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

“Open up, Roman. It’s the police.” Rick’s voice traveled to them.

Despite the somber mood that had settled between them, Charlotte failed to stifle a laugh and Roman wasn’t amused. Rick was the last person he wanted to see. Especially when just the thought of his brother and Charlotte still managed to charge him up.

As she walked to the door, she smoothed her wrinkled dress and ran a shaking hand through her messed hair. It was impossible to hide what they’d been doing.

Nor did he want to. Her well-kissed lips branded her, and damn if Roman didn’t like it that way.

So much for good intentions. He’d barged in to apologize for sending out those mixed signals. He’d intended to say good-bye and put an end to any illusions either of them held about each other. But with Charlotte, nothing was ever final or finished, no matter how hard he tried.

Realization dawned, taking him off guard. Good-bye wasn’t possible. Not with Charlotte. He couldn’t walk away from this woman and turn to another, no matter what his reasons.

He shook his head, knowing he’d had a shock just now. Knowing he’d give her one too. Instead of freeing himself for his potential wife hunt, Roman already had his candidate. One who didn’t want to play the stay-at-home wife to the long-distance, globe-trotting husband. There’d have to be compromises there. But that was okay. Even the best-laid plans often changed along the way. And when it came to Charlotte, he’d alter accordingly. He had no choice.

But first he had to convince her to give them a chance after his whole speech about walking away. He let out a groan. Roman knew she wouldn’t slam doors in his face. Given the chance, she’d sleep with him in an attempt to get him out of her system. And all the while she’d be trying to convince herself she could walk away in the end.

He had no choice but to convince her she was wrong. He’d have to take her there slowly, that much he knew. But this time there was no turning back.

His stomach churned with the conclusions he’d drawn, but dammit, they felt right. He rolled his shoulders, attempting to ease the tension, and before he could contemplate further, Charlotte had let Rick inside. Chase followed close behind.

Roman wondered what was up, to bring both his brothers to her apartment.

“Is Beth okay?” Charlotte met Rick’s gaze, concern for her friend obvious.

“She’s fine. I left her when I got an emergency call, but she was doing okay.”

“Then what’s going on?” She eyed Rick warily. “Roman doesn’t need a chaperone, so to what do I owe this visit?”

Roman wanted an answer to that as well.

“Let’s sit,” Rick said.

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“Let’s not,” Roman muttered. He didn’t want to prolong their visit.

“It’s the panty thief, isn’t?” Charlotte asked, her voice rising. “He’s struck again?”

“She’s smart,” Rick said. “Did you know she was smart, Roman?”

“Smart aleck.” Charlotte laughed.

Roman rolled his eyes, turned, and headed for the living area. Apparently he was in for a sit-down with his cop brother, his other sibling, and Charlotte, not his lover or even his ex-lover . . . but his future wife.

He refused to consider the ramifications if she refused him. Roman’s adrenaline began a steady pumping, nerves and acceptance warring for dominance. He could only imagine her reaction to his thoughts—but no way could he clue her in. Not yet. Not until he’d made her his in a way she couldn’t deny.

He lowered himself onto the butter-soft flowered couch. “What’s up?” he asked when they were all seated.

“Charlotte’s right. We’ve had another break-in.” Rick broke the silence first.

“And I’m going to press on it in the morning,” Chase said.

Roman nodded. He knew his older brother couldn’t keep another theft under wraps. That he’d done it at all was out of respect for the police and their need to investigate without tipping their hand.

Charlotte leaned forward. “Please tell me they didn’t steal the exact same brand.”

Rick nodded. “Jack Whitehall isn’t too thrilled about the brand choice either.”

“Frieda’s pair?” Charlotte placed her head in her hands and groaned. “I only just finished making them.

We mailed those to her house a few days ago.”

Roman picked up on something Rick had said. “What’s got Whitehall so upset, other than the obvious fact that his house was robbed?” Why would the older man give a damn what brand had been taken?

“Well, as far as Jack knew, his wife favored plain, utilitarian white,” Rick said.

“Frieda’s pair was white,” Charlotte said, in obvious defense of her customer.

“White and sexy,” Chase clarified. “We left them arguing over who she planned to wear the panties for.”

“She bought them for her husband’s seventieth birthday surprise,” Charlotte muttered. “Leave it to a man to draw all sorts of wrong conclusions.”

“Hey, go easy on the gender, babe,” Roman said and she slugged him in the gut with her elbow. He let out a grunt. At least the pain gave his body something to focus on other than his desire. And when the pain subsided, Roman turned to taking in his surroundings as a distraction from her luscious scent. He ran his hand over a glossy coffee table book that had seen better days.

“So that’s three robberies total . . .” she said.

“Five.”

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That number caught Roman’s attention.

“Five? ” he and Charlotte asked at the same time.

“Three occurred tonight alone. While the entire town was at the St. Patrick’s Day dance, some guy was out stealing women’s panties.”

“Who would do something so . . . so . . .” Charlotte rose from her seat, and, sensing her frustration, Roman didn’t try to stop her. “So juvenile? So stupid? So perverted? ” she asked.

Rick snickered. Roman had no desire to relive his youth in front of Charlotte. “Well, we can narrow down the list of suspects by knowing who we all saw at the dance.”

“There’s one problem,” Rick said.

“What’s that?”

“The timing won’t work. The last robbery took place around ten-thirty. Whitehall chased the guy into his backyard, but he was slick and made for the small stretch of woods. Then Whitehall’s asthma kicked in and the old man collapsed.”

“Damn,” Roman muttered.

“Exactly. We know it’s someone with good stamina. And if he hit two houses before ten-thirty, on different streets, far apart, he had plenty of time. Collectively we don’t know a damn thing. I left the party around nine forty-five, Chase never made it because he was working, and according to witnesses, you, little brother, took off by nine forty-eight.”

“Something Whitehall made certain we knew,” Chase said.

Apprehension settled in Roman’s gut. “Why?”

Charlotte stopped her pacing in front of where Chase sat in her oversized club chair. “Yes, why?”

Chase pinched the bridge of his nose and Roman knew he was in deep shit. “The old man was reminded of a certain prank Roman played a long time ago.”

“A long, long time ago,” Roman muttered.

“When he was juvenile and stupid,” Rick said, picking up on Charlotte’s chosen words.

“But not perverted,” Chase said with a grin.

“The panty raid,” Charlotte murmured. “It’s been so long I’d forgotten.”

“I wish everyone had.” Roman shot his brothers a nasty look.

“Still, why would Whitehall dig up an old stunt like that now?” she asked.

Roman rubbed his hands over his eyes. “Because the sleepover was at Jeannette Barker’s, but the Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

panties I snagged—”

“And hung from the rearview mirror,” Rick supplied ever so helpfully.

“Belonged to Terrie Whitehall,” Chase finished. “Who came racing into her parents’ home tonight just as we were leaving.”

Damn, how had Roman forgotten that? All the while he’d been talking to the prissy bank teller tonight and it’d never crossed his mind that he’d once stolen her underwear. “So when Terrie heard what was taken from her mother, she decided I had to be the culprit?” Roman asked with a disbelieving shake of his head.

“No, she just mentioned she’d seen you storm out of town hall. Unfortunately, she wasn’t the only one who saw you leave.” Rick rose and folded his arms over his chest. “Jack Whitehall fingered you as a possible suspect.”

Roman couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “That’s a crock of—”

“I agree, but once an accusation’s been made, I have to investigate.” In his best law enforcement stance, marred only by the half grin on his face, Rick turned to Roman and said, “Mind if I ask where you went after leaving town hall tonight? And if anyone can vouch for your whereabouts?”

Charlotte opened and closed her mouth in disbelief. Chase burst out laughing.

This night had been full of surprises, Charlotte thought as she walked Rick and Chase to the door. With Roman standing behind her, she had a hunch they weren’t over yet. “Thanks for stopping by to let me know there’d been another robbery.”

Rick paused in his tracks. “All kidding aside, we stopped by to warn you. There’s been five break-ins with one link and one link only— you. Not only do you sell the items that have been stolen, you make them.”

Roman’s eyebrows raised in surprise, but he didn’t ask questions, just took over. “Which is why I’m not leaving her alone.”

She shook her head and remained silent. She’d already anticipated Roman’s protective streak kicking in, but she planned to save the argument against his staying until they were alone.

She appreciated his concern, but it was unwarranted. The panty thief had struck homes of customers and no one had been hurt. She’d be careful, but she trusted she was safe. She couldn’t have him staying the night. With gossip as the town’s favorite pastime, she had no intention of her neighbors waking up to find him sneaking out the door—or fire escape—at the first crack of dawn.

“You’re safe enough when you’re home,” Rick said, eyeing Roman and helpfully giving her an out if she wanted one. “With neighbors on either side of you, no one would be foolish enough to break in here—but I suggest you keep that window shut tight and locked. At this point, you don’t want to take chances by giving any sleazeball who wants in an open invitation.”

She met Roman’s gaze out of the corner of her eye and somehow managed to stifle a laugh. They both Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

knew he was the last sleazeball who’d climbed through her window tonight, but she saw no reason to give his brothers any more ammunition.

They were lovingly hassling him enough already—something she’d never experienced in her lifetime. She was an only child who’d matured too quickly after her father left, while despite it all, the Chandler brothers had been able to grow up in due time and still be kids. Sibling rivalry, one-upsmanship, and love were so apparent among the brothers that being with them brought a lump to Charlotte’s throat. She hadn’t had any kind of true family unit and realized now how much she’d missed.

She glanced back at the open window. “I’ll take care of it, I promise.”

“We’re working overtime, but I can’t promise anything until we catch the guy, so watch out.”

She nodded once more.

Chase placed a brotherly hand on her shoulder. “Once I print the article, you can bet you’ll have a town full of people watching your back too.”

“Just what I needed, the spotlight on me and my life.” She sighed. “I hope this doesn’t kill my business. I can’t afford for people to be afraid to buy my goods.”

Rick shook his head. “The way I figure it, the worst-case scenario will mean a decline in sales in the garment of choice.”

“I hope you’re right.” Because she couldn’t afford a drop in overall sales and still pay her rent. Her savings from her days in New York wouldn’t last much longer and she was just beginning to see a positive cash flow.

“We’ll have someone patrolling the neighborhood, okay?”

She nodded and finally shut the door behind Rick and Chase. Then she steeled herself and turned to face Roman. He leaned one shoulder against the wall, sexy in his stance and confident in his expression.

If she didn’t know better, she’d say something had shifted between them. Again.

“What’s so different about the underwear that’s being stolen?” he asked.

“You tell me. You saw it yourself firsthand.” She swallowed hard. “In the dressing room the other day.”

The memory darkened his eyes to a stormy blue hue. “You handmade those?”

She nodded. He laced his hand through hers, his callused fingertips wreaking havoc with her nerve endings and sending white-hot darts of fire throughout her body. At last he held her hands up for further inspection. “I didn’t realize I was dealing with an artist.”

She let out a shaky laugh, unnerved by his touch and the longing he always inspired. “Let’s not get carried away.”

“Sweetheart, I saw those panties and I saw you in them. I’m definitely not exaggerating. In fact, I can see why a man would go to extreme lengths to get his hands on a pair. Especially if you were wearing them.” His voice lowered to a husky, seductive level.

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He turned her wrist out and placed a strategic kiss, followed by a nip of his teeth on one fingertip. Her nipples hardened with the first soft bite and as he moved on to each successive fingertip, her entire body raged with burning need.

She wondered where this was headed, why he’d started seducing her now, instead of saying good-bye.

She didn’t understand his sudden change in mood. She had no doubt that kiss earlier had been intended as a final farewell.

“Did you know I couldn’t take my eyes off you tonight?” Roman laved the inside of her wrist and blew cool air onto her dampened skin.

She stifled a delighted moan. “You could have fooled me.”

“I was trying to fool us both. Even tonight when I barged in here with the deluded notion I could walk away from you, I was trying to fool us both.”

Her heart caught in her throat and she listened carefully.

“Over the years I’ve perfected the art of watching without being caught. It’s a necessity in my line of work.” His mouth traveled up her arm, arousing her with the featherlight touch of his lips. “I was watching you.”

“Mmm. Then you definitely managed to fool me.”

“But I don’t think I fooled Terrie Whitehall,” he said when he’d reached her shoulder, then stopped to nuzzle the sensitive skin on Charlotte’s neck.

Her knees buckled and she leaned back against the wall for support. “So Terrie turned on you out of jealousy?”

“Sounds like it,” he said, his breath hot on Charlotte’s flesh.

He braced his hands on the wall behind her and sandwiched her with his lean, hard body. She struggled for even breaths as his erection, full and solid, came to rest between her legs. She tried to remember what they’d been discussing, but words failed her. “I can’t concentrate,” she murmured.

“That’s the point.” He threaded his hands through her hair. “Let me stay tonight, Charlotte. Let me take care of you.”

She’d expected this attempt to play bodyguard. “Your staying is not a good idea.” Much as she would have enjoyed it. She braced both her hands against his shoulders, but instead of pushing him away, she savored the heat and strength of his body against hers.

“Then why does it feel like one?” His hips jerked forward, thrusting his hard length against her feminine mound.

Waves of sensation rose to life. Her lashes fell and she savored the feeling. “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. You said as much earlier.” She recalled his words, the pain lodging in her throat.

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

“What?” Excitement and hope unlike any she’d known sizzled to life inside as she contemplated his words. “What are you saying?” she asked, because she had to be sure.

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

Her pulse began an unsteady beat. He’d taken her by surprise. Apparently he’d shocked himself too.

She understood the push and pull between them as well as he did.

But despite the fact that he’d taken her off guard, she’d already thought this possibility through. An affair with Roman wasn’t only what she wanted, but what she needed as well. Because by giving in to the desire that had been brewing for years, she’d give it a chance to run its course.

Without a doubt, Charlotte knew she’d be risking her heart. She’d walked away from him once before, and though she never admitted it, even to herself, she’d regretted it deep inside. She needed to experience making love with him. Needed the memories to cherish for a lifetime without him.

But she’d have closure. Unlike her mother, who subjected herself to an endless stretch of waiting ahead of her, Charlotte would be strong and come out whole.

“So can I stay?” he asked with that charming grin on his face.

“Because you think I need protection from a nonexistent threat or because you want to be with me?”

“Both reasons work for me.”

“I can take care of myself. Even Rick said I’m safe. As for the other . . . it’s too soon.” Charlotte wasn’t about to leap into bed with him no matter how hard her body protested against her decision.

She wanted time to assimilate his intentions. To know this time he wouldn’t change his mind again. But most of all, she wanted to get to know him better. All of him. She needed time to get inside both his head and his heart. Because when he walked away, as she knew he would, she had no intention of being hard to forget. Heaven knew, she wouldn’t forget him, even if she would be moving on.

Roman nodded, accepting her answer. He didn’t want to push, not when he’d made headway and broken past her wary barriers. She was laughing at his jokes, accepting his change of heart. It was enough for now.

After all his mixed messages, he didn’t expect her to open up and trust him overnight. “How about I sleep on the floor and play bodyguard?” he asked in a last-ditch effort to spend more time with her.

She shook her head and laughed. “Neither of us would get any sleep.”

“Sleep’s overrated. We could stay up talking.” At least he’d be by her side.

“We wouldn’t talk, and you know it.” Her cheeks flushed a healthy shade of pink. “But the neighbors would.”

Personally Roman didn’t give a damn what the neighbors said, but Charlotte did, and in a small town, Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

business was tied to reputation. He ran a frustrated hand through his hair, then he forced himself to accept what she was saying.

“You’ll call if you need me? If you even think you need me?”

She met his gaze. “Oh, I need you, Roman. I just won’t be calling for that kind of need.”

He exhaled hard. He needed her too. In a way that reached past sexual desire. Like she’d wrapped a hand around his heart. He just hoped like hell she planned to release him when it was time to move on.

Roman rose to a blanket of sunshine covering his childhood room and bathing his body in heat. He’d left Charlotte’s apartment, but she’d remained with him all night long, in dreams that were hot and compelling, yet strangely unfulfilled.

He shut his eyes and leaned back into his pillows, conjuring everything he’d learned last night. While she and his brothers had discussed the latest break-ins, Roman had used his talents for listening to one thing while taking in something else—and he’d discovered the glossy oversized books and magazines laid out on the table in front of him. The covers detailed distant places and glamorous locales. Some were domestic, others foreign, like castles in Scotland, or exotic, like the South Pacific. Nothing unusual for conversation pieces, Roman thought.

Many people bought similar oversized books for decorative appeal. But few people read them until they were well worn and even fewer left those dog-eared copies out for show. Charlotte had.

So as he’d glanced around, he’d been able to put a picture together in his mind, one of contradictions and enticements. Charlotte was feminine and sexy. Predictably, she liked flowers. Yet she was hesitant, uncertain of her appeal, and any bold moves didn’t come easily—which made her choice of business rather unpredictable, he thought. As were the undergarments she handmade. They exposed more than they hid—baring not just the skin beneath the crocheted panties, but Charlotte and her inner self.

The books revealed much more. Although she liked hearth and home in Yorkshire Falls, there was a part of her that was intrigued by foreign locales and exotic places. The notion brought a rush of adrenaline through his veins. She was more perfect for him than she was ready to admit.

Charlotte, he thought. She enthralled him in a way no story, no woman, ever had. He needed to win her over, to convince her that they were so intricately entwined, they had no choice but to make a life together work. Only then could he fulfill his obligation to his family and satisfy his mother’s desire for a grandchild. Only then could he return to life on the road, go where the stories took him, and continue to bring public awareness to important issues. And maybe one day, she’d want to travel with him.

“Oh, my God. Roman, wake up.” His mother’s voice traveled toward him.

There was something to be said for living alone, and when his mother barged into his room without knocking, he remembered what it was. Privacy.

He sat up in bed and yanked the covers over himself. “Morning, Mom.”

Her eyes glittered with knowledge and a touch of amusement that absolutely alarmed him. “Read this.”

She shoved the Gazette into his personal space, waving it in front of his face.

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He grabbed the paper. “ ‘PILFERED PANTIES,’ ” he read aloud.

“Nice alliteration,” she said. “Chase always did well in English.”

He glanced up at his mother and saw laugh lines creasing her cheeks. “Aren’t you concerned about the thefts?” he asked her.

“Rick’s got things under control. So does Chief Ellis. Besides, no one’s been hurt. Read the last line, Roman.”

Before he could comply, she whisked the paper out of his hands and read to him. “As of yet the police have no suspects, but Jack Whitehall chased a male, Caucasian, into his backyard before he disappeared into the woods behind the house. Although the police have yet to name a suspect, Jack Whitehall fingered Roman Chandler’s return as coinciding with the first theft one week ago. According to Mr.

Whitehall, Roman Chandler was behind a childhood prank involving stolen underwear. No charges were filed in the incident, which took place over a decade ago, and the police believe the incidents to be unrelated.”

