by Holly Jacobs
“Don’t believe it. There’s nothing in my heart. The sooner I get you situated, the sooner my life will get back on track.”
And on track—that singular, independent track he’d been on since his mother had died, leaving her sons in the care of various and ever-changing extended family—was right where he wanted to be.
He liked his life just the way it was. There was no room in it for Charlie Eaton—no room for anyone. Besides that, she deserved someone better than he was. She deserved a man who could laugh, who would treasure her. She deserved someone better than Daniel Ferguson Martin would ever be.
And he was going to see to it she got it.
“So let’s go shopping,” he said.
“That’s a phrase every woman dreams about having a man say to her.” Charlie chuckled. “And who am I to spit in every woman’s fantasy? Let’s go shopping.”
Charlie slid the aging Chevy Blazer into the garage. Dan assured her it still had some life left in it, and it was a car her bank account could live with.
Dan had been invaluable. He’d spent the day shopping with her, his quiet presence always at the fringe of her perception. No words of complaint . . . heck, no words at all. But despite his lack of exuberance, Charlie felt comfortable with him. He’d hauled bags, checked over her Blazer with care, and had treated her to lunch again, despite the fact she was almost solvent.
Though after today’s shopping, solvent was a relative term.
Twice Dan had touched her, both times by accident—both times he’d jumped as if he were burned.
Burned.
That’s was the closest analogy Charlie could come up with. Every time her skin came into contact with Dan’s, there was a burst of heat that threatened to consume her. Just being with him warmed her.
And that kiss . . .
Winslow’s kisses hadn’t managed to produce half the heat that Dan’s one gentle kiss had.
She pulled a group of plastic bags from the backseat. It was going to take her more than one trip to get all this stuff upstairs.
Charlie heard the sound of wheels on the long gravel drive. Her white knight was once again riding to her rescue. She was sure he would feel the chivalrous need to help her carry her bags upstairs, and who was she to deny Dan his knightly pleasures?
But it wasn’t Dan’s black Ford coming up the drive. It was a Porsche. A fire engine red Porsche 911.
Winslow.
Darn, darn, darn, Charlie silently cursed even as she let her shopping bags fall to the ground. The garage door was still open, so she had no hope of hiding.
Hiding? She was at fault because she’d been willing to marry him to keep the peace, but he had a share of the blame also.
He didn’t love her. She’d been convenient. Winslow had thought she was malleable. Heck, Charlie had thought she was.
They were both wrong.
She walked out of the garage as his car pulled to a halt. “Winslow.” Her voice was flat, devoid of emotion. Charlie almost didn’t recognize it as belonging to her. “What can I do for you?”
Standing there in his Armani suit, arms folded stiffly behind his back, Winslow gave the impression that he was a nineteenth-century nobleman talking to a recalcitrant peasant. A sudden flash of insight made Charlie realize that was always how he’d treated her, like someone beneath him.
“Do you realize what an embarrassment you caused my family and caused me?” he asked by way of a greeting.
“I can imagine you’re embarrassed and I’m sorry. You know that wasn’t my intent. I tried to tell you over and over again. You wouldn’t listen. And I’m at fault because I didn’t make you listen. And I thought I could go through with a wedding that I knew in my bones wasn’t right. Again, I’m sorry for that. I realized that I wasn’t marrying you because I loved you.”
She didn’t add that she was pretty sure he wasn’t marrying her for love either.
His brace-straightened smile flashed, but there wasn’t a hint of kindness in the expression—it was just a mocking mimicry of a smile. “No. You were marrying me because Mommy wanted you to.”
“You’re right.” Charlie was done hiding from the truth. She’d let herself try to buy her mother’s love and approval. She would never win either and she was done trying. “And that was a huge mistake. But it’s a mistake I’ll have to live with. And taking the easy way out is a mistake I won’t repeat.”
As if he hadn’t heard a word, Winslow continued, “Your mother has a new date set. She tells me she told you all about it.”
Charlie shook her head. “And I told her it was out of the question.”
“Charlotte, you will marry me.” It was a flat statement of what he believed.
“Why? You don’t love me. You as much as admitted it Friday night. Why?”
“Because you committed to me. Because people expect it. You’ve made me a laughingstock by running away and I won’t have it.”
Charlie used to think Winslow’s blue eyes were his most compelling feature, but as they narrowed she realized they were as cold as his smile.
She momentarily pictured Dan’s quiet gray eyes—eyes that spoke of his kindness and said more than Dan ever said verbally. The thought of Dan’s quiet strength bolstered Charlie’s courage and helped her face her own weaknesses and Winslow.
“So it’s not love, but simply ego?” she asked.
Winslow folded his arms across his chest and studied her with the scrutiny of a little boy studying an ant in a jar. “Why all this talk of love? I thought we were both clear about what we wanted. I am offering more money than you ever dreamed of and social position. And you . . .” He paused.
“I what? That’s what I’ve been trying to figure out. You don’t love me and I’m certainly not bringing you increased wealth or position, so why me?”
“I’m attracted to you. You’re different from the other women I’ve dated. I thought that difference was an asset, but I’m beginning to wonder . . .”
