Chapter Twenty-Two

“I promised Bella I’d pick out a desk and a chair,” Jan explained as she led Roman to the furniture section of Office Depot. “Maybe you can help me.”

Roman nodded. “Why today, Jazz?”

Jan glanced at the ten or so desks on display, feeling unequal to the task of choosing one. Worse, having Roman around was driving her crazy. She’d exposed the guy’s deceit and closed the door permanently on any kind of relationship with him, but her libido rebelled against the idea. Whenever she looked at him, she remembered being enfolded in his arms, wriggling in delight at his arousal. Whose behavior was more disgusting, his or hers?

When she answered, she averted her eyes from his, pretending the array of desks held her attention. “I asked Bella over to dinner tonight to celebrate the completion of her ‘interior desecration’ project. She ordered two barrel chairs for the den, delivered today. A desk and chair and we’re done.”

“She works hard, my Bella Coola.”

Idly testing a desk drawer, Jan said, “I was doomed to have an empty house if it hadn’t been for Bella.”

He leaned against a table. “You helped her keep busy. A project was just what she needed.”

“She’s an amazing woman, so optimistic and full of energy at one of the most tragic times in her life. I want to be just like her when I’m seventy,” Jan said as she moved to examine another piece of furniture.

“Don’t beat yourself up, Jazz. You and Bella are quite a bit alike, actually.”

Interesting comment. She had to look at him. Big mistake. Too handsome, especially when he smiled. Peering into a drawer and testing how smoothly it slid in and out, she got ready for a compliment, chiding herself for wanting it. “Really?”

“Yeah. You both see right through me. Clever women.”

He said it lightly with a hint of sarcasm. If only he hadn’t worn the green plaid shirt that matched his eyes and reminded her of the color scheme of the spare bedroom. “Hey,” she said, spying a desk in a wood shade that matched the exposed beams in her den’s ceiling.

Roman joined her at the desk, knocked on the wood and pulled out a drawer to check the way it was constructed. “Bella’s got an advanced degree in cleverness, by virtue of age.”

“Oh?” Jan sank into a high-backed leather chair and pulled herself up to the desk. Too low.

Roman motioned for her to get out of the chair so he could adjust it. As he fiddled with the bottom of the chair, he said, “Who brought up having dinner at your house, Jazz?”

Jan thought a minute. Hadn’t she invited Bella? No. Wait. Bella had mentioned a christening of the new furniture, more specifically, the dining room set. “I guess Bella did.”

“Did she say she was coming alone?” Roman gestured for her to try the chair again.

Jan sat down, dragged herself up to the desk and nodded her head, satisfied with the feel. “She said ‘we.’ I assumed she meant her sister.”

Roman shook his head. “She’s up to her old tricks.”

“Oh?”

“My parents fly in to San Luis Obispo late this afternoon.” He leaned on the edge of her desk, smiling. “If I know Bella, she’s planning to bring them to dinner at your place and provide most of the food, as well.”

“Really? She didn’t say a thing—”

“Probably had it planned for days. She’s crafty.”

Jan put her elbows on the desk and rested her chin in her hands. “She wants us to be more than friends.”

“From the beginning. Remember how she picked up on the nickname?”

Jan kept her head down, her eyes inches from his jeans-clad thigh. “Good Lord.” Claustrophobia, fatigue, and desire scrambled her brain. The idea of calling off the dinner, hurting Bella, wasn’t even an option. She sighed. “We’ll make it work for Bella and your parents. Our issues are minor in comparison to losing Sidney.”

When Roman didn’t say anything, she raised her head to look at him. What was in his eyes? Regret? Yearning? Defeat? He scanned the store as if searching for an answer. “Minor,” he said, without conviction. He cleared his throat. “You like this one?” he asked, his hand on the desk.

“I do.”

“Good taste, Jazz. It’s well made. Handsome. Fine chair, too.” He stood and held out his hand to her. “Let’s order it, get the boxes in the trunk of the car, take ’em home and assemble the chair and the desk in the next hour. After that, we’ve got to get to the airport.”

She rose but held on to his hand. “To pick up your parents.”

“Yup. You’re going with me unless the General is available to stay with you.”

“This is ridiculous. Can’t we end the bodyguard business?”

He squeezed her hand so hard she protested. “Ow! What—?” The expression on his face stopped her. Anger mixed with worry. So intense. “What’s wrong, Roman? What do you know?” She glanced outside the store window, thinking about the men who had scared her father. “Is my Dad in danger?”

Roman eased his grip on her hand, but his hesitation at answering her question made her nervous. She tried to remember where her father might be. “He and Bella are in San Luis Obispo doing last minute stuff for Sidney’s memorial. Shall I call and see if they’re okay?”

With a shake of his head, Roman said, “Until this Barker thing is over with, you and Bella get an escort day and night. My parents can take over the duty with Bella tonight. We’ll send your dad to his apartment with Frank.” Roman squinted at her. “Unless you don’t think we can count on Frank.”

