And that should have been that. He should have walked out, gotten into his car, and driven away.
Instead, his feet moved purposefully toward her. Again, her eyes widened, but this time it was in alarm.
“What are you doing?” she asked warily.
“I have no idea,” he said, getting the words out somehow before he bent his head. The smell of roses hit him again, seeped through his skin, and heated his blood. His lips simply had to test the texture of her skin. For a millisecond, his mouth touched her temple. Petals. Satin. Soft.
“I wasn’t the only one who was aroused,” he muttered.
“Don’t...” Her voice was a mere whisper.
Hastily, he stepped back. What the hell was wrong with him? Without saying another word, he stormed out. At this moment, he could cheerily throttle his mother.
Chapter 2
Charlie was still standing with her hand on the doorknob, utterly bemused, when Lindsay returned from lunch. Inside were sounds indicating that Lilly, the young girl they’d hired to help them, had also returned.
“It is just the most glorious summer’s day outside. You should really take a walk. I love this time of year!” Lindsay sang, twirling around the office. Only when she caught sight of Charlie’s face did her smile fade. “What’s wrong?”
Charlie quickly moved forward and touched her sister’s hand. Lindsay was so much better since they’d made the move from South Africa to this lovely town two years before; she didn’t want to do or say anything that might upset her sister in any way.
“Nothing is wrong, sweetie, relax. I’ve just had a difficult client. You know, one of those who doesn’t think what we do is ‘professional.’”
“But weren’t you supposed to see Eleanor’s son over lunch? Don’t tell me he is the difficult client? Both Eleanor and her daughter are so sweet.”
“I know, right? I also find it hard to believe he’s related to such lovely free spirits as Eleanor and Brooke. You should see him—my fingers literally itched to mess up his hair and loosen his tie.”
Lindsay’s eyes widened in mock disbelief. “Mess up his hair? Loosen his tie? You seriously want to tell me my I’m-not-interested-in-men-period sister wants to actually touch a man? I have to see this guy!”
“Don’t be ridiculous, of course I don’t actually want to...to...” And suddenly the gentle pressure of warm lips against her temple replayed so vividly in her mind, she had to rub the place where his lips had been.
“Charlie?” Lindsay’s voice finally penetrated her thoughts. “Your eyes kind of glazed over there for a minute—care to tell me why?”
Fortunately, Lilly called over to Lindsay; there was a client in the shop asking for her, and Charlie didn’t have to answer.
“Don’t think you’re going to get away with it, it’s Friday night. Tonight, I’ll ply you with drinks until you confess.” Lindsay grinned as she walked in the direction of the little shop adjacent to Charlie’s rooms. “By the way,” she asked over her shoulder, “is there now a final date for your meeting in Seattle?”
“Yes, the second Friday in July—in about three weeks’ time. Why? You want to join me?”
“I’ve been thinking about it. There are quite a few companies selling essential oils in Seattle; it’ll be nice to try to see at least one of them.”
“Oh, Linds, that’ll be so nice. We haven’t been anywhere else since we arrived in Montana, and apparently Seattle is a beautiful city.”
“Great—I’ll check out flights and accommodation?”
Lilly appeared with Charlie’s next client. “Thanks.” She nodded to Lindsay before her sister slipped into her office.
Charlie greeted her client, but Lilly hovered. “So, tell me about the hot guy you saw earlier?” she whispered.
“Don’t you have work?” Charlie asked Lilly.
“Mmmm, this is serious.” Lilly giggled but before Charlie could say something, she left, waving her hand. “I’m going, I’m going!”
Charlie groaned. Lindsay was bad, but Lilly was worse. They were going to pester her until they had all the details and some juicy tidbits.
But apart from the fact that Logan Johnson was rude and a snob, there really wasn’t much else to tell anyone. Except to mention his very blue eyes, his broad shoulders, square jawline...
