“You got a new phone system?” Of course, he knew exactly where Babushka was. She was totally in on his plan for the day.
“I did. So they’d have to leave for an afternoon and attend training.” She practically beamed.
“Proud of you.” He pulled her in for a kiss. A quick peck on the lips so they would still get on with the day. The chaste kiss heated. It’s what happened whenever his lips were near Sadie’s.
They kissed again, hard and hot and everything he’d ever wanted.
Sadie broke the kiss. “Should we go to my party?”
Dammit. He’d gone out of his way to keep this soiree a secret.
“Who told you?” he asked, ready to strangle whoever had spilled the beans.
“Wait, is there really a party?” Sadie grinned and did another dance move. “Happy birthday to me. This is the best day ever.”
Sadie’s birthday was actually the upcoming Wednesday, but with the trial schedule, she had said she didn’t want a party that day.
“You didn’t know?” he asked, jaw slack.
“Not until just now when you answered my question.” She grinned like a woman who had just found out it was the day of her birthday party. “I hope you got me a pony.” She marched right out of her office. “I’ve always wanted one.”
“If I got you a pony, we’d have to call her Nads,” Roman replied, following.
“Nope.” Sadie shook her head, glancing back at him. “That’s your debt to pay, not mine.”
After the months they’d spent together, Roman really hoped it would eventually be her debt, too. He also hoped she liked her birthday present a fuckuva lot more than a pony.
“At least act surprised,” he said. “Your friends and I put a lot of thought into this being asurpriseparty.”
Sadie made her eyes go wide, her eyebrows go high, and her mouth open in mock shock. “Like this?”
“Something like that.” Roman led her down the hall.
“Wait.” She stopped. “I want something for my birthday.”
He’d give her anything.
“What doesmilayamean?” she asked.
Oh. That.
She reached for his hand, tangling his fingers with hers. “I looked it up, but there are several definitions. I wondered which you meant.”
That was a good question…
“I… uh…” He glanced away. “I don’t really know.”
Her mouth parted. The surprised look he had been aiming for before began to take over. “Get out.”
“It’s an endearment. I mean, it means sweetheart or dear or honey. Just in Russian.” He knew that much.
“But you have no idea?”
He glanced to where their hands were still linked. “It’s what my dedushka called Babushka when he was being sweet.” Which wasn’t terribly often. “It meant a lot to her when he said it. I guess, for us, it’s just another way for me to say I love you.”
Her eyes misted. “That’s way better than the prostitute one.”
Yeah, he thought so, too.
