Love Found Me (A City Love Novel, Book 1) (3 page)

"Ready?" he asked.

She nodded, fighting back a smile.

Roman keyed the elevator for the twentieth-floor penthouse as she stood in awe of his towering six-foot four physique, which dwindled hers to a life-sized Barbie.

Her voluminous curls sprung to life and flowed the bosom of her opalescence, as Roman stood with one hand in his pocket with the other sprawled against the wall scrolling her from head to toe. In the slotted burst of sunlight, her hair looked like silken chestnut in his eyes.

Doing his best not to stare at the valley of her low-cut sweater knit, he could've sworn she'd rival any supermodel. Not the kind that starve themselves to be a size zero.

"So, ah...I guess you have the guys standing in line to go out with you." He paused, his gaze shadowing his brazen attempt to make conversation.

He watched intensely as her moist lips painted a delicious shade of honey raspberry and were slightly parted when she mouthed, "Umm."

She was a vision in pearled ivory--a graceful snow queen--a sumptuous whipped cream vanilla sundae. Beautifully mesmerizing in her glittery pashmina, infusing her luscious locks the intoxicating fragrance of rose violet.

Danielle combed her fingers through her hair, and she didn't seem at all disconcerted to discover him looking back at her. Instinctively, she creased a weak smile at him, and her expression shifted from furtive to serious.

She swallowed, trying not to be defensive as she ran her hands through her hair, "Well, not really." Clearing her throat, she said, "Ah, well you could say I'm...ah--" The elevator arrived in the knick of time before she stuttered something she couldn't take back.

"Okay. Thanks for--" Danielle said, as she straightened.

He laid a hand on her arm. "Wait. It doesn't have to be over. We just met, don't you want to invite me in for drinks or something?"

"I'm sorry, but I'm still a little rattled from earlier. I'm not in the mood--" She drooped her head and peered up from beneath her lashes. "I just don't think I'd be great company right now. Maybe tomorrow or another time."

Her suddenly nerveless hand lost its grip on the keys she'd scooped from the pit of her black alligator handbag. Her keys clanged the marble and flew to the tip of her matching stiletto boots.

As Roman knelt down, she glanced over him for several intense seconds at his lush thick hair. She could almost imagine running her hands all through it.
Now's not the time. Snap out of it.
She mumbled under her breath as he rose to hand her the keys.

"Oh. My. God." She blared syllabically.

Three words couldn't describe the chaos that up heaved the episode from earlier. The elevator staggered open into the apartment. She'd almost tripped coming in, as the Persian rug caught her five-inch heel. Danielle cupped her hand over her mouth as her eyes quickly widened. Her boots crunched a zigzagged pace through the mess of rubble as she drew a long sigh.

Lampshades tousled. Drawers of papers led a flurried trail like miniature snowflakes dwarfed in a fourteen-foot haven of luxury. Jaguar-green lacquer, bamboo, and textured glass fragmented the floor-to-ceiling palladium windows edge, and trickled marble floors toward the second tier terrace balcony with chards of daggered glass.

Broken china and teeny mosaic antique remnants highlighted the broken glass and tea sets. Chippendale laid awash Brazilian rosewood in the library niche, and brocade linens tethered the fireplace yielding nineteenth-century bricks imported from France.

Her eyes tearing up, "Not the eighteenth century." She puzzled together two porcelain fragments. "This had been in my family for years." Danielle knelt to the chintz pillow at the edge of the sofa, clutching a handful of pieces from an ornamental statue.

She scowled, "Those bastards! Whoever did this--" Her eyes roved the onslaught of devastation that swept the living room and whisked past the kitchen toward the hall and bedrooms.

Living on the top floor of the building, a colossal wall of windows flanked the entire penthouse--with one hundred eighty degrees of sun suckling terraced living space. The heady skyline enfolded a lucent solarium of delicate silky brocades, gorgeous mosaic inlays, and feathery pillows glittering against the luster of opal leather.

It was a cozy haven suited for a woman of finessed urbane charm. It was immense, for a single woman living alone. A ceaseless silence dwelled many solo nights by virtue, not by choice.

Danielle sobbed softly as Roman said, "The important thing is that you're okay."

"You're right," she said, sounding reposed. "I'm fine...I'll be fine," she added.

He scooped her up in his arms insisting, "You shouldn't stay here tonight. Whoever these guys are, they're serious."

