[Carly Phillips] The Bachelor (The Chandler Brothe(Bookos.org) (1)

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The Bachelor

Carly Phillips

When Mrs. Chandler is rushed to the hospital due to what appears to be a heart attack (but turns out to be a bad case of heartburn), her three handsome, unmarried sons flock to her side, anxiously asking what they can do to make her feel better. Their mother opens her eyes and utters one word: “Grandbabies!”

Wanting to grant their ailing (or so they believe) mother her one wish before she departs for the sweet hereafter, the Chandler brothers start looking for wives.

Roman, the youngest of the brothers, takes a leave of absence from his job as a foreign correspondent to spend time with his mother while she recuperates. Having lost a coin toss with his brothers, he must be the first to become a married man with baby to abide by his mother’s wish. He is sure he’ll never find a woman sophisticated enough to satisfy him as his partner-in-life in the sleepy upstate New York town where his mother lives. Then he’s reacquainted with the woman who got away, the one woman he’s drawn back to, even as he’s planning his escape—Charlotte Bronson, the town’s newest entrepreneur.

Charlotte’s sexy lingerie shop has had a string of burglaries, and Roman agrees to investigate and report on the series of thefts, which puts him in close and frequent contact with the very beautiful and sophisticated owner. Soon, he discovers that Charlotte may just be the woman who can make all of his—and his mother’s—dreams come true.

Charlotte braced both hands against Roman’s shoulders.

“Your staying is not a good idea.”

“Then why does it feel like one?”

Waves of sensation rushed through her. “It feels good because there’s nothing rational about sex. But I’m being rational now. You can’t stay because you came over here to say good-bye.”

“And then I kissed you and realized there’s no way in hell I can walk away.”

“What? What are you saying?”

“There’s always been something between us. Something that won’t go away.” His blue eyes stared into hers. “If you’ve got the guts to take the risk and see where it leads, then so do I.”

“Ms. Phillips gives her fans something extra in her scrumptious tales that makes them keeper status.”

—Rendezvous

“Carly Phillips writes the best in hot, sexy romance today. . . . It’s impossible to put her books down.”

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—AOL Writers Club Romance Group

To Mom and Dad for making me believe I could do anything.

To Phil, who loves and supports me through everything.

And to Jackie and Jen, who make it all worthwhile.

Acknowledgments

To the people who made this book possible: Maureen Walters, agent extraordinaire, who believed in me from day one.

Beth De Guzman, for welcoming me with open arms; and Karen Kosztolnyik, for making the experience the best I could hope for!

Special Thanks

Thanks to the people who contributed their knowledge and answered endless questions: Lynda Sue Cooper, the cop expert, and Terri Hall, journalism expert. Any errors or fabrications are mine alone.

And last but by no means least, to the best critique partners a girl could have. To Kathy Attalla for your plotting brilliance and Janelle Denison for your panty thief expertise—without your endless patience and willingness to reread, I’d have lost it a long time ago!

PROLOGUE

You’re fit, Mrs. Chandler. The cardiogram is normal and so is your blood pressure. Nothing more than a bad case of indigestion. An antacid, some rest, and you should be fine.” The doctor slipped her stethoscope around her neck and made another notation in the chart.

Relief flowed through Raina Chandler as strong as the pain had ripped through her earlier. The fiery sensation in her chest and arm had caught her off guard. Ever since losing her husband to a heart attack at age thirty-seven, Raina had never taken unexpected pain lightly. She’d become health-conscious, watched her weight, and started an exercise routine of brisk walking she’d kept up through this very day.

At the first twinge of pain, she’d picked up the phone and called her oldest son. Not even the bad memories of sterile, antiseptic hospital smells or the depressing graying walls could deter her from taking care of her health. She had a mission to accomplish before she left this earth.

She glanced at the attractive young doctor who had met her at the Emergency Room. Any woman who looked good in drab hospital green had potential. “You’re new to this town, aren’t you?” But Raina already knew the answer before the other woman nodded.

She knew everyone in Yorkshire Falls, population 1,723, soon to be 1,724, when the editor of the local section of the Yorkshire Falls Gazette and his wife had their baby. Her general practitioner had been Dr.

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Eric Fallon, a close friend for years. Widowed like herself, Eric only recently had succumbed to the desire to enjoy life more and work less. As Eric’s new partner, Dr. Leslie Gaines was his answer to less stress.

She was new to town, and from Raina’s perspective that made her not just interesting, but fresh, potential wife material for her jaded sons. “Are you married?” Raina asked. “I hope you don’t mind my prying, but I’ve got three single sons, and—”

The doctor chuckled. “I’ve only been here a few weeks and already your sons’ reputations precede them, Mrs. Chandler.”

Raina’s chest swelled with pride. They were good men, her boys. They were her greatest joy and recently the source of continued frustration. Chase, her oldest, Rick, the town’s favorite cop, and Roman, her foreign correspondent and the baby brother, who was currently in London covering an economic summit.

“Now, Mrs. Chandler—”

“Raina,” she corrected and studied the good doctor. Nice laugh, sense of humor, and a protective nature. Raina immediately discounted the woman physician as a mate for Roman or Rick.

Her no-nonsense demeanor would bore Roman and a doctor’s hours would clash with Officer Rick’s.

But she could be just the right woman for her oldest son, Chase. Since taking over as publisher of the Yorkshire Falls Gazette for his father almost twenty years earlier, he’d become much too serious, bossy, and overprotective. Thank God he had his father’s handsome, chiseled face to make a decent first impression before he opened his mouth and started taking control. Good thing women loved a protective man and most single women in this town would marry Chase in a heartbeat. He was handsome, as were Rick and Roman.

Her goal was to marry off all three of her boys, and she would. But first they had to desire more from a woman than sex. Not that there was anything wrong with sex; in fact, it could be more than pleasant, she thought, remembering. But it was her sons’ mind-set that presented her with a problem. They were men .

And having raised them, Raina knew exactly how they thought. They rarely wanted any female for more than one night. The lucky women lasted a month, no longer. Finding willing women wasn’t the issue. With the Chandler good looks and appeal, women fell at their feet. But men, her sons included, wanted what they couldn’t have, and her boys had too much, too easily.

The lure of the forbidden and the fun of the chase was gone. Why should a man consider until death do us part when he had women willing to give it up without commitment? It wasn’t that Raina didn’t understand today’s generation. She did. But she’d also loved the trappings of a family life—and was smart enough to hold out for the whole package.

But in today’s world, a woman had to offer a man a challenge. Excitement. And even then, Raina sensed her boys would balk. Chandler men needed a special woman to pique their interest and keep it. Raina sighed. How ironic that she, a woman who held marriage and children as her ideal, raised three sons who thought the word bachelor was sacred. With their attitudes she’d never have the grandchildren she desired. They’d never have the happiness they deserved.

“Some instructions, Raina.” The doctor snapped her chart closed and glanced up. “I’d suggest keeping a bottle of antacid in the house, in case of emergencies. Often a cup of tea is the best remedy.”

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“No more late-night pizza deliveries, then?” She met the younger woman’s amused gaze.

“I’m afraid not. You’ll have to find another way of entertaining yourself.”

Raina pursed her lips. The things she endured for her future. For her boys. Speaking of whom, Chase and Rick would be back any second and the doctor hadn’t answered the most pressing question. Raina let her gaze slide up the doctor’s slender physique. “I don’t mean to push, but . . .”

Dr. Gaines grinned, obviously still amused. “I’m married. And even if I weren’t, I’m sure your sons would appreciate finding their own women.”

Raina tamped down her disappointment, then waved her hand in the air in response. “As if my boys would ever find their own women. Or should I say wives. Nothing short of a life-or-death emergency would force them to pick one woman and settle down. . . .” Raina’s voice trailed off as the import of her own words sank in.

Life-or-death emergency. The only thing that would convince her sons of the necessity to get married.

Her life-or-death emergency.

As the plan began to form, Raina’s conscience begged her to dismiss the idea. It was cruel to lead her sons to believe she was ill. On the other hand, it was for their own good. They couldn’t deny her anything, not when she truly needed them, and by playing on their good natures, she’d ultimately be leading them to happily ever after. Not that they’d know or appreciate it at first.

She gnawed on her lip. It was a risk. But without grandchildren, loneliness loomed large in her future, just as, without a wife or family, it loomed large for her sons. She wanted more for them than empty homes and emptier lives—the kind of life she’d had since her husband died.

“Doctor, my diagnosis here . . . it’s confidential?”

The younger woman shot her a slanted glance. No doubt she was used to that question with only the most dire of cases. Raina checked her watch. She was running out of time before the boys returned. Her newly formulated plan as well as her family’s future depended upon the woman’s answer, and Raina waited, tapping her foot impatiently.

“Yes, it’s confidential,” Dr. Gaines said with a good-natured laugh.

Raina relaxed a bit more. She hugged her cotton hospital gown closer. “Good. I’m sure you don’t want to have to evade my sons’ questions, so, thank you for everything.” She extended her hand for a polite shake, when she really wanted to shove the other woman through the curtain before the cavalry arrived with pointed questions.

“It was a pleasure and an experience meeting you. Dr. Fallon will be back in the office tomorrow. If you have any problems before then, don’t hesitate to call.”

“Oh, I won’t,” Raina said.

“So what’s the story?” Rick, the middle child no one had ever been able to ignore, barreled through the drawn curtain with Chase on his heels. Rick’s brash nature echoed his mother’s personality. His dark brown hair and hazel eyes resembled Raina’s before her hairdresser had gotten hold and changed her to Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

a honey-blond to obliterate the gray.

In contrast, Roman and Chase were the bookends with jet-black hair and blazing blue eyes. Both her oldest and youngest were the spitting image of their father. Their imposing builds and dark hair never failed to remind her of John. Only their personalities were uniquely their own.

Chase stood in front of his agitated sibling and faced the doctor head-on. “What’s going on?”

“I think your mother’s condition is something she’d like to explain herself,” the doctor said, then slipped beyond the awful multicolored curtain.

Ignoring the tug of guilt in favor of the greater good, and assuring herself they’d thank her in the end, Raina blinked back tears and placed a shaky hand over her heart. Then she explained her frail health and long-standing desire to her sons.

CHAPTER ONE

Roman Chandler glared at his oldest brother, or more accurately he glared at the quarter in Chase’s right hand. After getting the phone call about his mother’s heart problem, Roman had grabbed the first flight out of London. He’d flown into JFK Airport, taken a connecting flight to Albany, and then rented a car so he could drive an hour to his hometown of Yorkshire Falls, just outside of Saratoga Springs, New York. He was so tired even his bones ached from sheer exhaustion.

And now he could add stress to his problems. Thanks to his mother’s heart condition, one of the Chandler brothers would have to sacrifice his freedom in order to provide Raina with a grandchild. A coin toss would decide which brother would shoulder the burden, but only Rick and Roman would be involved. Having already done his family duty by giving up college to run the paper and help his mother raise his younger brothers, Chase wouldn’t take part in the toss—despite his argument to the contrary.

He’d wanted things equal. Rick and Roman had insisted he opt out.

He’d play executioner instead.

“Call it. Heads or tails,” Chase said.

Roman glanced at the unpainted ceiling, toward the upstairs of his childhood home where his mother was resting, as per doctor’s orders. Meanwhile, he and his brothers stood waiting on the dusty, dirt-smeared floor of the garage that was attached to the family house. The same garage where they’d stored their bikes and balls as kids, and where Roman had snuck beers when he thought his older brothers weren’t around. And the same house they’d been raised in and their mother still held on to, thanks to Chase’s hard work and his success with the newspaper.

“Come on, guys, someone call it,” Chase said in the wake of the surrounding silence.

“You don’t have to sound like you’re enjoying this,” Rick muttered.

“You think I’m enjoying this?” Chase twisted the coin between his fingers, frustration tugging at his lips.

“That’s bullshit. I sure as hell don’t want to see either of you lose the life you chose just because of some whim.”

Roman was certain his oldest brother felt so strongly because Chase hadn’t chosen his own life path.

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Instead he’d been thrust into the dual roles of publisher and parent overnight. At seventeen and the oldest sibling when their father died, Chase had felt a duty to take his father’s place as head of the family. And that was the motivating factor for Roman’s participation in the coin toss now. Roman had been the one to leave Yorkshire Falls and follow his dreams, while Chase had stayed behind and given up his.

Both Roman and Rick looked to Chase as their role model. If Chase thought their mother’s dire health and her deep desire for a grandchild warranted a sacrifice, then Roman had to agree. Not only did he owe his brother, he shared the same sense of devotion to family.

“It’s no whim Mom suffered,” Roman said to his siblings. “She said it’s a weak heart that can’t handle stress.”

“Or disappointment,” Rick said. “Mom didn’t use that word, but you know damn well she meant it.

We’ve disappointed her.”

Roman nodded in agreement. “So if grandchildren will make her happy, then it’s up to one of us to give her one to coddle while she’s still around to enjoy being a grandmother.”

“Knowing one of us is happily married will take the edge off that stress she’s supposed to avoid,” Chase said. “And a grandchild will give her life direction.”

“Can’t we just get her a puppy?” Rick asked.

Roman understood the sentiment. At thirty-one, his lifestyle precluded settling down. Marriage and family hadn’t been in the future. Until now. It wasn’t that Roman didn’t like women. He did. Hell, he loved women, how they smelled and how their soft skin felt gliding against his aroused body. But he couldn’t imagine giving up his career in favor of looking at the same female face across the breakfast table every day for the rest of his life. He shuddered, amazed that his life choices had come down to this one moment.

He turned to his middle brother. “Rick, you’ve tied the knot once. No need to do it again.” Though Roman had no desire to announce himself the man for the job, he couldn’t let his sibling repeat his past—marrying to help someone else while sacrificing himself in the process.

Rick shook his head. “Wrong, baby brother. I’ll take part in the coin toss. Last time has nothing to do with this. This is about family.”

Roman understood. The Chandlers were all about family. So he was back to where they left off. Would he return to his job as foreign correspondent for the Associated Press, continue to land in political hot spots and get the untold stories out to the rest of the world, or would he settle down in Yorkshire Falls the way he’d never planned? Though sometimes Roman wasn’t sure whose dream he was actually pursuing—his, Chase’s, or a combination of both—Roman lived in fear of replicating his brother’s life, of being closed in with no options.

But despite his churning stomach, he was ready and nodded in Chase’s direction. “Get it over with.”

“Whatever you say.” Chase flipped the coin high into the air.

Roman inclined his head toward Rick, giving him the choice, and Rick called out, “Heads.”

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the same way: the women he’d met and flirted with, the special ones who’d lasted long enough to constitute a relationship but not a life mate, the occasional hot, steamy encounter, less often now that he was older and more discriminating.

The sound of Chase’s palm slapping against his hand stunned Roman back into reality. He met his oldest brother’s solemn gaze.

A life change.

The death of a dream.

The severity of the situation hit Roman in the gut. He squared his shoulders and waited, while Rick sucked in an exaggerated breath.

Chase lifted his hand and glanced down, before meeting first Rick’s, then Roman’s gaze. Then he did the job the way he always did, without backing down. “Looks like you’ll be needing a drink about now, baby brother. You’re the sacrificial lamb in Mom’s quest for grandchildren.”

Rick heaved a heavy sigh that was nothing compared to the ball of lead sitting in Roman’s stomach.

Chase walked up beside Roman. “If you want out, now’s the time. No one’s going to hold it against you if you don’t want to do this.”

Roman forced a grin, emulating Chase at eighteen. “You think scoping out women and making babies is a tough assignment? By the time I’m through, you’re going to wish you were me.”

“Make sure she’s a babe,” Rick said helpfully, but no real humor tinged his words or tone. He obviously felt Roman’s pain, though his own relief at not being the chosen one was tangible.

Roman appreciated the attempt to lighten his mood, even if it didn’t work. “More important that she doesn’t expect too much,” he shot back. Any woman he married had to know up front who he was and accept what he wasn’t.

Chase slapped him on the back. “I’m proud of you, kid. This is a once-in-a-lifetime decision. Be certain you can live with her, okay?”

“I don’t plan to live with anyone,” Roman muttered.

“Then what do you plan?” Rick asked.

“A nice long-distance marriage that doesn’t change my life much at all. I want to find someone who’s willing to stay at home and raise the kid, who’ll be happy seeing me whenever I can make it back.”

“You’ve got enough baggage as it is, is that it?” Rick asked.

Roman scowled at him. His attempt at mood-lightening had gone too far. “Actually, we had a damn good life while growing up and I want to make sure anyone I marry can provide the same thing for my kid.”

“So you go on the road, the wife stays home.” Chase shook his head. “You’d better watch your attitude. You don’t want to scare potential candidates off too early in the search.”

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“There’s no chance of that happening.” Rick chuckled. “There wasn’t a girl in high school who didn’t lust after the kid, before he left for a life of adventure.”

Despite the situation, Roman laughed. “Only after you graduated. Yours were big shoes to fill.”

“That goes without saying.” Rick folded his arms over his chest and grinned. “But fair’s fair. I had to walk in Chase’s footsteps, and they were huge. Girls loved his strong, silent bit. But once he graduated, they turned their sights on me.” He tapped his chest. “And once I was gone, the field was open for you.

And they were all interested.”

Not all. Without warning, the memory of his high school infatuation resurfaced, as it often did. A beautiful girl with jet-black hair and green eyes, Charlotte Bronson had made his teenage hormones run wild. Her stinging rejection lived within him, as sharp now as it had been back then. He considered her the one who’d gotten away, and he’d never forgotten her. Though Roman would like to label it a teenage crush and leave it there, truth dictated he admit his feelings had run deep.

Not that he’d admitted it aloud to his brothers then, nor would he now. A man had to keep some things private.

Last Roman had heard, Charlotte had moved to New York City, the fashion capital of the world.

Though he shared a rent-controlled apartment in the same city, he’d never run into her, nor had he looked her up. Roman was rarely in town long enough to do more than sleep one night, change clothes, and head out again to his next destination.

He hadn’t heard any gossip from his mother lately, and curiosity won out now. “Charlotte Bronson back in town?” he asked.

Rick and Chase exchanged surprised glances. “She sure is,” Rick said. “Owns a little business on First.”

“And she’s single,” Chase added with a smile at last.

Roman’s adrenaline kicked in hard and fast. “What kind of business?”

“Why don’t you stop by and see for yourself?” Rick asked.

The notion tempted him. Roman wondered what Charlotte was like now. If she was still as quiet and sincere as she’d been way back when. If her jet-black hair still hung down her back, tempting a man to touch. He was curious to know if her green eyes were still expressive and open, providing a window to her soul for anyone who cared enough to look.

He’d cared and had been shot down for his effort. “Has she changed much?”

“Go have a look.” Chase added his prompting to Rick’s. “You can call it your first chance at scoping out potential candidates.”

As if Charlotte would be interested. She’d walked away with ease after their one date and let him move on, apparently without an ounce of remorse. Roman had never believed her proclamation of disinterest, and he didn’t think it was his ego talking. The sparks had been strong enough to light the entire town, the chemistry so hot an explosion had threatened. But sexual attraction wasn’t the only thing they’d shared.

