“This one,” Roman pronounced from beside her, then moved in closer to the rack. “What size?”
“An eight,” she answered before she could check it. “But I don’t want that one.”
Roman kept searching, found the right size and pulled it from the bar. “You want this one. You will try it on.”
Like hell she would. If she so much as put an arm in that coat she was bound to start purring. “Nope. Too fancy.”
Roman shrugged and headed back out to the main aisle, the coat still gripped in his massive paw. “Fine. We will buy it anyway.”
“What?” She hurried after him. “Roman, you can’t buy a coat without trying it on.”
He stopped and took it off the hanger. “Good. You agree.”
Fuck.
Shit, damn, hell, fuck!
Reasoning. What she needed was some good old-fashioned reasoning. Or a diversion. Maybe she could run out of the store screaming or something. Then he’d have to leave the thing behind and chase her. “Roman, be logical. It’s the first coat I kind of liked.”
“You love it. I saw you. So, you will try it on.”
Right. No big deal. She could do that. Then she’d pretend to hate it. Or maybe it would look horrible on her and he’d hate it. She shrugged off her Levi’s jacket and dropped her purse to the floor.
He held the coat up for her and guided in one arm then the other.
As if the shopping gods were conspiring with Roman, a floor length mirror was mounted directly across from them.
And wow, did she look good. Her hair color totally rocked with the ivory and the cut and style made her look like a fashion badass. Totally her style. She could have no more avoided running her fingertips over the shearling lapel than she could stop breathing.
In the mirror, Roman nodded. “Yes. We will get this one.” He peeled it off her before she could argue and practically stomped to the nearest checkout.
Oddly, after trying the beautiful coat on, she was having a hard time getting her own feet into gear, let alone throw out any more protests. She made it to the counter just as Roman pulled a credit card from his billfold.
The twentysomething brunette with freakishly perfect red lipstick smiled and calmly uttered, “That will be $3,139.25.”
Roman handed over the card.
Bonnie sputtered, trying to find words, and reached for the card the same time the clerk did. “No!”
The clerk jerked the card out of reaching distance before Bonnie could get her fingers on it. Bonnie tugged Roman’s arm until he faced her. “You are not spending that kind of money on a coat.”
He looked to the coat. To the cashier and the card in her hand. Then back to Bonnie. “I am.” He waved the clerk back to work. “Proceed.”
Bonnie watched the rest of the transaction in a haze, stunned on a level that defied description. Though stunned shifted to something closer to an out of body experience when Roman had the clerk remove the tags from the coat, wrangled Bonnie into it and shoved her old jacket in the Saks bag.
Their exit to the parking lot happened in silence, all the dazzling stores and people rushing around them little more than background noise.
A three-thousand-dollar coat.
The guy was crazy. Certifiably insane.
But she was definitely warm. Not just on the outside, but on the inside, too. Humbled to the very tips of her toes. No one—absolutely no one in her life had ever made such a grand gesture on her behalf. And more than that, the way he walked beside her—his chin lifted high, his shoulders pushed back and his big hand engulfing hers—you’d have thought he’d just scored a date with the homecoming queen.
It floored and flattered her. Deeply so.
But what she couldn’t figure out was why?
Why spend so much money? On her? And why did he seem so pleased with himself? The thoughts plagued her so deeply, he’d been driving for God only knew how long before her brain plugged into reality and realized they were far west of not just the Central Business District but the Garden District as well. “Where are we going?”
“A quick stop to schedule something. Then we will eat.”
Eating was good. One thing she loved about Roman was that his idea of a healthy breakfast was a half a pot of coffee or more. Actual food didn’t pique his interest until around two. Sometimes later. Which was absolutely fine and dandy with her because her stomach was on the same schedule. She’d also learned they shared a love of midnight snacks. Typically anything sweet, which could range from a bowl of blackberries to one of the candy bars he kept stashed in his pantry.
“How about grilled cheeses and broccoli cheese soup? Or BLTs. I know you like those better. We can stop at the store, get the stuff we need for the soup and I’ll cook it.”
“Nyet.” If the finality in his voice wasn’t clue enough the topic wasn’t open for debate, the frown on his face would’ve cinched it. “We have a reservation.”
“At two in the afternoon? Who needs a reservation at two in the afternoon?”
He kept his eyes on the road, but there was no mistaking the pleasure in his smile. “We do. Though, by the time we run this errand, it will be closer to three.” He glanced her direction, so much warmth behind his steel gaze she felt it in her gut. “Trust me, vozlyublennaya.”
God, she was becoming a sucker for the Russian language. Or at least the way it rolled off his tongue. Granted, she’d only learned the translation for malen’kaya koroleva so far, but as good as the foreign words sounded with his deep voice, he could recite the TV guide to her and she’d be lit and ready to go.
Little queen.
My Queen.
She still had a hard time remembering how he’d said the words without visibly shivering. It was the stuff of every romance she’d ever read or seen—only he’d been up close and personal. Every bare, six-foot-four and ripped muscled inch of him.
He turned off Claiborne Avenue and headed toward East Carrollton. Less than ten minutes later, he pulled up in front of a two-story tan stucco building with black shutters and a simple black placard over the double glass doors.
Frannelly’s Custom Fine Jewelers.
Oh, shit.
A three-thousand-dollar coat and a jewelry store?
Not only no, but hell no.
She opened her mouth, ready to argue.
Roman cut her off with a blasé comment before she could. “I will only be a moment. You are welcome to come and look while I do business if you like.”
Hmm.
Business.
It did kind of make sense he’d have to work sometime. And while she’d always thought mobsters stuck to construction, restaurants and gambling for their primary partnerships, Roman, Kir and Sergei hadn’t exactly turned out to be the run-of-the-mill types for anything. Why not work with jewelers? And hell, yeah, if she could look her fill at a bunch of high-end jewelry without someone bugging her, why not go along for the ride? She shrugged and unbuckled her seat belt. “Sure.”