Blindsided (Roman Holiday 3)

“She claims there are Key deer. That the property is Key deer habitat.”

“That’s absurd.”

But Carmen found herself glancing around anyway, looking for them.

All she saw was eight down-at-the-heel buildings, a cinder-block office, a pool. A lot of downed palm fronds, the gutter, an upside-down kayak, a chunk of pink attic insulation, some other debris that had blown in during the hurricane.

No place for Key deer to sleep or eat or whatever it was Key deer did besides be a pain in the ass.

“I know it’s absurd,” Roman said, “but that’s how judges are. Even a whisper of habitat destruction, and they’ll shut me down for years.”

“You’re exaggerating.”

But Roman didn’t exaggerate.

He didn’t hare off to Georgia, either, with girls who chained themselves to palm trees. Roman didn’t get blackmailed, and if he did, he didn’t sound so damn worried about it.

She reached the office and made a note on her clipboard to find out more about the local judges, and then another note to get a second Bluetooth headset so she wouldn’t have to keep squeezing her phone between her shoulder and her ear to free up a hand.

Tucking the pen into the clipboard, she lifted one French-tipped fingernail in the direction of the contractor. He’d have to wait for her to finish the call. She couldn’t do three things at once.

“You got all the environmental work done properly?” she asked.

“Of course.”

“And your expert found no impa

ct on Key deer?”

“Negligible impact. Ashley’s bluffing. I’m going to call her bluff and head back to Miami. If she tries to stop the demo, I’ll throw everything I’ve got at her.”

“That’s ludicrous. Think, Roman. This is a woman who chained her own body to a palm tree without making any provision for food or toilet. She’s the walking, talking definition of loose cannon. You don’t turn your back on a loose cannon. You get it under control. If my dad finds out what a mess things are here by reading about adorable baby Key deer in the Herald, you’re going to have much bigger problems than some eco-terrorist chick. You two have a handshake agreement, not a contract, and you know Heberto—that’s not enough to protect you or your development if he decides to bail. Or, shit, if he decides to take over, I can’t see you being able to stop him from doing that, either. Now, I’ve got your contractor here, and he says he can get everything cleaned up and be ready to do the knockdown in …” She lifted her gaze to the contractor’s face for the first time.

He had a beard.

A lovely beard.

She didn’t like beards, but this one …

This man …

She gave her head a shake, knocking out unwelcome thoughts of soft brown hair and warm brown eyes. Knocking her hat out of alignment again. It slipped down over her eyebrows. “When will you be ready to do the demo?” she asked.

He smiled, and it was like sun-warmed liquid pouring over her whole body. “I can fit it in next week if we get the site cleaned up, but—”

Carmen turned away. Today was Wednesday. They would lose another five days to this madness. Not good, but with the hurricane cleanup messing with the timing anyway, it could be borne. “Monday, Roman. Bribe her, pay her off, shut her up. I don’t care what you do, but get her locked down, and do it by Monday.”

She poked the phone to end the call, then stared at it instead of looking up.

Because she wasn’t accustomed to Roman being a problem, or sounding so strangely helpless.

And also, unfortunately, because she wasn’t accustomed to sharing space with men who could do weird things to her blood when she wasn’t even looking at them.

This was the first time, actually.

“Everything all right?” the contractor asked.

She lifted her chin and collided with his eyes again. Soft eyes. Soft face, soft mouth. She glanced down, hoping for a soft body, a target for the disdain she needed to locate, but instead she found a chest and the word burly.