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future, something he’d never done before. Revealing such an intimate part of his soul had left him open for hurt and made her rejection that much more painful, he realized now, thanks to the adult wisdom he’d lacked in his youth.

“Maybe I will look her up.” Roman remained deliberately vague. He didn’t want to give his brothers any more indication of his renewed curiosity in Charlotte Bronson. Especially when he needed a different kind of woman, one who’d agree to his plan.

He let out a groan, recalling why this conversation had begun in the first place. His mother wanted grandchildren. And Roman would do his best to give them to her. But that didn’t mean he could provide a spouse with all the strangling emotions and expectations a typical marriage entailed. He was a man who needed his freedom. He wasn’t a husband for all seasons. His potential wife would have to want kids more than a husband and enjoy being on her own. An independent woman who adored children would do just fine.

Because Roman intended to get married, get his wife pregnant, and get the hell out, while doing his damnedest not to look back.

Sunshine shone through the plate-glass storefront window, bathing Charlotte in incredible warmth and heat. A perfect setting for the tropical display she was setting up. She tied the back of a string bikini around the mannequin that would be featured prominently in the window, and turned it toward her assistant. “So what do you think?”

Beth Hansen, also Charlotte’s best friend since childhood, chuckled. “I wish I were built so fine.”

“You are now.” Charlotte glanced at Beth’s petite figure and enhanced breasts.

Yorkshire Falls was a small town, four hours from New York City—far enough to remain a small town, but close enough to make travel to the big city worthwhile if the reason was good enough. Apparently bust alteration was good enough reason for Beth.

“And you could be. You don’t even need to use too much imagination.” Beth pointed to the mannequin.

“Take a look at her and imagine yourself like this.” She outlined the curvaceous shape with her hands.

“An uplift would be a start, but an extra cup size would do even more to attract male attention.”

Charlotte exhaled an exaggerated sigh. “Considering the interest this store’s been getting, I don’t need help attracting more attention of any kind.”

As for men, she hadn’t had a date since her New York City days six months before, and though she was sometimes lonely, she wasn’t ready to begin the dating routine again—the long meals with drawn-out silences or the obligatory good-night kiss in which she inevitably had to grab her date’s wandering hand before any real groping could begin. Although, if she were ever to complete her life with a husband and kids added to her career, she’d have to get back into the dating game one day soon.

“Every woman needs more male attention. It’s an ego boost and who can argue with that?”

Charlotte frowned. “I’d rather a man be—”

“Interested in your mind instead of your face or body,” Beth parroted, hands on her hips.

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Charlotte nodded. “That’s right. And I’d give any man the same respect in return.” She grinned. “Am I beginning to sound like a broken record?”

“Maybe a little.”

“Tell me something. Why is it the men who attract me are only interested in the packaging and don’t stick around for the long haul?” Charlotte asked.

“Because you’ve dated the wrong men? Or maybe it’s because you don’t give them a chance. Besides, it’s a proven fact that the packaging attracts a man first. A smart guy, the right guy, will get to know you and then you can blow him away with your brilliant brainpower.”

“Men who go for looks first are too shallow.”

“There you go again. Jumping to generalized conclusions. And I beg to differ.” Beth placed her hands on her hips and scowled Charlotte’s way. “It’s the packaging that makes the first impression,” she insisted.

Charlotte wondered why Beth could assert one thing when she was living proof of another. If Beth believed in a man being attracted to packaging first and then getting to know and appreciating a woman for who and what she was, why had she undergone plastic surgery after meeting her fiancé? Charlotte cared too much for her friend to hurt her by asking.

“Look at this store, for example.” Beth waved a hand through the air. “You sell the packaging, and hence you’re responsible for the rejuvenation of many relationships and marriages that have gotten stale.”

“I can’t argue with you there.” Charlotte had been told the same thing by many of her customers.

Beth grinned. “Half the women in this town are getting lucky, thanks to you.”

“I wouldn’t go that far.”

Her friend shrugged. “Whatever. The point is, aren’t you sending the message that packaging is important?”

“I’d rather think I’m sending the message that it’s okay to be yourself.”

“I think we’re saying the same thing, but I’ll drop it for now. Did I tell you David offers packages? Eyes and chin, uplifts and implants.”

Charlotte rolled her eyes. As far as she was concerned, Beth had been perfect before going under the knife, and Charlotte still didn’t understand what had compelled her to think she needed to change. And Beth obviously wasn’t talking. Just advertising her soon-to-be husband’s services.

“Has anyone mentioned you’re beginning to sound like an advertisement for your plastic surgeon?”

Beth smiled. “But of course. I plan to marry the man. Why not boost his business and our joint bank account at the same time?”

Beth’s mercenary words were at odds with the sweet, down-to-earth woman Charlotte knew her to be.

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born and raised in Yorkshire Falls. And like Charlotte had once done, Beth would move to New York City soon. Charlotte hoped her friend enjoyed the bright lights and big city. She remembered her own experience there with mixed feelings. At first, she’d loved the busy streets, the frantic pace, the glow of light and life even late at night. But once the newness faded, an emptiness grew. After living in a close-knit community like Yorkshire Falls, the loneliness had been overwhelming. Something Beth wouldn’t have to deal with, since she was moving to New York to be with her husband.

“You know I’m never going to be able to replace you,” Charlotte said wistfully. “You’re the perfect assistant.” When Charlotte had decided to leave her sales manager job at a posh New York City boutique and open Charlotte’s Attic back home, it hadn’t taken more than one phone call to convince Beth to leave her job as a receptionist at a real estate office to come work with Charlotte.

“I’m going to miss you too. This job has been more rewarding than anything else I’ve done.”

“That’s because you’re finally putting your talent to use.”

“Thanks to your vision. This place is incredible.”

Charlotte merely blushed. She’d been worried about a chic boutique succeeding in her small, upstate hometown. It was Beth who’d pushed and supported her emotionally during the preopening stages.

Charlotte’s concern had been unwarranted. Thanks to television, the Internet, and magazines, Yorkshire Falls’ women were ready for fashion. Her store was a hit—if somewhat of an oddity among the old-time shops that still remained.

“Speaking of talent, I’m so glad we chose this aqua color instead of black.” Beth fingered the strings tied tightly around the back of the mannequin.

“It’s the exact color of the water off the Fiji Islands. The Koro Sea, and the South Pacific Ocean.”

Charlotte closed her eyes and envisioned the setting depicted in the brochures she had in her backroom office.

Not that she planned to travel, but the dream of faraway places had beckoned to her for as long as she could remember. As a young girl, pictures of idyllic resorts nurtured her hope that her errant father would return and share what she’d perceived as his glamorous life. Today she couldn’t squelch the occasional urge to see exotic places, but she feared that desire made her too much like her father—selfish, shallow, and ungiving—so she settled for photos instead. Like the ones in her office portraying glistening water, white frothing waves, and hot sun heating bare skin.

“Not to mention the aqua color will complement the rest of the summer window display?”

Beth’s voice intruded on Charlotte’s thoughts and she opened one eye. “That too. Now be quiet and let me return to my daydream.” But the spell had been broken.

“It’s hard to get used to looking at bathing suits when we’re just coming off winter.”

“I know.” Besides luxurious and basic undergarments, Charlotte also sold some fashionable eclectic pieces—sweaters in the winter, bathing suits and matching cover-ups in the summer. “But the fashion world works on its own schedule.”

And so did Charlotte. The cold air had barely begun to give way to a slight March warming trend, but Charlotte dressed for the summer season anyway, in shockingly bright colors and light fabrics. What had Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

started as a bid to lure people into her store had worked. Now word of mouth brought people to her store, and she’d grown to love the clothes she wore.

“I was thinking we could put the bathing suits in the right-hand corner of the display,” Charlotte told Beth.

“Sounds like a good plan.”

Charlotte dragged the mannequin toward the window overlooking First Avenue, Yorkshire Falls’ main strip. She’d been fortunate in nabbing the perfect location, formerly Guy’s Clothing Store. Charlotte wasn’t worried about putting another retail store in the space because her merchandise kept up with the times. She’d had six months at the old rental before a rent increase kicked in, time enough to get her business off the ground, and her success told her she was on the right track.

“Listen, I’m starving. I’m going to grab some dinner next door. Want to join me?” Beth grabbed her jacket off the rack in the back and slipped it on.

“No, thanks. I think I’ll stick around and put some finishing touches on the window display.” Charlotte and Beth had accomplished an almost complete overhaul of inventory today. It was easier to get things done when the store was closed than during business hours. The customers didn’t just enjoy shopping, they enjoyed chitchat as well.

Beth sighed. “Suit yourself. But your social life is pathetic. Even I’m better company than those mannequins.”

Charlotte started to laugh, then glanced at Beth and saw something more in her friend’s eyes than a good joke. “You miss him, don’t you?”

Beth nodded. Her fiancé had come up almost every weekend, staying Friday through Sunday night before returning to the city for the work week. Since he’d missed this weekend, Charlotte figured Beth probably wasn’t looking forward to another lonely meal.

Neither was Charlotte. “You know what? Go get a table and I’ll meet you there in five . . .” Her voice trailed off as she caught sight of a man outside the window.

Jet-black hair gleamed in the sunlight and a pair of sexy sunglasses were perched on the bridge of his nose, obscuring his face from view. A worn denim jacket covered his broad shoulders, and jeans hugged his long legs. Charlotte’s stomach did a flip, bringing a warm sensation to her belly as recognition flickered with possibility.

She blinked, certain she’d been mistaken, but he’d backed far enough away that he was gone from view. She shook her head. Impossible, she thought. Everyone in town knew Roman Chandler was off traveling and reporting the news. Charlotte had always respected his ideals, the burning desire to expose unreported injustices, even if she didn’t understand the needs that kept him far from home.

His aspirations had always reminded her of her actor father’s. So had his good looks and charm. A wink, a smile, and women swooned at his feet. Heck, she’d swooned, and after a lot of flirting and lingering looks, they’d gone on their first date. One night—a night in which she’d connected with Roman on a meaningful level. She’d fallen hard and fast, as only a teenage girl could. And a night during which she’d discovered Roman’s intention to leave Yorkshire Falls as soon as the opportunity arose.

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Charlotte’s father had abandoned his wife and child for Hollywood years before. With Roman’s declaration, she’d immediately recognized the devastation he could leave in his wake.

She had only to look to her mother’s lonely life to find the nerve to act on her conviction. She’d walked away from Roman that same night, lying that he didn’t “do it” for her. And she hadn’t let herself look back, no matter how badly she hurt—and she had hurt.

Look, don’t touch. Smart rules for a girl who wanted her heart and soul intact. She might not feel like dating now, but when the right man showed himself, she would. Until then, she’d abide by her rules. She had no intention of following the same path her mother had taken, waiting for the wanderer to sporadically return, so she wouldn’t involve herself with a restless soul like Roman Chandler. Not that she had to worry about such a thing. No way was he in town, and if he were, he’d steer clear of her.

Beth’s hand on her shoulder caught her by surprise and she jumped.

“Hey, you okay?”

“Fine. I just got distracted.”

Beth flicked her blond hair out from beneath her collar, then opened the door to the street. “Okay, then.

I’ll grab a table and see you in a few minutes.” She let the door close behind her and Charlotte turned back to the mannequin, determined to finish the job—and calm down—before heading out to dinner.

There was no way Roman was back in town, she told herself. No way at all.

CHAPTER TWO

Dusk was setting on the horizon when Roman entered Norman’s Garden Restaurant, named in part for Norman Hanover senior, who’d first opened the place, and in part for the gardens across the street.

Norman’s was now run by Norman, junior, owner and chef. The morning after the coin toss and his first full day back in Yorkshire Falls, Roman slept in, then kept himself busy playing cards with his mother and making sure she stayed off her feet. He’d also spent the time pondering an offer that had been relayed to him that morning from the Washington Post to take over an editorial job in D.C.

Any journalist would kill for the position, Roman knew. Though he had to admit he might enjoy the political intrigue and change of pace, settling in one place had never been on his agenda. He’d done his share of traveling, but there was more to see, more news to report, and injustices to expose—though with the corruption in Washington, D.C., Roman figured he wouldn’t be bored there.

He doubted he’d feel as confined living in the nation’s capital as he had in his small hometown, and might even have taken the offer more seriously had he not lost the coin toss. Now that he had a potential wife to contend with, one who’d undoubtedly want to live with a husband who made his home within the United States, he had good reason not to take the job. At this point a return abroad sounded even more appealing.

By early evening, his mother had dozed in front of the television and Roman had finally been able to leave the house knowing she was resting and he didn’t have to worry about her trying to overdo.

Because it was late, he walked quickly through town until color in a storefront window—lots of vibrant color—caught his eye, causing him to stop and check out the change. He squinted for a better look, Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

bringing him nose to glass with women’s lingerie.

Frilly, sexy nighties, garters, and whatever else the opposite sex wore to attract a man—and he’d seen plenty of those getups in his time—decorated the display. The items in the window were sensual and decadent, including enticing animal prints.

Apparently some things in his small hometown had changed. As he wondered who was responsible for knocking conservatism to its knees, last night’s conversation with his brothers came back to him. Is Charlotte Bronson back in town? he’d asked them.

Owns a little business on First. . . . Stop by and see for yourself. His brothers’ replies had been deliberately vague, definitely amused, Roman thought now.

He allowed himself another glance at the provocative panties in the window and shook his head hard.

No way Charlotte Bronson owned this shop. The Charlotte he remembered had been more quiet than outgoing, more innately sensual than overtly sexy. The combination had always intrigued him, but regardless, her personality type didn’t strike him as one who’d open such an enticing and erotic shop. Or would she?

A horn honked, jerking Roman back into reality, and he turned to see Chase’s truck pull into an empty spot down the street. He glanced at his watch. Rick would already be inside. Plenty of time to check out the shop after he met up with his brothers. He headed into the restaurant and strode to the back, bypassing the tables by the windows up front.

Roman met Rick by the old jukebox machine, which featured the jazzy reggae beat of the newest hit on the charts. He glanced around, taking in the familiar atmosphere. “Except for the music, nightlife in Yorkshire Falls is as exciting as ever.”

Rick shrugged. “Did you really expect things to change?”

“I guess not.” Even the decor was the same, he noted. Thanks to Norman senior’s obsession with bird-watching, the restaurant’s motif was comprised of wooden hand-painted birdhouses lining the walls, while pictures of varying species in their natural habitat hung in between.

The place had been and still was home to the older teens seeking independence from their parents, the singles in town, and the families needing a bite after Little League practice. Tonight, the patrons included the Chandler brothers. After living out of hotels for weeks on end and rarely seeing his New York apartment, let alone his family, Roman had to admit coming home felt good.

“Just tell me the burgers are as good as I remember and I’ll be a happy man.”

Rick laughed. “Takes so little to make you happy.”

“What would it take to make you happy, Rick?” Years had passed since Rick’s marriage ended in a devastating divorce, his wife leaving him for another man. To his credit, Rick had remained the happy-go-lucky brother, but Roman often wondered what pain he hid inside.

Rick folded his arms across his chest. “I’m already a satisfied man.”

After all Rick had been through, Roman hoped his brother meant what he said.

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“Hi, handsome. What can I get for you?” a high-pitched female voice asked.

Roman rose to give Isabelle, Norman’s sixty-year-old wife and everyone’s favorite waitress, a swift hug.

She smelled like a unique mixture of home cooking and the good old-fashioned grease Norman used in the kitchen when she wasn’t looking.

He stepped back. “Good to see you, Izzy.”

She smiled. “Your mother’s over the moon that you’re home.”

He settled himself back into the chair. “Yeah, just wish the reason were different.”

“Your mom’s a tough one. She’ll be fine. Norman and I sent over enough prepacked meals to get her through the week.”

“You’re the best.”

She grinned. “Don’t I know it. So what can I get you? Cheeseburger deluxe?”

Roman laughed. “You’ve got a memory like an elephant.”

“Only when it comes to my favorite customers.” She shot Roman a wink, then turned to Rick. “Steak and mashed potatoes, that I know. Soda tonight, Officer?”

Rick nodded. “I’m on duty.”

“I’ll have the same.”

“So what are you up to while you’re home?” Izzy asked.

“One day at a time. Tonight I’ll see if Chase needs any help while I’m around.”

She stuck her pen behind her ear. “You Chandler boys work too hard.”

Rick shrugged. “It’s the way we were raised, Izzy.”

“That reminds me. Put a burger up for Chase. He’ll be here any minute,” Roman said.

“I’m here now.” His older brother came up behind Izzy.

“Perfect timing. One cheese, one burger, and a steak. You have a seat and I’ll bring your drinks.”

Isabelle started to leave.

“Coke for me, Izzy.” Chase shrugged off his jacket and hung it over the back of the chair, then settled into his seat. “So what’d I miss?”

“Rick was telling me how happy he was with his life,” Roman said wryly.

“He ought to be. You’d be amazed, the predicaments the women in this town find themselves in just so they have an excuse to call and have the cop come to their rescue,” Chase said. “We could donate a full page of the paper to Officer Rick’s exploits.”

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Roman smirked. “I’m sure he doesn’t find it a hardship, do you?”

“No more than Chase finds it tough fending off the women with picnic baskets who try to coax him out of the office and onto his back. I mean onto the picnic blanket.” Rick laughed and eased back in the vinyl-covered chair, satisfaction etched on his face. “So many women, so little time.”

Roman laughed. “But there’s a bigger choice outside of Yorkshire Falls. How come you never made the move?” He always wondered why his middle brother was content policing the small town when he could make better, more varied use of his talents in a big city.

Lord knew, during the summers Roman had spent reporting for Chase, he’d felt confined by the small and often trivial stories he’d been assigned, while the outside world pulled at him, beckoning him toward bigger and better . . . what, exactly, he hadn’t known at the time. He still wasn’t sure what the draw was, but he wondered if his brother ever felt similar dissatisfaction, or the pull to move on.

“Roman? Roman Chandler? Is that you?”

Apparently he wouldn’t be getting his answers anytime soon. He pushed his chair back, glanced up, and found himself face-to-face with one of his old high school girlfriends.

“Beth Hansen?” He rose from his seat.

She squealed with excitement and wrapped her arms around his neck. “It is you. How are you? And how’d I miss the fact that you were home?”

“With my mom out of commission, things are a little slow on the gossip mill.” He returned the friendly hug and stepped back to look her over.

Professionally touched-up blond hair fell to her shoulders, well styled and making her look more chic and less like the relaxed, California-type girl he remembered. And was it his imagination, or had her breasts grown tremendously since he’d been gone?

“I heard about Raina. Is she okay?” Beth asked.

He nodded. “She will be, if she takes it easy and listens to the doctor.” And she’d be even better if Roman married and impregnated a woman as soon as possible. No way could Roman think of his mission in terms less than clinical, not when love and desire had nothing to do with it.

He appraised Beth once more, this time as a potential candidate. He’d always liked her, which would help in accomplishing his goal. They’d been good friends, nothing more, but back in high school, he’d asked her out anyway. They’d gone out a few times and had had sex in the backseat of Chase’s car—because she was willing and he’d been horny. But mostly because he’d been in desperate need of ego-soothing after Charlotte Bronson’s rejection. If he didn’t “do it” for Charlotte, he’d decided he was damn well going to “do it” for Beth.

