Shrewd, dark eyes narrowed slightly, as if trying to read his thoughts. She pasted on a smile. “Why, Mr. Royale, it’s such a pleasure.”
Somehow he doubted that, especially when he told her of his intentions.
After she finished with the pleasantries of coffee and her secretary left the room, she began, “We had such a lovely evening with you.”
Alex had two options: Either he could go along with this charade or cut to the chase. “Mrs. King, we both know why I’m here.”
“Yes.” Nudging her cup and saucer aside, she pushed away the pretense. She leaned forward in her chair, her hands grasped tightly together. He was certain she held her breath.
“Your daughter—”
“Francine,” she interrupted, relaxing her hands. “I knew it. She’s a lovely girl. Quite a catch.”
“Not that one.”
Her brow furrowed and she looked genuinely puzzled. “Priscilla?”
“Not that one, either.”
“But…but who?” Then her jaw slackened and her eyes widened.
“Yes, that one.”
“Charlotte!” Her mouth opened and closed.
He stifled a laugh at her shocked look. “It’s not a problem, is it?”
He knew she’d never be able to refuse. If she turned Alexander Royale down for a chance to marry one of her daughters, it would get out and her reputation would be shredded to pieces. Now, Charlie’s acceptance may be an entirely different story. A fusion of doubt shot through him.
Visibly trying to pull herself together, she smoothed a hand over her perfectly styled hair. She relaxed her mouth into a semblance of a smile. “No, of course it’s not a problem. Not at all.”
“She’s available then?” He held his breath.
She waved a hand and made a sound in the back of her throat. “Dexter Snodgrass? Oh, he’s nothing, just one of our mad scientists. You know the type, always concocting one thing or another. Perfume this time…” She rambled off.
“Good.” Alex could breathe again, the tightening in his chest easing. But he had a feeling she wanted something out of this. “The terms?”
She sat up, straightening her back. Her eyes brightened. “Now, you know, she is a King.” Somehow she’d regained complete composure. “Nothing but the best.”
“Of course.” His middle clenched. Alex kept a snare from forming on his lips at the change in this woman. She’d barely tolerated Charlie last night.
“I don’t know if you’re aware of this or not, Mr. Royale, but I was given the right to accept or deny any of Charlotte’s suitors for her hand in marriage. In his will, her father entrusted me with the responsibility.” She raised her chin and cocked her head to the side.
Alex balled his fingers into a fist. “And if she goes against your wishes?” he asked between gritted teeth.
“She’ll be disowned. Disinherited. Cut off from her family. Kicked out of the store. No contact with the store employees she loves. Left with nothing. Not even a stick of furniture.” He swore he saw a ghost of a smile cross her lips.
“Mr. King put that in his will?” Alex kept a tight control on his voice, wishing to give nothing away to this cold, hard woman.
“King’s was quite the store back then. The store. We had lots of interest in it and it was very profitable. We had to protect us, the store, and the girls from any untoward influences or unsavory characters. My husband left the consequences up to me.” This time she did let the smile linger.
“And it still stands to this day?”
“It’s ironclad. I wouldn’t have had it any other way.”
Barracuda was too kind of a word to describe this woman. “What’s your price, Mrs. King?” He wanted to get this over with; he couldn’t stand to sit in the same room with her a moment longer than necessary.
“King’s.”
He wasn’t certain he heard right. “King’s Department Store?”
“Yes. I want it sold. Either you buy it or find the highest bidder. You’ll be in charge once you marry the girl. The employees will love that. The late, great Charles King’s beloved daughter takes a husband. Anything to please the poor orphaned Charlotte King and her legacy.” Venom laced her words. “It should be easy for you to sway them eventually. You can use your powers of persuasion. I hear you’re quite the fireball in boardrooms, fighting and winning your way.”
If he felt disgust before, it was nothing like the hard stone sitting in his belly now. “You hate her that much?” he asked tightly. How could anyone dislike beautiful, fun-loving Charlie?
