Page 40 of Unstable

“There. That wasn’t so bad, was it?” She gently hip-checked him, and he chuckled.

“No, trouble. Not so bad.”

“Good.” She pointed to the pan. “Now finish making me breakfast so you can show me some moves.”

One dark eyebrow ratcheted toward his hairline. “Bossy little thing, aren’t you?”

She grinned. “That shouldn’t be news to you.”

He shook his head. “No, it’s not. Get out of my kitchen and go sit.”

Turning toward the small dining table, she jumped and let out a shriek when the slotted spatula he’d been holding connected with her butt. She threw her hands over both cheeks to cover them as she whipped toward him. “Hey!”

He used the spatula to point at her. “You deserved that for making me sing.”

She couldn’t help but smile. “Still don’t regret it. Now”—she made a chopping motion with her hand—”chop-chop.”

She jumped out of the way with a laugh as Roman swatted at her with the spatula again. “Woman, I swear…” He trailed off, and she grinned at the exasperation tingeing his voice. She could definitely get used to this playful side of him.

Two hours later, sweat poured down her temples as they stood in the small grassy area of the backyard discussing self-defense maneuvers. “If you’re ever out in public and fear for your life, yell ‘fire’ instead of ‘help.’ People are more likely to come running.”

She lifted a brow at him. “Um… why?”

“People instinctively hesitate to put their own lives in jeopardy. They hear the word help and fear the worst—that they’ll be shot or kidnapped along with the person in trouble. Fire, by comparison, doesn’t hold the same threat.”

“Well, that’s messed up,” she replied.

“Sad, but true.” Roman shrugged, then moved into position once more. “Ready?”

She took a deep breath and swallowed. “Go.”

Facing her, he wrapped both hands around her neck in a choke hold. She took a huge step backward, bending at the waist and ducking her head, putting pressure on his thumbs and breaking his hold. She quickly slipped under his arm and spun away from him, out of reach of his grasping hands. Once she was free, she jogged a few steps away, then turned to look at him, breathing heavily.

“Nice job. That’s enough for today. We’ll come back to it tomorrow.” He shot her a grin. “You’re doing well.”

“Thanks.” She offered him a little smile and shook out her limbs. “I had no idea how hard this would be. You make it look so easy.”

“It takes a lot of time and practice to master some of the more advanced moves.” He held the door for her as they stepped into the welcome air conditioning of the house. “I’ll be teaching a variety of different classes for Vantage if you want to keep learning or hone your skills.”

Her steps faltered as she strode toward the kitchen to grab a bottle of water. Could she still see Roman after all of this was over? Maybe the better question was, how could she not?

She nodded slowly. “I might have to do that.”

Because seeing him, even in a strictly professional capacity, was better than not seeing him at all.

CHAPTER

SEVENTEEN

Roman stood in the open doorway of the fridge, peering inside as if hoping that something different would magically appear. He smiled at the look of abject dismay on Irina's face. “What’s for dinner, trouble?”

She threw a look over her shoulder. “Chicken or… chicken.”

He didn’t know if she’d intentionally used the line from one of his favorite movies, but it made him smile nonetheless. It was something he’d found himself doing more and more often in Irina’s presence. Over the past couple of days, they’d settled into a rhythm of sorts. Their argument the other night seemed to clear the air, and ever since then, things had been better than ever.

He still regretted what he’d said, especially now that he was getting to know her better. There were so many facets to Irina he didn’t think he’d ever discover all of them. He was finding new things each day that he liked about her, more things that they had in common. It was dangerous territory, and one he’d promised himself—repeatedly—that he wouldn’t venture into.

It was getting harder and harder not to admit his attraction to her. They spent hours together each day, almost like a real couple. Except… not. Nothing about this was normal. They were carrying on a temporary marriage to keep her safe—which was his number one priority. The fact was, she was his principal—the person he’d been charged to watch over and keep from harm. He couldn’t do that if he was constantly distracted by his feelings for her.