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

“You couldn’t do what to me?”

“It’s going to get worse before it gets better,” he warned her.

“I don’t see how.”

“I said I’d never outright lie to you and I won’t start now. But you need to hear the whole truth before passing judgment.” He glanced downward, then spoke again without meeting her gaze. “I thought I could find a woman who wanted kids. Get married, get her pregnant, and head on back abroad. I figured I’d honor my commitments financially and come home whenever possible, but not change my lifestyle much at all.”

“Just like my father.” He was more like Russell than Charlotte had ever imagined Roman Chandler could be. A true wave of nausea rushed over her, but before she could catch her breath or speak, he rushed on.

“Yes, and because of that, I immediately ruled you out, no matter how strong the attraction. I couldn’t do that to you. Even then, I cared too much to hurt you. But I figured with any other woman, if we were both in agreement on things, no one would get hurt.”

“Another woman.” Charlotte could barely get the words past her lips. “Just like that. You could go from saying you care about me to accepting the idea of sleeping with another woman. So easily.” She blinked back tears.

“No.” He held onto her hand and squeezed tight. “No. I was a mess when I came home. I haven’t even thought all this through until now. But I was jet-lagged, worried about my mother, and I’d agreed to this life change all in one night. I wasn’t thinking clearly about anything except about not wanting to hurt you.

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So I pulled away.”

“How noble.”

He paused. Only the clock ticking loudly from the wall behind them broke the silence, but she wasn’t about to make it easier.

He cleared his throat. “But I couldn’t keep my distance. Every time we went near each other, things exploded. Not just sexually but emotionally. In here.” He pointed to his chest. “And I knew I couldn’t be with anyone else.” He raised his head and his stare locked on hers. “Not ever again.”

“Don’t.” She shook her head, finding it hard to speak, the pain lodged in her throat and chest, overwhelming. “Don’t say all the right things in an attempt to make this okay when it isn’t. It can’t be. So you chose me,” she said, trying to regain the thread of conversation without emotion getting in the way.

“Because the attraction was so strong. And what happened to that caring you spoke about?”

“It turned into love.”

Her breath caught in her throat. But as badly as she wanted to believe, she also was facing the truth.

“The perfect words to convince me to marry you and give your mother the grandchild she wants.”

“The words I’ve never said to anyone before. Words I wouldn’t say unless I meant them.” And he did.

But Roman knew she wouldn’t believe him. She’d heard him out; however her conclusions weren’t based on his emotions, but the cold, hard facts.

What irony, he thought. As a journalist, he lived and died by the facts. Now he wanted Charlotte to throw away those facts and invest her future happiness on the intangible. He wanted her to believe in him.

In his word. No matter that the facts pointed in the opposite direction.

She pulled her hand back and held her head in her hands. He waited, giving her time to think and regain her composure. When she glanced up, he didn’t like the cool look in her eyes or the taut expression on her face.

“Tell me something. Did you plan to leave me behind in Yorkshire Falls while you went back to your beloved job?”

He shook his head. “I don’t know what I planned except that I want like hell to make it work. I’ve had a job offer from the Washington Post that would keep me based in D.C. I thought I could go check it out—we could go check it out,” he said, inspired by the sudden idea. “And together we’d come up with a livable working arrangement.” His heart pounded in his chest as he realized just how much he wanted that.

The fear he’d experienced earlier over changing his lifestyle was gone, replaced by a new and much more credible fear—of losing Charlotte forever. At the thought, he broke into a cold sweat.

Sad green eyes met his. “A livable working arrangement,” she repeated. “In the name of love or in the name of the lost coin toss?”

He narrowed his gaze, hurt despite it all. “You shouldn’t have to ask.”

“Well, forgive me, but I do.” She leaned back and folded her hands in her lap.

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He leaned closer, getting into her personal space, inhaling her scent. He was irrationally angry at Charlotte for not trusting him, though he hadn’t done anything to earn her trust. He was also furious at himself and ridiculously aroused all at the same time.

“I’m going to say this once.” He’d already thought it through in his head when talking to Chase. “The coin toss led me to you. It was the catalyst for everything that’s happened since. But the only reason I’m here with you now is love.”

She blinked. A lone tear trickled down her face. On impulse, he caught it with the tip of his finger and tasted the salty water with his tongue. He’d tasted her pain. Now he wanted to make it go away. She was softening. He could feel it and he held his breath while he waited for her reply.

“How will I ever know?” she asked, taking him off guard. “How will I ever know if you’re with me because you want to be, or you’re with me because you promised your brothers you’d be the one who gave your mother a grandchild?” She shook her head. “This whole town knows Chandler family loyalty is strong. Chase is the prime example, and you’re following his lead.”

“I’m proud of my big brother. It’s not a bad lead to follow. Especially if it takes me in the right direction.” There wasn’t anything more he could say. He’d already told her he was only going to state his case once. Nothing he said now would change her mind unless she wanted to believe.

“Take a chance on me, Charlotte. Take a chance with me.” He held out his hand. His future stretched before him—would it be full or as empty as his palm was now?

His guts shook with real fear as he watched her clench her fists tight. She couldn’t even meet him halfway.

“I . . . I can’t. You want me to trust while I know damn well you Chandlers are confirmed bachelors.

None of you wanted commitment. You had to toss a coin to decide who’d have to give up his life for the family this time.” She rose to her feet. “And I can’t even claim to be a prize you won, but a penalty for losing everything you held dear.”

She’d put up walls he doubted he could breach. At least not now. He stood and grabbed her hand one last time. “I’m not your father.”

“From where I stand, I don’t see much difference.”

And that was the problem, he thought. She couldn’t see past her family’s troubled history. She was obviously afraid. Afraid of repeating her mother’s life, her mother’s mistakes. He’d damn Annie and Russell to hell and back, only he couldn’t blame them any longer. Charlotte was a grown woman capable of seeing the truth and making her own decisions.

The urge to pull her into his arms was strong, but he doubted it would do any good. “I never figured you for a coward.”

She narrowed her gaze and glared at him. “You’re an equal disappointment.” She pivoted and ran from the kitchen, leaving him behind.

“Son of a bitch.” Roman walked into the outer room and kicked the first garbage can he saw across the room. The heavy metal clunked across the floor and hit the wall with a dull bang.

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“I take it things didn’t go well.” Chase met him at the bottom of the steps that led to his upstairs office.

“That’s an understatement.” He let out a groan. “This isn’t the way it was supposed to be.”

Chase swung the door shut. “That’ll keep out any more stragglers. So whoever told you life would go easy? You’ve just been lucky for a while. But no more coasting, little brother. You’re going to have to work for this.” He turned and leaned against the doorframe. “If it’s what you want.”

Roman should want to get the hell out of this town and away from the pain and aggravation. From his mother’s heart condition to Charlotte’s broken heart. Unfortunately there was nowhere left to run. The emotions dredged up would follow him wherever he went. This trip back had taught him Yorkshire Falls wasn’t just a place to visit, it was home, with all the baggage that word entailed. All the baggage he’d been running from his entire life.

“You’re damn right it’s what I want. She’s what I want.” Yet after avoiding burden and responsibility for years, now that he was ready to shoulder all the ups and downs of a committed relationship, the woman he desired wanted nothing more to do with him.

“So what do you plan to do about it?”

He had no idea. “I do need to look into D.C.,” Roman told Chase, at the exact moment Rick let himself into the front office, keys dangling from his hand.

“What about D.C.?” Rick asked.

“Roman’s going to look into a desk job.” Chase’s tone held surprise and he pinched the bridge of his nose as he obviously digested the information.

“Don’t get carried away,” Roman muttered. “I’ve been offered a senior editor position at the Post. ”

“You’re leaving town?” Rick shoved his hands into his front pockets.

“He might as well. No one here’s going to miss him,” Chase said with a grin. He slapped Roman on the back.

“Shut the hell up.”

Rick laughed. “Charlotte problems? Then I guess she can’t vouch for your whereabouts last night?”

Roman’s head began a steady, dull throb. “Don’t tell me.”

His middle brother nodded. “Panty theft number six. So once again, I have to ask. Just where were you last night?”

Chase and Rick chuckled aloud, always enjoying a laugh at Roman’s expense. He didn’t answer, knew he didn’t need to. But despite the ribbing and laughter, Roman wasn’t fooled. Like him, neither of his brothers were thrilled to know they still had an unsolved crime spree in Yorkshire Falls.

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Charlotte left the Gazette at a run, slowed when she got winded, and began a slow walk back to town.

A twisting pain in her stomach made the pickup truck bumping down the road a welcome sight.

Charlotte stuck out her thumb and hitched her first ride ever. Fred Aames, the town’s only plumber, offered to drop her off at her doorstep. She was halfway back to her shop and away from Roman when she realized she hadn’t taken an ad in the paper. She’d just have to call Chase later. No way in hell was she going back to face the Chandler brothers and their stinking coin toss. She wondered if they were laughing about it, then shook her head.

Roman wouldn’t be laughing. He was out a candidate and would have to start over. Find another woman he could screw and leave behind, pregnant.

Her stomach churned and it took all her willpower not to ask Fred to pull over so she could puke in someone’s rhododendrons.

“So did you hear?” Fred asked. Before she could respond, he continued, obviously used to talking from beneath cabinets as he worked on plumbing, oblivious to the outside world. “Marge Sinclair had her panties stolen.”

Not again. She began a steady massage of her temples. “Marge? I just delivered those myself yesterday.”

He shrugged. “You know what they say. Here today, gone tomorrow.” He let out a laugh that was interrupted by his old pickup truck hitting a pothole and jarring her shoulder into the door. “I don’t put any stock in old man Whitehall’s comments about Roman Chandler, though.”

At the mention of Roman’s name, Charlotte’s stomach twisted in pain. Small-town life, she thought. She loved it, but sometimes it meant she couldn’t escape no matter how badly she wanted to. “No, I don’t suppose Roman Chandler would steal panties,” she said, holding up her end of conversation.

“Or, he’d steal panties if it were a prank, but he wouldn’t pilfer ’em the way the papers are saying.”

“Mmm.” Maybe, if she didn’t outright respond, Fred would catch on and change the subject.

“He’s got too much character.”

“He’s got character, all right,” she muttered. She’d rather not get into Roman’s character right now or she’d give Fred an earful that would quickly travel through the town’s grapevine. She didn’t want that any more than Roman would.

“He stood up for me back in high school. I’ll never forget it and I won’t let anyone ’round here either.

You can bet I’m telling everyone I meet Roman Chandler’s no thief.” He slammed on the brakes in front of her shop.

She rubbed the bruised skin on her shoulder and gathered her bag. Who could be stealing the underwear? She mentally ticked off the victims so far. Whitehall, Sinclair . . . all over fifty, she realized and wondered if Rick or anyone else on Yorkshire Falls’ police force had come to that same conclusion and whether it meant anything at all. Odd, Charlotte thought. To say the least.

“Did you say something?” he asked, rising in his seat.

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“I said I wonder if you realize that you’re a life saver. Thank you for driving me back here.”

“My pleasure.” He leaned over and placed a hand behind her seat. “There is a way you can repay me, though.”

“What would that be?” she asked warily.

“Move my Marianne up on your panty list.” His full cheeks colored a furious shade of red. “At least in time for our wedding night.”

She grinned and nodded her head. “I think that could be arranged.” Charlotte hopped out of the pickup before she could laugh out loud and embarrass the man further. “Thanks again, Fred.”

“You’re welcome. And when your customers come in discussing these thefts, remember to tell ’em Roman Chandler wouldn’t steal anything.”

Except her heart, she thought, sadly.

Fred drove off, leaving her standing on the sidewalk. She stared first at her business, then at the upstairs window leading to her apartment. Neither place beckoned to her right now. Since Roman had spent the night, her small apartment was no longer a safe haven to which she could escape. Her office smelled too vile for words, and in her shop, Beth’s chatty presence would have Charlotte revealing painful secrets in no time. And her mother’s house was off limits because Russell was home.

She felt like a displaced person with nowhere to go—until she realized there was one place she could curl up and be alone in peace. She stopped by the shop only long enough to tell Beth she was taking the day off, detoured into Norman’s for a sandwich and soda to go, before going up to her apartment, changing her clothes, and ducking out onto the fire-escape-cum-terrace, her treasured book, Glamorous Getaways, in hand.

Some people chose comfort food. Charlotte chose comfort books. One in particular. A breeze fluttered the pages and she turned to the one she studied most, the famousHOLLYWOOD sign. She sat back against the wall, legs out in front of her, book resting on her knees. She sighed and traced the letters she knew by heart, then propped her chin in her hands and stared at the glossy pages.

Ironic, that this same book that gave her peace also represented her greatest pain. Charlotte understood why. Glamorous Getaways brought her back to a simpler time. A time when she still believed in Prince Charmings and happily ever afters. A time when she thought her father would come home and sweep Charlotte and her mother off their feet and onto an airplane to Los Angeles. To join him and give her back the security she’d lost. He never had.

So this book should be unsettling, yet it soothed her in a way only innocent childhood beliefs could.

Charlotte didn’t delve deeper. Life was complicated enough. And the Chandler brothers’ coin toss had certainly mixed up her life and emotions in a way she’d never imagined possible.

Charlotte wasn’t into pity, nor did she believe she’d done anything to deserve this twist of fate. But, all things considered, she couldn’t say she was surprised. Psychiatrists had a field day with the notion that girls fell in love with men who reminded them of their fathers. A statement she’d once have disputed with a vengeance, but of which now she was living proof.

The Chandler brothers were many things: dedicated bachelors, devoted sons, and intensely loyal men.

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She knew Roman had never set out to hurt her. She believed he’d discounted her from his list of available women because of her family history. But she’d certainly simplified his life by falling into his baby-needing arms.

After finishing with his brothers, Roman locked himself in Chase’s office and got lost in what he did best.

Writing. He tuned out everything and everyone else and spent the late morning and better part of the afternoon typing up an article on small-town life. Slice-of-life articles weren’t his thing, but somehow, this time the words poured from his gut.

Big cities, bigger stories. Large continents, even larger human interest stories. But at the heart of each of those broader pieces, Roman realized he could find the essence of people—their ties to each other, their community, their land. Just like the people of Yorkshire Falls.

When Roman wrote a news piece—whether he was driving home the inequities of poverty or famine, the brutal truth of ethnic cleansing in foreign lands, or the need for a variance or new zoning laws so someone with degenerative arthritis could own a pet and walk him without pain—the stories centered on people and what they needed and did to survive.

As a journalist and as a man, the objective view had been easier for Roman, and so he’d chosen to tackle the outside world while putting up blocks against his feelings for those people and stories back home. Because home represented Roman’s greatest fear—pain, rejection, loss. The kind he’d seen his mother experience.

The kind he was experiencing now because of what he’d done to Charlotte. This story was a catharsis.

He’d never sell it, but he’d always have it as proof of what his mother had told him: If you haven’t loved, you haven’t lived. For all his extensive traveling and experience, Roman realized, he hadn’t really lived.

Now, how to convince Charlotte?

After trying the shop, he’d stopped in Norman’s, who said he’d packed a sandwich and sent Charlotte on her way. Without trying her apartment first, gut instinct told Roman exactly where to find her. He never discounted his gut.

It was that same gut feeling that had insisted should Charlotte find out about the coin toss, he’d be in deep shit, and he’d been right. Same gut that now let him know she’d never get out of his system completely. He knew that was correct as well. He rounded the corner that led to the back of her apartment.

The sun shone low in the sky. In broad daylight, he knew he was risking being seen lurking around her apartment. He didn’t care. He wanted to make sure she was okay, though he knew better than to try to talk reason with her so soon.

He stood in the shadow of the trees and looked up at her sitting on the fire escape. Alone by choice, not answering her doorbell or phone. He shook his head, hating that he’d caused her pain. Stray tendrils of hair escaped the confinement of her ponytail and blew around her pale face. She was reverently touching the pages of a book. He figured it was one of her damn travelogues. She was a dreamer and longed for things she thought were out of reach. Travel. Excitement. Her father. And Roman.

She had the nerve to start a cosmopolitan business in a sleepy upstate town, but lacked the guts to take a gamble on life. On him.

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What if reality is a disappointment? she’d asked when he’d questioned her about her books, her dreams. He hadn’t answered her then, so certain he could make her fantasies come true. But a weekend getaway was a far cry from fulfilling a lifelong dream. He’d been sure he could do both.

Right now he wanted to kick himself in the ass for being so damn arrogant, so sure of himself, when Charlotte’s feelings were at stake. Thanks to her father, Charlotte expected life to let her down. Instead of proving her wrong, Roman had fulfilled every negative expectation she’d had of men.

He muttered a curse. One last glance, and he headed on home.

Raina gathered her purse and waited as Dr. Leslie Gaines jotted notes in her chart. With Raina seeing Eric outside of work, she had begun using Dr. Gaines as her primary doctor. She had two reasons. She didn’t want to put Eric in the uncomfortable position of lying to her sons, and she wanted some mystery to remain for them as a couple. Silly as it sounded. If he listened to her chest with a stethoscope and viewed her as a patient through his doctor’s eyes, how could he look at her as a man would a woman?

“So your cardiogram is fine, no change.” Dr. Gaines flipped the manila folder closed. “You’re healthy, Raina. All I can say is keep up the exercise and watch the rich food.”

“Yes, Doctor.” But Raina knew the words were easy. Keeping up the charade of sickness with her boys was not. Though her little fraud , as she’d begun to think about it, still gave her fits of guilt, she believed in her cause. She wanted her boys settled and happy with families of their own.

Dr. Gaines smiled. “I wish all my patients were so cooperative.”

Raina merely nodded in return. “Thanks for everything.” She left the office without seeing Eric. She preferred to save that treat for later, when the subject of her “illness” couldn’t cause an argument.

With Roman spending the day at the paper with Chase, and Rick on duty, Raina headed straight for home. She changed into sweatpants for a quick treadmill run. Only a twenty-year-old or Superman could keep up this routine without getting caught. As she began her brisk walk, she kept one eye trained out the basement window onto the driveway in case her sons came home early. She’d flop onto the couch quickly if they did.

Twenty minutes later, she stepped off the treadmill and took a quick shower, the relief at not being caught overwhelming. By the time she finished and had a quick bite to eat, she was ready to tackle her primary concern.

Roman’s love life.

The road to romance had taken a dangerous detour with Roman’s sour mood and sudden refusal to discuss anything related to Charlotte. He’d deal with his own problems, he said. But as his mother, Raina had changed his diapers, dried the tears he’d been embarrassed to shed, and she knew his every expression. No matter how hard he tried to hide his feelings, she read them anyway. And her baby boy was hurting.

This problem with Charlotte, whatever it was, couldn’t be anything more than a bump on the road. No romance ran smooth, after all. Look at the good she’d done her youngest son so far; her “illness” had Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

brought Roman home and had kept him in Yorkshire Falls, where he’d more than reacquainted himself with his first love. A little nudge, and they’d be back together in no time.

