The Bachelor Read online

  His high school crush had become one hell of a beautiful woman. His mouth grew dry and beneath the table, he had one hell of an erection he’d never be able to hide. This woman always had the damnedest effect on him, Roman thought, and his pulse kicked into high gear as he waited for her to stop at his table.

  All the while, Rick muttered in his ear, reminding Roman of why he’d hated having big brothers. “Five, four, three, two …”

  And just when she’d have to stop and acknowledge him, she cut a sharp right turn and headed for the table where Beth had settled in to wait.

  He groaned and turned back to face the firing squad he called his siblings.

  “Looks like she’s going to make you work for it, little brother.”

  Hadn’t she always?

  Chase laughed. “Bet you’re not used to being ignored. It’s got to be hell on the ego.”

  “Shut the hell up,” Roman muttered. He hadn’t forgotten that one night in high school. Though he’d always considered Charlotte the one that got away, he’d never forced the issue between them. It wasn’t that he was afraid of hard work or even another rejection. He’d always had the inclination to pursue her; he’d just never had the time.

  Things had changed. Back for a prolonged stay, Roman was no longer content to let her deliberately ignore him. It was time to push the issue.

  Roman had returned. Charlotte’s stomach churned; disbelief and shock rippled through her. Her initial glimpse through the store window and the hunch she’d tried to ignore hadn’t prepared her for the impact of seeing him again.

  Drat the man anyway. No one on God’s green earth had the ability to affect her the way he had. One look, and she felt like a hormonal teenager all over again.

  The passage of time had affected his good looks—for the better. Age had defined him in incredible ways. His face was leaner, more chiseled, and, if possible, his eyes were a more striking shade of blue. She shook her head. She’d been too far away to know for sure—at first because she’d been in front of the restaurant, giving him time alone with Beth, and afterward because her palms were sweating and she was mortified she couldn’t regain her composure.

  But Charlotte was certain one thing about Roman hadn’t changed—his reporter’s instincts. With one glance, he not only saw, he dissected. And she didn’t want him dissecting her.

  “Your hands are shaking,” Beth said.

  Charlotte took another hefty sip of the soda her friend had ordered for her. “It’s the caffeine.”

  “I think it’s testosterone overload.”

  Somehow Charlotte managed to keep from spitting her cola at a grinning Beth. “You mean hormone overload?”

  “Whichever. That table of hunky male flesh has you hot and bothered.” She gestured with a flip of her hand toward the corner occupied by the Chandler brothers.

  “Don’t point,” Charlotte said.

  “Why not? Everyone else in Norman’s is staring at them.”

  “That’s true,” she said, then realized she’d missed her opportunity to deny having seen them. Ignoring the brothers had been her plan. At least until she’d eaten something and steeled her defenses against Roman’s unsettling impact.

  She folded her damp palms, one on top of the other. “But not me. I’m immune.”

  “You always were. Or you pretended to be,” Beth said with the wisdom she’d lacked in her youth. “Not that I understand in the least.” She shook her head. “Never had, never will.”

  Charlotte hadn’t ever told her best friend the truth about why she’d rejected Roman. In high school, she’d had her defenses a mile high, and next thing she knew, Roman had turned from Charlotte’s rejection to Beth’s willing arms. Despite the pain and the jealousy, Charlotte had encouraged her friend’s interest, pretending to be immune, as Beth had just said. Then they’d graduated and Roman had taken off for parts unknown.

  Charlotte hadn’t asked how serious their relationship had been. She often told herself it was out of respect for Beth’s privacy, but the truth was more selfish than that. Charlotte hadn’t wanted to know. And unlike the news of her plastic surgery, Beth had been discreet on the topic of Roman.

  But times had changed and Beth was engaged to another man now. Roman was so far in her past, Charlotte contemplated tackling the topic tonight.

  “He’s still really good looking,” Beth said.

  Charlotte changed her mind about a heart-to-heart talk. “Hey. If you’re still interested in Roman, have at him. If Dr. Implant doesn’t mind, then I don’t.”

  “Liar.” Beth tossed her napkin on the table and folded her arms across her chest, a smile pulling at her lips. “I saw the way you looked him over before he turned and noticed you. And I saw how you shifted your gaze and walked right by, like you didn’t even see him there.”