And that had been all male ego, he admitted now. But he and Beth had stayed together till graduation because it was fun and easy, going their separate ways after. Neither had been hurt and their camaraderie obviously remained.

“Give Raina my love, okay?” Beth asked.

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“Will do.”

“So how long are you here for this time?” Her bright eyes sparkled with curiosity.

Beth didn’t attract him like Charlotte had, but she had a good heart. Was she still interested? Roman wondered. And if so, would she settle for a friendly but loveless marriage? He leaned closer. “How long do you want me here?”

She laughed and punched him in the shoulder. “You’re still such a tease. Everyone knows you don’t stick around any longer than you have to.”

From behind him, Chase cleared his throat, a noise that sounded more like a warning. “Give Beth congratulations, Roman. She’s gotten herself engaged to a big-city doctor. A plastic surgeon.”

Roman gave his brother a grateful smile for the heads-up before he made a bigger ass of himself by actually making a move on Beth.

“I hope he knows what a lucky guy he is.” Roman grasped her hands, noticing for the first time the huge rock on her finger. “Wow. I hope his heart is as big as this ring. You deserve it.”

She looked at him through honest eyes. “That’s the sweetest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”

If that was the sweetest, her fiancé had to work on his delivery, Roman thought.

“Listen, I’ve got to go take my seat. Don’t want to lose our table.” She gave him a friendly kiss on the cheek. “Don’t be a stranger while you’re in town, okay?”

“Okay.”

He slipped back into his seat, hoping his brothers would forget that he’d obviously been scoping out Beth as a potential candidate. He watched as she walked away and settled into a table out of earshot before glancing back at Rick and Chase.

The brothers looked at each other, neither breaking the silence until Rick let out a smothered laugh.

“You hope his heart is as big as that ring?”

Roman grinned. “What other comparison was there?” Without stating the obvious, he thought.

“For a minute there I thought you were going to mention the size of her . . . Never mind.” Rick shook his head, an amused grin still on his face.

“You know I have more class than that.”

“Think they were worth ten grand?” Chase asked. “Not that her fiancé charged her or anything.”

“They were . . . impressive,” Roman said.

“Obviously impressive enough to make you consider taking the plunge.” One side of Chase’s mouth lifted in a smirk.

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So much for hoping they’d back off. They’d always been good-natured jokers, that much hadn’t changed. “So I considered her for a minute. I was falling back on the good times we had, not the size of her . . . You get the picture.”

The brothers all nodded in agreement.

Izzy stopped by with their drinks, ending that conversation.

“How ’bout Alice Magregor?” Chase asked as soon as Izzy was out of earshot. “She came by the paper the other day with a home-cooked meal in a picnic basket and a bottle of Merlot. When I wasn’t interested, she asked about Rick. There’s an obvious sign she’s looking to settle down.”

“With you two,” Roman muttered. There wasn’t a single available woman in Yorkshire Falls who hadn’t attempted to bait and entice both Chase and Rick with her wares—baked and otherwise. “Wasn’t Alice the one with the big hair?”

“That was her,” Rick said.

“I don’t remember her being interested in more than hairstyles and makeup,” he recalled. And even if her hair had calmed down, he didn’t remember anything they had in common. “I need intelligent conversation,” Roman said. “Can she hold up her end, or is she still into the superficial?”

Chase groaned. “Roman’s right. There is a reason she’s still single in a town that pairs up right after graduation.”

Roman grabbed the cold, damp glass. “I’ve got to get this right the first time.” He leaned his head backward, feeling the blood rush to his temples, before he lifted his head and met his brother’s gaze. “I need to pick someone Mom will like too. She wants a grandchild for emotional reasons, but she also wants to feel a part of things again. I mean, the people in this town were good to her after Dad died, but let’s face it, she became the widow no one knew what to do with.”

“She epitomized every wife’s greatest fear,” Chase added.

“Speaking of Mom . . . I just want to make sure you two remember the deal. Either of you blow the whistle on this plan and snitch to Mom, and I’m on the first plane out of here, leaving you two to hold the bag. You got it?”

Rick let out a low growl. “You sure know how to take all the fun out of winning the coin toss.”

Roman never let his glare waver until Rick finally conceded. “Yeah, yeah. My lips are sealed.”

Chase shrugged. “Mine too, but you do realize she’s going to be forcing women down all three of our throats until Roman unveils the bride.”

“That’s the price you pay for being single,” Roman reminded them.

“Then we’d better get serious before Mom’s up and around town again. Marianne Diamond?” Chase asked.

“Engaged to Fred Aames,” Rick said.

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“The fat kid everyone made fun of.” Fat Freddy, Roman remembered now.

“Except you. You beat up Luther Hampton for stealing his lunch. I was too proud of you to give a shit that you’d gotten suspended,” Chase recalled.

“So what’s Fred up to now?” Roman asked.

“Well, he’s not Fat Freddy anymore, that’s for sure,” Chase said.

“Well, good for him. Overweight’s unhealthy.”

“He followed in his old man’s footsteps. He’s got his own plumbing business. Everyone in town likes him and you started the trend.” Rick sucked down the last of his soda with a loud slurp.

Roman shrugged. “I can’t believe you two remembered that.”

“There’s other things I remember too,” Chase said, a combination of humor and seriousness in his big-brotherly gaze.

“Dinner, boys.” Izzy had arrived with their meals. The mouthwatering aromas of Norman’s burger and fries reminded Roman his stomach was empty. He snagged a fry before she’d had a chance to put the plate in front of him and popped it into his mouth. “My compliments to the chef. His staple items are the best.”

“Enough with the fancy words. Just make sure you finish what’s on your plate. That’s the only compliment Norman needs.” She said she’d be back with refills on the drinks, and disappeared once more.

“Now, where were we?” Chase asked.

Roman took a bite of his burger without waiting for Chase to finish with the ketchup. He chewed and swallowed.

“Discussing women.” Rick dove right in to the topic at hand.

“But looks like you’re in for another reunion first,” Chase said before any of them could offer another candidate.

Roman turned in his seat and saw a woman walking down the aisle of the restaurant, a vision in a tangerine-colored skirt and low-necked tank, with lustrous black hair falling past her shoulders.

A rush of familiarity hit him in the gut at the same time Rick leaned close and whispered in his ear.

“Charlotte Bronson.”

The moment Roman focused on her face, he knew Rick was right. The warmth spreading through him made sense now, he thought, studying her. Her body was no longer a girl’s but that of a woman—lush, full, and oh-so-tempting. Her porcelain skin was still as radiant, her smile as vibrant, as he remembered, and the tug of a full-fledged grin pulled at his mouth. She’d always made him smile just by being in a room, and that hadn’t changed. But she had. More cosmopolitan clothes and a more confident stride, she’d obviously grown into herself.

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His high school crush had become one hell of a beautiful woman. His mouth grew dry and beneath the table, he had one hell of an erection he’d never be able to hide. This woman always had the damnedest effect on him, Roman thought, and his pulse kicked into high gear as he waited for her to stop at his table.

All the while, Rick muttered in his ear, reminding Roman of why he’d hated having big brothers. “Five, four, three, two . . .”

And just when she’d have to stop and acknowledge him, she cut a sharp right turn and headed for the table where Beth had settled in to wait.

He groaned and turned back to face the firing squad he called his siblings.

“Looks like she’s going to make you work for it, little brother.”

Hadn’t she always?

Chase laughed. “Bet you’re not used to being ignored. It’s got to be hell on the ego.”

“Shut the hell up,” Roman muttered. He hadn’t forgotten that one night in high school. Though he’d always considered Charlotte the one that got away, he’d never forced the issue between them. It wasn’t that he was afraid of hard work or even another rejection. He’d always had the inclination to pursue her; he’d just never had the time.

Things had changed. Back for a prolonged stay, Roman was no longer content to let her deliberately ignore him. It was time to push the issue.

Roman had returned. Charlotte’s stomach churned; disbelief and shock rippled through her. Her initial glimpse through the store window and the hunch she’d tried to ignore hadn’t prepared her for the impact of seeing him again.

Drat the man anyway. No one on God’s green earth had the ability to affect her the way he had. One look, and she felt like a hormonal teenager all over again.

The passage of time had affected his good looks—for the better. Age had defined him in incredible ways. His face was leaner, more chiseled, and, if possible, his eyes were a more striking shade of blue.

She shook her head. She’d been too far away to know for sure—at first because she’d been in front of the restaurant, giving him time alone with Beth, and afterward because her palms were sweating and she was mortified she couldn’t regain her composure.

But Charlotte was certain one thing about Roman hadn’t changed—his reporter’s instincts. With one glance, he not only saw, he dissected. And she didn’t want him dissecting her.

“Your hands are shaking,” Beth said.

Charlotte took another hefty sip of the soda her friend had ordered for her. “It’s the caffeine.”

“I think it’s testosterone overload.”

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Somehow Charlotte managed to keep from spitting her cola at a grinning Beth. “You mean hormone overload?”

“Whichever. That table of hunky male flesh has you hot and bothered.” She gestured with a flip of her hand toward the corner occupied by the Chandler brothers.

“Don’t point,” Charlotte said.

“Why not? Everyone else in Norman’s is staring at them.”

“That’s true,” she said, then realized she’d missed her opportunity to deny having seen them. Ignoring the brothers had been her plan. At least until she’d eaten something and steeled her defenses against Roman’s unsettling impact.

She folded her damp palms, one on top of the other. “But not me. I’m immune.”

“You always were. Or you pretended to be,” Beth said with the wisdom she’d lacked in her youth. “Not that I understand in the least.” She shook her head. “Never had, never will.”

Charlotte hadn’t ever told her best friend the truth about why she’d rejected Roman. In high school, she’d had her defenses a mile high, and next thing she knew, Roman had turned from Charlotte’s rejection to Beth’s willing arms. Despite the pain and the jealousy, Charlotte had encouraged her friend’s interest, pretending to be immune, as Beth had just said. Then they’d graduated and Roman had taken off for parts unknown.

Charlotte hadn’t asked how serious their relationship had been. She often told herself it was out of respect for Beth’s privacy, but the truth was more selfish than that. Charlotte hadn’t wanted to know.

And unlike the news of her plastic surgery, Beth had been discreet on the topic of Roman.

But times had changed and Beth was engaged to another man now. Roman was so far in her past, Charlotte contemplated tackling the topic tonight.

“He’s still really good looking,” Beth said.

Charlotte changed her mind about a heart-to-heart talk. “Hey. If you’re still interested in Roman, have at him. If Dr. Implant doesn’t mind, then I don’t.”

“Liar.” Beth tossed her napkin on the table and folded her arms across her chest, a smile pulling at her lips. “I saw the way you looked him over before he turned and noticed you. And I saw how you shifted your gaze and walked right by, like you didn’t even see him there.”

Charlotte twisted uncomfortably in her seat. “Is it too late to ask, see who where?”

“Chicken.”

“We all have our weakness, so quit ruffling my feathers. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go to the ladies’ room.” Charlotte made a quick escape without a glance in Roman Chandler’s direction. But as soon as she hit the narrow hallway that led to the restrooms, she wiped her damp palms against her gauzy skirt.

Five minutes later she’d touched up her lipstick and reminded herself of all her achievements, so if she Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

absolutely had to make polite conversation with Roman, she’d be able to do so with poise and ease.

With a new attitude, she pushed open the door and walked smack into Roman’s broad chest. The incredible scent of musky aftershave and potent male surrounded her. Aroused her. She sucked in a surprised breath.

As she stepped back on unsteady feet, he grabbed her forearms with both hands. “Easy.”

Easy? Was he kidding? His palms felt warm, solid, and too good on her bare skin. She looked up into his blue eyes. “This is the ladies’ room,” she said inanely. She sighed. So much for poise, sparkling conversation, and wit.

“No, this is the hallway. The ladies’ room is behind you and the men’s room is down the hall.” He grinned. “I should know. I practically grew up here.”

“I need to get back to my table. Beth’s waiting. Beth Hansen, you remember her, right?” Charlotte rolled her eyes This was getting worse and worse.

To her chagrin, he laughed. “Well, at least now I know you remember me.”

She didn’t pretend to misunderstand him and couldn’t bring herself to lie. “I was late, in a rush, Beth was waiting.” She lifted her hands, then let them fall to her sides.

“So you didn’t mean to ignore me.”

A burning flush rose to her face. “No. I . . . I have to go. Beth’s waiting for me. Again.”

His rough hand brushed her cheek and a tremor of awareness shot through her body, a quiver he couldn’t possibly miss. “I’ll let you get back to your table as soon as I ask you a question. It’s been ten years and the attraction between us is still going strong. When are you going to give in?”

When hell freezes over came to mind, but she clamped her mouth shut. Because she didn’t really mean it, for one thing, and because he didn’t deserve such a crushing rejection, for another.

She licked her dry lips. “When are you going to give up trying?”

He grinned. “When hell freezes over.”

He would have to mimic her thoughts. She leaned back against the wall for support and protection, but it meant little when Roman took another step forward, locking her body between the wall and his lean, hard, masculine frame.

Years melted away as his hands bracketed either side of her head and his lips hovered near her jaw. The warmth of his breath against her cheek and the pressure of his body against hers felt tantalizingly good, making her wonder why she’d resisted him for so long. Her eyelashes fluttered closed and she allowed herself to enjoy the erotic sensations pulsing through her veins. For the moment, she reminded herself. No longer.

He was attractive and out of reach, like the exotic destinations she researched and dreamed about but would never visit. Because she wasn’t her father and her life was here. Stability and a solid future were tied to this town, to having roots. But Roman’s lips nuzzling at the soft spot between her jaw and her ear Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

made her want to forget safety and routine. Warmth trickled through her veins, moisture dampened her panties, and she wanted so much more than she’d let herself admit before.

“Have dinner with me on Friday.” His throaty voice reverberated in her ear.

“I can . . .” His lips settled on her earlobe, his teeth nuzzling exactly the right spot. White hot arrows of desire shot to other, more private, sensitive areas and the wash of sensation made her body come alive.

She moaned aloud, ending her sentence and cutting off any negative contraction she’d intended.

His teeth nipped, then alternated with delicious laps of his tongue, at once fierce yet feather-soft and light, and more seductive than the deepest desire she’d ever harbored inside her. If his intent was to sway her, he was doing an amazing job. His lips lingered, damp and warm, undemanding yet so very seductive at the same time. A small voice in her head tried to rebel, reminding her this was Roman and he’d leave as soon as his mother was well, or as soon as he grew bored with this town. With her.

She ought to walk away. Then he caressed the shell of her ear with his tongue and blew lightly on her damp skin. Oh, but he tempted her, and a moan escaped her barely parted lips.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” he whispered.

She forced her eyelids open. Yes to a date with him? “No.”

“That’s not what your body’s telling me.”

He didn’t step back, which made this rejection harder than any she’d delivered in the past—because he was right. “My body needs a keeper.”

A charming grin touched his lips. “Now, that’s a job I wouldn’t mind taking.”

“Only while you’re in town, of course.” She forced an easy smile.

“Of course.” He finally stepped back, giving her much-needed breathing room. “You should know, I’m a man who appreciates a challenge, Charlie.”

She stiffened at the use of her father’s nickname for her. He’d chosen her name, Charlotte Bronson, in honor of his favorite actor, Charles Bronson. “Charlotte,” she corrected Roman.

“Okay, Charlotte, you pique my interest. You always have. And if I can admit it, so can you.”

“What’s the difference what I’m willing to admit? You don’t always get what you want in life.” Lord knew she rarely had.

“But if you try sometime, you just might get what you need.” He propped one shoulder against the wall and grinned.

“I’m impressed. You know the Rolling Stones.” She applauded for effect.

“Better. I know how to apply their words to life.” He pushed himself off the wall and rose to his full height. “Mark my words, Charlotte. We will have another date.” He started down the long hall, then turned back. “And based on your reaction and mine, we’ll probably share a whole lot more.” His voice rang with certainty and promise.

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“Okay, sure, Roman. We’ll have that date, all right.”

At her words, his eyes opened wide.

“The day you decide to stay in town.” And since that would never happen, Charlotte thought, neither would his proposed date. He posed no threat to her at all. Yeah, right.

“The more you challenge me, the more determined I get.” He laughed, obviously not believing she meant what she had said.

Little did he realize she was deadly serious. Nothing more could happen between Charlotte and the carefree world traveler, unless, of course, she wanted to end up alone and abandoned, like her mother.

But Roman had thrown down the verbal gauntlet. Now all she had to do was remain strong enough to resist.

CHAPTER THREE

By the time Roman walked out of Norman’s and into the cooler night air, he had a job to do.

Chase had gotten an emergency call from his editor, Ty Turner, who needed to miss the town meeting in order to accompany his pregnant wife to the hospital. The last thing Roman wanted to do was take over that assignment, but he did want to lighten his brother’s load. So he volunteered to cover the meeting.

And so, while Rick headed to a pay phone to call and check on Raina before heading back to work, and Chase retired to do some work for next week’s edition, Roman was on his way to tonight’s bickering session.

He glanced at his watch, noting he had a few minutes to kill. A few minutes to browse the seductive shop next door and figure out who owned it. One look at Charlotte, and he’d nearly forgotten his own name. No way he’d been focused enough to ask her about her new business.

He focused on the window display and his mouth opened wide. Were those crocheted panties on the amazingly lifelike mannequin? In the conservative town of Yorkshire Falls? He couldn’t have been more astonished. He felt a distinct rush of arousal when he realized that raven-haired mannequin bore an uncanny resemblance to Charlotte. Suddenly realizing he looked like an old lech leering at women’s lingerie, he stepped back. God, he hoped to hell no one was watching, or he’d never live down the embarrassment.

Roman took another step back and bumped against something hard. He turned around to find Rick, arms folded across his chest, grinning at him. “See something you like?”

“You’re a laugh riot,” Roman muttered.

“I figured you were revisiting your youth.”

Roman couldn’t mistake Rick’s meaning. Leave it to his middle sibling to remember Roman’s high school prank, done back when his idea of fun had been a panty raid at a friend’s house, where the girls were having a slumber party. Not only had it been his idea, but he’d been so damn proud he’d hung a Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

pair from his rearview mirror for about twenty-four hours. Until his mother had found them and given him a blistering lecture and punishment he’d never forget.

Raina Chandler had a unique way of curing her sons’ most incorrigible habits. After a summer of rinsing his boxers and hanging them to dry in front of the house, he’d never subject anyone to that same humiliation again.

With any luck, the rest of the town had long forgotten. “I can’t believe a shop like this is making it here,”

he said, changing the subject.

“It is. Young and old, slim and the more . . . robust—they all shop here. The younger ones anyway.

Mom’s on a crusade to get the older women in here too, and she’s one of the most loyal customers.”

“Mom wears these panties?”

The brothers shook their heads at the same time, neither wanting his imagination to travel down that path. “How is Mom?”

