The Bachelor

by Carly Phillips

  Annie shook her head. “If you’re right, at least she won’t spend her life waiting for him to come back. Feeling alive only during visits.”

  Russell looked at his wife, seeing her, their past, and their future all together now. He’d thought that by remaining in her hometown, Annie would be happy, but instead she was miserable. By choice, he admitted. “Whether she waits for Roman’s sporadic returns or she turns her back on him and ends up alone, either way it will be cold and lonely. And you damn well know it.”

  She rested her head on his shoulder. “I’m not cold or lonely now.” She sighed, her breath warm against his neck.

  No, Russell thought, she was accepting and he was coming to hate that word. Annie accepted. Whatever he did and whatever life threw her way. He’d once believed he could make them both happy, but that notion had shattered quickly. Nothing would make Annie truly happy unless he gave up on himself and settled in Yorkshire Falls. And even then, a part of Russell had always suspected that wasn’t the answer. Not that it mattered.

  He hadn’t been able to forfeit his life for her, any more than he could get Annie to leave this town behind. He’d committed himself to her. They’d each chosen their way of life. He couldn’t say they lived full or happy lives; still, they carried on. He loved her as much now as he had way back when. But he’d done no one a favor by letting her have her way.

  Least of all his daughter.

  Charlotte deserved to choose her destiny as well. But she deserved to make an educated decision. “She needs to know, Annie. She needs to understand the choices we made.”

  “What if she hates me?”

  He held her close. “You raised her well and she loves you. In time she’ll come to understand.” And if she didn’t, well, at least he and Annie would free her from repeating the past. He hoped.

  Roman caught up with Charlotte walking down First Street. He beeped once, then slowed his car alongside her. She glanced over and kept walking.

  “Come on, Charlotte. Get in the car.”

  “You don’t want to deal with my mood right now, Roman.”

  “Any woman who admits to being in a mood is all right by me.” He kept the car at a slow crawl. “Where are you going?”

  She tilted her head his way. “Home.”

  “Is your fridge as empty as mine?”

  “Go away.”

  He wasn’t taking no for an answer. In fact, he had three things guaranteed to change her mind. “I’ll take you for Chinese food, I’ll get you out of town, and I won’t discuss your father.”

  She paused.

  “And in case those promises don’t sway you, I’ll start honking the horn, making a scene, and I won’t stop until you’re buckled in next to me. The choice is yours.”

  She swung around, yanked open the door, and flung herself into the seat beside him. “It was the Chinese food that got to me.”

  He grinned. “I wouldn’t presume anything else.”

  “Good. Because I wouldn’t, for one second, want you to think it had anything to do with your charm.”

  He hit the gas pedal and headed on out of town. “You think I’m charming?” he asked.

  Arms folded, she eyed him warily.

  In the wake of her silence, he said, “I’ll take that as a yes.”

  She shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

  Obviously she wasn’t in the mood for verbal games. That was okay. As long as she was within two feet of him and he could keep an eye on her, he was happy.

  Twenty minutes later, they were seated in a typical Chinese restaurant—red velvet brocade wallpaper and dark sconce lighting added to the ambience.

  A waiter led them to a corner table, half booth, half with chairs. A family of four, two adults and two young boys, were noisily eating beside them on the right. A fish tank sat in one corner and an indoor pond full of tropical fish was located to their right.

  “Okay with you?” Roman asked Charlotte, of the table. He didn’t mind the kids, but he couldn’t gauge her mood.

  A smile pulled at her lips. “As long as I don’t order fish, this is fine.” She slid into the booth.

  He could have sat across from her and kept his distance. Instead he chose to join her, trapping her between himself and the wall.

  She greeted him with an obviously fake pout. “You don’t play fair.”

  “Did I say I would?” He recognized the verbal sparring as a means of avoiding anything serious. He wondered how long it would last.

