by Holly Jacobs
“When dealing with a stubborn man, I’d better be devious.” She picked up the phone and handed it to Con. “So, who delivers good pizza in Erie?”
Con made the call. “What do you want on it?”
“Everything,” Charlie said. “I want everything.”
The pizza arrived just in time for lunch. Con and Charlie had just settled themselves at the picnic table when Con said cheerfully, “Don’t look now, but we have company.”
Charlie took another bite of her pizza and wiped the excess sauce off her chin. Chomping merrily on her bite, she watched her white knight charge to her rescue. He might not know it, but this time she was going to do the rescuing.
“What’s going on?” Dan bellowed.
“Some pizza?” Charlie asked sweetly. She pulled out an especially huge slice and set it on a napkin. She pushed it toward him.
“What do you think you’re doing?”
“Eating lunch. Maybe you should take a piece of pizza.” She patted the seat next to her. “Something in your stomach might improve your mood.”
“I think I’d best be going.” Con rose.
“Sit and finish your lunch,” Charlie said. “Just because Dan’s in a bad mood doesn’t mean you have to interrupt your meal.”
“My mood’s fine. It’s your work skills that aren’t. You have work waiting for you.” He stood, glaring at her, ignoring the pizza.
The man needed to eat to keep his strength up. Charlie had plans that would require all Dan’s strength. “I know, I know, Dan. It’s imperative that your filing system be totally reorganized. I mean, goodness knows what’s going to happen to the trucking company if it’s not done today.”
“Right. Now, get to work.”
“I will . . . as soon as we’re done eating. Sit down,” she barked at Con, who was trying to nonchalantly make his escape. She pushed the box toward him. “Another slice?”
Con stuffed the last of his crust into his mouth. “I think I’m full,” he mumbled around the huge bite.
“You only had one piece,” she scolded.
“And one was more than enough,” Dan growled. Reluctantly he took the seat next to Charlie.
“One piece is more than enough,” Con echoed as he beat a hasty retreat.
“Coward,” Charlie called after his fleeing back.
“You invited him out here on purpose, didn’t you?” Dan reached for the piece of pizza and took a bite.
“Sure. I thought it would be wise to get to know my other boss,” she answered, deliberately misunderstanding his meaning.
“You’re not going to get to know him,” Dan warned.
“Why?” Charlie picked a stray anchovy off her slice. When she’d told Con to order everything, she’d forgotten the squishy things. She hated anchovies.
Dan didn’t seem to mind them. He finished his first bite and helped himself to a sip of her cola. “Con’s a womanizer.”
“So? Like I said last night, I want to be womanized, but you won’t help me out. Maybe Con will.”
“Charlie, you’re vulnerable . . .”
The pizza lay forgotten on the napkin while Charlie toyed with the can.
“. . . you have no idea what you’re doing,” he continued.
She slammed the cola can onto the table. “Are we talking about the fact that I want to seduce you?”
“Yes.” Dan’s own slice of pizza was forgotten as well. His gray eyes studied her.
Gently she reached up and stroked his cheek. Even though he’d been clean-shaven when they left the house, there was already the faint rasp of stubble. Charlie liked the feel of it.
“Getting into your bed is a very good plan, Dan. After that kiss yesterday, there’s no doubt in my mind we’d be good together.”
That kiss had left her wanting more . . . so much more. If only she could get Dan to cooperate.
“You’re on the rebound.”
“Nope. Like I said, I couldn’t get over Winslow so fast if I’d truly loved him.” She was so over Winslow. He was just an annoying man from her past. The man next to her, the one whose cologne filled the air, was her future.
“You don’t love me.”
“Never said I did.” And she never said she didn’t either, she realized.
Love Dan?
Was it possible to fall in love so fast? Maybe in a fairy tale, but Charlie wasn’t ready to pin the word love on the emotions she was feeling.
Maybe she did love Dan, she’d have to think about it, explore whatever it was she felt for him and try to define it. It was more than simple lust, of that she was sure.
But whatever she felt, she wasn’t going to make a mistake and admit it. Not to him. She wanted him. They could be good together, but she’d already used the word love with Winslow. Look how that had turned out. No, she wasn’t going to say she loved Dan.
And yet . . . love? It was a deep and scary word—Winslow had taught her that. And what she felt for Dan was deep, but not the least bit scary.
Love?
She put the thought away and concentrated on getting Dan into bed. Lust was an emotion she could handle.
“I said I wanted to seduce you. I have no delusions about how things will end up. You’ll go your way, I’ll go mine.” The thought was like a knife plunging into her heart, but Charlie wouldn’t allow herself to dwell on how this fairy tale would end. All she knew was she needed Dan more than she’d ever needed anyone, or anything.
“But before we go anywhere, I think we should do something about this thing that’s between us.” Her hand dropped from his cheek to his chest. “I think you feel it too.”
“I want you,” he admitted reluctantly. “But I’m not going to commit to you.”