“Nice piece of reporting,” he muttered.

“What do you have to say for yourself?”

He rolled his eyes. “Jesus, Mom, I was in high school.” What did she expect him to say?

But as for his brother, Roman was pissed. Even if the quote was attributed to Whitehall and denied by the cops, Roman couldn’t believe Chase would report such bullshit. “You’d think Chase would have more sense than to—”

“Chase reports the facts, young man. Don’t go blaming your brother for things coming back to haunt you.”

Roman hadn’t heard his mother take that no-nonsense tone with one of her sons in years. Given the soft-spoken voice she’d developed since her illness, her tone surprised him now. But she’d never put up with one brother being angry at another, and that wouldn’t change just because she wasn’t feeling well.

She believed her boys should be a unit. Stick together no matter what.

Most times Roman agreed. Now wasn’t one of them. But he didn’t like her pacing or worrying because he was annoyed with Chase. “Sit down. Getting upset isn’t good for your heart.” He patted the bed.

She looked startled, then lowered herself slowly to the foot of the bed. “You’re right. I just thought you ought to be prepared. You’ve been fingered as a panty pirate.”

Roman could do nothing in return but scowl and fold his arms across his chest.

“The one thing I can’t figure is what the women’s reaction will be.”

He braced himself. “What do you mean?”

His mother shrugged. “I’m not sure if they’re going to throw themselves at you or run the other way. For your sake, you’d better hope it’s a turn-on. I hope it’s a turn-on, or those grandchildren I want are an Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

even longer ways off.”

Roman muttered a curse. “How about you pick on Rick or Chase?”

Raina tapped her foot against the hardwood floor, narrowly missing the braided rug she’d bought him years ago. “Unfortunately, your brothers aren’t here right now.” She picked up the article and seemed to skim it once more. “You know, the more I think about it, the women in this town will probably steer clear until the charges are dropped. No one wants to be involved with a convicted felon. Even a potentially convicted felon isn’t someone a nice girl would bring home to Mom and Dad.”

“Jesus, Mom,” he said again.

“Didn’t I tell you these things come back to haunt you? It’s just like SAT scores or your grades in ninth grade. They affect the college you got into. But would you listen? No. You knew best.” Without warning, she whacked him on the shoulder with the paper, “Didn’t I tell you this would resurface one day?”

Sensing she was just getting started, Roman groaned and pulled the covers back over his head. He was too old to be living with his mother and too tired to deal with this now.

CHAPTER SEVEN

The line started forming outside Charlotte’s Attic at nine forty-fiveA .M. Charlotte glanced at Beth, who wasn’t discussing anything with her except business. Apparently she was talked out from the night before and Charlotte respected her privacy—for now. She fully intended to corner her friend by the end of the day and find out exactly what was going on.

“Did you advertise a sale and forget to tell me?” Beth gestured to the throng of waiting women outside.

“I wish.” Charlotte knitted her brows in confusion.

She walked to the front and unlocked the door. The women poured in as if she were giving merchandise away, and surrounded her until Frieda Whitehall stepped forward, obviously the spokesperson. The older woman had graying hair, cut and set in the only style Lu Anne knew. Frieda typically dressed in polyester pants with matching, hand-washable silk blouses, and today was no different. But Charlotte knew Frieda wanted to put the sizzle back into her marriage, and so she had purchased Charlotte’s hand-knit bra and panty set.

“What can I do for you ladies?”

“We’re interested in the . . .” Frieda cleared her throat and blushed.

“The pilfered panties,” Marge Sinclair called out from the back of the crowd. “My Donna could use a pair too.”

“And I need to replace mine,” Frieda said. “I’d also like a pair for Terrie. Maybe they’ll loosen her up a bit.”

“Pilfered panties?” Charlotte blinked in surprise. “You mean the crocheted ones.” Obviously the robbery had become common knowledge. News traveled fast in this town and only Rick and the police chief’s pleadings had kept the situation quiet after the initial break-ins.

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“We’d all like a pair.”

“All of you?”

The murmur of assent rose, while the storefront had become a revolving door of women. Some of them were older, some younger, all of them interested in Charlotte’s “pilfered panties.”

“We don’t keep them in stock, you understand.” Beth had taken over. “These are individually made. I’ll take your names, color preference, and measure you for size. Line up and we’ll get started.”

“What in the world is going on?” Charlotte asked. Just last night she’d been worried about losing business, and now there was this deluge of customers for the very style of panties that encouraged robbery. At this rate, she’d be busy crocheting through Christmas, nine months away.

“Have you seen the morning paper?” Lisa Burton, an old classmate of Charlotte’s and now a respected schoolteacher, asked.

Charlotte shook her head. She’d overslept, thanks to a restless night with fevered dreams starring herself and Roman. “No time for paper or coffee. Why?”

Lisa’s eyes glittered with excitement as she handed over a copy of the Gazette. “If there was one man in this town you’d want to break into your home and steal your panties, who would it be?”

“Well . . .”

Before Charlotte could respond further, Lisa answered her own question. “A Chandler man, of course.”

Charlotte blinked. “Of course.” Roman was the only Chandler who interested her, not that she’d share that truth aloud.

And she didn’t need him stealing her panties, she’d willingly hand them over—so would half the women in this town, she realized. She recalled his brothers’ accounting of last night’s theft and the accusations surrounding Roman. Chase had said he was going to press.

“What did the paper say exactly?” she asked her friend. “Don’t leave anything out.”

Half an hour later, Charlotte had locked her doors, needing a break. In her possession, she had a new list of women who wanted to purchase her panties, many of whom desired luring Roman Chandler into their homes.

“I’m going to be sick.” Charlotte lowered herself into the chair behind her desk. She left Beth out front, organizing and straightening the store after the morning’s madness, while Charlotte made a copy of the list of names to give to the police.

Not only had they taken orders for the most expensive items in the store, but she’d sold things to the women while they waited—sachets for inside the drawers, lingerie hangers, and other items of clothing. It was the most successful day she’d had since opening, and it wasn’t yet noon. But instead of feeling satisfied, Charlotte was ill at ease.

She disliked earning money because of Roman’s bachelor reputation. Jealousy seared her heart as she Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

thought of all the women who’d mentioned his name in her shop today. She resented being slapped with the reminder of what and who he was: a wanderer who loved women. And she’d agreed to be one of those women—until he left town. Charlotte shivered, yet nothing that had happened this afternoon changed her mind about the course she and Roman had chosen.

She glanced at the paper Lisa had left behind and shook her head. Roman was many things, a bachelor and a wanderer included, but he wasn’t a thief. And she didn’t believe for one minute he was behind the robberies. The idea was ridiculous and the fact that grown women had bought into the suggestion floored her. They were building a fantasy concept around the entire idea. Around him.

Charlotte understood the desire to do so, but she also knew better than most: Fantasies didn’t come true and reality was a much harsher teacher.

Roman made certain to overexert himself with push-ups and a hard run before showering, getting dressed, and heading on over to the Gazette offices. He was hoping to eliminate the driving urge to put a fist through his big brother’s even bigger mouth. As a reporter, Roman respected the truth, but in this case, he figured there had to be a better way to deal with town gossip than giving it more credence by putting the speculation in print. Damn people in this town had memories longer than an elephant’s.

He drove down First Street, car windows open, the fresh air waking him up and calming him down. He slowed as he passed Charlotte’s Attic. A small crowd had gathered out front, which surprised him, considering she’d been worried about the thefts adversely affecting her business.

He wanted to see her badly. Thanks to the morning’s paper and his new notoriety, Roman needed to steer clear of Charlotte’s Attic. The home of the pilfered panties was the last place Roman Chandler needed to be seen.

He pulled his car to a stop at the traffic light at the edge of town. A gray sedan squeezed alongside. He glanced over as the driver lowered the passenger window. Alice Magregor, Roman realized. Her hair no longer exploded upward, but was now puffed out like a lion’s mane. Still, Roman summoned a friendly smile for Alice.

She reached down to the seat beside her, then lifted her hand and waved something in the air before honking twice and driving away.

He blinked. As the light turned green, it dawned on him—Alice had just waved a pair of panties at him.

She’d issued the ultimate female challenge. Come and get me, big boy.

Just as he came to the conclusion that he wanted only one woman, the single females of Yorkshire Falls decided to declare open season. Roman let out a heavy sigh as he realized what was in store for him from the town’s feminine population. In his younger days, he’d have appreciated the attention. Now he just wanted to be left alone.

Hell of a way to embark on his crusade to get Charlotte into his life, Roman thought, and experienced a renewed desire to pummel his oldest brother. No doubt Alice’s actions had been inspired by the article in the Gazette. Though Roman knew Whitehall was a biased source, now everyone in town had been reminded of Roman’s prank over morning coffee.

Five minutes later, Roman parked in front of the Gazette and walked up the long driveway. He paused Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

at the mailboxes, each marked with a different editorial department name. The boxes weren’t overloaded yet, but the Local section had more than its share, thanks to the editor’s long days with his wife and new baby. Roman grabbed the local information from the box, figuring a couple hours’ worth of writing would give Ty more time with his family.

Roman told himself he was getting involved with Gazette business as a favor to an old friend. Lord knew Roman’s actions sure as hell weren’t motivated by the desire to aid his older brother.

He walked inside. “Hi ya, Lucy.” He nodded to the receptionist, who was as much a fixture in this place as the foundation. She’d worked first for his father and then for Chase. She had a way with people and the organizational skills no newspaperman could live without.

“Hi, there, Roman.” She crooked a finger his way.

He came up beside her. “What’s up?”

She crooked her finger once more and he leaned closer. “What are you doing with the pairs you pilfer?”

she asked in a whisper. “You can tell me. Are you into cross-dressing now?” She winked and let loose a laugh.

He rolled his eyes, belatedly remembering she also had a wicked sense of humor. “That isn’t funny,” he muttered.

“If it’s any consolation, Chase didn’t want to print it—he just had no choice. Whitehall basically called his journalistic integrity into question if he held back because you two were related.”

Roman shook his head. “Where is he, anyway?”

Lucy pointed thumbs upward. Roman stormed up the stairs and entered Chase’s office without knocking.

“Mind telling me what the hell you were thinking?” Roman slammed the morning paper onto his brother’s desk.

“ ’Bout what?”

Roman leaned forward in a threatening stance that had no effect on his big brother. Chase merely relaxed further. He rocked backward, and the top of what was once their father’s leather chair touched the windowsill, blocking a view Roman knew by heart. The pond and aging willow trees standing guard below were as much a part of him as this old Victorian house that was and always had been the Gazette offices.

“You’re too smart to play dumb and I’m not in the mood for games. Any reason you had to use my name at all?” Roman asked Chase.

“I print the news. If I’d left out Whitehall’s quote, it would have been a glaring omission.”

“To who?”

“Anyone in town old man Whitehall talks to. I don’t want people around here thinking we play favorites or protect family members.”

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“A past prank isn’t news.”

Chase shook his head. “As a reporter you know better.” He rocked the chair forward. “You couldn’t give a rat’s ass what people think of you, so I can’t believe the article’s got you so bent out of shape.

What really has you so pissed off anyway?” He rose from his seat and walked over, his gaze never leaving Roman’s face.

“You go back to living with our mother and you won’t need to ask that question.”

“That’d drive you to drink, not want to put me through a wall. This has nothing to do with Mom. Come to think of it, you look like hell. What’d you do? Dig ditches last night, instead of getting laid?”

“It wouldn’t have just been ‘getting laid,’ ” Roman responded without thinking.

“Come again?” Chase pushed Roman into the nearest chair, then slammed the door to his office closed.

“Never know when Lucy’ll get bored and wander up here,” he explained, then opened the cabinet in the corner.

Their father had always stored liquor in there and Chase hadn’t changed things that much. He splashed two glasses of scotch and handed one to Roman. “Now talk.”

No matter that it was morning, Roman kicked back in the chair and downed the drink in one burning gulp. “I needed that. And I don’t have a clue what you mean.”

Chase raised his gaze upward. “You’re pissed as hell that you lost the coin toss. You’re pissed your life has to do a one-eighty, and because you think you owe me, you weren’t going to admit it.”

“Damn right.” There was no point in denying the obvious. Even if Charlotte made the prospect of marriage and children more appealing, his life plans had changed since his return home, and not by freedom of choice.

“Don’t do it if you can’t live with it.” Chase braced his arms on the desk. “I told you that night, no one would blame you if you backed out.”

“I’d blame me. Did I ever tell you how much I respect you for the decisions you made?”

“You don’t have to tell me. I know how many people you’re reaching with your news and your talent.

And every time I read a piece you wrote, every time you send clippings home, you show me what kind of man you are. And how much you appreciate everything you have in your life.”

Roman glanced at Chase and shook his head. “I’m not talking about how much I appreciate life. We both know I do. I’m talking about how much I respect you.” He stood and shoved his hands into his back pockets. “It wasn’t until I lost that coin toss that I fully understood the sacrifice you made. You did it young and I respect you for it.”

“Sacrifice is too strong a word,” Chase said as he inclined his head.

Roman had embarrassed his brother and Roman knew it was as much of an acknowledgment of thanks as he’d get.

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“Now tell me what Charlotte Bronson has to do with things,” Chase said.

Roman poured himself another drink. Because Chase had made tough choices in his lifetime, no one would understand better what Roman was going through now than his big brother. “I love my life. The travel, the stories, informing people about important things in the world.”

Chase shot him a wry smile. “Even when we were kids, I always related to you best. I saw myself in you.” He inhaled deeply. “When Dad died, I knew my dreams had gone with him. But if I couldn’t be the one to travel, I was damn well going to make sure you had the opportunities I didn’t.”

A swell of emotion rose in Roman’s throat. “I owe you for that.”

Chase waved away the words. “I didn’t do it so one day you could owe me. Payback is the last thing I want. If I still wanted to travel, I could get on a damn plane now. My life is fine. So if you can’t do this thing and be satisfied,” he said, speaking of the coin toss, “then don’t do it.”

“Hey, I have every intention of doing my duty, but damned if I can see myself tied to just any woman in this town. Not when . . .”

“Not when there’s only one you want.”

Roman reached for the bottle again, then shoved the liquor away instead. “Exactly,” he said, facing Chase’s words head-on.

He pushed himself out of the chair and walked over to the window. He gazed out at the scenery that had always given his father such great pleasure—he knew this because all three kids had taken turns sitting on their father’s lap as he typed in an article, took ads on the phone, or just hung out with his children, all with this view behind him. Computers replaced the old Smith Corona typewriters now, and the trees were larger, the roots buried deeper, but otherwise things hadn’t changed. Young as he’d been when his father was still alive, Roman’s memories were vague. But they existed on the fringe of memory and gave him comfort, even now.

“It’s obvious she’s interested in you too, so what’s the problem?”

Roman inhaled. “I don’t want to hurt her and everything about this coin toss and my plan reeks of her dad, Russell Bronson.”

“Damn.” Chase pinched the bridge of his nose.

“I’ll take that as an agreement.”

“So who’s in the running instead?” Chase asked.

Roman watched as a breeze blew through the branches on the not-yet-budding trees. Only the yellow forsythia and the newly green grass added color to the setting below. As he stared down, a distant memory came into focus, of a family picnic he’d had here, one planned by his mother in an attempt to get his workaholic father out for fresh air and time with the kids. He could almost smell the chicken sandwiches his mom had made and hear his father’s voice as he coached Rick on how to hold a bat while Raina pitched the ball.

When it came to his own child, Roman couldn’t imagine any woman other than Charlotte playing the role Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

of wife and mother—but neither could he picture himself settling down into the family role at the expense of the career he’d built and loved. But a child was in his future. And he didn’t want to make that child with any woman other than Charlotte.

“No one else is in the running.”

Chase came up behind him and slapped him on the back. “Then I suggest you figure out a way to convince the lady she can accept a long-distance marriage, little brother.”

Now, that was a challenge, Roman thought. Charlotte wasn’t ready to hear the words marriage or babies coming from his lips. Hell, he wasn’t sure he was ready to say them either. But he had to begin somewhere. “What’d you tell me when I wanted to do my first interview and I chose the mayor?” He’d been sixteen and convinced he could take on the world as a reporter.

“Start slow and learn as you go. Same words Dad told me. You impress me. I can’t believe those words penetrated that thick skull of yours.” Chase grinned.

“You mean since I parked outside the mayor’s office until he’d answer my questions, instead of going to the president of the PTA like you suggested?” Roman laughed at the memory.

“When it comes to Charlotte, I’m going to follow your old advice,” he said to Chase. “But don’t let it go to your head.”

Roman would start slow. Spending time and getting to know her again would be a pleasure. He didn’t have to worry about seduction. The attraction handled itself whenever he and Charlotte were together. If things worked out, he’d have the career he loved, and the woman he’d always wanted, not just in his bed, but in his life.

He started for the door.

“Where are you going?”

He turned back to Chase. “To make sure I get under Charlotte’s skin and into her life—to the point where she never wants me out.”

Charlotte closed the store for the day at five. Saturday night was officially upon her. She rubbed her eyes and glanced up at Beth, who was twirling a pencil between her hands. “What are you thinking?”

Charlotte asked her friend.

“Nothing.”

“Baloney. You’ve been avoiding any serious talk with me for the last two weeks. You need a friend and I’m it. So please, let me help you.”

Beth shook her head. “I wish I could, Charlotte, but you wouldn’t understand.”

Charlotte wondered if she should be offended. “Do I look that unfeeling to you?”

“No, just set in your beliefs. Any relationship that resembles your mother and father immediately gets Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

your stamp of disapproval. I’m just not up to hearing it.”

Charlotte’s heart hammered in her throat as she walked over to her best friend. “I never meant to pass judgment. I just hurt for you. If anything I said or did came off harshly, I’m sorry. But Beth, you’re a beautiful woman, engaged to a man you love, and you’re still miserable. Why?” Charlotte swallowed hard, not wanting to sound disapproving. “Because you’re here and he’s in the city?”

Beth shook her head. “Not just that.”

“Please explain things to me. I promise to listen, not judge.” Charlotte tugged on Beth’s hand and led her to the chairs in the waiting area. “I’ll get us something to drink and you can talk to me, okay?”

Seconds later, a can of soda popped for each of them, Charlotte joined Beth. She curled her legs beneath her. “So you two met over Christmas?” She brought Beth’s memories back to the beginning.

“Yes. Norman had his annual party and David was in town visiting the Ramseys—Joanne is his mother’s sister. Anyway, we were introduced, started talking . . . I fell for him that night. I just knew he was the one.”

“What’d you talk about? How did you know he was the one?” Charlotte leaned forward, dying to hear that her suspicions about David were wrong, that he and Beth truly had more goals and interests in common than she’d seen so far.

“His job, mostly. He has famous clients, but he also had everyday women who needed a change to make the most of their potential.”

“Sounds interesting,” Charlotte lied. “And when he walked you home, did he kiss you under the stars?”

For Beth, Charlotte wanted the happily-ever-after story she’d yet to come across on her own.