Jan shrugged. “I’ve turned his world upside down, poor guy. He deserves better.”

“You deserve better, Jazz,” Roman said angrily. He seemed ready to say more, but caught himself. “I bunk with you,” he said, his voice softening. He winked at her, but the stiffness of his expression didn’t match his attempt at lightening the mood. “Two more nights, then we each go our own way. Until then, we’re joined at the hip.”

He waggled his eyebrows suggestively, but Jan couldn’t give him the smile he wanted. Roman was conniving in his effort to dig into Cliff Barker’s past. She’d already uncovered two phone calls and two visits to the mayor Roman had kept to himself. What was he up to now?

And how the hell could she have fallen for a guy with a wacky moral compass?

She pulled her hand from his grasp, sure about her desk and chair choice, but doubting herself and him. On one matter, she was clear. When she and the General visited Madeline Barker, Roman didn’t get to come along.

****

“Where the hell is he?” Roman had spent the last half hour in the Nook Motel parking lot waiting for Frank to show up.

A knock on his car window startled him.

Frank, looking puzzled, stood next to Roman’s car door.

Roman stepped out and leaned against the car.

“Is Janny okay?” Frank blurted.

Surprised the man’s response hadn’t been more self-centered, Roman raised his palm. “No worries. Jan’s with the General and Bella at Jan’s house.”

Frank’s face changed. Relief first. Irritation next. “What do you want from me?”

“An explanation would help.”

“Of?”

“Your relationship with the mayor, for starters.”

Showing surprise and a hint of guilt, Frank said, “What mayor?”

“How about Mayor Simpson of Arroyo Grande, your pal?”

The man appeared ready to deny his connection with the mayor, then thought better of it. “I’m a lobbyist for the energy industry. The mayor’s tight with Diablo, the nuke power plant.”

Roman said nothing.

“It’s business. I’m staying out of Janny’s way until she finishes your grandfather’s memorial and the Barker thing on Saturday.”

“How considerate. If you’re trying so hard to look out for Jan’s interests, you might ask the mayor why he’s having Jan followed.”

“What?” Frank said, eyebrows up in surprise.

Damn. He didn’t know. Still, Roman wasn’t going to let Frank off the hook.

“You’ve been feeding the mayor all kinds of information on the Barker memorial. Stuff you’ve gotten from Jan. His Honor has been using every tidbit to keep track of her.” Roman clenched his fists. “I’m busy trying to keep her safe and you’re doing everything you can to put her in danger.”

At first, Frank appeared ready to dispute Roman’s accusation, but with a slouch of his shoulders, he seemed to give in to the idea he might be at fault. “She won’t listen to reason.”

“That’s rich. Someone steals her thumb drive, she’s followed and threatened, and you’re saying Jan’s at fault?”

“She has no business interfering.”

“Really?”

“She’s supposed to plan memorials, not play detective.”

“You’re putting her life in danger because she can’t get her professions straight?”

Frank shrugged. “She’s in over her head.”

Roman grabbed his arm. “No, you are, buddy. You’re morally corrupt, willing to sacrifice a person you supposedly loved for the sake of a goddamn lobby.”

“Love.”

“No way. You’re not worthy enough to tie her shoes.”

“And you are?”

“Hell, no. At least I recognize she’s got scruples and I don’t.”

Frank looked surprised at Roman’s admission.

Dragging his fingers through his hair in frustration, Roman realized the truth of his words. I’m not worthy of her.

“You can let go of my arm, if you don’t mind,” Frank said, sounding beaten. He leaned against the car. “I didn’t know the mayor was having her followed. Should I have assumed he would? Sure.”

Roman caught a glimpse of the intelligent, considerate man Jan had stood by for twelve years. He held out hope Frank would do the right thing by her. “What will you do?”

“I’ll tell him to leave her alone. Probably won’t do any good.” Frank gave him a grim look. “You’ll have to watch over her. Will you?”

“Of course.”

“You won’t be able to stop her from canceling the memorial, I take it,” Frank said, shaking his head.

“When she makes up her mind, you and I are merely gnats in her hurricane.”

Frank smiled ruefully. “She’s changed in the last six months. Must be her mother’s death and the funeral planning business. Who knows? Somehow she got away from me…or I let her.”

Roman’s stomach clenched. He’d done the same thing.

With a look at his watch, Frank said, “I’d better catch the mayor before he leaves his office. You heading to Jan’s?”

“Yeah. My parents are here.”

Frank nodded. “Tell Jan I’ll finish some business and see her Sunday before I fly to Seattle. Will you?”

“Yes.”

Rubbing his forehead, Frank said, “Of course you’re going to snitch about my visit with the mayor.”

“Absolutely.”

Frank squinted at him and nodded as if he’d made up his mind about Roman. “Perfect,” he said, sarcastically. “You’re right. You’re no better than I am.”

