The Sabine Connection

Roman hesitated. "Time to fess up," he said with a grin. "I don't have a housekeeper."

The bombshell almost knocked her sideways, and even though she had suspected it, Kate couldn't hide her consternation. "You don't?"

He folded his arms across his chest. "Kate, you seem to have an obsession with my staff. Truth is, I don't have any. I don't believe in servants. The people who service my home work for themselves."

"But -"

"And I have a chronic aversion to housekeepers," he broke in, cutting off her words. "They're a bunch of evil-minded, sadistic..."

He stopped abruptly, leaving the reporter in Kate frustrated that this insight would go undisclosed.

Until his meaning became crystal clear. "Do you mean there's no one else in the house? At all?"

Roman moved towards her slowly, with all the stealth and grace of a stalking panther. He stopped only inches from where she stood and ran a long, hard finger lightly along her jawline. "What are you afraid of, Katherine Sabina Price?" His voice was low and husky.

In urgent need of air, Kate wanted to turn and run, but she’d be damned if she'd allow this arrogant, egotistical, over-sexed actor to force her to retreat. Besides, her legs were pressed hard against the edge of the bed and the only way to move was down.

Unflinching, she lifted her chin, demanding irrelevantly, "How do you know my - middle name?" No way would she let him know it was the other way around.

Roman knew she couldn't move but he was not about to back off. This was definitely worth being late for. "You wrote it on the contest form, don't you remember?"

His soft tone was oddly disconcerting. "I did?" she croaked. "No, I - I don't -"

Paul! Strychnine became the favoured option. It was slow and painful.

"And it so intrigued me," Roman was saying, forcing her to marshall her thoughts quickly, "that I looked up its meaning." He paused and looked deep into her eyes. "You know what it means, don't you, Kate?"

Of course she did. Having a frustrated archaeologist for a father, who was so besotted with ancient civilisations that he named his children after them, had never mattered before. Now she wished he hadn’t named her after the Sabine women.

"Perhaps you can see the parallel here," Roman said with quiet emphasis. His words hinted at excitement. "Perhaps that's why you're so jumpy and on edge with me."

Kate cleared her throat. "Parallel?"

Roman inched closer until she could feel the heat of his body through her clothing. A warm glow began in the pit of her stomach. It was something she hadn’t experienced for years, and she recognised it instantly.

Desire!

Raw, unfettered, unashamed desire.

His vibrant, masculine energy drew her to him, filling her with a wanting that felt so right yet at the same time, dangerous. Her mind told her she should push him away but her body refused to do its bidding.

"You know what happened to the Sabine women, don't you, Kate?"

She couldn't answer; she was too intent on trying to keep from pressing her body along the length of his. He was aroused; she could feel it against her belly.

And so was she. Why didn't he pull her against him? Ease her longing?

"Those Romans just carried them off to their camp in the hills and - well, I guess

you know the rest of the story."

Of course she did and the parallel sent her brain spinning into outer space.

He placed a finger under her chin and tipped her face up, forcing her to look into his eyes. Then slowly, heart-stoppingly slowly, he lowered his head to brush a light, teasing kiss on her lips. Her blood turned to champagne, fizzing and bubbling through her veins until she felt light-headed.

"Welcome to my camp."