“Well, now he’s going to watch the punch bowl,” Raina said.
“Freeing you to dance with me.” Rick Chandler appeared on the opposite side of the table, cornering her in front of his mother with a wink.
The last thing Charlotte needed was time alone with another Chandler man. “As long as I’m being relieved, I think I need some air.”
“You just got some, didn’t you?” Raina called her on her bluff.
Rick met her gaze. “I need you to bolster my reputation around here. The women are turning me down left and right.” He eyed her pointedly and she understood he wanted to talk without creating a scene or a distraction. Police business, probably. She still owed him the list of customers who’d purchased or ordered the handmade panties from her shop.
Better cooperate with Yorkshire Falls’ finest, Charlotte thought. “I think a dance will do me more good than fresh air.”
Rick pushed the table back to make room for her to slip through.
“And that means I can get back to my …” Raina’s voice trailed off and she placed a shaky hand on her heart.
“Mom?” Rick asked.
“I’m okay. It’s just that maybe coming out tonight wasn’t such a good idea. Palpitations.” She glanced away, toward the far wall. “I’ll just get Eric to sit with me until he can take me home. He’s my …”
“Date,” Rick offered, guiding his arm around his mother’s waist. He shot Charlotte a worried glance, but pasted a smile on his face, obviously playing it light with his mother. “You can say it. You’re here with your date.”
“I’m here with my doctor.”
“Who’s suddenly paying exclusive attention to one patient?” Rick smiled knowingly at his mother, then gestured across the room, calling the doctor over.
“It’s like you said, I’m his patient.”
But Charlotte noticed Raina couldn’t meet her son’s gaze.
“Who’s the lucky woman tonight?” Raina asked in an obvious subject change.
“I told you they won’t have anything to do with me.” He winked Charlotte’s way.
“What happened to Donna Sinclair?” his mother asked.
“She only wanted me for my body.”
Raina rolled her eyes and Charlotte couldn’t help but laugh at the byplay, though she too was concerned about Raina’s health.
“Erin Rollins?”
“Last month’s news, Mother.”
“Then maybe you could try cheering up Beth Hansen.”
At the mention of Beth’s name, Charlotte started, then grew concerned. “Why? Isn’t she with David?” Charlotte didn’t expect Beth and her fiancé here, not when they hadn’t seen each other going on two weeks.
“I haven’t seen Beth but I hear her fiancé’s a no-show and figured she’d need a shoulder,” Raina said. “But that could just be hearsay.”
Charlotte sighed. “I’ll stop by on my way home and talk to her.”
Raina nodded. “One of you should. Now, Rick, since Charlotte’s taken that job, how about you ask Mary Pinto to dance? She’s over there by her mother’s wheelchair.”
He shook his head.
“Lisa Burton?” She pointed to the conservative school-teacher standing by the wall.
He sighed. “I can find my own dates, Mom. And I’m here talking with Charlotte now. Are you trying to scare her away?”
“Funny. From what I hear of your brother’s behavior when Charlotte’s near, I thought Charlotte was his concern, not yours.”
Before Charlotte could react, Dr. Fallon came up beside them. He promised Rick he’d sit with Raina until she got her strength back, and then he’d drive her straight home. He steered Raina away with a firm hand at her back.
Rick stared after them, amused by the new couple, but obviously very concerned about his mother’s health. “She can’t be in better hands,” Charlotte said.
“I know.”
“Anyone ever tell you you Chandlers are like hurricanes?” she asked, speaking of Raina’s references to Roman.
Rick shook his head. “Not lately, but it’s as good a description as any.”
“I adore your mother, but sometimes she can be …”
“Blunt,” Rick said.
“An admirable trait when aimed at others,” Charlotte said with a laugh. “Twice as admirable when she’s accumulating business for me. It’s just that …”
“She embarrassed you talking about Roman.”
Charlotte nodded. “Before we dance, do you want to make sure your mother’s okay?”