****

“Why, Elwood Solvang. You get down from Roman’s lap,” Jan said, astonished at her dog’s bad manners. She prepared to get up from the couch and pull Elwood down, until she saw Roman’s grin.

Roman had latched onto Elwood’s collar so the dog couldn’t follow her orders. He turned to his mother, who sat next to him on Jan’s couch. “See how I’ve charmed Elwood? Once bitten, now loved.” Mocking a sulk, he said, “The dog’s owner is still on the fence about me.”

Jan rolled her eyes, even while she enjoyed the moment. She was entertaining in her new home. They’d christened her dining room table with grilled steaks, tumblers of zinfandel, and pear and walnut salad drenched in blue cheese dressing. Her guests would have lingered at the table to eat dessert and talk, but Jan wanted to try out her double sofa setting. She’d shooed everyone to the couches while the General helped her deliver coffee, bowls of chocolate chip ice cream, and a tray of liqueur glasses, Baileys, Drambuie, and brandy to her giant coffee table.

Jan sat with Bella, her sister, and the General on one sofa with a clear view of Roman, bookended by his parents, Jay and Patricia, on the other couch.

Bella, resplendent in black lounging pants and a caftan in riotous colors and sequins, let the sofa swallow her tiny body, enjoying the moment. She touched Jan’s arm. “I don’t blame you for taking your time, dear. Roman is still a work in progress.”

When Roman’s parents nodded energetically at Bella’s comment, Jan smiled. Summoning a hurt look, Roman said, “Now wait a minute. Where did family loyalty go?” He scratched behind Elwood’s ears. “Only the dog believes in me.”

As if on cue, Elwood licked his hand.

“See?” Roman said, triumphant.

Jan liked watching the dynamics between Roman and his parents as much as she enjoyed assessing which parent Roman favored. He’d put his arm around his mother’s shoulders as many times as he’d punched his dad’s arm playfully. Roman’s shock of dark, thick brown hair came from Patricia, his square jaw from Jay. Laugh from mom. Habit of tipping his head to think-his dad’s. He’d culled handsomeness from both his parents, but the single dimple on his left cheek, visible only when he smiled broadly, was Roman’s alone.

She cast a glance at her father, wondering what Roman and his parents would find similar in her looks and habits with her father’s. For once, the idea they might share features didn’t offend her. In the last month, she’d come to like the man she’d fought with all her life.

As if he’d read her mind, the General delivered a smile with the tot of Cognac he handed her.

“Here’s a toast to Sidney Keller, who’s knocking on St. Peter’s door even while he criticizes the rules of entry.”

Smiles lit up the faces of the Keller family. Jan gestured her father’s direction with her glass, silently thanking him for the toast. “We’re all set for the memorial, guys. Weather’s warm and clear. Speakers say they’re ready.” She nodded meaningfully Roman’s way. “The restaurant’s cooking up a storm while we sit here, lolling.”

Bella set down her bowl of ice cream, sadness taking charge of her expression. “Sidney would love what you’ve done, Jan.” She pointed at Roman. “Including your speeches, my dear.”

Nodding in Jan’s direction, Roman said, “I’ve learned a lot about Sidney these past days.” He took a breath and asked, “Why did he hide his good side from me, Gran?” Jan heard the vulnerability in his voice; in his unguarded expression she read insecurity.

Lifting her arm, Bella appeared fascinated by the way the light played with the colors of her caftan. As if speaking to the fabric, Bella said, “Sidney knew how proudly you guarded your independence. He didn’t want you to feel obligated to him when he decided to mentor you.”

Roman said, “Obligated?”

Jay cleared his throat. “He forbade us to tell you he paid for your first year at UCLA.”

“What?” Roman twisted in his seat to look his father full in the face. Elwood, startled by the movement, jumped off Roman’s lap.

Shrugging, his eyes on the dog, Jay said, “He insisted you go to the best journalism school in the country. We couldn’t afford it the first year. The second year, my salary went up, you earned scholarships and got a job on campus. By then, we could manage the majority of the cost of sending you there. By year three, we didn’t need Sid’s help anymore.”

“You’re kidding,” Roman said, drilling a look at Bella. “Why couldn’t he tell me?”

Bella leaned forward, her hands nestling her coffee cup. “His goal was the same as yours: objectivity. When he critiqued your work, he wanted you to look at his comments without strings attached. That’s also why he didn’t tell you about the accomplished writers he worked with.” She frowned when she set down her cup. “I argued with him about his tactics, but he was stubborn. Had to do it his way.”

“Dammit,” Roman said. “I wish I’d known. I…it doesn’t make sense.”

“What doesn’t make sense?” asked Bella.

“Sidney’s still making me feel like a neophyte, a thankless juvenile. Even from his grave.” When Patricia leaned toward him, ready to protest, he shook his head and rose. Pouring himself a snifter of brandy, Roman walked to the dining area and focused on Jan’s gallery of portraits. He turned on his heel. “I’m embarrassed I never examined Sidney’s life the way I researched the histories of complete strangers. No. Instead, I wrote Sidney off as a pest when he was genuinely trying to help me. Shows you what an ass I am. Sidney was right to critique the snot out of me!”

