When in Rome (When in Rome, #1)

by Sarah Adams

Noah grabs a hat from the coatrack on the wall and pushes his hand back through his hair before slapping it firmly on his sexy head. Sexy? No…stop that, Amelia.

What the hell is wrong with me? She’s not mine to get territorial over. If James wanted to go for Amelia, that would be completely…unacceptable. Who am I kidding? I’d kill him. Limb by limb, I’d make it as painful as possible.

She dimples at James and I find myself wanting to cup my hands over her cheeks so he can’t see them. Like those dimples are an intimate part of her that only I should be entitled to see.

I keep trying to tell myself it’s only attraction, but I’m not sure that even I can believe that anymore. Not when she smiles up at me and it feels like my insides burst with light. When I’m dying to know how her night with my sisters went. Wishing I could cancel my day and spend the whole of it just listening to her talk. I’m terrified.

She shoots a little airstream at her bangs to shift them. And before I can control my hand, I reach up and brush my fingers against her bangs, sweeping them out of her eyes. She smiles softly—curiously—at the gesture. I would give an excuse, but I don’t have a good one anymore. So I just shrug with an it-is-what-it-is smile.

“Don’t say a w—” “Amelia and Noah sitting in a tree…” “Be sure and have a shitty day, James!” I say in a chipper tone, throwing him the bird over my shoulder. “Tell your girlfriend I can’t wait for our lunch date. Love you!”

“Hello,” I reply, pulling my mind out of that fantasy bubble bath. “Are you here to buy flowers?”

Mabel sighs deeply from across the room and practically yells, “Bless it, child! He’s here for you! Now go ahead and ask the lady out, Noah, so we can all be finished with this barrel of awkwardness.”

“I missed you.” My laughter stops. My heart skips. My lips part. But before I can respond, he adds, “But you’re still a pain in my ass.”

I wish more than anything I was up there on that dock where I could run my fingers over his bronzed skin. First, I’d tenderly touch his tattoo on his ribs because there’s something about it that makes me feel like it should be revered. And second, I’d touch every other centimeter available. (Because in this fantasy there are no barriers between us and I’m his girlfriend who he’s deeply in love with.)

“I’m jumping in, what’s it look like?” It looks like this grown, toned, gorgeous man is stripping down to his underwear in broad daylight! My mouth is gaping open. My cheeks are turning into boiling flesh. It’s a wonderful thing he was a lifeguard because I’m at real risk of drowning as I try to tread water while confronted with his fantastic, strong body. I don’t care, I will sink to the bottom and die a happy woman because I have now seen perfection.

But I don’t look to where there is leading or my pupils will dilate and blind me and Noah will know immediately what I’m thinking. And what I’m thinking is I’d like to climb right up that sturdy man. Even just his exposed wrists have been making my mouth water all week, let alone his powerful, rugged body.

“But how come you got to take your clothes off first and keep them nice and dry, but I didn’t?” His eyes darken when they fix on me. “I think you already know the answer to that question.” Because he wouldn’t be able to keep his hands off me. Because this heat I’ve been feeling between us is not one-sided.

Noah raises his hand and pushes it back through his hair, wicking water away and flashing me his bicep in the process. Flash away, biceps. I’m at your mercy.

“I’m trying so hard to stay away,” he says in a low rasp. His eyes track over my face and now the pull between us feels crushing. Unbearable. “And I’m failing.”

I hold my breath as his lips close the gap and press into mine. Bliss. Wonder. Magic.

His touch brands me, carves his name everywhere, and I hold on to him like letting go would mean certain death. Kissing Noah is more than I bargained for. It’s more than I could have hoped—and it convinces me of something that it shouldn’t: we’re good together.

I want you to meet her. But…she’s not the grandma that raised me anymore. She was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s three years ago. That’s when my sisters and I moved her into this assisted-living home. It was such a difficult decision, but she’s so much safer here, and they have incredible care for Alzheimer’s patients.”

signing both our names on a visiting sheet. Noah and Amelia. Side by side. In his beautiful cursive. Briefly, I wonder if they’d notice if I stole this sheet on my way out to keep it as a memento for the rest of my life.

Two people can’t live under the same roof for weeks knowing they both have the same feelings and not inadvertently propel their relationship forward. And that’s why I don’t admit to her that I’m crazy about her. That I can barely sleep at night because I lie awake tormented with the thought that she’s sleeping across the hall from me. That I’ve never met anyone who makes me feel the way she does.

I want to kiss her all day every day until I eventually die from lack of oxygen.

Never touch Amelia again after knowing what it’s like to have her in my arms? Knowing what it’s like to feel her satisfied sigh against my lips? Torture. It’ll be nothing short of it,

I agree that sometimes opposites are terrible together—like pickles on brownies.” She shivers in disgust, making me laugh. “But sometimes…I think they can make each other better. Like maple syrup and bacon.” She gives me one more of her heart-stopping smiles before she goes to her room for the rest of the night. I go to mine and try to read, but I can’t focus because all I can think about is how much I damn well love maple syrup with bacon.

What the hell is wrong with me? I’ve never felt like a jealous asshole before, but hearing that Amelia and James have already spent the entire day together on his farm and are now throwing a dinner party like some sort of white-picket-fence couple has me contemplating murder for my best friend.

my mind lingers back to that kiss yesterday that I felt all the way in my soul. She was so right in my arms—sweet and soft and holding on to me like she needed me.

I need every lick of sense I can get to help me withstand falling in love with Amelia Rose. Except…no. I think I already have.

