The barb hurt, but that was her anger talking. Roman let it go. “Then let me show you all over again.”
He slid a hand behind her neck, giving her precious seconds to oppose him. If she said no, he might be able to walk away. It would kill him, but he’d do it.
“This won’t change a thing,” she whispered, her face guarded.
But he saw the anticipation gleaming in her eyes.
Roman held in his shock. Her reply was not a no. She didn’t hate the thought of him touching her.
That was all he’d needed to hear. The time for talk was done. Not recognizing those moments in the past had been his mistake. Talking had never been their strong suit, but this… Oh, this had been everything. He could feel her body pressing against his as though she couldn’t quite help herself. As though she felt the same magnetic pull.
Breath held, he lowered his mouth to hers, ready to taste her for the first time in well over a decade.
“Roman? Roman, are you in there?”
Gus stepped back quickly, her face flushed as she turned toward the door that led to the hallway. The French doors opened, and Darcy Hildebrandt strode in.
The attaché to the prime minister was lovely and young as she smiled his way. She was wearing a perfectly respectable but feminine business suit, her blonde hair artfully styled. She had a charming upper-crust British accent and the worst timing in the world.
She ignored Gus altogether and strode right to him, hands outstretched in welcome. “There you are. I’ve been looking everywhere for you. Good morning, Roman. You look completely dashing.”
She moved into his personal space, offering her cheek.
He tilted his body away, pecking her lightly and wishing he didn’t have to deal with all the European affectations. He had a stupid erection because whenever Augustine was around his dick stood and saluted. “Sorry. I was trying to have a few moments of peace and quiet before the president arrives.”
She stepped back. “Well, I’m sorry you were interrupted, then.” She finally turned toward Gus. “Is there something I can help you with, Ms. Spencer? Mr. Calder’s job is extremely important. We should give him this time alone so he can be rested when the president needs him.”
“Wow, did you also earn a master’s of kiss assery while you attended Oxford?” Gus asked.
Yep. There was the Augustine he knew and admired the hell out of.
Roman moved into damage repair mode. Darcy was sweet—and no match at all for Gus. Maybe he’d been too relaxed about letting the pretty Brit flirt with him. She’d seemed like a balm to his ego, but he certainly wasn’t going to shift their relationship from professional to personal. “Augustine, you mentioned something about making sure there was tea served in the ladies’ parlor?”
“Nope. I didn’t mention tea at all,” Gus replied. “But I’ve got a full bar in there. After six hours on a plane with Zack, Liz is going to need a drink. In fact, I think we all are.” She glanced down at her phone. “And they’re pulling in. I’ll go and greet them in the drive. You and Darcy can have the room.”
She strode out as if she didn’t care whether she saw him again.
Damn it.
Darcy frowned up at him, lingering entirely too close for his comfort. “Your tie is all wrong. It’s far more fashionable to wear it a bit shorter now.”
She started to reach for it, but he caught her hands. “I prefer it as is.”
He didn’t care, honestly, but Gus had fixed his tie the way she wanted it. He wouldn’t let someone else change it. Not that she was paying any attention to him at the moment. Instead, he turned to see her walking out to the drive.
“Of course. You look smashing either way. Shall I go and fix the ladies’ parlor, then? It won’t take a moment. I’ve seen to the president’s library myself. You have appetizers and a fully stocked bar. I’ll switch the ladies to a lovely high tea. We wouldn’t want the gossip to get out that the women in the American party are less than ladylike.”
What the hell did that mean? “I think you should leave the ladies to Augustine. Dear god, don’t take their booze. They’ll come after ours.” He switched topics, letting her know this one was closed. “I’m rethinking tonight’s gathering. Maybe we should have a single greeting party and host it here. All of us together.”
She wrinkled her nose and put her hand on his arm as he started outside. He suspected Darcy had read one too many Jane Austen novels. She had very Victorian ideas about how women should behave. It wasn’t a representation of most of the British ladies he knew. At first, he’d found her approach rather cultured. Interesting, even. Now it bugged the hell out of him.