He looked down for a long moment, as if to find answers in his brandy, then held his glass out to Jan and the General. “I thank you for the dinner, drinks, dessert, coffee, and conversation. If you’ll excuse me, I have some work to do on Sidney’s eulogy.”

Jan watched Roman stride toward her bedroom. She had the urge to take up her drink and follow him. Console him. Help him. Yet, in a way she was glad he’d been forced to eat humble pie. Roman was wrong about Sidney and Senator Johnson; and he’d sneaked behind her back to dig dirt on Cliff Barker. Let him stew in his mistakes.

Elwood’s whine caught her attention. The dog peered up at Jan, seeming to ask what he should do next. Jan smiled and jerked her thumb Roman’s way, sending Elwood clattering to the bedroom hall. When the dog took a turn too quickly, his toenails useless on the slick floor, he slid sideways. Once he’d righted himself, he dove after Roman.

The dog’s antics made them all laugh and gave Jan the opening she was looking for. “Better check on those two,” she said. “I’ve never left them in a room together before.” She mocked a grimace which got the group laughing again.

“Roman?” she asked, knocking on the half open door. “You okay with the dog in here?”

He stood by his folded table, a wad of papers in his hand and a grim look on his face. At the mention of Elwood, he blinked and searched the room, unaware the dog had joined him. When he saw the Scottie sitting next to his bed, tail wagging, he gave her a thin smile. “He’s fine.”

His voice echoed in the cold, almost empty room. Jan touched his arm, wanting to commiserate, but he shook his head and barely smiled when he said, “Your guests are more deserving of your time than I am, Jan.”

“Anything I can do to help?”

“As you just heard, I’ve chosen a lifetime of going it on my own. On this task, I’d better stick with my old way of doing things.”

“Fair enough,” she said, hugging herself so she wouldn’t embrace him. “I’ll tend to our guests while you finish up the eulogy.”

She closed the door slowly and paused a moment in the hallway to survey her transformed living and dining area. Now filled with furniture, lamps, tables, and area rugs, and peopled with chatting guests, these rooms should feel warm and complete. Yet, without Roman’s presence among her guests, both literally and figuratively, the house felt empty.

****

Roman floated on his rubber bed, aware he had too thin a cushion of air between his body and the hardwood floor. He knew he should pump more air into the bloody thing, but he didn’t have the energy or the desire for the task.

What he wanted was to make love to Jazz.

He’d spent hours digesting e-mails his grandfather had sent him over the years, e-mails he’d kept in a computer file but never read carefully until tonight. Why had he kept them? Did his subconscious somehow understand he’d be ready to read the criticism some day?

After throwing away his old eulogy about Sid, he’d used up another two hours drafting a new speech.

While he worked, he’d heard his parents and Bella leave, followed closely by sounds of the General and Jan cleaning up. Later Elwood begged to get out of Roman’s bedroom. When he’d freed the dog, he heard the General say Frank was parked outside, ready to take him home. Roman strained to hear Frank’s voice, but the silence following Jan’s goodbye to her father meant Frank hadn’t come in the house. Good.

But he lacked the nerve to go talk to her after throwing her out of his bedroom, too embarrassed about his poor judgment to let her help him. Maybe by morning, he’d be able to look her in the eye and explain his boorish behavior.

He guessed she might like what he’d drafted for Sidney’s eulogy, but he still had a few hours of fine-tuning to do when he was fresh in the morning.

If he could get some sleep.

He turned over in his bed, his hipbone cracking against the floor. “Ouch.”

Throwing off the cover of his sleeping bag, he pushed himself to his knees, ground them into the floor and got up.

Maybe he’d read the eulogy one more time and pump up his bed.

After some ice water.

He slipped on jeans and walked to the kitchen. Grabbing a glass, he pushed the ice release by hand, hoping to make the least noise possible. Nothing came out of the ice chute. He pushed harder with his finger, his hand cradled for catching.

Nothing.

He pushed again.

The crystals tumbled out, crashing to the floor.

“Shit.”

Elwood tore into the kitchen, barking.

“Double shit.”

“No worries, Elly. I’ve got things under control.” He bent over to pick up the ice shards, a process made slower because he was trying not to make noise. He lowered handfuls of ice gently into the sink while the dog went to work licking up water from the floor.

“Roman?”

She stood in the hallway, one hand propped against the wall while the other shaded her eyes from the kitchen light.

Here she was, warm and fresh from slumber. He had to touch her, hold her. The urge to feel fully a man delivered him to her side before he could think through his actions. Hurriedly, he wiped his wet hands on his jeans and gathered her into his arms. He held her, conscious he was giving her time to wake up as well as to shake off how his noises had startled her.

