11

Jenny

This is a dream come true.

Sitting across the table from Roman Bliss, the champagne glass cool beneath my fingers, with him looking at me that way? I can’t possibly be awake.

I got him here. I did that. All the years of work, all the binders, all the research…it worked. I can’t believe it.

As giddy as I feel, I can’t shake the creepy feeling that I have misjudged this situation horribly. All the flirting, the way it felt when he touched me—how can I trust myself to know if he’s just playing games with me?

I take another long sip of champagne and set the glass back onto the table. He is playing games with me. That’s what I need to remember. And I’m playing games with him, because I can.

The waiter steps back to the table with the salad course. It’s a simple chicken salad, but everything about it is so fresh and wonderful that I stand up and take a few pictures. Roman seems satisfied with himself.

I take another moment when I sit down to appreciate the chilled bowl. Masterful.

He lets me get through half of it before he leans back in his chair, considering me. “So, Jenny London.” The name still sounds strange coming from his mouth. “What brings you back to Ruby Bay? I think I have one relative in the city—my cousin, Kennedy.” He laughs. “Not that you’d know anything about her. It’s only that I’ve noticed people rarely make their way back here once they make it in New York.”

“Oh, that’s nothing you want to know about.” That’s nothing anyone wants to know about. Me, coming back to my hometown with my tail between my legs? No.

Roman raises his eyebrows. “Don’t I?”

The sincerity in his face makes me laugh. “It’s not—you know, it’s not a date. You don’t have to—”

He leans forward, closing the distance between us. “I don’t have to what? Tell me.” So much authority in two sentences. It makes me sit up straighter.

“You don’t have to pretend to be interested and make conversation with me.” It comes out so casually that I want to give myself an entire row of gold stars and a raise.

“Do you think I’m only pretending to be interested?”

The resonance of his voice catches at a hidden place in my heart, tugging it out into the open, right there in front of him. I take a fortifying swig of champagne, draining the glass. “Does the dinner package come with wine, too?”

Roman waves the waiter back over. “Red or white?”