“Hard to tell. She sounded winded when I called, like she’d been running, which is impossible. So I’m heading on over to check myself.”

Roman exhaled hard. “I’ve got my cell phone. Call me if you need me.”

Rick nodded. “Will do.” He then walked along the street by the store, turned right at the corner leading to the apartments above, and returned soon after.

“What’s going on?” Roman asked, recognizing a walk-by when he saw one. His brother was patrolling the area and Roman wanted to know why.

Rick shrugged. “Yorkshire Falls had a couple of break-ins over the weekend.”

Roman’s reporter’s instincts kicked in. “What was stolen?”

A smile Roman could only describe as wicked settled on his brother’s mouth. “If I weren’t with you myself at the time of both break-ins, you’d be my only suspect. But I’ve got squat.”

“Panties? ” Roman shifted his gaze from his brother to the assortment in the window, then back again.

“You’re telling me some idiot broke into a house and stole women’s underwear?”

Rick nodded. “I’d have filled you and Chase in over dinner but Norman’s was too crowded to talk privately. It seems the good people of Yorkshire Falls have an actual crime spree on their hands.” Rick filled Roman in on the details of the thefts. It turned out that all of the stolen panties had been purchased at the store they were standing in front of now.

Roman glanced at the window once more. The panties in question were there for the world to see. Who owned this place? The Charlotte he’d known might not have been brazen enough to open this shop, but the one he’d seen dressed in bright colors and who’d laid down that challenge, well, she was another woman entirely.

“Are you going to tell me who owns this place?” he asked Rick.

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A gleam danced in his brother’s eyes and Roman’s instincts went on high alert, confirming what he’d already suspected. When Rick remained silent, a knowing look on his face, Roman did the obvious. He took a step back and glanced up at the awning.

A burgundy overhang with hot pink trim and bold calligraphy stared back at him. CHARLOTTE’SA TTIC—HIDDENTREASURESFOR THEBODY, HEART,AND SOUL.

“Hot damn.” Apparently he’d been too quick to discount the possibility. Charlotte, Roman’s Charlotte, owned this sensual, erotic shop.

Because she was a sensual, erotic woman, as she’d proven to him in Norman’s back hall. He’d proven something to himself as well. He was a man with healthy carnal appetites, and it had been too long since he’d indulged those.

“Don’t you have someplace to be?” Rick asked.

Roman ignored his brother’s laugh, slapped Rick on the back, and headed off to town hall.

Twenty minutes later, Roman was overwhelmed by complete and utter boredom. The things he did for family, he thought and yawned as he waited for the architectural review portion of the evening to end.

Though he could barely concentrate, he jotted notes just the same. He waited, pen hovering over his pad.

“Next up. Petition for variance to put dog door in the front entrance of 311 Sullivan Street, in the Sullivan Subdivision. Neighbors complain said door will destroy uniformity and beauty of subdivision—”

“My beagle Mick’s entitled to have free access to his home.” George Carlton, petitioner, rose to his feet, only to be jerked back down by his wife, Rose.

“Hush up, George. It’s not our turn to speak.”

“Go on,” a man on the board directed.

“We’re getting older and so’s Mick. Having to get up and down each time he needs to relieve himself is wearing on us.” She took her seat and folded her hands into her lap.

People were starving in Ethiopia and being killed in the Middle East, but here in Yorkshire Falls, canine concerns ruled the day. Roman remembered that the itch to leave town had started during his apprenticeship with Chase, and had grown with each meeting he’d attended that had degenerated into petty arguments between neighbors with too much time on their hands.

Back then, Roman’s imagination had traveled a dual path in search of excitement, from foreign locales with more intriguing, fast-paced stories, to Charlotte Bronson, his crush. Now that he’d visited most of the places in his dreams, he had but one focus. His mind returned to Charlotte and the attraction he’d proven was mutual.

He’d intended to corner her, to make her admit to avoiding him tonight and find out why she’d ditched him in high school. He had a hunch, but wanted to hear it from Charlotte. He hadn’t intended to seduce and arouse them both. Not until he’d looked into those eyes and seen the same emotional connection sizzling in the depths.

Nothing had changed. She was glad to see him, no matter how she fought that truth. Then there was the Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

fresh coat of glossy coral color on her full, pouty lips. No red-blooded man could resist. He’d inhaled her scent and nuzzled her soft, fragrant skin. He’d gotten close enough to tease but not satisfy.

Roman groaned, because though her body screamed, Take me —and he’d wanted to—her mind rebelled. And now he knew why. She’d finally given him a reason for rejecting him that he understood.

One he’d suspected all along. We’ll have that date, all right. The day you decide to stay in town.

She wanted a home in Yorkshire Falls. She needed stability and security, to live happily ever after in the way everyone knew her parents never had. He’d been too young and rushed to see the truth before, but he understood it now. And that meant she was the last woman he could turn to with his agenda. He couldn’t hurt her, and that meant he needed to take a lesson from Charlotte and steer clear.

“Next.” A gavel banged against the wooden platform on the desk up front.

Roman jumped in his seat, startled. “Dammit, I missed the outcome,” Roman muttered. Because he was preoccupied with her. This time he’d only missed out on the doggy dilemma, but next time he could miss much more. And that was something he couldn’t let happen.

“Is that you, Chandler?”

Roman turned at the sound of his name to see a familiar-looking guy slip into the seat behind him.

“Fred Aames, remember me?” He stuck out his hand.

Chase and Rick hadn’t been kidding. Fred no longer resembled the fat kid everyone had bullied. “Hey, Fred, how are you?” Roman shook his hand.

“Couldn’t be better. How ’bout you? What are you doing back here?”

“I’m back in town for my mom; I’m here now for the Gazette. ” Roman glanced forward. No one had introduced anything new for discussion yet.

“I heard about Raina’s hospital trip.” Fred ran a hand through his dark hair. “Man, I’m sorry.”

“Me too.”

“You covering for Ty?” He leaned forward and placed an arm behind Roman’s chair, nearly knocking him forward in the process. Fred had lost weight but not upper body strength. He was still one hell of a big guy.

Roman stifled a cough and nodded. “His wife went into labor and he couldn’t be in two places at once.”

“That’s nice of you. Besides, these meetings are as good a place as any to get caught up on what’s going on around here.”

“True enough.” If he paid attention, Roman thought. But he hadn’t a clue if Mick the beagle had been granted his freedom or locked behind closed doors for the duration of his doggy life.

The sound of a gavel hitting the table let them know the meeting had adjourned for a short recess.

Roman rose and stretched in an attempt to wake himself up.

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Fred stood, joining him. “Hey, you involved with anyone right now?”

Not yet. Roman shook his head, refusing to go that route with anyone but his brothers. “Not at the moment, why?”

Fred stepped closer. “Sally’s been eyeing you. I thought she had a thing for Chase, but now she’s locked in on you.” With a generous wave that made a mockery of his whisper, Fred gestured to where Sally Walker sat in her seat, taking notes for the county record.

Sally half raised her hand in salutation, a blush staining her cheeks.

Roman waved back, then looked away, not wanting to encourage her obvious interest. “She’s not my type.” Because her name wasn’t Charlotte. The thought surfaced unbidden. “Why don’t you go after her yourself?” Roman asked.

“Guess you didn’t hear I’m engaged,” Fred said proudly. “Marianne Diamond’s going to be my wife.”

One of his brothers had mentioned it earlier, Roman recalled now. He grinned, raised a hand to slap Fred on the back, but refrained. He didn’t want the big man to reciprocate the gesture. “Well, good for you. Congratulations.”

“Thanks. Listen, I’ve got to talk to one of the councilmen before things heat up again. I’ve got a few jobs on hold pending a permit . . . well, you don’t need to know details. See you around.”

“Sure thing.” Roman pinched the back of his neck. Exhaustion threatened to overwhelm him.

“How’d your first day back in the trenches go?”

He turned to see Chase standing beside him. “What’s wrong? Is it Mom?” He hadn’t expected to see Chase again tonight.

“No.” Chase laid a quick, comforting hand on Roman’s shoulder, then withdrew it.

“What, then? You don’t trust me to do my job?” Which wouldn’t be unfair, Roman thought. He still didn’t have an answer to the Carltons’ beagle’s problem.

Chase shook his head. “I just figured you’d be antsy sitting at one of these things and thought I’d relieve you in case it ran long.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “I overheard you and Fred. Looks like you’ve got yourself a candidate.”

“From what Fred said, Sally was interested in you first.”

“Trust me, the field is open. I wouldn’t hold it against you for stealing her away from me,” Chase said wryly. “Sally’s too serious for me to even think about. She’s the type to be dreaming about a house and kids after one date.” He shuddered.

“If she likes a loner like you, she’s not gonna be interested in an outgoing guy like me.” Roman grinned, only too happy to rib his brother about his lone wolf qualities. Rick had been right in saying women were drawn to their older brother’s brooding silence.

But Chase stared him down, obviously unwilling to buy in to Roman’s excuses. “Sally’s ready to settle Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

down. Everything she wants right now would make her the perfect candidate for you. So why’d you tell Fred she’s not your type?”

“Because she isn’t.”

“Forgive me for pointing out the obvious, but isn’t that what you want? Sally’s interested in you and you don’t return the sentiment. See if she’ll accept your arrangement.”

Roman glanced over his shoulder again and took in Sally Walker, an innocent, blushing type of woman.

“I can’t.” He couldn’t marry Sally. Sleep with Sally.

“I suggest you be careful, little brother. If you pick out a lady who actually is your type, you might not be in such a rush to get the hell out.” Chase shrugged. “Just something to think about.”

Leave it to Chase, Roman’s father figure, to point out the obvious. Also leave it to Chase to remind Roman of his priorities. His wife hunt. His brother was right. Roman needed a woman he could leave behind, not one he’d be drawn back to over and over again. Yet another reason Charlotte was all wrong for him. He wished like hell he could get her out of his system once and for all. But damned if he knew how. Touching her, tasting her, only made him want her more, not less.

An hour later, Roman headed home, Chase’s words in his mind, but Charlotte in his subconscious. In bed later that night, he woke more than once in a heated sweat, Charlotte Bronson the cause.

Ten years, and the flame burned hotter than ever. Which only proved one thing: Temptation or no temptation, Roman couldn’t afford to get involved with Charlotte. Not now. Not ever.

The sun woke Roman early the next morning. Despite a splitting headache, he stretched and climbed out of bed with a renewed sense of determination and purpose. After a quick shower, he headed for the kitchen. Food wouldn’t kill the pain, but at least something to eat would fill his empty stomach. He reached into his mother’s pantry, pulled out a box of Cocoa Puffs, poured a bowl of cereal, added mini-marshmallows, then drowned the mixture with milk.

His stomach growled at the same time he settled in, sitting in the same chair he favored as a kid. Pulling out the latest copy of the Gazette, he looked over the new and improved layout, and a tug of pride lodged in Roman’s throat.

Chase had managed to grow the paper along with the increased population in town.

The sound of someone running down the stairs startled him and he turned to see his mother come to a quick halt as she entered the kitchen.

“Roman!”

“You were expecting someone else?”

She shook her head. “It’s just . . . I thought you’d left the house already.”

“And you decided to run a marathon while I was gone?”

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“Weren’t you supposed to have breakfast with your brothers?”

He narrowed his gaze. “I couldn’t get out of bed this morning, and don’t change the subject. Was that you running down the stairs? Because you’re supposed to be taking it easy, remember?” But hadn’t Rick said she’d sounded winded last night too?

“How could I forget something so important?” She placed a shaking hand to her chest, then walked slowly into the room, coming up beside him. “What about you? Are you feeling okay?”

Other than disoriented from this circular conversation, he was fine. “Why wouldn’t I be okay?”

“Because your ears are obviously still clogged from the plane ride if you’re thinking you heard something as ridiculous as me running, of all things. Do you want me to make an appointment with Dr. Fallon for you?” she asked.

He shook his head hard enough to clear his ears had they been blocked and met his mother’s gaze. “I’m fine. It’s you I’m worried about.”

“No need.” She slowly lowered herself into the chair beside him, then stared at his cereal bowl, a frown puckering her face. “Well, I see some things haven’t changed. I can’t believe I actually keep that garbage on hand for you. It’s going to—”

“Rot my teeth, I know.” She’d told him often enough as a kid. But she loved him enough to indulge him anyway. “You do realize I haven’t lost one yet?”

“Yet being the operative word. A single man needs all his teeth, Roman. No woman finds it attractive to wake up in the middle of the night and discover you soaking your dentures on the nightstand.”

He rolled his eyes. “Good thing I’m a respectful man and don’t let women spend the night.” Let his mother chew on that, Roman thought wryly.

“Respect has nothing to do with it,” she muttered.

As usual, his mother had a point. Women didn’t stay overnight because he wasn’t currently involved and hadn’t been in a while, and because women who spent the night took it for granted they could spend another one. And another. The next thing a man knew, he was in a relationship—which Roman supposed wouldn’t be a bad thing, if he could find a woman who interested him for more than a couple of weeks.

Chase and Rick felt the same way. At this point, Roman figured the Chandler brothers’ hearts were stamped NO TRESPASSING. Any intelligent woman read the fine print before getting involved in any way.

“You’re too smart for your own good, Mom.” As he rose from his seat, he realized Raina was completely dressed for the day. She wore navy blue slacks, a white blouse with a tie, and the pin with three baseball bats, a diamond in each, clipped into the center—a gift from his father after Chase’s birth, and added to with each son she’d delivered. Other than her slight pallor, she looked great. The way his mother always looked, he thought with pride. “Going somewhere?” he asked.

She nodded. “To the hospital to read to the children.”

He opened his mouth to speak, but she cut him off.

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“And before you argue with me like Chase and Rick tried to do, let me tell you something. I’ve been in bed since late Friday when your brothers brought me home. It’s a beautiful morning. Even the doctor said fresh air would do me good as long as I take it easy.”

“Ma—”

“I’m not finished.”

She waved a hand in front of his nose and he lowered himself back into his chair, knowing better than to attempt to get a word in edgewise.

“I always read to the children on Monday and Friday. Jean Parker has chemotherapy treatments on those days and she looks forward to hearing Curious George Goes to the Hospital. ”

Bless his mother for caring, he thought. Even ill, she put others first. She’d always had more than enough room in her heart for any kid who’d walked into their home.

As if she’d read his mind, she placed her hand over that heart and rubbed gently. “And besides, there’s nothing like children to make a heart feel decades younger.”

He rolled his eyes. “More rest will do the same thing, so after you read, I expect you home and in bed.”

No way would he touch the dig regarding kids. Not when he was about to embark upon a hunt to find a mother for his. “Are you finished with the monologue?” he asked politely.

She nodded.

“I wasn’t going to argue. I just wanted to know if I could make you breakfast. I wouldn’t want you to wear yourself out before you start your volunteer work.”

A smile worked its way onto her face. Considering she was over sixty, her skin still held a glow most women would envy and the lines weren’t as deep as many others’ her age. Fear of losing her suddenly washed over him. He stood again and held out his arms. “I love you, Mom. And don’t you ever scare me like that again.”

She rose and hugged him in return, her arms and her grip strong and sure. This was his mother, the woman who had raised him, and though they touched base only once in a while because of his schedule, he adored her. He couldn’t imagine life without her in it. “I want you around for a long, long time.”

She sniffed. “Me too.”

“Don’t wipe your nose on my shirt.” Female tears made him uncomfortable and he wanted her perky and strong again. “The doctor said you’ll be fine as long as you take care of yourself, right? No stress, no overdoing it?”

She nodded.

“I suppose reading couldn’t hurt. Can I drive you into town?”

“Chase is picking me up.”

“How are you getting home?”

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“Eric is dropping me off after lunch.”

“How is Dr. Fallon?” Roman asked.

“Fine. Looking out for me just like you boys.” She stepped backward, dabbed her eyes with a napkin she’d swiped off the table, and though she didn’t meet his gaze, she was his composed mother again.

“How about a bagel and a cup of decaffeinated tea?” Roman asked.

“Don’t spoil me. I’ll be lost when you’re gone.”

He grinned. “Somehow I doubt that. You’re the strongest woman I know.”

Raina laughed. “And don’t you forget it.”

An hour later, Roman slipped out of the house for a walk to town, grateful his mother’s breakfast discussion had included only town gossip and no more baby talk. He knew what he had to do and neither needed nor wanted a reminder.

The job ahead wouldn’t be a simple one. The women of this town were raised to be wives and mothers—working or stay-at-home, it didn’t matter. It was the wife part that made Roman nervous, and had him wondering how the hell he’d find someone willing to accept his untraditional needs. He needed an untraditional woman who’d accept his absences and wondered if that person could be found in Yorkshire Falls.

There was always the possibility of choosing a more cosmopolitan woman, one who understood Roman’s needs better. He’d have to check his PalmPilot when he got home, but a few women he’d met in his travels and knew more intimately in the past came to mind. There was Cynthia Hartwick, an English heiress, but Roman immediately shook his head. She’d hire nannies to care for her children, and Roman wanted any kid of his to know a loving motherly upbringing.

He’d always liked Yvette Gauthier, a pretty redhead with a bubbly personality and the ability to make a man feel like a god. Then, just as he recalled how that same personality trait had nearly smothered him, he also remembered she’d become a flight attendant, which meant she wouldn’t be around if his kid fell and got hurt or needed help with homework. Raina had always been home for her boys. Though Roman didn’t mind if his wife worked, a long-distance job for both parents was out of the question.

His mother wouldn’t approve of either woman. It made him laugh thinking of Raina’s reaction to the cool Englishwoman or the sultry French tigress. His mother was the crux of this situation— she wanted grandchildren, so the woman would have to live or be willing to settle in Yorkshire Falls.

So much for the women he’d met along the way, Roman thought wryly. He felt somewhat relieved. He couldn’t imagine marrying any of them anyway.

The glare of the sun beat down on his aching head. He definitely wasn’t in the mood for people yet. Not until he’d had some caffeine, but as he approached town, his solitude was interrupted. A high-pitched voice called to him and he turned to see Pearl Robinson, an older woman he’d known forever, rushing toward him dressed in her housecoat and her hair in the same gray bun she’d always favored.

“Roman Chandler! Shame on your mother for not telling me you were in town. Then again, she’s got Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

more on her mind than gossip. How is she feeling? I baked a tray of brownies to bring over this afternoon. Is she up for company?”

Roman laughed at Pearl’s rambling. She was such a sweet woman, harmless if you didn’t mind chatter and nosiness, and after being away for so long, Roman was surprised to find he didn’t mind either.

“Mom’s okay, Pearl, thanks for asking. And I’m sure she’d love to have a visit today.” He gave the older woman a quick hug. “How’ve you been, and how’s Eldin? Still painting?”

For an older couple, Pearl Robinson and Eldin Wingate had had an unconventional living arrangement for years. Unmarried, they shared an old house owned by Crystal Sutton, another friend of Raina’s, who’d had to move to a nursing home a year or so ago.

“Eldin’s still painting, though Picasso he isn’t. But he’s fine, thanks for asking, and healthy, knock on wood.” She banged on her head with her fist. “Though his back still acts up on occasion and he still can’t carry me over the threshold. That’s why we’re still living in sin,” she said, citing her favorite description of their relationship.