“No. Actually, he was a gentleman. He kissed me on the cheek and . . .”

Charlotte placed her hand over Beth’s. “And what?”

“Gave me his card. He said if I was ever in New York, to look him up. That he was certain he could maximize my beauty.”

Charlotte’s stomach plummeted, her fears coming to life. “Beth—I’m going out on a limb here, so hit me if you have to—why did you feel like you had to maximize what was already beautiful? None of us are perfect, honey.”

“Well, I wasn’t attracting the right man as I was,” she said defensively.

“Because Yorkshire Falls doesn’t have all that many right men.” Except Roman.

Charlotte shook the traitorous thought aside. He was the wrong man, right for only a few weeks, she brutally reminded herself. Then she turned her attention back to Beth. “What happened next?”

“I took a trip to New York. I’d always wanted to see a Broadway show and so I convinced my mom to go for the weekend. We stayed in a hotel, took in a show—my treat—and spent a nice weekend.” She bit down on her lower lip. “I sent Mom home on Sunday and on Monday I looked David up at his office.

Things took off from there. A month later, we were engaged.”

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“After you’d undergone implant surgery?”

Beth’s glance darted away. “He was amazing. So focused on me and my needs.”

On what he wanted to create, Charlotte thought. The man wasn’t interested in the incredible woman Beth already was. She downed a sip of soda. “Did you make a lot of trips there?”

Beth nodded. “And he came up most weekends after that. We had such incredible plans,” she said, her eyes lighting up with the memory, but the hint of sadness and reality remained. “He has this beautiful penthouse. You can see the East River and the shopping is incredible. There are baby stores galore. We agreed we wanted kids right away and he said he wanted me to stay home and raise them.”

“Can I ask you a personal question?” One Charlotte knew would sound judgmental and biased based on her mother’s experience, but in Beth’s case, Charlotte had a hunch she was dead-on accurate.

“Go ahead,” Beth said warily.

“A man with his money and your shared dreams—why didn’t he suggest you move to the city to be with him now? He could certainly afford it, so why be separated?”

“Because he believes in a traditional courtship! What’s so wrong with that? Not every man who doesn’t stay in Yorkshire Falls is a creep like your father.” Beth’s eyes opened wide, then filled with tears. “Oh, God, I’m sorry. That was an awful thing to say.”

“No, it was just honest,” Charlotte said softly. “I’m asking valid questions and you’re defensive. What are you afraid of, Beth?”

“That he’s found someone else that interests him more.” Her friend swiped at her eyes. “He’s been engaged before to a patient,” Beth admitted.

“To a patient?” Charlotte had a feeling Dr. Implant was more of a Svengali—a man who fell in love with his creations, not with the women inside the bodies he fixed, and one who lost interest once he discovered another project.

In Beth, he’d found the ideal subject, because despite her all-natural good looks, she’d never quite felt perfect, something Charlotte knew from their teenage years. Though she never was certain why.

“So he wasn’t interested until you decided to go along with his plastic surgery suggestions, was he?”

Charlotte hoped she’d walked Beth through this painful realization slowly enough so as not to force the conclusion upon her.

“No,” she said softly. “And I’ve sensed the truth for a while. Even when he was here, he was distant. If we discussed anything, it was about changing me.” Beth’s eyes filled again. “How could I have been so stupid? So desperate?”

Charlotte grasped her friend’s hand. “You’re not stupid or desperate. Sometimes we see what we want to see because we want something so much. You wanted a man to love you.” She glanced down at the cola can in her hands. “We all want that.”

“Even you?”

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Charlotte let out a laugh. “Mostly me. I’m just more aware of the pitfalls than most because I’ve seen what my mother went through trying to keep a man who didn’t want to be tied down.” She twirled the can between her palms. “Why would you think I don’t want more out of life? Like someone to love me?”

Feeling the heat of Beth’s stare, Charlotte lifted her gaze.

“Because you’re so independent. You left, went after your dreams, came back, and fulfilled them. I stayed here in a dead-end job until you pulled me into fashion, something I’ve always loved. But it took your guts to get me to make a move in the right direction.”

“You had your reasons for staying, and they were right for you.” Charlotte glanced around her and took in the store, decorated in frilly white eyelet and lace. “I couldn’t have done all this alone. You’re partly responsible for our success. Look at this place and be proud. I am.” She settled her stare back on Beth, waiting until her friend acknowledged the truth with a small nod. “I’m not sure where the insecurity comes from, but now that you’re aware of it, you can work on strengthening your self-confidence.”

“The insecurity was always there. I doubt you know what that’s like—”

Charlotte shook her head. How could Beth view Charlotte’s less-than-perfect life through such blinders?

“You are so wrong. Of course I understand insecurity. I just believe in working on it from the inside out, not the outside in. That explains the philosophy behind this shop!”

“I suppose I should take lessons.” Beth forced a smile. “Is Roman a part of that working on it you spoke of? You won’t let yourself get involved. Is it because you know what’s best for you?”

Charlotte sighed. Now how to explain to Beth her change regarding Roman? “Roman’s different. Our relationship is different.”

“Aha! So there is a relationship.”

“Short-term,” Charlotte qualified. “We both know the rules going in.”

“I always knew there was something between you two. Do you realize he only dated me after you two had gone out that one night and things didn’t work out?”

Charlotte shook her head. Now wasn’t the time to add to her friend’s insecurities. Besides, she’d never thought Roman turned to Beth on the rebound. Charlotte hadn’t let herself believe she’d meant that much to him. But thinking of it now, her stomach began to flutter at the possibility.

But Beth’s ego needed boosting right now, not Charlotte’s. “Give me a break. You were the perky head cheerleader. He couldn’t resist you,” she said, revealing what she’d believed in her heart at the time.

Beth rolled her eyes, amusement and humor back at last. “We had fun, but that’s all it was. Nothing serious or irresistible about it. I was getting over Johnny Davis, and Roman was getting over you.”

“Beth . . .”

“Charlotte . . .” her friend parroted, hands on her hips. “Now it’s my turn to explain some facts of life to you. There are different kind of guys and relationships. There’s the forever guy, and then there’s the rebound guy. Also known as the interim guy. The one you have fun with and move on. That was Roman for me, and me for him.” She paused in thought. “I think it’s time you figure out what Roman is for you. ”

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“How did you manage to turn this conversation back to me?” Charlotte asked.

“Because we’re friends, like you said. You need me as much as I need you.”

“Well, I promise to explain Roman to you one day.” When she could explain him to herself.

Beth glanced down at her watch. “I’ve got to go. Rick will be here any minute.”

“That playboy is the last man you should be getting involved with! Especially while you’re still engaged.”

Beth laughed. “Rick and I are friends. F-R-I-E-N-D-S.”

Charlotte exhaled a sharp breath of relief.

“Rick listens and he makes me laugh. I need both right now. Talking to a guy is actually giving me the confidence to face David—and my fears.” Her smile faded. “Then I need to face life on my own—and figure out who I am and what I need.”

“What if we’ve miscalculated David?” Charlotte felt compelled to ask. “What if he loves you and—”

Beth shook her head. “I’ll never know if he fell for me or the woman he thinks he made me into—did I tell you he wants to fix my nose?”

Charlotte shot out of her seat. “Don’t you dare—”

“I’m too smart for that—thanks to you and Rick.” She hugged Charlotte tight. “You’re a good friend.”

“Ditto.” She squeezed Beth back.

A knock sounded at the door and Charlotte ran to get it.

Samson stood outside, his graying hair damp and a stack of letters in his hands. “Don’t you get your mail?” he muttered. “Leave things outside and they’ll blow away or get wet in the rain. Here.” He shoved his hand out and waved a stack of letters in her face.

“Thanks, Sam.” She took the letters out of his hand and dug into her pocket for the money she remembered shoving in there this morning. “You know I never would have remembered to get those on my own.” She held out her hand, crumpled bills in her fist. “Can you drop a bottle of soda off here if you get a chance, and keep the change, okay?”

He grumbled but took the money, a flash of gratitude in his dark eyes. “Anything else you can’t remember to do yourself?” he asked.

She swallowed a laugh. “Stop by Monday morning. I’ll have a package or two you can drop off at the post office for me.” She’d be finished packaging some panties among other things for her customers by then.

As a special part of her service, Charlotte liked to surprise customers with their special orders when she finished them early, instead of calling and having them come to the shop to pick up their order. “How does that sound?” she asked Sam.

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“Like you’re lazy. I’ll see you then.”

Charlotte grinned and locked the door again behind him. The poor, misunderstood man. She shook her head, then began sorting through the mail when the phone rang. “I’ll get it,” she called out to Beth.

She grabbed the receiver. “Charlotte’s Attic, Charlotte speaking.”

“It’s Roman.”

His deep voice wrapped her in warmth and her insides twisted with longing. “Hi, there.”

“Hi, yourself. How’s it going?” he asked.

“I had an incredibly busy day. You should have seen the lines outside the shop.”

“I did. Couldn’t miss them. But I did miss you.” His voice dropped a husky octave.

Tremors of awareness rippled through her. “I’m easily found.”

“Can you imagine the headlines if I actually walked through the front door of your shop?”

She bit down on her lower lip. If her shop had been the beneficiary of today’s headlines, Roman had probably suffered in reverse. “That bad?”

“Let me put it to you this way. I’ve been accused of cross-dressing by Chase’s secretary, called a potentially convicted felon by my own mother, and more than one woman waved a pair of those panties you’re so fond of my way.”

“Oh, no.” Charlotte lowered herself into a chair, her stomach in knots over the thought of other women propositioning Roman.

“What’s wrong?” Beth came up from behind her.

Charlotte waved a hand to halt further conversation. “It’s Roman,” she mouthed and placed a fingertip over her lips.

Beth grinned and settled in to wait.

“Was it that bad?” Charlotte asked him.

“Bad enough that I was thinking of getting out of town for the rest of the weekend.”

Disappointment filled her and she realized how much she’d been looking forward to seeing him.

Spending time with him. Consummating their relationship. She trembled at the prospect, her body reacting to the mere thought.

“The weekend’s over tomorrow night,” she reminded him.

“But can you imagine how much we can do together in twenty-four hours?”

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“We?” She gripped the phone harder in her hand.

“Well, we don’t live in a thriving metropolis, but I wanted to take you somewhere nice.”

A warmth rushed through her, a heat that had nothing to do with sexual awareness. Oh, that was there too, but the caring in his voice struck her by surprise—in the heart. “What did you have in mind?”

“I was considering the Falls.” The town’s one restaurant with a dress code, Charlotte thought.

“But can you imagine eating while women are slipping panties into my jacket pocket?”

She laughed. “Don’t tell me they tried that too.”

“Not yet.”

“Your ego astounds me.” She caught Beth’s eager glance and swiveled her chair around so she didn’t have to see her. “You’re asking me—”

“To go away with me. One night, one day. You and me. What do you say?” he asked.

“A date?”

“More than that and you know it.”

Charlotte sucked in a deep breath. They’d been leaning toward this for a while now. She’d already rationalized why she’d allow herself to get involved in an affair. Because being with Roman seemed the only way to get over him. If she were lucky, she’d discover he had too many bad habits to count. If not, at least she’d store memories for the future. She’d never again look back and regret the road not taken.

“He’s asking you out. What are you waiting for? Say yes,” Beth said from behind her.

Charlotte glanced over her shoulder. “Shut up.”

“Not the answer I expected.”

“Sorry. I wasn’t talking to you.” She waved Beth away with one hand. “Yes. I say yes,” she said before she could change her mind.

Beth let out a whoop of glee,

“I’ll make sure it’s a time you never forget,” he said in that sexy, compelling voice.

And Charlotte believed him. She knew for certain that when this weekend was over, she’d never again wonder what she’d missed since her teenage rejection of him.

She would, however, keep in mind this was a short-term affair. And Roman was her interim guy.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Roman picked Charlotte up on time. He drove her to the outskirts of town before pulling over to the Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

side of the road and reaching into the glove compartment for a silk scarf. He dangled it in front of her.

“What’s that for?” Charlotte eyed the scarf, intrigued.

“I don’t want you to see my surprise before I’m ready.”

Anticipation kicked in to high gear. “I love surprises.”

Roman’s deep laugh wrapped around her in the confines of his small rental car. “Is that a note of appreciation I hear in your voice?”

He leaned over and tied the sheath of silk around her head. A shiver of awareness rippled along her nerve endings.

She lifted her hands to feel the blindfold covering her eyes and her stomach jolted with awareness. As quickly as she’d lost her sight, her other senses had heightened, taking over. The rasp of Roman’s deep breathing and his heady, masculine cologne touched off tremors inside her. “So where are we going?”

“You should have tried a more subtle approach. If I wanted you to know, then you wouldn’t need the blindfold, now, would you?” He started the car once more and she jolted backward as they pulled onto the highway.

She wasn’t sure how much time passed as they made companionable small talk. They got along well, which wasn’t surprising. Neither were the things they had in common—love of history and a keen interest in foreign locales, many of which he described to her in detail as only a firsthand observer could. She envied his travels much more than she’d admit aloud.

“When I was in your apartment, I couldn’t help but notice the books on the table.” Not a surprising turn in conversation after the stories and descriptions he’d shared.

“Many people have those books,” she said, not ready to give too much insight into her soul.

“That’s what I thought. Then I looked closer. Yours were worn and well read.”

Damn the man. He was still observant and dissected the littlest thing until he came up with the correct conclusion. “So call me shallow. I like picture books.”

“I’d call you a lot of things.” His hand came to rest on her knee, his hot palm searing her flesh through the light cotton spandex pants she wore. “Shallow isn’t one of them. I think you harbor a secret desire to travel.”

“Such a big conclusion from a few books.”

He shook his head. “I’d already assumed as much, but your twenty questions about my travels and the longing in your voice pretty much told me you’d like to visit those places yourself one day.”

She contemplated lying, then decided against it. She’d promised herself to release all inhibitions and enjoy to the fullest, so she’d have no regrets. That meant no lies or omissions. “I suppose a part of me wants to travel,” she admitted.

“The adventurous part you hide?” Humor tinged his voice.

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“The shallow part,” she said, no touch of humor in return. Charlotte glanced away from Roman, where she knew the car window would be, but the same blackness awaited her any direction she looked.

“Shallow. There’s that word again.”

She felt the slowing of the engine, the jarring feel of the car being put into park, and the slide of denim against vinyl as Roman turned in his seat.

“I travel. Is that what you think of me?” he asked at last.

In her mind, she could see him, one arm propped over the headrest, as he looked at her. Only she couldn’t. See him, that is. She could only guess what he was doing, what his expression revealed. His voice held the slightest hint of hurt at the possibility that she’d found him lacking. He sounded as if he cared what she thought of him and the notion set her heart beating out a rapid pulse.

Roman was intelligent and caring. He understood both of those traits enough to report the news in a way that drew a reader in. She’d read his work. Shallow wasn’t what she thought of Roman, far from it.

“It’s what I fear I am.” No regrets, she reminded herself, and under the cover and protection of darkness, she admitted her greatest fear. Of all people, she wanted him to know.

“Curiosity about the unknown makes you intelligent, not shallow.”

She often wondered. “What if the need to see those places or do those other things takes you far from home and keeps you there?” she asked. “Far from the people who love you.”

Roman listened to her words and looked for deeper meaning. She could be talking about him, but he had a hunch she was admitting to more personal fears. “You’re talking about your father, aren’t you?”

“That’s a rhetorical question.” She still faced the window, away from him.

He reached over and touched her chin, turning her toward him. “It’s not his desire to live in Los Angeles or even to act that’s caused the problem. It was his unwillingness to live up to his responsibilities and the fact that he seems emotionally disconnected from his family. Those are choices he made. Yours would be different because you’re different.”

She shrugged. “My father, my genes. You never know.”

“You also have your mother’s genes, and she’s a homebody.” More of a recluse, though he didn’t say it.

“You’re most likely a combination of both.” The best of both, he thought. “So what’s the other reason you’re so afraid of those hidden desires?”

She didn’t answer.

He had a hunch genetics wasn’t what was really bothering Charlotte. It was a convenient cover. He knew her better than to think she’d turn selfish, or into any kind of replica of her father. She had to know better too. Though to fear doing so was a normal, fleeting notion for anyone who resented a parent, Roman thought. Charlotte was intelligent enough to look inside herself and see the truth. “You’re no more shallow than those books on your table.”

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“You’re biased.” Her lips turned upward in a half smile.

“And that’s not an answer. Come on, Charlotte. You lived in New York, you cherish the books about foreign places. You crave travel, but you refuse to acknowledge it might make you happy. Why?”

“What if the reality is a disappointment?”

And she’d had too many of those in her life, he thought. But he was about to change that. “If you could be anywhere right now, where would it be?”

“Other than here with you?”

He grinned. “Good answer.” On impulse, he leaned over and grazed his mouth against her warm lips. An unmistakable tremor shook her and his body tensed in response. “I guess it’s time I show you where here is. I’m coming around to get you.” He climbed out of the front seat, walked to her side, and helped her out of the car.

A light drizzle fell around them, mist and clouds heavy in the darkness, the weather adding to the almost moody atmosphere of this spot he’d chosen. Only when he had her facing their ultimate destination did he pull the blindfold off. “Take a look.”

As she refocused on her surroundings, Roman watched her. Her jet-black hair, mussed from the scarf and the weather, swirled over her shoulders and around her neck. She brushed the long strands back with one hand, leaving her neck bare and exposed. The urge to nibble the white skin was strong and overwhelming, but he managed to watch and wait instead.

She blinked and squinted, crinkling her nose as she took in her new location. “It looks like a farmhouse.”

“Actually, it’s a renovated dairy barn. It’s pretty secluded, with an incredible view of the Adirondack Mountains. We missed the sunset, but there’s no reason we can’t catch the sunrise.”

She took a step forward, obviously eager to see more.

“Hang on.” He grabbed their bags from the trunk. She’d packed light, something that not only surprised him, but in a ridiculous way made him feel like he could relate to her better. Or she could relate to him and his lifestyle in a way he wouldn’t have expected.

Unsure what to make of those feelings, he caught up with her instead. “It’s not a Scottish castle, but it’ll make you feel like you’ve left the real world behind. And I promise you won’t be disappointed.”

She turned to face him. “You’re perceptive and intuitive. As a reporter I’m sure it comes naturally. What I can’t figure out is whether this is for your benefit or mine.”

He knew better than to be insulted. Because she was ruminating on her father, she felt compelled to look for Roman’s ulterior motives. He understood and didn’t mind answering. “Getting out of town is for our benefit, taking you with me is for mine, and choosing this particular place was all for you, sweetheart.”

“You think you’ve got me figured out.” She bit down on her lower lip.

“I don’t?” He swept an arm out, gesturing to the mountain getaway. “This sudden escape doesn’t please you? Doesn’t this inn remind you of places you’d like to visit but haven’t had the chance?”