"But, I shouldn't be run away from my own home," she contested.

"Yeah. I know, but who's gonna protect you if--"

"Don't say it. Okay you win. Let me just grab a few things."

"No, first let me check out the place to make sure it's safe. You stay here."

Danielle was beginning to like the dominant type. She was beginning to see the torque measuring him like his sports car that was heating her engine inside.

After inspecting the penthouse, Roman stepped out onto the terrace balcony huddling inside his jacket as he looked around. Trees and shrubs were leafless. Silvery jades and bronzes thrived in the rooftop garden. Conditions were bleak and chilly, moderated in full force for a winter in New York City.

"So why is someone after you?" he gently asked, as he stepped from the terrace.

She simply shrugged, "I don't know." Her cheeks smoldered a modest scarlet when she affirmed, "They're gonna pay." Danielle shaded her eyes from the burst of light as she murmured in echo. "They're gonna pay for this."

The one person who might have been a clue was just a silhouette behind tinted glass. She hadn't time to get the license plates when it had all happened so fast. The episode she experienced had rendered her frantic but not hopeless.

The emptiness was overwhelming. She drew a small breath, as she flung her hands to her hips and drooped her head, reminding herself that this was only the beginning. Seconds later, she feathered her hand through her hair, sounding quite serious.

Danielle asked with a long sigh, "Now what?" 

Roman paused, as he looked straight at her and said, "We’ll go to my apartment."

Chapter Two

The last time Danielle could remember being so enraged was when her ex called off their engagement. Even recalling that moment made Danielle clench her stomach. But, knowing she was about to walk into what could quite possibly become what she nor her unsteady heart was prepared for, was that same tenacity that had her overcome a strangling fear to rise the ladder in New York City.

There was that uneasy sense that this guy was no greater man than the men she knew before. And Danielle's heart had suffered more than enough pain that she couldn't bare to succumb the sacrifice to love again. But even so, she wanted to hear, "I love you." She craved three little words that meant the world to a woman that had brushed loneliness face-to-face.

Danielle's eyes widened in sync with the long span of silence when Roman said,
Make yourself at home
. She'd stopped short of moving any closer beyond the foyer. Roman repeated the sentiment, his warmth breath ruffling every hair at the nape of her neck with his deep husky voice as he rolled her coat off her shoulders.

The sun was already blaring from one far corner of the apartment, making a chilly Sunday in February feel more like late April.  

"Just relax," he insisted, as he ladled her valise on the sofa edge. He grabbed her hand, gently lifting her arm as he guided her toward the leather sofa.

How could she relax when it felt like all of New York could see her backbone shifting into some other woman-- a woman other than the one who'd shunned men that broke her heart.

"Comfortable? Can I get you anything? Juice, wine..." he asked softly.

Danielle fell back onto the tufted leather, aiming to let loose every tense muscle wiggling its way out of her when she whispered, "Merlot?"

Danielle's soft words hinted as if she hadn't known a man this charming would have been prepared for the occasion. Wine aside; all she could think about was some relief to her tender toes after the day's events led her around the Upper East Side in stilettos.

Danielle drew a long breath as she loosened her anklet straps and kicked her alligator boots to the foot of the side table. She was startled to discover more of the man behind the sexy mystique, when she sprawled her arm on the armrest, and mashed deeper into the plush leather. It was warm when she rolled against it, like smooth and succulent melted caramel from the rays of sunset flooding back toward the open expanse of walled windows.

The earthy scent infused her flesh, as she caressed the smooth toffee leather with vigor. Danielle was relieved and relaxed the more her palms rubbed the imported texture, reminding her of the comforts of home, and that he obviously was a man of refined tastes and culture.

As she cocked her head against the pillow back, her eyes panned the circumference of the apartment. It was urban chic with a hint of nautical and several touches of youth masculinity. Every inch of the space emanated calm that was steadily sucking worry straight out of her bones.

Despite the immense size of his loft apartment, the place was packed with worldly antiques, high-tech gadgets and electronics--a true gamer paradise. Classic movie posters trailed the walls along with towering cubbyhole niches filled with rock memorabilia, autographed guitars and signed paper napkins cased above granite pedestals.

Roman trailed the conversation from the granite island as he grabbed a bottle of merlot chilling in his wine fridge.