“Sorry,” he said. “I was getting ice water when the ice got stuck. And unstuck.”

When he felt a nod against his chest and her arms tighten around his waist, he leaned in to rub her shoulders, savoring the feel of her breasts against his chest and wondering what she had on under the robe.

As they began to breathe in unison, Elwood grumbled and trotted away.

Was she sleepy or aroused? His brain had no clue, but his dick urged the latter.

“Are you still working, Roman? On the eulogy?” she said to his neck.

He peered at her face, trying to figure out her mood and his next move. “I’ve got a new draft going.”

“Good.” She gazed at him drowsily, her brown eyes almost black in the dim light. Bedroom eyes. She gave him a kiss on the cheek, probably to reinforce her compliment then shifted in the direction of her bedroom.

I can’t let her get away from me. Not this time.

“I better escort you, Jazz. You seem a little shaky…from the noise of my avalanche, I mean.”

She gave him the eyebrow, but let him walk her to the bedroom, his arm snugged around her waist. They came to a stop at the bed, where Roman eyed the cast-aside duvet and sheets. Inviting. Room enough for two.

Was she thinking the same thing? She’d gone quiet beside him, making him wonder. Jan knew how her quiescence turned him on. But she was angry at him, upset with any number of intrusions and violations of privacy he’d committed. He was afraid to look at her face and see irritation instead of need.

Shit. How much longer could he stand next to her with the hard-on of the century, afraid to look at her? “I’ve been researching Syncope,” he blurted.

He felt her turn to look at him.

“You are full of surprises, Roman.” She leaned forward and pushed a pillow against the headboard, then crawled in and reclined against it, knees up, arms clasped around them. “Sit down and tell me what you’ve learned.”

Her action surprised him so much he stopped breathing and stared at her. God, she was beautiful sitting there waiting for him to speak, smiling, open-faced and eager. A dazzling, sexy blonde. He sat as close to her as he could and grasped her ankle for an anchor, a connection, however fragile. The hem of her robe came to her knees, leaving her legs exposed to him. At the thought of moving the robe aside so he could touch the silky skin beneath it, his heart pounded so hard he could feel the vibration in his ears. “Jazz,” he said quietly as he moved his hand up her calf.

“Yes,” she said, only a hint of a question in her voice, eyes widening at his touch.

“When you don’t move, I get to look at you. You are beautiful, Jazz.”

She nodded at the compliment. “But not perfect because of Syncope, which is why you’re zeroing in on it.”

“No, I looked into the disease so I could understand you better.” He encircled both her calves and leaned to place his chin on her knees. “Scrutiny isn’t always a negative act.”

She shrugged but he caught a hint of a smile. “I agree. So you have questions for me about Syncope?”

“One. What happens when you faint? During the faint?”

She exhaled and gazed at him as if to assess his integrity. The sadness in her expression worried him so much that he went to her side, gently moved her over and gathered her in his arms. “Hey, Jazz. I don’t mean to cause you pain.”

With a head shake and a deep-drawn breath, she seemed to tame her emotions. Roman held her tight, stroking her back while he waited, breathing in her perfume and thinking about how important it had become for him to make her happy.

“I’m out for only a couple of minutes, as you know.”

He nodded.

“But I’m not really ‘out.’”

“Oh?”

“I have a lot going on in my dreams for such a little time span. It’s like fast-forward on the DVD. Whole stories with sound and color sometimes. The last two faints, I heard children crying, what felt like an hour of children crying.”

“That’s awful.”

“I often hear people talking, even if I can’t make out the words. Oddly enough, usually there are more people talking in my dream than there are in the place I’ve fainted, if people are around when it happens, that is.”

Roman tugged her closer until they were chest to chest and she straddled him.

“The time I collapsed in front of you?” she whispered.

“Yes?”

She gazed at him intently. “You kept talking to me.”

Roman hitched a shoulder. “I was nervous. I didn’t know what to do, and touching you seemed wrong, but I had to find out if you were breathing, so I…”

She put a finger to his lips. “You were kind to me, Roman. But more important, you talked.” She pulled a worried look. “If people don’t talk, I think I’ve died.”

****

“Oh, Jazz,” he said, sorrow thickening his words.

She buried her face in his neck, her emotions too raw to face the empathy in his green eyes. I will not cry over this, dammit. She’d never told anyone about the content of her faint dreams and now Roman had pulled yet another secret out of her. God, he was smooth. And God, she was confused. The feel of his hand caressing her calves had her tingling with desire.

“When I faint, I’d rather dream of you, Roman. And where your hands are right now. And where they might drift, if I’m lucky.”

Roman laughed. “That’s my girl,” he said, then trailed his hands from her calves to the inside of her thighs.

At the lust she saw swimming in his emerald eyes, her center took up a steady pulse. “Go higher,” she wanted to growl. “Please,” she was willing to beg. Here she was, astride him, her body just above his. All she had to do was lower herself to his jeans, rub against him and get the relief she needed. Deserved. Must have.