Exasperated with herself, she rubbed her face. She’d never had such a physical reaction to any man before. So why had she reacted like a sex-starved old maid? Okay, he was seriously attractive, but so were many other men. And it’s not as if she didn’t date or have sex. It had been a while, but she wasn’t sex-starved, for goodness’ sake.
But hopefully, this craziness would pass because she knew she could never get serious about anyone. Being dumped by her last boyfriend, Toby, because she couldn’t have children, had kinda driven home the fact that she wasn’t “marrying material,” as he’d nastily put it.
It had taken her a while to come to grips with her reality, but after nearly four years, she’d learned to let go of the picture she’d always had in her head of a loving husband, a couple of kids, and a ranch. Maybe she’d be able to have a ranch one day, but she could never have children, and day by day she was learning to live with that particular heartache.
What irritated her most about herself was that only after Toby had left did she realize how much she’d gone out of her way to try and make him happy, and if he hadn’t dumped her, she probably would still be jumping through hoops, trying to be the kind of woman he wanted.
From watching the way her friends made themselves smaller to keep the men in their lives happy, she could honestly say being in another relationship didn’t look all that appealing.
And after Lindsay’s experience with her last boyfriend, she’d let go of the idea of ever finding a loving husband.
It had taken her a while to discover who she really was, to dress to please herself and not a man, to do what made her happy and to live her life according to her rules and not someone else’s.
Men, as this one had just proven again, loved to be in control. And she could control her own life quite effectively, thank you very much. She certainly didn’t need a man to tell her how to behave.
And right now, her goal was to make a home for herself and Lindsay and to provide a calm and stable environment for her sister. Both of them had been lost after their parents’ sudden deaths. That period of turmoil, of grief, was probably the reason why Lindsay had fallen for the first guy she thought could give her stability. And Charlie had been so busy feeling sorry for herself, she hadn’t noticed the signs in time to warn her sister. And so Lindsay had ended up in a nightmare.
She put her hand on her heart. It was still racing like a runaway train. Aaargh, she was simply going to ignore this spark or jolt or whatever one called this craziness.
Fortunately, she wouldn’t see him again.
But as she walked back into her rooms where her next client was waiting, her hand strayed up to her temple again. Oh, my goodness, this was ridiculous. She had work to do; she didn’t drool over men.
Logan’s mother was looking perplexed. “I don’t think I follow you. You’re unhappy because you don’t think Charlie looked the right part?”
“No... Yes! And you deliberately let me believe Charlie is a man!”
“Since when does that make a difference?” his mother asked.
His sister, who had just popped in from her house next door, also had something to add. “I can just picture the scene. You all superior and haughty, telling her she wasn’t dressed according to Logan Johnson’s rules. How can I ever go back to Charlie and Lindsay? And they’re the best!”
“Mom, you were trying to set me up with her—don’t even try to deny it!” he bellowed.
Both of them fell silent for a moment before they burst out laughing.
Brooke was the first one to recover. “Set you up with Charlie? Mom will certainly never set up the lovely Charlie with someone as...as... Come on, Mom, help me. Descri
be your son.”
His mom finally stopped laughing. “My dear child,” she said and cupped his face for a moment, “I love you to bits, as you know, but you’re simply too...too ...” She looked at Brooke. “What is the right word?”
He scowled at his mom and sister. “Seriously? So, I’m the problem?”
Grinning, Brooke snapped her fingers. “Boring, Mom. Describes my brother to a tee.”
His mother nodded. Nodded! “Too boring for Charlie, in any case. The two of you would’ve made beautiful babies, but alas, no, sweetheart. You, my dear boy, are too predictable, too rigid, too controlling for someone like our Charlie. You’re too much like a...like a...”
“Man?” Brooke offered.
“I am a man, damn it!” he snapped, highly irritated.
“What I mean,” his mom said, “is Charlie needs someone who will get her, you know? And let’s face it, son, you prefer your women rake-thin, groomed within an inch of their life, and without any personality. And that”—grinning, she shook her head—“is not Charlie. Don’t you just love the way she dresses? It’s so rare to see a woman embracing who she is and dressing accordingly, without trying to please anyone else.”