Hoping nobody noticed she’d been in town twice today and reported back to the boys, Raina walked into Charlotte’s Attic later that afternoon. Thank goodness the shop appeared empty. “Hello?”

“Be right there,” Charlotte’s lilting voice called from the back of the store.

“Take your time.” Raina walked over to the lingerie section and fingered a beautiful, pure silk Natori gown with a matching robe.

“It suits you,” Charlotte said, coming up behind her. “The light ivory will bring out the green in your eyes.”

Raina turned and faced the raven-haired beauty, who, like her son, had pain lurking in the depths of her soul. “I’m not sure I belong in something so white.”

Charlotte smiled. “Light, not white. It’s more of an antiquey color. Nothing wrong with indulging.

There’s no significance attached to hue. That’s an old-fashioned premise, I assure you.” She folded her arms across the metal rack. “I can see how much you want this. You’re still fingering the lace edge.”

“Caught in the act.” Raina laughed. “Okay, you can package this up for me.” She wondered if it would sit in the drawer or if—

“I’m glad to see you feeling well enough to be out and about.”

Charlotte cut off Raina’s thoughts, and not a moment too soon. Raina was too afraid to even think about such intimacies. It had been so long since anyone had seen her that way.

“I know I’m supposed to take it easy, but I needed to come here.” For reasons Raina hadn’t yet divulged. “Besides, isn’t shopping supposed to be a stress reliever?”

Charlotte laughed. “If you say so.” She perused the rack, flipping through the long silken garments. The young woman remembered each customer’s size without having to ask again, something that impressed Raina from the first. Every customer who entered the shop received personal treatment from Charlotte or Beth, and each customer left with the feeling that she was the most important customer Charlotte had.

Her business was thriving and she’d earned the professional success.

She deserved private success as well. Raina couldn’t stand to see two people so obviously in love let themselves drift apart. As Charlotte unhooked the hanger and walked over to the register, Raina hadn’t yet decided whether or how to broach the subject.

“Anything else I can get you?” Charlotte asked with a strained smile.

Talk about an opening! Raina shook her head. Surely this was a sign that questioning Charlotte was okay. Roman wouldn’t hold it against her. Not once he was happily settled with Charlotte by his side.

Raina leaned forward on the counter. “You can tell me why you look so unhappy.”

“I don’t know what you mean.” Charlotte immediately began fussing with the lingerie, ripping off the bottom of the price tag and wrapping the luxurious silk in light pink tissue paper.

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Raina placed a stilling hand over hers. “I think you do. Roman’s as miserable as you.”

“Not possible.” Charlotte began tabulating the bill. “One hundred and fifteen dollars and ninety-three cents.”

Whipping her credit card out of her purse, Raina placed it on the counter. “I assure you it’s very possible. I know my son. He’s hurting.”

Charlotte slid the card through the register and went through the charging process. “I’m not certain there’s anything you can do to make it better for him or me. You should leave it alone.”

Raina swallowed hard. Something in Charlotte’s tone warned Raina to stop now, but she couldn’t. “I can’t.”

For the first time since Raina had brought up the subject, Charlotte met her gaze. “Because you feel responsible?” the younger woman asked softly. With no malice, but with the certainty of someone who knew everything.

Even if Raina did not. Her heart began a thready beat, one caused by apprehension and anxiety. “Why should I feel responsible?” she asked warily.

“You really don’t know, do you?” Charlotte shook her head, abandoned her rigid stance, and walked around to where Raina stood. “Come sit.”

Raina followed into Charlotte’s office, wondering how this conversation had become about her and not Roman and Charlotte’s romance.

“When you got sick, your sons were worried.”

Raina lowered her eyes, unable to meet Charlotte’s sincere and concerned gaze, that darn guilt resurfacing once more.

“And together they decided to give you your fondest, dearest wish.”

“Which is?” Raina asked, unsure what Charlotte meant.

“Grandchildren, of course.”

“Oh!” Raina expressed a sigh of relief at Charlotte’s obviously mistaken belief. She waved her hand in the air. “No way would my boys want to give me grandchildren, no matter how much I may wish otherwise.”

“You’re right. They didn’t want to. But they felt they had to.” Charlotte raised her eyes and met Raina’s gaze. “They flipped a coin. Loser would ante up—get married and have a baby. Roman lost.” She shrugged, but the pain floated in the air, hovering between them, obvious and tangible. “I was the nearest candidate.”

Outrage filled Raina, but her heart clenched, twisting with more than guilt. She’d meant to coerce her boys into their own happily ever after, but she’d never meant for people to get hurt in the process.

“Charlotte, you don’t believe Roman chose you because he lost a coin toss. You two had a history, after all.”

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Charlotte glanced away. “Roman admitted to losing the coin toss. The rest is painfully obvious.”

“But he didn’t choose you because you were the nearest candidate!” Raina addressed Charlotte’s hurt first. She’d deal with the coin toss and her role in it later. Oh, yes, she would deal with her boys.

She’d lived under the illusion that she and John had set the example of a happy family and a good, loving marriage. Obviously not, but what in heaven’s name had happened to convince her boys otherwise?

True, Rick had that painful fiasco caused by his good-natured attempt to help, but the right woman would break through the walls he’d put up since. And Roman—Raina remembered her youngest saying that he thought she’d given up on life. Had that been enough to scare him off marriage forever?

“I really don’t know why Roman chose me, now, do I?” Charlotte’s voice shook with uncertainty. A good omen, Raina hoped.

“I think you know more than you want to admit.” Raina leaned forward and squeezed Charlotte’s hand.

“I realize I’m probably the last person you want advice from, but please let me say one thing.”

Charlotte inclined her head. “I don’t blame you, Raina.”

Perhaps the young woman should. Maybe then she and Roman wouldn’t be miserable. “If you’ve found true love, don’t let anything stand in your way. One day, just twenty-four hours, could be one day lost in a lifetime that’s way too short.”

Raina thought she heard a strangled sound come from Charlotte, and she rose quickly, not wanting to intrude a minute longer. Besides, she needed to be alone to deal with herself and decide what she intended to do about the pain and havoc she hadn’t meant to cause.

“Take care.” Leaving Charlotte sitting in silence, Raina walked out. She exited the store and stepped into the sunshine, feeling anything but warm and happy. She was at a complete loss, not knowing how to fix things.

Considering what a disaster her great plan had been so far, she was probably better off staying out of everyone’s lives and concentrating on living her own. Eric had been right all along, but he wouldn’t be pleased to know Raina’s enlightenment had come at everyone else’s expense.

Still, as much as she’d like to withdraw and take the hands-off route, she and her sons had some serious business to discuss. She sighed. What happened to Roman and Charlotte after that was anyone’s guess.

Roman pounded nails into the garage shelving. If he was going to stick around, he might as well make himself useful. For the most part, Chase and Rick handled the upkeep on the house, but when he was home, Roman liked to do his share. And right now, the ability to pound a hammer was a damn good way to release frustration.

Charlotte hadn’t called. Hadn’t returned his calls, to be accurate. At this point he wasn’t sure the distinction mattered.

He raised the hammer and swung at the same moment his mother’s shrill voice reached his ears. “Front and center, Roman.”

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The hammer smacked his fingers dead-on. “Son of a bitch.” He stalked out of the garage, shaking his hand to ease the throbbing pain. He met his mother on the driveway, where she was pacing back and forth. “What’s wrong?” he asked.

“Everything. And as much as I blame myself, I still need answers.”

He wiped his arm across his sweaty forehead. “I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about, but you look upset and it can’t be good for your heart.”

“Forget my heart. It’s yours I’m worried about. A coin toss? Loser gets married and has children? What in heaven’s name did your father and I do wrong that turned you boys against marriage?” His mother’s hazel eyes filled with moisture.

“Dammit, Mom, don’t cry.” He was a sucker for her tears. Always had been, which he thought now was a partial answer to her question. “Who told you?” He put an arm around her and led her to the patio chairs out back.

She narrowed her gaze. “That’s not the point, is it? Now answer me.”

“I don’t want you to end up back in the hospital. That’s the point.”

“It won’t happen. Now talk.”

He let out a groan but noticed she seemed stronger than she’d been since his arrival back home.

“The coin toss, Roman. I’m waiting,” she said when he didn’t respond fast enough for her. She tapped one foot against the patio.

He shrugged. “What can I say? It seemed like the best solution at the time.”

“Idiots. I raised idiots.” She rolled her eyes heavenwards. “Nix that. I just raised real men.”

She was right. He was a typical man, and as a proud, card-carrying member of the species, he wasn’t comfortable discussing his feelings or emotions. But he owed it to the woman who raised him the best she could on her own to explain. He had a hunch he’d have to do the same with Charlotte—if he wanted a second chance.

And he did.

“You and I started talking about this the other day.” Roman leaned forward in his seat. “I was eleven when Dad died. And watching you in so much pain, well, I realized this trip home, it made me want to withdraw from anything that close to me. Being a journalist, by nature of the job, let me remain detached.

I couldn’t be detached here at home. Not with you and not with Charlotte.”

Raina expelled some of the obvious anger, fears, and frustration with one long breath. “I’m sorry. For everything.”

“You can’t hold yourself responsible for fate. Or someone else’s reaction to it.”

She met his gaze. “You really don’t understand.”

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“I do. And I love you for your concern, but don’t stress over it.” He rose. “If you do, I’ll report straight back to your doctor.” Eric or his associate would give his mother a good talking-to if she risked her health in any way.

Roman narrowed his gaze and took a good look at his mother. Dark rings circled her eyes, little makeup coated her cheeks. She’d put less time into her appearance. Because she tired more easily? he wondered. Worry about him and Charlotte couldn’t help the situation and he tried to set her mind at ease. “You’ve done your job incredibly well. Chase, Rick, and I can take care of ourselves. I promise.”

He brushed a kiss over her cheek.

She stood and walked along with him back to the garage. “I love you, son.”

“Same here, Mom. You’ve got a good heart and—”

“Roman, speaking of my heart . . .”

He shook his head. “No more talk,” he said in a drill-sergeant, no-nonsense tone. “I want you upstairs and resting. Draw the shades and take a nap. Watch Oprah. Something, anything as long as you’re off your feet and not overthinking about your sons.”

“Is it me or did you put a fast end to this conversation about your stupid coin toss?”

He laughed. “Never could put one over on you, but no, I’m not trying to distract you, just keep you healthy. I answered your question about why we got into the coin toss. Now I’ll tell you another truth that’ll help you sleep well. I’m grateful for it. I no longer look at marriage as punishment. Not to the right woman, anyway.” A woman who wanted nothing to do with him, but, Roman decided, it was time he forced the issue.

His mother’s face lit up, her eyes sparkling and green. “I knew something had changed since you got home. But what about your recent . . . how do I say this delicately? Your bad mood?”

“I’ll solve my problems, you take a nap.”

She scowled at him. “Just make sure you fix things with Charlotte.”

“I never said—”

She patted his cheek as she so often did when he was a child. “You didn’t have to say. Mothers know these things.”

He rolled his eyes and pointed toward the house. “Into bed.”

She saluted and walked inside. He stared after her, thinking of all the advice she’d given him through the years and of the happy marriage she’d shared with his father. He didn’t blame her for wanting the same for her sons. With hindsight, like his mother, he couldn’t believe he, Rick, and Chase had stooped to tossing a coin to decide their fate.

Roman debated, wondering if he should try to explain to Charlotte one more time, but decided against it.

She wasn’t willing to discuss things again and she had good reason. All he could do in conversation was reiterate the past. And the fact that he had no plan in mind for the future.

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The next time he faced Charlotte, he had to possess proof of his feelings and intentions. Only then could he lay his heart in her hands and dare her to walk away.

He grabbed the portable phone he’d left in the garage and dialed his brothers. Ten minutes later, they gathered back in the garage where this whole nightmare had begun. Roman started by explaining the situation up to and including the extent of their mother’s knowledge about their agreement.

“Now that you’re up to speed, you two need to look out for Mom. Make sure she gets rest and doesn’t stay up trying to figure out ways to fix my life. I can do that myself.”

“How?” Chase folded his arms across his chest.

“By going to D.C.” He needed to prove to Charlotte he could handle settling down. He’d come back with a steady job and a plan of action. One that would make them both happy.

He wouldn’t be giving up the news or his passion for imparting the truth to the unsuspecting world. He’d just be changing which news he covered and the place from which he covered it. After the time he’d just spent in Yorkshire Falls with his family, including the people of his hometown, Roman realized not only could he handle settling down, he wanted to.

“Well?” he asked in the face of stunned silence. “No wisecracks?”

Rick shrugged. “We wish you well.”

“You can do better than that.”

“I joke about a lot of things, but not when so much is at stake. This is huge for you, Roman. I wish you the best.”

Rick held out his hand and Roman took it, pulling him into a brotherly hug. “You can do me one favor.

Keep an eye on Charlotte while I’m gone.”

“Now, that’s no hardship.” Rick smacked him on the back. He grinned, reverting to his old teasing self.

Roman narrowed his gaze. “Just keep your goddamn hands to yourself,” he said for the sake of brotherly argument. Not because he worried about Rick making a move on his woman. Having calmed down a bit, he knew he trusted his brothers with his life—and that included Charlotte.

“He’s possessive,” Rick said, hands folded across his chest.

Chase snickered.

Roman groaned. “Just don’t screw this up. Watch out for her until I get back. I have to go do laundry and then pack.” Roman started for the short flight of wooden stairs that led to the house.

“What makes this one so special?” Rick called out.

“Other than the fact that she’s his alibi?” Chase’s laugh followed him to the door.

Roman shook his head. He grabbed for the doorknob, then turned back, “I can’t wait for the day when Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

the joke’s on the two of you.”

Charlotte ran into her apartment and dashed for the phone. She’d heard it ring from the hallway, her arms filled with dry cleaning, and by the time she’d found her keys and made it inside, whoever was there had hung up without leaving a message.

She dropped her cleaning onto the couch. “Let’s see if anyone called before that.” Her stomach clenched in tight knots as she prayed neither her father nor Roman had chosen to call. She couldn’t avoid both men forever, but until she understood what she needed out of life, she was giving avoidance her best shot.

She hit the play button and listened to the first and only message. “Hi, Charlotte. It’s me.” Roman’s voice hit her like a punch in the stomach, sucking all the air out of her lungs. She lowered herself into the nearest chair.

“I just called to say . . .”

Silence followed, and she held her breath, waiting for him to continue. Wanting to hear she didn’t know what.

“I called to say good-bye.”

The hurt overflowed in her veins, seeping into every part of her being. She waited for him to say more, but all that followed was the click of being disconnected. She sat in mute silence, the lump in her throat huge, the squeezing sensation that brought a pain to her chest intense.

So that was it. He’d taken off again for parts unknown, just as she’d always known he would.

Her insides churned and she thought she might be sick. But why? Why should she be upset Roman had followed the pattern he’d set? The one she’d expected? Unable to stand the stifling apartment and questions that dogged her, she grabbed her keys and ran out the door without looking back.

CHAPTER TWELVE

Charlotte walked into the general store at sevenA .M, the same time Herb Cooper opened the doors.

“Third time this week you’re here this early. New schedule?” he asked.

She smiled. “You could say that.” A week after Roman’s departure, she was amazed at the amount of avoidance a creative person could manage. No one else shopped this early and she found she could get in and out without having to make small talk with anyone other than Herb or Roxanne, his wife.

“Well, the fresh bread’s not even unpacked yet, but I’ll grab you a loaf and have it waiting at the register for when you’re ready to check out.”

“Thanks, Herb.”

“Just doing my job. You keep the womenfolk happy and us men in town decided we’d best keep you Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

happy too.”

Charlotte laughed. “I wouldn’t turn down fresh bread, but I think you’re overestimating my importance around here.”

The older man turned the color of his tomatoes in the corner. “No, ma’am. You are definitely keeping the women happy. It’s that panty thief that’s driving ’em insane. The women who had theirs pilfered can’t replace them fast enough and the younger ones hope that Chandler boy will wake them out of their sleep.”

Charlotte lifted her gaze skyward. So much for avoidance.

“Living fairy tales, I tell you. A man like Roman Chandler has more important things to do than steal panties. But try telling that to the women.” He shook his head, just as the telephone rang, interrupting him.

“Well, least with him gone, we’ve had some quiet. Whoever is stealing those panties knows he’s got no alibi now, so it’s been quiet.” He reached for the phone. “General store. What can I do for you?”

Charlotte escaped into the aisles while she had the chance and breathed a sigh of relief. In the seven days Roman had been gone, she had developed an odd sort of respect for her mother’s ability to stay disconnected from life in a small town. It wasn’t easy.

Aside from the general chit-chat with neighbors, everyone in Charlotte’s life wanted something from her.

Beth wanted to know what was wrong, why Roman had left so suddenly. Her mother wanted to know when she’d come for dinner with her family. Rick wanted an updated list of customers and any hunches she had, and those customers wanted the panties they’d ordered.

Since Beth was running the shop, Charlotte was able to spend her days crocheting. Another word for avoiding, she admitted, but at least her customers would be satisfied, even if the rest of the people pulling pieces from her were not.

The only person not asking a damn thing from her was the one she’d turned away. Her throat constricted and hurt from the ever-present lump that had settled there. She blamed herself for falling into Roman’s trap as much as she blamed him for unintentionally drawing her in. Though she knew he’d never meant to hurt her, the fact remained, he had.

She still had the taped message he’d left on her answering machine. Not that she intended to torture herself by replaying it, and she refused to analyze why she hadn’t just let the next call tape over his seductive voice.

Half an hour later, she’d returned to her apartment to unpack the groceries and straighten up before going to work. She’d spent the last week hiding from the world. Charlotte figured everyone with a broken heart was entitled to healing time. Unlike her mother, she didn’t plan to make it a lifetime.

She looked out the window into the bright sunshine. It was time to get back into her routine, starting with tonight’s baseball game.

When the game ended, the Rockets had continued their winning streak, and though she’d shown her face, Charlotte had continued parental avoidance. She was ready for many things. Dealing with her father wasn’t one of them. He was too much a reminder of all that hurt, past and present. She had no doubt if Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

she stalled long enough, he’d leave too. And leave was something she had to do, before Russell could attempt to corner her again. As he’d done in the general store and outside her apartment. She’d ducked out on him those times as well.

“Here. Toss this for me, will you?” Charlotte handed Beth her soda can. “And don’t forget to recycle.”

She hopped down off the bottom bleacher. “I’ll see you at work tomorrow.”

“Coward,” Beth called after her.

Charlotte kept walking, though she couldn’t deny her friend’s words cut deep, partly because Roman had called her the same thing, and mostly because Charlotte knew Beth was right. Eventually she would have to face everything she was avoiding, including her parents. She just wasn’t ready.

Halfway back to town, she decided to cut across the Sullivan Subdivision, through George and Rose Carlton’s yard. The Carltons were still at the baseball game, as were most of the other townspeople, so when Charlotte heard a rustle near the front hedges, she turned around, surprised.