  Charlotte shook her head. She couldn’t focus on Roman now. Instead she looked past him to the family of four. The two blond-haired boys had trouble gleaming in their eyes as one brother lifted a crispy noodle, held it between his thumb and forefinger. He narrowed his gaze, getting ready to flick it. His brother whispered something in his ear and when he shifted for a different angle, Charlotte figured he was egging him on. Their parents, engaged in serious conversation, seemed not to notice.

  “He wouldn’t,” Roman leaned back and whispered.

  “I wouldn’t bet the ranch.” She used the old cliché. “Actually, in your case, I wouldn’t bet the suitcase.”

  “Ouch.”

  She ignored him, watching the kids instead. “Ready, aim, fire,” she whispered in time to the boy’s actions.

  As if on cue, the kid sent the hard noodle, which had broken in two, soaring into the air before it took a less-than-graceful plop into the goldfish-strewn water.

  “Can a fish die from being hit with a fried wonton?” she asked.

  “What about swallowing a fried wonton? If he were my kid, I’d grab him by the collar and dunk him headfirst. After I silently applauded his aim.”

  “Spoken like a man who’s seen his share of trouble as a kid.”

  He shot her the incredible smile that melted her insides and made her want to crawl into his lap and never leave. Dangerous thought. She bit down on the inside of her cheek.

  “I can relate to him. My brothers and I caused plenty of trouble when we were young.”

  She turned toward him and leaned forward in her seat, resting her chin on her hands. “Such as?” She needed to get lost in happy times. Other people’s happy times.

  “Let’s see.” He paused in thought. “I’ve got one. There was the time Mom attended back-to-school night and left Chase to watch me and Rick.”

  “Chase ruled like a dictator?”

  “When he was awake, yes. But that night he fell asleep.” Laugh lines touched the corners of his eyes as he recalled the memory.

  “Please don’t tell me you tied him up.”

  “Hell, no!” He sounded offended. “Give us some credit for imagination. Let’s just say Mom’s makeup case offered a wealth of possibilities.”

  She felt her eyes opening wide. “He didn’t wake up?”

  “The only benefit to having Chase as a pseudo-dad was that he slept like a dead one. We made him look mighty purty,” Roman said with a deliberate southern drawl. “His date thought so too.”

  Charlotte let out a whoop of laughter. “No kidding?”

  Roman shook his head. “He was eighteen, dating a college freshman, and she’d offered to meet him at our house so they could leave as soon as Mom got home. Doorbell rang, we woke him to answer it …”

  Charlotte didn’t hear the rest; she was laughing too hard, tears running own her face at the absurdity. “Oh, I wish I could have seen that.”

  He leaned closer. “I have pictures.”

  She wiped at her eyes with a linen napkin. “I have to see.”

  “Marry me and I’ll show you.”

  Charlotte blinked and sat up straighter in her seat. The boys were joking nearby, the scent of egg rolls drifted toward her, and Roman was proposing marriage? She had to have heard wrong. Had to. “What?”

  He grabbed for her hand, holding it close and tight within his strong, heated grasp. “I said, marry me.” His eyes grew wide and he seemed stunned he’d spoken the words, but he obviously wasn’t too stunned to repeat them.
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br />   She was floored. “You don’t … I can’t … you can’t mean that,” she managed to sputter. Her heart beat frantically in her chest and she had trouble catching her breath. Two surprises in one day. First her father, now this. She reached for the water, but her hands shook so badly she had to put the glass down before she dropped it.

  He raised the glass and held it to her lips. She took a long, cold sip, then licked the droplets off her mouth. “Thank you.”

  He nodded. “I didn’t mean to blurt it out that way, but I did mean every word.”

  She wondered when the room would stop spinning. “Roman, you can’t possibly want to get married.”

  “Why not?”

  She wished he’d look away, anything to break the connection, because those mesmerizing blue eyes were begging her to say yes, and to hell with the hows and whys. But her father’s timely return had shown her exactly why she couldn’t follow her heart. “Because …” She shut her eyes and attempted to formulate the best answer. The one that made the most rational sense. The one that explained their differences.