I hope she doesn't get the wrong idea about the wine
, he said to himself, as he ducked into the alcove bachelor kitchen. But what he didn't know was that she yearned the bitter grapes almost as much as he did. She couldn't wait for the earthy surge to course through her veins as quickly as possible.

Instinctively, she swept her hair from her back, as it naturally sprinted a luscious silken waterfall. The ambience pushed her into an aroused stimulation, into a brief, eyes-wide-open kind of ethereal fantasy as she pushed a hand through her long dark curls, totally amazed.

"Chic contemporary," he smiled, as he hurried back to grab a couple glasses near the vestibule showcasing some of his finest and rarest selections. Cautiously, he popped the cork on a vintage bottle he'd tucked away for special occasions. But any day with a beautiful woman was an occasion for the rarest of bottles.

Danielle shaded her eyes for a moment, as she spun her head in awe of the panorama aesthetics surrounding her. Her eyes scaled every kinky blend of mirrors and shimmering opulence. Every layered texture of ivory silk, shantung, linen and coffee leather anchoring rare and delicate artistic framed masterpieces. Tapered sky-high chocolate drapes illuminated stunning nautical bric-a-bracs, and remarkable tales of a world traveler's vision.

"Roman, I see you're quite the man of mystery," she gestured, as her eyes traveled around the room. Danielle went on, "Who knew all this was the man behind the canary Lamborghini."

His hair glowed a light hazel, as his broad shoulders swung around the maze of furniture. With a mental shrug, his eyes were wide, and his mouth hollowed open before he said, "Oh, not really."

By the time he'd uncorked the bottle in mid-step, she'd managed to straddle the length of one side of the long L-shaped sectional. Roman slipped around her shoulder with a cheeky grin, as he sidestepped an accent lamp to hover over the sofa with any excuse to get close to her.

He was close enough that he'd caught scent of her perfume, another reminder of tempting him,
How am I ever gonna resist this?
When he stared down at her, instantly his features moved into a dimpled arousal. Lavender whisked a field of flowers through his senses just before he slid the glasses to the table, "I'm not trying to get you loose or anything."

"Careful," he said, handing her a glass as her hair sprung off the leather.

Roman moved to the other end of the sectional opposite Danielle. She was too relaxed to notice his eyes had snapped a double take of her slender legs poised at just the right angle inching her skirt above her thigh. In that instant, his heart quaked at her bronze glowing at the close of evening. It wasn't the fading light raying his eyes that nearly missed his foot colliding with the sofa.

"Hmm ... Very good year," she straightened, as she took a sip.

"What better way to start the evening." Roman replied, as his six-foot frame swallowed the toffee leather as he sprawled against it. Roman suddenly moved over toward her with his glass, sliding close with enough personal space still between them.

Swirling his glass, he paused and then stretched out his fluted hand. Suddenly he'd felt there was cause to revel in something other than a late night party. Their quiet evening for two would lead to his kindly gesture, "Let's toast to--" Roman tipped his glass to hers. "To us."
Clang.
"To new friends."

Danielle didn't want him to see disappointment stamped across her face when she'd muttered a soft sigh,
Friends. Just friends
.

Her words trailed into smoke, the moment their glasses clanged again. She took in a deep breath, wanting to forget everything about the toast that was making her rethink the reason for ever agreeing to take up his offer when clearly he hadn't seen the relationship as anything other than "friends" in her eyes.

"Your place is really nice. Cozy. Reminds me of a trip I took to the Mediterranean once."

Roman pressed back onto the cushion. Captivated, he asked, "Oh, are you a consummate traveler?"

"Not really. I'd traveled a bit before I'd gotten so entrenched in my career. Actually, I hardly ever go anywhere except maybe MoMA, Guggenheim, Folk Art...I'm into that sort of thing. Impressionism. I'm an art buff... y’know what I’m saying an art enthusiast."

"You know..." Roman's eyes widened as he'd shifted on the sofa. "I know a thing or two about--" He nodded toward the huge Degas and Manet anchoring the fireplace.

The works of art just popped off their canvases. Remarkable, rich and vibrant colors brought the elements of light and perspective straight into the living room. Fascinating shadows captured ordinary realism and movement--bringing a fresh and soulful vibe to a man that had always known how to lighten up and have a good time.

"I noticed," she added. "This must've set you back--"

"Don't mention it"--he took another sip of merlot--"You can't put a price on great art."

