* * *
WHILE STARLA READ a book, Charlie took his daughter into his shop, and they spent a couple of hours working on the gift for his mother. It was a project Charlie had started some time back. The wood needed to be stained and varnished. Meredith loved that part, and he enjoyed their time together. He should have thought of letting her help a long time ago. He’d been preoccupied and he was only just now recognizing what he’d been doing to his relationship with his child.
Later, after they’d eaten, Charlie watched Starla and Meredith load the dishwasher and caught the look Starla cast him beneath her lashes. He didn’t know if it had been luck that brought her to the Elmwood diner only two nights ago, or fate that had dropped her off at his door in a blizzard, but he wasn’t stupid enough to pass up a good thing when it landed in his lap.
He handed her a plate and their fingers brushed. It amazed him still that a woman as incredibly beautiful and as charming and as much fun as Starla would even look at him twice.
Okay, he didn’t need a mask to keep from scaring small children away, but he was no Brad Pitt. He wasn’t particularly tall—Starla stood nearly eye-to-eye with him, which didn’t seem to matter to her. He had nice hair, he guessed and preparing healthy food for Meredith and himself had kept him in relatively good shape. Starla seemed to enjoy his company. Didn’t expect anything of him. Made him laugh. Made him crazy.
Charlie felt more at ease around her than he had around anyone he could think of and he barely knew her. Why was that? He found himself being uncharacteristically playful, saying things he wouldn’t normally say, being a person he’d never been with his wife or any other woman.
He felt confident in being whomever he wanted with Starla. She had no preconceived notions about him—he could project anything he wished. She didn’t expect anything from him or want anything from him.
She was comfortable to talk to, fun to be around, safe to play with. Because she’s leaving.
He pointedly ignored that thought. “Time for bed, sweetie,” he said to Meredith. “Brush your teeth and I’ll be right in.”
“You’ll read me a story?”
“Maybe even two.”
Meredith squealed and dashed to her room.
While Starla added detergent and started the wash cycle, Charlie leaned against the counter and thought over their talks. Somewhere in the midst of all that banter about honesty and playful talk about kidding oneself, a lot of truth had been revealed. When Starla had asked who he was and he’d responded who knew, he had been directly on the mark.
Charlie had never had the freedom to learn who he was. He was a responsible son, a dependable husband, doting father. He was everything that others expected of him, but nothing he had deliberately chosen for himself. He hadn’t really even picked his own wife.
A knot of remorse formed in his gut at the thought.
When he’d been orphaned at a young age, the Phillips family took him in as their own. Kendra had been gracious and kind, just like her parents, and the two had become friends and childhood sweethearts. When they reached high school age, everyone thought Charlie and Kendra were the perfect couple, and Charlie’s adopted parents were no exception.
The blush of young love had faded—for Charlie anyway—but by that time the town had linked their names and expected a wedding. Wed they had, but they’d grown apart and eventually, after Meredith was born, they’d slept in separate rooms. Charlie could never have disappointed the Phillipses by divorcing their daughter.
He was not resentful, never had been; the Phillipses were wonderful people, and he loved them. He’d loved Kendra in his own way. But he hadn’t been in love. And he bore his share of guilt for that. She’d deserved better than an obligatory husband.
Charlie watched Starla wipe the counters and rinse out the dishcloth. He had never been attracted to his wife in the way he was to this woman. She had loosely fastened her hair up in a clip, revealing her slender neck and delicate ears. Yesterday the thought of kissing her would have been a dream.
Starla turned out the kitchen light and faced him. “All finished.”
A quiver of anticipation zigzagged up his spine. Maybe she’d let him kiss her again? There had never been anyone before Kendra. And afterward, well, Elmwood was a small town. He’d had a few casual relationships, but as soon as he was seen with someone, the local gossips had them walking down the aisle, so he simply avoided that particular noose and had even considered moving away. But he could never take Meredith from her grandparents. They were her only family. So he stayed. And had very few opportunities for kissing.
“I’ll be back after story time,” he said.
She picked up a cup of tea she’d made for herself. “I’ll look for a movie. Unless you want to play a game or something.”
Always offering him choices, this woman. He smiled. “Okay, a game.”
She moved gracefully toward the living room and he went to tuck in Meredith. Of course his daughter chose two long stories that night, and Charlie did his best to do them justice. Meredith had fallen asleep by the end of the second one, so he tucked her in with a lingering kiss on her forehead and turned out the light. He left the room, shutting her door.
Starla had lowered the lights and set up the checkerboard on the heavy coffee table and pulled it nearer the fireplace. “This okay?” she asked, looking up.
The firelight created shadows on her exquisite face. Just looking at her took his breath away. “This is great.”
He sat at an angle from her where he could lean back against a chair.
“Want to make the first move?”
His brain fuzzed over for a moment, but he collected his senses and looked at the game board. “After you.”