“Hello?” she called out.

A lanky man in forest-green pants, button-down top, and a baseball cap was skulking around the bushes. When he heard her voice, he ducked down, but not before she caught a glimpse of his face.

“Samson?” Her surprise turned to complete shock. She ran up the bluestone walk. “Get out of the bushes now.” She pulled on the green shirt that blended with the foliage. “Just what do you think you’re doing?”

He rose to his full height. “You don’t belong here.”

“Neither do you. What’s going on?” Her gaze dropped to his gloved right hand, full with what looked like her panties in his fist. The crocheted panties she sold, Charlotte mentally amended. Of all the bizarre things . . . “Hand them over.” She extended her hand.

He muttered a growl. “None of your concern.”

“If you were just cross-dressing and not theft, it wouldn’t be my concern. But since you’re stealing, I’m making it my business. And I intend to find out why. But first, you get inside and put those panties back.”

“No.” He folded his arms like a sulking child.

“The Carltons will be back from the game any minute, so you’re going to return those and then we’re going to talk.” She glanced toward the front door, which she assumed had been left unlocked.

This darn town was still living in an age when everyone trusted everyone else. Even with this panty thief business, no one took the threat seriously enough to lock their doors. In George and Rose’s case, they probably figured they had Mick as lookout, though what the aging, slightly arthritic beagle could do to an intruder was beyond her.

Speaking of the dog . . . “Where’s Mick?” she asked warily.

“Eatin’ steak.”

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She let out a sharp exhale.

Samson’s dark eyes clouded. “What was that for? You don’t think I’d hurt him, do you?”

Charlotte shook her head. No, she didn’t, and not just because no one had been harmed during the course of the other robberies. In her heart, she trusted the gruff older man and thought even this strange turn of events would have some kind of explanation she could understand. She hoped.

Before she could ponder what his motives were, the beagle in question came barging out of his new doggie door, baying and circling around Sam. Charlotte sighed. “You don’t have any more steak in your pockets, do you?”

He shook his head, “Wasn’t supposed to need any. If you hadn’t stopped me, I’d be long gone by now.”

She rolled her eyes and leaned down, hefting the heavy dog into her arms. She didn’t want him to decide to attack if he caught Samson inside, not that Mick had a surly reputation. That distinction belonged to Samson.

Mick wasn’t only heavy, he was wet as he slobbered and drooled on her arm. “I’ve got him, now get inside and put those panties back before I get a hernia,” she hissed. “I’ll stand guard.”

Samson glared at her, but thankfully he turned, stomped up the steps, and let himself back into the house. Gloved hands, no fingerprints, she realized now, and shook her head. She grunted and shifted position. Mick’s front paws touched her shoulder, his warm, chubby body aligned against her. “Care to dance?” she asked him.

He licked her cheek in response.

“Oh, brother. Well, at least you know how to kiss up to a lady.” She twirled around the front hedges until she realized exactly how mentally disturbed she looked, then ducked behind a tree. If she was ever asked about this, she’d have to cop to a sudden love for dogs and buy herself a pet. All in the name of cover-up.

Thankfully Samson returned before the Carltons got home and she had to explain why she was holding their two-ton dog in her arms. She let Mick down and he bounded back inside. She was quickly forgotten. “Typical male,” she muttered.

Without another word, she grabbed Samson’s arm and dragged him with her across the rest of the yard and down the street, waiting until they were out of the subdivision before starting in on him. “Talk to me, and don’t give me any of that it’s none of your business crap. Why are you stealing women’s panties?

Panties I made?” she asked him.

“Can’t a man have privacy?”

“Unless you want me to head straight on over to Rick Chandler, you’d better start explaining.” They continued their walk to town, but he remained stubbornly silent. Frustrated, Charlotte stopped in her tracks and yanked on his sleeve. “Samson, there’s nothing good that’s going to come of this if you force my hand. Rick will have to prosecute and they’ll probably throw you in jail for a little while, or have you tested by a psychiatrist, and then—”

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“I did it for you.”

That was the last answer she’d been expecting. “I don’t understand.”

“I always liked you.” He looked down and kicked at the ground with his worn sneaker. “You were such a friendly kid. All the others ran from me, but you always waved hello. Just like your mother. Then when you moved back after your time away, you didn’t change none. You still made time for a strange man.”

“So you stole the panties because . . . ?”

“I wanted your business to work so’s you’d stay in town.”

Charlotte was oddly touched by his words. He cared, even if he had a strange way of showing it. “What made you think panty raids would help my business?”

“At first I thought it’d just give you some attention.”

“I think my advertising has done the same thing.”

“Not on as grand a scale. And I only planned one theft. The next morning I found out that the youngest Chandler boy came home the same night. I remembered his panty raid.” Samson tapped his head.

“Picture-perfect memory.”

“You mean photographic memory?” Charlotte asked.

“I mean I don’t forget a thing. And when I realized everyone else remembered it too and I saw the lines outside your shop, I knew I’d done good. Plus, with the Chandler boy in town, I knew I had a good cover going.”

Her mind boggled at the way the older man’s brain worked. “Weren’t you worried about Roman getting blamed for your . . . uh, crime?”

He waved away her concerns. “Couldn’t see Officer Rick arresting his own brother without evidence, and since Roman wasn’t guilty, there weren’t evidence to find.” He waved his gloved hands in the air and grinned, obviously pleased with himself.

She wasn’t. “Shame on you for setting yourself up like that! I don’t care how harmless the theft or how good your motives, you shouldn’t have done something illegal at all. Especially not for me.”

“That’s gratitude for you,” he muttered, back to his moody self.

She eyed him carefully. “Roman’s been gone a week. Care to tell me what tonight’s theft was about?”

He shook his head from side to side and exhaled an exaggerated sigh, as if to say she was dense and he knew it. “I got the boy into trouble. Had to get him out, didn’t I?”

“You took this last risk for Roman?” Was there no end to the surprises Samson had inside him?

“Haven’t you been listening?” he asked, sounding annoyed. “I did this for you. Because you smile at me when no one else does, except your mother the few times she comes to town. And because you give me errands for money, instead of charity. How else do you think I knew who bought the darn panties? I Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

mailed ’em for you, didn’t I? Besides, Ms. Chandler’s good to me, too.”

“Raina?”

Samson nodded, looking at the pavement once more. “Pretty lady. Reminds me of someone I used to . . . never mind. But the two of you seem to care about Roman. What kind of name is that anyway?”

“No more unusual than yours. Now stop stalling.”

“Women are so damned impatient.” He sighed. “Isn’t it obvious? With Roman out of town, one more pair of panties gone would clear his name.”

She blinked. “That’s very commendable of you. I think.” Charlotte didn’t know what to make of this tale. Though things made more sense now. She understood how the thief knew which houses to target—Samson did many of her mailings and hung around town, listening without being noticed. “Just tell me you’re through. No more stealing.”

“ ’Course not. It’s getting too hard, with busybodies like you snooping around. Now, if you’re finished with the third degree, I have some business to take care of back home.”

She didn’t question what. As he said, his life was none of her concern. “I’m finished. But I want you to know . . .” How did she thank a man for committing unwanted panty thefts on her behalf? “I appreciate the thought behind your acts.” She nodded. That sounded right.

“Then you can do me a favor in return.”

His words held echoes of Fred Aames. “I’m not making you your own pair of panties,” she said. She meant she wasn’t making him a pair for the girlfriend she doubted he had, but thought better of correcting herself.

“ ’Course not. I ain’t no sissy. Besides, I got six other pairs I don’t know what to do with.”

She sucked in a breath. “I suggest you burn them,” she said through clenched teeth.

“There’s still that favor I want.”

Was he moving on to extortion now? She figured he wanted her promise of silence about his escapade tonight and all the other nights he’d broken into homes to steal panties. “I won’t turn you in to the police,”

she said, taking another stab at what was on his mind. Though she couldn’t leave Rick with an unsolved crime and hadn’t a clue what she was going to tell him.

Samson waved his hand in the air as if he couldn’t care less. She knew better. “You realize people don’t pay much attention to me unless they’re running the other way or ignoring me. I can sit beside someone and hear all ’bout their sex life because they think I’m too dumb to know what they’re talking about.”

She held out her hand, intending to offer comfort, but he scowled and she immediately pulled back.

“But I hear other things too. And I heard your mother and father talking the other day. They’re hurting.”

She stiffened her shoulders. “This time it’s none of your concern,” she said, turning his words back on him.

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“True enough. But seeing as how you always give an old man you barely know a break . . . I think you oughta do the same thing for your folks.” He started across the street, in the opposite direction of town, toward the ramshackle shack where he lived. Without warning, he pivoted back to her. “You know, some of us don’t have parents or kin.” He turned back and resumed his lonely walk home.

“Sam?” Charlotte called after him.

He didn’t turn around again.

“You’ve got friends,” she said loudly.

He continued his journey home and didn’t acknowledge her words, though she knew he’d heard them.

He left her alone, touched as well as confused by his actions. She already knew she’d have to deal with Russell, as much as she didn’t look forward to that day. But right now it was Samson who concerned her. What in the world would she tell Rick?

A laundry list of words collided in her brain: obstruction of justice and accessory to a crime being just some of them. But she couldn’t bring herself to turn Samson in. And her role as lookout tonight had nothing to do with it. His crimes were harmless, the thefts were over. She believed him when he said tonight was the end. She owed the police department some kind of explanation that would let them close the case, yet she needed to keep Samson safe.

Charlotte bit down on her lower lip. The sun had set and night had fallen around her. The evening chilled her to the core and she started a brisk walk for home, all the while wondering what to do.

She wished Roman were here to advise her. The thought rose unbidden, without warning. Roman, the journalist, the advocate for truth. Yet were he here, she’d trust him with her secret, knowing he wouldn’t let Samson get hurt either. Her heart began a rapid pounding in her chest.

How could she trust him with such a huge secret and not believe the words he’d uttered? I love you.

I’ve never said that to anyone else. I don’t want to lose you. And then there was the pained look in his eyes as he’d revealed the truth—at a time when he could have covered or lied in order to keep her in the dark. To ensure marriage and children and the family promise.

He hadn’t lied. He’d revealed all about the coin toss. Yet he’d had to know he risked losing her in the process.

What was she willing to risk in return?

The morning sun shone in the storefront window as Charlotte ran through her to-do list. “So remember to put out a dish of these chocolate eggs next week,” she said to Beth, checking off item six on her list.

“But keep them at the register. We don’t want chocolate ruining the merchandise.” She chewed on the cap of her pen. “What do you think of renting an Easter Bunny costume from the place over in Harrington for Easter week? Maybe we can get all the shop owners on First to split the cost?”

Charlotte glanced at Beth, who stared at the storefront window, oblivious to everything, including Charlotte’s brilliant ideas. “I’ve got a better idea. We’ll undress you and send you naked down First with Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

a sign on your back reading, COME SHOP ATCHARLOTTE’S. Sound good to you?”

“Mmm-hmm.”

Charlotte grinned and slammed her notebook down on the desk loudly enough to get a rise out of her friend. Beth jumped in her seat. “What was that for?”

“No reason. By the way, you can start streaking down First around noon. That’s prime traffic time.”

Beth turned a bright shade of red. “Guess I was distracted.”

Charlotte laughed. “Guess so. Care to share why?”

With a not-so-nonchalant gesture, Beth pointed to the window where an unfamiliar chestnut-haired man stood out front talking to Norman.

“Who is he?”

“A carpenter. Sort of a do-it-all kind of guy. He moved here from Albany. Joined the firemen too.” Beth sighed and absently lifted up a wrapped chocolate egg. “Isn’t he gorgeous?” Beth asked.

In Charlotte’s eyes he couldn’t compare to a certain dark-haired reporter, but for Beth, Charlotte saw potential. “He’s hot,” she agreed. However, Beth was coming off tremendous emotional pain. “But isn’t it too soon after . . . well, you know?”

“I’m not rushing into anything, but I can look, can’t I?”

Charlotte laughed. “You looking is a positive sign.”

Her friend nodded. “Besides, anything I do or don’t do now is with eyes wide open.”

Her eyes glittered in a way Charlotte hadn’t seen—ever. A lesson learned, she thought. A woman could, in fact, get over a man. Yet despite Beth’s ability to bounce back, Charlotte had her doubts it was as easy as Beth pretended. Still, she smiled, glad to hear her friend was thinking clearly, even as she was mooning over the hunk du jour. “Does he have a name?”

“Thomas Scalia. Exotic-sounding, isn’t it?” As Beth spoke, the man in question turned and faced the window, seeming to meet her steady stare. “He came up to me after the last baseball game. After you ditched me and ran.”

Charlotte didn’t reply to that dig. She’d already left a message on her mother’s answering machine that she wanted to meet with both her parents. Her insides had been churning nervously all day because they hadn’t called back and she was anxiously anticipating the moment.

As surprising as it seemed, Samson’s words had had an effect on her. So did Roman’s absence. She still wasn’t sure how to reconcile the coin toss with his real desires, but she knew in her heart she didn’t want them to be over.

The time had come to deal with her parents and her past. Otherwise she had no future.

“Oh, my God.” Beth’s squeal jarred Charlotte out of her self-absorbed thoughts, “He’s coming inside.”

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Sure enough, the door opened and Thomas Scalia strode inside. He had the cocky, confident swagger she associated with a male in charge and Charlotte crossed her fingers. She didn’t want Beth to fall into the same trap with another dominating man who wanted to take control and change the beautiful person she was inside and out.

The bells above the door jingled behind him as he walked to the desk. “Afternoon, ladies.” He inclined his head in greeting. “Beth I already know.” He smiled, revealing dimples that had no effect on Charlotte, but obviously had Beth squirming in her seat. “But I don’t think I’ve had the pleasure.” He glanced at Charlotte only briefly.

“Charlotte Bronson,” she said, extending her hand.

He shook it. “Thomas Scalia. But you can call me Tom.” He spoke to Charlotte, but his admiring gaze never left Beth’s flushed face.

Charlotte watched their wordless exchange with a combination of amusement and longing for Roman.

She missed him with a desperation she hadn’t known she could feel, making their last meeting and all the hurtful words that had passed between them seem trivial. But there was nothing trivial about the coin toss and his feelings regarding commitment. Once Charlotte made peace with her own ghosts, there was still no guarantee he’d want to settle down. Especially now that he’d gone back on the road.

“So what can I get for you?” Beth’s voice resonated with a husky quality and brought Charlotte back to the present.

“Now, that’s a loaded question.” Thomas leaned closer.

Beth fingered the bowl of chocolates on the counter. Her hand shook as she lifted a wrapped chocolate egg in one hand. Charlotte watched in disbelief as Beth, the poised, accomplished flirt, popped a silver-wrapped chocolate Easter egg into her mouth with trembling hands.

“I admire a woman who’ll eat anything without regard to calories or weight,” Thomas said with a grin.

Beth spit the candy out and dropped her face into her palms.

Charlotte swallowed a giggle. Apparently even the most accomplished seductress got nervous around the right man. “I’m mortified,” Beth wailed, her voice muffled through her closed hands.

This time Charlotte did chuckle. Thomas whispered something low and obviously personal in Beth’s ear.

As far as the two of them were concerned, no one else in the world existed. Time to make herself scarce, Charlotte thought.

She glanced at her watch. Four-thirtyP .M. “You know what? It’s quiet today. Why don’t we lock up and leave early?”

“Perfect,” Thomas said to Beth. “I was hoping to entice you to join me for dinner. You’re more than welcome too, Charlotte,” he added politely, but she sensed the reluctance in his tone and grinned.

Beth shot her a pleading glance. Oh, no. No way would Charlotte be the third wheel at the start of a new romance. She’d let these two muddle through the embarrassing beginning on their own. Charlotte touched Beth’s hand for encouragement. Beth could handle this dinner with ease. As long as she Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

unwrapped the butter pats first.

Charlotte forced a regretful shake of her head and began to gather her things. “Thanks anyway, but I have plans,” she lied. “But Beth is free. She told me as much this afternoon.” Charlotte felt Beth’s gaze shooting daggers at her, but she didn’t mind. Charlotte had more pressing problems. “I’ll lock up.”

“I won’t hear of it. You go on upstairs,” Beth said. “I’ll lock up behind me.”

Stalling. Charlotte recognized the tactic well. Beth obviously figured she and Romeo were safer in the shop than alone somewhere else. Little did Beth know all the erotic things that could happen in this shop.

Charlotte and Roman did. Firsthand.

She swallowed over the lump in her throat caused by the memory. “It was nice meeting you, Thomas.”

“Same here.”

Less than a minute later, Charlotte had departed and ran up the stairs to her apartment. The clatter of pans and sounds of chatter greeted her as she put the key in the lock and stepped inside. So did the delicious aroma of fried chicken and mashed potatoes, which brought back surprisingly good childhood memories.

Her stomach grumbled, a combination of hunger and fear, because she had no doubt her parents awaited her.

“Honey, she’s home.” Her mother’s next words proved Charlotte right.

Inside her usually solitary apartment, Charlotte found her family and a table set for three, fresh flowers and a pitcher of iced tea in the center. Her parents met her in the small family room. Stilted hellos followed and Charlotte quickly excused herself to wash up, needing a splash of cold water on her face for bravery and fortitude.

On the way to her room, she heard the whispering sounds of two people who knew each other well. A shiver passed through her. This wasn’t how she envisioned her family at all. Yet they’d gone to a lot of trouble for this meeting, obviously taking her phone call as an overture—which it was. Now she just had to find a way to make peace with her personal ghosts.

Dinner was a silent affair. Not because Charlotte intended to treat her parents to an uncomfortable meal, but because she didn’t know what to say. It was years too late for anyone to ask how her father’s day at work had been, or how Charlotte had enjoyed her job. She wondered if it was too late for everything. If so, it was too late for her and Roman, a notion Charlotte refused to accept.

With the main meal over, Charlotte stared into her coffee cup and twirled her spoon around and around, mustering her courage. “So.” She cleared her throat.

“So.” Annie looked up at Charlotte, so much hope and expectation in her eyes, Charlotte thought she might choke on it.

Her mother wanted a reconciliation of sorts and Charlotte could think of only one way. “Why haven’t you two gotten divorced?” she asked over her mother’s fresh-baked apple pie. Her parents’ forks clattered to the table in unison. But she wouldn’t apologize for asking what had been on her mind for years.

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She needed to understand how they’d gotten to this point. It was time.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Russell stared at his daughter, deliberately not looking at his wife. If he let Annie sway him, he’d continue to take the blame for their separations, but no more. And not just because he wanted a relationship with Charlotte, but because he had a hunch her future depended on his answers.

His truthful answers. “Your mother and I never got divorced because we love each other.”

Charlotte lowered her fork and tossed the napkin on the table. “Forgive me, but you have a funny way of showing it.”

And that was the problem, Russell thought. “People have many ways of expressing their feelings.