He swore he saw a hint of moisture clouding her eyes. “It’s difficult to compete with your husband’s child. She was always his favorite—” Her voice caught. She made a sound in the back of her throat. Her eyes cleared into two hard chips of ice. “Do we have a deal, Mr. Royale?”
“What do you get out of it?” He wanted to know.
“Freedom,” she nearly hissed. “This store has been an albatross around my neck. That and my husband’s ghost filling this store, twisting the employees’ heads to him, hoarding their loyalty on a dead man.”
“Of course, you’ll end up a very rich woman,” he baited, realizing the truth of the rumors he’d heard about the store’s falling earnings over the last few quarters. If she sold it in the near future she’d still see a tidy profit. The longer she held on, the more the store lost, and the lower her take.
But to buy a failing store? How could he justify it, to himself, to his granddad? Royale Enterprises, the family business, focused on developing property, a dream full of hope and promise. They were not in the market of taking over an existing operation to try to shore up a quickly plummeting bottom line.
His curiosity won out. “Why not sell it yourself?”
“And be more of a villain than I already am?” She recoiled. “I know what they say about me. If I’m ever to keep my head up in this town, then I must not be the one to do all the dirty work.”
Silently, he agreed. The society she clung to would oust her from the fringes of their circle.
“Despite what you’ve heard, Mr. Royale, I am a very smart woman. I intend to come out on top, the belle of the ball, so to speak, and with a load of money to boot.”
The room grew even colder for Alex. Charlie and the girls were just as much a commodity to this woman as the store was. Everything had a dollar sign on it for her.
Last night he’d met Charlie, a woman who’d made him laugh, made him step outside his comfort level. Also, she made him think that he could find a wife who didn’t want to follow all those strict, imposed rules and become a carbon copy society wife who would bore him to death.
When Charlie bumped into him, she’d turned his world upside down. And his emotions.
In less than a minute, she’d exposed his lonely existence, sparking a need he didn’t even know he had. He longed for more than just a marriage of convenience. He wanted a wife, in every sense of the word.
He wanted her. But at what price?
He weighed his options and made his final decision.
Standing up, he watched Mrs. King follow suit. “King’s Department Store in exchange for Charlie, is that it?”
“Exactly,” she murmured with a sly smile.
Grim determination took hold. He’d sell the damn thing and be done with it. He held out his hand. “You have a deal.”
Chapter 5
Leaning against the doorframe to Charlie’s charming little corner office with large windows and cozy window seats beneath them, Alex could finally breathe fresh air again. The arctic room and woman he’d just left was now replaced with warmth and a sense of peace at seeing Charlie and her surroundings. He watched her at her desk with her head bent over her work. She drew something that held her rapt attention.
Tendrils of her dark hair fell forward. She brushed them back impatiently. Her teeth gnawed at her bottom lip as she swept the charcoal pencil over the half-filled page. He imagined soothing that tortured flesh.
T
enderness welled up inside him.
How in the world had she survived with that cold hearted, emotionless woman as her stepmother all these years? But she had. And thrived, if his guess was correct from all her laughter and high jinks of the night before and even this morning. A well of admiration pooled inside of him. God, she was so adorable.
The phone rang. “Can you get that, Peg?” she asked, never taking her focus off the page. “Tell them I’m busy and will call them back.”
Peg, he assumed, was her secretary. However, she’d stepped away from her desk. The shrill ring sounded again. He strolled in, snatching up her phone. She looked up. Her eyes widened and her hand stilled.
“Hello, this is Miss King’s office.” He heard a voice utter a sound, but didn’t let them say anything. “She’s unable to take any calls right now. Can you please call back this afternoon?”
“Who’s this?” a male voice asked.
Alex frowned. “Who’s this?”
“Dexter. Is Charlie there?”
He let out a slow breath. “Dexter.” He glanced at Charlie and watched a flush creep over her cheeks. His middle tightened. Did she have feelings for the man? Ones her stepmother weren’t aware of?