“No. You said it yourself. She couldn’t be in better hands than her doctor’s. So may I have this dance?” He held out his hand. “You can whisper customer names in my ear.”
She laughed. “Why not?”
He swung her into his arms and onto the dance floor in time for a slow dance. It wasn’t the most orthodox place to discuss the panty thief. They bumped into many couples on the crowded floor, Pearl and Eldin included. The living-in-sin duo were slow dancing together, too slow in deference to Eldin’s bad back. Watching them, happy at their age, should have given Charlotte hope for her own future, but increased her longing for Roman instead.
“Customers, Charlotte,” Rick whispered, bringing them cheek to cheek.
“You’re one smart cop.” She laughed and whispered the needed information in his ear. He had his list of her customers at last.
But the best part of the dance had to be the fact that dancing with Rick had done what Charlotte and her outfit could not. She finally had Roman’s attention. He was looking their way, a scowl on his handsome face.
If Roman strangled his brother, he’d burn in hell, but it might be worth the sacrifice just to get Rick’s hands off Charlotte’s bare back.
Roman clenched his fists at his sides, taking in her green leather pants and the handkerchief-style top that wrapped around her like a sarong and was tied in one knot in the back. One freaking knot that could open with the slightest breeze—or the nimblest fingers. Damn her for wearing an outfit that chic and suggestive anyway. This was a family event in town hall, not a New York City singles dance, for God’s sake.
“Yoo-hoo, Roman.” A feminine hand waved in front of his face. Terrie Whitehall. He’d forgotten he was deep in conversation about the rudeness of patrons to bank tellers. “What?” he asked, never taking his gaze from Charlotte and Rick. The traitor.
“I’m still not sure what I think of her,” Terrie said.
“What you think of who?” Roman had long ago perfected the art of repetition without truly paying attention.
“Charlotte Bronson. You’re staring at her, so who else would I be talking about?”
Caught in the act, Roman forced himself to refocus on the brunette looking at him as if he’d lost his mind. “What about her?”
“She’s older than I am, mind you …”
“Just a year,” he reminded her.
“Well, she’s never done anything to me. Still, to come home and open up such a brazen shop …”
“I was under the impression most of the women, young and old, appreciated the cosmopolitan feel she’s brought to the town.”
“Some women, yes.”
But not the jealous, repressed ones, he thought, taking in Terrie’s severely pulled-back hair, spare makeup, and ruffled blouse buttoned up to her neck. What the hell had he been thinking, considering her for the mother of his child?
Roman knew darn well what he’d been thinking—that he’d find a woman the distinct opposite of Charlotte in looks. One who worked nine to five in a respectable job, who could provide him with the intelligent conversation he sought. Okay, so he’d found conversation. Some of it intelligent, most of it gossip, and too little of it savvy enough to hold his interest.
He’d also wanted to prove to himself that looks weren’t everything—and they weren’t, as long as the woman in question had a healthy respect for others, their occupations, and dress. This woman looked down her nose at Charlotte’s choices. Scra
tch her off his list of wife candidates.
Along with the other half dozen women he’d spoken to or been cornered by tonight. After he’d left Charlotte in her shop, he’d gone home to take a long, cold shower and mentally distance himself from the one woman he wanted, so he could hit on the women he didn’t.
Backass logic, but then Roman figured this baby scheme was a backass plan to begin with. He looked across the room and spotted his mother. Raina was resting in a chair, deep in conversation with Eric Fallon, the family doctor. He hoped his mother hadn’t exerted herself by coming out to a party so soon after her trip to the hospital.
Someone ought to check on her and have a word with the doctor. He excused himself to Terrie. An idea in mind, Roman walked up to his brother and, without a word to Charlotte, grabbed Rick by the shoulder. “I think you ought to check on Mom. She looks kinda pale and she’s been sitting in one place most of the night.”
Rick inclined his head toward Roman. “Check her yourself. Can’t you see I’m busy?”