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“You know it does. That’s obvious from you studying my apartment, or dissecting me with those reporter’s instincts. But that doesn’t mean you know everything. There’s plenty that’s still hidden.”

“And I can’t wait to uncover the rest of your secrets.”

A slow smile tilted her lips until it turned into a wicked grin. “So what are you waiting for?” She tossed the parting shot. Then she pivoted and started for the inn, the effect of her regal departure diminished by her teetering, high-heeled walk on the unpaved parking lot.

Charlotte’s time with Roman was, by agreement and necessity, a short-term affair. Affair being the operative word. As much as she liked confiding in him and listening to his comforting voice and understanding words, she didn’t want to waste what little time they had—time of undetermined duration—on talk.

Not when they had many more exciting, erotic things they could do. Things to give her memories to cherish and a way to prove she was her own person—stronger than her mother. She could take what she desired and walk away, instead of waiting for him to come back and make her life whole. She’d be whole on her own. No matter how much she’d miss him.

By the time she made it inside the converted farmhouse, unpretentiously named The Inn, excitement had become her sole companion.

They were greeted upon entering by an older couple. “Welcome, Mr. Chandler.”

“Roman, please.”

The woman with streaked gray hair and bright eyes nodded. “Roman it is. Do you know you look just like your father?”

He grinned. “So I’ve been told.”

“She knows your parents?” Charlotte asked, surprised.

“Mom and Dad came here on their honeymoon.”

He spoke in a matter-of-fact tone, but Charlotte didn’t find the information so cut-and-dried. He’d brought her to the place his parents had shared their post-wedding night. Wow.

“They most certainly did. I’m Marian Innsbrook and this is my husband, Harry.”

Charlotte grinned. “So that explains the name of this place.”

“Easy to remember in case folks want to come back,” Harry said.

Charlotte nodded.

Roman stepped beside her and placed his hand on her lower back. He branded her with his touch and the excitement she’d felt upon entering The Inn turned to pure unadulterated arousal. Warmth flooded Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

her, a heaviness in her breasts and a distinctive throbbing between her legs. All inappropriate for the time and place—but soon they’d be alone, and she intended to shed not just her clothing but her inhibitions.

As if oblivious to the havoc he wreaked on her body, Roman smiled at the Innsbrooks. “This is Charlotte Bronson.”

She managed an easy smile while she and Roman took turns shaking hands with the older couple. She even forced herself to look around and appreciate the Old World charm and atmosphere The Inn offered. Wood-beamed ceilings and paneled walls. Comfort and homey were the words that came to mind.

Empty was another word that ran through her head. There was no one else around. “Do you run this place by yourselves?”

Marian shook her head. “But it’s quiet this time of year. Though we’re an hour from Saratoga, we still experience the lull between winter getaways and racing season. I’m just glad we were able to fit you in on short notice.”

“And we appreciate it,” Roman said.

“Our pleasure. Now let’s get you settled.”

A short flight of stairs and a narrow hallway later, Marian Innsbrook led them into a dimly lit room. “In here’s the sitting area, up those stairs in the loft is the bedroom. There’s cable television, the temperature controls are over here.” She walked to the far wall and explained the in-room system. “Breakfast is served at eight and you can have a wake-up call anytime you’d like.” She started to step out of the room.

“Thank you, Mrs. Innsbrook,” Charlotte called after her.

“It’s Marian, and you’re welcome.”

Roman walked her out and seconds later the door shut with a resounding click. They were alone.

He turned, his back propped against the closed door. “I thought she’d never leave.”

“Or stop talking.” Charlotte grinned. “I really like them, though.”

“They kept in touch with my mother all these years. They even came to Dad’s funeral.”

“That’s so sweet.”

“They’re good people.” He shrugged. “And Mom and Dad came back every year for their anniversary.”

His gaze met hers, dark and compelling, staring until she was shaken. “I’m not sure what to say next,”

she admitted.

He started walking toward her. “I can think of a lot better things to do than talk.” He paused in front of her.

His musky scent filled her with a longing so strong her knees nearly buckled, and she swallowed hard.

“Then why don’t you show me?”

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A rumble rose from his throat that resembled a low growl, a deep admission of desire. The next thing she knew, he’d swept her into his arms, up the stairs, and laid her down on the king-sized loft bed. Then his lips came down hard on hers.

It was what she hadn’t known she’d been waiting for—this hard, demanding kiss that never ended and caused wave after wave of carnal need to rush her body at lightning speed. His lips were unforgiving, crushing hers, and the hot, moist assault on her senses brought everything inside her to life.

She cupped his face in her hands and threaded her fingers through his hair, reveling in the silky softness, such a contradiction to the hard male body poised above her. He traveled a path with his mouth, across her cheek, and down her neck, pausing to nibble at her tender flesh.

“When I picked you up and saw you in this low-cut sweater, all I could think about was tasting you,” his voice rasped, a husky sound in her ear.

His need, his desire made her feel wanton and brave. She arched her back, stretching her body out against the mattress and pushing her aching breasts and tight nipples against his chest, giving him complete access to her neck. “So? Do I taste as good as you thought?”

He let out another of those groans that turned her on and nuzzled his lips harder into her skin.

The pulling sensation of his teeth against her flesh found an answering response between her legs, the place that was and had always been empty—and would be until Roman filled her.

He settled himself more completely against her, his groin nestled hot and heavy between her thighs.

Denim was a restricting barrier, but she felt his weight and breadth anyway, pushing against her, seeking entry. Her body bucked beneath him, wanting more than a teasing thrust of clothed bodies. Though she’d never admit it aloud, her body reminded her of what she’d tried to forget—she’d been waiting for this man all of her life. For now he was hers.

And she was his. His large hands seemed to take possession, as he traced her shape with his palms, pausing only to cup her breasts in his hands and hold tight, feeling their weight and caressing her nipples with his thumbs. She let out a moan that surprised her.

He sat up, resting his weight back on his legs. “You have no idea what you do to me.”

She let out a shaky laugh. “Trust me, I have some clue.”

When he reached toward the elastic waist of her pants, she sucked in a deep breath and waited for him to tug them down. Off her body.

Instead he paused. “About protection . . .”

In most cases, the subject would be a mood killer. With Roman, it was just a delay she didn’t want.

“I’m on the pill,” she admitted.

Surprise flickered in his eyes, replaced quickly with the unmistakable flare of desire. She wondered if his thoughts mirrored hers—all she could imagine was him inside her, flesh against flesh, no barriers, nothing between them. “But . . .” She was too smart for reality not to assert itself.

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A taut muscle ticked in his jaw, evidence of what this restraint was costing him. “What?” he asked in a softer voice than she’d believed he could manage right now.

“It’s been a long time for me and the few times I . . . we . . . used protection.” She darted her gaze to the cream-colored wall to her left, shocked by the utter intimacy of this conversation. Then again, there wasn’t anything more intimate than the step they were about to take.

He sucked in a breath and she wondered if he was shocked by her words. Wondered if she’d scared him away. Men didn’t like to think a woman was investing too much into any one night. But she and Roman had had that conversation already and both knew the score.

“I’m not indiscriminate.”

At the sound of his voice, she refocused on him before she could lament the end of what hadn’t yet begun.

“I’m careful,” he continued. “And before each trip abroad I have every blood test imaginable.” A heavy silence descended between them. “And I never cared so much before what a woman was thinking, so don’t leave me in suspense.”

A heaviness formed in her chest and a lump rose to her throat as she grabbed his wrists in her hands.

But she refused to succumb to emotion, not when desire was so strong and encompassing. “Stop talking and make love to me, Roman. Or I might have to—”

He cut her off by pulling down on her pants in one swift move, and cooler air hit her thighs.

“I like a man that listens.” In fact, she liked him a whole lot. More than was prudent, she thought as she kicked the pants off her ankles.

He stood to undress and she shed her sweater next. When he returned to the bed, he was nude and he was magnificent. His tanned skin complemented his dark hair and his blue eyes had darkened with desire—for her.

“I like a woman who isn’t afraid to tell me what she wants.” He placed his hands on her thighs and spread her legs wide. “A woman who isn’t afraid of her sensuality.” Sparks of light glittered in his gaze as he took in the light blue bra and panty set. “Know what my favorite color is?” he asked.

She opened her mouth to answer, but with his burning touch searing her skin and liquid desire pulsing through her veins, no words would come.

“As of right now, it’s blue.” And with that, he dipped his head to taste her.

Charlotte thought she’d die of pleasure. She wondered if such a thing were possible. And then she couldn’t think at all. His tongue worked magic, managing to ease inside the open holes of the handmade panties. With broad strokes, he laved, then alternated with insistent suckling that sent white-hot darts of fire throughout her body as every nerve she possessed begged for release.

He brought her to the edge of climaxing more than once, only to slow the loving strokes of his tongue and bring her back down. She writhed and begged until he used his tongue and teeth to graze her sensitive folds of flesh, taking her upward once more. But she refused to have her first orgasm without him being inside her. She needed to feel that emotional connection with him too badly, and when he Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

reached up and held her hand in his, she knew he understood.

Without warning, he slid up beside her, his warm body cradling hers in heat. He made fast work of her bra and panties, before cuddling alongside her again.

“You taste good.” He brushed her hair off her face and before she could respond, he closed his mouth over hers. At the same time, he pressed his hand over her aching, empty feminine mound. Waves of need began to build inside her again. She jerked her hips upward and whimpered, a sound he caught in his throat.

He broke the kiss but his lips lingered over hers. “What is it, sweetheart? Does this help?” he asked, easing his finger deep inside her.

Her body trembled in reaction. “I know what would help more.”

So did Roman. This restraint wasn’t easy. He was enjoying every minute, but if he didn’t come inside her, he was going to damn well explode. “Tell me what you want.” He needed to hear it from those well-kissed lips.

“Why don’t I show you instead?” Her cheeks were flushed pink with desire, her eyes glazed with need as she reached out and held his hard length in her hand.

He didn’t need to answer, just follow her lead—and he did, easing himself over her as she spread her legs and placed the head of his penis into the damp, moist vee of her thighs. At that moment, foreplay was over.

He thrust inside her, hard and fast. She’d said it had been a while and when her smooth muscles contracted around him, he realized how long she’d actually meant. She was tight and wet, capturing him in silken heat. He broke into a sweat, not just because he was aroused and so damn close to coming he thought he would burst, because he felt like he was exactly where he belonged.

He felt like he’d come home.

Roman opened his eyes and met her startled gaze. It wasn’t pain or discomfort he saw there, but awareness. She obviously felt it too.

He began a rapid thrusting meant to distract him, to separate himself from the reality of his feelings. Sex had always been a distant form of quick and easy release in the past. Not now.

Not with Charlotte. Not when her rhythm complemented his rhythm, her breaths matched his, and her body molded perfectly around him. And when he climaxed, taking her with him, Roman somehow knew—things would never be the same again.

Roman walked out of the bathroom and toward Charlotte, completely nude and not the least bit embarrassed. She supposed there wasn’t much left to hide between them and she didn’t mind looking at him. Not a bit.

She wasn’t as ready to be that free herself. She crossed her legs and pulled the sheets up around her.

“I’m starving.”

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Roman’s eyes glittered with deliberate mischief. “I can satisfy that hunger of yours.”

She grinned. “You already did. Twice. Now it’s my stomach that needs filling.” She patted the sheet above her belly. They’d worked up a healthy appetite and she wasn’t ashamed to admit it.

She was ashamed to look too deeply into her heart, because she wasn’t the same woman who’d walked into this inn. She found it too easy to be with this charming man who promised honesty as easily as he guaranteed he’d be walking out the door.

He reached over and grabbed the green leather-bound folder from the nightstand and looked through the selection of late-night snacks.

“What are my choices?” she asked.

“Would you believe not much? There’s a cookie platter with assorted teas, or a vegetable platter with honey mustard or blue cheese dip, and a choice of colas. There’s also fresh seasonal fruit. Can’t imagine what that would be at this time of year, but one thing’s clear. We’re eating cold and nothing homemade.”

He laughed. “So am I ordering you the vegetables?”

She raised an eyebrow, surprised he’d chosen wrong. “Guess you don’t know me as well as you think you do.”

“Now, there’s a challenge. So you want the fruit?”

She crinkled her nose. “Roman Chandler, what kind of women do you hang out with?” She shook her head. “Forget I even asked.”

He settled himself next to her. “Sorry, can’t do that.” He lifted her hand and began a slow, steady massaging of her palm. His touch was as seductive as his eyes were mesmerizing and blue. “The Chandler reputation’s way overrated.”

“Oh, really? You brothers don’t collect women?”

“I’m not saying they don’t line up for me.” His impish grin told her he was joking. “But I definitely turn them away. I’m getting too old for the revolving door.”

But despite the teasing upturn of his lips, she tossed a pillow at him anyway. “Tell me something. I don’t really remember your father. Did he have that same ‘women love him’ reputation? Is that what you three are living up to?”

He shook his head. “The only woman my father was interested in was my mother and vice versa.”

“If only my dad reciprocated my mother’s feelings, like yours did.”

He tipped his head back in thought. “You know, our mothers aren’t really that different.”

Charlotte couldn’t help it. She laughed. “You’ve got to be kidding.”

“Nope. Step out of your single-minded resentment of your father and take a look at something. He took off and your mother’s been waiting around ever since, yes?”

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“Yes,” she said, completely unsure of where he was headed.

“And my father died and my mother never got involved with another man again. Until this week, but that’s another story.” That darn perceptive gaze met hers. “Nothing’s really different,” he said. “They both put their lives on hold.”

“I guess you’ve got a point.” She blinked, surprised to realize they had something that fundamental in common.

But nothing had changed for them—even if she had become more emotionally attached. Dammit. Their long-range goals were still disparate and far apart, something she’d best keep in mind during their time together, she warned herself.

Roman’s own words reverberated in his head. His mother had put her life on hold for what seemed like forever. Because she’d been so much a part of his father’s life, she’d been lost without him. Until he’d spoken his conclusion aloud, he’d never realized that his mother hadn’t moved forward.

“But at least Raina lived some version of happily ever after.” Charlotte’s voice interrupted his thoughts.

Her words gave him pause. Was that fairy-tale ending women wanted worth anything if the rest of their lives were spent in unhappy limbo? In his mother’s case, short-term happiness at the expense of long-term fulfillment? In Charlotte’s mother’s situation, chasing a fantasy that would never come true? He shook his head, neither choice appealing to him.

He’d watched his mother after his father died, the mourning, the withdrawal, and then the small steps back into the real world. But she’d never fully been what she was with his father, and she hadn’t tried to redefine herself either.

Her choice, he realized. Just as it had been his choice to take off and distance himself from not only his hometown, but his family—and the pain he saw in his mother’s eyes each time he was home. Especially in the beginning.

At that moment, Roman realized he’d been running from emotional attachment—the same way Charlotte was running from him. She feared the same pain she’d grown up seeing in her mother, day in and day out.

But making love to her had shown him that when it came to some things in life, there was no alternative.

They were meant to be. Not just because he desired her but because he wanted to give her things she’d missed in life, the family and the love. How he’d accomplish that and still maintain the freedom he needed for his job and his life, he didn’t know.

He had a long road ahead of him—to prove to himself and to her that his lifestyle could satisfy them both. That their lives didn’t have to be a repeat of their parents’ mistakes but one of their own making.

And that meant commitment, he realized now. Not just the commitment he promised his family he’d make, but one he wanted to make with this woman.

He looked into her soft eyes and something inside him melted. “Is happily ever after what you want?” he asked.

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“Is it what you don’t want?” she shot back.

“Touché.” He stroked a finger down her cheek.

Poor Charlotte. She had no idea he’d figured out both himself and her. He knew what he wanted—her.

He was about to storm her defenses and she hadn’t a clue. “I notice you changed the subject earlier. I wanted to talk about ‘my’ women.”

Her face flushed a charming shade of pink. “I don’t.”

“So once again, you don’t have to talk. But you are going to listen.” In one smooth move, he had her flat on her back, straddling her hips.

She scowled up at him. “You play dirty and you forgot to order my food,” she said.

“You finish this conversation and I’ll get you all the cookies you can eat and more. ” He moved his hips against hers, deliberately provocative and hot.

“That’s bribery.” But her eyes glazed over, letting him know she was enticed by his erotic teasing. Her stomach chose that second to grumble loudly, killing the mood. She grinned sheepishly. “I suppose I have no choice but to listen if I want to eat.”

“I suppose you’re right.” But he wasn’t above a little erotic coercion to get his way. He settled his weight so as not to crush her, but so he could feel her supple curves and smooth flesh. Damn, but she felt good. “Just hear me out,” he said, refusing to be distracted. Not when so much was on the line. “Number one, my life’s been so busy women rarely factored into the equation—believe it or not. And I promised you I’d never lie. Number two, I may not have gotten involved before, but I sure as hell am now.”

He shocked himself and obviously shocked her by the admission, because silence descended around them.

Something akin to fear shimmered in her eyes. “You said you’d never lie.”

“This time I think I should be insulted.”

She shook her head. “I’m not calling you a liar.”

“Then what?”

“Don’t make this”—she gestured between their naked bodies—“out to be more than it really is.”

“Oh, and what exactly is this? ” he asked, because he needed to hear exactly what he was up against when it came to turning her thinking around.

“Sex,” she said, deliberately trivializing what they had shared.

As much as Roman recognized the protective mechanism, he couldn’t say she hadn’t hurt him. He forced an easy laugh. “Good thing you never made that promise not to lie, sweetheart.”

With those words, he let her know he didn’t believe one word she’d uttered, and this time she sucked in a deep breath, realizing she’d been caught.

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He inhaled deeply. The scent of sex did hover in the air, arousing him and making him want her despite her stubborn minimizing of what they’d shared. He’d already made his point. Together they’d experienced something much deeper than just sex.

He nudged her legs apart with his knees.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“You said you’re hungry, yes?” He didn’t wait for a reply. “You also said what’s between us is just sex.” He nudged the head of his enlarged penis between her legs and entered her slowly, methodically, with a slick, thick stroke she couldn’t help but feel. He sure as hell did.

Her lips parted and her eyes dilated as she took him inside.

What was he doing? she’d asked. “I’m going to make you eat your words.” He was going to make her experience every taste, touch, and sensation so that he’d always be a part of her. He was going to prove to her that everything between them was deep and meaningful.

His powerful strokes inside her body elicited a response he couldn’t mistake. One she couldn’t either, if the arousing sounds coming from her were anything to go by.

Every moan that passed her lips settled inside him and brought a stinging sensation to his eyes, a thick lump in his throat.

And later, as she lay asleep in his arms, he knew she’d become a part of him too. Or maybe, he thought, she always had been.

The next day, the sun had long ago dipped below the horizon, an orange ball of fire in the reddened sky, when Roman drove them back into town. Charlotte’s stomach plummeted. She wasn’t ready to end their time together so soon.