  “I love you.”

  Her eyelids fluttered open wide. “You can’t …”

  He leaned forward, one arm propped over the back of the booth, and he shut her up with a kiss. A warm, heart-melting kiss. “You need to stop using that word—can’t,” he murmured, his mouth still lingering over hers. Then he locked his lips with hers again and swept his tongue deep inside, consuming her, until a low growl rose in her throat.

  “Hey, Ma, look! They’re French kissing.”

  “Eew, tongues and all. Can they do that in public?”

  Charlotte and Roman broke apart. The heat from an embarrassed blush rose to her cheeks. She shook her head and laughed. “This from the kid who was using fish for target practice.”

  “I asked you a question,” Roman said, all too serious.

  “And you have to know my answer.” Her heart beat painfully in her chest. “I …” She licked her damp lips. “You’ve seen my parents, you know my mom’s life. How can you ask me to repeat it?” She hung her head, wishing with everything in her she could sustain the righteous anger she’d summoned at the baseball game, even if she had transferred her feelings from her father to Roman.

  “I’m not asking you to relive their lives.” He held her face in his hands. Gently. Reverently.

  The lump returned to her throat. “Are you planning on living in Yorkshire Falls?” She already knew the answer and prepared herself accordingly.

  He shook his head. “But”—his fingers tightened around her face—“I’m looking into possibilities. I don’t want to lose you and I’m willing to work out a compromise. All I’m asking you to do is keep an open mind. Give me time to work out something we’ll both be comfortable with.”

  She swallowed hard, unable to believe what she was hearing, unsure if she could trust in the intangible and not get hurt. Then again, she’d be hurt losing him any way things played out. She wanted more time with him before the inevitable happened.

  If the inevitable happened. She shoved all thoughts of her parents from her mind. She’d have to deal with them soon enough. Roman had used the word compromise, which meant he was taking her needs into consideration. Unexpected adrenaline flowed through her system. “You said you loved me?”

  He nodded. Swallowed. She watched his throat move convulsively up and down.

  “I’ve never said that to anyone else.”

  She blinked back moisture. “Me neither.”

  His hands fell from her face to her shoulders. “What are you saying?”

  “I love you too.”

  “He’s gonna do it again,” one of the kids at the other table yelled.

  “Eww,” his brother repeated, twice as loud.

  Roman laughed and she felt his pleasure as strong and intense as her own.

  “Can you imagine having a houseful of boys?” he asked.

  “Don’t even joke about something so serious.”

  He ignored her and merely grinned. “Boys run in my family and we both know it’s my genes that determine sex. And think about how much fun we could have making those babies.” His fingertips began a rhythmic massage of her shoulder muscles that turned into erotic foreplay.

  Roman’s children. She trembled from the inside out, wanting more than she ever believed possible and knowing it was probably out of reach. They still had much to work out before she could let herself think about that kind of future.

  But he’d touched her heart—owned it, actually. He always had, from the night he’d shared his deepest dreams and she’d had no choice but to push him away in response.

  She hadn’t made any concrete decisions, but she knew she wouldn’t push him away now.

  “Ready to order?” a tall, dark-haired waiter asked.

  “No,” they both said at the same time.

  Charlotte didn’t know how, but minutes later, stomach still empty and a twenty-dollar bill left on the table, they were back on the road, headed home, and half an hour after that, she let them into her dark apartment.

  She hit the switch in the hall and the overhead lamp came on, bathing them in muted light. He kicked the door closed behind him and pulled her into his arms. Standing, she leaned against the wall as his lips came down hard on hers. His need was blatant, apparent, and as deep as her own. She shed her jacket, dropping it to the floor, and Roman made even faster work of her jersey, until she was wearing only her red boots, blue jeans, and white lace bra.

  He sucked in a shallow breath as he traced the floral pattern with roughened fingertips. Her nipples pebbled beneath his touch and her body coiled tight, desire spiraling through her at a rapid pace.

