One More Moment

by Samantha Chase

  She let Tami know that she’d been stood up. Her friend invited her to come over to talk, shocked to hear Charlotte was walking the beach alone at night.

  While she appreciated her friend’s concern, Tami had no idea just how often Charlotte indulged in this kind of activity and there was no way she was going to admit to that right now.

  Charlotte: I promise to text you when I get home—which should be soon.

  Tami: Don’t make me get in the car, CC. Because if I don’t hear from you in 1 hour…

  Charlotte: I promise! Geez. Relax.

  She signed off with a heart emoji before sliding her phone back into her purse and laughing again. It would have been easy to be annoyed with her friend for fixing her up with a no-show, but she couldn’t. The whole Oliver thing wasn’t really Tami’s fault, and as for her being concerned…well, it was nice that someone cared about her.

  She was beginning to feel like no one else did.

  “Okay, dramatic much?” she murmured with a sigh.

  Unfortunately, now that Tami had put the thought in her head about her safety, Charlotte no longer felt particularly relaxed. Slowly she came to her feet and brushed the sand from her dress. Inhaling deeply, she looked out at the waves one more time before reaching down for her purse. When she turned around, she nearly screamed.

  Julian.

  He stood ten feet away from her and his expression was unreadable.

  Charlotte normally believed in coincidences, but she was having a hard time accepting this situation was just that. The hopeless romantic side of her—which didn’t come out very often—really wanted to think he’d been hoping to find her here or that he’d specifically been looking for her. But from everything she knew about Julian, he was too stubborn and strong-willed for such things.

  They stood like that—facing one another, silently assessing—for a few minutes.

  “Hi,” she said finally, but didn’t make a move toward him. The breeze off the water kicked up and her hair was blowing wildly; her long skirt whipped against her legs. She groaned at what a mess she must look like but she still couldn’t make herself move.

  It took all her self-control not to sag with relief when he finally took a step toward her. “What are you doing out here alone so late?”

  And her foolish heart kicked hard in her chest at his gruff question.

  “Just getting my daily beach fix in.”

  But Julian shook his head even as he kept advancing. “You were out here this morning before you went to work,” he said, his voice low and almost tortured. “Every morning this week you’ve been out here. I can see you from my deck. Try again.”

  He knew she’d been here earlier? How…? Why…?

  Swallowing hard, she said, “I was heading home and wanted to come out here for a bit. I enjoy watching the sunset. A girl can get two daily beach fixes, you know.” She meant to sound defiant, but she had a feeling it didn’t come out quite that way.

  Julian’s gaze roamed over her from head to toe.

  And Charlotte cursed how unsexy the windblown look was on her.

  They were almost toe to toe and she studied him with equal interest. His jeans were faded and hung low on his hips, his T-shirt was of the threadbare variety and looked like he’d owned it for years. And his hair was a wreck, just as hers was.

  And then there was the five-o’clock shadow.

  It should have been a full-grown beard by now and yet it wasn’t.

  But that didn’t mean she didn’t want to feel it scratching her sensitive skin.

  Everywhere.

  Charlotte held her breath while she waited for Julian to call her out on the admission, but he didn’t. Instead, he reached up and stroked one strong finger along her cheek right before his hand cupped it. Her lips parted on a sigh and—unable to help herself—she leaned into his hand.

  “What are you doing out here?” she asked softly.

  “Waiting for you,” he replied, so quietly she almost didn’t hear him. And before she could respond, Julian closed the distance between them. He felt so warm and solid and wonderful that she forgot what she was going to say.

  Not that it would have mattered, because Julian lowered his head and gently touched his lips to hers. There was an uncertainty to him—a vulnerability—and it was quite possibly the sexiest thing about him. She loved the fact that he was comfortable enough around her to be like this.

  One soft kiss turned to two and Charlotte slowly ran her hands up his arms.

  Julian’s tongue gently teased at her lips as her hands raked up into his hair.

  And then she was lost.

  They went from slow and sweet to nothing but need in the blink of an eye. Charlotte knew this was why she wasn’t disappointed about being stood up—no one made her feel needy and out of control the way Julian Grayson did. Her date wouldn’t have been like this.

  It couldn’t.

  They kissed until they were breathless, and when Julian lifted his head, he began a trail of kisses along her cheek and nipped at her earlobe before shifting and resting his forehead against hers.

  “Why can’t I stay away from you?” he asked, but Charlotte had a feeling the question was more to himself than her. Reaching up, he caressed her cheek. “I should be able to stay away, but I just can’t.”

  Trembling, she mimicked his pose and savored the scratchiness of his jaw. “Right now, I’m kind of glad you didn’t stay away.” It was good that she was looking down and couldn’t see his reaction to her words. She knew how cagey he could be and the last thing she wanted to do was have him take off on her—not after the second-hottest kiss of her life.

  “Come home with me, Charlotte,” he begged quietly. “Please.”

  No words had ever sounded sweeter to her.

  “We don’t have to do anything but talk, if that’s what you want.” He paused. “I’ve missed seeing you, talking to you.”