She reached out and put her hand on his chest. “I’m not talking forever. I’m talking about stripping off our clothes and . . .” Charlie felt warmth spread through her body.
“Stop that.” Dan grabbed her hand.
“Why? Tell me you don’t want me.”
“I want you.” He set her hand on her own lap. “But I’m not going to take you.”
“Fine.” She stood. “Then don’t come charging out like some outraged lover when I have lunch with another man.”
Dan looked like he was about to say something, but instead he rose, turned on his heel, and stalked back into the office.
She’d won the first round when she’d eaten lunch with Con, and Dan had once again ridden to her rescue. He wanted her—he couldn’t deny it any longer.
Round two went to Dan, she realized. As she watched him storm back into the building, she realized she didn’t just want to seduce him.
Love?
She hadn’t known him long enough to define her feelings for him with that word, and yet all the things she felt for him made that word keep moving to the forefront of her mind.
Love?
She loved him?
Leaving Winslow had been easy because Charlie had never loved the man she’d been ready to marry.
But Dan . . .
Losing him was going to be unbearable. And given her track record, losing Dan was inevitable. But she wasn’t going to worry about losing him. While she had him, she would savor every minute because . . . she loved him.
The feeling was enormous and threatened to explode from her chest.
She loved Dan Martin.
Why?
Was he right? Was it just some rebound effect?
She thought of how he’d picked up a hitchhiking bride. How he’d bought her food and offered a practical stranger a roof over her head. How he’d helped Ida on the highway. How he’d stood up to her mother. How he’d stood up to Winslow. How he touched her and how those touches made her feel.
Dan was everything Winslow hadn’t been. Kind and caring. A true hero. Yes, she loved Dan. And maybe she couldn’t k
eep him, but she could certainly try to love him enough in whatever time they had to last her the rest of her life.
Yes, maybe they’d each won a round in whatever game they were playing. Charlie smiled as she thought of round three.
She planned on winning that one . . . big-time.
Dan was not having a good day. Watching Charlie reorganize his files—in a four-drawer filing cabinet that required a great deal of bending—was driving him nuts.
Up, down. Bending, reaching.
Watching Charlie had been torturous.
And thinking about Charlie and Con, that had been plain old murder. What had Con been doing having lunch with Charlie? Dan had made his feelings clear on the issue of Con getting involved with Charlie.
He’d stewed about Con and Charlie all day at the office, watching her reach and bend. He was thankful work had ended and he was home so he wouldn’t have to think about her anymore.
He poured himself a glass of cola. He’d been drinking the stuff all day. Molly still wasn’t making the coffee and he didn’t want to ask Charlie, so he was sticking to cola and regretting that he had asked Charlie to work on the files.
He didn’t know what else to do with her.
He knew what she wanted him to do with her. And part of him wanted to oblige, but he knew she wasn’t ready for something more. She needed time to recover from her almost-marriage, though she didn’t seem overly broken up about it.
No. He wasn’t going to think about Charlie Eaton anymore. He wasn’t going to think about the fact she was right across the driveway. He wasn’t going to think about the fact she was so very available and apparently so very willing.
She was vulnerable. Suffering, even. On the rebound. Just looking for someone to love.
The doorbell rang. Dan jumped at the sound, forgetting the cola next to his hand. It spilled.
He swore as he grabbed the towel off the handle of the refrigerator and wiped at the puddle on the counter.
The bell rang again.
Dan threw the towel down and marched to the door.
“What?”
Charlie.
Of course it was Charlie. Who else would show up at his door unannounced and uninvited?
“I thought I’d see if you were hungry.” Her smile didn’t dim and she slipped past him into the kitchen.
Dan felt foolish, standing there, holding the door. He shut it. “I’m not hungry.”
Charlie was already peering into his refrigerator. “I am,” she said cheerfully.
Of course she was cheerful. She’d had lunch with Con. What woman wouldn’t be in a good mood after eating with, as Molly would say, Prince Charming?
“I thought you went shopping,” he said, hoping she’d take the hint and leave.
“Why should both of us cook? We both have to eat and it gets lonely eating by myself.”
“How would you know? I don’t think you’ve eaten by yourself since I picked you up.”
“Are you still mad that I had lunch with Con?”
“You’re an employee,” he said. “Shouldn’t you call him Mr. Estoban?”
“I’m your employee too, but I don’t call you Mr. Martin.”
“Maybe you should,” he muttered, though he doubted the formality could erect a big enough wall to protect him from Charlie.
“Why would that be, Dan?”
“Because I don’t think you understand what being an employee means. It means I am the boss. I run things. I tell you what to do and you do it.”
“And what would you like to tell me to do, Mr. Martin?” Hope tinged her tone.
“Go home,” he said, praying she’d listen just this once. He needed her to listen to him, because he could feel his willpower slipping. He wanted her and she’d done everything but strip naked to show him she wanted him as well.
What he didn’t want was the entanglement he was sure would follow.
“I don’t think that’s really what you want to tell me, is it?” She gave up studying the refrigerator and turned to face Dan.