When she felt her legs begin to vibrate with the tension of not growling and not begging and not lowering herself down to his jeans, a wave of embarrassment hit her. Six months without sex was what this was. Hell, the guy knew everything about her; why hide how he turned her on?

Her skin touched denim.

Roman sucked in air at her move. “Jazz?”

“I want you, Roman.”

“You sure?”

She smiled at the hope in his voice. Or was he begging, too? Even before she answered, his hands were on her breasts, teasing her. She hissed a “Yes,” exultant to see him breathing hard, barely able to control his fingers at the new task of opening her robe. She leaned over so he could push the robe off her shoulders and stayed in that position while he stroked her breasts. Raising herself a bit, she got busy with his jeans, releasing the button.

“Jazz,” he groaned before he grabbed her hands. “Let me…”

“I’ll help,” she said, sliding her fingers down the sides of his jeans while she watched his eyes, enjoying how the green deepened and his jaw tightened as her hands worked their way to the zipper.

“Jazz,” he repeated before he kissed her. She smiled inside the kiss, pleased when her fingers found the treasure they sought. She returned the kiss, matching his intensity, a slow grind of lips against lips, exploring, teasing, nipping. He murmured about protection and she answered, “I’m good,” then allowed him to roll her so they were side to side and he could remove his jeans. She liked that he was awkward with the task, too turned on to get the damn things off efficiently. While he twisted and turned and swore under his breath, she laughed. Roman might be a smooth talker, but he matched her awkward eagerness at sex. Good.

She kissed him when he got the job done, a reward. In silence they gazed at each other’s bodies, punctuated by eye contact, smiles. “Jazz, I tried to find out if Syncope plays out during the sex act.”

She laughed. “Well, you are thorough, aren’t you?”

After a gentle kiss, he said, “It’s my job.”

“Sounds like premeditation to me.”

He smiled. “I’ve wanted to make love to you since the first day we met.” When he traced his fingers around her breast, he said, “Jesus, that halter top.”

A memory of her thrill at his interest in her body that day sent off a shiver of need. She put a hand on his chest and inched it slowly down, down, down, stopping to anchor her fingers in his pubic hair before she looked into his eyes. “I faint when I’m startled or frightened, Rome.” Drawing her finger up his shaft, smiling when she felt the vibration of need there, so much like the tension zinging throughout her body, she said, “There is definitely nothing frightening about this. But I’m seriously beginning to think that deprivation might make me faint.”

Roman laughed out loud as he inched his fingers up her thigh. “We won’t let that happen, Jazz.”

“Oh, good.” She moved closer to him, their noses inches apart. “I probably look like the Mrs. of Mr. and Mrs. Smith.”

“Hmm?”

“You know, the movie about the married agents who are supposed to kill each other. They made up after they brawled.”

Eyebrows furrowed, he said, “I’d never hurt—”

With her eyes averted from his, she kissed the rest of his words away. Now wasn’t the time to talk about who might be hurting who. Capturing his hand between her thighs, she said, “Turmoil is titillating, Rome. I’m just saying we’re going to have great sex.”

Opening her legs to him, and inching her torso closer to his brought his hand to her center and the head of his shaft to her abdomen. She gasped.

They kissed desperately, all lips and teeth and tongues, testing, tasting and taunting each other while the heat from their bodies enveloped them.

Roman pulled his hand from between her legs. “No,” she said, grief stricken.

“I’ll be back,” he said grinning. “But I need two hands for my next move.” Encircling her breasts he thumbed her nipples. “I’ve waited a lifetime to do this. You have the most beautiful body, Jazz.”

She closed her eyes, and while he attended to her breasts, she caressed the smooth skin under his arm all the way to his butt and up his back, amazed at the contrast of muscle and softness, hard and smooth, strong but vulnerable.

Now, with eyes open, she gazed into his, catching a furrowing of his brow. “What, Roman?”

“Um. I…uh…would you mind if we condensed our lovemaking this first time around?”

She smiled and trailed her hand down his chest to his pubic hair. “Ready, are we?”

He drew in a ragged breath at the same time he tested her wetness. “You too, baby?”

“Ah. Almost. Close.” She arched toward his hand, as he performed magic with his fingers. In seconds she came, her world pleasantly shattered, but consumed by a desperation to have him inside her.

“Please,” she begged, opening her legs to him. He rose to his knees, straddled her torso and bent to kiss her on the lips then on each breast.

“You are perfect,” he said as he eased into her. “We are perfect.”

She gasped when he filled her, a sweet pain, a yearning satisfied. “We are. You are.” She smiled. “My Roman holiday.”

He winced and growled. “It might be a short vacation, especially if you keep moving.”

Laughing, she arched toward him and said, “You promised a longer one later.”

“I did.” He kissed her hard, said, “Tighten your seatbelt, Jazz,” and took her to the moon.