  Pulling back, this time she did meet his gaze. “I’ve missed seeing you too.”

  If it were possible, Charlotte would say he looked relieved and almost…grateful.

  Julian reached for her hand and they walked up the beach toward his house. Neither said a word, and Charlotte was thankful for these few minutes to get her emotions under control. Maybe it was the same for him.

  At the foot of the stairs that led to his deck, she stopped and took her hand from his, pulling her phone from her purse. Julian looked at her quizzically.

  “I promised my friend Tami I’d text her when I got home.” As soon as she said the words, she realized how it sounded. “I mean—”

  “She wants to know you’re safe,” he finished for her and then caressed her cheek again. “You are, Charlotte. I promise.”

  There were so many ways she could take that statement, but rather than analyze it, she quickly typed a message to her friend and slid her phone back into her purse. With a smile, she held out her hand to him. “Thank you.”

  He kissed her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze before turning and leading them up the stairs. At the top, Julian made to keep walking, but Charlotte stopped and turned to look at the view. She gasped softly.

  “Breathtaking.”

  Julian stepped up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist. “Yes, you are.”

  Charlotte knew she was blushing, thankful the moonlight was the only light on her. She leaned back against him and relished how good he felt, how perfect the view was, and how happy she was to be exactly where she was.

  “I bet you get an amazing view of the sunset up here.”

  “There’s no better view than the one I have right now,” he said quietly.

  And if their night ended right here—if for some reason Julian decided to take her back to her car and wish her a good night—she’d be okay with it.

  But then he began nuzzling her neck and h
er head fell slightly to the side as she purred with pleasure at his lips on her skin.

  Okay, maybe she wouldn’t be all right with leaving, because she wanted so much more of this—of what he was offering—that she was almost frantic with need.

  “Julian,” she said breathlessly.

  “Come inside, Charlotte,” he whispered against her throat.

  Slowly, she turned in his arms and nodded.

  And as Julian led the way into the house, she knew nothing was ever going to be the same.

  Chapter 5

  It was almost as if Julian had conjured her up in his mind.

  That had been his first thought when he’d walked out onto the back deck earlier and spotted Charlotte. He wasn’t normally someone who sat outside alone at night, but he’d been restless and it was as if something was drawing him there. And that something was now stepping tentatively into his temporary home.

  She looked around with wide eyes as she took in the space. The house was rather impressive and had an incredible view, but that wasn’t what he wanted to talk about right now. Instead, he pulled her in close and kissed her again—not with the urgency he’d felt a few minutes ago, but just because he could. And because they seemed so in sync with one another, she melted against him and he felt her begin to relax.

  His hands went to her waist and all he could think of was what was she wearing under her dress. There were tiny straps on her shoulders and he could tell she didn’t have on a bra, but what else was she wearing—or not wearing—under there? His hands slowly slid around to cup her bottom and he gently squeezed, confirming there were panties.

  Good to know.

  Except now he wanted to find out what kind they were—silk or lace? What color?—and whether he was going to remove them with his hands or teeth.

  Yeah, his mind went there.

  “Come sit down,” he said as he reluctantly ended the kiss. Honestly, he would be perfectly content kissing her all night long, but it wasn’t particularly realistic and he wanted to honor his promise for them to sit and talk.

  Charlotte nodded and followed him. He chose the sofa in the living room that faced the beach, and while she sat, he opened the sliding doors to let the ocean air in.

  “Can I get you something to drink?”

  “Some water. Please.”

  Nodding, Julian went to the kitchen and grabbed each of them a bottle, and then joined her on the sofa.

  “It’s an amazing view,” she said, looking straight ahead and not at him. “You’re lucky to have a place like this.”

  “It’s temporary, but I’m enjoying it.” As soon as he said it, he knew there was a chance Charlotte would want to know more. Honestly, it wasn’t what he wanted to talk about right now.

  Or ever.

  “I know I would,” she said, giving him a shy smile. “I’ve always lived in Malibu, but never close to the beach. I’ve looked at other cities to see if I could afford a house on the beach anywhere else, but…I can’t. Not on a social worker’s salary.”

  He nodded. “I grew up on the East Coast near Myrtle Beach, and the beach was only two blocks away. My mom used to complain we weren’t close enough. I can definitely see the appeal—especially after being here—but it’s not nearly private enough.”

  “You could always look into buying your own island,” she teased and then laughed softly.

  “Right,” he said, laughing with her. “Because that’s not completely overreacting to the need for privacy.”

  She shrugged. “I don’t know, I hear about people doing that sort of thing all the time. I watch a lot of HGTV. There’s even a show about it.”

  “About people who buy islands?”

  “Uh-huh. And sometimes it’s only a couple of acres—you know, big enough for a house or two—and sometimes they’re a little bigger. I’m not talking about buying an island that’s big enough for a small city or anything.”

  “Well, that really would be excessive…”

  She laughed and it was like music to his ears. “Just a bit.”

  “I think I appreciate modern conveniences too much to live on my own island. Getting takeout would be a bitch.”

  That kept Charlotte laughing, and Julian found he wanted to keep doing it.