“So, just walk away.”
“I won’t do that. I’ll be more of a laughingstock than I already am. Besides, you’ll be a good mother, and once this nonsense is over, I still believe you’ll do well in my social circles.”
Again he paused, as if trying to think of something to say that would convince her. “And I do love you, in my own way.”
“But you’re not in love with me and never have been. I was attractive enough, convenient, not embarrassing, and you figured I’d be a good mother. Winslow, that’s not enough.”
“It could be.”
Before she could answer, there was the sound of another car that sent Charlie’s spirit soaring. Dan’s black truck pulled alongside Winslow’s Porsche.
Dan stepped out of the truck and Winslow seemed to shrink in comparison.
“Dan, you’re home.” A sense of relief swept through Charlie.
“We have company?” Dan surveyed the scene as he walked toward Charlie. She looked happy to see him.
He eyed the man she had been talking to. This had to be Winslow. His very bearing, the way he stepped closer to Charlie as if he had some claim on her, screamed his Winslow-ness.
Dan loathed the man on sight.
“Not really company. An unwanted guest.”
“Who is this, Charlotte?” Winslow said in a very nasally voice.
Fop.
Dan wasn’t sure why he thought of that word, but it suited the man. Puffed up with his own importance, condescending to anyone he considered beneath him, which was most of the population, Dan was sure. What on earth had Charlie been thinking?
“I’m—”
“My lover,” Charlie blurted out.
CHAPTER FIVE
“What?” The fop looked ready to collapse.
Dan wanted to echo Winslow’s what, but he held his tongue, anxious to see just where Charlie w
as going to take this.
“Yes. Winslow, my ex-fiancé, this is Dan, my current lover. You see, Winslow, I left the church with nothing more than a wedding dress. You had all my clothes and I’d sold everything else. So I decided to become a kept woman. That’s all you saw me as, a kept woman with a marriage certificate. Dan’s more honest about it, that’s all. He lent me the money to start over and he got me a job at the company he works at. In return, I’m warming his bed. Right, Dan?”
There was no way Dan could refuse her, even if it meant going along with her absurd lie.
“Sure. Charlie’s the best. A woman of her talent is cheap at twice the cost.”
“Really?” She looked as if he’d just paid her the highest of compliments. “I’m so glad you think so. I do so want to please you in every way.”
Winslow the dandy—another handy, infrequently used word that Dan thought fit the fop to a tee—edged closer to Charlie. “Charlotte, that will be enough of this charade. Get in the car, and I’ll take you to your mother’s, where you’ll stay until the wedding.”
Dan’s arm reached out and circled Charlie’s waist of its own volition. He was only playing the role she’d cast him in. The fact that he enjoyed holding her had nothing to do with it.
“I don’t think so,” he said. “Look at all these bags. I’m a workingman and I don’t think Charlie’s shopping trip came cheap. She’s going to have months of work to pay this off.”
“Work at the company or work in your bed?” Charlie asked innocently.
The innocent tone was at odds with the devil that twinkled in those green eyes.
“Both.”
His arms snaked a little lower and cupped her buttocks.
“Oh,” Charlie squealed.
“Get your hands off her.” Winslow took off his designer jacket and actually started to roll up his sleeves.
“I don’t think so. Charlie likes my hands, don’t you, baby?”
“Oh, Dan. Maybe I should just leave all these clothes out here. Goodness knows with the way you’re touching me, I won’t have any need of clothes for the rest of the night.”
She picked up a couple of bags, tossed them back in the car, and slammed the car door shut. “Good-bye, Winslow. If you wouldn’t mind getting my luggage out of your trunk and leaving it next to the car, I’d appreciate it.”
“Charlotte. I know I hurt you when I said I didn’t love you, but that doesn’t mean we can’t build a good life together. Trying to make me jealous with the likes of him? A truck driver? I don’t think you could sink much lower. Now, get in the car.”
“Good-bye, Winslow,” Dan said. He took Charlie’s hand and led her toward his house, not Doug’s apartment. “Come on, honey, these hands are itching to . . .” He leaned close and whispered, “Giggle. It will drive him nuts.”
Charlie complied and tried to recapture her teenage days—days when anything in the world was possible, when she believed the world was fair. A laugh from the days when she truly believed someday she’d find someone to love her for herself.
Neither Dan nor Charlie turned around when they heard the thud of something being thrown, followed by a trunk being shut, then a car door being slammed.
The Porsche’s engine revved a moment before it gunned out of the driveway.
Charlie didn’t move from Dan’s arms until Winslow’s car had disappeared from sight. When she did slip out of his grasp, Dan missed her presence immediately.
“That was interesting,” she said.
Interesting wasn’t the word Dan would have used to describe their little game. His body ached, even though he’d known the entire thing was an act—just an act. His hands itched to continue exploring Charlie’s body, and his lips were begging to help.
He opened the door to the kitchen and used the motion as a means to put more distance between the two of them. He gestured at a kitchen chair and realized she’d said something and was waiting for an answer. “I’m sorry. What did you say?”
“Are you okay?”