“The way she dresses? Mom, she looks... I don’t even know how to describe her style. If you can even call it style.”
His mom’s eyes lit up. “It’s called Boho, and isn’t it fabulous?”
“Mom,” Brooke said and glanced at her watch. “If you want to change before we leave, you should hurry up, it’s getting late.”
“Go where?” Logan asked.
“Over weekends, we meet up with our friends in one of the local bars-slash-breweries. Everybody seems to be brewing beer these days, even in Alisson,” his mother said. “But don’t worry, I know it’s not your scene. I’ve made something for you to eat so you can go to bed early.”
Clair moved toward the front door. “Okay, Mom, I’m going to change. The babysitter is already with Connor; I’ll just get my bag. Ten minutes?”
“You realize I’ve come to visit you for the weekend?” he asked crossly.
His mother rubbed his arm. “Of course, but you told me how tired you were, and I thought you’d like to go to bed early tonight.”
“Not at half past six!”
“Well,” Brooke said from the door, “Friday nights, Mom and I go out. You’re welcome to join us, but that means you’ll have to lose the tie, and that’ll make you so unhappy,” she teased, before closing the door behind her, still giggling.
“Just relax and try not to work tonight,” his mom said.
“Damn it, I don’t want to go to bed!” he scowled. “I’ll come with you,” he muttered and walked toward his room. Spending the night at the local bar sounded infinitely better than sitting here and replaying scenes of his lips on Charlie Wilson’s temple.
They’d called him boring. He wasn’t boring; his workday was filled with exciting things happening all the time. The volatile financial market could never be called boring. Okay, yes, he liked neat and tidy women who knew he wasn’t interested in anything long-term, but that wasn’t boring. Was it?
A few drinks would also help him sleep better. His back was still killing him and on top of that, another part of his body was also still misbehaving.
Cursing under his breath, he looked around the room where he’d be staying. “Neat and tidy” weren’t concepts either his mother or his sister understood. Both were well-known and respected artists and both seemed to thrive in chaos.
It was obvious his mother had made an effort to clear out this room, but there was so much stuff, it seemed she’d given up halfway through the process.
Still cursing a blue streak, he opened his overnight bag. This was why he preferred his own space. The bag was exactly as he liked it—uncluttered, neat, tidy with nothing unnecessary lying around.
He still vividly remembered the way his whole world had fallen into disarray after his father had died. His dad had been the one who’d kept things together, and after he had gone, it seemed his mom simply gave up trying to keep things in order.
Tomorrow he’d spend time with Connor before he’d find an excuse to head back to Seattle. This clutter was driving him insane.
Roses. Why was he smelling roses? For the first time, he noticed the small vase his mother had filled with roses. Without really thinking about it, he picked it up and sniffed the delicate petals. And immediately he was back in Charlie’s rooms that afternoon, his mouth trailing a path over her satiny skin...
“Logan?” his mom called from downstairs.
He put the vase down quickly. What the hell was wrong with him, daydreaming about a woman he’d just met?
His mother was waiting for him at the bottom of the stairs. The twinkle in her eyes stopped him. Exasperated, he gave her a hug. “You’ve conned me into going with you tonight, haven’t you?”
She laughed. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Shall we take your car?”
“Yeah, right,” he said, but couldn’t help the grin. His mom was something else.
Chapter 3
“Oh, look,” exclaimed Lindsay, pointing toward the entrance to the pub. “It’s Brooke and her mother.” Her eyes widened. “And if I’m not mistaken, Eleanor’s son is with them. No tie, though.” She giggled and waved.
“Lindsay, no!” Charlie hissed, but Lindsay was already calling out to them. Charlie was sitting with her back toward the door, so she had a few minutes to try and compose herself before the Johnson family reached their table.