Pearl loved announcing their status to anyone who’d listen, as many times as they’d allow in the course of one conversation. Obviously that idiosyncrasy hadn’t changed. But Roman’s reaction to it had. Instead of being annoyed by her single-minded, self-oriented focus, he realized he’d missed his small town and all the different people who occupied it.

Even the peaceful quiet of his morning walk had been a refreshing change from his hectic daily life. How long, though, before the boredom and confinement he’d felt in his youth resurfaced and took over? How long would his enjoyment last once he got hitched? He shuddered to think of his imminent doom.

“Are you sick?” Pearl put a hand to his forehead. “You can’t possibly be chilled on such a nice day.

Maybe your mother should be taking care of you instead of the other way around?”

He blinked and realized he’d gotten lost in thought. “I’m fine, really.”

“Well, I’ll let you get going. I’m just going to the bank and then on home. I’ll be by to see your mother later.”

“Say hi to Eldin for me.”

Pearl headed for the bank on First and Roman picked up his pace too. So much in town had stayed the same, but it was the new and different things that interested him now and he headed straight for Charlotte’s store. Now, she was a woman who always drew him, no matter how many times she fought the idea.

Though they were mismatched opposites, she tempted him. Unfortunately, she didn’t meet the one criterion that mattered most, her willingness to accept his travels. His desire to storm the shop and her defenses was strong, but reality asserted itself. Any contact between them could only cause them both pain.

Resigned, he turned to find Rick standing where he’d been last night, watching him with a speculative gleam in his eye. “On patrol again?” Roman asked.

“Just looking out for suspicious characters like yourself.” Rick grinned.

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Roman let out a groan and rubbed his burning eyes. “Don’t start.”

Rick eyed him warily. “Someone’s testy this morning.”

Roman hadn’t been until Rick started bugging him. “Later, brother. I need coffee.”

“Ah, yes. To help you wake up so the wife hunt can begin.”

At Rick’s words, Roman’s head began to pound harder.

“Good luck.” Rick walked past him and started for the panty-filled store.

“What gives?”

Rick turned, not a hint of amusement in his gaze. “Business.”

“The panty thief.”

He nodded but said nothing more. He didn’t have to. He’d already given Roman more information than he should have, all off the record. Someone was breaking into the store customers’ homes and stealing one particular brand of panties. Rick figured Charlotte could provide pertinent facts the police needed for their investigation.

“Want to join me?” Rick asked.

Roman looked for signs Rick was having fun at his expense. After all, this was the brother who as a teenager had answered the phone and agreed to blind dates in Roman’s place. But Rick stood waiting, not a grin in sight.

Roman assessed his options. He had none. The woman of his dreams was inside. Roman shot his middle sibling a grateful glance. Though gut instinct and self-preservation told Roman to steer clear, curiosity pushed him inside.

So, he admitted, did his desire to see Charlotte once more.

At the sound of the door chimes, Charlotte stopped in the middle of folding lavender lace underwear.

She glanced up to see Officer Rick Chandler saunter inside.

She gave him a friendly wave, but her hand froze in midair as Roman followed him in. She licked her dry lips as she watched them walk through her feminine store.

Side by side, the contrast between the brothers couldn’t be more clear. All three Chandler men were beyond breathtaking. But no matter how handsome, Rick didn’t have the same devastating impact on Charlotte as Roman did. Ever since her return to town, they’d become good pals, nothing more. Even Chase, who resembled Roman in looks, didn’t come close to tipping Charlotte’s Richter scale the way Roman did.

Something about the youngest Chandler brother, his jet-black hair, his confident stride, and his Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

compelling blue eyes, captivated her. Made her yearn for things beyond her control or understanding.

She shivered, then let reality return. No matter how good-looking the Chandler men were, none of the brothers were interested in settling down. It was part of town lore. Charlotte couldn’t let it be her downfall.

She shook her head, and then wiggled her arms, fingers, and toes. “Relax,” she muttered aloud. Roman had always been perceptive and she didn’t want him to think her nerves had anything to do with him.

Last night had proven Roman was too cocky for his own good and he didn’t need additional ego stroking.

“Hi ya, Charlotte.” Rick strode up to her, ignoring the panties strewn about, and rested an elbow on the counter, as confidently and casually as if he were surrounded by baseballs and mitts in the sporting goods store down the road.

Roman stood beside him, devouring her with a single, sexy look.

“Hi, Officer.” She managed a friendly wink meant to encompass both men. “So what can I do for you this morning? Are you here to check out the newest in thong underwear?” She tossed the joke she always used on Rick, attempting normalcy.

Rick grinned. “Not unless you plan on modeling for me.”

She laughed. “In your dreams.”

Roman cleared his throat, obviously meant to remind them that he was in the room. As if she could forget. “Come on, Roman. You have to know your brother here likes all women. He’d have a harem if it were legal, wouldn’t you, Rick?”

Rick merely chuckled.

“Can we get down to business?” Roman asked.

“Police business, unfortunately.” Rick’s mood suddenly sobered.

Charlotte didn’t like the intense sound of his voice. “Why don’t we sit?” She led them to the oversized velour Queen Anne–type chairs near the fitting room.

The two men overpowered the frilly, feminine decor. Her gaze settled on Roman. He epitomized the magnetic lure of the Chandler brothers, she thought. Every female felt his presence when he was in a room.

Though Roman remained standing, Rick sat, hands clasped between his legs, looking like a man with a secret.

“What’s going on?” she asked.

The brothers exchanged silent glances. Static broke through the quiet, Rick’s police radio calling for his attention. He shot Charlotte a regret-filled look. “Excuse me.” While he unhooked the two-way radio from his belt and discussed business, Roman’s piercing gaze never left hers.

Rick glanced up. “I’m sorry. A disturbance at the general store, and backup’s needed.”

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Charlotte waved him off. “You go.” And take your brother with you, she silently pleaded.

“Roman, can you fill her in? She needs to be aware of what’s going on.” Rick shattered her hopes.

Roman nodded. “My pleasure,” he said in that sexy voice.

She shivered with awareness. Blast the man for his effect on her, she thought, but by the time Rick took off, leaving Roman and Charlotte alone in the back of her store, she hoped she’d schooled her face into a polite mask of friendliness. With Beth off this morning and the lull in customers, there was no one to interrupt them, so she’d be safer if she pushed the attraction to the back burner. “If such a thing were possible,” she muttered.

“Is what possible?” Roman asked.

She shook her head, then swallowed hard. “Not a thing. Is this about the panty thief?”

Roman nodded. “It’s about your merchandise.” He leaned against the wall beside her.

“Which items?” Rick hadn’t given her specifics on his last visit.

Roman coughed once and flushed before answering. “Ladies’ panties.”

Charlotte grinned. “Well, I’ll be darned, there is a subject that can make a Chandler man blush.” His embarrassment let her see a more vulnerable side to Roman than his normal, confident demeanor. She was grateful for the privilege, and a traitorous part of her heart opened to him.

“I’m serious,” he said, unaware of the effect his embarrassment had on her.

She had to keep it that way.

“This guy’s apparently got a fetish of some sort.”

A fetish for panties. She shook her head wryly, then Roman’s words sank in. “You said this guy’s got a fetish. Why assume it’s a man? Do the police think it’s a man?”

“You’ll have to talk to Rick about that.”

She nodded, giving the matter more thought. “You do realize only a woman could wear the stolen property—without anyone noticing. Unless, of course, he’s a poorly endowed man.” She met his amused gaze and caught him laughing.

“Behave yourself, Charlotte.”

His grin filled her with warmth and curled her toes. Clichéd as the expression was, it was true. “So what brand of panties? I sell dozens.”

“Again, Rick’s got the details, but he mentioned the crocheted ones in the window. He said they’re handmade?”

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obsession or ridicule for a perverted man. She had her reasons for pursuing the hobby that had become a staple in her business. But Charlotte couldn’t imagine divulging personal secrets with Roman when distance seemed the safest route. Not when the details connected to those garments would lead to an emotional minefield.

Crocheting provided a window to her soul and discussion would reveal her deepest pain and disappointment. Because along with knitting, Charlotte had learned to crochet from her mother. They were skills Annie had developed as a means of escape, after Charlotte’s fame-seeking father had abandoned them when Charlotte was nine. Hollywood was waiting, he’d said one morning, and walked out, only to return at disparate intervals. His revolving-door habit had become a pattern in her life. It was a pattern Charlotte had always feared falling into with Roman, so strong was the magnetic pull he exerted over her.

He cleared his throat and Charlotte blinked. “I know the brand,” she said at last. “What can I do to help the police?”

“For now Rick just wants you more informed. I’m sure he’ll be in touch with what he needs.”

She nodded. As silence reigned, she sought a neutral topic. “How’s your mother?”

His features softened. “Hanging in. She’s allowed one activity outside the house a day, then she comes home to rest and keep off her feet. I feel better having seen her myself. Chase’s phone call scared me to death.”

Her heart reached out to him, the desire to help him past his fear and pain strong and overwhelming. But she couldn’t afford to connect with him any deeper than she already had. “When did you get into town?”

she asked.

“Early Saturday morning.”

And Raina had been rushed to Emergency late Friday night. Charlotte admired Roman’s fierce protective streak, one shared by all the brothers when it came to their beloved mother. Though a part of her longed for him to turn that caring her way, she knew even if he did, it couldn’t last.

He exhaled, then strode toward her. Powerful and sure, he came up beside her. Her heart beat more rapidly in her chest, her pulse picking up rhythm. His body heat encompassed her, along with a rush of warmth and emotion that surpassed mere desire. The man had hidden depths and an innate goodness that came with his family name. He could give her everything she desired except forever, she thought sadly.

He reached out and tipped up her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze. “Be careful. Let’s face it, Rick can’t say for certain whether this is a freak incident or if a fruitcake’s at large.”

A chill raced through her. “I’ll be fine.”

“I’ll make sure you are.” His husky voice was filled with the caring she’d desired and a lump rose to fill her throat.

“One last thing,” he said. “Rick wants to keep all this quiet. The cops don’t need a panicked town or rumors of a panty thief spreading like wildfire.”

“As if you can control gossip around here.” She pursed her lips. “But word won’t come from me.”

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She escorted him to the door, torn by the desire to have him stay and the logical need to see him gone.

He held her gaze one last time, then let the door shut behind him. Charlotte’s palms were damp, her pulse was racing—and the panty thief wasn’t the reason.

Heading back to the lavender panties she’d left on the counter, Charlotte recounted reality in her mind.

There couldn’t be two more different people on the face of the planet than she and Roman. He thrived on transience and challenge, she needed permanence and the comfort of routine. Even her brief stint in New York, as exciting as it had been, had been necessitated by fashion school and apprenticeship. She’d returned to Yorkshire Falls as soon as possible. Roman made it his life’s goal to stay away.

She’d broken up with him once because his excitement at leaving Yorkshire Falls behind had convinced her he’d provide her nothing but pain. Nothing he’d done in his life since had convinced her he’d changed. She gripped the panties, wishing with all her heart things between them could be different but accepting reality as only someone who lived it could.

Then and now, her sole consolation lay in the fact that she had no choice. She’d done the right thing. She didn’t want to repeat her mother’s life, living in limbo until a man returned and deigned to give her attention on his terms, only to disappear again.

She couldn’t afford to admit to the sexual feelings Roman inspired inside her or acknowledge the truth hidden deep in her heart—that both his daring persona and impermanent lifestyle enticed her. And so she’d ruthlessly squelched the part of her that desired Roman Chandler, and the seeds of discontent that lurked in her soul.

Even now.

CHAPTER FOUR

Aspring breeze floated through the early morning air, bringing unaccustomed warmth to Yorkshire Falls and filling Raina’s lungs with incredibly sweet, fresh air. As fresh as her sons in their teenage years, she thought wryly.

She left Norman’s, walked across First and onto the grassy mound in the center of town with a gazebo in the corner. She was meeting Eric here during his lunch hour, before he had to return to the office to see his afternoon appointments. Although he’d done the inviting, she’d chosen the place and picked up lunch.

Who could resist a picnic in the outdoors? She had the most delicious grilled chicken sandwiches for them.

She paused in the center of the median, surprised to see Charlotte Bronson and Samson Humphrey, the duck man, as the children in town called him, standing together. Samson lived on the outskirts of town, in a run-down house that had been passed down from generation to generation in his family. Raina had no idea how he got by or what he did with his time other than sit in the park and feed the ducks, but he was a staple fixture in town.

She walked up beside them. “Hello, Charlotte. Samson.” She smiled at them both.

“Hi, Raina.” Charlotte inclined her head. “Nice to see you.”

“You too.” When Samson remained silent, Raina prodded again. “Nice weather we’re having. Perfect Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

for you to feed the ducks.”

“Already told you it’s Sam,” he grumbled, barely loud enough to be heard. “Can’t you remember a damn thing?”

“He’s grouchy because he hasn’t had lunch yet. Isn’t that right, Sam?” Charlotte asked.

Raina laughed, knowing full well he was always grouchy. Leave it to Charlotte to try to smooth over even the surliest disposition.

“What would you know about it?” he asked.

Raina knew Charlotte was probably right and she’d packed a separate sandwich for him just in case.

“Well, I know your bark is worse than your bite,” Charlotte said. “Now, here. Take this.” She held out a brown paper bag, beating Raina to her good deed.

From the time Roman had a crush on Charlotte in high school, Raina had always known the girl had a heart of gold. She remembered the two had shared one date and her son had been a bear the morning after. More existed between Roman and Charlotte than an awful date. Raina had known it then. She knew it now. Just as she also knew Charlotte Bronson and her heart of gold were perfect for her youngest son.

“Go on, Sam, take it,” Charlotte said.

He grabbed the bag and muttered a barely audible “Thanks.” He dug past the foil wrapping, taking a huge first bite. “Would’ve preferred mustard.”

Both Raina and Charlotte laughed. “Norman refuses to put mustard on grilled chicken, and you’re welcome,” Charlotte said.

Obviously the condiment on the sandwich didn’t matter, Raina thought, because he’d devoured half of it in two bites.

“I’ve got to get back to work.” Charlotte waved to Raina, then Sam, and headed back toward her store.

“Nice girl,” Raina said.

“Ought to have more sense than to bother with me,” he muttered.

She shook her head. “That just shows her good taste. Well, enjoy lunch.” Raina walked past him, to settle on the far edge of the bench.

She knew better than to join Sam. He’d just walk away, as he’d done in the past. He was an antisocial loner. The younger kids were afraid of him, the older kids made fun of him, and the rest of town generally ignored him. But Raina had always felt sorry for Sam and she liked him despite his gruff outer shell.

When she bought herself food at Norman’s, she always picked up something for Samson, too. Obviously Charlotte felt the same way. Something else Raina and the younger woman had in common, apart from Roman.

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“I should have known you’d beat me here,” a familiar male voice said.

“Eric.” Raina rose to greet her friend. Dr. Eric Fallon and Raina had grown up together on the same street in Yorkshire Falls. They’d been friends as married couples and remained friends now that their spouses had died, Eric’s wife long after Raina had lost John.

“You’d better not have walked all this way or driven into town well past the speed limit. Indigestion or not, you can’t be too careful.” Wrinkles of concern furrowed his brows.

Raina didn’t want him worrying about her, but she had another, more pressing issue to take care of first.

She’d have to remind her dear friend of his medical ethics before he accidentally slipped and told one of her sons she’d suffered no more than glorified heartburn. “Chase dropped me off, and I take it you’ve either been through my file or heard about my hospital trip through the grapevine?”

“You should have told me yourself when I called this morning.”

“If every friend bothered you with health crises the minute you got back from vacation, you’d go running back to Mexico.”

He sighed, drawing a hand through his salt-and-pepper hair. “You’re not just any friend. When are you going to understand that?” His dark eyes bore into hers.

She patted his hand. “You’re a good man.”

His tanned, weathered hand covered hers, his touch surprisingly warm and tender.

Shaken, she changed the subject. “I suppose you heard Roman’s back in town?”

Eric nodded. “Now tell me why I also heard your sons are tiptoeing around you like you might shatter at any moment. Why Roman’s taken a leave of absence from his job. And why when you’re not out about town, you’re home resting as per doctor’s orders. Because I know darn well Leslie didn’t say a thing about added rest. Added Maalox, maybe.”

Raina glanced around to see if anyone would save her from a lecture, but no white knight was in sight, not even Samson, who’d moved behind them and was weeding the flower beds. “Eric, how old are the boys? Old enough to be married,” she said without waiting for him to answer. “Old enough to have children.”

“So that’s what’s been bothering you. You want grandchildren?”

She nodded, finding it difficult to speak, to acknowledge the truth without giving away the growing emptiness in both her life and her heart.

“The boys will get married when they’re good and ready, Raina.”

“What’s wrong with upping the time frame? Lord knows Rick needs to see that just because one woman hurt him doesn’t mean all will. And then there’s Roman—”

“Forgive me, but I’m not understanding,” Eric interrupted her. “How does pretending to be sick relate to your desire to see the boys settled with families of their own?”

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She glanced upward. Heaven help her when dealing with obtuse men—it seemed she was surrounded by them. “My sons would never deny me my fondest wish, one that will complete their lives too. Not if they thought . . .” She wrinkled her nose and cringed, hesitating.

“Your health was at risk?” At her barely perceptible nod, he rose from his seat. “Good God, woman, how could you do that to your children?”

“I did it for my children. Sit down, you’re making a scene.” She jerked on his sleeve and he followed her command.

“It’s wrong.”

Raina ignored the twinge of guilt. Okay, it was more than a twinge, but if her plan worked, no one would get hurt and everyone would benefit. “You can’t tell them.”

“Those boys love you. Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t.”

“Your Hippocratic oath.” She folded her arms across her chest. “Do you need me to quote it for you?

Because I can, you know. Verse for verse,” she added for good measure.

“I don’t doubt it,” he said through clenched teeth.

“Fifth centuryB .C. ‘I swear by Apollo, the Physician—’ ”

“You win, Raina, but I don’t like it.”

“I know you don’t.” Normally she enjoyed sparring with him, and when she’d committed the passage to memory she’d wanted to impress him with her knowledge, but the victory wasn’t at all sweet. “The boys don’t know what they’re missing in life. What’s so wrong with wanting to show them? You have two beautiful granddaughters of your own, both of whom live in Saratoga Springs, not twenty minutes from here. I’ll bet you can’t imagine life without them. I’m positive you’d be distraught if your daughters weren’t settled yet.”

“I couldn’t tell you, since they’re both married, with children. But I doubt I’d be leading them blind. It’s your methods I disagree with, not your feelings. And there’s something else.”

His thumb began a lazy glide over the top of her hand, and for the first time, Raina realized he was still holding on tight. She swallowed hard. “What’s that?”

“You’ve been alone too long. Studies show that widowed women, women with workaholic husbands, and women without interests of their own are more likely to meddle in their children’s lives.”

There were many things in life Raina hated. Being patronized was one of them. “I have outside interests.

I jog every morning outside or on the treadmill in the basement.”