After that one serious conversation that got them nowhere, things had lightened up. They’d made love, hand-fed each other homemade cookies, slept in each other’s arms, and woke in time for the sunrise.

They’d had a picnic lunch outside on the beautiful premises, then shared dinner with the Innsbrooks before returning to the room to make love one more time before they left The Inn for good.

Perhaps Roman’s melancholy matched hers, because they rode home in silence. By the time he walked her to her apartment, her stomach was in twisted knots.

She wasn’t ready to say good-bye. “I wonder if there were any break-ins last night,” she said, looking to prolong his time with her.

“Not that I wish it on anyone, but it would definitely get me off the hook with the women in this town.”

His blue eyes glittered in amusement. “I have an alibi.”

She smiled. “Yeah. I know what you mean. If no one knows you left town, the thief can’t use you as his shield—if that was his intent after the article.” She shrugged.

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“Only Mom and my brothers know I was out of town, so we’ll see what happens.”

Her mother knew too, but since she rarely left the house to socialize, there was no chance of her disclosing the news. “Breaking into houses and stealing panties,” Charlotte said with a shake of her head.

A blush stained his cheeks and she raised a hand to touch him one more time. As her fingertips lightly stroked his roughened cheek, he met and held her gaze. Knowledge glittered in those intelligent blue eyes and she pulled back, embarrassed by her simple display of affection that gave away too much of her feelings.

“This is more serious than a juvenile prank,” she said, keeping things between them light. “No one in their right mind would blame you. The whole idea of panty theft is ridiculous.”

He shrugged, drawing her gaze to his black T-shirt and the tight muscles beneath. “You never know what’s going to turn a man on. A strange man, anyway.”

She nodded, then swallowed hard. Silence surrounded them. No noises sounded from the other apartments or the street below. Nothing remained but to say so long. “So . . .”

“So.”

“Will I see you again?” She mentally kicked herself as soon as the words escaped. That should have been his line.

“Why? Looking for more sex?” he asked, a wry smile on his lips.

She scowled, his words hitting like a punch in the stomach. She’d regretted the defensive words as soon as they’d escaped her lips. Now she knew how she’d made him feel. “I suppose I deserved that.”

She’d obviously hurt him when she’d classified their relationship that way. She hadn’t meant to, had merely been looking to protect herself. As a means of defense, words were too little, too late, anyway.

He reached out and cupped her chin in his hand. “I just don’t want you to shut me out with remarks like that. Open your mind and see where things lead.”

Charlotte already knew the outcome. She’d end up in Yorkshire Falls while he traveled abroad. End of discussion, end of relationship.

But he didn’t seem in any rush to reach that inevitable conclusion, didn’t seem to be leaving town anytime soon. So why borrow trouble by arguing with him? She summoned a smile. “I suppose I can manage that.”

“She says too lightly.”

“Come on, let’s not ruin a spectacular weekend by arguing, okay?”

He stepped closer. “I was spectacular, huh?”

His masculine scent wrapped around her, became a part of her, and her heartbeat kicked into high gear.

“I meant the weekend was spectacular.”

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His arm came to rest above her head and his lips came within kissing distance. “And I?”

“You were even better,” she murmured as his mouth touched hers. The kiss was too light, too fast, and over too soon. He left her wanting more, which, she supposed, was the point he’d intended to make.

“You will see me again.” He grabbed her key from her hand, opened the door, and let her inside.

By the time she turned back, he was gone.

CHAPTER NINE

Roman walked into an unlocked house and tossed his keys onto the counter. The darkened rooms and absolute silence told him his mother wasn’t home. He muttered a curse. You’d think the woman had more sense than to be careless, with a thief on the loose. Then again, she probably thought the panty thief business was a joke—along with half the women in this town.

“Ridiculous.” Tomorrow morning he’d touch base with Rick and find out what, if any, break-ins had occurred last night.

But for now, he needed sleep. God knew he’d gotten none last night, and the memory of why was enough to set him off once again. He made his way into his old childhood room, dumped his bag onto the floor, and headed for the bathroom.

He set the shower water on cold, but it didn’t help ease the ache Charlotte inspired. He’d showered with her earlier today and he vividly remembered coming inside her, water pelting them from all sides.

The spray hit his skin now, but not even this ice-cold dousing could cool him off.

He was tired and aroused all at the same time and when he walked into his room, he was so exhausted he didn’t even turn on the lights. Only one thought cruised through his mind. After his time with Charlotte, his life and future had changed, and not just because of a family promise.

He had decisions to make, but first he needed sleep. He crawled into bed. His head hit the cool sheets, his back eased into the mattress, and his body came into contact with warm, soft flesh.

“Holy shit.” Roman jerked back and bolted upright in the bed. “Who the hell’s there?”

He jumped out of bed and started for the door, intending to hit the switch on the wall so he could shed light on the intruder.

“That’s not the reaction I expected, but I suppose a girl has to start somewhere. Now get back into bed and I’ll show you what I brought for you.” The voice sounded more feline than female.

Considering Roman definitely felt like trapped prey, the analogy made perfect sense. The sound of a hand patting the mattress echoed around him.

He flicked on the light and was greeted by the grotesque sight of Alice Magregor, her frizzy hair overwaxed and oversprayed, and her body stuffed into Charlotte’s infamous panties. It was a body Roman wouldn’t touch in drunken stupor, and he was stone cold sober now. More’s the pity.

“Oh, you don’t sleep naked.”

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She pouted in a way that turned his stomach.

“Never mind. I’ll take care of that. Now turn out the light and get back into bed.” She arched and preened, stretching her hand across his pillow.

Damn, he’d have to change the sheets before getting some sleep. He clenched his jaw, her invasion of his privacy unwanted and unwelcome. “I’m going to turn around and let you get decent. Then I’m going to pretend this never happened and you’re going to do the same.”

She didn’t flinch, and before he could turn, she said, “Don’t tell me you aren’t interested. I flashed you a sign the other day and you smiled at me.”

“You’ve got your facts out of order. I smiled before you flashed your panties.”

“You journalists and your facts. It all means the same thing. You smiled. You showed interest. Now come to bed.”

Whether she was being deliberately dense or pitifully stupid, he couldn’t say. “We live in a small town, Alice. I was being neighborly. Now get dressed.” He crossed his arms and turned away. He leaned against the doorframe, unable to believe Alice Magregor was naked in his bed.

Being cruel wasn’t his style, but damned if he was going to humor her or give her any indication he wanted something like this to happen again. If the house had been locked, it couldn’t have happened in the first place. His mother was in for one hell of a lecture on safety. She couldn’t be so darn trusting any longer. Thanks to her false sense of security, she’d left the house open, her panties in danger of being stolen, and his body in danger of being violated, if Alice had her way.

He couldn’t imagine how she’d known his mother wasn’t home so she could come in and make herself comfortable. Not that he cared, as long as she got the hell out now. He glanced over his shoulder, but she hadn’t made a move.

“I love a man who plays hard to get.”

The distinct sound of laughter traveled up from the front hall. His mother’s laughter and a man’s rumbling chuckle. At the sound of other people in the house, Alice’s eyes had opened wide.

Just what he needed, Roman thought, an audience. He motioned for Alice to move, but she sat up in shock.

“. . . see a light on upstairs. Roman, is that you?” Raina’s voice grew louder and accomplished what Roman couldn’t.

Alice flew out of bed. “Oh, my God.” She dove for her clothes. Scrambling to pull on her pants, she danced around on one foot, attempting to get one leg inside jeans that had been turned inside out.

“Roman? If it’s you, answer me.”

“Don’t you dare,” Alice hissed.

“I thought they taught you the basics back in kindergarten,” Roman commented. “If you sat down and Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

put only one leg at a time in there, it might make things easier.”

Raina’s footsteps sounded louder than his pounding heart and, now that he stopped to think about it, sweeter than anything he’d heard in a long while. There was nothing like being caught to kill off interest, and if Alice’s beet-red face was any indication, she wouldn’t be returning here or facing him anywhere, anytime soon.

He waited until Alice had calmed down enough to get her leg into half of her jeans before calling down to his mother. “I hear you, Mom. I got back a little while ago.”

A male voice spoke with Raina—Eric, probably—which explained why she hadn’t made her way up the stairs. She only walked the steps once in the morning and again at night. Roman had been considering speaking to Chase about turning one of the rooms downstairs into a bedroom to accommodate Raina’s health.

“I want to hear all about your weekend,” Raina called and he heard her footsteps on the stairs at a quick pace that surprised him.

“Ooh, no!” This time Alice shrieked in panic.

Roman, still standing in his doorway, turned back to his bedroom in time to see her kick the pants away.

She’d instead yanked up the comforter, wrapping the beige quilting around herself like a shroud.

Strange and stranger, Roman thought and shook his head. “By the way,” he said to Alice. “Dr. Fallon’s here too. But don’t worry. Thanks to years of doctor-patient confidentiality, I’m sure he knows how to be discreet.”

Besides, Roman thought, things could be worse. It could be Chase, Mr. I-Only-Report-the-Facts, pounding up the stairs behind his mother.

Raina reached the top step and walked up to him. Roman blocked her view of his room as best he could. “Hi, Mom. Feeling okay?” He glanced over her shoulder to where Eric stood behind her.

“The stairs winded me. Let’s sit on your bed and talk.” She started to push past him and he gently held on to her arm. “You can’t go in there.”

“Who’s there? Is it Charlotte?” she asked, sounding excited at the prospect.

“No, it’s not Charlotte, now please—this is a big enough mess without you getting involved or upset.”

Raina shook her head and tried to see over his shoulder.

Behind her, Dr. Fallon rolled his eyes, as if to say, Once she’s on a roll, I can’t stop her, something Roman understood too well.

“Okay, see for yourself,” Roman whispered, putting a hand to his lips, silently asking his mother to keep quiet. It wasn’t his job to protect Alice from her stupidity, but he’d rather Raina take a quick peek and disappear than humiliate the woman by bulldozing in.

He stepped into the room, his mother behind him, in time to see Alice trying to open the window with shaking hands. But as Roman immediately realized, the latch was secure and Alice was in no jeopardy of height or success.

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“I think we should let Eric take care of her, Roman. She’s obviously disturbed and upset,” Raina whispered, then grabbed his hand and pulled him out of the room.

Realizing he faced his mother in his underwear, Roman snagged his jeans, which he’d left on the floor.

He’d survive the embarrassment better than Alice. “You’re right. Let’s go downstairs, okay?” Roman led Raina out.

He quickly detoured into the bathroom to pull on his pants, then he returned to the kitchen in time to see his mother take a spoonful of antacid liquid.

“Would you make me some tea?” Raina asked. “All this excitement’s gotten to me.”

He glanced at her, concerned. “Are you sure it’s just heartburn? Nothing heart-related? I can get Eric—”

“No. I’m fine. Just some normal indigestion.” She patted her chest. “That girl needs Eric more than I do right now.”

“Just don’t neglect your health if something’s really wrong, okay?” He checked the teakettle for water, then turned on the burner beneath it.

“I think Alice could use a sedative and a good talking-to. What was she thinking?” Raina shook her head and settled herself into a chair.

“That reminds me. What were you thinking, leaving the house wide open?”

“May I remind you, in the lifetime I’ve been living in Yorkshire Falls there’s never been a reason to use a lock?”

“Five thefts over the last week isn’t enough of a reason for you?”

“I agree, and we’ll discuss that later.” Eric walked into the room. “Alice is waiting in the hall—fully dressed,” he said in a lower voice. “I’m going to drive her home. I promised her that word of this wouldn’t get out.” His gaze settled not on Roman, who had every reason to keep this incident quiet, but on Raina, who Roman figured would love to burn the phone wires and share her eventful night with friends.

“I’m sensitive enough to know when to keep quiet,” she said, hurt flashing in her eyes.

Roman placed his hand over hers. “I’m sure he didn’t mean to insult you, Mom. He’s just being cautious.”

“Exactly. Thank you, Roman. Raina, I’ll call you.” Eric’s voice softened. “I’m sorry our evening got cut short.”

“I appreciate you getting me out of the house. You know the boys feel better about my health when I’m with you.” She gave him a wary glance. “I’ll just enjoy tea with my son. You and I can always spend time together.”

“Tomorrow night works for me.”

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“Let’s stay in tomorrow, okay?” Raina expelled a prolonged sigh.

Eric stepped forward, but she waved him away. “A cup of tea is all I need. Norman’s grease is just lying in my chest. Someone ought to break into his place and steal all the lard from his cabinets.”

Eric laughed, then turned to Roman. “I’m not sure whether to tell you to watch out for your mother or yourself.” He chuckled and before Raina could respond, Eric walked out, leaving her without the last word.

The teakettle began to sing and Roman stood up to get it. “You know, I think Dr. Fallon’s good for you.”

“You aren’t angry?” Her voice sounded soft and worried.

He glanced over his shoulder, surprised, then got back to work, steeping the tea bag in the water and adding her one teaspoon of sugar before rejoining her at the table. “Angry at what? The man obviously makes you happy. You’re getting out with him, smiling more than you have in years, and despite your health scare—”

“Maybe that’s because you’re home.”

“Or maybe it’s because a man’s finding you special and you like the attention.” He set a mug down in front of her.

“Don’t let your imagination run away with you. He’s a lonely widower and I’m keeping him company.

That’s all.”

“You’ve been a lonely widow for the last twenty or so years. It’s about time you started living your life again.”

She glanced down, staring into the cup. “I never stopped living, Roman.”

“Yes, you did.” He didn’t want to have this deep conversation, yet he couldn’t deny the time had come.

“In some ways you stopped living—and you changed how we lived as a result. Roman, Rick, and Chase, the bachelor brothers,” he said wryly.

“You’re saying it’s my fault you boys are still single?” His mother sounded outraged and hurt.

He steepled his fingers in thought. He wanted to tell her there was no blame involved, no fault, but he couldn’t lie. “You and Dad gave us a great family life.”

“And this is a bad thing? Bad enough to make you steer clear of marriage and family?”

He shook his head. “But you were devastated when he died. It was almost as if life stopped. You . . .

you lived in pain—”

“That eventually dimmed,” she reminded him. “I wouldn’t have traded one minute with your father. Not even if it meant I wouldn’t have suffered or grieved. If you don’t feel pain, you haven’t really lived,” she said softly.

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He’d already realized he hadn’t been living—when he’d connected with Charlotte this weekend. And as his mother spoke, he realized why. In an effort not to repeat the painful grieving process he’d seen his mother go through, Roman had opted to run, to travel, keeping his distance—from the town, his family, and Charlotte. Charlotte, the one woman who he’d always known, or at least sensed, could tie him to Yorkshire Falls and keep him here.

The one woman who had the power to hurt him, to make him feel the very pain he feared, should she die or leave him in any way. But his one night with her proved he couldn’t live without her either.

She was worth any risk.

“I’ve lived and I’ve loved. Not everyone can say the same. I’ve been lucky,” his mother said.

A wry smile twisted Roman’s lips. “You could have been luckier.”

A combination of sadness and happiness, of obvious memories, settled in her eyes. “I won’t lie. Of course I’d rather we’d have grown old and raised you boys together, but then I wouldn’t have this chance with Eric.” Her concerned gaze met his. “You’re sure you aren’t upset about that?”

“I think he’s good for you. Nothing about that upsets me.”

She smiled. “You do realize you can’t run away from life forever.”

He wasn’t surprised she’d read his thoughts. His mother had always been perceptive. He’d inherited the trait that had helped shape his career, but it was a pain in the ass when used against him. And it was that perceptiveness which left him too open to seeing and feeling his mother’s hurt.

“Well, I suppose you can keep running, but think about how much you’d be missing.” She patted his hand in the motherly gesture he knew so well. “And you’re too smart to continue on with something that’s an escape and not a solution. So, having said all that, where does Charlotte fit into your life now?

And don’t tell me she doesn’t.”

She’d returned to her mission. “You know me better than to think I’d tell,” Roman said.

She raised her gaze toward the heavens. “Girls. Why couldn’t God have given me one girl with my boys, so I could understand what just one of you were thinking?”

“Come on, Mom. You know you like to be kept guessing. It keeps you young.”

“I’d rather drink from the Fountain of Youth,” she muttered. “Speaking of girls, you told me you were going to visit an old friend who’d moved to Albany last night, but Samson tells me he saw Charlotte leaving in your car.”

“For a man who’s the town recluse, he’s too full of information.” Roman wondered who else had seen them leave. Not that it mattered. He intended to make an honest woman out of her, no harm to her reputation involved. Unless marrying a Chandler who had a rumored fetish for women’s panties was a problem.

As amazing as it seemed, even to him, he was ready to make a commitment now—one that offered more than he’d envisioned after losing the coin toss. But before he approached Charlotte with the idea, he needed to convince her that he could and would make a good father and husband, that he wanted Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

more than a long-distance marriage of convenience. Exactly how much more, how much he was willing to sacrifice in his career, his travel, he still had to think through. He had commitments, people relying on him, and a real enjoyment of his job he didn’t want to lose when this leave of absence was through.

But his goal now was personal. His mother’s grandchildren would be the by-product of that goal, but not the reason for Roman’s marriage. He felt light-headed and dizzy, much like the day of his first AP

assignment.

“You could have told me you were going away with Charlotte,” his mother said, interrupting his thoughts.

“And have you questioning the poor woman? I figured I’d spare her.”

An amused gleam lit her gaze. “Well, I can still do that despite your intent to keep me in the dark. But I won’t. She has enough on her hands now.”

His inner alarm went off. If Alice had been crazy enough to crawl into his bed, who knows what else was going on in this town? “Why’s that? Another panty theft?”

His mother shook her head. “No, and Rick’s plenty annoyed that no one got you off the hook last night, that much I can tell you. Not that the police consider you a suspect, but with Alice and the ladies in town still in an uproar—”

“Mom, what’s wrong with Charlotte?” He interrupted her rambling.

“Sorry. I got carried away.” She flushed.

He didn’t like the sound of her voice or the frown on her lips. “What’s going on?”

She sighed. “Russell Bronson’s back in town.”

Roman muttered a curse.

“Behave yourself,” his mother said, but the sympathetic look on her face told him she understood just why he was upset.

The timing of Charlotte’s father’s return couldn’t be worse. Just because Roman had come to terms with himself, his past, and his future didn’t mean Charlotte had. He’d been struggling with himself from the moment he’d come back to town and lost the coin toss. Despite his attempts to stay away, Charlotte was the only woman he wanted in his life. The only woman he wanted to sleep with, the only one to have his children.

Originally he’d made that choice due to losing the coin toss. It’d been a selfish, unemotional decision because he’d still been running. Still thinking of himself more than Charlotte, no matter how much he’d attempted to convince himself otherwise. He’d had a need. She’d been the one he’d chosen to fill it. So simple. So stupid. She deserved so much more—a man who loved her, who’d be there for her, and who would give her the family life she’d been denied as a child. Roman wanted to be the man to provide her with all those things. But she’d never believe him, especially not now.