“Hi,” she heard Brooke’s voice calling out. “I was hoping we’d get to see you guys tonight.” She bent down to hug Lindsay while Eleanor greeted one of the Johnsons’ other friends sitting at a nearby table.
“Charlie!” Eleanor called out in her usual flamboyant way. “How delightful to see you.”
She was forced to look up to say hello. A pair of dark blue eyes raked over her; her words and breath collided and blocked her throat. She couldn’t breathe, let alone talk.
Logan stood right behind his mother. Sans tie, sans jacket, and in a pair of tight-fitting jeans. Jeans? She wouldn’t have thought he even owned a pair. And oh, my... A black T-shirt hugged a muscled torso in all the right places. Was it her imagination, or was it suddenly very hot in the bar?
Logan moved, muscles rippled underneath his shirt, and wow... Her heart skidded to a halt. How was she supposed to sleep that night?
With difficulty, she tore her gaze away from him to greet Caitlin. The man was ridiculously attractive and had the most extraordinary effect on her insides.
Lindsay’s eyes were dancing with mirth. She held out her hand to Logan with a sideways look in Charlie’s direction. “Logan, hi. I’ve heard quite a lot about you, actually.”
“I can image,” sniffed his mother and sat down next to Lindsay. “Charlie, I can only apologize for my son, thinking that I’d set him up with you. Yes, he’s told me. And why he would think you’re a man, I have no idea.”
Logan pulled out the chair next to Charlie, and again, she couldn’t help but notice his stiff movements. Wincing, he sat down, his leg brushing against hers.
“There, right there,” his mother said, pointing at his face, “is the reason I made an appointment for him. He’s been in pain for the last six months.”
For the life of her, Charlie couldn’t get a word out. Heat waves radiating from Logan’s body in her direction were having the strangest effect on her vocal cords.
“How did you hurt your back?’ Lindsay asked him.
“I tripped while hiking,” he said curtly, clearly uncomfortable talking about it.
“He has this beautiful cabin near a river; we often join him there,” Eleanor said. “But he doesn’t switch off nearly enough. He probably hurt himself because he was dead on his feet,” his mother added. “He never stops working.”
“Mom, that’s enough.” Logan got up, his movements stiff. “What can I get you all to drink?”
Ever
yone gave an order and he walked away.
“Charlie, I’m really sorry about this afternoon,” Eleanor said, watching her son’s retreating back. “He’s in so much pain, but he’s a workaholic and never takes time to go and see a therapist or a doctor; he makes me so mad.”
Charlie shrugged. “We’ve had one session, but it’s not enough to make a difference. I would’ve preferred to see him tomorrow and to also have a session on Sunday. And ideally, in a week’s time again. I could give him names of therapists in Seattle, of course, but it’s clear he doesn’t think the therapy can help. Anyway, tell me about your Pilates class,” she asked Eleanor. It was a favorite topic of the vivacious older woman, and thankfully she launched into a hilarious account of her last session.
They were all giggling when Logan returned to the table with their drinks on a tray. He bent slightly forward to put the tray down but wincing, he placed it way too close to the side. Charlie quickly grabbed the tray, to prevent it from tipping and sending all the drinks to the floor, then moved it to the middle of the table.
“Thank you,” he said after everyone had taken their drinks.
“Charlie says you should see her tomorrow and Sunday, as well,” his mother said.
He frowned. “Well, today’s session was a waste of time...I’m still in pain. I can’t see—”
Keeping her eyes on her drink, she interrupted, trying to explain the process. “You may not feel it yet, but your body has already begun the healing process. Two more sessions over the weekend will make all the difference. And I can give you contact details of therapists you can see in Seattle in a week’s time.”
“Hi, Charlie,” someone called out. Tod, the owner of the bar, walked toward them. Either he or his partner, Larry, usually stopped by their table on a Friday night for a quick chat.
“Hi, Tod, lovely evening.” She smiled.
“Tod,” Lindsay interrupted, “this is Eleanor’s son, Logan. Tell him about your back.”
Kissing Charlie Page 2