“She doesn’t listen to me. Because I’m not normally around, she thinks I’m fussing too much.” Which was true—as far as it went. Raina didn’t listen to anyone, all three of her sons included. But if it got his brother’s hands off Charlotte’s back and waist, Roman would consider the half-truth worth telling.
“Take a hike,” Rick shot back.
“I think Roman’s got a point.”
Charlotte’s soft voice hit Roman in the gut, but he ignored the burning sensation. “If you’re the one who Raina will level with, go make sure she’s okay,” she said to Rick.
“She’s sitting with her very own doctor, for Pete’s sake.”
Point to Rick, Roman thought and met Charlotte’s gaze. If she knew he wanted only to relieve her of his brother’s company, she wasn’t letting on. In fact, when she looked at him, her normally warm eyes were cold as ice.
He’d wanted her anger. On some level, he’d courted it intentionally so that he could more easily put her behind him and go on with his mission. But talking to the women in this town had left him empty inside. And his feelings for Charlotte were as strong as ever.
How the hell could he find another woman to marry—and sleep with—when the only one he desired drew him back to her over and over again?
“Rick, please? If Roman’s worried, he obviously sees something worth checking on.”
When Rick didn’t move, Charlotte spoke. “Tell you what. You two talk. I’ll check on Raina.”
Before either brother could react, Charlotte disengaged herself from Rick’s grasp and sauntered over to the other side of the room, far away from either Chandler brother.
“You’re lame, pathetic, and obvious,” Rick muttered.
“So are you. And it’s not like you’re interested in anything more than a good time, so keep your goddamn hands off. She deserves better.”
Rick studied his brother. “I like women’s company. All women, and there’s not one in this town who doesn’t know the score. They don’t get involved if they’re looking for more. I enjoy them, they enjoy me, and no one gets hurt.”
“Especially you?”
“Including me.” Rick shrugged, but the flicker of hurt flashed in his eyes.
Roman immediately regretted the pointed barb he’d shot his brother’s way. No one deserved to be used and hurt the way his middle brother had. Especially since he had everyone’s best interests in his heart at the expense of his own.
“Rick …”
“Forget it.” He brushed away Roman’s concern with his easy Chandler grin.
Roman groaned. He knew he’d overreacted. He wasn’t worried that Charlotte wanted anything more from Rick than a friendship. But rational knowledge didn’t mean Roman wanted to watch Rick’s too-friendly touches on Charlotte’s skin.
“Any chance you could enjoy someone else’s company?” he asked his brother.
“Why? Because she’s yours?”
When Roman didn’t respond to the bait, Rick stepped back, appraising him with the cop look that said, I’m figuring things out. “You’re the one in the market for a longdistance wife, little brother. If you’re so worried about Charlotte deserving better, seems to me you’d better take your own advice.”
“No shit,” Roman muttered.
“Back off. You’re hurting her with mixed messages.”
Roman knew Rick better than anyone, and he recognized that his brother was looking out for Charlotte’s best interest, and pushing Roman in the right direction at the same time. Rick didn’t care if Charlotte went into Roman’s arms or away from them as long as neither Roman nor Charlotte got hurt. It was his brother’s protective nature at play. The same protective nature that had gotten him in trouble once before.
But much as Roman hated to admit it, Rick had a good point. Roman was sending out mixed messages. Charlotte had spent over ten years avoiding him and then, when she finally took him up on his overt signals, what did he do? He rejected her out of self-preservation—at her expense.
Rick slapped Roman on the back. “Now that we’ve cleared that up, I think I’ll set your mind at ease and check on Mom.” He turned and headed for Raina and Charlotte, leaving Roman to choke on his own words, the taste of them sour in his mouth.
After another half an hour of attempting to interest himself in the single women of Yorkshire Falls, Roman knew he was failing miserably. And all because of the green-eyed woman who’d bewitched him from day one. Then there was his middle brother, who was hanging around Charlotte, baiting and aggravating Roman—intentionally, no doubt. If Rick was looking to get a reaction, he was too damn close to succeeding.
