Love Found Me (A City Love Novel, Book 1) (10 page)

"My
former
employer. So why'd Finch want to see you?" She prompted, "You were there because..." Danielle looked straight at him still, muffling a sound of annoyance. Only this time, his hands slapped to his lap the instant she'd jostled her feet from his palms.

His legs were still parted open, when he froze, as he watched her studying his features. His hands suddenly fell to his sides. Roman realized she'd had no intention of letting him off the hook easily--but in his mind... he wouldn't come close to understanding her sudden irritation. He was barely aware and didn't want to waste another second thinking about what she'd asked.

And then he gave a wry smile saying, "So, I guess the party's over," when he turned around in his seat and blew out the candles.

Suddenly a tremor shook his body when his phone vibrated, jolting him in his seat.

Roman glanced at his phone, as he held it beneath the lip of the table. He didn't feel right about leaving to answer the call at that moment, but he could suddenly tell the shift in her emotions treading deeper waters.

She was evidently upset about something, her mouth pinched, her eyes narrowed as she gave a blank stare toward the kitchen. Danielle captured the images she knew would have to come to an end--it all seemed too perfect, aside from the fact he was hiding something. She couldn't risk going to that place again, even for the sake of loving.

When she left her ex-fiancé, she'd vowed never to make the same mistake again--never to fall into the disastrous trap of loving again. But then, that was when she'd thought men were simply out for one thing--loathsome scum who didn't deserve the love she'd fought to withhold.

She cringed at the shocking thought of her hoax of an engagement that proved one thing--she'd have to listen to her gut instead of worry sucking her into painful reminders that she was--a thirty-year-old with no marriage prospects. Evidently she wasn't desperate enough to ever compromise her standards.

Roman would have to prove himself more than debonair and charming in her book. He would have to be a man of sound morals who loved with his whole heart and nothing less. But she had yet to find such a man she could call her own--Jack excluded.

Danielle felt Roman's eyes roving her suspicions as he stared into her profile. 

He'd evidently not trusted her enough to tell her what was going on. And she obviously wasn't going to stick around for another man to lie to her. Maybe her heart was saying, that plan would have to go on hiatus.

Seeing frustration so clearly stamped on Danielle's face, Roman wouldn't believe for a second she channeled her love, energy, and passion into anything but a career. But now since she was vulnerable in that aspect, there was no time like the present to find out what in the world was going on with her erratic behavior.

Chapter Eight

"Come with me." He held out a hand to her. Roman stood up and bowed just enough to catch her fluttered gaze landing everywhere but his face. Her eyes darted behind him towards the bachelor alcove fitted with steel facades and expensive cookware suspended over a huge centered grill-cook top flanked in earthy veined granite.

He wasn't certain whether to tread those unsteady waters circling, but shockingly he was aware that any other man wouldn't have. But Roman wasn't that kind of man to ever turn his back on a woman in need. He wasn't used to having to fight it out. Most women would have given themselves in a heartbeat. But there was something sexy about a feisty, intelligent and beautiful woman, with a shrewdness to challenge his behavior and himself.

The way she'd leaped out of his reach as soon as he'd held out a hand to her could hurt a guy's ego if he let it. At the same time, Roman knew all she was going through would cause anyone to panic in a situation like this. He knew better-- to tame his desires instead of lusting in her hypnotic sensuality.

Unfortunately, as she dove her eyes to the Moroccan rug, he found himself unable to take his eyes off her sweetly rounded curves and lashes that would've aroused the tiger in any man. 

"Come on, I won't bite," his words fell away as he repeated, "Just let me expl-"

She watched him try to get her to smile, but it never quite crescent until she looked straight at him for several seconds and yet, she couldn't deny the warmth melting her heart, tickling every hair on her body.

He held out a hand to her again, as she said, "Not unless..."

"Okay," he responded.

He ran his hands through his hair, the thick spicy cologne dragged to the living room, while his scent carried her with it in pursuit. "I know this is going to sound crazy, but I--" Danielle had already grabbed a seat on the tufted leather watching as he'd moved across the room to her, and dimmed a table lamp near the sofa.