Sometimes they even hide things to protect the ones they love.”

“Is that an excuse for being absent all these years?” She shook her head. “I’m sorry. I thought I could do this. I can’t.”

She rose and Russell stood, grabbing her arm. “Yes, you can. That’s why you called me. If you want to yell, scream, throw a tantrum, go ahead. I’m sure I deserve it. But if you want to listen and then go on with your life, I think you’ll accomplish much more.”

Silence followed and he let Charlotte take stock, decide where to go from here. It didn’t escape his notice that Annie had remained in her seat, quietly watching. Dr. Fallon had said any antidepressant medication took a while to work, so Russell didn’t expect miracles overnight. If she didn’t feel ready to take part in the conversation, at least she was here, and he knew what a huge step that was for her.

Charlotte folded her arms across her chest and exhaled a sigh of acceptance. “Okay, I’m listening.”

“Your mother always knew I wanted to act and I couldn’t make a living at it in Yorkshire Falls.”

Charlotte glanced at Annie for confirmation and she nodded.

“To make things one hundred percent clear, we got married before she ever got pregnant with you, and we got married because we wanted to,” her father said.

“Then why’d you . . .” Charlotte paused and swallowed hard.

Watching his daughter’s pain, his heart nearly ripped in two, but there’d be no healing without tearing each other apart first. He knew that now. “Why’d I what?”

“Leave?”

He gestured to the couch in the other room and they settled into the flowered fabric. Annie followed and sat on the other side of their daughter. She grabbed Charlotte’s hand and held on tight.

“Why’d you go to California without us?” Charlotte asked. “If you loved Mom as much as you say, why not stay here or take us with you? Would having a wife and a child have been such a huge burden?

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Would it have cramped your lifestyle?”

“No,” he said, clearly upset she’d think such a thing. “Don’t ever believe that. I couldn’t stay because being an actor is who I am. I couldn’t sacrifice myself. Selfish, I suppose, but true. I needed to act and I needed to be in the best place to follow my dreams.”

“And I always knew that.” Annie spoke for the first time, then brushed a tear off Charlotte’s cheek.

Charlotte rose and walked to the window, grasping on to the windowsill as she looked out. “Did you know I used to dream you’d take us all to California with you? I kept a packed suitcase under my bed just in case. I don’t know how many years I held on to that fantasy. Eventually I realized that being an actor was more important to you than we were.” She shrugged. “I can’t say I ever accepted it, though.”

“I’m glad. Maybe somewhere in here . . .” He pointed to his heart. “Maybe you realized it wasn’t true that I didn’t care more about my career than you.”

“Then why don’t you tell me how things really were?”

Russell wished the explanation were as concise and compact as she seemed to think it was. But emotions were involved. His, Annie’s . . . it wasn’t simple. All this time Russell had thought by nurturing Annie’s need for familiarity and a child’s need to be with her mother, he was helping them both. But as his daughter stared at him with huge, accusing eyes, he knew what a huge mistake he’d made.

He drew a deep breath, knowing his next words were going to hurt her as much as or more than his long absences. “Every time I came back, including this one, I asked your mother to come back to California with me.”

Charlotte took a step back, reeling from that piece of information. Her entire life had been built on the premise that her father didn’t care enough to take them with him. Annie had fostered that belief. She’d never once said Russell had asked them to join him.

Charlotte trembled, shaking in her denial. “No. No. Mom would have gone to California. She wouldn’t have chosen to stay here alone, pining for you. Letting people talk about us. Letting the kids make fun of me because I didn’t have a daddy who loved me.” She looked to her mother for confirmation.

Because to learn otherwise now would mean she’d unnecessarily lost out on years of having a father.

Even if he wasn’t in town, if she’d known he loved her, known he wanted her, her emotional foundation would have been more solid.

Surely her mother would have known that. “Mom?” Charlotte hated the little-girl sound to her voice and straightened her shoulders. She’d handle whatever happened next.

Unbelievably, Annie nodded. “It’s . . . it’s true. I couldn’t leave town and everything that was familiar.

And I couldn’t bear to be separated from you, so we stayed here.”

“But why didn’t you at least tell me Dad wanted us? You knew he wanted you. You had that thought to keep you warm and comforted at night. Why didn’t you want the same for me?”

“I wanted what was best for you. But I’m ashamed to admit I did only what was best for me. The way you reacted when your father left and the way you kept reading up on all those Hollywood books, I was afraid of losing you if you knew. You always were more like your father than like me.” She sniffed, Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

wiping at her eyes with the back of her hand. “I thought you’d go to him and leave me behind. Alone.”

Charlotte blinked. Feeling numb, she lowered herself onto the couch. “All these years, I blamed you.”

She met her father’s gaze.

“I let you, honey.”

And he had. While her mother had allowed her child to suffer, her father had perpetuated the lie that he’d abandoned them both. “Why?”

He let out a groan. “At first, it was out of love and respect for your mother’s wishes. She was so afraid of losing you, I couldn’t help feeling she needed you more than I did. And how do you explain all this to a little girl?”

“And later?”

“You became an angry teen.” He wrapped his hand around the back of his neck, shook his head, and began massaging. “On my trips home you wouldn’t have a civil conversation with me about the weather.

Then you went to college, moved to New York, and were old enough to schedule your trips home so you could avoid mine.”

That was true enough, she acknowledged with sudden, unexpected sadness and guilt. Maybe there was enough blame to go around, she thought.

“I suppose I just didn’t try hard enough.”

Charlotte exhaled hard. “And I didn’t try at all.” The admission didn’t come easily.

“It’s my fault, but there’s an explanation. I’m not looking to pass the blame, but look. . . .” With shaking hands, Annie reached for her purse and pulled out a small vial of prescription medication. “Dr. Fallon said it sounds like I’ve had a severe case of depression.”

Hadn’t Charlotte approached the doctor sensing just such a possibility?

Annie blinked back tears. “Maybe I should have taken these before, but I didn’t realize I needed help.

Your father said . . . he said Dr. Fallon had spoken with you and you thought there might be a problem. I didn’t know. I thought I had to feel this way. I thought it was normal. I mean, I’ve always felt this way.”

Her voice broke, but she continued, “And I couldn’t bear to lose you too. I know I caused you pain because of my . . . illness, and I’m sorry.” Annie hugged Charlotte tight. “I’m so sorry.”

Her mother smelled like her mother—warm and soft and comforting. But there’d always been something childlike about Annie. She’d always seemed so fragile, Charlotte realized now. Even the librarian job was so perfect for her because of the silence and soft words spoken there.

“I’m not mad at you, Mom.” She was just off kilter and confused. The lump in her throat was so large it hurt, and she wasn’t sure how to absorb the truth.

Looking back, so much made sense, but only recently had Charlotte realized there was a more serious problem. She still had a hunch they were dealing with something more deeply rooted than mild depression, something akin to mental illness. Why else would a person keep her shades drawn and windows closed, preferring loneliness to other people’s company, including the husband she loved?

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Why hadn’t any of them picked up on the signs before? Perhaps they’d all been too self-absorbed, Charlotte thought sadly.

“I think we should leave you alone to think about all this,” he said in the wake of Charlotte’s silence. He grabbed her mother’s hand. “Annie?”

She nodded. “I’m coming,” she said, before looking at Charlotte. “And again, I’m sorry.”

They started for the door together and Charlotte let them go.

She hoped and prayed that with the truth would come understanding and peace. But she needed time alone to understand the things she’d heard and decide how she felt now. How she’d feel when the numbness wore off.

Hours later, Charlotte settled herself in her bed, but kept her window shades open so she could stare out at the inky night sky. She was too wound up to sleep and thought maybe counting stars would help her relax. Unfortunately, her thoughts were running through her mind at a rapid pace. Talk about living an illusion, she thought. The father she thought hadn’t cared about her did.

Yet for a lifetime, Charlotte had modeled her behavior and treatment of men—men like Russell and travelers like Roman Chandler—on the abandonment lie perpetuated by her parents. But Russell Bronson wasn’t who Charlotte thought he was. He was selfish and had his faults, but he loved her mother. Charlotte had to give him some credit for that. Even if he could have done more to help both Annie and his daughter, he couldn’t sacrifice his entire life in the name of love.

Charlotte wouldn’t even ask that of Roman. Not anymore. Asking him to stay in Yorkshire Falls was as selfish as Russell had been in his own way. Roman deserved better from her.

It was ironic, really. Roman wasn’t the man she’d needed him to be. Charlotte had needed Roman to be the wanderer with no feelings, the love ’em and leave ’em bachelor who cared for no one but himself.

She’d needed Roman to be all those things because it gave her an excuse to keep him at an emotional distance. To prevent herself from being hurt the way she thought her mother had been.

Now she just needed him.

She curled more deeply into the mattress, pulled up her covers, and yawned. Love had a way of casting aside all safety nets, Charlotte thought. And tomorrow she would make her own leap of faith with no guarantees of where she’d land.

At some point Charlotte must have dozed off, because the sun shining through the window woke her at dawn. She’d slept well for the first time in ages and opened her eyes to a rush of adrenaline she hadn’t expected. She showered, ate a cup of peach yogurt, then decided it was late enough to call Rick.

He picked up after one ring. “Rick Chandler at your service.”

“Someone’s in a good mood,” Charlotte mused.

“Yeah, well, a good run will do that for you. What’s up, Charlotte? Everything okay?”

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“Yes,” she said, thinking of her decision to go after Roman. “And no,” she muttered, knowing she also had to tell Rick about Samson yet elicit his promise to protect and not turn the harmless older man in. “I need to talk to you.”

“You know I always have time for you. But I’m on my way out the door. I’ve got meetings scheduled in Albany and I won’t be back until later.”

Her disappointment was strong. Now that she’d made up her mind, she was ready to take action.

“How ’bout I come by on the way home?” he asked. “Probably around seven.”

She tucked the phone beneath her ear and rinsed off her spoon as she figured her schedule. “It’s Sponsors Night. I’m supposed to throw out the ceremonial first pitch at the Rockets’ game tonight.” As much as she’d rather ditch her entire day and get to Roman as quickly as possible, she couldn’t let the kids down. And she didn’t want to.

What she had to say to Rick couldn’t be done in public and would have to wait until tonight, “Why don’t you come by my place after the game?” she suggested.

“Sounds like a plan. Are you sure you’re okay?”

She rolled her eyes. “Would you quit asking me? You’re beginning to sound like the big brother I never had.”

“Yeah, well, I promised.”

“You promised what?” Butterflies began a steady flutter inside her stomach. And to who?

Silence extended over the phone line. “Come on, Rick. What did you mean?”

He cleared his throat. “Nothing. Just that it’s my job to make sure you’re okay.”

His job as a cop or his job as a brother? she wondered. Had Roman made Rick promise something before he’d taken off?

“Well, I’m fine.” As curious as she was, she accepted Rick’s vague answer. She knew better than to think she’d get one Chandler brother to snitch on another.

“I’ll see you tonight.”

“Right. Drive safe.” Charlotte hung up the phone and exhaled hard. One long workday and seven innings of baseball to go, and then she’d find out where Roman had gone. Charlotte had twelve hours to get up the nerve to make the trip to wherever. To leave Yorkshire Falls and land uninvited on Roman’s doorstep, completely uncertain of the reception she’d receive.

The day was longer than Charlotte could have envisioned, each hour feeling like several. Listening to Beth go on and on about Thomas Scalia had brought out mixed feelings, happiness for her friend and envy because she was alone, her future unsure.

But the day passed and Charlotte finally threw the ceremonial first pitch while her parents sat in the Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

stands watching her. Together. She shook her head in amazement. Not that she held any illusions. Russell would be back in California by early next week. Alone this time, but maybe not for long.

Annie had agreed to meet with a therapist. Harrington had a wonderful mental health clinic and her mother had decided, with her father’s encouragement, to see a psychiatrist Dr. Fallon had recommended there. Meanwhile, her father had decided to tie up some loose ends in L.A. and come home for a while, at least long enough for Annie to begin therapy and see if she could wrap her mind around the possibility of moving west.

Would wonders never cease? Charlotte mused, happier and more hopeful about life than she’d been in a while. As if they knew, Charlotte’s Rockets beat the competition again, despite their star pitcher being out with a broken wrist and some other assorted player injuries. Though it was still early in the season, they’d designated Charlotte their good luck charm, going so far as to give her an honorary spaceship locket to hang on a chain around her neck in appreciation of her sponsorship and perfect attendance record so far. The gesture brought a lump to her throat and made her glad she hadn’t ditched the kids in favor of her personal life.

“What personal life?” she asked aloud as she let herself back into her apartment, the night over at last.

The joke seemed to be on her. Even her mother had a private life, whereas right now Charlotte had none. But once she saw Rick and got information on Roman, she’d be on her way—to what, she didn’t know, but at least she’d be taking positive steps forward.

Charlotte dropped her keys on the kitchen table, walked over to the blinking answering machine, and hit play. “Hi, Charlotte. It’s me, Rick. I got hung up in Albany and then was called out on a case as soon as I hit town again. We have to talk, so sit tight.”

As if she had anywhere else to go. Not tired and still wound up from the game, she headed into the kitchen and dug through the freezer for the pint of vanilla butterscotch ice cream she kept stashed in the back. Spoon in hand, she decided she’d hang out in her bedroom. Ever since splurging on a small thirteen-inch color television for nights in bed, she found she enjoyed lounging in her room better than hanging out alone in the living area of the small apartment. With luck, she’d find something on television to kill more time until Rick finally arrived.

She approached her room, scarfing spoonfuls of ice cream on the way. The dim lighting from the doorway took her by surprise. She didn’t remember leaving her bedside lamp on when she’d left for work this morning. She shrugged, then entered her private sanctuary at the same time she licked sticky butterscotch off her lips.

“I could help you do that. If you’re willing to talk to me.”

Charlotte halted in her tracks. Her heart stopped beating for a second before beginning again, more erratic and quickly than before. “Roman?” Stupid question. Of course that deep, husky voice belonged to Roman.

And it was Roman, sexily lounging in gray sweats, a navy T-shirt, and bare feet on her frilly white bedspread and assorted pillows. Only a man of his stature and build could look even more masculine when leaning into feminine frills and eyelets. Only a woman in love could want to toss caution out the window and run into his arms.

She let out a frustrated puff of air. She’d missed him and was desperately glad to see him, but they had Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

issues that remained unsettled. And until they’d discussed those problems and came to an understanding that fulfilled them both, too much remained uncertain between them. Though at this moment Charlotte felt like she could live solely on love and the air he breathed, she was smarter than that.

At least she hoped she was. Because her resolve to wait was crumbling quickly.

Roman forced himself to remain calm and relaxed. Hard to do when cushioned in Charlotte’s soft bed and surrounded by her feminine scent, a scent he’d missed while he’d been gone. And even harder to do with her staring at him, a mixture of longing and wariness in her gorgeous green eyes.

He’d gotten into town, and with everyone at dinner or the Little League game, he’d remained undetected, which was good, since he’d counted on the element of surprise.

Wanting her alone, and the sooner the better, he’d planned to grab her and run—back to his house, her apartment, he didn’t care. He had much to share about his trip to Washington, D.C., and a future that he hoped included her.

But no matter how anxious he was to bridge the physical distance between them, he wouldn’t rush things. She had to trust him first.

“Did you miss me?” he asked.

“Did you miss me? ” she retorted.

He grinned. Well, at least she hadn’t lost her spunk, and besides, he hadn’t expected her to jump into his arms. “Of course I missed you.”

Instead of finding Charlotte at home or in her shop, he’d discovered her on the field, throwing out the ceremonial first pitch. Then she was embraced by her father. Her father. Seeing her forgiving heart, Roman had fallen in love all over again.

He’d watched her smile at Russell, and Roman instantly knew she’d made peace with that part of her life. He hoped it would allow her to make peace with him.

He patted the seat beside him. “Join me.”

“How’d you get in?” she asked instead.

“The fire escape. I knew you’d go back to leaving your window unlocked without me around to look after you.” And she had. So he’d climbed in through the fire escape and settled himself in her bed to wait.

“You need a keeper, Charlotte.” He recalled her telling him that on the day of their first reunion in Norman’s back hall. He’d never envisioned they’d end up at this juncture, his heart and future hinging on this beautiful woman’s choices.

“Are you applying for the job?” she asked.

He shrugged, trying not to let his emotions show. Not yet. “I thought I already did.”

“Because you called heads when Chase chose tails?” she asked a little too casually.

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Her lightly tossed barb stung, because it meant she was still hurting and he was the cause. “Actually, Chase was never involved.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Let me guess. Because he already paid his dues.”

“Rick did say you were smart.”

She rolled her eyes.

“And you are. Smart enough to come after me?” He asked her, taking in the open suitcase across the room that had been taunting him with that exact possibility since he’d let himself in. Just the fact that she was brave enough to make the trip told him what he already knew. She was more her father’s daughter than she’d ever realized, and he realized now that that wasn’t a bad thing. He had a hunch she knew it too.

She was Roman’s perfect soul mate. And for a man who’d never thought in such terms before, the admission was huge—and one he wanted to share with her.

“Come on, Charlotte. Could it be I saved you a trip?” He heard the hope in his voice, but didn’t care. If laying his heart out for her to trample was the solution to getting her back, he’d do it.

“Damn you, Roman.” She reached for a crocheted pillow on her dresser and tossed it at him hard, whacking him on the head. “You’re too arrogant for your own good.”

“But not for yours, I hope? Forgive me, Charlotte.”

She swallowed and tapped her foot on the floor, making him wait. “You are arrogant,” she muttered, but a grin tugged at her lips, one she couldn’t hide, no matter how angry she was, no matter how hard she obviously tried.

“It’s one of my more charming qualities. Now quit stalling and put me out of my misery.”

That got to her, and she lifted an eyebrow in wonder. She was obviously surprised he’d been unhappy.

That stunned him. How could she not know he was only half a man without her by his side? “Tell me where you planned to go.”

She shook her head. “Oh, no. You first. Where did you disappear to, and better yet, why are you back?”

“Come sit next to me and I’ll tell you.”

“You’re inviting me to sit on my own bed with you, the uninvited guest. What’s wrong with this picture?”

He glanced around, his gaze settling on the large oval mirror across the room. The reflective glass gave him a perfect view of himself lying in her bed. He shrugged. “Not a thing, as far as I can see.”

With a groan, she stalked across the room and settled herself beside him, a melting bowl of ice cream her only physical barrier. “Now talk.”

“Only if you promise to feed me later.”

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“Roman—”

“I’m not stalling. I’m serious, I haven’t eaten in hours. I flew in and came straight here to see you.” With a slight detour to the baseball game that they’d get to once she opened up to him about her new relationship with her father. “So if you like what you hear, you have to promise to feed me.”

“Next thing I know, you’ll be asking me to feed you by hand.”

“By mouth would work just as well,” he teased.

Her lips tugged upward in a hesitant smile.

At least he could still affect her, he thought. “I’ve been in Washington, D.C.”

