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Lie With Me Prologue | page 1 | page 2 | page 3 | excerpts
Second thoughts ambushed me stopping me short just as I reached the door to Roman Oliver’s hospital room. It was a hell of a time to be having them, but the momentum that had fueled me to race to St. Jude’s Trauma Center at the crack of dawn was threatening to drain away with the speed of air leaving a pricked balloon. I needed that momentum if I was going to convince Roman to make love with me. Get a grip, Philly. You’ve made your decision, and once you do that, you never backslide. That was certainly true of me when it came to business. Since I’d graduated from college last year I’d already implemented steps in my five year plan to open my pet psychic business. In addition to working part time as a hostess in my family’s restaurant, I also assisted a vet in a local animal hospital, and I’d created my own website. My plan with regard to Roman Oliver was not only more immediate, it was dependent on whether or not he agreed to it. Stop dithering. Angelis women know what they want and how to get it. And you want Roman Oliver. Through the narrow pane of glass in the door, I could see him sitting in the chair next to his bed gazing out the window. Just looking at Roman was enough to make every molecule in my body yearn. Why did I want him? Let me count the ways. The man was incredibly attractive—if you went for a lean raw-boned face, tousled dark hair, a full, firm mouth, and the kind of hard muscled body that ancient sculptors had captured over and over again in bronze and marble. And it wasn’t just his looks that attracted me. There was a quiet sense of determination and purpose about him that pulled at me too. Something fluttered right beneath my heart. Roman Oliver, current CEO of Oliver Enterprises and my brother Kit’s best friend since their freshman year in college, had been causing the “heart flutter” response in me ever since I was sixteen and he’d saved my life while we were sailing. That’s when I’d developed my first big crush on him. It had been a classic case of fantasy love, existing totally in my mind and completely one-sided. After all I was sixteen and he was an older man of twenty-three. But in the past year, my response to Roman had changed—drastically. The dryness in my throat, the thickness in the air, and the heat that flooded my senses whenever I was in his vicinity signaled clearly to me that I was way beyond the crush stage and well into lust territory where Roman was concerned. Still, I might have been able to ignore my body’s responses if I hadn’t become convinced the attraction I felt was reciprocated. I hadn’t been imagining the heated looks Roman was sending my way when he thought I wasn’t looking. And I certainly hadn’t imagined what had happened in his hospital room two days ago. Nearly a week had passed since he’d taken the nearly fatal fall that had put him in St. Jude’s trauma center. He’d been injured at St. Peter’s church while saving his sister Juliana’s life, and it had been three days before he’d fully regained consciousness and three days before the doctors had been able to say with certainty that there’d been no permanent injury to his spine. I’d come to visit him every chance I got. Before that, I’d been shy in Roman’s presence. But having almost lost him had motivated me to change my ways. Then two days ago, I’d been alone in the room with him. He’d been sleeping and because I couldn’t help myself, I’d slipped my hand into his just as I had when he’d been unconscious. I hadn’t even known that he was awake until his fingers had suddenly tightened on mine. Startled, I’d met his eyes, and the heat I’d seen there had more than matched what I’d been feeling during each visit. The sharp flood of desire was something I’d never experienced before. My whole body went into a melt down, and my mind emptied and filled with Roman. “Come here.” His voice was raw, hungry, and there was a question in his tone that I’d answered by sitting down on the bed next to him. He’d moved quickly then, levering himself up and moving his free hand to the back of my neck to draw me even closer until his mouth was only a breath away from mine. Time seemed to slow as everything about him flooded my senses. His eyes were so beautifully dark. Had I noticed that before? And he smelled of soap, simple, basic. Wonderful. I could feel the press of each one of his fingers against the skin at the back of my neck. I’m not sure who moved first, but our mouths made contact. It wasn’t a kiss really—just the gentlest brush of lips against lips. But the pleasure was so intense, the need to have more so huge that when he suddenly dropped his hand and drew back, I wanted to cry out in protest. But before I could make a sound, someone spoke from behind me. “Good morning, Philly. I’m beginning to believe that Roman’s recovery depends on your visits.” Roman’s father. I’d taken a moment to gather my thoughts before I turned to him and managed a smile. I hadn’t slept for