He raised an eyebrow. “You’re still jogging with a weak heart? ”

She shrugged. “When I’m sure I won’t get caught, and it hasn’t been easy, believe me. Those boys have minds like a steel trap, and with three of them, they seem to be everywhere at once. The basement’s my only refuge, but that’s not the point. I also volunteer at the hospital,” she said, seeking to convince him she had outside, healthy interests.

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He frowned. “In the children’s ward. It’s a wonderful gift you give those kids, but as far as you’re concerned, it’s an extension of the same obsession. Meddling in your children’s lives isn’t healthy.”

She squared her shoulders, but her heart beat painfully in her chest and a lump rose to her throat. “I’m not obsessed and I don’t meddle. I’m stretching the truth to get my sons to broaden their horizons.

That’s all.”

“Let’s say, on that subject, we agree to disagree. But on the subject of you, it’s time I spoke up, and not just as your doctor.”

Raina wasn’t sure why, but her adrenaline picked up in a way she hadn’t experienced in years. Distinct butterflies took up residence in the pit of her stomach.

“There are other studies I can quote, but did you know that an emotional and physical connection to another human being is an essential part of life?”

“I’m connected,” she told him. “To my sons, my friends, to you . . . to everyone in this town.”

“I’m not talking about friendships, Raina.”

She met his gaze and for the first time found herself looking at him. Really looking at him, not just as her friend, but as a man. An attractive, attentive, eligible man.

He’d aged well, the salt-and-pepper hair making him distinguished-looking, not old. His skin was tanned and weathered, in a rugged, handsome way that defied aging and wrinkles. And his body had maintained, if not the firmness of youth, then at least the outward appearance of a virile man.

She wondered what he saw when he looked at her, and was surprised to discover she cared. This conversation had personal, sensual undertones she’d never heard before from Eric. She wondered if she was mistaken. She was too old to be thinking men looked at her with any kind of real interest. Not anymore. Not since John.

But hadn’t she just appraised Eric in—dare she even think it—an intimate way? Flustered, she curled her hands into fists and he released his hold on her at last.

“I have patients at two. I think it’s time to eat.”

Raina gratefully nodded and dug into the picnic basket she’d picked up at Norman’s.

“So tell me what other schemes you’ve got going on,” Eric said as he began to eat.

“You heard about Bridge Night, didn’t you?” One night a month, Raina insisted the women shop at Charlotte’s Attic instead of playing bridge. Ladies’ night out, she called it.

He laughed. “Of course I heard. You’ve made it your mission to help Charlotte succeed.” He gestured over the lawn, to Charlotte’s Attic across the street.

Raina shrugged. “Why not? I always liked the girl.”

“Mothering again,” Eric said between bites. Raina frowned at him and would have said more, but he Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

softened his words with an admiring smile. “Come with me to the St. Patrick’s Day dance Friday night.”

He’d never asked her out before. Never offered to accompany her anywhere unless they were in a group. Babysitting the widow, she called it, and nobody had ever disagreed. Eric’s wife had been gone three years now and he’d thrown himself into his work, so his invitation surprised her.

“I’d like to go, but the boys will be there, and—”

“They might think you’re healthy, heaven forbid?”

Heat rose to her cheeks. “Something like that.”

“I’ll have to prescribe a night out, then.”

His eyes twinkled, and she had to admit she was tempted. Not just by his offer, but by him. “Who’s doing the babysitting this time?” She needed clarification. Was she going with him as his date, or was he just seeking to get an old friend out of the house?

He met her gaze with a steady, assessing stare. “Nobody’s babysitting. We’re going on a date.”

“I’d be delighted.” The butterflies picked up rhythm once more and this time Raina not only recognized the passionate sensation, but she welcomed the feeling with open arms.

Three days after Roman had visited her shop, Charlotte still hadn’t been able to shake him from her thoughts. In her dreams, she knew better than to try. But during the day, when the shop bell chimed, her stomach fluttered at the possibility he might walk back in. If the phone rang, her pulse skipped, thinking she’d hear his deep voice on the other end.

“Pathetic,” she muttered. She needed to stop thinking about Roman.

She parallel parked at the curb across from her mother’s house. Visiting Annie was a weekly ritual.

When Charlotte had moved back to town, she’d already been on her own too long to live with her mother, and besides, she hadn’t wanted to fall into the depression and frustration caused by living with Annie and her irrational hopes and dreams.

But she refused to let her mother depress her today, for she was determined to keep her mood as bright as the day. The sun shone in the clear blue sky and spring fever had her floating. And she’d keep floating if she didn’t think about how tonight she’d be at the town hall dance, inhaling the smell of corned beef hash and listening to town gossip, instead of on a real date with Roman Chandler. A girl had to make smart choices and she’d made hers.

Charlotte pushed the doorbell once more, not wanting to use her key and scare her mother or have her think Russell had returned. Annie had never changed her locks and never would. She lived in an eternal state of limbo.

Finally the door to the old house swung open wide and her mother stood in her housecoat. “Charlotte!”

“Morning, Mom.” She drew her mother into a huge hug before entering.

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The house smelled stuffy, as if the windows hadn’t been cracked open to enjoy the early spring weather, and her mother looked as if she planned to spend her one weekday off work inside. Again.

“Don’t you have to be at the store?” Annie asked.

Charlotte glanced at her watch. “I do, but Beth can open for me. As a matter of fact, Beth can handle things until later.” An inspired idea struck Charlotte. She’d wanted a day out, and now she had the perfect idea for them both. “Get dressed,” she told her mother. “We’re going to have a mother-daughter morning.” While she spoke, she prodded her mother up the stairs and into her bedroom. “I’ll bet Lu Anne can fit us in for hair and nails. We’ll buy outfits for tonight’s St. Patrick’s Day dance, and then we’ll go to Norman’s for lunch. My treat.”

Her mother glanced around the darkened room. “Well, I wasn’t planning on going tonight, and as for leaving the house today . . .” She trailed off.

“No excuses.” Charlotte snapped up the shades, letting light in. “We’re going to have fun and enjoy.”

She folded her arms across her chest. “And I’m not taking no for an answer, so get dressed.”

While Charlotte wondered what she’d have done if Roman stormed her fortresses this way, to her surprise, her mother blinked and complied, sans argument. Half an hour later, they sat in Lu Anne’s Locks, a salon owned by another mother-daughter team. Lu Anne handled the blue-haired ladies’ style and sets, while her daughter, Pam, took care of the funky teens and style-conscious younger women.

After Lu Anne’s, they ended up in Norman’s for lunch, then tackled shopping. Charlotte couldn’t recall the last time she’d actually gotten her mother out of the house and was glad she’d made the time.

She picked a few dresses for her mother off the rack and after Annie grudgingly tried them on, they agreed on one. “It looks gorgeous on you. With the new hairstyle and the makeup, this dress brings out the green in your eyes.”

“I don’t see why tonight’s so important to you.”

“Other than the fact that it’s an annual Little League fund-raiser? Because getting out of the house is important. Hey, you might even run into Dennis Sterling. I know for a fact he’s interested, Mom. He hangs around the library much more than even a veterinarian needs to.”

Annie shrugged. “I don’t go out with other men. I’m married, Charlotte.”

Charlotte sucked in a frustrated breath. “Mom, don’t you think it’s time to move on? Just a little? And even if you don’t agree, what would it hurt to test the waters? You might even enjoy it.” And when Russell deigned to show up again, which he always did, it would do the man good to see her mother was no longer sitting around waiting for him to make his grand entrance.

“He loves me. He loves you too. If you gave him a chance . . .”

“A chance to do what? Come home, say hello in one breath and good-bye in another?”

Annie held the dresses close to her, as if the layers of material could protect her from Charlotte’s words.

Charlotte winced. She didn’t need to see her mother’s retreat to know she’d been too harsh. As soon as the words had left her mouth, she regretted her harsh comment and tone. She placed a soothing hand on her mother’s arm, not knowing what else to say.

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Annie broke the silence first. “People have different ways of showing love, Charlotte.”

And her father showed his lack of the emotion with every departure he made. “Mom, I don’t want to hurt you and I don’t want to argue.” How many times had she had some version of this conversation with her mother? She’d lost count.

But each time she thought she’d gotten close to a breakthrough, her errant father would waltz into town once more. It was like the man had radar, Charlotte thought. He obviously didn’t want Annie, but he didn’t want her to get over him, either. As a result, her mother lived her life in limbo. By choice, Charlotte reminded herself. Which was why her own decisions had to be the clear-cut opposite of her mother’s.

Annie held out the dress, acknowledging everything but her daughter’s words, giving Charlotte a chance to appraise her mother anew. The new hairstyle and color covered the gray and the makeover lit her features. She looked as if she’d lost ten years.

“Why are you staring at me like that?”

“You look . . . beautiful.” An adjective Charlotte rarely used to describe her mother, if only because Annie so rarely took pains with her appearance.

But looking at her now, Charlotte recalled the wedding photo on her mother’s dresser. Russell and Annie hadn’t had a lavish wedding, but her mother had still been dressed in a traditional white gown—and with the glow of youth and love, her mother hadn’t just been beautiful. She’d been exquisite.

And from the glow in her cheeks and light in her eyes, she’d been deliriously happy too. She could be happy again, Charlotte thought. If she chose to, which made the situation that much more frustrating.

Charlotte blamed her mother for her refusal to get help as much as she blamed her father for his disappearing act. But Annie was the more fragile of the two and Charlotte loved her mother. She touched Annie’s hair. “You’re really beautiful, Mom.”

Annie waved away the compliment, but to Charlotte’s surprise, her mother reached out and touched her cheek in return. “You’re beautiful too, Charlotte. Inside and out.”

It was rare for Annie to come out of her fog long enough to see the world around her. The compliment was so unlike her mother, a lump formed in Charlotte’s throat and she found herself at a temporary loss for words. “I look like you,” she said when she’d recovered.

Annie merely smiled, and fingered the soft ruffles on the dress with obvious longing. Her mother was wavering.

“Come to the dance, Mom.”

“Tell you what. I’ll go to the dance if you’ll drop the discussion about your father.”

Charlotte knew when to grab and run. A night out was progress. Who cared what Annie’s reasons were? “Okay.” She held up her hands in submission. “What do you say we pay for these things and head back to my store? We’ll pick out some undergarments, finish our ladies’ day out, and then I’ll take you home.”

At the word home, her mother’s eyes lit up and Charlotte made a mental note to put a call in to Dr.

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Fallon. There had to be more driving Annie’s need for home, and maybe Dr. Fallon could talk to her mother.

By the time they walked into the Attic, Charlotte was determined to show her mother another half an hour of fun outside of the house. And from the expression on Beth’s face when Charlotte ordered her to pull out their most skimpy, eclectic undergarments, her assistant was only too happy to oblige.

Charlotte hung a BACKSOONsign on the front door and turned to her mother and friend. “Fashion show, anyone? Come on, Mom. You can pick out anything you want. Release the inner you to go with the new outer you. What do you say?”

“I’m too old to go parading around in my skivvies.” Annie laughed, though, and the sound warmed Charlotte’s insides. “But I’ll watch you two.”

“And promise to take home at least one pair?”

Her mother nodded.

The afternoon proceeded like a pajama party, with Charlotte and Beth trying on the most seductive bras and panties. Even Annie seemed to enjoy not just the show, but the idea of treating herself right for once.

Progress came in various forms, but Charlotte believed she’d made some more today. “Last one,” she called out to her mother and Beth, who waited in the private showing area right outside the individual dressing rooms.

“Okay. I’m dressed and your Mom’s still waiting in the chairs enjoying the show, right, Annie?” Beth asked.

“Right. You girls make me envious for my youth.”

Which she’d wasted on a man who didn’t deserve it, Charlotte thought, but she knew better than to speak aloud and ruin what had been a perfect day. Instead she slipped on the panty set she’d saved for last, one from her handmade, crocheted line. She’d never told her mother she’d been using her talent for work, never thought Annie would come out of her shell long enough to care. But Annie had today.

A loud knock sounded at the shop door. “I’ll get it,” Beth called out. “We’ve been closed long enough to have the townfolk curious.”

“Whoever it is, get rid of them for another few minutes, okay?” Charlotte didn’t care as much about business as she did about the bonding time she’d shared with her mother. This last part of their day could bring them even closer.

“Will do.”

Charlotte heard the two women go up front to see who was knocking. In the meantime, she fastened the matching bra, a new addition to her line. These garments weren’t meant for anything other than intimate seduction.

She glanced in the mirror. She hadn’t counted on the arousing effect of wearing these garments. Her nipples puckered, peeking through the insubstantial fabric, while an empty, aching feeling settled in the pit of her stomach.

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And once aroused, her thoughts drifted to Roman. She smoothed her hands over her hips and turned to the side, taking in her profile, her long legs and flat stomach. She had to admit, she filled out the bra well.

If only she possessed the same nerve she tried to impart to clients, she ’d. . . what? Charlotte asked herself and forced her mind to play out the answer.

She’d reach out to Roman Chandler. She’d indulge in the feelings she’d possessed since high school.

What had started out as a childhood crush had metamorphosed into adult curiosity and longing. What was he like now? What kind of man had he become? She had his devotion to his mother to begin the sketch, but there were many more depths she’d like to plumb.

The only way to indulge that curiosity was to give in to her feelings. Accept whatever he offered, for as long as he offered it—and then have the courage to go on with her life once he was gone. Unlike her mother, who had never taken the steps to move forward, Charlotte would indulge her deepest passion, then walk away.

But while Roman was here, she thought, continuing with the fantasy, while he was hers, she would go for it all. She’d model her handmade creations in front of him and watch as his eyes dilated with longing and need. As if she were enacting reality, her body shook in reaction to her brazen thoughts. Refocusing on the here and now, Charlotte wondered if she had the nerve to act out her fantasies. She could certainly justify the need. After ten years, she obviously wasn’t going to get Roman out of her system by pretending he didn’t exist or she wasn’t attracted to him.

She hadn’t gotten over him by ignoring the feelings. Why not try to get over him by acting on those feelings instead? She wasn’t doomed to repeat her mother’s mistakes if she learned from them.

Her heart picked up rhythm as she contemplated the idea of allowing herself to indulge. In Roman. With Roman.

“Okay, we’re set.” Beth’s voice rang out from the front of the store and the jangling of the store bells jolted Charlotte back into reality. Unfortunately, arousal didn’t dissipate as quickly.

Charlotte shook her head. Time to concentrate on her reasons for wearing these undergarments. To show off her crocheting skills to her mother and perhaps get Annie to use these same garments to break out of her own private prison. Both mother and daughter had huge steps to take in their lives, Charlotte thought.

Footsteps, obviously Beth’s, traveled to the back room.

“Ready or not, here I come,” Charlotte called and stepped out of the small, enclosed room and into the open area with the Queen Anne chairs. But instead of her mother and Beth, she had an audience of one.

One incredibly sexy, virile male named Roman Chandler.

Roman stared at Charlotte’s practically nude body in complete shock. The most erotic bra and panty set he’d ever laid eyes on hugged the supple curves of the most gorgeous woman he’d ever seen. The same one he’d wanted for what felt like forever.

No way in hell was he prepared for this. He’d finally made up his mind to keep his distance, and now Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

this.

“Roman?” Her eyes opened wide, and to his relief, she began a dive for the protection of the swinging café-type doors. Unfortunately, she paused.

Waiting? Debating? He didn’t know, but he had a perfect view of her pale, slender back, tapered waist, and enticing hints of skin on her delectable behind.

And then she turned, slowly, placing one hand on top of the slatted door. Her milk-white breasts pushed upward over knitted black material, full and lush, calling to him. Begging him to forget his newly made vow to steer clear.

She faced him without running to get dressed. Roman hadn’t known she possessed such courage. Yet another facet of her discovered. But brazenness wasn’t all there was to this incredible woman. The trembling and her uneven breaths told him she was far from composed. Definitely not the ultimate seductress, he thought, and thank God. Her softer, innocent side would keep him centered and restrained. Something had to, because his body was fighting him every step of the way.

“Where’s my mother and Beth?” she asked.

Those amazing green eyes met his and a fall of tousled black hair hung over one bare shoulder, causing him to wonder what the silk strands would feel like on his bare skin.

“Beth said to tell you she was taking Annie home and she’d be back later. Much later.” Obviously the soon-to-be-married Beth had seen an opportunity to play matchmaker and she’d taken it.

“A setup,” Charlotte murmured, obviously realizing the same thing Roman had. “And you’re here because . . . ?”

“You’ve got something I need.” He cursed silently. He hadn’t meant to sound so damn suggestive.

She inhaled deeply. For courage? Roman didn’t know, but he needed a dose himself, because she stepped forward, not stopping until she was close. So close he could smell her fresh as spring scent and wanted more.

“So what can I get for you?” she asked.

“Rick said he’d called and asked you to leave a list of customer names in an envelope for him.”

Something related to the panty thief, though Roman hadn’t asked specifically what.

She nodded. But she didn’t make a move to get the envelope Rick promised would be waiting for Roman, nor did she make a move to get dressed. He didn’t know what had prompted Charlotte’s change of heart since the last time he’d seen her, but there was no doubting she’d approached and cornered him now. Apparently she had an agenda of her own, but damned if he knew what it was.

Roman let out a sharp exhale. The tables had turned. Predator had become prey, and he didn’t miss the irony. “Where are your clothes?” he asked.

“Why do you care?”

Desire trod a heavy beat inside him, powerful and consuming. All his concentration went into keeping his Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

eyes trained on her face and not on her luscious body. “What’s going on, Charlotte?” Damn. Her name sounded like a caress and a heated warmth rushed through his veins.

She lifted one delicate shoulder. “Why are you suddenly fighting what you said you wanted? What you dared me to give?”

She’d avoided his question, asking one of her own instead, her voice hesitant despite her bold stance.

But he couldn’t answer her without betraying his brothers, their coin toss or Roman’s own plan. He could barely face it himself.

He refused to reveal it to Charlotte. “You turned me down flat. What’s with the change of heart?”

She was barely dressed and offering him his heart’s desire. But he had to fight it or risk jeopardizing the job he loved and the future he wanted.

“I didn’t think you’d care about the hows or the whys.” She reached for the collar of his denim shirt and ran a shaking finger down one pointed edge.

He actually broke into a sweat. “I do have morals and standards, you know.”

“You’re also up front about your intentions. You aren’t sticking around. I appreciate your honesty.”

“I’ll always be honest with you, Charlotte.”

“Well, I decided that works fine for me.” A hesitant smile tipped her lips. “You want to acknowledge the attraction? So do I.” She swallowed hard. “I . . . I want you, Roman.”

“Oh, damn,” he muttered. What kind of man could resist a declaration like that? His hand came around the back of her neck, his fingers threaded into her hair, and he sealed his mouth tight over hers.

This first kiss began gently, indulging the need to explore, but quickly flared out of control, thanks to the hunger of too many pent-up years. A driving need to make up for lost time consumed him. Hot and ravenous, he ran his tongue over the seam of her lips, demanding entry, and she gave it to him. She was moist and damp inside, sweet and pure, and she tasted too damn right.