“Fair enough,” she murmured and placed the bowl on the nightstand. “I promise to feed you.”

“Good. Remember I told you about a job offer in D.C.?” His next thought was interrupted by loud banging on Charlotte’s door. The steady ringing of her buzzer followed.

She jumped up from the bed. “It’s Rick. I asked him to come over so I could find out—” She stopped herself before she could finish.

“Find out what, Charlotte?” But he already knew. Just as he thought. She’d been looking for him.

“Nothing you need to worry about.” She blushed, but before he could respond, Rick pounded on the door once more. “I need to see Rick about something else, too. You’ll find it interesting, I promise.”

More interesting than them? Roman doubted it. “Okay, let the pain in the ass in.”

He rose from the comfortable bed and followed Charlotte into the living area, greeting his brother with a practiced glare.

“I didn’t know he was back.” Rick gestured to Roman. “Welcome home . . . oh, shit.”

“Not the greeting I was expecting.”

“You two aren’t going to believe this.” Rick shook his head. “Hell, I don’t believe this.”

“Well, before you launch into any story, I’ve got something to tell you,” Charlotte said.

Roman shook his head. “You’ve both got me curious.” Rick exhaled hard.

“Okay, then, ladies first.”

“Right.” She wrung her hands before her in a gesture so un-Charlotte-like, Roman grew concerned.

“No,” she said, changing her mind. “Wrong. You go first.”

Rick shrugged. “I got home planning to come straight here, but we got some calls at the station. Several in fact. It seems the panty thief struck again.”

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“What?” Roman and Charlotte said at once.

“In reverse, actually. The panties were returned.”

Roman started to laugh. “You’ve got to be kidding.”

“Nope. Every last one of them was left either inside the house or on the front porch. Even though we never officially considered Roman a suspect, I’d planned on telling Charlotte that the ladies around town were going to have to give up their notion of Roman as a panty thief.” Rick ran a hand through his hair.

“Why? Did you catch the guy?” Charlotte asked warily.

“No, dammit.”

Was it Roman’s imagination, or did she just heave a giant sigh of relief?

“But with Roman out of town, they’d have to give up their fantasies regarding my baby brother,” Rick continued.

“What’s the matter? Jealous they weren’t flashing their undies at you?” Roman grinned.

“Funny.” Rick shook his head. “But it’s just occurred to me here that with you back in town, looks like you’re going to have to live with the stigma.” He chuckled at the thought.

To Roman’s complete astonishment, Charlotte came up beside him and slipped her warm, soft hand in his. She stood by his side as she looked at Rick and said, “No, he won’t.”

“You know something about this, don’t you?” Roman asked.

“I might.” She squeezed his hand tighter. Although he didn’t need her looking out for him, he liked this protective side of her. Especially since they hadn’t come close to straightening things out between them, yet she was defending him anyway.

“Come on, Charlotte. You can’t withhold information from me,” Rick said.

“Oh, I don’t know, Rick. I never said I knew anything.” She glanced up at Roman, her eyes wide and imploring. “Did anyone see you tonight? Anyone know you’re back other than us?”

He shook his head. “Despite the small-town bit, I really don’t think anyone noticed me.” He’d kept to himself intentionally, though he didn’t think Rick would appreciate him pointing that out.

“Rick, if I did know something, I wouldn’t tell you unless you promised me two things. One is to never use the information I give you and the second is to never tell another soul Roman was back in town tonight.”

His brother’s face flushed a deep shade of red. “You can’t mean to bribe a police officer.”

She rolled her eyes. “In that case, I don’t know anything. It’s been nice seeing you, Rick. Good night.”

Roman hadn’t a clue what was going on, but he was putting an end to it now. “This is ridiculous.

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Charlotte, whatever you know, you have to talk. And Rick, you promise her anything she asks.”

Rick burst out laughing. “Yeah, right.”

“Samson’s responsible for the panty thefts and if you repeat that, arrest him, question him, or so much as lift an eyebrow his way, I’ll deny ever having said anything. I’ll pay for his lawyer and we’ll sue you for harassment. No hard feelings, by the way. I really do like you, Rick.” She treated Roman’s stunned brother to her sweetest smile.

That sugary grin would have Roman groveling at her feet. Unfortunately, Rick wasn’t Roman, and his cop brother was livid. He turned even redder. “You knew this and withheld the information? For how long?”

“What good would it have done to tell? He’s a harmless old man who was looking out for me. I’m nice to him, so he figured he’d drum up interest in my business. Roman being blamed was completely unplanned.”

“But beneficial.” Roman saw the humor in the situation even if Rick didn’t. His high school prank benefited Samson’s cause.

“What he did was illegal,” Rick pointed out. “Or did you lose sight of that?”

She jerked her hand out of Roman’s and placed her hands on her hips. “Tell me who got hurt. And then tell me who will benefit by hauling the poor man in for anything. It’s over now. I promise. He won’t do it again.”

Roman leaned close and whispered in her ear. “You probably shouldn’t make promises you can’t keep, sweetheart. You have no control over the man.” No more control than Roman had over his body now that he’d inhaled her delicious scent and those long strands of tousled hair had tickled his nose and cheek, arousing him.

It was time his brother made a quick exit, Roman thought. “She’s right and you know it, Rick. You aren’t doing anyone justice if you prosecute the guy.”

“He won’t do it again. Please?” Charlotte asked in a soft, pleading voice.

“Argh. Fine. Since I don’t have a witness, I’ll lay off Samson, but if this happens again—”

“It won’t,” Charlotte and Roman said at once. Roman assumed they’d be making a joint trip to visit the

“duck man” and make sure he understood the break he’d been given.

“And since Samson went to the trouble of replacing the underwear in order to exonerate Roman during his absence, you never saw Roman in town tonight, right?” She said in a determined voice. “The first time you’ll have seen him since he left over a week ago is—”

“Twenty-four hours from now, when I knock on your door,” Roman decided. “Until then, we’re incommunicado.” He put his palm on Rick’s back and shoved him toward the door. “If anyone asks, Charlotte’s got the flu.”

“I don’t believe this,” Rick muttered as he took a step into the outside hall.

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“You’re a good man, Rick Chandler,” Charlotte called out to him.

Rick turned. “The things I do in the name of love,” he said, and disappeared down the steps, muttering to himself the entire way.

The next twenty-four hours. The words reverberated in Charlotte’s brain as she shut the door behind Rick and turned to face Roman. “Dare I ask where you plan on hiding out for the next day?”

Twenty-four hours, she thought once more. A long, long time for two people to remain incommunicado.

Alone, together. Was that all the time they had left? Or did Roman have something different in mind?

“Your bed was pretty cozy. Of course, it would be more cozy if you were in there with me.”

Once again her heart picked up a frantic rhythm. “Tell me about Washington.”

He held out his hand, and next thing she knew, he led her back into the bedroom until they were comfortably settled on her frilly double bed. As comfortable as she could be with sexual awareness and anticipation humming between them and a soft mattress beckoning.

“Washington’s hot and humid already. It’s a great place to live. Fun, upbeat.”

“Are you planning on switching your home base? Leaving New York City for Washington, D.C.?”

“The job offer was for an editorial position, but then I wouldn’t have the freedom—”

“To travel?” she guessed, sensing by his tone he’d turned the well-known paper down.

“Yup. I want to be able to work from a laptop. Editorial is too much desk-sitting and I’d need to be available for the people working under me.”

She gnawed on the inside of her cheek. “I can see where being stuck in D.C. wouldn’t suit you. You being used to world travel and huge stories and all.”

“I’ve gotten used to you.” Taking her by surprise, he brushed one finger down her cheek. “I can’t very well be stuck behind a desk in D.C. if you’ve got a business to run here.”

She was confused and frustrated and hopeful at the same time. Most of all, she was sick of him talking in circles without making a point she could grab on to. In a move that shocked even her, she managed to take Roman down, pinning his shoulders onto the bed and straddling his waist. “Let’s try this again, and try English this time. Did you or did you not take the job?”

He stared at her wide-eyed, obviously amused and, from the feel of his erection between her thighs, very aroused. “I didn’t take the editorial job.”

She picked up on his subtle nuance. “Which job did you take?”

“The one for op-ed columnist. They were very impressed with a recent piece of writing I’d done while home, a slice-of-life that showed them I can cover every angle. I resigned from the AP and I can now work primarily from home, while commuting on occasion to D.C. And taking vacations to exotic parts of Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

the world when we feel like it.”

“We.” She would have swallowed, but her mouth had grown dry. She could barely speak, but she managed. Some things were too important. “Where’s home, Roman?”

“Wherever you are, Charlotte.” Those incredible blue eyes stared into hers.

She blinked, unable to believe this world traveler had given up imparting world news to settle in D.C.

and Yorkshire Falls. With her. She shook her head. “You can’t give up everything you love,” she told him.

“I can’t give up you. It was hell being a couple of hours away in D.C. I can’t imagine anything more long distance. I’d die of loneliness.” He grinned.

“Don’t get carried away.” She caressed his cheek and held his face in her palm. “But I want you happy.

I never want you to resent me or the choices you made.”

“You said it, sweetheart. They’re choices I made.”

Before he’d even had Charlotte’s okay, she realized. He’d taken concrete steps toward changing his life. He’d already quit his AP job, already taken another. All without a firm commitment from her about their future. He’d made choices he wanted to make, she realized now. And though he hadn’t mentioned children or the coin toss, Charlotte knew Roman well enough to know he hadn’t made this decision because of a bet or out of family obligation. Instead he’d followed his heart.

Just like she’d been ready to follow hers, she thought, taking in her open suitcase. The silly bet had become a moot issue for her before he’d ever returned.

“Washington’s the best compromise I can come up with,” he said. “You’ll really like it during the time you’re there and Beth can run Charlotte’s Attic when you are. I found an apartment, but if you don’t like it, we can pick something else there and buy or build a house here. And the best thing is that there’s an easy flight into Albany that should work for us both. If you’re willing.”

“And if I’m not?” She had to ask. Had to know he’d be doing this anyway. Because if he planned to go back to his AP job if she turned him down, they didn’t stand a chance. Charlotte held her breath and waited.

“We have many awkward run-ins for the rest of our lives. I’ve made my choices, Charlotte. I want them to include you, but they’re final either—”

She cut him off with a sizzling kiss that had been too long in coming. His tongue met hers and he thrust deep inside her mouth, taking possession, letting her know she was his now and forever. She felt the words and the thoughts in every movement he made. And though she’d started as the aggressor, she soon found herself in the opposite position, flat on her back, clothes on the floor, and Roman devouring her with a wicked gleam in his eyes. “I realize we have details to work out.”

“They can wait.” Her breaths came in sudden pants.

He struggled to divest himself of his shirt while she unzipped his jeans and wrapped one hand around his thick, hard length.

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“God.” The word came out a sharp exhale. “Give me a second or I’m going to explode.”

Charlotte laughed and let go, not wanting to ruin the fun before it began. Was this the lifetime she had to look forward to? she wondered as she watched the man she loved undress. Suddenly a commuter-type relationship didn’t seem half bad. Not when it involved Roman.

Just as suddenly, she was able to understand her mother a bit more. Why she’d held on to the man she loved despite the distance and her own inability to move with him. Perhaps she and Annie weren’t so different after all, and perhaps that wasn’t such a bad thing, Charlotte thought.

Roman resettled himself on top of her, then reached for the bowl of ice cream. “Remember I said I was hungry?”

Charlotte tipped her head to one side, unrestrained desire in her green eyes. “I remember promising to feed you,” she said, a sassy note in her voice.

He dribbled the melted ice cream down her skin. The cool liquid had her belly quivering and she felt the need pulse low and deep between her legs. “Ah, yes.” She let out a low moan. “Rick was right, you know,” she said to Roman.

“About what?”

She met his molten gaze. “I do love you.”

“I love you too.” And he proceeded to show her how much, starting with the ice cream that had pooled on her belly. He took a warm lap with his tongue. The heated contrast to the cold ice cream caused her stomach to ripple and her legs to quiver, as need built inside her.

And as he bent his head to take care of that need, Charlotte thought that she could indeed handle Roman’s kind of life. For the rest of hers and beyond.

Epilogue

Charlotte lay naked on top of white sheets. Sunlight filtered through the sheer curtains, but privacy wasn’t an issue. Their hotel room was on the fifteenth floor, with no other high buildings surrounding them. As Roman studied her, he was struck yet again by the beauty she possessed inside and out, as well as his complete and utter good fortune.

How had he almost tossed this gift aside, thinking he didn’t want long-term? How had he ever thought he could be apart from her as a way of life?

He leaned over and dangled a cluster of grapes enticingly. She plucked one into her mouth with her teeth, then grinned. “You’re spoiling me.”

“That’s the point.”

“How can a girl argue with that? What’s on today’s agenda?” she asked.

They’d seen castles in Scotland and the home of the Loch Ness Monster. “I was thinking we could call the travel agent and add a quick trip to California on the way home next week.” Roman held his breath Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

for her answer because he’d already booked the trip. Wanting more time to gauge her reaction, he’d waited before springing it on her. He could always cancel and they’d fly straight home to Yorkshire Falls, check on her mother and his, as well as the shop, before starting their life in D.C. He hoped she’d want to see everything Hollywood had to offer, but he couldn’t be sure whether the memories would still be upsetting despite the reconciliation with her father.

“I thought you’d be anxious to get home to Raina by now,” Charlotte said.

“You know as well as I do, heartburn never killed anyone.”

“Then I’d love to see Hollywood with you. Maybe Russell can give us a tour.” Her green eyes glittered with pleasure.

That was the surprise plan, but Roman didn’t reveal all now. “Maybe.”

She fell back against the pillows and laughed. “I still can’t believe the lengths your mother went to in order to get you boys married off.” She was obviously thinking of Raina’s antics again.

“Thank God I figured it out. All that tea and Maalox were the first clue she was dealing with indigestion more than a heart ailment; so were the over-the-counter acid-killing medications. But she also exhibited the classic symptoms of a bad liar.” He shook his head, remembering, “She’d never look me in the eye when I questioned her about her health, and when she thought I wasn’t around, she took the stairs like a sprint runner.” He rolled his eyes at the memory.

“Not to mention the fact that she forgot to hide her exercise clothes?”

He chuckled. Before his trip to D.C., he’d tossed in a load of laundry and found his mother’s damp sweats and T-shirt in the wash. No way he’d been looking at anything other than freshly worn exercise clothing. He’d wanted to strangle her when he put the facts together, but he’d needed his story confirmed first.

It had been easy to corner Dr. Leslie Gaines and pretend his mother had confided in him about her condition. He led the doctor to believe he knew his mother’s health problems weren’t serious, but was concerned that liquid antacid wasn’t too healthy either. Dr. Gaines had agreed that gastric reflux wasn’t as severe a problem as the heart attack they’d thought Raina had the night she was brought into the ER.

The doctor assured him she was still monitoring Raina’s heart anyway, and said she’d consider stronger prescription medication for her reflux.

“How could your mother not realize she was dealing with Chandler men with inherited reporters’

instincts?” Charlotte asked.

“Because she was dealing with sons who put love and concern first and never once thought to look beyond.” Hell, if Roman hadn’t lived with her, he’d never have caught on.

“And you’re sure you’re doing the right thing not telling her you know?”

Roman grinned. “She thinks she’s got the start of a winning track record. Why ruin her good mood?

Besides, once I got over the shock and anger, I paid her back, didn’t I?”

Charlotte stretched against the mattress, her lean body tempting him as much as the first time he’d laid eyes on her. “By telling her she wouldn’t be getting grandchildren anytime soon because we want time Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

alone together first, I know. And I still feel guilty lying to her.”

“She deserves payback,” he murmured. “And I don’t know if I deserve you, but I’m going to enjoy you anyway.” He dipped his head to trail lazy kisses around her breast, teasing her with quick darts of his tongue, but never latching on to the nipple that begged for his touch, his tongue, his teeth.

Charlotte arched her back and moaned, a supplication and a plea for him to put her out of her misery and latch on to that distended tip. He’d come to know her body signals and signs well within the last few weeks and he’d never tire of learning more. “Not yet, sweetheart.”

“We need—”

“I know exactly what we need,” he said, his groin throbbing and ready to enter her slick body. He tormented her with his fingers first, gliding them between her legs and slipping one into her slick folds.

She squeezed her legs together tight, trapping his hand between her thighs and stilling any more movement. “We need to let Chase and Rick in on her condition.”

Roman groaned. “How can you think about anything at this moment, including—or should I say especially—my brothers?”

“It’s called prioritizing, and it isn’t easy, believe me. Don’t you think I’d rather be making love to you instead of rehashing this?”

They’d had this same argument before, Charlotte telling him it was unfair to keep Chase and Rick in the dark about Raina’s decent health. “Honey, when we get home, we’ll talk about telling Rick and Chase.

In the meantime, the longer we keep them in the dark, the longer they’ll be at Mom’s mercy, and the better chance they have of finding the happiness we have together.”

She sighed. “Maybe you’re right.”

“I know I am.”

“Then why do I feel so guilty?”

He grinned. “Because you have too much time to think. Which means I ought to distract you completely.”

Roman raised himself up and over her, settling himself on top of his wife. His wife. The word, which once would have sent him running abroad, now filled him with complete satisfaction. And all because of Charlotte.

She not only loved him, but she adored his family and looked out for them the same way she did for her own. This beautiful, caring woman was his, and would be forever. And he intended to enjoy every living, breathing moment of married life, while making all Charlotte’s dreams and fantasies come true.

His groin pulsed against her soft feminine mound. “Open for me, Charlotte.”

Her lips turned upward in a sexy smile at the same time her thighs parted wide. She was already wet and ready for him, and he thrust inside her easily and quickly, but there was nothing quick about how he intended to make love to her.

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Her sigh of satisfaction was complemented by her body’s reaction, as she clenched and closed herself around his hard erection. “Oh, yeah,” he muttered, the slick heat filling him not just with hot need, but also with a deep emotional warmth. His bachelor days were long and happily behind him.

“I love you, Roman,” her lips whispered against the skin on his neck.

“I love you too, Charlotte,” he said. And then he proceeded to show her just how much.

About the Author

Award-winning, bestselling author Carly Phillips is an attorney who tossed away legal briefs in favor of writing hot, sizzling romances for Harlequin and Warner Books. Since her first sale in 1998, Carly has sold a total of eighteen books. She lives with her husband, two young daughters and a frisky Wheaton Terrier who thinks he’s child number three. When not spending time with her family, Carly is busy writing, promoting, and playing online! She loves to hear from her readers, and you can write to her at: P.O. Box 483, Purchase, NY 10577 or email atcarly@carlyphillips.com.

No one can resist . . . a Chandler man! Meet all three Chandler brothers! For excerpts, contests, and more information on her fun, sexy trilogy from Warner Books ( The Bachelor, The Playboy , and The Loner ), visitwww.carlyphillips.com.