Raina rested her chin on one hand. “Do you have a plan?”

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If he did, he wouldn’t share it with his mother. But as things stood now, his mind was as blank as his laptop screen on a bad day.

“Well, I suggest you come up with something,” she said in the wake of his silence.

He shot his mother an annoyed look. “That much I already figured out. But unless Russell’s not the scum of the earth the town thinks he is, I’m in trouble.”

“I don’t know what Russell is.” His mother shrugged. “He’s been gone too long. You’re the reporter, you ferret out the facts. Just remember, there are three sides to every story: his, hers, and the truth.”

Roman nodded. He just hoped the truth was enough to secure their future.

Charlotte floated into work Monday morning, light on her feet and happier than she’d been in ages. For as long as the euphoria lasted, she intended to enjoy it and not dissect all the reasons why she shouldn’t get too used to Roman or his attention. He’d asked her to keep an open mind and he made her feel too good to argue. He made her think anything was possible after all. Even them. She shocked herself with her new, enlightened attitude, but he’d given her no reason to doubt him.

“I smell coffee,” Beth said, coming out of the back room.

“You smell chai tea. Norman hasn’t progressed to iced lattes, but he has gotten this tea in and it’s delicious. Hot, cold, doesn’t matter. I went for hot today. Here, taste.” Charlotte handed Beth her own cup. “It’s very sweet,” she warned Beth in case she was expecting a more bitter taste.

Beth took an experimental sip. Her eyes opened wide. “It’s like a mix of honey and vanilla. Yum.”

“It’s originally from India. First time I had it was in New York last year.”

“I don’t even want to know calorie count.”

Charlotte shook her head. “Me neither, but this is pure indulgence and I refuse to do anything but enjoy.” A motto she seemed to have adopted since reuniting with Roman. “I’ll just eat a light salad for lunch.” Charlotte closed her eyes and inhaled the fragrant spiced tea before drinking some more.

“Mmm.” She drew out the sound.

“Uh-oh.” Beth’s voice disturbed her satisfaction.

Charlotte opened her eyes and met her friend’s knowing grin. “Uh-oh, what?”

“I recognize that look, that sound. It’s pure rapture. Ecstasy.”

“So?” Charlotte shook her head. “I told you I love this stuff.”

“Your cheeks are flushed and you’re sounding practically orgasmic. Don’t tell me it’s all about tea.”

“What else could it be about?”

Beth settled herself into a chair across from Charlotte’s cluttered desk. “What else could it be, she asks.

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As if I wouldn’t find out you and Roman were both out of town Saturday night. Coincidence? I think not.” Beth tapped her fingers on a stack of invoices. “You see, Rick and I spent Saturday night hanging out. We played darts with my most recent picture of the good doctor as the target—”

“Did he call?”

Beth’s eyes filled with tears. “I called him and when he rushed me off, I called back and ended things—and you’re interrupting.” She abruptly changed the subject.

Charlotte recognized the avoidance technique but couldn’t remain silent. “You ended it?” She rushed around her desk to hug her friend. “I know it couldn’t have been easy for you.”

“No choice.” Beth shook her head, obviously choked up.

Charlotte stepped back and sat on the corner of her desk, dangling her legs off the side. Now that she knew to look, she realized Beth no longer wore the sparkling diamond on her left hand. “And he just let you break up with him?”

“I think he was relieved.”

“The schmuck.”

Beth laughed, but tears filled her eyes. “Well, I agree, but I’m the one with the bigger problem, you know? I let myself get involved. I never looked deep enough or admitted this was a tendency he had.”

She shivered. “Let’s change the subject, okay?”

Charlotte nodded. She didn’t want to add to her friend’s pain.

Beth leaned forward, resting her elbows on the arms of the chair. “So let’s get back to my original point.”

“Which was?”

“You, and how those flushed cheeks and sounds of pleasure have nothing to do with the chai tea.”

Charlotte rolled her eyes, but Beth ignored her.

Leave it to Beth to turn the tables and put Charlotte in the hot seat. She held up both hands in front of her. “I take the Fifth.” Anything involving herself and Roman was too personal to discuss. Even with Beth.

“Aha!” She sat upright in her seat.

Charlotte narrowed her gaze. “What?”

“Taking the Fifth means you have something to protect. Something private.” Interest sparkled in the depth of Beth’s eyes as she leaned forward. “Come on, fill me in. You had more than a date, right?

Please let me revel in your good news. I have so little of my own.”

Though Charlotte felt badly about Beth’s current problems, she also recognized when she was being played, and Beth did it well. “How about this?” Charlotte offered as a compromise. “When I have news, I promise to share. Right now all I have is . . . hope.” Hope she held close to her heart, too afraid to let it Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

into daylight for fear her dreams would be just that—and she’d be left alone, like her mother.

She met her friend’s concerned gaze. “If I had something to tell, you’d be the only person I’d talk to.”

She leaned forward and squeezed Beth’s hand. “That’s a promise.”

Beth exhaled hard. “I know. I just hate being the only one revealing all her problems and weaknesses.”

“You are not weak. You’re human.”

Beth shrugged. “Let’s drink up.” She raised her Styrofoam cup. “Cheers.”

“Cheers.” Charlotte finished her now lukewarm tea in a few satisfying sips. “So. Do you mind tending shop today? I’m going to hole up in my apartment and knit.”

“Oooh, sounds exciting.”

“Not really.” She laughed. “But the money that’ll come in when we deliver the finished goods is definitely worth the hours of television watching I’ll have to endure.”

Beth rose. “Better you than me.”

“I’ll meet up with you at the Little League game later, okay?” Charlotte’s Attic had sponsored a team and Charlotte tried to get out and cheer the kids on as often as possible. Though the season was barely under way, they’d already played twice and were going into tonight’s game with a winning record. She thought of them as her team and was proud of every hit and catch made.

Beth shrugged. “Why not? It’s not like I have anything more exciting to do.”

“Gee, thanks,” Charlotte said wryly.

“Actually, I’m serious. Watching the game beats an evening of solitaire.”

Charlotte tossed her empty cup into the garbage can. “Sad as it is, the game is the highlight of my day too.” Unless Roman stopped by. You will be seeing me, he’d said, and her stomach twisted in coiled knots of anticipation. She couldn’t wait.

“My heart bleeds for you.” Beth eyed her with a complete lack of pity.

Charlotte laughed, “Yeah, yeah. Just bring dinner, because after a day of hard work, I’ll be starving.” By agreement, Charlotte and Beth alternated supplying food. Last week they’d frozen over fried chicken, and with the temperature dropping, tonight would be no different. “Don’t forget your jacket.”

“Yes, Mom.”

At Beth’s words, an odd flutter took up residence in her chest. Maybe it was her biological clock that caused the accompanying lump in her throat because it certainly couldn’t be a sudden desire for children.

Roman’s children.

Keep an open mind. But the man was still a traveler, by choice and by occupation. No way could she open her mind that wide.

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Or could she?

Later that day, Charlotte’s hands were tired, her shoulders stiff, yet she had a sense of accomplishment running through her veins. She’d crocheted, sewn, and put in a full day’s work. Then she’d painstakingly hand-wrapped a light blue pair of panties and delivered them to the next person on her customer list before stopping by the general store for some staple items for her refrigerator.

She’d returned home to find an odd message from her mother on her answering machine, promising to meet up with Charlotte tonight at the baseball game. Little League games were a town event, but her mother never made an appearance. Charlotte wondered if the local vet had anything to do with her mother’s sudden willingness to go out. If so, Charlotte was heading over to Harrington, the next town over, to pick out a dog from the shelter as added incentive for Annie to visit with the man.

Though her mother had called, Roman hadn’t. Of course, he hadn’t made any promises, which meant he hadn’t broken any either. Still, she was disappointed their time together hadn’t left him panting for more of whatever she had to offer. So much for her charm. Skill. Erotic proficiency, she thought wryly.

She couldn’t completely shake off the dismay, but she knew she’d be fine. She wasn’t her mother’s daughter, at least in that respect.

She straightened her spine, held her shoulders back, and approached the school. A chilly breeze floated in the air around her. As promised, the temperatures had taken a bizarre drop throughout the day and she hugged her arms closer around her. But, lucky for the kids and the bleacher bums like herself, they had perfect softball weather in which to enjoy the game. Charlotte’s Attic sponsored the Rockets, and she wanted to see them kick some more butt.

As she walked through the full parking lot, the baseball diamond came into view in the distance, located beyond the football field and bleachers. Her stomach growled and she placed a hand over her empty belly. She hoped Beth was waiting with something good to eat, because she was starving.

As she reached the rows of makeshift stadium seats, a place where she’d spent a lot of time as a teenager, she quickened her pace. Without warning, she was grabbed from behind. A strong hand anchored her waist, locking her arms at her sides.

Fear lodged in her throat—for all of two seconds—before familiar cologne assaulted her senses and a sexy voice muttered in her ear. “I always wanted to make out with you under the bleachers.”

Fear turned to excitement, excitement to arousal. She’d missed Roman today. And if she let herself think about just how much, the fear might well return. Instead she chose to relax in his arms and enjoy now.

As soon as he spoke, Roman felt Charlotte’s muscles ease against him. He didn’t know how he’d managed to stay away from her all day. Hell, he didn’t know how he’d stayed away from her for the last ten years. A humbling admission, for a man who made traveling his MO. He buried his face between her neck and shoulders, inhaling her fragrant scent. “You know I’d have killed to get you behind the bleachers back in high school.”

“And what would you have done with me?”

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her father’s return, which gave him this small window of opportunity to cement everything they’d shared.

He grabbed her hand and pulled her around the benches until they were well hidden from view. He ought to know. He’d specialized in hanging out here in high school. With the wrong girls.

Now he had the right one. She was dressed in blue jeans and a Little League jersey beneath an open denim jacket with a fuzzy lining. But what drew his attention most was her mouth—her lips were as red as her snakeskin boots.

He grabbed the white fleece collar and pulled her within kissing distance. “You never wore such hot-looking makeup back in high school.”

She grinned. “I wasn’t looking to attract attention back in high school.”

Unexpected relief washed over him. “Missed me today, did you?” He’d wanted to give her time to do just that before seeing her again. But he hadn’t stayed away easily.

She rolled her eyes. “I didn’t say I was looking to attract your attention.”

He wasn’t fooled. She’d missed him as much as he’d missed her. “Well, you’ve got it anyway. Now shut up and kiss me.”

She did. Her lips were chilled and he warmed them, slipping his tongue inside her mouth. She wrapped her arms around his waist and pulled him close, deepening the kiss and letting out a sigh of satisfaction he could relate to. She slid her hands into the back pocket of his jeans, her palms flat against his behind. Her tongue met his thrust for thrust, the same way their bodies, now aligned, sought to mimic the erotic motion. Unfortunately, too many layers of clothing stood between them.

Cheers sounded in the distance and she broke the kiss. “I can’t do this now,” she said through dampened lips.

He stared at her dazed expression. “Sure you can. And you want to.” Having already experienced slick heaven inside her, so did he.

She cocked her head to one side. “Okay, then, I’ll rephrase. I want to, but I can’t.”

He still gripped her forearms with both hands and the desire to make love to her—hard, cold ground be damned—was overwhelming. “Give me one reason why not, and make it a good one.”

“Because my mother left a message on my answering machine. She said she’d meet me at the baseball field. She almost never comes to town events and now we’re talking two in one week. I have to be there.”

The regret in her eyes was enough to satisfy him. For now. “I didn’t think you could come up with anything compelling enough. You did.” He released his grasp. His body wasn’t thrilled, but his heart won out. He wanted to give her what she desired, in this case seeing her mother. He just wished it wouldn’t cause her pain. “You haven’t spoken to her since you’ve been back?”

Charlotte shook her head. “We played phone tag.”

Then she definitely didn’t know about her father. “Charlotte . . .”

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“Come.” She grabbed his hand. “Let’s go find my mother, catch the game, and if you’re lucky, I’ll let you catch me afterward.” She laughed, and before he could say another word, she took off running.

With a groan, he ran after her, figuring he could just be there to minimize the damage when the shock came.

Charlotte glanced over her shoulder and laughed. Thanks to her quick dash, she was light-headed. Of course, Roman’s kiss had much to do with her dizzy state, but her escape had been born of pure self-preservation. She didn’t care how far from the baseball field they were, everyone would take one look at her and figure out what they’d been doing. So the less she did under the bleachers, the better as far as she was concerned. Until later. Then they could pick up where they left off and do whatever they wanted.

The thought sent tingles of anticipation up her spine, arousing every nerve ending she possessed, bringing a stinging flush to her cheeks. A quick glance over her shoulder, and she realized Roman was walking behind her at a leisurely pace. He grinned and waved, then got sidetracked by Rick, who grabbed him on the shoulder.

Charlotte slowed her steps, and turned back to walk right into her mother. A glowing version of her mother, from her made-up face to her bright smile and twinkling eyes.

“Mom!”

“Where are you coming from in such a hurry?” Annie steadied her with a hug before letting go.

“I’m . . .I was . . .”

“Making out under the bleachers with Roman.” Her mother reached a hand up and brushed her knuckle over Charlotte’s cheek. “I recognize the signs. Your father and I used to do it all the time.”

A protest rose to her lips. Charlotte didn’t want to accept that anything about her feelings for Roman was similar to Annie and Russell. Not even something as light and fun as acting like teenagers.

“So what brings you out tonight?” Charlotte asked.

She glanced around, looking for Dennis Sterling, then eyed her mother with curiosity. “Or maybe I should ask, who brings you out tonight?”

From the corner of her eye, Charlotte noticed Beth waving wildly in the distance. If Beth was that hungry, she should just eat without waiting. Charlotte signaled back with one finger, indicating she’d be another minute or so.

Annie sighed. “I should have known I couldn’t keep a secret in this town.”

Charlotte turned back to her mother. “Apparently you can, because I haven’t a clue what you’re talking about.” The only thing Charlotte did know was that her mother had a high-wattage smile and an easy laugh she hadn’t seen in way too long. When Charlotte ran into Dennis, she’d plant a huge kiss on him herself.

She pulled her mother into a tight hug. As she inhaled, a beautiful scent Charlotte didn’t recognize teased her senses. “Perfume and makeup,” she murmured.

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“I hope you’ll greet me with the same enthusiasm, Charlie.”

That voice, using that name. Charlotte stiffened and dropped her arms, backing slowly away from her mother. Betrayal settled like lead in her stomach. Charlotte should have known better than to think her mother had allowed herself to be interested in anyone other than her absentee husband, Russell Bronson.

She turned and faced the man who casually walked in and out of her life on his own schedule. He was as good-looking as ever, dressed in khakis and a navy pullover sweater. His hair was neatly combed, with more gray than she remembered. His face offered a few more lines, but he’d aged well. And looked happy.

Unlike her mother, Charlotte had no doubt his moods didn’t change depending upon whether or not he was with Annie. But her mother’s mood, actions, and even how she looked hinged on whether Russell was in town. And when he took off again.

Charlotte’s anger grew, not just at the man who made Yorkshire Falls and his family into a revolving door—but at her mother, for allowing herself to be manipulated so easily. And for so long.

“Charlie?”

Charlotte wrapped her arms tightly around her waist. “So the prodigal father’s returned.”

He stepped forward and she stepped back.

Disappointment flickered in his eyes—or maybe that was what she wanted to see. That darn kernel of hope she’d always held in her heart wouldn’t be extinguished, but she refused to act on it.

The baseball game continued, but Charlotte had lost interest. And apparently so had the rest of the crowd. Unless she was paranoid, she felt dozens of pairs of eyes trained on the dysfunctional Bronson family. Small-town curiosity at its finest. She braced herself against the stares and chatter, and stood in silence, waiting for her parents to speak.

Russell sighed. “Not the reception I was hoping for,” he said finally.

“But the one you expected, I’m sure.”

Roman strode to her side and placed an arm around her shoulder. More fodder for gossip at Norman’s, she thought wryly. “Am I interrupting a family reunion?”

She shook her head. “Roman, you remember my . . .” She cleared her throat. “You remember Russell, don’t you?”

“Of course.” He extended his hand. “Nice to see you again.”

Sweet Raina had instilled perfect manners into all three of her sons. Too bad she hadn’t given them her sense of stability and roots.

Russell shook Roman’s hand. “It’s been a while.”

“It certainly has,” Roman said.

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She gritted her teeth, forced a smile, and aimed her next comments Roman’s way. “True. And considering you’ve been in town for a few days, you’re more up on what’s new around here. So why don’t you catch Russell up on what he’s missed during this last absence?”

Roman’s sharp intake of breath sliced into her heart, but she refused to let it change her intentions. In her mind, she saw herself as she’d been when she’d run out from behind the bleachers, laughing, happy, and excited from her run-in with Roman. Looking forward with aroused anticipation to the night ahead, when she could get him alone. And before her now, she saw her mother, with similarly flushed cheeks and a carefree expression—all because Russell Bronson had deigned to return.

The parallels between herself and her mother were strong. So strong, she could begin to see how Annie’s life began and ended with Russell. A lifetime in limbo. No way would Charlotte allow herself to end up like her. She looked back and forth between the two men with the power to rip her heart to pieces if she let them. She couldn’t afford to soften toward either one right now.

Much as she didn’t want to hurt Roman, he represented everything she feared. How had she let herself forget that? “You know, now that I think about it, you two have so much in common it’s uncanny.”

Russell glanced at Roman, or, more accurately, Charlotte thought, Roman’s hand on her shoulder. “I’m not sure that’s true.”

“Oh, I am. How long are you in town for this time? A day? A weekend? Or maybe longer, since you have a few months before pilot season starts.”

“Charlotte!” Her mother spoke up, giving her daughter a warning touch on the arm.

Charlotte covered her mother’s chilled hand with her own. The last person she wanted to hurt was Annie. “See? He doesn’t have an answer, Mom. He’ll leave when he gets bored.”

Charlotte glanced up at Roman, then turned away when a lump rose to her throat. “How about you?”

she asked without meeting his gaze. “Raina looks healthier by the day, thank God.” She pointed to where his mother sat on a beach blanket with Eric Fallon, watching them. So were Fred Aames, Marianne Diamond, Pearl Robinson, Eldin Wingate, and everyone else in town. Charlotte hated being the center of notoriety. “You can take off anytime now too. I told you, you both had a lot in common.”

Before she could lose control of herself or what remained of her composure, she pivoted and took off.

Away from her mother, her father, but most of all, away from Roman.

CHAPTER TEN

Roman watched Charlotte go. Away from the field, her father, and away from him. Her pain was his pain, and he shoved his hands in his pockets and groaned in frustration. He couldn’t let her run off alone.

Not when she was so upset. He’d just seen firsthand the devastation her father’s return had caused.

“Someone ought to go after her,” Annie said. Clearly she wasn’t referring to herself, since she gripped Russell’s arm more firmly.

“Someone should,” Russell added. “But she won’t listen to anything I have to say.”