A throaty moan escaped her lips. He wasn’t sure who moved first, but she backed up and he followed, his mouth never leaving hers. They hit the wall behind them. Once they were in the small, enclosed dressing room, the swinging doors closed shut, sealing them inside. His hands traveled from her neck to grip her waist, pulling them into intimate contact. His groin nestled into the vee of her legs and his erection grew, swelling with need as he found a warm and welcoming home.

Her damp feminine heat cushioned him through the rough denim of his jeans. “Sweet Jesus,” he muttered, his body full to bursting. The barrier of clothing was restricting and a sweet yet painful ache begged for fulfillment. He shifted from side to side, seeking deeper access than was possible.

As if she’d read his mind, her legs slipped open wider, and he sucked in a ragged breath. They were cheek to cheek, her hands gripping his shoulders, her fingertips digging into the skin beneath his shirt, and her breath came in shallow, uneven gasps.

She surrounded him. Physically, her body cradled his, and when he inhaled he was enveloped in her essence. Her scent fulfilled him in a way that surpassed mere sexual need, and that was the notion that Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

brought reality surging back. “What the hell are we doing?” he managed to ask.

She let out a shaky laugh, her breath hot on his skin. “I don’t know what you’d call it, but I’m getting you out of my system.”

As if such a thing were possible, he thought. Ten years later, and this was still the only woman who jumbled his emotions along with his hormones. She had the ability to make him throw his resolutions to hell and back.

Her head resting against the wall, she studied him through glazed eyes. “You have to admit, the idea’s got merit.”

He stepped back and ran an unsteady hand through his hair. The idea had merit—if he had the time to play around until he tired of her. Assuming he ever tired of her. Roman had his doubts.

He also had his plan. A destiny he hadn’t intended but had to fulfill, thanks to the flip of a coin and strong family obligation. Right now he hadn’t a clue how he was going to accomplish his objective, but this woman was hazardous. She didn’t want a long-term commitment with a man who didn’t plan to stay in Yorkshire Falls. That alone put her off limits.

But Roman also feared she had the ability to pull him back to her, to this town, and make him forget the dreams and life goals he’d always had.

The more he indulged, the deeper she drew him in. “Getting you out of my system’s a damn good idea. I haven’t a clue how to go about it, but this . . .” He gestured between her nearly naked body and his thoroughly aroused one. “Isn’t the smart way of doing it.”

Before he could change his mind, he turned and stormed through the swinging doors, the hinges creaking in his wake. He didn’t let himself look back.

Only after he was safely back on the street did he realize he’d forgotten Rick’s list of possible suspects.

And no way was he walking back into the fire now.

CHAPTER FIVE

The streets of Yorkshire Falls were empty as most of the town gathered inside town hall. After getting a breath of fresh air, Charlotte walked inside to her volunteer workstation, where she acted as punch bowl lookout. On a typical day, no smart adult would touch the punch bowl filled with green liquid, but at the Annual St. Patrick’s Day dance, everyone indulged in the colored Kool-Aid.

She told herself she was better off concentrating on making sure no one spiked the punch bowl than on Roman. Just remembering their sensual run-in earlier that day caused goose bumps to prickle along her skin.

She’d gathered every ounce of courage she possessed to turn back toward him and reenact her fantasy.

To reach out for him first. To accept and give in to his kiss despite knowing he could hurt her badly. And he had. The man had given her ego a huge bruising she wouldn’t soon forget. Now she knew how he’d felt all those years ago. Payback sucked royally, she thought.

And yet she couldn’t deny his lingering appeal. She let her gaze wander across the packed room. He Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

was scrumptiously alluring in black jeans and a white pullover shirt. He stood out from the crowd, and not just by defying convention and not wearing green. Her eyes were drawn back to him again and again.

Apparently the problem wasn’t mutual, because he hadn’t once glanced her way.

Instead he drifted from single female to single female, plying his charm, easy grin, and sex appeal. It galled Charlotte to see that he had an extremely receptive audience. She was merely one of many. And it hurt.

She arrived back at her station to find she had company. Raina Chandler sat behind the long table serving as a makeshift bar. “Hi, Raina.”

The older woman graced her with a huge, welcoming smile.

“Let me look at you.” Charlotte stepped back and took in the older woman’s appearance. She was slender as always and a makeup-induced glow radiated in her cheeks. From looking at Raina, Charlotte couldn’t tell she’d been in the hospital. “You look wonderful!”

“Thank you. I’m trying not to let my health get me down.” Raina’s glance darted sideways, then back again.

“Well, haven’t seen you all week. I hope that means you’re taking good care of yourself. One hospital trip is one too many.”

Raina nodded. “I’m learning to be more cautious,” she acknowledged. “Now back to you. I’ve come to relieve you. Go mingle.”

“Oh, no.” Charlotte shook her head. “I’m not going to let you stand on your feet and handle punch bowl duty. You need rest.”

Raina waved a hand in the air, dismissing the possibility. “I’m not your replacement.”

Charlotte glanced around, but she didn’t see anyone with her. “Who is? Not my mother, I hope?”

“Last I saw, your mother was doing quite nicely. Socializing, even.”

“Dennis Sterling?” Charlotte asked, unable to hide the hope in her voice.

“Unfortunately, Dennis is going to be late.”

“Darn.” As the town’s only veterinarian, any animal emergency fell into Dennis’s lap.

Raina patted her hand. “Don’t worry. If the man’s interested, once he takes a look at your mom tonight, he’ll be persistent.”

“Isn’t she gorgeous? I picked her dress myself.”

“Your taste is impeccable, as always. You look beautiful too.”

“Thank you.” Knowing she’d picked out this outfit with Raina’s youngest son in mind, Charlotte felt the heat rise to her cheeks. Especially since she’d decided to go with something daring, an outfit she’d purchased during her New York City days.

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Maybe he’d been able to resist her enough to pull away, but not before she’d felt his body’s reaction to her. The man wasn’t immune. And tonight she needed the ego boost of having his appraising eyes focused on her. Unfortunately, that blue gaze wasn’t nearly as interested in her tonight as she’d hoped.

“I understand you and my youngest had a run-in,” Raina said, as if she could see into Charlotte’s innermost thoughts.

The flush turned into a full-fledged burn in her cheeks. Who could possibly have seen her with Roman?

she wondered, this afternoon’s events playing out in erotic detail in her mind. “I . . . uh . . . we . . .”

“Met up again in Norman’s a few nights ago. Rick told me.” Raina ignored Charlotte’s exhale of relief and merely patted her hand once more. “You never know what might develop after years apart. I’m here to give you a chance to put that sexy outfit to good use. Sam’s going to watch the punch bowl, aren’t you?” Raina reached behind her and pulled the town’s ultimate loner into view.

“Hi, Sam.” She was surprised he’d ventured into a crowded function, but free food and drink might explain that.

“I wanted to ask you how you two were acquainted,” Raina said.

“She’s just a sucker for an old man,” he muttered. Charlotte nodded. She’d always had a soft spot for the loner.

“And Sam sometimes does errands for me.” Mailing letters and such in return for cash that enabled him to buy food, she thought, but she didn’t say that out loud.

He was a proud man few in town bothered to know or understand. But even as a little girl, she’d remembered seeing her mother reach out to him. Charlotte was saddened, on her return to Yorkshire Falls, to see Sam’s solitary life had stayed the same, and she’d gone out of her way to help him without directly offering charity.

“Well, now he’s going to watch the punch bowl,” Raina said.

“Freeing you to dance with me.” Rick Chandler appeared on the opposite side of the table, cornering her in front of his mother with a wink.

The last thing Charlotte needed was time alone with another Chandler man. “As long as I’m being relieved, I think I need some air.”

“You just got some, didn’t you?” Raina called her on her bluff.

Rick met her gaze. “I need you to bolster my reputation around here. The women are turning me down left and right.” He eyed her pointedly and she understood he wanted to talk without creating a scene or a distraction. Police business, probably. She still owed him the list of customers who’d purchased or ordered the handmade panties from her shop.

Better cooperate with Yorkshire Falls’ finest, Charlotte thought. “I think a dance will do me more good than fresh air.”

Rick pushed the table back to make room for her to slip through.

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“And that means I can get back to my . . .” Raina’s voice trailed off and she placed a shaky hand on her heart.

“Mom?” Rick asked.

“I’m okay. It’s just that maybe coming out tonight wasn’t such a good idea. Palpitations.” She glanced away, toward the far wall. “I’ll just get Eric to sit with me until he can take me home. He’s my . . .”

“Date,” Rick offered, guiding his arm around his mother’s waist. He shot Charlotte a worried glance, but pasted a smile on his face, obviously playing it light with his mother. “You can say it. You’re here with your date.”

“I’m here with my doctor.”

“Who’s suddenly paying exclusive attention to one patient?” Rick smiled knowingly at his mother, then gestured across the room, calling the doctor over.

“It’s like you said, I’m his patient.”

But Charlotte noticed Raina couldn’t meet her son’s gaze.

“Who’s the lucky woman tonight?” Raina asked in an obvious subject change.

“I told you they won’t have anything to do with me.” He winked Charlotte’s way.

“What happened to Donna Sinclair?” his mother asked.

“She only wanted me for my body.”

Raina rolled her eyes and Charlotte couldn’t help but laugh at the byplay, though she too was concerned about Raina’s health.

“Erin Rollins?”

“Last month’s news, Mother.”

“Then maybe you could try cheering up Beth Hansen.”

At the mention of Beth’s name, Charlotte started, then grew concerned. “Why? Isn’t she with David?”

Charlotte didn’t expect Beth and her fiancé here, not when they hadn’t seen each other going on two weeks.

“I haven’t seen Beth but I hear her fiancé’s a no-show and figured she’d need a shoulder,” Raina said.

“But that could just be hearsay.”

Charlotte sighed. “I’ll stop by on my way home and talk to her.”

Raina nodded. “One of you should. Now, Rick, since Charlotte’s taken that job, how about you ask Mary Pinto to dance? She’s over there by her mother’s wheelchair.”

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He shook his head.

“Lisa Burton?” She pointed to the conservative schoolteacher standing by the wall.

He sighed. “I can find my own dates, Mom. And I’m here talking with Charlotte now. Are you trying to scare her away?”

“Funny. From what I hear of your brother’s behavior when Charlotte’s near, I thought Charlotte was his concern, not yours.”

Before Charlotte could react, Dr. Fallon came up beside them. He promised Rick he’d sit with Raina until she got her strength back, and then he’d drive her straight home. He steered Raina away with a firm hand at her back.

Rick stared after them, amused by the new couple, but obviously very concerned about his mother’s health. “She can’t be in better hands,” Charlotte said.

“I know.”

“Anyone ever tell you you Chandlers are like hurricanes?” she asked, speaking of Raina’s references to Roman.

Rick shook his head. “Not lately, but it’s as good a description as any.”

“I adore your mother, but sometimes she can be . . .”

“Blunt,” Rick said.

“An admirable trait when aimed at others,” Charlotte said with a laugh. “Twice as admirable when she’s accumulating business for me. It’s just that . . .”

“She embarrassed you talking about Roman.”

Charlotte nodded. “Before we dance, do you want to make sure your mother’s okay?”

“No. You said it yourself. She couldn’t be in better hands than her doctor’s. So may I have this dance?”

He held out his hand. “You can whisper customer names in my ear.”

She laughed. “Why not?”

He swung her into his arms and onto the dance floor in time for a slow dance. It wasn’t the most orthodox place to discuss the panty thief. They bumped into many couples on the crowded floor, Pearl and Eldin included. The living-in-sin duo were slow dancing together, too slow in deference to Eldin’s bad back. Watching them, happy at their age, should have given Charlotte hope for her own future, but increased her longing for Roman instead.

“Customers, Charlotte,” Rick whispered, bringing them cheek to cheek.

“You’re one smart cop.” She laughed and whispered the needed information in his ear. He had his list of her customers at last.

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But the best part of the dance had to be the fact that dancing with Rick had done what Charlotte and her outfit could not. She finally had Roman’s attention. He was looking their way, a scowl on his handsome face.

If Roman strangled his brother, he’d burn in hell, but it might be worth the sacrifice just to get Rick’s hands off Charlotte’s bare back.

Roman clenched his fists at his sides, taking in her green leather pants and the handkerchief-style top that wrapped around her like a sarong and was tied in one knot in the back. One freaking knot that could open with the slightest breeze—or the nimblest fingers. Damn her for wearing an outfit that chic and suggestive anyway. This was a family event in town hall, not a New York City singles dance, for God’s sake.

“Yoo-hoo, Roman.” A feminine hand waved in front of his face. Terrie Whitehall. He’d forgotten he was deep in conversation about the rudeness of patrons to bank tellers. “What?” he asked, never taking his gaze from Charlotte and Rick. The traitor.

“I’m still not sure what I think of her,” Terrie said.

“What you think of who?” Roman had long ago perfected the art of repetition without truly paying attention.

“Charlotte Bronson. You’re staring at her, so who else would I be talking about?”

Caught in the act, Roman forced himself to refocus on the brunette looking at him as if he’d lost his mind.

“What about her?”

“She’s older than I am, mind you . . .”

“Just a year,” he reminded her.

“Well, she’s never done anything to me. Still, to come home and open up such a brazen shop . . .”

“I was under the impression most of the women, young and old, appreciated the cosmopolitan feel she’s brought to the town.”

“Some women, yes.”

But not the jealous, repressed ones, he thought, taking in Terrie’s severely pulled-back hair, spare makeup, and ruffled blouse buttoned up to her neck. What the hell had he been thinking, considering her for the mother of his child?

Roman knew darn well what he’d been thinking—that he’d find a woman the distinct opposite of Charlotte in looks. One who worked nine to five in a respectable job, who could provide him with the intelligent conversation he sought. Okay, so he’d found conversation. Some of it intelligent, most of it gossip, and too little of it savvy enough to hold his interest.

He’d also wanted to prove to himself that looks weren’t everything—and they weren’t, as long as the woman in question had a healthy respect for others, their occupations, and dress. This woman looked Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

down her nose at Charlotte’s choices. Scratch her off his list of wife candidates.

Along with the other half dozen women he’d spoken to or been cornered by tonight. After he’d left Charlotte in her shop, he’d gone home to take a long, cold shower and mentally distance himself from the one woman he wanted, so he could hit on the women he didn’t.

Backass logic, but then Roman figured this baby scheme was a backass plan to begin with. He looked across the room and spotted his mother. Raina was resting in a chair, deep in conversation with Eric Fallon, the family doctor. He hoped his mother hadn’t exerted herself by coming out to a party so soon after her trip to the hospital.

Someone ought to check on her and have a word with the doctor. He excused himself to Terrie. An idea in mind, Roman walked up to his brother and, without a word to Charlotte, grabbed Rick by the shoulder. “I think you ought to check on Mom. She looks kinda pale and she’s been sitting in one place most of the night.”

Rick inclined his head toward Roman. “Check her yourself. Can’t you see I’m busy?”

“She doesn’t listen to me. Because I’m not normally around, she thinks I’m fussing too much.” Which was true—as far as it went. Raina didn’t listen to anyone, all three of her sons included. But if it got his brother’s hands off Charlotte’s back and waist, Roman would consider the half-truth worth telling.

“Take a hike,” Rick shot back.

“I think Roman’s got a point.”

Charlotte’s soft voice hit Roman in the gut, but he ignored the burning sensation. “If you’re the one who Raina will level with, go make sure she’s okay,” she said to Rick.

“She’s sitting with her very own doctor, for Pete’s sake.”

Point to Rick, Roman thought and met Charlotte’s gaze. If she knew he wanted only to relieve her of his brother’s company, she wasn’t letting on. In fact, when she looked at him, her normally warm eyes were cold as ice.

He’d wanted her anger. On some level, he’d courted it intentionally so that he could more easily put her behind him and go on with his mission. But talking to the women in this town had left him empty inside.

And his feelings for Charlotte were as strong as ever.

How the hell could he find another woman to marry—and sleep with—when the only one he desired drew him back to her over and over again?

“Rick, please? If Roman’s worried, he obviously sees something worth checking on.”

When Rick didn’t move, Charlotte spoke. “Tell you what. You two talk. I’ll check on Raina.”

Before either brother could react, Charlotte disengaged herself from Rick’s grasp and sauntered over to the other side of the room, far away from either Chandler brother.

“You’re lame, pathetic, and obvious,” Rick muttered.

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“So are you. And it’s not like you’re interested in anything more than a good time, so keep your goddamn hands off. She deserves better.”

Rick studied his brother. “I like women’s company. All women, and there’s not one in this town who doesn’t know the score. They don’t get involved if they’re looking for more. I enjoy them, they enjoy me, and no one gets hurt.”

“Especially you?”

“Including me.” Rick shrugged, but the flicker of hurt flashed in his eyes.

Roman immediately regretted the pointed barb he’d shot his brother’s way. No one deserved to be used and hurt the way his middle brother had. Especially since he had everyone’s best interests in his heart at the expense of his own.

“Rick . . .”

“Forget it.” He brushed away Roman’s concern with his easy Chandler grin.

Roman groaned. He knew he’d overreacted. He wasn’t worried that Charlotte wanted anything more from Rick than a friendship. But rational knowledge didn’t mean Roman wanted to watch Rick’s too-friendly touches on Charlotte’s skin.

“Any chance you could enjoy someone else’s company?” he asked his brother.

“Why? Because she’s yours?”

When Roman didn’t respond to the bait, Rick stepped back, appraising him with the cop look that said, I’m figuring things out. “You’re the one in the market for a long-distance wife, little brother. If you’re so worried about Charlotte deserving better, seems to me you’d better take your own advice.”

“No shit,” Roman muttered.

“Back off. You’re hurting her with mixed messages.”

Roman knew Rick better than anyone, and he recognized that his brother was looking out for Charlotte’s best interest, and pushing Roman in the right direction at the same time. Rick didn’t care if Charlotte went into Roman’s arms or away from them as long as neither Roman nor Charlotte got hurt. It was his brother’s protective nature at play. The same protective nature that had gotten him in trouble once before.

But much as Roman hated to admit it, Rick had a good point. Roman was sending out mixed messages.

Charlotte had spent over ten years avoiding him and then, when she finally took him up on his overt signals, what did he do? He rejected her out of self-preservation—at her expense.

Rick slapped Roman on the back. “Now that we’ve cleared that up, I think I’ll set your mind at ease and check on Mom.” He turned and headed for Raina and Charlotte, leaving Roman to choke on his own words, the taste of them sour in his mouth.

After another half an hour of attempting to interest himself in the single women of Yorkshire Falls, Roman knew he was failing miserably. And all because of the green-eyed woman who’d bewitched him Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

from day one. Then there was his middle brother, who was hanging around Charlotte, baiting and aggravating Roman—intentionally, no doubt. If Rick was looking to get a reaction, he was too damn close to succeeding.

Especially when Roman turned toward the door in time to see Charlotte and Rick walk out together, his brother’s hand on the small of her naked back. He’d worry about self-control tomorrow, while self-preservation, he decided, was way overrated.

He stormed outside and into the dark night without looking back.