****

He watched her sleep, a gift he’d grabbed secretly nights before, but one he could indulge in openly now. Up close and unmoving she was a still life he wanted to memorize and memorialize. The tiny smallpox scar above her right eye, full lips, perfectly oval face, eyebrows darker than her bright blond hair, arched even in repose. Her breasts fascinated him, the darkness of her nipples set against creamy skin…

An eye opened. “I hear loud thoughts.”

“I like to observe you at rest, Jazz. You’re prettier every time I look at you. Seriously.”

She grinned. “Are you angling for a longer vacation already?”

With a laugh, he said, “I’m that obvious, huh?”

“On the first day I met you, I saw lust in your eyes. I was pretty sure it was bloodlust…for the story, but now I’m thinking a portion of it is mine. About me.”

“Day one. Can’t explain it logically. You had me at the halter.” He caressed the swell of her breasts.

“Um.”

“I should finish writing the speech, Jazz. It’s two a.m. But I don’t want to go. To leave you.”

She traced her fingers along his hairline and over his eyebrows.

“Wouldn’t mind a little help with the speech.”

She cocked an eyebrow, surprised. “Really? I thought you preferred to work alone at this stage of your writing.”

With a wag of his head, he said, “Look how well that strategy’s worked for me.” Roman pulled the covers over them. “Want to hear my dilemma?”

She propped her head up, elbow on her pillow. “Lay it on me.”

“Actually, I have a little bit of history for you followed by my dilemmas. History first.”

She nodded.

“I’ve thought a lot about what I said to you last night in my room, after I threw the tantrum in front of you and my family. The thing about going it alone, like I’ve always done.”

“Yes.”

“When I was a kid in school, I was a very poor speller.”

Jan leaned forward.

“For some reason, maybe because so many of my teachers liked spelling bees and spelling tests and whatnot, I stood out as the worst speller in class. All the way through ninth grade, my friends kidded me and my enemies bullied me about my spelling. And because those tests make up a big part of a kid’s grades, I didn’t do that well in school.” At the memory of the humiliation and whittled-away self-esteem, Roman felt his face heat with embarrassment. He cleared his throat. “I thought I was the dumbest kid on the West Coast.”

When Jan began to say something, Roman held up his hand. He wasn’t looking for pity. “A good ending is coming. An English teacher I liked in ninth grade took me aside one day and asked me what kind of career I wanted for myself. When I told her of my dream to be a writer, thank God she didn’t laugh. Instead, she said, “Roman, your spelling mistakes are not a sign of lack of intelligence. You happen to be a phonetic speller. You apply logic to spelling when so many English words defy rules.”

Jan nodded. “I like this teacher.”

“She saved my life, Jazz. My self-esteem, my hopes and dreams for the future, all of it.”

“She taught you how to use spell-check?”

Roman laughed. “This was way before spell-check. No, she was tough on me. She said if I wanted to be a writer, I’d have to look up every other word and memorize how words were spelled. So I did. And yes, spell-check is my friend these days, too.”

“And this relates to…?”

“I learned back then that I’m on my own. If I have a problem, I have to solve it myself, ignoring all the critics who relish taking me down by calling me incompetent.”

“So that’s why you refused help from Sidney and others?”

“Partly. Add a dash of independence, arrogance, and self-righteousness.”

Jan put her hand on his chest. “And why your grandfather didn’t tell you about paying your way to college. Which brings us to this second look at Sidney’s e-mails.”

“Last night I read over every single e-mail Sid sent me in the last ten years.”

“Okay,” she said, seeming to dismiss the importance of his action.

“No, this is big. I never read his e-mails carefully before tonight.”

“Really? You skimmed them?”

“Exactly.” He waved his hand. “Anyway, after wading through each e-mail, I still can’t figure out how my grandfather influenced my work, if he did at all. He’d lambaste me about my documentaries after he’d seen them on TV. I never rewrote a script once he’d criticized it.”

Eyebrows knit, Jan said. “Sounds like you did read the e-mails as they came in.”

Roman lowered his eyes. “I skimmed them, only to get the gist, make sure Bella was fine, their house hadn’t burned down. You know.”

“Hard not to read parts of them, at least. But you saved and re-read all of them last night?”

“Right.”

“Yet you’d still say Sidney didn’t influence your work. In fact, you’re convinced he liked nothing about your documentaries.”

“Correct.”

She squinted at him. “He continued to critique your scripts?”

Roman considered the timing of his grandfather’s letters and e-mails. “If anything, his diatribes increased in number and length over the years.”

“Proving he cared more.”

“Or presumed my work was tanking.”

Jan nodded, then leaned over to kiss him on the nose. “Let’s stay positive, okay?”

“I’ll try,” he said, his mind drifting to the feel of the skin inside her thigh.

She tapped his chest. “Given his ginned up criticism, did you write more or less?”

“More.”

“Proving he pushed you instead of discouraged you. Were your subjects more or less challenging?”