“Perhaps we should discuss that at length,” she argued. “Oh, and you asked for theater tickets. I reserved a box at one of the West End’s most historic theaters. It’s good publicity. There will be six of us. The prime minster and his wife, the president and his date, and you. I’ll come along to ensure everything runs properly and to handle the press on our end. I know them quite well. I thought that since you don’t have a date, my idea would be most logical. The arrangement would be all work, of course, but leaving that seat open seemed a bit sad.”
He shook his head. “I’ll let Gabe and his wife go.”
“Oh, no. I’ve let everyone know to expect Roman Calder. You must go.”
Damn it. One of the reasons he had insisted that the other couples come along was to give him some cover. And for a visit. It had also been an awfully long time since they’d all been together for more than a few hours.
Roman opened the door, holding it for her like a gentleman. “I’m sure the prime minister will find Gabe and Everly charming.”
She looked back at him, tears glimmering in her eyes. “I promised him you would come.” She stopped and visibly shook off her sadness, discreetly wiping her eyes. “But I’m sure it will be all right. He can be a demanding man, but I’ll make him see reason.”
Or the PM might fire her because she’d vowed to deliver time with the president and his right hand. The last thing he needed to deal with from Darcy was an anxiety attack. “All right. I’ll go.”
Her smile turned brilliant and she reached for his arm again as they strolled into the anemic London sunlight. “Excellent. We’ll have a lovely time. I’ve got the prettiest dress. I’ll ring Mimi to make certain we won’t clash. We can’t have that when we’re arm candy for two of the most powerful men in the world.”
“Mimi? The British model?” Gus asked. “The one who’s far too skinny to even manage carrying a last name? That’s who Zack’s dating now?”
If Darcy heard the sarcasm in Gus’s voice, she didn’t show it. She simply smiled and squeezed his arm. “Yes, she’s quite lovely. She and the president will make the most stunning couple. But Roman and I won’t be far behind. I’ll go and talk to the housekeeper now, darling. Don’t worry. I’ll make certain everything is exactly the way you like it.”
She turned on her heels and hurried away.
Gus stared at him, looking all but ready to roll her eyes.
“It’s not a date.”
Her gaze slid away as the big black SUV pulled up. Suddenly they were surrounded by men in black suits. The Secret Service was damn good at keeping a low profile until the moment they were needed. Every square inch of the big manor home they were staying in had been checked and rechecked, security on high alert for this visit.
Flashes began flaring the moment the door opened. As a second SUV stopped behind the first, Zack stepped out, buttoning his suit coat and waving at the crowd. He looked cool and collected, nodding toward the reporters even as he completely ignored their shouted questions. Surprisingly, he moved around the SUV and stood stoically as Liz emerged, his hand outstretched to help her down.
“What is he doing?” They’d talked about this. Liz was supposed to ride in the second SUV, staying as inconspicuous and removed from the president as possible. Gabe and Connor were meant to occupy the lead car with Zack.
Gus’s l
ips turned up in a smile. “Something right for once in his life.”
Zack helped Liz down, one hand steadying hers and the other on the small of her back. She tried to pull away the second she stood on solid ground.
What the hell was going on? Gabe and Connor were smiling and waving to the crowd, obviously providing cover. But why?
Liz started up the stairs and stumbled. Zack caught her, helping her back up and whispering something in her ear. Liz’s whole body stiffened but she allowed Zack to hustle her inside the house.
Roman looked over at Gus. Her face didn’t show it exactly but he knew her well enough to realize she was as surprised as he felt. In silent answer, she shook her head. She had no damn idea what was going on either. As they followed the party, Roman gave her a little shrug, holding the door open for her.
“Don’t touch me again.” Liz turned on Zack, her normally perfect blonde hair mussed.
Zack’s face was a mask of frustration as he faced her down. “If you don’t want me to touch you, then how about you stay away from the vodka, baby?”
Zack was always calm. Always cool. Holy shit.
“Holy shit,” Gus said under her breath.
Yes, they always had been in sync.
Liz bent over, pulling off her high heels. “I’m not drunk, you asshole. You try walking around in five-inch heels!”
Liz drew her hand back and Gus went into action.
“Nope, we’re not taking our frustration out on the Louboutins. They are innocent.” Gus looked back at Zack. “Unlike you.”
Zack seemed to deflate. “Gus, I…”