  “You’ve got to be hot in all those clothes.” She reached for the collar of his jacket and pulled it down, letting it join hers in a heap.

  His blue eyes glittered with anticipation and desire. “What I’m feeling goes way beyond hot.” He pulled his navy shirt over his head and tossed it aside. It hit the wall behind them and dropped with a muted thump. “Your turn.”

  A steady rhythm took up residence between her legs, and moisture accompanied his seductive words. Excitement was her companion as she bent over and pulled at her boots to get them off, but her hands shook and the leather seemed to mold tighter to her foot.

  “Let me.” He knelt down and pulled first one red snakeskin boot off, then the next, before turning his attention to the button on her jeans. He worked it like a pro, his strong hands lowering the zipper, then easing the waistband over her hips.

  Her legs shook and only the wall supported her as he brought the heavy denim around her ankles. And stopped. She tried to wiggle one foot free, but the darn jeans were too narrow at the bottom.

  “Don’t bother. I’ve got you right where I want you.” He knelt on the floor at her feet and looked up at her. A wicked grin tugged at his lips and a satisfied expression settled on his handsome face.

  She was held captive by more than confining clothing. She was imprisoned by desire and bound by love. Love he reciprocated. And when he bent over, his hair dark against her white skin, white-hot arrows of desire shot through her body, a distinct combination of erotic craving and emotional need.

  She wanted nothing more than for him to satisfy the divergent desires, but knew nothing less than him being inside her would do. He met her gaze and must have read her mind, because instead of pleasuring her with his mouth as he’d seemed intent on doing, he worked her pants off and rose to his feet. In seconds, he was as undressed as she was, gloriously naked and as aroused as she.

  He stepped toward her and held out his arms. “Come.”

  She did as he asked and soon he’d lifted her into his arms, her legs wrapped around his waist, her hands looped around his neck, and, once again, her back against the wall. His body heat and strength seeped into her, cocooning her in warmth and arousing her even more.

  “I need you inside me,” Charlotte said.

  Roman groaned. “I need the s
ame thing.”

  It took some jockeying, but she finally felt his erection, large and full, ready to enter her. And when he thrust inside her, her heart opened to all possibilities. How could it not, when he was full to bursting inside her?

  As he moved, every hard ridge of his arousal caused a glorious friction inside her that built stronger with each successive thrust of his penis higher and deeper than before. She couldn’t catch her breath, didn’t need to, as sensation after sensation washed over her, carrying her up and over the edge and into the most explosive climax she’d ever experienced—because it was marked by love.

  His shuddering groan told her he’d felt it too. She loved him. And later, as she fell asleep in his arms, she wondered why she’d denied herself the admission for so long.

  Charlotte awoke and stretched, feeling the cool sheets on her bare skin. The sensation of waking up alone was normal and alien at the same time. No different than most mornings of her life, and yet because she’d slept through the night snuggled against Roman’s body, the chill was unwelcome and disturbing. So were the emotions that buffeted her still-dream-fogged brain.

  She understood his reasons for kissing her and slipping out in the dead of night and she appreciated the respect he showed her in front of a gossipy small town. But she missed him, wanted to make love to him again. She loved him. Each thought frightened her beyond belief.

  Rising, she went about her morning routine, attempting to pretend everything was still the same. Hot shower, hotter coffee, and a quick jump down the steps to work. Yup, Charlotte thought, same routine. But there was no getting around the fact that she was different.

  Because she’d committed herself to Roman with those three little words. I love you. And now that the words were spoken, she feared her life was about to change forever. If history was anything to go by—her mother’s, her father’s, and even Roman’s—it wouldn’t change for the better.

  On that disturbing thought, she entered the unlocked shop, hoping the familiarity of the ruffles and lace and the vanilla potpourri she freshened daily would soothe her nerves. She stepped inside and the unexpected smell of lavender assaulted her senses, jarring her and destroying any sense of soothing sameness she hoped to find here.