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special ebook Feature: Insights and Excerpts of Carly Phillips The Infinite Appeal of Small Towns

A Step in the Right Direction

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The Heartbreaker—Excerpt

The Playboy—Excerpt

The Infinite Appeal of Small Towns

by Carly Phillips

small towns have always held a special appeal for Americans. They form the very heart and soul of the country in everyday life and in fiction. Why? Probably because many of us live that small town life and even those who don’t recognize that at its core, small towns represent simplicity and escape from the pressures and hectic pace of big cities and everyday living. This appeal was underscored by the popularity of American illustrator Norman Rockwell (1894-1978), especially with his 322 covers for Saturday Evening Post . His paintings of everyday, usually small-town people almost always tell stories, often humorous ones. His use of careful observation and technical skill portray homey incidents, well-defined character, and a wealth of supporting detail. As an author, that is what I aspire to accomplish with the written word.

Most of my books deal with families but with the Chandler brothers and Yorkshire Falls, I undertook small towns at their best—the ideal of home and hearth, of being able to go back to where you started and begin again, even if you were born and bred in the city. Small towns represent a space where everyman can escape the pressures and grind of everyday life. They are a place where life proceeds at a slower pace and where the things we take for granted mean more—such as the glow of a fading sunset or the whispered conversation with a loved one on the proverbial porch. At its heart, small towns are a place where honesty shines through. Since practically everyone is supposed to know everyone else’s business in a small town, little remains undercovers and what does, runs deep.

Yorkshire Falls began as just another small, upper New York town in my imagination, but it developed into far more. For the Chandler brothers trilogy, it became a theme that threads the brothers together beyond just family ties. For youngest brother and globetrotting journalist, Roman, in The Bachelor , Yorkshire Falls represents the small-mindedness and boring existence he wants to escape in his early years, only to discover later that having roots makes him stronger. That, which he ran from at a young age, represents hearth and home later on.

Middle brother and town cop, Rick, in The Playboy , sees the town as a place he loves and protects, but can’t truly be a part of until an outsider shows him how to overcome his past.

Chase, the eldest and editor/owner of the town newspaper, in The Heartbreaker , has dedicated his life to the newspaper his father owned, making him the heartbeat of the town, but discovers that he can’t continue to live for everyone else. Yet no matter what, the brothers live and love in their small hometown.

Then of course there are the unusual characters we come to know and love as part of the fabric of Yorkshire Falls. They are the unique pattern woven into the tapestry of a small town that make home, unlike any place on earth. There are Pearl and Eldin, an elderly couple who’ve lived together for so long, that no one can remember them apart, and yet they’ve never married. There is also Samson, the town eccentric, whose heart of gold makes him richer in friends than anyone else—as much to his surprise as everyone else’s. You’ll also find Raina Chandler, the meddling mother whose busybody antics are the root of the Chandler brother’s adventures and whose style is the epitome of every small town mother who has made a career out of arranging the lives of the people around her.

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In different ways these characters all represent the dynamics that push away and yet draw us back time and again to small towns. Readers will continue to gravitate to small town settings because of the wealth of feeling and dimension that they offer. For good or bad, the American psyche is wrapped around the idea of small towns. I hope you’ll come and visit my small town of Yorkshire Falls in the Chandler brother’s books and discover the appeal for yourself.

Copyright © 2002 Carly Phillips

A Step in the Right Direction

by Carly Phillips

Like the arrow keys on a computer which move my manuscript up or down, forward or back, taking a new step in my writing career was filled with possibilities. I started writing category because I love Romance and the shorter genre. I still do and so, my category career continues. But as is human nature, I wanted to try something different. Enter Warner Books and the opportunity to write single title romance and take my career in a new and challenging direction. How did I handle the experience and what have I learned as a result? Because I am a writer, I think those computer arrow keys provide a perfect analogy.

A Step Forward:

More characters and more space to develop them! More plot, if I choose. In The Bachelor , I opted for a panty thief to spice things up. More, more more! I was in writer’s heaven.

A Step Backward:

Entering a new genre was like starting over again with that first sale. New editors, new expectations, and all new rules culminating in that dreaded word, revisions! But with the right editor, the experience was challenging and I came through learning much about my writing, myself and the things I can accomplish.

By the time I worked on my second single title, The Playboy , I’d learned many lessons and was able to apply them with confidence. Less revisions and much praise! That step backward was a worthwhile trip!

A Step Sideways:

Move those computer keys left or right, the direction doesn’t matter. While I was writing, sometimes I felt like I was treading water without making headway—especially since I went from writing a 230-page manuscript to a 400-page manuscript. With the help of a supportive critique partner and family, the books did get written and from treading water, I’d reached the finish line!

I’m now *this* close to seeing my book in print and on the bookstore shelves. I’ve learned about promoting single titles and how different and more time consuming that job is than promoting category.

I’ve learned to think more about budgeting my money for promoting (note, I didn’t say I DID budget).

And I’ve learned to treat my publisher as a partner in having the book do well. But the most important thing I’ve discovered on the road to publishing a single title is that every step taken is ultimately, a step forward.

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Copyright 2002 AOL Time Warner Book Group.

CHAPTER ONE

Chase Chandler walked out of the gate into Dulles International Airport and inhaled deeply. Each breath of air outside his hometown of Yorkshire Falls, New York, presented true freedom. At last.

“Hey, big brother!” His youngest sibling, Roman, pulled him into a bear hug. “Welcome to D.C. Good flight?”

“The best kind. Short and on time.” Chase hiked his duffel bag over his shoulder and started toward the exit. “How’s the wife?”

A ridiculous smile settled on Roman’s lips. “Charlotte’s amazing. Getting bigger by the day. My kid’s Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

growing inside her,” he added, as if he hadn’t reminded them all of Charlotte’s pregnancy one hundred times before. “One month to go.” He rubbed his hands together in obvious anticipation.

“Just recently a wife and kid was the last thing you wanted. We had to toss a coin to decide which of us would give Mom the grandkid she wanted so badly. Now look at you. A husband and soon-to-be dad, and happy about both.” Chase shook his head, amazed and pleased with the changes in his little brother.

The kid was settled and happy, which made Chase happy. He’d done his duty by his family.

Roman shrugged. “What can I say? That was before. Now I’m a changed man.”

“Before you grew up, you mean?” Chase winked and his brother chuckled.

Both men knew Roman had fought long and hard until he concluded that marrying Charlotte wouldn’t mean giving up his foreign-correspondent lifestyle, merely trading it in for something more fulfilling. Now he had a job with the Washington Post as an op-ed columnist, a wife, and a family.

“You have no idea what you’re missing,” Roman said, not missing a beat. “A woman to come home to, a warm body in bed, and someone who loves you unconditionally.”

Like religious fanatics, both Roman and Rick, his middle sibling who’d also recently gotten hitched, had begun to preach the benefits of marriage. Chase wasn’t buying it. “Trust me, I can live without it, thank you very much. If I get that lonely, I’ll find myself a dog.”

His dreams didn’t include a wife and family. His brothers, as much as he loved them, had been a handful to raise. He didn’t need little rugrats of his own. From the time he’d turned eighteen and his father had unexpectedly passed away, Chase had been the male parent and role model. He’d taken over as publisher of the Yorkshire Falls Gazette and helped his mother raise his brothers—both jobs he’d never resented. Chase was not one to look back. And now, at thirty-seven, he was free to move on with a life of his own and grasp the dreams he’d put on hold. Starting with this trip to Washington.

He walked around a slow-moving couple and headed for the sign marked PARKINGGARAGE. He glanced at Roman. The dim-witted gaze hadn’t dulled and Chase grinned. “I guess I can call Mom and tell her you’re strutting around like a proud papa.”

“Don’t bother,” Roman said, falling into step beside him. “When we’re not in Yorkshire Falls, she checks in once a day with Charlotte by phone.”

Chase nodded. That was his mother, Raina, meddling and proud of it. “Well, I couldn’t be happier for you.” He patted his brother on the back.

“And I’m glad you’ve left the paper in someone else’s hands and decided to put yourself first for once.”

Chase answered Roman with a grunt. After all, the kid was right. Not once in the years since he’d taken over had he abdicated responsibility for the Gazette .

“The car’s parked in the lot.” Roman gestured in the direction they needed to go and Chase followed, nearly tripping over a young kid who’d decided to play tag.

“Thanks for picking me up,” Chase said, noticing that the wayward kid had been corralled by his parents. Roman and Rick had been eleven and fifteen, respectively, when their dad passed away. They’d been old enough to take care of themselves and Chase hadn’t had to deal with their toddler years. Thank Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

God. Their late teens had been tough enough.

“How’s Mom?” Roman asked.

“What do you mean?”

“Her . . . ah . . . health.”

“Stuttering for a reason?” he asked.

Roman picked up his pace but remained silent. Chase could almost see his brother’s brain churning to come up with a reply. A few months ago, Chase had rushed his mother to the emergency room with chest pains. Later, she’d told her sons she’d been diagnosed with a serious heart condition. Though they’d spoken to the doctor, confidentiality had prevented them from finding out anything more than what Raina had told them. Her three sons had danced around her bedside, making sure she took care of herself. Since she’d curtailed all activity, Chase hadn’t thought to question the diagnosis further, until he began to notice inconsistencies in his mother’s behavior. Too much color in her cheeks for someone with a weak heart. Too much swigging of antacids. The more recent prescription drug to treat gastric reflux, which if left untreated could have severe consequences. And running up and down the stairs when she thought she wouldn’t be caught.

As a newspaperman with damn good instincts, he began to suspect blatant manipulation. He also suspected his brothers, who seemed less concerned with their mother’s health lately, knew something he didn’t.

“Rick and I need to talk to you,” Roman said.

“About Mom’s fake heart condition?”

Roman stopped in his tracks, causing one woman to nearly bump into him and a man to dart around him, cursing as he passed. “You know?”

Chase nodded. “I do now.”

“Shit.” Roman met his gaze. “We were going to tell you.”

Chase ran a hand through his hair and groaned. He didn’t give a damn that they were in the middle of the airport blocking pedestrian traffic. He’d been itching to confront Roman on this and was damn glad to have it off his chest. “Any reason I was left out?”

“I discovered the truth just before Charlotte and I got together for good. Rick figured things out more recently. If he could’ve come to D.C., we’d have told you this weekend.” He held his hands out in front of him. “What can I say?”

“You don’t owe me an explanation. Mom does.”

Roman raised an eyebrow. “You don’t know why she faked being sick?”

“Explanation’s the wrong word. I know she did it because she wanted grandkids. She wanted us to feel so bad we’d do her bidding. I get that. But she damn well owes us all an apology.”

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“If it makes you feel any better, her antics have seriously curtailed her social life. She and Eric haven’t been able to go dancing, date, do any of the things she’d like to do.”

“Small consolation.” Chase rolled his shoulders to release the tension. “What do you say we forget about the family problems this weekend and just have fun?”

“Sounds good to me. We’ll get you settled at the hotel, have dinner with Charlotte, and tomorrow you’ll get your first taste of D.C. politics. Let’s get the hell out of here.”

“No argument from me.”

Roman started for the elevators leading to the parking garage and Chase joined him. “I’m not surprised Senator Carlisle’s going to run for vice president,” Chase said of the story that brought him to town.

Roman nodded. “Me neither. The man’s political perfection, even on a second marriage.”

Fortunately for Chase, Jacqueline Carlisle, the senator’s deceased wife, was born and raised in Yorkshire Falls, giving Chase the link to his hometown that led him to D.C. “With the current V.P. too old and unwilling to run again, our president needs a newer model. Someone with shine and polish.”

“U.S. senator Michael Carlisle from New York,” Roman said.

“Yep. I did research on the man. After Jacqueline, the first wife, died, Carlisle married her college roommate and best friend. Madeline Carlisle raised the senator’s first daughter, Sloane, then later Madeline and the senator had twins, Eden and Dawne.” Political perfection, as Roman had said.

“Ever see photos of the senator’s oldest daughter?”

Chase shook his head. “Just a glimpse of the twins or a grainy background shot. Why?”

Roman laughed. “I just think you’ll like what you see. Elevator’s this way.” He pointed left.

“From a professional standpoint, I like everything about the Carlisles.” Because barring scandal or stupidity, the high-profile, good-looking senator was on his way to the presidency. And Chase intended to use his local connection to make one helluva journalistic splash.

Roman laughed. “You do realize that when I asked about Carlisle’s daughter, I wasn’t talking about work?” He rolled his eyes. “Of course not. You’re always on top of things, always the professional.” He sobered. “You know, I learned from you.”

The pride in his voice made Chase feel like a fraud. Roman had accomplished more in his lifetime than Chase ever had.

“And you’re right,” Roman said, oblivious to Chase’s inner thoughts. “This story gives you the perfect opportunity to break out of small-town coverage. With the right angle, you could get picked up by one of the bigger papers.”

At his brother’s words, Chase’s adrenaline began pumping in a way he couldn’t remember experiencing, not since he’d stood at his father’s funeral and buried his dreams. But patience and family loyalty had paid off. Chase’s time had finally come.

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The elevator doors slid open and they stepped inside. “It just so happens, I have that right angle. The one that’ll put you ahead of the other guys following Carlisle’s scent. Want to know what I didn’t tell you on the phone?” Roman asked.

“Sure.” Chase dropped his duffel to the floor and glanced at his brother, his body humming with anticipation.

“Charlotte is friendly with Madeline Carlisle. She was a customer in her lingerie store here in D.C., but they’ve become friends. Good friends. Madeline doesn’t give many interviews, but I can get you an exclusive, one-on-one with the senator’s wife.”

Roman’s eyes gleamed with excitement and Chase’s anticipation heightened, the thrill of a big story tantalizing him, arousing and heightening all his instincts. “Roman?”

His brother glanced up. “Yeah?”

Chase wasn’t a man comfortable or good at expressing his feelings. His brothers were used to his long silences. They understood him better than anyone. He inclined his head. “Thanks.”

Roman studied him through hooded eyes. “I’d say I owe you this one, but you’d probably haul off and deck me. Let’s just say you’re damn good, you deserve it, and leave it at that.”

Chase nodded. “Fine by me.”

“Last thing,” Roman said as the elevator door reopened and the dark parking garage appeared. “D.C.

isn’t just good for political intrigue. It’s got its share of willing women as well.”

Chase frowned. “I thought you were happily married.”

“I am. But you, big brother, aren’t.”

Sloane Carlisle attempted to pair her beloved fuchsia minidress with a staid black jacket, then cringed at the result. A Betsey Johnson original was meant to be seen, not covered. With regret, she relegated the outfit to the back of her closet along with the rest of her retro wear. She couldn’t possibly put on such an outrageous color, short skirt, or bared-back halter. Not tomorrow, the day her senator father would announce his decision to accept the presidential candidate’s offer to be his running mate in the next election.

She sighed and pulled out a powder blue Chanel suit and laid it on her bed. Though not her preference, the conservative choice was much more appropriate for Senator Carlisle’s oldest daughter. Although Sloane often felt like the odd sibling out in a political family that enjoyed the spotlight, she understood the necessity for thinking before she dressed, spoke, or acted, just in case the press was sniffing out a story.

And Sloane always performed as her family expected.

Twenty minutes later and half an hour early, she stood outside her father’s hotel suite. Her parents had set up temporary residence in the D.C. hotel, leaving their home in New York State behind. And now they planned one last intimate family gathering before the media frenzy began.

She was about to knock when the sound of angry whispers carried toward her.

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“I will not stand by and see twenty years of hard work disintegrate before my eyes.” She recognized the voice of Franklin Page, her father’s campaign manager, right-hand man, and longtime friend.

Frank frequently overreacted in order to prevent a crisis, and his bellowing didn’t frighten her now. She raised her hand to knock on the door, which had been left open a sliver, when Frank’s assistant, Robert Stone, spoke, preventing her from intruding.

“You say this Samson man claims to be Sloane’s father?” He snorted, his disbelief evident.

“He more than claims.”

Sloane sucked in a startled breath and clenched her fists. His words couldn’t possibly be true.

Jacqueline and Michael Carlisle were her biological parents. She had no reason to believe otherwise. But her stomach rolled and nausea threatened.

“Does he have proof?” Robert asked in a voice so low Sloane had to strain to hear and she missed Frank’s reply.

“Doesn’t need any. Michael verified it.” Frank spoke, this time loud enough for her to hear. “He just refuses to act in his own best interest and do anything about this Samson person.” A brief pause followed. “Dammit, don’t you know better than to leave the door open? Michael and Madeline will be back from shopping any minute. He can’t hear what we have planned.”

“Which is?”

“Give us some privacy and I’ll explain everything. This man Samson is a threat to the campaign. And any threat has to be eliminated.”

Frank bellowed, but he never made idle threats. Sloane swallowed hard just as the door slammed shut in her face, leaving her on the outside of her father’s suite and, if Frank’s words were true, on the outside of her own life.

By the time dinner finally ended, Chase had had more of his brother and sister-in-law’s matrimonial happiness than he could stomach in one sitting. While Roman took a tired Charlotte home, Chase decided to check out the D.C. nightlife and the singles scene. After some asking around, he found the perfect hole-in-the-wall bar around the corner from his hotel where he could kick back and relax.

He ordered a Miller Genuine Draft and took in the scenery, which consisted of a pool table, a small, scarred dance floor, varied beer signs hanging on old paneled walls, and not much else. Until the door opened and she walked inside, a vision in a dress so pink, so short, so bare, it ought to be illegal.

No matter what his brother thought, Chase wasn’t a monk. He’d just kept his social life discreet in deference to his fatherlike status, and over the years, the habit stuck. Most recently he’d hooked up with Cindy Dixon, who lived in Hampshire, the next town over. They were friends who’d begun sleeping together when the whim struck, neither wanting to be indiscriminate in this day and age. The arrangement satisfied Chase physically, but no longer inspired him, so he wasn’t surprised when this sexy siren captured his attention.

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Russet-colored hair cascaded past her shoulders in thick waves, making him itch to run his fingers through the unruly strands. Chase tightened his grip around the bottle and let out a slow groan. One glance and he wanted to know her. All of her.

“She’s a hot number, all right.” The bartender swiped the counter down with his rag. “Don’t think I’ve seen her in here before. I’d remember if I had.”

Chase wouldn’t be forgetting her anytime soon. The combination of sultry sexiness in her appearance and the inherent vulnerability in her expression as she settled in beside him made one heck of an impression.

“What can I get you?” the bartender asked, leaning across the expanse of the bar, too close in Chase’s biased opinion.

“Hmm.” She pursed her lips as she thought. “Scotch straight up.”

Chase cocked an eyebrow, surprised. He’d have voted for a cosmopolitan or a white-wine spritzer.

“You sure about that?” the bartender asked. “A big drink like that doesn’t mix well with a little thing like you.”

She squared her shoulders, clearly offended. “Last I heard, the customer was always right,” she said in a haughty tone more due a blue blood or politician than the sprite she appeared to be.

