Because she had come to mean everything to him.
“Tomorrow.” Though it was against his better judgment, there was no other choice he could make. “We’ll tell them tomorrow.”
“Thank you for giving me refuge tonight,” she said softly.
“No more thank-yous,” he said in a gruff voice as he made himself put some distance between them instead of moving closer. “This is what friends do for each other.”
The hopeful look on her face at the word friends nearly had him reaching for her. But he knew that if he did, it wouldn’t end at a hug. Or even a kiss.
If he pulled her into his arms tonight, he’d never be able to let her go.
A previous client had said he was a superhero. But Roman had never felt superhuman until the moment he had to use every ounce of self-control he possessed to move away from Suzanne and walk into the kitchen.
They hadn’t stopped to eat on the drive back and she’d been working too intently to eat any of the snacks he’d packed for her. She needed something to soak up the wine she was already sipping, but he wasn’t going to ask her if she was hungry. After the shock she’d just had, she’d probably say no, but if he could get good food in front of her, he’d somehow persuade her to eat it.
Roman quickly sent several text messages to his investigators asking them to dig into the city’s underground channels regarding the fire in Suzanne’s apartment building, then got out flour and eggs for fresh pasta, tomatoes and herbs for the sauce. When he turned around, he was surprised to find her pulling out a cutting board.
“I’ve got dinner covered,” he said. “Why don’t you sit down and try to relax? Maybe even take a nap until the meal is ready.”
The stubborn look on her face would have made him smile if he hadn’t been so full of fury—and fear—on her behalf. If she’d been asleep in her apartment when that fire had smoked into flames…
No. He couldn’t go there. Couldn’t even begin to imagine a world without her laughter, her brilliance, her beauty.
“I’ve always dealt with things head on,” she said as she grabbed a tomato and a serrated knife. “But after fighting with my brothers last night on the dock and then finding firefighters at my place today—” She stopped slicing. “I just need a few hours to try to be normal, you know? Make a meal with you. Maybe stream a movie on the couch with a bowl of popcorn. You do have popcorn, right? Or wait—chocolate ice cream would be even better.”
He gripped the edge of the counter so tightly to keep from putting his arms around her that he was surprised it didn’t crack. “I can get you ice cream and popcorn.” He wouldn’t leave her side for a second, of course. “A kid around the corner runs errands for me sometimes.” Eddie was the fifteen-year-old son of one of the guys the teenage Roman had beaten to a pulp, so badly that he’d lost an eye. Roman had helped out the family any way he could since then, which included keeping an eye on Eddie and making sure the kid stayed out of trouble. “I’ll send him a text to let him know we need microwave popcorn—”
“With extra butter.”
“How else would you eat it?” He was glad to see her smile again. A little one, but a smile nonetheless. “What kind of ice cream?” he asked.
“As close as he can get to chocolate fudge super chunk.”
“I hadn’t noticed your sweet tooth.”
Her small smile widened. “That’s because I wasn’t ready to divulge it to you yet.”
She was so breathtaking as she stood in his kitchen smiling despite her crappy day that his fingers fumbled on his cell phone screen as he sent the message to Eddie. The kid texted back so quickly Roman didn’t even have time to put the phone down.
“He’s on it. He said he’ll be here with the goods inside of ten minutes.”
Looking relieved to know that junk food was on its way, she found his wooden salad bowl, tossed the tomato slices into it, then washed the celery and began to chop it. Not only was this the first time a woman had settled into his kitchen as if it were her own, it was also the only time he’d ever let a woman into his loft, period. Since he never planned on letting women stay, it was easier to keep them out entirely. Food and sex had always happened either out on the town or at their places.
But having Suzanne in his home felt completely right.
The realization made it hard to keep his hands steady while he rolled out the pasta dough.
“Tell me the funniest—or weirdest—thing you’ve ever had to deal with on the job,” she said. Though she was doing her best to hide it, he could tell how shaky she still felt. “I promise the story won’t go any further.”