Dan felt like a kitten facing a tiger. “What game are you playing, Charlie?”
“No game, Dan. I’m not very good at games.”
“So what do you want from me?” He busied himself cleaning up the remainder of his spilled soda.
Charlie’s hand laid gently over his, stilling his busy work. “I think you know. I’ve told you. And I want you to be honest with me,” she said softly.
Honest? If Dan were honest, he’d tell his Cinderella just what un-charming fantasies her prince had been having. Fantasies that didn’t involve happily-ever-afters, but merely blissfully-happy-for-the-night.
“When I have been less than honest with you?” he asked, hoping to avoid bursting her fairy-tale bubble.
“Honest?” Her hand brushed his cheek. “Dan, can you honestly tell me you don’t want me?”
“No.” He pulled away from her touch. “But I can tell you that I’m not going to have you.”
She shoved her hands into her pants pockets. “Why? Tell me that much. Why, Dan?”
“We agreed that getting involved wasn’t a good idea.”
“No, you gave me a lot of excuses, but no real reason. And, for the record, Mr. Martin, I never agreed.”
He raked his hand through his hair. Better to mess his hair than to wrap his fingers around Charlie’s shoulder and physically toss her from his house. “Charlie, you’re on the rebound.”
“Nope. Certain things have come to light that make me positive I never loved Winslow.” She didn’t add, but I’m pretty certain I could love you . . . maybe I do love you.
When Dan didn’t say anything else, she turned to leave.
If he’d been smart, Dan would have let her go. But the misery he’d seen flash in those lovely green eyes wouldn’t allow him to be smart. “Charlie?”
She kept walking. Dan reached out and gently grasped her shoulder. “Charlie?”
She faced him then, and he saw how he’d hurt her.
“I’m going, Dan,” she said softly. “I’ll be out of the apartment by the end of the week. You can consider this my official resignation from work. I just want to thank you for everything you did for me.”
She was leaving.
It’s what he wanted, what he’d been trying to get her to do. And yet, the closer she got to the door, the more anxiety raced through Dan’s system. “Don’t go.”
She whirled. “Why?”
“Because I don’t want you to.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
Because I don’t want you to?
Dan couldn’t believe the words had come out of his mouth. He wanted her to leave. It was wiser for both of them if she did, because if she didn’t . . .
She stood in the doorway, studying him. She did that a lot.
What did she see when she looked at him like that? Dan wanted to ask, just like he wanted to ask her a thousand different questions, but he didn’t know how.
“Stay,” he said, though every instinct said he should let her leave.
“That’s not what you said. You told me you wanted me to go.”
“I lied,” he said simply.
“If you don’t want me to go, what do you want?”
Dan hesitated. He sensed that how he chose to answer the question would be important. But he couldn’t lie to those eyes.
“You,” he whispered.
“Are you sure?”
Dan couldn’t help but smile. Her concern was endearing, but then everything about Charlie was endearing. “I’m very sure, if you are.”
For an answer, she simply placed her hand in his.
Dan scooped her up and took her to his room. He wanted her right there, but she deserved more than some hurried tumble on his kitchen table.
All his reasons for not being with
Charlie had fled. All that was left was the sense that this was right—this was meant to be. Gently, he set her on his bed.
They were both adults and they both wanted this.
For him it had gone beyond wanting to needing. He needed Charlie.
He sat down next to her and opened his arms. She moved into his embrace.
And he realized that she fit there perfectly.
As if she were made for him.
The next morning Dan held Charlie, and rather than basking in the feelings of contentment, he felt regret. He liked to think of himself as a man of integrity, but last night didn’t say much for that honor. He’d taken his runaway bride to bed.
No, not his.
Charlie was confused, hurt, and vulnerable. She didn’t know what she wanted, because if she did, she’d have realized it wasn’t Dan. What he’d done was take advantage of her confusion. What kind of man was he?
He released her and she snuggled closer to him. It was everything he could do not to wrap her in his arms again. It had felt so right, but Dan knew whatever was happening between them was all wrong.
Dan had grown up on his own, shuffled from home to home. The only people who had ever been a part of his life were his older brother, Mark, and later Con.
Mark had his own family now, living in Houston. So for the most part, there was just Con. Con didn’t place any demands on Dan, on their friendship.
And that’s how Dan liked it. He liked things simple. He liked the status quo. He didn’t need to add a rebounding runaway bride with a nasty mother to his life.
Dan had work he enjoyed, work he excelled at. So what if his life was rather sparse in the people department? He liked it that way. People had a habit of making things messy, of becoming an integral part of your life, then leaving.
Uncomplicated. Unfettered. That’s how Dan lived his life.
Last night was a huge complication, one he would have to rectify this morning. He couldn’t allow Charlie to think this was more than what it was—two people who came together for one brief moment.
His Cinderella insisted on seeing him as her knight in shining armor, some sort of prince at the ball.
Dan knew the truth of it—he was anything but a prince. At the moment he was feeling remarkably frogish.
