Protecting the Innocent. Cassie Miles
clean and efficient, but it wasn’t until she stepped into the living area that Anya had the full dramatic impact of Roman’s high-tech home. Two-story, plate-glass windows offered a breathtaking view of bay and sky. The interior walls were accented with sea-foam green and burgundy. Unusual colors, but they worked well with the chrome lamps and warm hardwood floors. Charlie dashed around the room, testing the modern, modular furniture.
She’d expected a sexy den of iniquity, but this wasn’t it. “Very classy,” she said. “Your home suits you.”
“I’m almost scared to show you the upstairs.”
With Charlie in the lead, they ascended an open staircase to the second level, which was one huge room. Up here, the predominant colors were eggshell-white and a hot, passionate red. At one end was a high-tech Plexiglas office space. In the center was a conversation area. At the far end, separated by a black lacquered Chinese screen, was a massive four-poster bed in black and chrome.
Aha! This was the bachelor pad, the sheik’s boudoir. The rich, deep red bedcover and dozens of pillows hinted at lavish, seductive delights. Mesmerized, Anya drifted toward it. On the bedside table were three buttons.
“Go ahead,” Roman said. “Push the buttons.”
She glanced nervously toward her son. Was this something he should see?
The first button adjusted the vertical blinds on the wall-to-wall windows, allowing a view of the bay. That seemed innocent enough.
When she pressed the second button, the bed began to vibrate. She arched an eyebrow. “Back problems?”
“It also heats up,” he said.
“I’ll bet it does.”
She turned it off and touched the third button. A wide-screen television rose from a chest at the foot of the bed.
“Wow!” Charlie clapped his hands. “I want a bed just like this when I grow up.”
Anya gave a disapproving sniff. This was not a role model she wanted her son to emulate.
“This part of the room is better.” Roman pointed Charlie toward his office and said, “Computer on.”
The flat screen came to life, showing a crystal clear picture of an underwater coral reef. The computer spoke in a sultry female voice. “Welcome home, Roman. It’s 5:32 in the afternoon.”
Charlie ran up to the screen. “What else does she do?”
“Computer, music,” Roman said. “Classical.”
The room filled with the throbbing opening notes to Ravel’s Bolero. The sound resonated from several hidden speakers. Incredible! Anya felt as if she were inside an orchestra pit.
“Computer, softer,” Roman said.
The computer responded, lowering the volume.
“Can I talk to her?” Charlie asked.
“Sorry, buddy. She only responds to my voice.”
Anya stepped up beside them. “Why are you guys referring to the computer as a female?”
“Jeez, Mom. Didn’t you hear her voice? She’s a girl.”
And Anya wasn’t sure she wanted her five-year-old son associating with this sexy-sounding machine. What else was this computer programmed to do?
“Computer, games,” Roman said. A menu popped up on the screen. “What do you like to play, Charlie?”
“Acto-Dinosaurs.” He wriggled with excitement. “And I get to be Caveman.”
Roman typed in a few commands, accessing the program, which was one Legate had created. He placed Charlie in the chair in front of the screen and handed him a joystick. “Knock yourself out, kiddo. Your mom and I will be downstairs making dinner.”
“Okay.” Charlie was already absorbed in the game, lining up a series of battles with snarling cyberdinosaurs.
With one last speculative glance at the sumptuous bed, Anya followed Roman downstairs. “I’m impressed. Your house is fantastic.”
“Glad you like it,” he said. “It was already built, but I knocked out a couple of walls and opened it up. Made the top floor into one room.”
“It turned out beautifully. How did you learn to do this design stuff?”
“Before I started working at Legate, I had a career in contracting. I did a lot of custom homes, but my preference was big buildings. High-rises. Skyscrapers.”
“What made you decide to change careers?”
In the kitchen, he removed a foil-covered tray from the refrigerator. “It wasn’t that big a switch. Contracting and development requires a lot of administrative work—scheduling, negotiating and budget. Legate offered me a wider arena.”
She detected a note of sadness in his voice. “Do you miss contracting?”
“In a way. There’s something satisfying about putting a plan down on paper and seeing it through to completion. At Legate, nothing is ever simple.”
When he peeled back the foil, she caught a tantalizing whiff of a fragrant marinade drowning three steaks. “You never told me you could cook.”
“Every bachelor has at least three things they can make. All of mine involve red meat.” He handed her a bottle of red wine from the fridge. “Grab a couple of glasses from the shelf by the sink and come with me.”
They went outside through a sliding glass door. A long deck stretched the entire length of the house. Built out from the cliff, the deck seemed suspended in air. Anya went to the railing and peered over the edge. The drop was thirty feet to a rocky shoreline where breakers splashed, throwing up a frothy spray. “Good thing I’m not afraid of heights.”
“Or earthquakes,” he said. “When I moved in, I had the supports redesigned to compensate for shifting earth and erosion. But if the Big One hits, this deck is toast.”
“You like having a bit of danger in your life, living on the edge.” She looked down. “Literally.”
He fired up the gas grill and placed the steaks on it. “Neville calls it risk-aggressive behavior. For some reason, this is a positive attribute for a paper-pushing administrator.”
“You don’t strike me as a paper-pusher.”
“You’d be surprised at how boring my life can be.” With the steaks sizzling, he joined her at the railing and pointed to the west. “If we stand right here, we can watch the sun dip below the horizon.”
The skies, frothed with clouds, had begun to take on a crimson tinge. A salty sea breeze brushed her cheeks and throat, but Anya was warm inside the black blazer she wore over her dress. She looked up at the broad-shouldered man who stood beside her. Now that she’d started digging below his polished surface, she wanted to know more.
“We’ve never talked much about you,” she mused. “I know that you and Jeremy went to high school together in Denver. You were a runner.”
“I still hold the school record for the 500.” He smiled down at her. “I’ve always been fast.”
“So I’ve heard.” Jeremy had told her all sorts of wild stories about Roman and his harem, but she was beginning to see him as a multifaceted person who was far more fascinating than a mere womanizer. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you talk about your family.”
“Probably not.” He opened the wine and filled their glasses.
“Come on, Roman. Tell me about your mother and father.”
“My mother was a Gypsy,” he said, taking a sip.
“That’s why I’m named Roman, short for Romani. The Gypsy word for man.”
Very