Doubt nagged at him. Would she agree to marry him?
Reluctantly, he held out the receiver toward her, raising his eyebrows. She stared at the black instrument, and then back at him. While biting her lip, she slowly shook her head. He breathed a sigh of relief.
Maybe he had a chance.
Alex pulled the receiver back to his ear. “She’s unavailable.” He took guilty pleasure in saying that. If he had his way about it Charlie would be unavailable very shortly.
A muttered curse blast in his ear. A sudden dial tone echoed.
Good-bye to you, too, he thought, and then replaced the phone in its cradle.
“Alex!”
He liked the breathy sound of her voice, the way it caught on his name. “Charlie,” he said softly, watching her pupils flare with awareness. He leaned a hip on her desk.
She glanced down. “Why don’t you make yourself comfortable?”
“Thanks, I will.” He smiled widely. Gazing at the paper she’d been sketching on, he reached over and plucked it up, turning it toward him. He had no idea what he’d expected, but certainly not this. “Me?”
Red spread over her cheeks and she snatched the drawing away from him. “It’s… ah… research. I’m thinking of doing a fairy-tale window display.” She quickly sketched in short, quick strokes. In a matter of seconds, she’d fashioned a jewel-encrusted crown on his head. “Ah… who better than Prince Charming to adorn it?”
He searched her gaze, slowly and intently. Her caramel eyes gave nothing away. “Really?”
Shrugging, she said, “I’m the art director. I have to come up with hundreds of ideas.”
“Ah, then you’re just the one for me,” he said, entirely serious.
She gulped. “Really? What would you need my ideas for? I mean, surely, you have your own people who can come up with something.” She frowned. “And what kind of ideas are we talking about?”
“It’s personal. A job only you can do. Have lunch with me today and I’ll tell you.”
“But, it’s only—” she stopped, grabbed his wrist and turned it to read the face of his gold Rolex. “Quarter to ten.”
She pulled her hand away before he could stop her. But the soft, velvety touch lingered on. He shook his head slightly, trying to regain his thoughts. “I’ll send my driver, Edward, for you at noon.” He got up and strode for the door.
“But I haven’t accepted yet,” she called out.
He halted, turning to her with a smile and raised eyebrow.
“Personal? Can’t you give me even a little hint?”
“Prince Charming takes a wife,” he said, winking at her. Her gasp of surprise followed him down the hallway.
Chapter 6
Charlie waited for the driver to settle into traffic before she climbed onto the facing rich, buttery leather seat. The glass partition was open. She leaned forward. “Limo, huh?”
“Town car’s in the shop.”
“Edward, right?”
Smiling, he gazed in the rearview mirror. He shifted his uniform cap slightly, and then said, “At your service.”
Kind hazel eyes twinkled in his square face. He had a nice wide smile, which helped ease her anxiety somewhat.
Nudging his shoulder, she said, “So tell me which one did he pick?”
“Ma’am?”
“Prince Charming.”
“Mr. Royale?” He chuckled, visibly relaxing. “Is that what you call him to his face?”
“Yep. It’s the truth, isn’t it?” She caught his knowing grin in the mirror’s reflection.
He remained quiet, so she nudged him again. “Come on, you have to know everything that goes on. Which one did he pick?” This was good news for the store, right? So why was she tied up in knots?
Her stepmother had dodged her all morning. Charlie hadn’t been privy to whatever she and Alex had discussed. Her nerves were working overtime.
He darted a glance over his shoulder. “You don’t know?”
“Was it Francine?” Charlie nearly cringed at the crack in her voice. Half of her hoped it was, but the other half prayed it wasn’t.
“That the older one?” he asked, appearing cautious.
“It is her!” Dread pooled in her middle. How in the world could she ever be Alex’s sister-in-law?
“Didn’t say that,” he said, hastening to correct her.