Chase grinned. Obviously, he could add gumption to her list of attributes.

“It’s your choice,” the bartender replied. “Just don’t say I didn’t warn you when I have to confiscate your car keys.”

“Then it’s a good thing I took the Metro,” she shot back.

“Point, to the lady.” Chase laughed.

“Thank you,” she said without bothering to look his way.

The bartender placed the glass filled with amber liquid in front of her. “Remember, I warned you.” He headed for a new round of customers at the end of the bar.

She stared at the contents a moment before lifting the glass for an experimental sniff and wrinkled her nose. “Still smells as vile as the last time I tasted it,” she said to herself.

Chase laughed. Again. Twice in a matter of minutes. A record for him. A testament to the staid life he lived and a tribute to this woman’s effect on him. He was beyond intrigued. “Then why order it?” he asked her.

“Heavy-duty stuff for a heavy-duty night.” She shrugged but didn’t lift her stare from the glass.

Chase wasn’t insulted. Her preoccupation was obvious and from her words, so was her pain.

“Bartender? Give me the same,” Chase said when the other man glanced over.

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“What are you doing?” she asked, surprised.

“Joining you. It’s unhealthy to drink alone.” She looked his way at last and a burst of raw sexual energy exploded inside him, knocking him off balance.

Apparently, he wasn’t alone because gratitude and a helluva lot more flickered in her golden gaze. He thought he’d been prepared, but it had been too damn long since he’d felt anything beyond the ordinary for any woman or any thing. Since stepping off the plane in D.C. a few short hours ago, the world had opened up for him, offering myriad possibilities. He wanted her to be one of them.

“Here you go, buddy.” The bartender slid the glass Chase’s way. “She just became your responsibility,”

he said, and walked off to help the thickening crowd.

She flicked a long strand of copper hair back off her shoulder. “I can take care of myself.”

“I’m sure you can.” He raised his glass, waiting while she did the same. “Cheers.”

She inclined her head. “Cheers. Wait. It’s proper to toast before drinking, and I always do the proper thing. To . . .” She paused, nibbling on her full lower lip.

His mouth watered, since he wanted nothing more than to suck that luscious, full pout into his mouth and taste her. “To?” he prompted.

“Life’s dirty secrets.” She clinked her glass against his.

The sound echoed inside him as did the raw anguish he sensed inside her. “I’m a good listener,” he said, then mentally kicked himself. He wasn’t looking to be her friend, when he’d rather be her lover.

Instant attraction, instant lust. He’d never experienced the surge quite so strongly before. He wasn’t about to walk away from it now. Not on the night that represented the beginning of his new life. To hell with his usual sense of caution. It was time to leave the noble Chase Chandler behind and act on his desires.

“Thanks, but . . . I’d rather not talk.” The flickering in her gaze told him she desired something more.

Something from him.

Something he was all too willing to give.

Sloane stared into the stranger’s seductive blue eyes. A woman could get lost in that serious, intent gaze.

The man had a hidden fire deep inside him, something akin to what burned inside her. Dying to escape.

Tonight. And her stomach churned with possibilities.

She lifted the butterscotch-colored liquid to her lips, taking a sip, never breaking eye contact. Because she’d had scotch with her roommate at school, she was prepared for the distinctive taste and the burning sensation going down. Warmth flowed through her veins, due more to his stare than the fiery liquor.

He raised his glass and matched her drink, a sexy smile curving his lips. She’d said she didn’t want to talk. Obviously, he respected her wishes. She liked that about him.

His passionate stare held on to hers. She searched the blue depths as if they held the secrets to life. They didn’t, of course. Those were held by the adults who withheld information from their children. She didn’t Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

doubt Michael Carlisle’s motive. It was hard to think of him as her father now. It was just as hard not to.

As any parent does, he’d always claimed to act in his girls’ best interests. But he’d screwed up this time because Sloane wasn’t one of his girls. And the decision not to tell her about her parentage shouldn’t have been his to make. She wondered what the media would think if they knew the perfect senator lived a lie.

She nearly laughed aloud. Sloane Carlisle lived a lie. Hell, Sloane was the lie. As a result, she didn’t know who she was or where she fit in. She’d never known. At least now she understood why.

Why she wanted to run free, when her family was content with the restrictive boundaries imposed by the press and, by this time tomorrow, the Secret Service.

Why she hated being forced to conform in dress and personality, while her stepmother, sisters, and father reveled in formal attire and convention.

Sloane was different because she wasn’t one of them. She didn’t know who she was and, for tonight, she didn’t care. There had always been a wanton woman inside her, and she wanted to set the long-repressed Sloane free.

“I’ve always thought talking’s overrated,” the stranger said at last.

“Me too.” Tomorrow she wouldn’t agree. But tonight she wanted to forget.

She deliberately brushed her arm against his. The electricity was scorching, reaching into the pit of her stomach while arousing vibrations beckoned. He leaned close. A whisper breath away. Within kissing distance, making her want to let go of her inhibitions.

Sloane Carlisle had never so much as stepped outside the bounds of propriety. She dated men she knew, men her family approved of, and she didn’t sleep with strangers.

But she’d always wanted to test the unknown waters. Stay out past curfew. Approach this sexy man and take her chances.

And since his rough, gravelly voice set off white-hot arrows of fire inside her, she intended to take advantage of the desire licking at her veins. She was primed for this adventure.

She inhaled deeply. His musky male scent mixed intoxicatingly with the hint of liquor on his breath and she licked her lips, imagining she was tasting his.

His eyes darkened with banked arousal. “So we’re on the same page?” he asked.

She couldn’t mistake his meaning. Didn’t want to. She placed her hand over his, lacing her fingertips through his strong, lean fingers, feeling his roughened skin.

“Word for word,” she promised, barely recognizing the rough timbre of her voice.

He rose, reached into his pocket, peeled off a single bill, and left a twenty on the bar to cover their drinks. “My hotel’s around the corner.”

So he was a tourist. Even better. She wouldn’t have to risk running into him again after tonight. She rose, Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

leaving her drink behind.

She didn’t need the alcohol for courage. Sloane Whatever-Her-Last-Name-Really-Was was 100

percent behind this decision. It was about time she acted on true instinct and rebelled against all the things in her life that had constrained her.

She placed her hand inside his. Tomorrow she’d return to the real world. Tonight was about indulging in the fantasies she’d only dreamed of when she thought she was Senator Carlisle’s firstborn daughter.

CHAPTER TWO

Sloane had plenty of time to back out on the walk to the hotel, but she hadn’t come this far to change her mind now. His hand held hers tight, and as they made their way into the lobby, she realized no one was looking their way. Without her famous parents by her side, no one in D.C. ever gave her a second glance.

He paused, turning toward her. In his eyes, she saw the same desire pulsing inside her. “I need to stop by the front desk.” He left her for a moment to speak to the clerk, then joined her once more.

Her heart pounded hard in her chest as they entered the elevator and the doors closed behind them.

His intense gaze met hers. “I didn’t go out tonight looking for this, but”—he shrugged as if unsure how to continue—“I’m glad I ran into you.”

She smiled, understanding what he meant. She hadn’t come to the bar looking for a one-night stand, merely to forget her troubles or at least drown them for a little while. But one look into his eyes and she’d been captivated.

For her, the night could have had no other ending. “I wasn’t on any kind of manhunt myself.” She let out a self-conscious laugh. “But I’m glad I found you too.”

He braced one hand against the wall above her shoulder. He was tall, his presence overpowering, and yet his calm demeanor and slow, easy manner made her feel comfortable. Safe. And mesmerized by those gorgeous blue eyes, she was able to forget everything but him. And that, Sloane realized, was her main objective.

“I think it’s about time we exchange first names.” A persuasive smile tilted his lips.

First names. She could handle that, she thought, until she realized Sloane was too distinctive, too recognizable in Washington, since her father was planning to put his hat in the proverbial ring. “Faith,” she said, using her middle name.

“Pretty,” he said in a gruff voice. He twirled a strand of hair around his finger, the light tug against her scalp curiously arousing. “I’m Chase.” She grinned. “It suits you. Don’t ask me why.”

Laughing, he wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her close. His masculine scent surrounded her, a potent aphrodisiac. His head dipped lower, but before he could make a move, the elevator doors glided open, leaving her lips tingling, waiting for the touch of the unknown.

Grasping her hand, he led her to his room, and after pulling out his card key, he let them into a suite. The Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

bedroom was obviously beyond the open door in the corner. Although the living area smelled and looked like an impersonal hotel room, when he stepped toward her, he dispelled the cold. He pulled her into his arms. With his molten gaze and overpowering physical presence, he cradled her in intense heat.

His eyes held hers as he lowered his head and kissed her for the first time. His lips were gentle yet firm, no hesitancy or insecurity in this man’s touch. Though a stranger, he acted as an anchor during this storm in her life. He enabled her to relax and feel safe, let her grab onto him and accept everything he offered.

She kissed him back, giving herself in return.

His hands came to rest on her cheeks, holding her head so he could devour her lips. He nibbled, drawing her lower lip into his mouth and deepening the kiss with broad sweeps of his tongue. With each successive stroke, fire burned stronger in her belly and the urge to touch him grew. She pulled his shirt from the waistband of his jeans and rested her hands against his heated skin.

He exhaled on a low groan, sliding his hands through her hair and trailing moist, damp kisses down her cheek, lingering against her throat. He was blocking out everything, all the disbelief, the pain, the hurt, and the anguish of today, until she could think of nothing but him. Her nipples puckered and her breasts grew heavy, while between her legs, slick moisture dampened her panties.

She tilted her head back to give him greater access to her throat and he sucked harder on her sensitive flesh, drawing a direct connection to more aroused body parts. A wash of sensation rushed over her and she gripped his waist harder in response.

“Oh yes.” As if from a distance, she heard her voice, raw, hoarse, and full of desire.

“You like?” he asked.

She forced her heavy eyelids open to meet his hot stare. “Rhetorical question, right?”

A seductive grin lifted his lips and he dipped his head once more, this time to soothe the sensitive flesh of her neck with his tongue.

“Mmm.” The man definitely had a way about him, Sloane thought.

“Faith.”

It took her a moment to register that he was talking to her. “Yes?”

“Nothing. I just like the sound of your name.”

She smiled, wishing he were calling her by her real name; wishing his rough voice would call out Sloane as he came inside her. Emboldened by the byplay between them, she raked her fingernails higher, rasping against his chest and hair-roughened skin. “I hope you like that too.”

Before he could reply, a loud knock interrupted them. “I’ve got it.” He strode to the door like the confident male he was, heedless of his untucked shirt or disheveled hair. He opened it a crack, and Sloane realized he was looking out for her privacy.

She appreciated his chivalry, considering this didn’t mean anything more to him than a one-night stand.

“I’ll take it,” she heard him say. Then he turned back toward her, pushing a room service tray into the Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

room, and kicked the door closed behind him.

“What’s that?” she asked, taking in the two glasses and the champagne bottle in an ice bucket.

“You didn’t strike me as the type of woman who indulges in one-night stands very often. So I wanted to make this . . . more special.” To her surprise, a red flush rose to his cheeks.

Embarrassment. He’d gone out of his way to make this nice for her and he was embarrassed by the gesture. She stepped forward, more confident in her stride. “What makes you think this isn’t my normal MO?” she asked, truly curious.

“It’s a hunch and I’m usually accurate. Because despite the sexy dress, your speech is refined, your expression was sometimes hesitant, and by the look in those eyes, you’re running from some deep, dark secret. It could be a lousy day, a lost job, but you’re looking to get away from it all. You just don’t jump into bed with strange men every day. I’d stake my life on it,” he said with all the confidence of a cocky male.

“All this from one look?”

He grinned. “I’m a journalist. Observation is my specialty. What’s yours?”

“Interior design,” she said on autopilot, unable to think about anything except this revelation.

A reporter of any kind could wreak havoc with her father’s presidential plans, and despite the hurt and betrayal lingering inside her, she loved the man. All the more reason to keep her real name from Chase.

She inched forward on her high heels. “You must be very good at your job because you’re right. This isn’t an everyday occurrence,” she admitted. One trick she’d learned from her parents was to feed reporters as much truth as possible so as not to make them more wary.

“I like being right.”

She laughed. “Which makes you a typical man.”

“Right now I’d settle for being your man. Drink?” He gestured to the champagne with a sweep of his hand.

His thoughtfulness still pleased her. “I’d rather pick up where we left off and save the champagne till later.” More honesty, Sloane thought. She wanted him as much now if not more than before.

Grabbing her hand, he walked to the oversize chair in the corner and sat down. “Join me.” He tugged on her hand, his meaning clear.

She drew a deep breath and settled one knee on either side of his thighs as she lowered herself to sit on his lap. The bulge in his jeans was obvious, pulsing deliciously between her legs, and his eyes were dilated with restrained need. Sloane didn’t want or need the restraint.

She locked her arms around his neck. “Kiss me, Chase. Make me forget,” she murmured.

“Make you forget what?”

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She didn’t want to answer. She wanted him to kiss her instead, so she leaned forward and locked her lips solidly against his.

But when she shifted in his lap and her pelvis came into intimate contact with his groin, kissing became secondary to overwhelming desire. He stood with her in his arms, his mouth never leaving hers, and he strode into the bedroom. Her heart thudded hard, waves rushing over and around her, as anticipation and need grew.

He placed her on the bed and she came to her knees. They worked together, first unbuttoning his shirt and tossing it aside, letting her revel in his muscular chest. Reaching behind her, he pulled the tie on her halter top, letting it fall forward, revealing her bare breasts. She should have been embarrassed, but his hungry gaze devoured her, and a low growl of appreciation rose in his throat, leaving no doubt he liked what he saw. Then his hands cupped her breasts, her nipples pressing deeply into his palms.

Heated sensations rippled through her and she exhaled a low groan. He reached for the waistband of her skirt at the same time she grabbed for the button on his jeans; between them, they shed their clothing along with their inhibitions.

Sloane found her back propped against the pillows, Chase straddling her waist, one hand holding hers above her head. While he locked her in an erotic position, his touch was gentle and his grip was loose enough that she could break his hold if she wanted to. She didn’t.

Her position aroused her too much and she liked the way he studied her, as if he could read her mind and provide every intimate touch she desired.

“I want to be inside you.” His hard length rubbing against her stomach proved his words.

“Go for it,” she said, and her hips jerked upward of their own volition as moisture slickened her thighs and a tide of arousal rose inside her.

“Not until I protect you.”

That took her off guard. “Something I need protection from?” she asked lightly. She’d been so caught up in wanting to block out the painful truth she’d learned today, she hadn’t been thinking clearly. “I’m on the pill, but . . .”

“Hell, honey, with the life I’ve lived, you have nothing to worry about. I just believe in safety first and kids never.” He slid off the bed and strode toward the bathroom.

The knot in her stomach eased. She didn’t know why, had no reason to trust, but she believed him. And once again, she appreciated his gallantry during a one-night stand. After all, many guys wouldn’t care what they left behind. Chase did. There was something different about this man. Something caring and uniquely special, she thought.

He returned as quickly as he’d left, and she couldn’t help but admire his physique, the broad shoulders, narrow waist, and the other impressive parts of him standing at attention. No longer distracted by her thoughts, she was now completely focused once more. How could she not be with such a gorgeous man standing over her?

No guy had ever incited such overwhelming, instant lust. Then again, no man had ever looked at her as if he couldn’t get enough. Chase did.

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He held the foil packet in his hand and quickly took care of protection; then he came over to her and grinned, that sexy, intense smile causing her to catch her breath.

“Enough waiting, don’t you think?”

She laughed, even as her body burned, on fire with wanting him. “More than enough,” she agreed.

With a low growl, he kissed her. His mouth was hot and greedy and his hands were busy as he nudged her legs apart and poised himself intimately against her. Entry and fulfillment were so very close, but instead of thrusting, he reached down with his hands.

His long fingers dipped inside her, arousing her with his talented touch. She moaned, arching her hips and drawing him in deeper, forcing her muscles to contract around his finger, but it wasn’t enough. She wanted something more.

He must have understood because he withdrew, and then he finally spread her thighs and drove himself deep with one long, satiny stroke. He filled her and immediately brought her close to the edge of climaxing.

So hard, so fast, and he felt so right. She closed her eyes as he withdrew, letting her feel every hard and slick ridge of him before pumping inside her again. She matched his rhythm quickly, the synchronization between them amazing, almost as if they’d been together like this before.

“Sweet heaven,” Chase muttered. No woman should feel this good. Especially not one he just met, one who didn’t know his likes or his dislikes. Yet, she knew all the right moves to turn him on. He saw so much in those green eyes of hers. They’d connected and he felt it in her body, in every slick inch he stroked inside her.

She was feminine and warm where skin touched skin, her nipples hard and arousing against his chest.

She met him thrust for thrust, bringing him higher each time their bodies met and he burned with the need to let go. But not alone. He wanted them to be together when they found that ultimate burst of raw sexual satisfaction. Reaching between them, he slid his finger between her moist folds to increase the pressure and make her come.

He was rewarded by a shuddering groan and she rolled her hips, seeking to deepen the stimulating tension. Her thighs were clenched, her muscles cushioning him in wet heat. With each successive thrust, he was on edge himself, holding back only by sheer force of will.

“Chase.”

His name on her lips surprised him. For as intimate as they’d been, as close as he felt, talking had been minimal. He forced his heavy eyelids open.

Dilated green eyes met his. “Roll over.”

His eyes opened wide. “What?”

“After today, I need to be in control,” she explained as she nudged him with her body, and together they flipped positions until he was flat on his back while she straddled his thighs. A shudder racked her body as she took him deeper than he’d been before. “Oh, God.”

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He swallowed hard because he felt it too, but along with sensation came knowledge. For her, tonight was about so much more than easy sex. She was running from something and using him to forget. But his body wasn’t about to give him time to ask questions.

And with her gorgeous face, and full breasts poised over him, he wasn’t about to argue. “Whatever works for you,” he told her.

A flash of gratitude flickered over her features, and then, thankfully, she started to move, rocking her hips and milking him with her inner muscles until the tidal wave started to rise once more. Without warning, she stretched over him, kissing him full on the lips while her hips continued a systematic, gyrating movement. One that kept up the tension and let it build higher as her feminine mound pressed intimately against him, working him in a way he’d never felt before.

With each thrust of her pelvis grinding downward, she let out a soft, arousing moan. She was close and so was he, and she kept up the insistent pressure, bringing him closer and closer until his world imploded.

Now he had but one focus: this woman and the intense sensations she pulled from him as her body continued to milk him, long after he’d come.

Even as he finally started his slow descent back to reality, she continued to shudder above him in one long, continual climax. Minutes later, Chase’s breathing returned to a slower, more manageable rhythm.

So did his thoughts. He was thirty-seven years old and he’d never had that kind of mind-blowing sex with any woman ever before.

Never. And he needed a minute to absorb the feeling.

But before he could think, she rolled over and started to rise, taking him completely by surprise.

