worried about you getting home.”
“You’ve been… worried? About me?” It should have creeped her out. Instead, warmth spread through her body.
He nodded. “I don’t like the idea of you walking home alone or taking the subway after… after what happened.”
How pathetic. This man thought she was some wounded animal, someone who needed saving.
She smiled. “I get home alone every day, and like I said, but what happened today has happened lots of times before. I can take care of myself.”
His nod was slow. “I can see that. This is a me problem.”
She tipped her head. “Ayouproblem?”
He shrugged, and damn if he didn’t look hotter than ever doing it, his broad shoulders straining the fabric of his expensive shirt. “I’m afraid my knight-in-shining-armor complex won’t be satisfied until I see you safely home. I’m working on it in therapy.”
She laughed in spite of herself. “You’re in therapy for your knight-in-shining-armor complex.”
He nodded sadly. “It’s been quite… difficult actually. Helping little old ladies cross the street, rescuing kittens from trees, getting beautiful baristas safely home in the big bad city.”
Now she was smiling, feeling like a fool. What a weird day.
“My daughter has a thing. At her school. I have to go home and pick her up another outfit before I get her from my sister’s. A ridewouldsave me time.” It was true and she tried to ignore the voice in her head that said she was a liar, that she just wanted to spend more time with the charming, enigmatic and very hot man standing across from her. “But you’ll have to tell me your name. Otherwise I’ll be accepting a ride from a stranger.”
He held out his hand. “Roman.”
She took it and a little — okay a big — zing of electricity shot through her body as his giant hand closed around hers.