“Priscilla? No way! She barely said five words last night.” She chewed her bottom lip. “Unless he likes them quiet. Is that it, he likes the quiet, shy type?”
There was no hope for her. She mentally kicked herself. What was she thinking anyway? Alex wouldn’t be interested in her. She wasn’t the cool, sophisticated society wife that he obviously needed by his side.
Of course, she wasn’t even interested in marriage.
And then there was Dex… A twinge of guilt shot through her. She’d barely thought of her friend since she’d left his lab late yesterday and after he’d called earlier. Deep down, she sensed his feelings were more involved, more than two friends sharing their passion for work and saving the store.
“Ma’am, you’re jumping to conclusions now.”
Another thought struck her. “Well, if it’s Stepmother, I think you ought to have the man committed.”
“I’d drive him there myself and make sure he doesn’t come out for a long, long time.”
They both laughed at that. Charlie now knew that Alex had to have told Edward at least some of the details of the King family. Just how much she couldn’t be sure.
“You’re not going to tell me, are you, Edward?”
“No, ma’am.”
She sighed. “In spite of it, I still like you.” That gave her another idea. “Hey, are you available?”
“For you?” His voice sounded puzzled.
“Not me, silly,” she said, lightly swatting him on the shoulder. “My friend, Dolly.”
Twenty minutes later, after having extolled Dolly’s virtues to the interested man, he pulled into the marina.
“Fishing? Is that his idea of lunch?” she muttered under her breath.
Edward must have heard; he chuckled as he came around the car to open her door.
The warm balmy lake breeze caressed her face as she stepped out into the sunlight. Closing her eyes, she breathed in deeply, smelling the tangy air. She murmured her approval.
“Like it?” Alex’s question tugged her out of her reverie.
Opening her eyes, she followed his voice. He stood on the pier with his hands on his hips, wearing worn tight jeans and a low-buttoned white shirt. She sucked in a sharp breath. “Yes, I like it very much.” She skipped the details on just exactly what she liked.
His driver helped her negotiate the parking area and the wooden planks of the pier. “Thanks, Edward.” She gazed b
ehind Alex at the tall, gallant white vessel. Looking at him again, she said, “My, what a big boat you have, Mr. Royale.”
His easy grin slid across his face. Alex waited at the bottom of the stairs. He bowed, and then raised a hand to the hulking ship. “Your chariot awaits, my lady.”
She giggled, liking his playful manner. He wasn’t the stuck-up businessman she’d assumed he was.
Holding out a hand, he guided her down to his level.
She stepped in close, bumping him slightly. “Oops,” she said, looking up into his twinkling brown eyes. Trying to step back, she felt his hands hold her waist lightly.
For long, silent minutes he gazed down at her. The intense stare mesmerized Charlie. Finally, she broke the heated contact only to end up glancing at his lips. They were moving, saying something, but she couldn’t be certain what since all the blood had rushed to her ears.
Shaking her head, she said, “I don’t understand.”
“You will. In time,” he whispered back.
Slowly, he released her, and Charlie wasn’t sure if her shaky legs would cooperate and move. But he helped her down the last of the pier and up into the awaiting yacht.
Gleaming blonde wood and the soft lap of water hitting the side of the vessel greeted her. Within minutes, he introduced her to the crew and asked if she’d like a tour.
Looking down at her feet, he said, “You may want to trade those in. Heels aren’t exactly the best form of transportation on a moving yacht.”
She followed his gaze, and then looked at his bare feet. “What is it with you and the shoes, anyway?” she asked. Gingerly, she slipped out of her heels. She carefully rolled down her thigh high stockings, highly aware of his intent stare and low murmur of approval. “Ta-dah,” she said, pulling the stockings free and whisking them through her hands to straighten them.
“Here, let me,” he said, holding out his hand.
With a shrug, she handed them over and watched as he tucked them into his shirt pocket, part of the nylon poking out.
She grinned. “Nice touch.”
If The Shoe Fits Page 3