  “Can you imagine the delivery fee for a pizza?” he joked.

  “Or the wait time?” she said.

  Her cheeks were a little rosy and her eyes were bright, and she just…she was beautiful. Charlotte Clark was quite possibly the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen and she wasn’t even trying. Julian had dated models and actresses before, and all of them had been the kind of women who never had a hair out of place and wore designer clothes. In the short time he’d known Charlotte, he’d seen her looking anything but glamorous and she rarely seemed to wear makeup, yet she took his breath away.

  Reaching out, he carefully ran a hand over her hair and took one long, loose curl and wrapped it around his finger. It was just as soft as he’d imagined it would be. Self-consciously, she pulled back and tried running her own hands over her hair to try to tame it, but he stopped her.

  “Don’t,” he said. “I think it’s very sexy like this.”

  Charlotte gave him a look of disbelief. “It’s a windblown mess,” she said quietly, glancing away. “I probably should have tied it back in a ponytail or something before heading down on the sand.”

  But Julian shook his head. “No. I was watching you while you were standing down there and was a little fascinated by your hair. You wear it up more than you wear it down and…” He paused and took that one curl around his finger again. “I really like it when you wear it like this.”

  She blushed and looked like she was about to argue with him, then thought better of it.

  “Can I ask you something?” he said, still playing with her hair.

  “Of course.”

  “Why social work? I mean, I know it’s an admirable career and what you do to help people is amazing…”

  “But…?”

  He grinned. “How do you deal with it? It never ends—there are always people needing something from you. How can you possibly not end every day feeling a little defeated?”

  “There are plenty of days where I do feel like that, believe me,” she began. “Some days there don’t seem to be any winners, and there’s nothing I can do to make things right for anyone.” With a shake of the head, she continued. “But then there are days when everything goes right and…you have no idea how gratifying it is to know that I’ve helped someone—I’ve made a difference in their lives and given them hope.”

  Julian released her hair and took her hand in his, feeling how soft her skin was too. “How do you make yourself go back after a bad day?” he asked gruffly. “On those days when no one gets the help they need or you just feel overwhelmed by it all, how do you find the strength to go back the next day and try again?”

  For a long moment, Charlotte didn’t respond. She looked at their linked hands and sighed quietly. “Because I have to,” she finally said. “I can’t let one bad day—or a hundred of them—defeat me. I know there are going to be times when I just want to throw in the towel and find a job that isn’t quite so emotionally draining. Then I remember the days that leave me feeling so happy and hopeful, and I cling to those. And somewhere in between the highs and lows are days that just…are. Things go okay, nothing major happens, and it’s all kind of textbook.” Then she shrugged. “That’s sort of what life’s about, right?”

  “What do you mean?”

  She considered him. “There was a movie I remember seeing a long time ago—I can’t even remember the name—but this one scene stood out to me. A man was arguing with his wife about their lives. He wanted everything to stay the same and for things to be what he considered normal. Well, they had three kids and were suddenly expecting a fourth, and the three they had w
ere each having trouble in their own way, and on top of it, his elderly grandmother came to live with them.”

  “That doesn’t sound familiar…”

  Charlotte held up her finger to tell him there was more. “Anyway, they’re arguing about what’s normal and what’s not and their expectations about how life is supposed to be when the grandmother comes in and starts to talk about carnival rides—the merry-go-round versus the roller coaster. And basically, she was saying how some people prefer the merry-go-round because there are no surprises, it just goes around and around. But some people prefer the roller coaster because of all the twists and turns and surprises. And that’s how she looked at life. Are you someone who loves the merry-go-round or the roller coaster?”

  Julian knew she wasn’t specifically asking him that question, but…it certainly had him thinking. A few years ago, he would have said roller coaster, hands down. But now? Now he was telling himself he wanted—needed—the merry-go-round. And in the last few weeks he would have said he couldn’t be swayed from that thinking. But as he sat here with Charlotte and knew there were possibly some twists and turns and surprises—at least where the two of them were concerned—he found himself looking forward to them.

  All of them.

  “Personally,” Charlotte said, interrupting his thoughts, “I’m a roller coaster person who sometimes wishes for the merry-go-round.”

  Tilting his head, he asked, “How come?”

  “There are times when I’m working on a case and I know it’s going to get bumpy and complicated and rough for everyone. Sometimes I’d like to be able to step away and let someone else take my place when there’s bad news to share. I hate disappointing anyone, and I hate when the system doesn’t work.” She paused. “I have some coworkers who don’t have any one-on-one with our applicants. Their job is to process the paperwork, so to them, these people are just a name or a number on a page. But I look at them. I see them. I see the hope or the desperation on their faces and it’s sometimes so hard to do that.” Then she smiled ruefully. “Roller coaster.”

  He nodded in understanding. “I get it. With the band, every day was a roller coaster no matter how much we had things planned out and scheduled. We had rankings to worry about constantly and the need to stay on the charts and be relevant. There was always a line of people between us and all of that, but it trickles down and ultimately, it was up to us to make the music and put in appearances and do what we could to charm the public.”