She frowned for a quick second noticing he'd cut off his words in mid-sentence.

Danielle dug her feet into the fur, combing the hair between her toes, "Are you having second thoughts?" she asked, with a spry caution that would've rivaled his angst in negating the circumstances.

She could see his impassive eyes brewing secrets, as he sat wringing his hands with a sudden off the wall expression. She frowned, the moment she'd caught a glimpse of what she could only believe was the hard wall she couldn't seem to penetrate no matter how hard she tried. She knew that any word uttered from his mouth would be far from the truth. And Danielle wasn't about to stick around for a load of crap. She had to leave and rethink the situation.

Her eyes glinted moonlight as she reached into her purse -- toffee suede hobo bag -- on the coffee table for her keys. 

Suddenly she'd sprung off the sofa. "My apartment's right upstairs," she tossed back her shoulders, "That's where you can find me when you decide to tell me what's going on."

She let herself look at him for a long moment.

Danielle narrowed her eyes, trying to fathom his expression in the faint light that hazed the room a muted auburn sunset. The way she stood, rooted to the rug in front of him with a veil of moonlight illuminating the rosy luster enveloping her face. The natural poutiness of her faded crimson said it all.

It was clear, that Roman was utterly confident in his decision.

Roman stared at her, eyes wide, mouth open. "Wait!" he bolted off the toffee leather faster than lightning and grasped her arm pulling her back toward the sofa.

"Roman!" She belted his name in a loud raking tone, as her thoughts raced through her head one after another, her focus still bolted on the exit. Danielle continued frantically, as she shuffled to the foyer, but his strong hand cupped to her arm like gravity wrenching her backward.

They hadn't gotten far from the door when Danielle turned to face him, with her arm still wrenched in his hand. "Roman Jules... that is your last name isn't it
Jules
... well, I need answers, and I need them
now
." She was nearly out of breath. But then her sudden buoyancy sustained the thought, "This is
my life
we're talking about, and if you're somehow involved I--"

Now Roman looked troubled. He loosened his grip around her slender elbow, as her words fell away and flooded his ear. The brief squabble was cut short. Finally, she had stopped in her tracks, now standing beneath the foyer light haloing a smoky aura. "Danielle, you're right. You're absolutely right. You deserve to--"

There was a knock at the door.

A shadowy figure burst through the foyer.

Roman could hear Danielle sobbing, and now the soft, shivering of her sweet voice in agony. Panic was the poison that plagued every intense second.

Roman would not remember the heavy whack when he'd smacked into the bookcases and rolled over the rug and Mediterranean vase, banging and thumping toward the ironclad hardwood. Nor would he recall her scream that nearly shook the entire building when the intruder ran at breakneck speed toward the fire escape in head-to-toe black.

The gaveling of fists and nerves of fury as they electrified the foyer inhibited a maddening calm, moments after the grizzly man bolted and disappeared into the midnight he camouflaged.

Like Danielle, Roman was mad as hell.

The next thing he knew he had awoken next to Shakespeare, Aristotle, and Dickens, and a fountain of shattered glass from an accent table lamp with one foot sandwiched beneath the area rug and the other bowed backward on the maple wood.

When he woke, his wail sawed in and out, "Danielle... Danielle!" In that unbelievable moment, his mind was alive with the memory of what had happened.

She couldn't stand being any more trouble than she'd already been.

"Roman, I'm right here," she darted from the foyer. His heavy body mashed and shattered anything under pressure of his monumental figure. The rug underfoot pillowed his back in fur. His fashionably ripped denim tore through the mess of broken ceramic and tousled bric-a-bracs, but it had shrouded him from any serious damage.

"Oh, my God are you--" she said, her eyes glassy and hands trembling, as she felt a sob swell her chest in pain for him.

His head was heavy on her, as she knelt beside him and lifted his head to her thigh. "I'm so sorry Roman," she said, threading her fingers through his hair. With her eyes full of tears, "It's all right" she said, as she nestled her head toward him brushing his hair away from his forehead.

