Gracie’s pained look said that after all these years, she could read him just as well as he’d read her.
For several seconds she was quiet, her eyes locked on his, then asked softly, “What was it like?”
The question threw him for a second. Aside from group therapy, and private sessions with his therapist, Roman had never spoken of his experience as a POW. Not even with his sister. No one ever asked. The physical scars pretty much spoke for themselves.
But despite their rocky past, he knew Gracie would never judge, or question his fortitude or bravery. He wasn’t sure how he knew, but he just did, that despite everything that had happened between them, she genuinely cared.
So he talked.
“The first few months after my rescue were almost unbearable,” Roman told her. “I couldn’t stop thinking about the men who didn’t make it out alive. The ones who were killed in front of me, in cold blood. The survivor guilt was worse than the actual torture. I would have given my life for any one of those men. The scars will never go away, but I’ve made peace with myself. It wasn’t easy, though.”
She gazed over at him, her eyes filled with pain and regret. “I used to feel as though, because of everything that happened between us, if it hadn’t been for me, you would have never joined the military in the first place. Like, maybe if I wasn’t so hard on you...if I could have forgiven you...” She shrugged. “It doesn’t make a whole lot of sense, I know.”
The idea that she felt guilt over his leaving both surprised and disturbed him. “Gracie, my joining up had nothing to do with you. I screwed up. I was arrogant and cocky and I messed with the wrong people. Even if you had forgiven me I wouldn’t have stayed because then your life would have been in danger, too. Besides, the military is in my blood. I fought it for a long time, but it’s where I was meant to be.”
What she didn’t realize was that if it hadn’t been for her, he may not have even survived the torture. Picturing her face, believing that if he endured he might see her again, had given him a reason to live as he watched his fellow soldiers die, picked off one by one as the rest had been forced to watch. One of those men had been his closest friend. A husband and father of three. To this day Roman would still give anything to switch places with him. But all he could do now was make sure that the man’s family was taken care of financially. He’d set up a trust for them in their father’s name. Even that hadn’t assuaged the guilt, but it made it easier to live with the pain.
He leaned forward, closing the gap between them, and took Gracie’s hand. It was so small and delicate compared to his own. And she didn’t even try to pull away. “Trust me when I say you were better off staying away from me. And you hold no responsibility for my mistakes. I was the one who turned my back on you. I didn’t trust you. I was young and stupid and arrogant. It was my fault.”
The limo pulled up to the Metropol hotel where the fund-raiser was being held but she didn’t let go of his hand or break eye contact. The driver steered the car into the parking structure to the VIP entrance underground. When they stopped, an attendant opened the door but Gracie just sat there looking at Roman, then she squeezed his hand.
“Roman, when I heard the false reports that you were killed, I thought I couldn’t feel any worse. Then I learned of your capture, and the torture...” She paused and took a deep breath. “I know that it was nothing compared to what you were going through, but I want you to know that I thought about you and prayed for you every day.”
Deep down he knew that. Maybe that was why he still felt such a strong bond to her. “Gracie, that means more to me than you could ever know.”
* * *
Gracie had helped plan more charity functions than she could count, and she had to admit that the Welcome Home decorating committee had seriously outdone themselves this time. Red, white and blue tulle swirled tastefully overhead, garnished with American flag balloons and crepe streamers. The tables had been draped in white linen with blue cloth napkins and red rose centerpieces. The decor screamed patriotism and valor. And in the center of it all against the back wall a slideshow of the wounded warriors and their families the foundation had assisted played on a huge screen.
The crowd was a who’s who of Chicago, with a handful of Hollywood personalities mixed in. From where she stood she could see Roman mingling with the other guests. He looked damned fine in a tux, and the slightly rumpled hair coupled with the battle scars made him look rugged and a little dangerous. Yet somehow he fit right in.
One of the tallest and biggest men there, Roman had turned heads the minute they walked through the door. She felt an odd sense of pride to be there with a man whom she considered to be by far the sexiest, most gorgeous in the room. Only they weren’t there together, she reminded herself. Not in a romantic way. She had no claim to him, nor did she want one. Though she couldn’t deny that a tiny part of her, deep down inside, wished she did.
Okay, maybe it wasn’t so tiny. And she hated herself for it. For being so weak. And irrational. For wanting a man who did her and her family so wrong. But her body kept betraying her.
Roman glanced her way, saw her watching him, and a sly grin curled his lips. He said something to the man he’d been speaking with then headed her way, and her heart shifted wildly in her chest.
When he took her hand in the limo she’d just about melted into a puddle on the leather seat. She’d wanted to pull away, and scold him for being so personal, but she just couldn’t make herself do it. It was hard enough to fight the desire to launch herself into his arms and hold him.
But he wasn’t hers to hold.
Though as he came up next to her, sliding her hand back into his would have felt as natural as breathing.
Damn him.
“See something you like?” he asked, a suggestive lilt in his tone. One that she was sure was meant to rattle her cage. And it worked.
She gestured randomly in the direction he’d come from, sighed wistfully and said, “Yes, but I think he’s married.”
Roman threw his head back and laughed. “You’re a terrible liar.”
Yes, she was, and he knew her too well. She had to fight the irrational urge to lean in close, so that their arms touched.
Back in the old days Roman had never been shy about physical affection in public. He’d always held her hand, no matter where they were.
When she started college she hadn’t had a whole lot of sexual experience. Too many times she’d been deceived by men who were only interested in her money and family name. Trust had been a difficult concept to grasp back then. And though she had sacrificed her innocence to one of the men before Roman, she had never surrendered her heart. Sex had been something fun to do, but not emotionally satisfying. She had never come close to connecting emotionally to anyone the way she had with Roman. When they’d finally crossed the line from friends to lovers, she’d been so ready, and so desperately in love with him, making love had been truly magical.
And she had the sneaking suspicion that it still would be, not that she would ever find out.
“Are you having a good time?” she asked him.
“Better than I thought I would. I’m not big on large crowds.”
“Then why did you come?”
“I couldn’t let the most beautiful woman here show up without a date.”
She glared at him, though a smile hovered just below the surface. “This is not a date.”
He shrugged. “So you keep saying.”
She heard someone call her name and looked away from Roman to see Dax Caufield, the newest addition to the state senate, making a beeline for them, flashing that renowned campaign smile. Dax was a typical politician,