“Wait.” He reached out, but his hand merely skimmed her bare back. “What’s the rush?”

She turned, but he couldn’t see more than her mass of tangled hair and elegant profile. “I thought you’d want me to go.”

She let out a laugh that was so obviously forced, it touched something inside him.

“This way we could avoid the awkward morning after,” she said by way of explanation.

He understood why she’d take the easy way, but he wasn’t finished with her just yet. And he hoped she wasn’t finished wanting him. “I’d rather you stay.” He rose onto his elbow and ran a finger down her spine. “If that’s what you want.”

She pivoted back to him, shock and confusion evident in her eyes and her open expression. He understood since he felt it all too.

“This is crazy,” she said.

“I agree.” He ran a hand through his hair and waited.

“I’ll stay,” she said at last.

“Good.” He excused himself for a quick trip to the bathroom, and when he returned, he pulled her into Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

his arms.

“Sometimes crazy’s good, I guess.” She laughed and her body vibrated, warm and delicious, against him.

He rested his cheek against her long hair, inhaling the fragrant strands. “I needed crazy tonight. Up till now, my life has always been predictable.” He thought about the same routine he’d followed for the last nineteen years. “Expected,” he continued, recalling raising his siblings and providing the perfect example for them. “And mostly lived for others.”

“Sounds pretty much like my life,” she murmured.

He brushed her unruly hair off his face and let her snuggle deeper into him. He didn’t want to think how bizarre it was that he wanted to spend the night holding on to this soft, willing female. For once, he only wanted to do what felt right for him. “I promised myself tonight was the start of a new life. One I’d live only for me.”

She sighed. “That sounds wonderful.”

“So why don’t you live by my example?” he asked. Chase hadn’t a clue what was bothering her or dragging her down, but like him, she’d obviously allowed herself to be free tonight. She shouldn’t go back to a life of confinement, or one lived for others.

“I have people relying on me,” she said drowsily. “Even if my entire life has been a lie, I’ll still be expected to do the right thing.” Her voice grew sleepier as she spoke.

His curiosity was aroused. Not just because he was a reporter and ambiguous statements led to questions, but because she intrigued him. Too much. He was just beginning his search for fulfillment. He didn’t need someone else’s problems or needs weighing on him. He’d had too much of that in his life and he was too prone to doing right by others. It seemed to be the Chandler way.

So it was a damn good thing they’d be going their separate ways come the morning, he thought, drifting off himself.

The soft sound of crying woke Chase from a deep, sated sleep. It took him a minute to get his bearings, and when he did, he realized he was in a dark hotel room in D.C. with a woman he’d met the night before. A woman who’d blown him away with an incredible sexual encounter. One he’d begged to stay when she’d tried to leave.

An uncomfortable feeling of guilt and unease tore at him. She’d rolled to the far end of the bed and he reached out to touch her shoulder. “Regrets?” he asked her. Because shockingly, he had none.

“About last night? No. About my life and the way I’ve lived it? Oh yes.”

The vise clamping around his heart loosened. Regrets and recriminations were something he didn’t want to deal with. “There’s not much you can do about the past except put it behind you and go forward.”

She exhaled hard. “Wise words.”

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“What can I say? I’m a wise guy.”

“Funny, but you struck me as more of a straight shooter.”

He caught her joke and chuckled. “Think you can get back to sleep?”

“If you rub my back, maybe.”

She wiggled toward him and he did as she asked, massaging the tense muscles in her shoulders.

“Mmm.”

He nuzzled the soft, fragrant skin at her neck. She smelled and tasted delicious. “I was about to say the same thing.”

Pulling himself up, he lay over her, his stomach aligned with her back, his groin settled between her buttocks. She let out a purr of contentment mingled with satisfaction and he hardened in an instant.

“I know what would really help me sleep,” she said, wriggling her hips beneath him, before clenching her legs, capturing his erection between them.

Her desire was obvious. “You want me to exhaust you, huh?”

“Oh yes.”

Chase didn’t need a second invitation. He reached for the condom he’d left on the nightstand earlier, just in case, and quickly sheathed himself before poising himself to enter her. “Like this, okay?” he asked, his face buried in the nape of her neck as he slowly entered her moist femininity.

“Oooh,” she said on a slow moan. “This is perfect.”

And it was. Chase didn’t understand it, this inherent trust and understanding between them, nor did he question it. He figured it had everything to do with his decision to live life for himself, and her decision to do the same, if only for one night.

After they’d sated their desire once more, she fell asleep beside him, hair sprawled on the pillow, completely relaxed. He’d done that for her. Just as she’d done something for him. She’d helped him take his first step in setting himself free of responsibility and constraint.

Tomorrow they’d part ways, but not before he ordered them room service, shared breakfast, and feasted with her, and on her, one last time.

But when he awoke, courtesy of the sun streaming through the windows, bathing the room in light, his visitor was gone. Chase rubbed a hand over his eyes, wondering if he’d imagined the entire affair.

But her scent lingered in the air and he’d woken up aroused, ready to reach for her again. He hadn’t imagined her or the incredible night they’d shared. She’d left him with a damn good memory to take with him as he went after his dreams and started his new life.

But a part of him was disappointed they didn’t have more time. That same part of him wished they’d met at a different point in his life, under other circumstances. If he were a different person and hadn’t had to

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raise his brothers, he wondered if they would have stood a chance. He pinched the bridge of his nose, lost in ridiculous thoughts.

“Snap out of it,” he muttered. As he rose and headed for a hot shower, he couldn’t shake her from his mind.

Recalling the first time she’d tried to slip out on him, Chase forced himself to laugh now. She’d managed to avoid the awkward morning after, after all.

CHAPTER ONE

Officer Rick Chandler brought his patrol car to a stop in front of a quiet house on Fulton Street and exited with caution. Yorkshire Falls was a small upstate New York town, population approximately 1,725. The crime rate was low in comparison to the big cities and folks possessed vivid imaginations.

Case in point, the last major crime spree had centered around a panty thief with Rick’s younger brother Roman as the town’s most popular, if absurd, suspect.

Lisa Burton, the woman who’d placed the 911 call this afternoon, was a middle school teacher not prone to exaggeration or fright and though Rick didn’t anticipate trouble now, he took nothing for granted. A preliminary check of the grounds told him everything was secure so he approached the front yard and strode up the bluestone steps. The door was shut tight and he knocked loudly. The shades on Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

the side window ruffled as wary eyes peered out.

“Police.” He announced his presence. The sound of unlatching locks followed until the door opened a crack. “It’s Officer Chandler,” he said, keeping his hand on his gun as an instinctive precautionary measure.

“Thank God.” He recognized the home owner’s voice. “I thought you’d never get here.”

Lisa’s breathless, husky tone didn’t come as a shock. For all her schoolteacher conservativism, Lisa, he’d learned, had the hots for him. She’d made sexual overtures before and though Rick didn’t want to think she’d call the police unnecessarily, her seductive voice had him clenching his jaw. “You reported a disturbance?” he asked.

The door swung open wide. He stepped inside—with caution at first—because she still hadn’t come out from behind the protection of the solid oak door.

“I reported a need for police presence.” She kicked the door closed behind him. “I reported a need for you.”

His gut told him there was no cause for procedural safeguards and he released his hold on his holstered gun. But he remained wary and as he inhaled, his instincts were proven right. A heavy perfumed odor surrounded him and every male defense mechanism he possessed kicked in. He coughed, gagging on what he assumed was meant to be a potent aphrodisiac. It was potent all right but the woman who’d made the phone call was doomed to disappointment. The only thing that was going to be turned on were the lights.

He hit the switch on the wall at the same time Lisa stepped into view. He ought to be surprised by her appearance but figured he was too jaded by recent events. The plain-looking schoolteacher had transformed herself into a daring dominatrix. From her thigh-high black leather boots to her fitted leather bustier, up to her wild, dark, kinky hair, her getup shouted take me now, on the floor, against the wall, it didn’t matter.

Rick shook his head. Though he already knew the answer, he asked anyway, “What the hell’s going on?”

She propped her shoulder against the wall and assumed a sultry pose. “That should be obvious by now.

You’ve turned down every ordinary woman’s offer in town, including mine. I’m about to change that.

Despite my day job and normal appearance, I can be most untraditional.” She crooked a red painted fingernail his way. “Come let me show you my props.”

A raised eyebrow was the most Rick could manage in response. Then he heaved a healthy sigh, certain of only one thing. His meddling mother, Raina, was behind Lisa’s continued, less-than-subtle attacks.

Raina had vested every woman with the notion that her middle son would settle down if only he found someone special, someone who’d keep him entertained. Lisa, like many other females in town, had obviously taken his mother’s words to heart. Though Raina was right in thinking Rick appreciated uniqueness, she was wrong believing he’d ever marry again, let alone have children. Given his past experience at the altar, his mother ought to know better.

Why put his heart on the line to be trampled when he could enjoy the vast array of women out there with no hurt involved? Though his playboy reputation was highly overrated, it was a fact he enjoyed women.

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Or he had until the Yorkshire Falls female population had launched their all-out attack on his bachelorhood.

“So are you ready to tie me up?” Lisa dangled a pair of fur-lined handcuffs his way.

Another time, another place, hell another woman and he might be interested in her charms. But with Lisa, the chemistry didn’t exist and he preferred her friendship to her feminine wiles. He folded his arms across his chest and told her what he’d said the last two times she’d propositioned him, though not as overtly as this. “Sorry. I’m not biting.”

She blinked, a sudden hint of vulnerability in her eyes. “That’s fine. I can do all the nibbling necessary for us both.” She smiled, baring her white teeth, her words dispelling any illusion of softness he thought he’d seen.

“Not now, Lisa.” He rubbed his aching temples. “To be honest, not ever.” The words didn’t come easily. Rick worried about her feelings despite her predatory actions. After all, his mother had raised him to be a gentleman. But he’d bet even Raina, for all her pushing, hadn’t anticipated how far the women of Yorkshire Falls would go to get his attention.

If Lisa favored leather over lace, she probably had a tough hide. Besides, she had to know with a blatant gesture like this, she was risking rejection. Just as he knew that if he softened toward her at all, he risked a repeat episode. It had happened before, not just with Lisa. Other women, other outrageous stunts. This was the third attempted seduction this week.

She shrugged and glanced away, obviously more fazed than she wanted to admit. Yet once again she recovered, this time by licking her tongue over glossed lips. “One day I will strike the right chord.”

He doubted it. Rick started for the door, but turned back. “You might want to take note of the fact that it’s illegal to call 911 unless you’re truly in distress.” He ought to take out a reminder ad in the paper, but why waste trees and ink when the women wouldn’t listen? Why should they when his determined mother wanted grandchildren and didn’t care which son provided one first.

“I’ll see you at the teacher DARE training program,” Lisa said before he shut the door behind him.

“Swell,” he muttered.

An hour later, his shift nearly over, Rick used the time to fill out a report, omitting select details of his last stop. He couldn’t see causing Lisa any trouble by reporting the incident as anything other than a false alarm. But he hoped this latest rejection had taught the teacher a new lesson about calling the police unnecessarily.

He picked up a rubber band and aimed it across the squad room. At one time he’d found his mother and her myriad women amusing, but no longer. He had to find a way to get them all to back off but damned if he knew how. He narrowed his gaze and fired away. The rubber band hit his target, a torn magazine photo of a sappy-looking bride and groom hanging against the backdrop of the dingy beige wall. “Bull’s-eye.”

“Better not let Mom see that.”

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Rick turned as Chase, his oldest brother, walked up behind him, joining him at his desk.

Chase laughed but Rick wasn’t amused. Raina’s determination was legendary. Not even her heart condition had slowed her down. It wasn’t enough that his mother had married off their youngest brother, Roman. No, now in her quest for grandchildren she’d set her sights on Rick.

Chase was the ultimate bachelor who’d already helped Raina raise his younger siblings after their father’s death twenty years ago. Having done his familial duty, he’d been exempt from most of their mother’s matchmaking schemes—so far.

Rick wasn’t as fortunate. “You’d think Mom had her hands too full with her renewed social life to bother with mine.”

After years of being a widow, his mother had begun dating. Weird term for a woman of her age, Rick thought. But that’s what she was doing, dating Dr. Eric Fallon. Her loneliness had been a concern to all three sons and Rick couldn’t be happier that she’d finally moved on. He’d just hoped she’d be too absorbed in her new life to bother digging into his.

Chase shrugged. “Mom’s never too busy to meddle. Look at what she’s juggling now: the good doctor, angling to get a baby from Roman and Charlotte,” he said, speaking of their youngest brother and his new wife. “And being director of your social life.” He picked up a pencil and twirled it between his palms.

Rick rolled his shoulders, trying to loosen the tightness from too much time spent on patrol. In their small town, hierarchy didn’t mean squat, and the guys all pitched in for shift duty.

“At least Eric’s keeping her busy,” Chase said.

“Not busy enough. Maybe it’s time to give her a job. You ought to offer her employment.”

“As what?” Chase’s tone didn’t hide his shock.

“Gossip columnist seems appropriate to me,” Rick cracked, getting a smile out of his brother too.

But Chase sobered quickly. “No way am I bringing her into the office. Next thing I know she’ll be interfering with my social life too.”

“What social life?” Rick asked with a grin. Chase was so damn private Rick couldn’t help but give his more serious sibling a hard time.

Chase shook his head. “The things you don’t know about me.” A wry smile twisted his lips as he folded his arms across his chest. “For a cop, you’re awfully dense.”

“Because you keep everything to yourself.”

“Exactly right.” Chase nodded, satisfaction glittering in his blue eyes. “I like my privacy so I vote we let Mom focus on your love life for a while longer.”

“Gee thanks.” Speaking of Raina reminded Rick of her meddling and took him back to his last stop of the day. “You seen Lisa Burton lately?” he asked his brother.

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“In Norman’s this morning, eating breakfast. Why?”

He shrugged. “Just wondering. I had a false alarm at her house this afternoon.”

Chase perked up, his journalistic instincts obviously kicking in. “What kind of false alarm?”

“The usual kind.” No point in telling Chase the school teacher was into S&M with her scrambled eggs now. She was probably embarrassed enough and Rick wasn’t the type to kiss and tell. Chase had taught him to respect women whether they’d earned it or not. “Unfounded noises outside.” He shrugged. “The place was secure.”

“Probably just an animal of some kind.”

Rick nodded. “Did she seem keyed up to you?”

Chase shook his head. “Not at all.”

“Good.”

“Speaking of dinner—” Chase rose from his seat.

“I didn’t.”

“Well I am. You ready to head over to Mom’s?”

Rick’s stomach grumbled, reminding him he was just as hungry as his brother.

“Sounds like a good plan to me. Let’s go.”

“Rick, wait.” Felicia, the on-call dispatcher, walked into the room. “There’s a woman in a vehicle stopped on Route 10 leading into town. Phillips came in late. Can you handle it while he’s briefed for his shift?”

Rick nodded. “Why not?” It would delay dealing with his mother and her pointed questions about his social life. He turned to his brother. “Tell Mom I’m sorry and I’ll be there as soon as possible.”

“I won’t mention that smirk on your face or the relief you’re obviously feeling at being given a reprieve.

But if she’s got a woman there waiting, you’re going to pay,” Chase said.

Felicia strode up to Chase, confident and feminine even in her blue uniform. “I get off in five minutes.

Take me with you to your mother’s and I’ll save you from her matchmaking clutches.” She batted her lashes over her hazel eyes.

Rick watched, amused. Felicia had a good heart and an even better body, all rounded curves and femininity beneath her clothes. A blind man couldn’t miss the fact that she was a knockout.

“So what do you say?” she asked Chase.

He grinned and lay an arm around Felicia’s shoulders, his fingers dangling precariously close to those curves Rick had noticed before.

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“Now you know I can’t take you home with me, sweetheart. Tongues would be wagging and by tomorrow we’d be front page of The Gazette, ” Chase said, speaking of his newspaper.

Felicia let out an exaggerated sigh. “You’re right. One night with the oldest Chandler and my reputation would be ruined.” She lay a hand on her forehead in an obviously dramatic gesture. “What was I thinking?” She laughed, then stood up straight, smoothing her blouse. “Besides, I have a date. We’d better let Rick get to that stranded car,” Felicia said. “See you around, Chase.”

“See you,” he said, then turned to Rick. “And you’d better hightail it over to Mom’s as soon as you can.”

Rick shook his head. “Don’t worry. I’m sure Mom considers home neutral territory. She wouldn’t set you up while she’s around to suffer the consequences.” He grabbed for his car keys.

“Where Mom’s concerned, I wouldn’t get too complacent,” Chase warned.

Rick acknowledged his brother had a damned good point when ten minutes later he realized he was on his way to another emergency call to rescue yet another damsel in distress. Based on prior experience, Rick had his doubts this was a routine stop, but rather a mother-initiated setup.

Despite the annoyance building inside him, he had to admit this time he was disappointed in the lack of creativity. Until now, the predicaments had been fresh innovative ways to get Officer Rick Chandler’s attention. Running out of gas, if that’s what had happened, ranked way down on the originality scale.

He drove to the outskirts of town and walked to where the driver of the fire-engine-red car awaited help. As he neared, he caught sight of frilly white lace that couldn’t be anything other than a wedding veil dangling over the door. He rolled his eyes heavenward. First a dominatrix and now a bride. The dress backed up his suspicion that he was probably in for a setup. Brides didn’t just happen through Yorkshire Falls and there was no wedding scheduled in town today. The nearest costume shop was located in Harrington, the next town over, and Rick wouldn’t be surprised if this woman had stopped there first.

Apparently she had more creativity than he’d given her credit for, but she hadn’t done her research.

Rick Chandler loved rescuing women but a bride of any kind rated last on his list. Last time he’d responded to a similar S.O.S., he’d been home from college and on the force about two years. One of his best friends and a girl he’d had deep feelings for, Jillian Frank, had dropped out of college because she’d gotten pregnant and her parents had thrown her out of the house. Rick had stepped in without thinking twice. He had those damn Chandler genes. Loyalty ran strong, the need to protect even stronger.

He’d started by giving Jillian a place to live but ended up marrying her too. He’d planned to give the baby a name and he’d provided Jillian with a home. He thought they’d be a family. Considering he’d always been attracted to her before she went away to school, doing a good deed for a friend hadn’t been too much of a hardship.

Falling in love had been a natural progression—for him. As they’d lived together during her pregnancy, he’d let down his guard and given his heart—only to have it trampled when the baby’s father returned a few weeks prior to her due date. His once-grateful wife walked out, leaving Rick with divorce papers and wiser for the experience.

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He’d decided then, he’d never again lose his heart, but he’d definitely have fun and enjoy his life. After all, he was a man who liked women. His brief marriage hadn’t changed that. Short of taking out a billboard to announce his intent to never wed again, he’d always made his feelings to the women he got involved with perfectly clear. This so-called bride might as well proposition a brick wall for all the response she’d get from Rick Chandler.