Instead of leaning to kiss him, she looked down at him and said softly, "Let me help you up." Fortunately, there was no bloodbath with all the bone crunching that ripped through the foyer.

Roman's legs swept through the mess as he propped himself up on his elbow. A piercing sigh breathed from his mouth as she enfolded her arms around his sweaty viscous torso. Her slender delicate flesh groped his lank and heavy frame as her body virulently mounted them off the floor.

"I could--" he gasped in a choked voice that, quite naturally breathed his err of defiance.

Danielle quickly interrupted him, "You don't want to do anything that'll make matters worse."

"But those bastards tried to hurt you." Roman replied, clearly unintimidated, as she steadied his balance toward the sofa, he added, "I got 'em good though."

Roman was clearly cognizant despite the ordeal when he'd stressed, "Danielle, I think you should drop it. Let the experts handle it,"

"Nonsense," she said, with a dismissive wave of her hand.

"But you don't understand--" He hesitated, although there was no hesitation on her part. Only a growing suspicion of that letter marked "Confidential" that may have held greater bearing toward her initial qualms.

"I think it's a warning." She caught a breath. "I think they're trying to frighten me from exposing a target."

Sounding instantly renewed, Roman confirmed, "Target?"

Danielle explained to Roman, "Yeah. It's probably got something to do with Finch Young," she hedged, "Honestly, I don't know for sure."

He could see the defiant woman in her eyes, the woman who prided herself on teetering caution and fool-hearted judgment. He could feel it in his bones that warned him,
She'll stop at nothing, even if it means plunging herself deeper into danger
.

As they weaved past the coffee table crunching their steps, he was careful not to cut himself on the broken shards of glass as Danielle swept her ruffled toffee suede up by the handles that rolled to the floor in all the chaos.

If I could just put my finger on which--

Then it hit her.

She carefully banked that quick flash of fear before saying, "The SUV."

Danielle dug in the pit of her purse, "Here," she gestured, as she uncrumpled a small slip of paper.

"What's this?" he asked.

"I didn't tell you earlier but--" she started, as he looked at her with increased focus.

Danielle managed to explain how she'd come to acquire the license plate of the dark SUV that nearly ran her down in the garage yesterday morning.

Instantly, Roman slid his feet to the sofa arm and swallowed. The two words she'd blurted nearly seconds ago, gripped his tongue as if she'd spoken in gravity, prompting him to wring his hands with a fierceness of a soaked sponge, sapping all the life out of it.

There was a moment of eeriness when he just said, "Okay, great." The crumpled note stared back at him, shaking with his nervous handling, when he'd quickly slipped it into his jean pocket without her notice.

At that moment, Danielle didn't know what was going on, and she couldn't blame him for any adverse feelings towards her given the circumstances.

Unfortunately she had nowhere to run but to the truth. And seeing as how she couldn't gain access to the truth without inside access to company records, she would need Roman's expertise to fuel her mission. Whether he realized it or not, all love aside--she would have to stick to her motto--
It's business, not personal
.

Being so, the faint irritation in her eyes was set aside. Settling deeper into the tufted back, she asked, "How 'bout we call it a truce and work together on this... Clear the slate?" Roman shook his head, "All right, if that's what you want."

Danielle crossed her arms to his blank gaze, scowling a mutual bitterness. As thoughts raced her mind one after the other, she hadn't bothered to question his sudden preoccupation. She just found herself thinking,
Stick to your motto
.

And so she wrote in her journal…

Monday night

A lot has happened over the last couple of days. Roman and I are, scratch that-- We were becoming closer. I'm worried about him, and our relationship--if there is one, I mean. I just don't understand him sometimes, or maybe he just doesn't understand me. I think he can tell. If this goes on, I very well might lose what never had the chance to start.

Oh, and finding out about Jack, that sorry loser excuse for an ex, brought closure--well, sort of. Ugh, how could I have been so stupid? It's crazy though. I thought I was over him and the whole ordeal, but knowing he has a young child and all, makes me wonder if that's something I'm missing, something I didn't know I wanted until well--I'm getting way ahead of myself.