When in Rome(58)

“The first pair was given to me as a gag gift.” He pauses. “But then I wore them and liked how warm they were.”

“How many, Noah? How many do you own?” I ask and I think it sounds a tad bit too seductive. But I can’t help it. Apparently matching pajama sets on men get me hot.

He swallows. “Ten.”

“TEN!” I practically chant this word. I’m so delighted by his answer I can’t stand it. Noah owns ten pairs of adorable old-man pj’s. “Do any of them have cute little prints on them?”

“No. They’re all plain.”

“Of course they are,” I say happily. He’d never be caught dead in something festive or peppy.

This is bad news. Very bad news. Because now I officially, without doubt, feel something for Noah. I like him. I genuinely like him. And I’m attracted to him in a big way, and just the scent of him has my blood rocketing through my veins. My heart is inflating like it’s attached to a bike pump. Now that I’m in here, I don’t want to leave.

“Noah,” I say softly, not taking my eyes from his face. “Can I look around your room? I won’t intrude on your privacy if you don’t want me to.” I mean it, too. I’ll shut my eyes right now and stumble out of here if me seeing his room makes him uncomfortable.

His emerald eyes hold mine, he fills his lungs with air, and then lets it out in a whoosh. “You can look around.”

He just gave me the keys to Disney World.

I smile and turn to look at the room. And that’s when I see the shelves and shelves of books. This man does not just read…he’s a book nerd. I feel Noah’s eyes on me as I step up to the wall-to-wall floating bookshelf. It’s a beautiful design. It’s made of exposed wood and black brushed steel. I don’t know if he built it or had someone else install it, but clearly it’s important to him, because it’s very well crafted—which makes it achingly sweet.

Noah lightly clears his throat. “My dad was a big reader. A lot of these books were actually his.”

Pies, flowers, and books. Little by little I’m able to string together these parts of Noah. It’s sort of terrifying that he’s turning out to be more wonderful than I expected.

I tuck my hands behind my back like I’m in a museum and everything around me is precious and fragile. “Why do you keep it hidden away in here?”

He chuckles lightly, and I love the rumble of it. “It’s not hidden away.”

I look at him over my shoulder. “You literally have it inside a room that you keep shut at all times and never let me peek into. It’s hidden.”

He’s still sitting up against the headboard, and the sight of it is so intimate for some reason I have to look away. I think he would feel less vulnerable if he were standing in front of me completely naked. But seeing him lounging in bed in his favorite pj’s in his favorite room around all his favorite books is intensely vulnerable.

“All right, I guess it’s a little hidden. I like to keep my life private. I only let certain people know me on this level.”

I touch a hardback—a biography of a World War II soldier. “But not me because I’m just a celebrity passing through.” My voice is light and airy. I don’t look at him, I just keep looking through his library of mostly nonfiction books. Apparently he enjoys learning about anything and everything. It doesn’t surprise me.

“Right,” he says quietly. “I guess you could say I’m a little jaded. I like to keep the number of people who know the emotional parts of me to a minimum.”

I look at him. “I understand. I really do. I think you’ve already endured enough heartbreak for a lifetime, and if I were you, I’d protect myself, too.” His brows pinch together like my words are a punch to his gut. I see his jaw clench and he blinks before turning his green eyes to the corner of the room.

“You can hang out if you want. Pick out a book.” Noah gestures with his head toward the corner behind me.

I turn around and there’s the most comfy, masculine-looking cracked leather armchair in the corner of the room. A cozy blanket is draped over the back with a standing lamp behind it. It calls to me. It would be a hug, that chair. The most comfortable place to sit in the entire world from years of being worn in by Noah’s body. I can’t sit there. I can’t invade his space like that.

“That’s okay. Thank you, but I’ll let you have your night to yourself back here.” I turn to flee, but Noah’s voice stops me.

“Amelia, stay. Please.”

I slowly slide my gaze to him, and I know my face is contorted into a wobbly expression. “Are you sure? I won’t be a quiet companion. I’m incapable of it.” Best to get this truth out in the open now.

He grins. “I know.”

I start backing toward the chair. “And I don’t sit still very well. I’ll probably be noisy over here. I bounce my foot when I sit too long.”

“That’s okay.”

“Will you read to me from your book?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Please?”

“No.”

“PRETTY PLEASE?”

He gives me a look over the top of his book like I’m annoying him to his core, and I smile and turn my attention to the shelf, making a big show of looking for the perfect book. “Do you at least have any romance books? Something steamy and emotional?”