She takes a few more steps into the room, and I follow her gaze as she takes it all in. It really is something—the candles, the soft classical music playing from built-in speakers, and the table.

The room itself is done in white, everything pristine, but the table set for two in front of the balcony doors is the centerpiece. Low candles burn in the middle, and it’s decorated with two long-stemmed roses, resting gently on the tablecloth.

“Wow,” Jenny breathes softly, and for a moment she seems smaller, overwhelmed. Then she draws herself up to her full height, and the girl I used to overlook in the high school hallways is gone. “How long do I have?”

“All night.”

That punches through her professionalism. “All night?”

“I wasn’t kidding when I said I wanted to show you the best.”

She shakes her head, looking truly uncomfortable for the first time. “Roman, you don’t have to—I mean, Mr. Bliss....”

“Roman.”

A deep flush comes to her cheeks, highlighted by the sunset rays cascading in through the open curtains. “Roman,” she repeats, her voice low. “This room must cost a fortune. There’s no need to toss out a booking—”

“You think of everything, don’t you?” I don’t dare laugh at her. “There was no booking. Or it was my booking. Either way, you don’t need to worry about that. I want you to enjoy this the way a guest would.”

The corner of her mouth curves upward, tugging at something behind my rib cage. “A single guest in this room?” Jenny raises her eyebrows at me, then lifts the camera to her eye and turns away. She snaps a few shots of the table and its immaculate place settings, then leans in to capture the details.

“You won’t be alone.”

It’s a risk to say it out loud. It’s a risk to even suggest it, even put the hint into the air between us. But to hell with tiptoeing around her.

Jenny goes still. “I won’t?”

Hedge. I have to hedge, obscure the want that’s beating hard in my heart. “How could I give you the official tour if I left you up here by yourself?”

She shrugs, flips through the photos on the camera’s screen, not looking at me. “You couldn’t, I guess.”

“That’s right.” Looking at her for this long, in this room, is painful. She changed out of the slacks and blouse she wore at the office today into a black sleeveless dress that verges on sin, the way it hugs her body. I go over to the window so I have a chance to discreetly adjust myself and think of England. “Let me know when you’re done with the first round, and we’ll get started on dinner.”

“You planned dinner?”

“This package comes with a staffed dinner.”