We stare at each other for a minute and it feels hard to breathe. Hard to think. Hard to do anything but imagine wrapping my arms around her and pulling her into my chest. I’d kiss her hair. Her forehead. Work my way down her temple and her cheek to the corner of her mouth to…

I’m dying to say exactly what I’m thinking: You look gorgeous. I like your jean shorts—I haven’t seen these on you before. Your white tank top is cute. Has your manager bugged you today? I don’t want you to go. I’ve been dreaming of kissing you again. I don’t trust myself alone with you. And I want to hear every single detail of your day from start to finish, don’t leave anything out. I know she’d tell me. She’d spill her pretty guts and her eyes would sparkle and light up like they do when she’s happy.

I swear if he put his arms around her to teach her how to whisk the flour into the milk and bacon grease I will punch him in the throat. I’ve never been the violent type, but it’s never too late to change.

“I think she’s been in town for a week and can’t have feelings for me that fast.” “Bullshit.” “I think she’s trouble.” “Double bullshit.” I sigh and look at the stack of pancakes. “I think I’m in trouble.” “Bingo. There it is.

I’m focusing on how she’s wearing my sweatshirt again. How the image of any other woman wearing that sweatshirt will never compare to the sight of it draped over Amelia.

I never want to not be surrounded by his body. We fit perfectly together and it’s not just because our pajamas most likely came in a set.

“To me, you’re Amelia. Maker of shitty pancakes and a smile that rivals the sun. All I want is you.”

I sweep my fingers up to feel the lines where he’s now grinning. I will memorize him if it’s the last thing I do. I will carry the feel of his smile in my pocket for the rest of my life.

I’m finally anchored after drifting for too long, and in some corner of my mind I realize that his hands are the only ones I want against my body for the rest of my life.

He whispers things against my skin and I feel coddled and held and like I’m absolutely darling to him. I want this forever, I think.

I’ve never felt this with anyone before. I’ve never wanted to hold a woman’s hand just for the hell of it. I didn’t realize I was an affectionate kind of guy until I met Amelia and now all I want to do is hold her and snuggle her and kiss her and touch her. I almost don’t recognize myself.

“I don’t want to go back,” she says, her eyes snapping to me. “I’m going to live here now. No more celebrity life for me. Cancel the tour. I’m done with music.”

“I’m not leaving you. I thought I could keep this temporary but—” He breaks off, shaking his head and kissing me hastily. Nearly painfully. It’s the most exquisite torture. “I don’t want it to be over between us. I can’t let it be over.” I’m breathless with hope. “What are you saying?” “I’m saying fears be damned. I want a relationship if you do.” “I do!” I say so fast he was barely able to finish his sentence. “But you’ll have to be patient with me—” “I will!”

“Mr. Romantic.” “Mr. Ridiculously Lucky.” “Shush. I told you not to encroach on my nicknames.” He grins and his eyes lower to my mouth. “So is that a yes? You’ll officially date this lowly pie shop owner?” “As long as you never refer to yourself as that again, yes. Absolutely times a million.”

“Get back,” Will, my head bodyguard, says forcefully and everyone complies because Will looks like a street fighter you’d never want to cross. He also makes the very best gingersnaps I’ve ever had and is a wizard with a travel sewing kit, but I’m thankful this zoo of paparazzi doesn’t know that.

Did you tip off anyone from the media to where I am staying right now?”

“No. Of course not. Why would you think I’d do that?” I can’t answer right away—too many responses are swirling around my head. But apparently my silence speaks volumes. “Amelia, I don’t know where this is coming from, but I swear to you, I would never sell a story about you to a magazine. Never in a million years.”

“Mom,” I say, swallowing against a suddenly dry throat. “Why aren’t we close anymore?” I hear my mom release a sigh, and I think it’s one of relief. “I wish I knew. I’ve wanted to bring it up for a while now, but didn’t know how. Is it me? Did I do something? Because I want to know and make it right if I did.”

“I love you. I want to get back to the sort of relationship we used to have.” She breathes in deeply and then sniffles. “I want that, too. Yes, call me back when you can. Or we can FaceTime. Or I’ll fly to wherever you are. You name it! I’m just…” She’s crying—I can hear it in her voice. “I’m happy you brought it up. Things have been so weird between us, and sometimes, I’ve wanted to call you and catch up, but…I’ve chickened out because I’ve gotten the impression that you don’t want to talk to me anymore.”

“Mom, a few years ago, for your forty-fifth birthday, did Susan ever send a car to pick you up for the surprise weekend away I planned for you?” “What?” She breathes out. “No. I had no idea you did that. In fact, I thought you forgot about my birthday that year.”

“I actually had planned a fun getaway for us, and Susan told me when I sent a car for you that you declined, saying you already had plans with your friends.”

“Enough.” My voice is sharp as the crack of a whip. “I just got off the phone with my mom. It wasn’t her. In fact, it’s never been her, has it? You’ve been leaking stories about me to the tabloids for years and using my mom as your scapegoat. Also, how many of those money-sucking requests you tell me she makes actually come from her?”

“I know it was you, Susan, and now I know you’re responsible for so much more than I ever realized, so you can cut the shit. And thanks to finally talking to my mom about all this, I know that you’ve been meddling in our relationship and purposely not relaying messages and making up lies instead.”

“I’ll leave, but you need to know that you’re wasting your life out here, and that man”—she spits those last two words while nodding in disgust toward Noah—“will only bring you down just like your mom was doing. Believe it or not, what I did today was for your own good.” “So you’re admitting to being behind the paparazzi ambush today?”