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“Is it any wonder?” Roman raised an eyebrow at her parents. “I’m not here to pass judgment”—Lord knew he didn’t live a blameless life—“but did either one of you consider talking to her privately instead of making a public spectacle of this family reunion?” Feeling precious minutes slipping away, Roman glanced out toward the field. Relief passed through him when he realized Charlotte was taking the long route home, on foot.

Russell shrugged helplessly, regret obvious in the green eyes that looked so much like Charlotte’s.

“Annie felt sure she wouldn’t come over if we told her on the phone and thought she wouldn’t walk out on us in a crowd.”

“And you don’t know her well enough to say differently.”

Russell shook his head. “But I want to. I always have.”

Roman’s mother and Eric chose that moment to join them. Roman had been surprised to see his mother at the baseball game, but since she’d been with Eric again, and sitting on a blanket the whole time, he figured she was feeling up to it. And maybe even feeling a bit better.

“I hope we’re not interrupting,” Eric said.

“Apparently, in this group, the more the merrier,” Roman muttered. He had little time left before he’d have to break down Charlotte’s door if he wanted to get her alone. “Russell, can I have a word with you?” he asked, shooting his mother a pointed, knowing glance.

“Annie, come have some lemonade. I made it myself and it’s delicious.”

“But . . .” Panic flared in Annie’s eyes, as if she were afraid in the five minutes she’d be gone, Russell would disappear again.

Watching Annie gave Roman better insight into Charlotte’s fears. She wasn’t anything like her insecure mother, yet he could see how she’d instilled a fear in Charlotte—the fear of becoming as needy and sadly pathetic and isolated as her own mother.

He wanted to shield her from pain and take care of her forever, but Charlotte would freeze him out before she’d let him close enough to hurt her. And the thought shook him straight to the core.

Because he loved her.

He loved her. The truth settled in his heart, warming places that had always been cold.

He admired her fierce desire to maintain herself and her individuality, to not end up like her mother. He admired the business she’d built on her own, in a town that hadn’t been prepared, yet she’d won the people over anyway. He loved how she saw the best in him even when he didn’t deserve it. He loved everything about her.

Viewing her deepest pain up close forced him to acknowledge his feelings. Feelings that had to come second to Charlotte’s needs or he’d risk losing her forever. He’d tell her, but the timing had to be right.

It was beyond him how he’d know when that was. Roman’s family was hardly setting an example of functional relationships. Chase was hanging out with the single guys from the paper, drinking beer, talking sports, and sleeping with the occasional good-time woman and never getting involved. Rick rescued Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

women, and right now he was playing Prince Charming to Beth Hansen until she got over her broken engagement and was ready to move on. Then he’d move on as well to the next woman in his life.

Roman shook his head, knowing he didn’t have the role models to look to for answers. He was on his own.

“No buts,” Eric cut in, speaking to Annie, his voice somehow soothing yet authoritative at the same time.

“I have to insist you taste Raina’s drink. Besides, Raina isn’t supposed to spend too much time on her feet, and I’d appreciate you taking her back to the blanket until I can get there.”

“Go on, Annie.” Russell patted her arm and eased himself out of her grasp.

Once the trio had disappeared, Roman faced Charlotte’s father. “I don’t have much time.”

“I realize that. But you should know life is more complicated than any of you”—Russell swept his arm around, gesturing to the ball field and hence the people of the town—“can understand.”

In his pained expression, Roman didn’t see the self-absorbed actor who’d abandoned his family for fame and fortune. Instead he saw an aging man who’d lost much. Roman let out a groan. “It’s not any of us who needs to understand. It’s your daughter.” He pinned Russell with a steady gaze. “If you really care, I hope you’ll take the time during this trip to prove it.”

“She’d have to be willing to listen.”

Roman shrugged. “Make her listen.” After a last glare, Roman took off for the parking lot at a run, intending to take his own advice.

“It’s time, Annie.” Russell Bronson sat on the picnic blanket loaned to him by Raina Chandler. After the four of them had talked, Eric had taken Raina home, leaving Russell and Annie alone. Russell remembered Raina as a kind neighbor, a good mother to her three boys, and a friend to his wife.

Obviously things hadn’t changed.

And that was the problem, Russ thought. Nothing had changed. From the day he married Annie Wilson, the girl he’d fallen in love with in fifth grade, until now, everything in Annie’s world had stayed the same.

She curled her legs beneath her and stared out at the players on the field. “I’m not sure it will make a difference,” she said at last.

Neither was he, but all they could do was try. Russell patted his pocket and felt for the paper he’d taken from Dr. Eric Fallon. Before taking his leave, Eric had spoken to both Russell and Annie as her doctor.

Annie was depressed, he’d said. Clinically, most probably.

Why hadn’t Russell realized it before? He’d like to think it was because he wasn’t a doctor, but he was man enough to acknowledge his own faults. He was selfish and self-centered. His desires had always come first. He’d never slowed down long enough to consider why Annie spoke and acted the way she did. He’d just accepted Annie, same as she’d accepted him.

Depression, he thought once more. Something Charlotte had picked up on and called Dr. Fallon about.

Now it was up to Russell to ask Annie to get herself help. He shook his head and silently thanked his Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

beautiful, headstrong daughter for realizing what he hadn’t.

His daughter. A woman with a combination of disdain, fear, and vulnerability in her eyes. He’d caused each emotion. And he despised himself for it. But he had a chance now to correct many wrongs. Starting with Annie and ending with his daughter.

Annie hadn’t responded to his declaration. It was time. And he’d lead her there any way he had to, Russell thought. “How does Charlotte feel about Roman Chandler?”

Annie tipped her head to the side. Her soft hair fell to her shoulders and the urge to run his fingers through the jet-black strands was strong. Always had been.

“Same as I feel about you. Charlotte’s destined to repeat the pattern. He’ll go, he’ll return. And she’ll be here when he does. It’s in our genes.” She spoke matter-of-factly, as if that possibility didn’t bother her at all. She was too complacent, too accepting—and he’d taken advantage of that, he realized now.

Whether he’d known she was clinically depressed or not, he’d used her complacency as an excuse to come and go as he pleased. He shook his head, disgusted with himself.

He couldn’t change the past, but he didn’t want the same future for his daughter. “I disagree,” he said, fighting Annie’s description of Charlotte and Roman. “But she is destined to end up alone, pushing away any man who doesn’t choose to settle in Yorkshire Falls.”

Annie shook her head. “If you’re right, at least she won’t spend her life waiting for him to come back.

Feeling alive only during visits.”

Russell looked at his wife, seeing her, their past, and their future all together now. He’d thought that by remaining in her hometown, Annie would be happy, but instead she was miserable. By choice, he admitted. “Whether she waits for Roman’s sporadic returns or she turns her back on him and ends up alone, either way it will be cold and lonely. And you damn well know it.”

She rested her head on his shoulder. “I’m not cold or lonely now.” She sighed, her breath warm against his neck.

No, Russell thought, she was accepting and he was coming to hate that word. Annie accepted.

Whatever he did and whatever life threw her way. He’d once believed he could make them both happy, but that notion had shattered quickly. Nothing would make Annie truly happy unless he gave up on himself and settled in Yorkshire Falls. And even then, a part of Russell had always suspected that wasn’t the answer. Not that it mattered.

He hadn’t been able to forfeit his life for her, any more than he could get Annie to leave this town behind. He’d committed himself to her. They’d each chosen their way of life. He couldn’t say they lived full or happy lives; still, they carried on. He loved her as much now as he had way back when. But he’d done no one a favor by letting her have her way.

Least of all his daughter.

Charlotte deserved to choose her destiny as well. But she deserved to make an educated decision. “She needs to know, Annie. She needs to understand the choices we made.”

“What if she hates me?”

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He held her close. “You raised her well and she loves you. In time she’ll come to understand.” And if she didn’t, well, at least he and Annie would free her from repeating the past. He hoped.

Roman caught up with Charlotte walking down First Street. He beeped once, then slowed his car alongside her. She glanced over and kept walking.

“Come on, Charlotte. Get in the car.”

“You don’t want to deal with my mood right now, Roman.”

“Any woman who admits to being in a mood is all right by me.” He kept the car at a slow crawl. “Where are you going?”

She tilted her head his way. “Home.”

“Is your fridge as empty as mine?”

“Go away.”

He wasn’t taking no for an answer. In fact, he had three things guaranteed to change her mind. “I’ll take you for Chinese food, I’ll get you out of town, and I won’t discuss your father.”

She paused.

“And in case those promises don’t sway you, I’ll start honking the horn, making a scene, and I won’t stop until you’re buckled in next to me. The choice is yours.”

She swung around, yanked open the door, and flung herself into the seat beside him. “It was the Chinese food that got to me.”

He grinned. “I wouldn’t presume anything else.”

“Good. Because I wouldn’t, for one second, want you to think it had anything to do with your charm.”

He hit the gas pedal and headed on out of town. “You think I’m charming?” he asked.

Arms folded, she eyed him warily.

In the wake of her silence, he said, “I’ll take that as a yes.”

She shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

Obviously she wasn’t in the mood for verbal games. That was okay. As long as she was within two feet of him and he could keep an eye on her, he was happy.

Twenty minutes later, they were seated in a typical Chinese restaurant—red velvet brocade wallpaper and dark sconce lighting added to the ambience.

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A waiter led them to a corner table, half booth, half with chairs. A family of four, two adults and two young boys, were noisily eating beside them on the right. A fish tank sat in one corner and an indoor pond full of tropical fish was located to their right.

“Okay with you?” Roman asked Charlotte, of the table. He didn’t mind the kids, but he couldn’t gauge her mood.

A smile pulled at her lips. “As long as I don’t order fish, this is fine.” She slid into the booth.

He could have sat across from her and kept his distance. Instead he chose to join her, trapping her between himself and the wall.

She greeted him with an obviously fake pout. “You don’t play fair.”

“Did I say I would?” He recognized the verbal sparring as a means of avoiding anything serious. He wondered how long it would last.

Charlotte shook her head. She couldn’t focus on Roman now. Instead she looked past him to the family of four. The two blond-haired boys had trouble gleaming in their eyes as one brother lifted a crispy noodle, held it between his thumb and forefinger. He narrowed his gaze, getting ready to flick it. His brother whispered something in his ear and when he shifted for a different angle, Charlotte figured he was egging him on. Their parents, engaged in serious conversation, seemed not to notice.

“He wouldn’t,” Roman leaned back and whispered.

“I wouldn’t bet the ranch.” She used the old cliché. “Actually, in your case, I wouldn’t bet the suitcase.”

“Ouch.”

She ignored him, watching the kids instead. “Ready, aim, fire,” she whispered in time to the boy’s actions.

As if on cue, the kid sent the hard noodle, which had broken in two, soaring into the air before it took a less-than-graceful plop into the goldfish-strewn water.

“Can a fish die from being hit with a fried wonton?” she asked.

“What about swallowing a fried wonton? If he were my kid, I’d grab him by the collar and dunk him headfirst. After I silently applauded his aim.”

“Spoken like a man who’s seen his share of trouble as a kid.”

He shot her the incredible smile that melted her insides and made her want to crawl into his lap and never leave. Dangerous thought. She bit down on the inside of her cheek.

“I can relate to him. My brothers and I caused plenty of trouble when we were young.”

She turned toward him and leaned forward in her seat, resting her chin on her hands. “Such as?” She needed to get lost in happy times. Other people’s happy times.

“Let’s see.” He paused in thought. “I’ve got one. There was the time Mom attended back-to-school Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

night and left Chase to watch me and Rick.”

“Chase ruled like a dictator?”

“When he was awake, yes. But that night he fell asleep.” Laugh lines touched the corners of his eyes as he recalled the memory.

“Please don’t tell me you tied him up.”

“Hell, no!” He sounded offended. “Give us some credit for imagination. Let’s just say Mom’s makeup case offered a wealth of possibilities.”

She felt her eyes opening wide. “He didn’t wake up?”

“The only benefit to having Chase as a pseudo-dad was that he slept like a dead one. We made him look mighty purty,” Roman said with a deliberate southern drawl. “His date thought so too.”

Charlotte let out a whoop of laughter. “No kidding?”

Roman shook his head. “He was eighteen, dating a college freshman, and she’d offered to meet him at our house so they could leave as soon as Mom got home. Doorbell rang, we woke him to answer it . . .”

Charlotte didn’t hear the rest; she was laughing too hard, tears running down her face at the absurdity.

“Oh, I wish I could have seen that.”

He leaned closer. “I have pictures.”

She wiped at her eyes with a linen napkin. “I have to see.”

“Marry me and I’ll show you.”

Charlotte blinked and sat up straighter in her seat. The boys were joking nearby, the scent of egg rolls drifted toward her, and Roman was proposing marriage? She had to have heard wrong. Had to.

“What?”

He grabbed for her hand, holding it close and tight within his strong, heated grasp. “I said, marry me.”

His eyes grew wide and he seemed stunned he’d spoken the words, but he obviously wasn’t too stunned to repeat them.

She was floored. “You don’t . . . I can’t . . . you can’t mean that,” she managed to sputter. Her heart beat frantically in her chest and she had trouble catching her breath. Two surprises in one day. First her father, now this. She reached for the water, but her hands shook so badly she had to put the glass down before she dropped it.

He raised the glass and held it to her lips. She took a long, cold sip, then licked the droplets off her mouth. “Thank you.”

He nodded. “I didn’t mean to blurt it out that way, but I did mean every word.”

She wondered when the room would stop spinning. “Roman, you can’t possibly want to get married.”

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“Why not?”

She wished he’d look away, anything to break the connection, because those mesmerizing blue eyes were begging her to say yes, and to hell with the hows and whys. But her father’s timely return had shown her exactly why she couldn’t follow her heart. “Because . . .” She shut her eyes and attempted to formulate the best answer. The one that made the most rational sense. The one that explained their differences.

“I love you.”

Her eyelids fluttered open wide. “You can’t . . .”

He leaned forward, one arm propped over the back of the booth, and he shut her up with a kiss. A warm, heart-melting kiss. “You need to stop using that word— can’t, ” he murmured, his mouth still lingering over hers. Then he locked his lips with hers again and swept his tongue deep inside, consuming her, until a low growl rose in her throat.

“Hey, Ma, look! They’re French kissing.”

“Eew, tongues and all. Can they do that in public?”

Charlotte and Roman broke apart. The heat from an embarrassed blush rose to her cheeks. She shook her head and laughed. “This from the kid who was using fish for target practice.”

“I asked you a question,” Roman said, all too serious.

“And you have to know my answer.” Her heart beat painfully in her chest. “I . . .” She licked her damp lips. “You’ve seen my parents, you know my mom’s life. How can you ask me to repeat it?” She hung her head, wishing with everything in her she could sustain the righteous anger she’d summoned at the baseball game, even if she had transferred her feelings from her father to Roman.

“I’m not asking you to relive their lives.” He held her face in his hands. Gently. Reverently.

The lump returned to her throat. “Are you planning on living in Yorkshire Falls?” She already knew the answer and prepared herself accordingly.

He shook his head. “But”—his fingers tightened around her face—“I’m looking into possibilities. I don’t want to lose you and I’m willing to work out a compromise. All I’m asking you to do is keep an open mind. Give me time to work out something we’ll both be comfortable with.”

She swallowed hard, unable to believe what she was hearing, unsure if she could trust in the intangible and not get hurt. Then again, she’d be hurt losing him any way things played out. She wanted more time with him before the inevitable happened.

If the inevitable happened. She shoved all thoughts of her parents from her mind. She’d have to deal with them soon enough. Roman had used the word compromise, which meant he was taking her needs into consideration. Unexpected adrenaline flowed through her system. “You said you loved me?”

He nodded. Swallowed. She watched his throat move convulsively up and down.

“I’ve never said that to anyone else.”

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She blinked back moisture. “Me neither.”

His hands fell from her face to her shoulders. “What are you saying?”

“I love you too.”

“He’s gonna do it again,” one of the kids at the other table yelled.

“Eww,” his brother repeated, twice as loud.

Roman laughed and she felt his pleasure as strong and intense as her own.

“Can you imagine having a houseful of boys?” he asked.

“Don’t even joke about something so serious.”

He ignored her and merely grinned. “Boys run in my family and we both know it’s my genes that determine sex. And think about how much fun we could have making those babies.” His fingertips began a rhythmic massage of her shoulder muscles that turned into erotic foreplay.

Roman’s children. She trembled from the inside out, wanting more than she ever believed possible and knowing it was probably out of reach. They still had much to work out before she could let herself think about that kind of future.

But he’d touched her heart—owned it, actually. He always had, from the night he’d shared his deepest dreams and she’d had no choice but to push him away in response.

She hadn’t made any concrete decisions, but she knew she wouldn’t push him away now.

“Ready to order?” a tall, dark-haired waiter asked.

“No,” they both said at the same time.

Charlotte didn’t know how, but minutes later, stomach still empty and a twenty-dollar bill left on the table, they were back on the road, headed home, and half an hour after that, she let them into her dark apartment.

She hit the switch in the hall and the overhead lamp came on, bathing them in muted light. He kicked the door closed behind him and pulled her into his arms. Standing, she leaned against the wall as his lips came down hard on hers. His need was blatant, apparent, and as deep as her own. She shed her jacket, dropping it to the floor, and Roman made even faster work of her jersey, until she was wearing only her red boots, blue jeans, and white lace bra.

He sucked in a shallow breath as he traced the floral pattern with roughened fingertips. Her nipples pebbled beneath his touch and her body coiled tight, desire spiraling through her at a rapid pace.

“You’ve got to be hot in all those clothes.” She reached for the collar of his jacket and pulled it down, letting it join hers in a heap.

His blue eyes glittered with anticipation and desire. “What I’m feeling goes way beyond hot.” He pulled Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

his navy shirt over his head and tossed it aside. It hit the wall behind them and dropped with a muted thump. “Your turn.”

A steady rhythm took up residence between her legs, and moisture accompanied his seductive words.

Excitement was her companion as she bent over and pulled at her boots to get them off, but her hands shook and the leather seemed to mold tighter to her foot.

“Let me.” He knelt down and pulled first one red snakeskin boot off, then the next, before turning his attention to the button on her jeans. He worked it like a pro, his strong hands lowering the zipper, then easing the waistband over her hips.

Her legs shook and only the wall supported her as he brought the heavy denim around her ankles. And stopped. She tried to wiggle one foot free, but the darn jeans were too narrow at the bottom.

“Don’t bother. I’ve got you right where I want you.” He knelt on the floor at her feet and looked up at her. A wicked grin tugged at his lips and a satisfied expression settled on his handsome face.

She was held captive by more than confining clothing. She was imprisoned by desire and bound by love.

Love he reciprocated. And when he bent over, his hair dark against her white skin, white-hot arrows of desire shot through her body, a distinct combination of erotic craving and emotional need.