two nights as I’d relived those torrid moments and fantasized about what might have happened if we hadn’t been interrupted... Though I’d visited him each day, we hadn’t been alone again. Finally, this morning, I’d reached a decision. It was high time I took action. I wasn’t a sixteen year old with a schoolgirl crush. I was a woman, and I knew what I wanted. Even now, I wanted to go into the room and touch him, to strip him out of that thin hospital gown and run my hands over that smooth skin, those taut muscles— Roman rose suddenly from the chair. Through the slightly opened back of the hospital gown, I caught one glimpse of bare buttocks before I whirled away from the door and pressed my back against the wall. Ruthlessly, I tried to gather my thoughts, and rev up my momentum. I dragged up all the arguments I’d made to myself in the past two days, mentally ticking them off on my fingers. He’d very nearly died. I might have missed my chance of making love with Roman Oliver forever. But the Fates had spared him. The Angelis family has always put a lot of store in the Fates. Surely the fact that Roman was alive was a sign that I should do something. Not for the first time I wished that I’d inherited my Aunt Cass’s power to see into the future. Psychic powers run strong in the Angelis family—especially in the women. But even my three brothers possessed some kind of clairvoyance. Aunt Cass believes that the power can be traced back all the way to the Oracle at Delphi. My psychic ability seems limited to the work I do with animals. I’ve always had a special knack for communicating with them mentally. Some people are skeptical about my psychic connection with animals, but because of the animals I’m able to help at the vet hospital where I work, my reputation is growing more and more solid. Animals I understand. It’s people I don’t always get. So I didn’t have a clue about what would happen when I propositioned Roman Oliver. Nerves knotted in my stomach. A part of me wanted to race right back home. But I was twenty-three; Roman was twenty-nine. What were we waiting for? Drawing in a deep breath, I turned, opened the door of Roman’s room, and walked in. He was back in bed with most of his body discretely covered by the sheet, and he was reading what looked to be some business papers. “Philly.” Glancing up, he sent me a smile. The kind of brotherly smile he’d been giving me for so many years. My stomach sank, but I moved toward the bed. “Am I interrupting?” He glanced down at the stack of papers. “A lot of things have been piling up on my desk, and I bribed my personal assistant to smuggle some work into me.” He met my eyes again. “But I have some time for my most frequent visitor.” For a moment, our eyes merely held, and I thought for an instant I saw a flicker of something. My heart leapt. It’s now or never, Philly. Go for it. “I came here to say...I have something that I want you to know.” I’d prepared a little speech. But every time I’m with Roman, I have difficulty organizing my thoughts. I couldn’t help remembering what had almost happened the last time we were alone in this room. What if I stopped talking? What if I just walked to the bed and pressed my mouth to his? “Yes?” I caught myself twisting my fingers, something I’d stopped doing when I was in junior high. I felt a sudden surge of anger at myself. Why was I still hesitating? “I came here to talk about us and about what happened two days ago just before your father walked in.” For a moment, Roman said nothing, and I could read nothing in his expression. Finally, he said, “Philly, I want you to know that I care a great deal about you, in much the same way that I care for my sisters, Juliana and Sadie.” Pain struck—a hard sucker punch to my gut. I might not have been able to say another word if a surge of temper hadn’t followed. Hands fisted on my hips, I strode toward the bed. “It wasn’t brotherly affection I saw in your eyes two days, and I didn’t imagine your mouth brushing against mine. If your father hadn’t walked into the room, we would have kissed and a whole lot more.” I saw another flicker in his eyes. Of desire? Of pity? For a moment, I couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe. The second slap of pain was too sharp. Too consuming. It pounded into my heart like a fist. But I didn’t have to say anything. Roman was talking. I saw his lips moving, but only caught bits and pieces—something about how he thought of me as family, loved me like a sister. And that he couldn’t lead me on. It was a good thing I’d brought it up so that we could clear the air. And then he apologized. I nearly saw red. I’ve spent most of my twenty-three years learning to control my temper. But this time, I was grateful for it because it helped me deal with the pain. Roman was dead on right about the fact that it was a good thing I’d brought it up. Because now I had my answer—even though it wasn’t the one I’d wanted. Then somehow I made it out of the room. (continued...) |
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