When in Rome (When in Rome, #1)

by Sarah Adams

It’s not infatuation. Not even lust. It’s the worst of all the feelings…care. Care is reckless because it doesn’t come with the seat belt that selfishness offers. Care has

so

much to lose, and almost always ends ...

“I still can’t believe he sat beside her bed all night and monitored her.

“And let me ask you something? When the hell did it become such a crime to be selfish now and again?”

Sometimes a woman is just worn out and needs a break, you know?” The lines on her forehead deepen. “That doesn’t prove that you’re weak or neglectful, it proves to all the women standing by and watching you pave the road to success that it’s okay to say no. It’s okay to shut your door every now and then and put up a sign that says Busy taking care of me today. Piss off.”

“You’re so pretty,” he says, without a slur but words heavy with sleep. “And you sing like an angel, too.”

We make eye contact and he doesn’t smile at first, but the longer he looks at me, his lips start to rise in the corners like he just can’t help himself. And all at once, I think maybe my chances aren’t hopeless after all.

“Dammit,” he whispers and then looks at me one more time. “You look very pretty.” I feel a smile in my soul before it reaches my lips. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.” “It is for me.”

“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’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.”

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