She turned the board so that she had the black checkers and moved one.
After several moves, she jumped one of his men. Two plays later and she had another. “Are you concentrating?”
He shook his head. “Do you really want to do this?”
Her gaze moved across his face. “I’m not sure what you’re asking.”
“I’m asking if you want to play this game or if you’d rather just get right to what’s on our minds.”
She smiled then. “What is on our minds, Charlie? I mean, are you thinking about more of what happened this afternoon...you know, kissing me?”
He was definitely thinking about kissing her, but he didn’t want to rush either of them into anything. “I don’t really have a plan,” he replied easily. “I’m pretty flexible.”
“Can we just see where things go naturally?” she asked. “Without too many expectations?”
“You don’t know how perfect that sounds to me,” he replied, appreciating her frankness and her reluctance to rush.
She picked up her iced tea and took a sip.
The next move would be his, and he should put her at ease as she had with him. He reached across the space separating them, took her free hand and urged her closer. She scooted across the floor until they were hip to hip and he could place his arm around her while she shared the chair as a backrest.
They sipped their drinks and watched the fire. There was no rush, no expectation, and the silence was comfortable.
“Have you ever been married?” he asked her finally.
“Not even close. You know I was on the road with my dad a lot, and then I went to college, but I was intent on my studies. I hung around with a few guys, but nothing serious.”
“But you’ve been in relationships.”
“A couple.” She turned and looked up at him. “Are you asking me how many guys I’ve dated?”
“No. I’m asking about your life. I’m curious.”
She turned her gaze away.
“And initially I guess I was asking to make sure you didn’t have a husband.”
She sat forward and frowned at him. “Charlie! Do you think if I was married I wouldn’t have told you right off?”
“I don’t know. You could be estranged.”
“And if I was, then what? You’d care?”
“Well, yeah, I’d care.”
She snuggled back against his side. “Good.”
He lowered his face and smiled against her hair. Inhaled. Closed his eyes to savor the sweet enjoyment of having this woman to hold.
Starla could afford to be selective, and the fact that she seemed even slightly attracted to him blew his mind.
She didn’t want him to expect anything of her. Ironic, because he had no idea what to expect. She was mysterious and unpredictable. She was perfect. And she was here for the time being. What more could he want?
A log shifted in the fire, and sparks flew up the chimney. She placed her cup on the table and leaned into him, her warmth and softness traveling like liquid flame up his side and through his blood.
What more could he want?
CHAPTER NINE
CHARLIE. SHE EVEN liked his name. It was an unpretentious name. Like the man. “Is your name Charles?”
“Yes.”
“What’s your middle name? No, let me guess.” She looked up into his smiling eyes.
He placed his other hand on her shoulder.
“Perhaps your middle name is Shortribs, or Sheepshanks, or Laceleg?”
Charlie laughed, a full-out chortle that came from his toes, and she loved that she could amuse him. “You heard us reading Rumplestiltskin, didn’t you?”
She shook her head. “Didn’t have to, read it to her myself yesterday.”
He finished his drink and set the glass aside. “Well, no, but you’re warm.”
She leaned toward him and placed a finger on his chin. “David.”
“No.”
“Richard.”
“No.”
“William.”
He raised his brows. “How’d you do that? You saw something with my name on it.”
“I’m psychic, did you forget?”
He reached behind her head and fumbled for the clasp that held her hair and within seconds the barrette was out and her hair draped her shoulders. “Come on, how’d you guess so easily?”
“Simple. Charles is a classic no-nonsense name, so it only figures that your middle name would match.”
“What’s your middle name?” he asked.
“What, you can’t guess?”
“Probably not in a million years. If it’s logical to assume that the first name matches the middle, which I don’t know is a sound theory, by the way, Starla is pretty unusual. But it definitely suits you.”
“So you don’t want to guess?”
“If I guess it, will you spin straw into gold for me?”
“That’s not how the story goes at all, and you know it. If you guess it I spare you some terrible fate.”
“The little man in the fairy tale intended to take the queen’s child if she couldn’t guess his name. You’ve already returned my daughter. So what will you not take from me?”
“What do you want to keep that I could take away?”
He brought his hand to her jaw and caressed her cheek. “My better judgment?”
As if she could influence him to that degree. He seemed pretty grounded in all areas as far as she could tell. Her heart fluttered all the same. “You’ll never guess it anyway, Charlie.”
“Then you can have my good sense.” He tucked her hair behind one ear and traced the ear with his finger. “Moonbeam.”
She grinned. “Nope.”
“Luna.”
She shook her head.
“Venus.”
She pulled a face. “No.”
His hands tightened on her shoulders and his expression grew serious. “Angel?”
She shook her head.
“Angelica.”
“You’re not going to guess it, Charlie.”
“I’ve only just started.”
She figured their time could be better spent. “It’s Astrid.”
