And she was sexy as hell wearing his clothes. She was sexy wearing anything, but seeing her in the oversize shirt stirred up distinct memories. Though he preferred to see her wearing nothing at all.
“Oh yes you did,” he told her. She had climbed into his lap and tried to kiss him, and as much as Roman had wanted to kiss her back, he would never take advantage of any woman in such a compromised state. If she was going to kiss him—and he didn’t doubt that she would—she was going to be sober. And she would come to him. “I practically had to beat you off with a stick.”
She glared at him.
He laughed. “Okay, I’m lying about the stick part, but you did put the moves on me. You were all hot and bothered.”
“I’m sorry,” she said with a wince.
Sorry? Last night had been the most fun he’d had in ages. The best part had been watching Gracie watch him dancing with all of those young, beautiful women, knowing she was crawling out of her skin with jealousy.
And the worst part had been watching that Dax character ogling her. That guy had his sights on Gracie, and not just for her philanthropic abilities. Roman had watched him watching her, and could tell the state senator had known as well as Roman that she’d been overdoing it on the drinks. So when Gracie left the ballroom, and Dax followed her, Roman had followed him. He’d never cared much for politicians, and that man had bad news written all over him, so Roman wasn’t surprised to find him hovering around the general vicinity of the ladies’ lounge.
Rather than allowing Gracie to find herself in a compromising position—and he’d had no doubt about the senator’s intentions—he’d collected their coats and headed for the lounge hoping Gracie hadn’t already been caught up in the man’s web. Dax was still standing there looking irritated and impatient, glancing at his watch. When he saw Roman approach he’d flashed a phony smile.
“Roman!” he’d said, as though they were old friends.
As if.
“Seems like a man in your position wouldn’t want to be caught hanging out around the ladies’ room,” Roman had told him.
Dax had laughed, but there was an uncomfortable edge to his voice when he said, “Just taking a breather.”
They both knew that was bullshit. And Roman had never been one to sugarcoat the truth. “This breather wouldn’t have anything to do with the fact that Gracie is in there, would it? Or that she’s drunk?”
The man’s smile had wavered and he’d puffed out his chest. He’d known he’d been busted. But Dax stood several inches shorter than Roman, and was in what could only be considered average physical shape. Roman could take him out with one solid crack to the jaw. Not that he would hit anyone unprovoked, but damn would it have felt good to knock that smug smile off his face.
“Are you her keeper?” Dax had asked him.
“Try me and find out,” Roman had said, and his words had taken Dax back a step. As Roman had assumed, he was all talk.
He’d held both hands up in defense. “I just wanted to be sure she made it home safely. But clearly she’s in good hands.”
Yeah, the only hands she would have anything to do with that night. And when she’d stumbled out of the lounge a few minutes later Roman had gotten her the hell out of there.
“I never get that drunk,” Gracie said now. “Not off four drinks.”
Is that what she thought she’d had? Damn, she must have been worse off than she realized. “Hate to tell you, sweetheart, but you had more than four.”
She frowned. “I did?”
“I saw you hit the bar at least six times.”
Her eyes went wide again “Six? I did not!”
“Oh yes you did. You were knocking them back like a woman on a mission.”
“Why didn’t you stop me?”
“Because you’re stubborn as hell and you wouldn’t have listened. Knowing you, it probably would have made you drink more.”
Her pained look said he was right.
“What did you eat yesterday?” he asked her. He couldn’t even count how many times in the past he’d had to remind her to eat, and sometimes go so far as force-feeding her. She’d always been so busy and he doubted that had changed much.
She gave it some thought. “Breakfast. Maybe?”
“Maybe?”
“It was a busy day.”
“You didn’t eat at the fund-raiser?”
She shook her head. “Please tell me I didn’t make a fool of myself.”
“No, but that Dax character had his sights set on you. I don’t like him.”
“I worked on his campaign. He’s a decent guy.”
“A decent guy who wants to get in your pants. Or panties. And by the way, you look good in pink lace.”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “I thought you said it was dark.”
“It was, but I see really well in the dark.” She had been so out of it, he’d had to carry her into the house and up the stairs. And with the light streaming in from the hallway, it hadn’t left a whole lot to the imagination.
“Would it be too much to ask for a ride home?” she asked. “Or I can take a cab. Honestly I don’t even know where I am.”
“You’re not going anywhere until you get some food in your stomach,” he said.
“I’m not quite there yet. My head is still pounding and my stomach feels iffy.”
“Then sit back and relax. How about a cold compress for your head?”
“Are you sure you don’t mind? If you have things to do...”
“It’s Saturday. There’s nothing that can’t wait.”
“I usually work Saturday,” she said. “And Sunday. Mostly on charity stuff.”
Clearly they shared the same work ethic. “Not today. Today you’re going to relax.”
“I guess I could stay for a little while,” she said. “And the compress couldn’t hurt.”
“Lie down and make yourself comfortable. I’ll get it.”
He pushed himself up off the sofa and the effort made his left leg, which was more titanium than bone, ache. He had been in bad shape when he and his men had been rescued. His femur, which had been shattered in one of many beatings, had become infected. Had it been a day or two longer he probably would have lost his entire leg from the hip down. A week and he would have gone septic. The rescue had come just in the nick of time.
After several surgeries and months of