She wanted nothing more than for him to satisfy the divergent desires, but knew nothing less than him being inside her would do. He met her gaze and must have read her mind, because instead of pleasuring her with his mouth as he’d seemed intent on doing, he worked her pants off and rose to his feet. In seconds, he was as undressed as she was, gloriously naked and as aroused as she.

He stepped toward her and held out his arms. “Come.”

She did as he asked and soon he’d lifted her into his arms, her legs wrapped around his waist, her hands looped around his neck, and, once again, her back against the wall. His body heat and strength seeped into her, cocooning her in warmth and arousing her even more.

“I need you inside me,” Charlotte said.

Roman groaned. “I need the same thing.”

It took some jockeying, but she finally felt his erection, large and full, ready to enter her. And when he thrust inside her, her heart opened to all possibilities. How could it not, when he was full to bursting inside her?

As he moved, every hard ridge of his arousal caused a glorious friction inside her that built stronger with each successive thrust of his penis higher and deeper than before. She couldn’t catch her breath, didn’t need to, as sensation after sensation washed over her, carrying her up and over the edge and into the most explosive climax she’d ever experienced—because it was marked by love.

His shuddering groan told her he’d felt it too. She loved him. And later, as she fell asleep in his arms, she wondered why she’d denied herself the admission for so long.

Charlotte awoke and stretched, feeling the cool sheets on her bare skin. The sensation of waking up Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

alone was normal and alien at the same time. No different than most mornings of her life, and yet because she’d slept through the night snuggled against Roman’s body, the chill was unwelcome and disturbing. So were the emotions that buffeted her still-dream-fogged brain.

She understood his reasons for kissing her and slipping out in the dead of night and she appreciated the respect he showed her in front of a gossipy small town. But she missed him, wanted to make love to him again. She loved him. Each thought frightened her beyond belief.

Rising, she went about her morning routine, attempting to pretend everything was still the same. Hot shower, hotter coffee, and a quick jump down the steps to work. Yup, Charlotte thought, same routine.

But there was no getting around the fact that she was different.

Because she’d committed herself to Roman with those three little words. I love you. And now that the words were spoken, she feared her life was about to change forever. If history was anything to go by—her mother’s, her father’s, and even Roman’s—it wouldn’t change for the better.

On that disturbing thought, she entered the unlocked shop, hoping the familiarity of the ruffles and lace and the vanilla potpourri she freshened daily would soothe her nerves. She stepped inside and the unexpected smell of lavender assaulted her senses, jarring her and destroying any sense of soothing sameness she hoped to find here.

“Beth?” she called out.

“Back here.” Her friend strode out of the back room, a bottle of sachet air freshener in her hand, spraying as she walked. “The cleaning people were here last night and they must’ve spilled a bottle of ammonia in the office.” She waved her hand in front of her face. “You could die from asphyxiation back there. I’ve been spraying from the front on back trying to cover it.”

Charlotte crinkled her nose in disgust. “Yuck. Is it really that bad?” Because the lavender was enough to make her gag too. Charlotte walked farther into the store, dropping her purse by the counter, and when she reached the dressing area, she reared back from the horrific odor. “Whew.” The idea of closing herself in her office and losing her thoughts in paperwork had just been shot to hell.

Beth nodded. “I shut the door from the office to stop the worst of the odor from getting into the changing rooms, and I opened the windows all the way, hoping to air the place out.”

“Thanks. At least it’s not too bad up front.”

“Let’s hope it stays that way.”

“Well, we’ll have to close off the dressing area and mark the receipts—you can take returns on any item bought today.” Normally on-sale items, bathing suits, and underwear were exchange only, but it wasn’t a fair policy if a buyer couldn’t try on the merchandise first. “If the smell gets worse, we’ll just close for the day. No sense poisoning ourselves.”

Beth sprayed a few more shots of lavender.

“Couldn’t you have picked any other scent?”

“The general store was out of everything else.”

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“Never mind. Just please, quit spraying and let’s see what happens.”

After placing the can down on a shelf, Beth followed Charlotte to the front end, where Charlotte wedged open the front door for fresh air.

“So.” Beth perched herself on the counter by the register. “I’m glad to see you here and smiling. How are you after . . . you know?” She lowered her voice to a hushed whisper on the last two words, obviously referring to the spectacle Charlotte and her family had made at the baseball game yesterday.

Once Charlotte had climbed into Roman’s car, she’d forgotten all about Beth, dinner, and everything else. “I’m fine,” she said in equally hushed tones before catching herself. She glanced around the empty shop and rolled her eyes. “Why are we whispering?” she asked loudly.

Beth shrugged. “Beats me.”

“Well, I am fine. I didn’t appreciate being ambushed in public, though. If Dad—I mean, Russell—wanted to talk to me, he should have called. Or come over. Or gotten me somewhere alone. It was humiliating.”

Beth glanced down at her nails, not meeting Charlotte’s gaze as she asked, “Would you have given him the time of day if he had?”

Charlotte rolled her shoulders, where tension courtesy of this conversation had lodged. “I don’t know.

Would you give Dr. Implant the time of day?” She immediately sucked in a sharp breath, disgusted with her comeback. “Good God, I’m sorry, Beth. I don’t know why I’m taking things out on you.” Charlotte ran to the counter and gave Beth an apologetic hug. “Forgive me?”

“Of course. You don’t have a sister to torture and your mother’s too fragile. Who else is there but poor me?” Despite the harsh words, when Beth pulled back, she had a smile on her face.

“Actually, you asked an interesting question. I would give Dr. Implant the time—long enough to thank him for opening my eyes to my insecurities. Then I’d dump ice water on his lap.”

“You’re really feeling better?” Charlotte asked.

“How do I explain it?” Beth glanced upward, as if searching for answers. “I’m feeling aware,” she said.

“All I do lately is think, and I can see a pattern in my past relationships now. All the men I’ve been involved with wanted to change me, and I let them. I easily adapted to whatever they wanted me to be.

David was the most extreme case. But no more. And I have you and Rick to thank for helping me on the road to recovery.”

“Me?” Charlotte asked, surprised. “What did I do?”

“I told you the other day. You offered me this job because you knew better than me where my talents and interests lay. Now I know it too. And that’s just for starters.”

“Well, I’m glad to be of service. And what about Rick?”

“He talked and he listened. Most men don’t talk. They watch television, grunt, maybe burp a few times before nodding their heads and pretending to pay attention. Rick listened to the stories about my past and he helped me draw the right conclusions.”

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“The man’s born to rescue damsels in distress. Maybe he should’ve been a shrink, not a cop.”

“Nah, the law-and-order thing makes him sexy,” Beth said with a laugh.

“Please don’t tell me you’re falling for him.”

Beth shook her head. “Nohow, no way. I’m on my own for a good long while.”

Charlotte nodded. And she believed her friend. Beth’s eyes didn’t take on a dreamy cast when she spoke about Rick. She didn’t seem to swoon over the sexy officer. Not the way Charlotte swooned when she thought about Roman. Her insides churned with anticipation and excitement at just the idea of seeing him again.

“I need to learn more about myself,” Beth said, interrupting Charlotte’s thoughts, and not a minute too soon. “I want to figure out what I like and what I don’t. Not what’s expected of me. So for now all I need is my friends.”

“You’ve got us, hon.” Charlotte clasped Beth’s hand tightly and Beth returned the gesture. Charlotte only hoped she wouldn’t be the one needing her friend’s shoulder next.

“So what are you going to do now that you can’t hole up in your office and do paperwork? Crochet again upstairs?”

She cringed at the thought. “No. My hands hurt. I need to spread out that kind of work. First I’ll stop by the Gazette offices and talk to Chase about an Easter sale ad. I can’t believe the holiday’s only two and a half weeks away.”

“Know what the best part of the holiday is?”

Charlotte tapped one finger against her forehead. “Hmm. Let me think. Could it be the chocolate Cadbury Bunny commercials?” she asked, referring to her best friend’s weakness.

“How’d you know?”

“Are you forgetting I sent you wrapped chocolate every holiday? I know you like I know the back of my hand.” Charlotte picked her bag up off the floor where she’d left it earlier.

“We get to pig out together this year.” Beth licked her lips in chocolate-heaven anticipation.

Charlotte laughed. “I’ll stop by when I leave the Gazette. If it’s quiet, I may just take the paperwork and bills upstairs.”

“I knew this would happen.” Beth shook her head sadly. “One day at home crocheting, and you’re hooked on the soaps.”

“Untrue.”

“Are you denying you’re going to watch General Hospital while you work?”

Charlotte gestured as if she were zipping her lips. She refused to confirm or deny. Of course she’d Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

watch General Hospital. Because one certain sexy actor reminded her of Roman.

Man, oh, man, she was in deeper trouble than she thought. “See ya later.” She waved and walked out the front door into the fresh air and inhaled deeply. “Much better,” she said aloud. She hiked her purse onto her shoulder and started down the road.

As she passed the outskirts of town and the final median of grass, daffodils, and other assorted flowers, she saw Samson weeding the flower beds and called out to him. He didn’t hear her, or chose to pretend he hadn’t.

“Oh, well.” She shrugged and continued on, grateful for the fresh spring air. As she walked, her thoughts drifted to Roman. Tingling anticipation mixed with trepidation over the words they’d exchanged and the level of commitment those words implied.

She wondered not only what Roman meant by working out a compromise, but whether she could trust in the love he’d given and the marriage he claimed he desired.

Roman let himself into the Gazette offices, using his key. The place was still quiet. It was too early for Lucy’s arrival, and from the look of things, even Chase hadn’t made it downstairs yet. Roman needed fresh-brewed coffee and fresher air than the stuffy office provided, so he left the door to the street open, then headed for the kitchen to make something strong and caffeinated to drink.

Daybreak had forced him out of Charlotte’s bed. He’d left her asleep. Only a kiss on her cheek and then he was gone. The town was talking enough about Charlotte and her family. He didn’t need to add to the gossip by walking out of her apartment in broad daylight. Leaving in the early morning was chancy, but he hadn’t been able to resist the opportunity to spend the night in her bed, her warm, naked body snuggled tight against his. As it would be for the rest of his life.

A tremor shook him hard. He might have acknowledged difficult truths—that he wanted to stop running, wanted to settle down, and that he did love Charlotte—but he’d be a liar if he said he wasn’t scared shitless. Not enough to change his mind. Just enough to make him human, Roman thought. He was on the verge of a major life change and it had him on edge.

He still couldn’t believe the words had came out of his mouth. Not that the words had been difficult. For a writer, they never were. But Roman always thought things through first, then spoke with precision.

He’d never before let emotion overrule common sense. But his feelings for Charlotte were over ten years in the making. He wanted to marry her and he did love her. He hadn’t planned on either declaration, but spontaneity was good. It kept a relationship fresh, Roman thought wryly.

But his hand shook as he worked on the coffee, counting scoops and filling the machine with water. His timing could have been better. He’d proposed in public, when she was coming off an emotional confrontation with her father, and before he’d had the chance to make decisions crucial to their future.

Given all that, he had to admit she’d taken his words better than he could have imagined.

But now that he was alone in the office he’d spent so much time in as a kid, he realized his escape from Charlotte’s bed was a good thing. He needed time alone, to figure out how to balance his life now, and he had no idea what came next. Though he figured contacting the Washington Post about that job offer would be a good start. The notion of picking up the phone didn’t instill in him the urge to run. He decided that was a good sign.

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“Hey, little brother. You’re up early.” Chase walked into the main room of the offices. “What are you doing here? Mom run out of Cocoa Puffs?”

Roman shrugged. “I wouldn’t know.” Because he hadn’t been home long enough to eat breakfast. He glanced at his oldest sibling. “You know, I just realized we’ve done nothing but talk about me since I hit town. What’s going on with you these days?”

Chase shrugged. “Same old thing.”

“Any new women?” Roman hadn’t seen Chase with anyone in particular since he’d been home.

Chase shook his head.

“So what do you do for company? What takes care of the loneliness?” Roman asked. And he wasn’t talking about just sex. The brothers never divulged that kind of information. Chase knew what Roman meant. They both experienced that damn loneliness that came from their choices. The kind Charlotte had taken care of for him.

With a shrug, Chase said, “If I need company, I have some friends in Harrington. You know Yorkshire Falls is too damn small to get involved without anyone knowing. But I’m not lacking for company. Now back to you.”

Roman laughed. Chase never could sustain a conversation about himself for too long. “What would you say if I told you the Washington Post offered me an editorial job?” he asked his oldest brother.

Chase padded across the room in socks, no shoes—one of the benefits of living upstairs—and joined Roman in the small kitchen area, where he poured himself a cup of coffee. He raised the mug. “Thanks, by the way.”

Roman leaned against the refrigerator. “No sweat.”

“I’d say don’t take a desk job because of the coin toss.”

He ran a hand through his hair. “I can’t pretend it didn’t happen.” The irony was, Roman was now grateful he’d lost the coin toss, glad he was forced to stick around Yorkshire Falls, glad he’d been forced to consider marriage. Because the circumstances had conspired to give him a second chance with Charlotte, the woman he loved.

The woman he’d always loved.

“That coin toss is the reason my entire life is about to change.” He shook his head. That hadn’t come out right. Actually, the coin toss had provided the impetus to begin a new life. But love was the reason he was marrying Charlotte. Not family obligation.

“Marriage is a huge step. So’s a baby. I know how bad Mom wants grandkids, but you have to admit, since Eric, she’s calmed down a little.”

“That’s because he’s keeping her too busy to bother us, but trust the one who sees her most mornings—she hasn’t forgotten she wants grandchildren and she’s still swigging Maalox.” Though sometimes Roman thought she seemed more active when she thought he wasn’t around, he figured he Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

was imagining things. “So if you ask me, nothing’s changed as far as that goes.” But Roman’s feelings about his mother’s needs had changed.

“I still say make sure you can live with any decision you make.” Chase paused for a gulp of coffee.

“Rick and I will understand if you don’t want to be the sacrificial lamb in Mom’s quest for grandchildren just because you lost the coin toss. You can still back out of the deal.”

Chase’s words were ones Roman had used himself a short time ago. But things had changed from the time Roman had returned, exhausted, from London.

Until recently, he hadn’t taken the time to examine the hows and whys of his actions during his short time home. Jet-lagged and exhausted, he’d just known the family had a need and it was his turn to fill it.

Charlotte’s presence in town had changed things. And he wondered how to explain his change of heart to Chase, the brother who prized his solitude and bachelor status most.

Charlotte walked up the path to the Gazette , only to find the door wide open. She knocked lightly, but no one answered. Since the Gazette had always been a relaxed place, one where you could stop by, hang out, talk to Lucy, Ty Turner, or even Chase, depending on his mood and schedule, she let herself inside. Expecting to see Lucy on the phone at her desk, Charlotte was surprised to see the large room was empty.

She glanced at her watch and realized it was earlier than she’d thought. But voices came from the kitchen and Charlotte followed the low-pitched tones. The closer she came, the stronger the smell of coffee, and her stomach began a steady rumble, reminding her she hadn’t had anything to eat yet today.

A masculine voice sounded like Roman and her insides twisted into coiled knots. Would it always be like this? she wondered. Pure enjoyment at the thought of seeing him? His voice exciting her, turning her on? An overwhelming desire to look into those deep blue eyes and have them stare back at her with equal longing? If so, she hoped like hell he felt the same way, because she didn’t see her affliction going away anytime soon.

She reached the doorway to the kitchen. Roman stood eyeing the ceiling, as if searching for answers, while Chase guzzled coffee. Neither brother realized she was there.

She was about to clear her throat and speak when Chase beat her to it.

“I still say make sure you can live with any decision you make.” He paused for a gulp of coffee. “Rick and I will understand if you don’t want to be the sacrificial lamb in Mom’s quest for grandchildren just because you lost the coin toss. You can still back out of the deal.”

Charlotte heard Chase’s words and stars danced before her eyes. Her mind quickly interpreted what she’d heard. Raina wanted grandchildren and Roman had promised to give them to her? Was that why the self-proclaimed wanderer and bachelor had suddenly started talking marriage? Love and marriage?

Oh, God.

Her stomach clenched in pain, but she reminded herself that eavesdroppers never heard anything correctly. She’d listened to part of a conversation only. But it didn’t look or sound good. Not for her.

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meant for her ears. But that didn’t mean she could ignore what she had heard. “What coin toss?” she asked.

The sound of her voice obviously startled both men, because Chase whirled around and Roman’s body jerked as if she’d shot at him from across the room. He turned toward where she stood in the doorway.

“How’d you get in?” Chase asked, with his usual flair for bluntness and no tact.

“I knocked, but no one answered. The door was wide open, so I walked in.” She tossed her bag onto the kitchen counter and strode past Chase to face Roman. “What coin toss?” she asked again pointedly.

With determination, fire, and . . . trepidation all locked in her throat.

“This is where I excuse myself,” Chase said.

“Coward,” Roman muttered.

“Somehow I don’t think he has anything to do with this.” Her heart pounded hard in her chest as Chase spilled his coffee into the sink and strode out of the kitchen, leaving her alone with Roman.

A man with secrets she was afraid to hear.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Roman walked toward Charlotte, grasped her elbow and led her to a small table in the corner of the Gazette kitchen area. White Formica, white chairs, furniture she knew came from Raina’s original set.

She shook her head at the bizarre way the mind sought to avoid painful truths.

“Sit,” he said.

“I have a feeling I’ll take this better standing.”

“And I’d rather know it wasn’t so easy for you to turn and walk out. Now sit.”

She folded her arms across her chest and lowered herself into the chair. She wasn’t in the mood for games or beating around the bush. “Please tell me you didn’t ask me to marry you because your mother wants grandchildren.”

His steely blue eyes met hers. “I didn’t ask you for that reason.”

Her heart beat rapidly in her chest. “Then what deal did you make with your brothers?”

“Come on, didn’t I just tell you last night how ridiculous brothers can be?” He reached out and grabbed for her hand. “Whatever went on between the three of us doesn’t matter.”

If she’d had any doubts about how serious this revelation was going to be, he’d just confirmed it. “It matters, or you wouldn’t be trying to avoid telling me.” One look into his serious expression and she knew she was right.

“I came home because Mom was rushed to the hospital with chest pains, remember?”

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She nodded.

“She told us that the doctors said she had to avoid stress on her heart. And she had one wish that we all knew we had to make come true.”

Charlotte swallowed hard. “A grandchild.”

“Right. But since none of us were in a serious relationship with a woman—”

“Or planned to ever marry,” she added.

He gave her a sheepish grin. “Since none of us were in the position to make it happen, we had to decide who would take that next step.”

“So you flipped a coin to see who would give Raina a grandchild, and you lost.” Bile rose in her throat.

“I know it sounds bad—”

“You don’t want to know what it sounds like,” she said bitterly. “What happened next? I threw myself at you and became the lucky candidate?”

“If you think back, I pulled away. I tried like hell to stay away. Because you were the one woman I couldn’t do it to.” He ran a frustrated hand through his hair.