He tipped his head. “I might have gotten around to that.”
“Not in a million light-years, you wouldn’t have.”
“You don’t know that.”
She laid her hand along the side of his jaw, the texture of his skin like an aphrodisiac to her rising greed—she wanted to experience more of him and she didn’t want to wait. “But it would have taken you all night and do you really want to guess names all night?”
“I don’t care what we do as long as you’re right here.”
The first time she’d seen him, that night at the café, she’d recognized his intensity, and her first impression had been accurate. Charlie was a man of strong passions. She imagined what being with him would be like if he loved her, and that fantasy ignited a new fire in her being.
Starla had been telling the truth about having had only a couple of relationships. But she’d had numerous dates and met many men who had only one thing in mind—the conquest. Their single-minded selfishness was a turnoff she’d learned to avoid in her teens, and her caution had served her well over the years.
Whatever it was about her appearance that made people think she was aloof and self-assured was a facade. She was as vulnerable and uncertain as the next person, possibly more so, because she couldn’t be certain the attention was sincere.
Charlie’s lips covered hers again—and she shut out all other thoughts, all memories and disappointments and hopes and simply...felt. Charlie.
She pulled back slightly and framed his face between her hands. “Kissing you is like opening a gift, Charlie.”
“A good gift?”
“A lovely gift. Anticipated and unexpected at the same time. Kissing you is like knowing you have a gift in your hands, but having no idea what’s inside. At that moment, anything is possible.”
“Unless you open it and are disappointed.”
“Don’t wreck my analogy, Charlie. I was sharing how nice it is to kiss you.”
“I appreciate the encouragement.” He shook his head. “You’re just so unexpected. A month or...or even a week ago I could never have dreamed up someone like you dropping into my life. You’re like a Christmas present, too.”
“Charlie?”
“When you say my name...it’s the best feeling.”
“I’ve never talked so much with a man.”
“Is that okay?”
“It’s great.”
He stepped forward and took her hands in his, raising them to his lips. “You’re beautiful.”
“Don’t say that.”
He kissed each of her fingers, making them tingle. “Me saying that you’re beautiful bothers you?”
She hesitated. “Beauty is relative. And superficial. And sometimes an affliction.”
“Then you admit you’re beautiful.”
“I realize some people think I am.”
“And you don’t want me to be one of them?”
“I don’t want what you think of my looks to be the reason you...like me.”
“I understand.” Her words made perfect sense. Charlie appreciated her feelings. “I think you’re the most incredible looking woman I’ve ever laid eyes on, but that isn’t the only reason I’m attracted to you. Hey, if looks were everything, you wouldn’t be here with me now.”
She framed his face with both palms. “I happen to like the way you look, too.”
CHAPTER TEN
STARLA WOKE TO the sound of the shower running. She glanced at the clock. Meredith would be up soon.
She slipped on her sweatpants and sweatshirt. As she unlocked the door, she glanced back at the rumpled bed,
sheets and blankets strewn off the bottom and side and experienced a twinge in her heart. She had tossed and turned, thinking about her feelings for Charlie
Turning on the water in the guest shower, she set the temperature. After stripping off the clothing, she stepped under the spray and enjoyed the hot water buffeting her hair and body. Shampooing her hair, she thought of Charlie’s praise for her beauty. It felt so different from others who had said the same.
Toweling off and drying her hair, she put things into perspective. Extraordinary circumstances had led to an extraordinary encounter, one that wouldn’t have happened if things hadn’t occurred the way they had.
She was immensely grateful for the way the last few days had unfolded. It was likely she’d never see Charlie again once the weather cleared and her truck was towed. But she would always have these unforgettable memories to treasure.
Downstairs a phone rang. She dressed in a pair of jeans and a long-sleeved shirt and pulled on her socks and boots. Prepared for the day and to face Charlie, she descended the stairs.
Meredith was on the floor in front of the entertainment center watching television. “Morning, Starla!”
“Morning, hon.”
Charlie was in the kitchen on the phone and as she approached she heard his side of the conversation. “That’ll be great, Janet. What time do you think Russ will get here? Terrific. We’ll be waiting. Bye.”
Charlie hung up the phone. He looked at Starla, and a warm smile tugged his lips upward. “Good morning.”
Her skin warmed at the look and the knowledge of those few kisses that passed between them last night. “Morning.”
“Good night?” he asked.
“Fishing?” she replied.
He nodded.
“I had a great night,” she told him truthfully.
A pause stretched between them and if they’d been alone, they would have met in a reassuring embrace. Instead, Charlie said, “That was Janet Carter from town. Her husband has a sleigh and he’s coming by to get us.”
“Really?”
Meredith must have overheard, because she shot past Starla to look up at her father. “With the horse, Daddy?”
“Yep. Tonight is the Christmas program at church.”
Stowaway Angel Page 9