He nodded and moved to the only other chair. He wished it were at the other end of the table, not kitty-corner to hers. But there was no hope for it. He couldn’t move it, no matter how much he needed to keep some distance between them.
“I said, do you think it would be possible to really get a job at Imperial? I could do filing, or even ride along with you on your runs, if they’d allow it.”
“Why?” he asked.
“Why what?”
Slowly, as if talking to a child, he said, “Why would you want to work at Imperial?”
“I need a job. Like I said, I quit mine a couple weeks ago. I planned to be on my honeymoon with Winslow right now. But I’m not and I need a job.”
“Okay.”
“Okay? That’s it? Maybe you should call your boss and check.”
“Charlie, there’s something I should have told you sooner.”
She studied him, suspicion radiating like an aura from every pore of her body. “What?”
“I don’t have to ask anyone.”
The suspicion melted away and she smiled. “Of course you do. I know that you can’t just go around hiring people off the street, especially without talking to your boss.”
“How would hiring someone off the street be different than picking someone up off the street?”
“That’s different. You could get in trouble just giving me a job without asking anyone.”
“And I couldn’t get in trouble picking up a hitchhiker?”
“Dan, I wasn’t exactly armed.”
“Who knew what you had stuffed in the gown?” Thinking of what was stuffed in that gown made him suddenly very, very hot. He rearranged the napkin holder and salt and pepper shakers, needing to keep his hands busy with anything that wasn’t Charlie Eaton.
“I told you, what I had under that gown didn’t even qualify as underwear. It was basically lace, held together with a wing and a prayer.”
The idea of winged lace didn’t do anything to cool the heat coursing through Dan’s system. Enough of this silly verbal sparring. Charlie had said she wanted nothing to do with men—especially rich men or men who wanted to be rich. Telling her the truth was a sure way to put some distance between them. And distance was what he needed right now. “I said you can have a job, and you can.”
“And I said call your boss. I’m not going to just show up tomorrow and say, ‘Hi, I’m Charlie. I’m the reason Dan skipped out of work yesterday and, oh, by the way, he promised me a job, but he doesn’t even know what kind of skills I possess.’”
Dan slammed the pepper shaker down. “I know what skills you have. You have an art degree.”
“That and a buck will get me a cup of coffee.”
He grabbed her wrist. “Why the hell are you arguing? You said you wanted a job, and I said I’ll see to it you have one.”
“And what is your boss going to say?” She pulled away from him.
Dan looked down. He hadn’t even realized he was holding on to her wrist. What was this woman doing to him? He wanted to tell her the truth but she seemed to twist everything around. “If you want a job at Imperial, it’s yours. Take it or leave it.”
“Call your boss. Or better yet, get me an application tomorrow and I’ll apply just like everyone else.”
“Damn it, Charlie. I am the boss.”
Charlie shook her head. A blond strand of hair drifted onto her cheek and she brushed it aside. “You’re a trucker.”
“Right. I’m a trucker who’s an owner of the company and you can have a job there if you want it.”
“Oh.”
Dan watched in horror as Charlie momentarily looked like she might cry. But the moment was fleeting and was quickly replaced by what looked to be anger.
“You jerk.” She slugged his arm and bolted for the door.
Dan was quicker. He jumped out of his chair, sending it clattering to the floor, and grabbed her elbow. “What was that for?”
She swung around to face him, her eyes bright with either anger or unshed tears, he wasn’t quite sure. He prayed it was anger.
“You lied to me,” she hissed.
Dan had wanted her to stop looking at him like some hero. But he hadn’t wanted to see her look at him like this, as if he was just another man in a long line of men who didn’t live up to her ideals.
“I didn’t lie to you. You assumed I was just a truck driver, but I didn’t mention I was an owner of the company. That’s not lying. That’s omission. I am first and foremost just a trucker, a trucker who got lucky.”
She shrugged his hand from her elbow. “I’m sick of men using me.”
“Using you? What on earth could I want from you?” He held up a hand before she had a chance to answer. “Nothing. We’re not even friends. I just feel sorry for you.”
“Sorry for me? I don’t need your pity. I don’t need anything from you.” She turned, ready to make her escape.
Dan knew he should let her go. He’d burst her picture of him as some hero and she was prepared to walk out of his life. As soon as she did, his life could get back to normal.
But instead of listening to the rational part of his mind, he grabbed her shoulder and spun her around. “But feeling sorry for you, for the way your life has turned upside down, has nothing to do with why I want you.”
Her eyes widened. “Want me?” She shuffled backward, toward the door. “You want me in an employee sort of way?”
“No, I want you like this.” Dan pulled her into his arms and proceeded to show her exactly how he wanted her. It was the same way he’d wanted her when he’d first seen her hitchhiking in that ridiculous white gown, or eating dessert at the truck stop, or holding her after a nightmare. It was how he’d wanted her pretty much every moment that had passed since he’d met her.
He wanted her.
He’d needed to put distance between them, but he was beginning to suspect distance wasn’t going to help. He wanted her more with each passing moment. He’d tried to deny it, but he couldn’t. This woman twisted him in knots.