Her nose still tilted to the glass, "Hmm, so what brought you to New York?" Her languid gaze came closer as she studied the color of his eyes.

"Tech. Just tech and lots of partying," he replied. She could've sworn a lilt of tantalizing lust swathed off his tongue as he vented his fingers through his thick dark locks. He was the image of a Greek god with one leg cocked at the knee, and the other stretched the length of his side of the sectional.

His lanky arm sprawled the back of the sofa, as he scoped her out across from him, like a man stunning his prey. He felt a throe vibrate his chest like a sultry whip tantalizing a spark loosening by the minute.

"Roman, I've heard all the partying that goes on down here," Danielle paused rolling her neck and shoulders. "Partying, huh?" she shrieked. The cadence in her voice rose all of a sudden, before her words fell silent in thought.
I wonder what kind of parties.
Danielle hesitated, needing confirmation, as Roman cleared his throat in dismissive response.

Her glassy eyes darted the sky-high rafters. "A bird could get lost in here, it's nice and airy." She giggled, as her empty glass slid out of her hand and rolled on the smooth leather. 

"Oh, and by the way...nice views," Danielle giggled again, as she placed her empty glass on the coffee table. "Oh, yeah what was I saying, oh I know," she went on, "I bet you have some wild parties up in here...some w-wild, wild parties."

"With these ceilings, I bet you've had at least a hundred people easy. It sure sounded like it, just the other night--"

He cleared his throat and swallowed, interrupting her train of thought.

"What, did I say something wr---" Her words fell silent, the moment she'd hunched over the armrest.

Danielle slowly tilted her head and gazed up at the exposed beams, as he shifted on the cushion. Her eyes followed his refined poise when he crossed his legs, and slowly fused his ankle to his thigh. Her mind played back his finesse in slow motion, arousing the lust coursing through her veins that she'd hoped he hadn't noticed.

His eyes met hers again and he stiffened the moment she resumed, "So, about this tech stuff you do--"

Unable to explain all this to Danielle, there was a growing hesitation and irritation in his eyes. Roman was still trying to figure out just what it was about her that had him on the edge of his emotions. "So, don't you think it's about time for bed...You've had a long day."

"My god Roman, the moon's not even out yet." Her arms suddenly flailed like an eagle in slow motion. Instantly, she'd gestured toward the once sun-bathed fishbowl of neo-classical and Romanesque cast-iron, which resembled those stunning masterpieces of light and shadow that draped the walls of his living room.

Roman finished off his glass of wine and slung it to the table, as he proceeded again to cut the conversation in haste. "So, I guess you should get settled in now." The words came out sharp and abrupt.

He could see temptation in the whisper of her words that curled the hairs on the back of his neck, tantalizing his heart to break down for her. He knew, that if he didn't cut the evening short, he'd be all over her honey coated raspberry mouth before she knew what hit her.

I can't, not now! I just can't do it
, he told himself.

Snubbing the pang pining his hunger yet to be satiated, he leaped off the sofa, quickening his speech. "I'll show you where the towels are, I'm sure you want to freshen up...take a warm soak or something." His words fell away as he headed toward the bedrooms.

He double-backed to scoop her valise off the sofa and flung it over his arm. Danielle wiggled herself out of her tufted cushion, and grabbed her boots off the floor, leaving the warm seat behind her as she sprinted to catch up with him.

She could almost see the ripple in his bicep as he flexed the toned muscles in his body. "Is it warm in here?" She collapsed a breath and vented her sweater down the hall, weaving behind him.

Danielle met him at the entry of a lovely guestroom when he asked, "Is this to your satisfaction?"

Roman suddenly doubled-backed toward a glass vase propped on a corner pedestal overflowing with bountiful clusters of fresh blossoms. The long stems were angled just enough that he slipped out one without disturbing the bunch. He extended his hand toward her saying, "Pretty in pink for a beautiful woman," as he handed her the delicate bud layered in rose pink beauty.

Twirling the flower between her fingers, she lifted it to her nose and bowed it back, "Peonies in February?" Danielle blushed as she dove into its intoxicating redolence.

"I have my ways"--he flitted her a surreptitious glance--"So, you like?" He lifted his arm in gesture to the bright ambience. "I like to think of it as a sassy meadow. Surreal calm."

Her cheeks swathed a bright shade of crimson as she tried to force back her animated arousal. "What a lovely guestroom. Yes, thanks. It's more than comfortable," she smiled.