Especially when Roman turned toward the door in time to see Charlotte and Rick walk out together, his brother’s hand on the small of her naked back. He’d worry about self-control tomorrow, while self-preservation, he decided, was way overrated.
He stormed outside and into the dark night without looking back.
Raina watched her middle son leave with Charlotte to check on Beth Hansen while her youngest ran out of town hall, all eyes on his abrupt and angry departure. Her sons knew how to make an entrance, but they had to work on their exits.
Still, she couldn’t deny the sweeping sense of relief she felt with their departures. She’d have to sit tight. Though she’d love a dance, she couldn’t afford gossip to reach her boys. They were too smart and might just figure out her scam if she wasn’t careful. Keeping up the charade of poor health was more difficult than she’d imagined when she’d concocted this idea.
She shook her head, then glanced over at the punch bowl. Samson had long since disappeared to be replaced by Terrie Whitehall, Roman’s leftovers. She sighed. Much as she adored her boys, she hated the devastation left in their wake. Raina felt particularly protective toward Charlotte. And the last thing she wanted Charlotte Bronson to be was a Chandler casualty.
A daughter-in-law, now, that was another story. “Looks like there are renewed sparks between Roman and Charlotte,” Raina said to Eric, pleased her youngest had shown emotion where Charlotte was concerned.
She didn’t put much stock in the way he’d sashayed from female to female tonight, ignoring the one who interested him most. And she knew Rick’s interest in Charlotte was purely platonic, meant to rouse his sibling’s jealousy and perhaps get him to make a move sooner rather than later.
Raina liked that idea. It just might work—if Roman didn’t kill Rick first. “Those boys will be the death of me,” she said aloud.
Eric bit into the carrots they’d loaded onto a plastic plate earlier. “You’re mothering again.”
“Do you think Roman’s gone after them?”
“Do you think he wants us speculating?”
Raina shrugged. “I’m sure the rest of the room’s doing the same. He wasn’t exactly discreet about his departure.” She tapped her fingernail against the seat of the metal folding chair. “Come to think of it, neither was Annie. Poor Charlotte. Do you think Annie’s depression
is curable?”
He sighed. “Do you think I’m going to discuss a patient with you?”
“Potential patient. Charlotte said she wants you to treat her mother—assuming she has any kind of condition other than lovesickness. Charlotte’s a sweet, caring woman. She’d make a wonderful wife and mother. Speaking of babies …”
“Let’s not.” Eric picked up another carrot from the plastic plate he held on his lap, dipped it into low-fat salad dressing, and popped it into Raina’s mouth.
She would have been offended if his tone weren’t so deep and compelling and his touch weren’t so warm. A long-forgotten heat rose inside her, starting in the pit of her stomach and spreading wide.
She chewed and swallowed the carrot, giving herself time to accept and adjust. “You’re trying to distract me,” she said when she’d finished eating.
“Your boys are gone. You don’t need to act so frail anymore. How am I doing?” He dipped and held up another carrot. “In the distraction department, I mean.”
“Not bad, for an old man.” She smiled, unable to believe she was flirting. Raina didn’t care if distraction was Eric’s intent, she liked the male attention and discovered she’d missed it more than she’d realized.
“Who are you calling old?” He dotted the carrot on the tip of her nose and quickly kissed off the bit of dip he’d left behind.
Desire she couldn’t mistake swelled in her chest. “You certainly don’t make me feel old,” she murmured. She didn’t even care that they were in a public place where anyone could see.
“I should hope not.” He laughed and leaned closer, so he could whisper in her ear. “And I’m betting in time I can make you feel even younger. So young you’ll forget your quest for grandchildren and think about only me.”
“I’d like to see you try.” And try, and try. As long as he continued to make her feel young, vibrant, and alive, he had her permission to experiment all he wanted. She hoped Roman intended to do the same.
The Bachelor Page 9
