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Chapter Six
At sundown, they gathered on a terrace under a canopy of fairy lights. Although Adrian and Jason had made it in time for dinner, one guest – one of the boys – was alarmingly late. Naomi refused to delay any further and they moved to the table. The seat to Samantha’s right remained empty through Amelia’s welcome toast. And then he walked in.
Clean shaven, sharply dressed, easy and self-assured … he was a lot to take in. If Samantha hadn’t been sitting down, she would’ve fallen to the floor.
Naomi hopped to her feet. ‘Roman! You made it. We gave up on you.’
The man had the nerve to smile and roll out a smooth, self-deprecating laugh. ‘I see that. Sorry.’
Samantha watched him chat with Anthony and bump fists with the best man. Who was this charmer? Where was the grump she’d met earlier today?
‘We saved you a seat. You’re at the far end next to my friend Samantha.’ Naomi pointed at the seat she’d stupidly thought reserved for the ghost of her ex. ‘You’re in good hands. She’s friendly. Sam! Raise a hand so Roman can see you.’
Samantha couldn’t raise a finger if she tried. She was paralysed with disbelief. Seriously, what were the godforsaken odds? At any rate, it didn’t matter. Roman’s gaze narrowed on her. A quick flicker of surprise, a hint of a smirk, and he was back to chatting up Naomi.
When he finally deigned to sit next to her, he murmured a greeting to Jen and her date, and introduced himself to Jasmine, Hugo and their better halves. Then he turned to her: ‘Am I really in good hands?’
Samantha toyed with her dinner knife. ‘I’d have no trouble wringing your neck, if that’s what you mean.’
The corners of his eyes creased with a smile. ‘I might enjoy that.’
She had no doubt he would.
Relaxed, unruffled, he addressed the table. ‘What are we drinking?’
Answers came from all directions.
‘Water.’
‘Beer.’
‘This rum punch is nice.’
When the server came around, Roman chose a local beer. Samantha reached for her glass of water and sipped past the lump in her throat. ‘I’m guessing you’re Anthony’s mate from uni?’
‘I’m his college roommate,’ he corrected. ‘Don’t get fancy.’
She rolled her eyes. ‘Do we need an interpreter?’
He considered her a while. ‘I think we understand each other.’
God … this was going to be a long night.
‘Your name really is Samantha, not a fake name you give out with your fake number?’
‘My fake name is Daphne, and I don’t give out my number.’
‘Never?’
‘Not to strangers with bad attitudes.’
‘Stranger?’ he protested. ‘We’re past that. You came to my family’s shop. You met my grandfather.’
‘Is that all it takes?’
He bunched his long, thick brows, not understanding. ‘We’re in Tobago.’
‘Right.’