He thought for a moment. Roman had picked Rumsfeld and Cheney, even though his producer had warned him there was nothing new to report on the men. Roman had dug deeper into the two men’s lives than any other writer, surprising himself, the producer, and the viewers. So much so that he’d won an Emmy for one of them.

“More challenging,” he admitted.

“I’m sure Sidney saw that.”

Giving her the eyebrow, Roman said, “He must have sent ten pages of criticism on the Rumsfeld and Cheney documentaries. Maddest he’s ever been about my work.”

Jan traced her fingernail around his nipple. “Roman?”

“Huh,” he said, forgetting for a moment what they were talking about. “Oh, yeah. Spitting mad, Sid was.” He pushed the sheet back, thinking he had to examine her belly button. Screw Sidney’s harangues.

She held his chin in her hand. “Think hard, Roman. What didn’t he comment on? What part of your work did Sidney leave unscrutinized?”

He blinked at Jan’s insight. “Good one. Off the top of my head, I’d say Sid critiqued me in every area of my writing, but let me think about it.”

He listed Sidney’s favorite targets. “He questioned my choice of subjects, organization, balance, and perspective. Always zinged me on research.”

Jan gave him a look, showing she was impatient he was avoiding the real answer.

He reached over to ease the arch out of her eyebrow.

“Roman,” she warned. “Answer the question.”

With his hands behind his head, he stretched, easing the tension out of his body, and letting her see that he was ready to make love to her again.

Her eyes widened at the sight of his arousal, but she stayed on point. “Sidney.”

Roman closed his eyes and visualized the e-mail, struggling to read something positive between Sidney’s lines. “He never once took me to task about my pacing, visuals, sound effects, or music.”

When Roman looked to Jan for approval, he was disappointed. Where was her smile and “good job”?

“Go on. What else?”

Roman covered his eyes and willed his brain to work harder on Jan’s question. He thought about his strengths as a writer. Was there any area Sidney hadn’t trammeled? “Well, what do you know? Sid never criticized my wording, per se, my syntax, choice of words, paragraph structure, and so on. Never once pointed out a spelling problem.” Roman rubbed his eyebrows, thinking. “I’ve improved a ton over the years, mind you. I look at my prose in the early documentaries and wince. But he never said a thing about it, even back then. Amazing.”

The crowning touches on Sidney’s eulogy appeared to Roman so clearly and fully, he had to smile. “Thanks. I needed that.”

Jan waved her hand, dismissing his praise. “You were there already. Just needed a push off the fence.”

“A push is everything,” he said, turning toward her and reaching for her thigh. “Now, about that long vacation I was telling you about?”

Sly smile. “I thought we needed to save up for the next holiday. And what about rewriting the eulogy?”

He tapped his head. “It’s up here fully formed.” A sheepish grin. “Same with down there.”

She wiggled close to him so she could feel him. “So it is.”

He bent to kiss her breast. “I missed so much on our first vacation, Jazz.” He wagged his head and exaggerated a worried expression. “I overlooked your belly button, for one thing. So many nooks and crannies still to explore.”

“Um,” she noted as he trailed kisses down her stomach. She arched toward him when he tongued her belly button, and opened her legs to suggest another side trip.

“Jazz.” He altered his course, kissing her hard on the lips before he threw the covers to the floor and accepted her invitation. He’d touched her thighs and her core; now he was determined to explore them with his tongue and kisses. Would she let him? Would she like it?

“Yes,” she said, guessing his intention. A fervent yes. “Please,” she added followed by her plunging her fingers in his hair and opening her legs wider.

“Vista point,” he said. “I’m staying here for awhile, honey. Get ready.”

She grabbed clumps of his hair as he licked and kissed her inner thighs, traveling slowly to her center. He smiled when he felt the vibration in her legs, telegraphing her need. I did that. I’m making her happy.

“Roman?” she asked pushing his head down ever so slightly.

And he obliged, his arms propping her legs as he settled into exploring her center with his lips and his tongue, her musk enveloping him on his journey. She trembled even as she moved her body closer to his lips. “Roman,” she gasped when he found her nub and brought her to climax. “God, Roman!”

He rested his head on her belly, hearing the rapid beat of her heart and feeling the up and down motion of her heavy breathing. Her gentle, but insistent tug on his hair made him smile. He wanted to be inside of her in the worst way, but this roadside stop was one to savor, to take a moment to relish. Funny how he felt like he’d climbed Mt. Everest for her. Presented her with the Hope diamond. Built the Taj Mahal in her honor.

He kissed his way up her torso and finished with a torrid kiss on her lips. Without any effort at all, in the most natural and easy way imaginable, he slipped inside her and brought them both to climax within seconds. When they fell into each other’s arms, tightly entwined, Roman had the sense he’d never felt so at ease making love to a woman. Before he fell asleep, he whispered in her ear, “Best vacation ever, Jazz.”