Raina watched her middle son leave with Charlotte to check on Beth Hansen while her youngest ran out of town hall, all eyes on his abrupt and angry departure. Her sons knew how to make an entrance, but they had to work on their exits.

Still, she couldn’t deny the sweeping sense of relief she felt with their departures. She’d have to sit tight.

Though she’d love a dance, she couldn’t afford gossip to reach her boys. They were too smart and might just figure out her scam if she wasn’t careful. Keeping up the charade of poor health was more difficult than she’d imagined when she’d concocted this idea.

She shook her head, then glanced over at the punch bowl. Samson had long since disappeared to be replaced by Terrie Whitehall, Roman’s leftovers. She sighed. Much as she adored her boys, she hated the devastation left in their wake. Raina felt particularly protective toward Charlotte. And the last thing she wanted Charlotte Bronson to be was a Chandler casualty.

A daughter-in-law, now, that was another story. “Looks like there are renewed sparks between Roman and Charlotte,” Raina said to Eric, pleased her youngest had shown emotion where Charlotte was concerned.

She didn’t put much stock in the way he’d sashayed from female to female tonight, ignoring the one who interested him most. And she knew Rick’s interest in Charlotte was purely platonic, meant to rouse his sibling’s jealousy and perhaps get him to make a move sooner rather than later.

Raina liked that idea. It just might work—if Roman didn’t kill Rick first. “Those boys will be the death of me,” she said aloud.

Eric bit into the carrots they’d loaded onto a plastic plate earlier. “You’re mothering again.”

“Do you think Roman’s gone after them?”

“Do you think he wants us speculating?”

Raina shrugged. “I’m sure the rest of the room’s doing the same. He wasn’t exactly discreet about his departure.” She tapped her fingernail against the seat of the metal folding chair. “Come to think of it, neither was Annie. Poor Charlotte. Do you think Annie’s depression is curable?”

He sighed. “Do you think I’m going to discuss a patient with you?”

“Potential patient. Charlotte said she wants you to treat her mother—assuming she has any kind of condition other than lovesickness. Charlotte’s a sweet, caring woman. She’d make a wonderful wife and Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

mother. Speaking of babies . . .”

“Let’s not.” Eric picked up another carrot from the plastic plate he held on his lap, dipped it into low-fat salad dressing, and popped it into Raina’s mouth.

She would have been offended if his tone weren’t so deep and compelling and his touch weren’t so warm. A long-forgotten heat rose inside her, starting in the pit of her stomach and spreading wide.

She chewed and swallowed the carrot, giving herself time to accept and adjust. “You’re trying to distract me,” she said when she’d finished eating.

“Your boys are gone. You don’t need to act so frail anymore. How am I doing?” He dipped and held up another carrot. “In the distraction department, I mean.”

“Not bad, for an old man.” She smiled, unable to believe she was flirting. Raina didn’t care if distraction was Eric’s intent, she liked the male attention and discovered she’d missed it more than she’d realized.

“Who are you calling old?” He dotted the carrot on the tip of her nose and quickly kissed off the bit of dip he’d left behind.

Desire she couldn’t mistake swelled in her chest. “You certainly don’t make me feel old,” she murmured.

She didn’t even care that they were in a public place where anyone could see.

“I should hope not.” He laughed and leaned closer, so he could whisper in her ear. “And I’m betting in time I can make you feel even younger. So young you’ll forget your quest for grandchildren and think about only me.”

“I’d like to see you try.” And try, and try. As long as he continued to make her feel young, vibrant, and alive, he had her permission to experiment all he wanted. She hoped Roman intended to do the same.

With Charlotte.

Charlotte left town hall with Rick and together they went to check on Beth. She rented a room in an old house on the outskirts of town. With its wraparound porch, trellis, huge front lawn, and the sunlight that shone into the kitchen, the house had the ambience of home. It was the exact type of place Charlotte had always dreamed of living in one day, when she had a family of her own. It was the dream she’d had when she wasn’t fantasizing about faraway places with exotic names and incredibly beautiful scenery illuminated by glistening water and the sun’s glorious rays.

Sometimes Charlotte thought she had a split personality, two people living inside her craving two different things. Still, both scenarios included sunshine and a happy ending, something she wanted for Beth too.

And there was no hint of either in her friend’s expression, which made Charlotte want to strangle Dr.

Implant. “Why couldn’t he make it this weekend?”

Beth shrugged. “He said he had an unexpected speaking engagement.”

Beth turned and stared out the window.

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“Is that new language for something suddenly came up? ” Charlotte whispered to Rick.

He shot her a warning look, which she heeded. But she just didn’t understand why Beth’s fiancé didn’t bring her to the city or pay more attention to the woman he claimed to love.

“Maybe something suddenly did come up. Like a speaking opportunity he couldn’t turn down.” Rick walked up beside Beth and put a friendly arm around her shoulder.

“Then why didn’t he ask me to join him in New York?” She turned to look at Charlotte.

Charlotte inclined her head, having no answers. Her friend had a valid point, but she wasn’t about to admit it now.

“Maybe he didn’t want you to be bored,” Rick said. “And maybe—”

“He’ll make it up to you,” Charlotte added, picking up on his list of possible explanations. He obviously sought to protect Beth’s already bruised feelings, and he was right. There was time enough for Beth to face and accept the truth—whatever that was. Tonight she just needed her friends.

Charlotte glanced over to where Rick was showering Beth with attention in a futile attempt to restore her humor and self-esteem. Beth was even smiling at his bad jokes. At least someone was helping. Charlotte was in too foul a mood to do her friend much good.

First her mother disappeared out a side door just as Dennis Sterling walked in the front entrance, then Beth missed the town’s big night because she’d been stood up again. Charlotte didn’t know what was worse, a woman relying on a man for happiness or being manless and miserable.

Her stomach cramped and her heart lodged in her throat. Charlotte knew she was comparing herself with both Beth and Annie, fearful of being just like them. Both women were unhappy over a man. Even if miserable was too strong a word for how Charlotte was feeling now, she couldn’t deny that the emotions Roman evoked within her were strong.

He treated her to sexy come-ons, encouraging and emboldening her to act, then he shut her down without reason, and followed up the insult by first ignoring her and then showering other women with his charms. If only sexual attraction were at work, Charlotte could deal with this better. But her reaction to Roman went beyond the physical. She wanted to know the man inside the gorgeous body, and that frightened her.

Damn the man anyway. She rubbed her bare arms, wanting to go home. Her two friends were engaged in conversation, Rick providing a friendly distraction for Beth.

Charlotte slipped out without being noticed. The full moon in the night sky guided her way, the stars providing a glittering backdrop to the inky background above. The scent of the outdoors—new grass and flowers—accompanied every breath she took. She tried to give the panty thief some thought. Rick said things had been quiet during the week, but he didn’t consider the case over or forgotten. Charlotte drew a blank on who could be responsible, so she gave up trying.

Twenty minutes later, she was home and had shed her party clothes and changed into lounging wear—her favorite outfit, a white tank dress that hung to midcalf with a thick lace ruffle around the hem.

She’d snagged it out of the box before Beth could hang the garment or sell it to a customer. It was one of Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

the few items Charlotte had taken home instead of selling—because in it she felt feminine yet comfortable, and completely herself.

After mixing a glass of iced tea, she grabbed her favorite book, pushed open the window that led to the fire escape, and climbed out. The cool breeze brushed over her skin, but she didn’t mind. From the moment she’d seen this apartment, the hidden escape had been her favorite part of the deal—if she didn’t count the ability to roll out of bed and walk downstairs to work.

Anytime Charlotte climbed out here, she found herself alone, and she adored the solitude. She sat down, the oversized book in her lap, and began to browse through the pages. Of all the travel books and brochures she owned, Glamorous Getaways was her favorite. She’d purchased it with money from her first babysitting job and chosen it because the book highlighted Los Angeles, with the Hollywood sign nestled in the foothills. Within the City of Angels were the stars and celebrities, people like her father, she thought, when she was still little enough to dream.

Buying this book had enabled her to picture the places she thought he’d go, the restaurants he’d frequent, and the people he’d meet there. She’d conjured scenarios in which he’d take her by the hand and introduce her to the beautiful people while showing her the exotic places. Later, after she’d grown up and realized he wasn’t ever coming back for good, she’d substituted the dream of him taking her with him to traveling and seeing these places for herself.

But with that dream came the dreaded fear of being like the man she disdained, and Charlotte knew in her heart she’d never dare make those kinds of trips herself. Never again take the chance on being disillusioned by bitter reality. Or of turning selfish, like him.

Still, when she needed soothing, books like this one provided the distraction. She’d simply put her father and her past out of her mind, and enjoy the fantasy of travel and seeing wonderful new places. She inhaled deeply and flipped through the pages, but she wasn’t able to lose herself. Not tonight.

Just then, she heard a banging on her door. She rubbed her arms, realizing goose bumps had settled on her skin. The knock sounded again and she headed back inside to see who could possibly be out there.

Nearly midnight wasn’t appropriate calling time by Yorkshire Falls standards.

She placed the book back on the table and walked to the door. “Who’s there?”

“Roman. Open up.”

Her stomach did an unsettling flip. “It’s late.” And she wasn’t in the mood for any more push and shove between them.

He banged on the door once more. “Come on, Charlotte. Give me five minutes.” His voice was a deep, seductive rumble.

She leaned against the door—even with plasterboard between them, her body flushed with heat. “Go away.”

“Not until we talk.”

“Come by the shop in the morning.” When Beth was around as a buffer, Charlotte thought.

His fist pounded the door in response.

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“You’re going to wake the neighbors.”

“Then let me in.”

“I wish I could,” she said, too low for him to hear. No way could she allow him into her small apartment, where he’d overwhelm her with his presence, his scent, his essence. She tipped her forehead against the cool plaster but found no relief from the internal heat he inspired.

Silence descended from outside, and though it was what she’d told him she wanted and she ought to be relieved, Charlotte was disappointed he’d given up so easily. She walked back to the table, but the book, which she’d found appealing before, now just served as a reminder of pain. Suddenly a loud clatter reverberated from outside, the sound of heavy banging coming from the fire escape stairs.

Obviously the man didn’t give up as easily as she’d thought. Her heart rate picked up rhythm and her pulse pounded in her dry throat. She watched as Roman reached her terrace and ducked so he could wedge his big body through the window frame. He entered her apartment and rose to his full height.

He was imposing no matter when she saw him, but in her small apartment, his size and magnetism were overwhelming. She swallowed hard, wondering what he wanted—and if she’d have the strength to resist the tug-of-war he so enjoyed.

CHAPTER SIX

Charlotte stood in her apartment, hands on her hips, and eyed Roman warily. He felt like a first-class shit—which he supposed he was, considering all that had passed between them since his return, including his current uninvited entry into her apartment.

After leaving the dance, he’d hung around her building for the better part of the night. The longer she’d been gone, the wilder his imagination had grown, until he’d been forced to face the fact that when it came to Charlotte, his emotions were out of control. That she’d finally returned, alone, hadn’t made a bit of difference in calming him down. Though Rick respected brotherly boundaries, Charlotte by no means belonged to Roman.

No matter how damn proprietary he felt, he had to let go. His pacing time tonight had given him the opportunity to think, and Roman now knew exactly what he had to say to Charlotte. He just didn’t know how to begin.

“You’re strangely silent for a man who just broke into my apartment,” she said at last.

“I didn’t break in—”

“I didn’t let you in the front door, so what do you call barging in through the window?”

“Visiting.” Stalling. He ran a hand through his hair. “Obviously you’re not in the mood to talk to me, so how about you just hear me out?”

She shrugged. “You’re here. The sooner you talk, the sooner you’ll leave.”

Now that he’d entered the inner sanctum, leaving was the last thing he desired. Her small apartment was Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

frilly and feminine, much like Charlotte. He took in the white walls, yellow trim, flowered furniture, and though he ought to feel out of place surrounded by so much femininity, he was intrigued and aroused instead. The journalist in him wanted to dig deeper, learn more. The man in him just wanted her.

Looking at her skimpy tank dress pumped more adrenaline through his veins. Though obviously meant for casual comfort, it was completely sensual. The snow-white shade contrasted with her tousled black hair. For a color that symbolized innocence, the white sheath conjured thoughts that were anything but pure.

But he wasn’t here to indulge in the sensual dance they did so well. He was here to explain himself and his feelings—something Roman Chandler had never done before, certainly not to a woman. But Charlotte wasn’t just any woman. She never had been.

And she deserved to know his pulling back had nothing to do with his feelings for her and everything to do with their differences—and the fact that he respected her needs. “I need to clear some things up.”

“What things?”

“You talked about the need to get me out of your system and vice versa.”

Her eyes opened wide, her vulnerability as apparent as the sexual tension humming between them. “You rejected that offer, as I recall. You pushed me away, then ignored me in public and now you’re back, barging into my private space, wanting to talk. You’re interested, you’re not interested, you’re interested again.” Her hands waved back and forth in time to her rapid-fire talk and her quick pacing in front of him.

“Do I look like a pull toy to you?”

Her question confirmed Rick’s claim and Roman’s fears, that he was hurting her with mixed signals, and for that he owed her an explanation. But she didn’t give him a chance to respond.

“Or maybe that’s what you like—the chase. The forbidden. Maybe you’re one of those men who doesn’t want something once it’s too easy.” She shook her head. “And damn but I made it easy.” Her face flushed crimson with the memory of what happened between them in the dressing room of her store.

He caught her wrist on one of her walk-bys and held her in place until she met his gaze, her green eyes focused solely on his.

“You think I don’t want you?” he bit out through clenched teeth.

“I haven’t seen any evidence to the contrary.”

Her words were the equivalent of a dare, arousing his baser instincts. All good intentions aside, she’d pushed him to the edge and over. He stepped forward, backing her against the wall until their bodies aligned. No way could she miss the evidence of his desire any more than he could ignore her distended nipples, pointy and hard against his chest. Without waiting for a response, he bent his head for a kiss—a tongue-tangling, dueling kiss that was as mutual as it was hot.

Breaking the moment between them took all the resolve he had but he lifted his head. “How’s that for evidence?” He asked, still breathing heavily.

She sucked in a heavy breath, then pushed herself back. “Okay, Roman. No more games.”

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The last thing he intended was to play with her emotions, but every time she was near, his own feelings rampaged out of control, causing him to act contrary to common sense.

“What do you want with me?” She rubbed her hands up and down her skin, as if she could cradle herself in warmth and comfort.

He let out a groan. “What I want and what I can take are two different things.” They’d finally gotten to the crux of the matter. “I’m not staying in town,” he said, softer now, lowering his voice, speaking the one truth he knew would push her away. No matter how much it hurt him to do it.

“I know.” She bit down on her lower lip, gnawing the plump skin between her teeth. “And I wish my father had been as honest with my mother.”

Her words caught Roman off guard. He knew only what the rest of town knew—that Russell Bronson had breezed out of Yorkshire Falls, abandoning his wife and young child. He returned at intermittent intervals, stayed for a while, only to take off again. Roman also knew the abandonment caused both women much pain. Something he never wanted or intended to do.

He reached out and touched Charlotte’s cheek. “It’s not the same thing.”

“That’s because I’d know going in there’s no long-term commitment involved. Otherwise it’d be exactly the same.”

Her voice was husky and emotion-filled, reaching deep down and touching Roman’s heart. It had been a long time since anyone or anything struck such an emotional chord inside him. Not since his father’s death and the early years of his mother’s grief, and Roman instinctively rebelled against the welling feelings.

Unfortunately, the chord, once struck, reverberated with intensity and truth. And he didn’t like being lumped in a category that held the town’s deadbeat dad and wandering husband, the man who’d hurt Charlotte badly.

“I’d never dishonor my commitments that way.” But as Roman spoke, he realized that was exactly what he’d planned to do.

Get married, impregnate his wife, and get out. Exactly what Charlotte’s father had done to her mother.

Roman had just been too self-absorbed by the life change ahead of him to consider what his actions would or could do to the woman he involved.

He shook his head, disgusted. Even if his motives were unselfish, for his mother’s good and not his own, his actions were destined to hurt someone just the same. He swallowed a curse. Seen through Charlotte’s eyes, Charlotte’s past, his plans were disgraceful.

But the family obligation and his mother’s need remained. Roman could only hope his same plan, as selfish as he now realized it was, would be viewed differently by a woman who didn’t fear abandonment, who understood the way things had to be going in, and who wanted a child but not necessarily the typical family scenario too. Charlotte wouldn’t understand or accept. Another woman might. But if Roman didn’t get Charlotte out from under his skin as soon as possible, his promise to his brothers was in jeopardy.

“I know you’re not sticking around,” she said. “I knew that when I . . . when I approached you. But getting you out of my system—that has nothing to do with long-term. I don’t want a commitment from Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

you. I wasn’t asking for one.”

“But you’d resent me in the end. It’s not in you to accept less, and I can’t give more. I’m not the kind of man you need. The stay-around-forever kind of guy.” He shook his head. “Us getting involved would be foolish. And painful.” For both of them. “No matter how much we wish otherwise.”

She inclined her head and her cheek came to rest in the palm of his hand. “I know you wouldn’t.

Dishonor your commitments, I mean. You Chandlers are too forthright.”

If she only knew, Roman thought. Charlotte must never ever know about the coin toss and the damn deal. “We’re the town’s most upstanding citizens,” he said wryly.

“That’s why you’re here spilling your guts why you turned me down. It’s more than I once did for you,”

she admitted softly. “You’re a hell of a man, Roman. More than I ever gave you credit for.”

“Don’t make the mistake of painting me as a good guy,” he warned her.

She tipped her head back, looking at him through thick lashes. “I wouldn’t call you an angel, but you are looking out for me. I appreciate that even if I don’t like what I’m hearing.” A regret-filled smile tilted her lips.

“I can’t say I like it either.” Any of it. Despite his words of warning and protest, Roman desperately wanted to kiss those lips one last time. A final good-bye.

She must have read his mind, because she lifted up onto her tiptoes at the same time he lowered his mouth to hers. But a simple kiss wasn’t enough to satisfy his craving and he held her face in his hands, cradling her for deeper access to her moist mouth.

It was meant to be a farewell kiss, strong and hot enough to fill a lifetime of memories. He slipped his hands around her waist and began to bunch the material of her dress, pulling the soft cotton upward inch by inch until he could finally feel the bare skin on her midriff.

His fingers gripped her soft, warm flesh, and as she let out a soft sigh, his heart thudded harder in his chest.

And all of a sudden he knew—he couldn’t say good-bye any more than he could choose another woman as his wife to bear his children. Before he could process that thought, a loud knock sounded at the door, startling them both.

She jumped back and reality returned along with a banging that wouldn’t cease.

Roman expelled a frustrated groan. “Tell me you’re not expecting company.”

“I’m not.” She averted her eyes, unable to meet his gaze. “I wasn’t expecting you either, and there’s no one else who’d come by this time of night without calling first.”

“Good.” He wasn’t in the mood to deal with other human beings. “Go away,” he called out and got one of her elbows in his ribs.

“I said I wasn’t expecting anyone, but it could be important.”

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He let her go, shock still rippling through him at the conclusion he’d come to after that kiss.