had too much awareness of Allie next to him, her body flowing through the positions effortlessly, her breathing deep and even. She didn’t seem the least bit bothered to have him so close. It aggravated him in a way it shouldn’t have, but he wanted to force her to acknowledge that he was right there.
“Roman, you seem distracted.” The instructor—he couldn’t remember her name, but it was something like Tiffany or Tracy—stopped next to him, using a light touch to adjust his Warrior I stance. “Focus on your breathing. Inhale deeply.” She demonstrated, exhaling slowly through her nose in an audible sound. He followed suit, and she nodded. “Exhale your thoughts. Let your breath center you. You gave yourself this time today. Don’t waste it.”
He tried. Fuck, he tried. But each inhale brought a faint strain of Allie’s lavender scent, and when she turned to face the side of the patio, he found himself captivated by the faint sheen of sweat on her golden skin.
It was too much.
With his being so goddamn in tune with his body, there was no fighting the threatening cockstand. Roman turned on his heel and stalked away, into the main building. He needed distance from that woman, but fuck if it helped. Her scent was in his system, her body a siren call he had no business hearing. She didn’t want him—not now that she knew who he was.
He shouldn’t want her, either.
But he did.
Roman considered heading straight back to his villa, but the thought of being alone right now only increased his agitation. This was a mistake. Which part was the biggest mistake was up for grabs, but he was considering chalking the entire situation up as a loss.
With nothing left to do, he walked into the bar. It was a small space—no more than a serving counter with a handful of lounge chairs facing the ocean—as everything on the island was. He motioned to the bartender. “I need two shots of whiskey, and a double seven and seven.”
The man’s eyebrows rose. “Sure thing. You’ve got the run of the place, so post up wherever you like.” He turned back to select two bottles from the wall behind him.
Roman didn’t want to sit, but standing there and hovering while the guy made his drinks wasn’t going to win him any goodwill. He had enough people pissed at him currently, so he strode to the middle lounger and dropped into it.
Lazy streaks of color teased the darkening blue of the sky, the first sign of day giving way to night. Roman welcomed the change even as he dreaded what it meant. Another day down. Another night closer to failure.
It might not be the end of the world if he didn’t secure Allie’s cooperation in franchising her gym model, but her gym would go under. He’d seen the financials. She couldn’t keep it afloat much longer, and it’d be a goddamn tragedy to see it fail. He knew she didn’t look at it that way, but if she’d stop fucking reacting and listen to what he had to say, she might see things differently.
Right. Because I’ve been the very essence of calm and collected.
Her rejection stung. He wasn’t about to lie and say it didn’t. It sure as hell did. She hadn’t just rejected the professional persona he displayed for work—she’d rejected him. The sex changed things, for better or worse. Looking like for the worst at the moment.
The bartender brought his shots over and lined them up, quickly followed by his drink. Alcohol wasn’t the best choice—not when he needed to be sharp and fully present—but he wasn’t going to be around Allie tonight, and the rest of the island could sink into the sea for all he cared. Roman downed one shot and then the second. The fiery burn of whiskey did nothing to chase away his... He didn’t even know what the fuck to call what he was feeling. It wasn’t pleasant—that was all that mattered.
Women’s voices carried over the beach, and he tensed. Before she walked around the corner, Roman already recognized Allie’s voice. She stopped short when she saw him, but Becka rolled her eyes and gave her friend a small shove. “Enough, already. I get it—he’s a jerk. I won’t even argue with you.” She winked at Roman, not looking the least bit repentant. “But I want a drink, and this is the quickest way to get what I want.” She gave a brilliant smile to someone behind Roman. “Hey, gorgeous. Can we get something fruity and alcoholic?”
“Sure thing, ma’am.”
Becka launched into how horrified she was to be called “ma’am” while she walked to the bar, but Allie stopped at the foot of Roman’s lounger. “You ran off pretty unexpectedly.”
He gave her body a slow caress with his gaze, from her bright pink painted toes to her yoga pants to the tank top that offered her breasts up to perfection. “I was preoccupied.”
She inhaled sharply, and he didn’t miss the way her nipples pebbled against the fabric of her shirt. “Don’t play games with me. It happened. We’re done. End of story. Stop bringing it up.”
“I didn’t bring it up.” He climbed to his feet slowly and then closed the distance between them. “A word.”
“Excuse me?”
“We need to have a goddamn conversation, so get your panties out of a twist long enough to unstopper your ears and hear what I have to say.” He grabbed her hand and towed her into the growing shadows beneath the palm trees framing the walkway to the beach. Roman didn’t stop until they were out of sight of the bar and far enough away that Becka’s flirting with the bartender was barely audible. Only then did he release Allie and turn to face her. “Now, where were we?”
* * *
Allie was so furious, she could barely put two words together. “You don’t get to just decide that we’re having a conversation and haul me out here to do it.”
“If I was going to haul you anywhere, it’d be over my shoulder.”
Her body clenched at the thought of him doing exactly that, but she fought her reaction back. “You are insufferable. Do you know when the last time I had a vacation was? Ten goddamn years ago when I was still in freaking high school and on spring break. Ten. Years. Becka had to twist my arm to get me here, but I was enjoying myself—”
“I know exactly how thoroughly you were enjoying yourself.”
She ignored that because if she tried to deny it, she’d be a red-faced liar. “That changes nothing. The point is that I’m not enjoying myself now, and the only one to blame for that is you.” She went to push him back a step, but her hands had a will of their own. They stayed on his chest, and she sucked in a breath at how warm his skin was. The man might be a corporate suit, but he looked perfectly at home in his shorts without a shirt on here in the growing darkness near the beach. It was almost enough to forget all the reasons she never wanted to see him again.
Allie stepped closer and lowered her voice. “Nothing you say can make me believe you’re anything but a goddamn shark.”
“Who said I’m trying to convince you of anything?” The words brushed her mouth as he leaned down, just a little. “I am a shark, Allie. I’ve never pretended to be anything else.”
She started to call him a liar, but he was telling the truth. He hadn’t tried to seduce her with sweet words to get her into his bed—he’d offered her exactly what she wanted in as many words. Black-and-white. Simple.