  Charlotte twisted uncomfortably in her seat. “Is it too late to ask, see who where?”

  “Chicken.”

  “We all have our weakness, so quit ruffling my feathers. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go to the ladies’ room.” Charlotte made a quick escape without a glance in Roman Chandler’s direction. But as soon as she hit the narrow hallway that led to the restrooms, she wiped her damp palms against her gauzy skirt.

  Five minutes later she’d touched up her lipstick and reminded herself of all her achievements, so if she absolutely had to make polite conversation with Roman, she’d be able to do so with poise and ease.

  With a new attitude, she pushed open the door and walked smack into Roman’s broad chest. The incredible scent of musky aftershave and potent male surrounded her. Aroused her. She sucked in a surprised breath.

  As she stepped back on unsteady feet, he grabbed her forearms with both hands. “Easy.”

  Easy? Was he kidding? His palms felt warm, solid, and too good on her bare skin. She looked up into his blue eyes. “This is the ladies’ room,” she said inanely. She sighed. So much for poise, sparkling conversation, and wit.

  “No, this is the hallway. The ladies’ room is behind you and the men’s room is down the hall.” He grinned. “I should know. I practically grew up here.”

  “I need to get back to my table. Beth’s waiting. Beth Hansen, you remember her, right?” Charlotte rolled her eyes This was getting worse and worse.

  To her chagrin, he laughed. “Well, at least now I know you remember me.”

  She didn’t pretend to misunderstand him and couldn’t bring herself to lie. “I was late, in a rush, Beth was waiting.” She lifted her hands, then let them fall to her sides.

  “So you didn’t mean to ignore me.”

  A burning flush rose to her face. “No. I … I have to go. Beth’s waiting for me. Again.”

  His rough hand brushed her cheek and a tremor of awareness shot through her body, a quiver he couldn’t possibly miss. “I’ll let you get back to your table as soon as I ask you a question. It’s been ten years and the attraction between us is still going strong. When are you going to give in?”

  When hell freezes over came to mind, but she clamped her mouth shut. Because she didn’t really mean it, for one thing, and because he didn’t deserve such a crushing rejection, for another.

  She licked her dry lips. “When are you going to give up trying?”

  He grinned. “When hell freezes over.”

  He would have to mimic her thoughts. She leaned back against the wall for support and protection, but it meant little when Roman took another step forward, locking her body between the wall and his lean, hard, masculine frame.

  Years melted away as his hands bracketed either side of her head and his lips hovered near her jaw. The warmth of his breath against her cheek and the pressure of his body against hers felt tantalizingly good, making her wonder why she’d resisted him for so long. Her eyelashes fluttered closed and she allowed herself to enjoy the erotic sensations pulsing through her veins. For the moment, she reminded herself. No longer.

  He was attractive and out of reach, like the exotic destination
s she researched and dreamed about but would never visit. Because she wasn’t her father and her life was here. Stability and a solid future were tied to this town, to having roots. But Roman’s lips nuzzling at the soft spot between her jaw and her ear made her want to forget safety and routine. Warmth trickled through her veins, moisture dampened her panties, and she wanted so much more than she’d let herself admit before.

  “Have dinner with me on Friday.” His throaty voice reverberated in her ear.

  “I can …” His lips settled on her earlobe, his teeth nuzzling exactly the right spot. White hot arrows of desire shot to other, more private, sensitive areas and the wash of sensation made her body come alive. She moaned aloud, ending her sentence and cutting off any negative contraction she’d intended.

  His teeth nipped, then alternated with delicious laps of his tongue, at once fierce yet feather-soft and light, and more seductive than the deepest desire she’d ever harbored inside her. If his intent was to sway her, he was doing an amazing job. His lips lingered, damp and warm, undemanding yet so very seductive at the same time. A small voice in her head tried to rebel, reminding her this was Roman and he’d leave as soon as his mother was well, or as soon as he grew bored with this town. With her.

  She ought to walk away. Then he caressed the shell of her ear with his tongue and blew lightly on her damp skin. Oh, but he tempted her, and a moan escaped her barely parted lips.

  “I’ll take that as a yes,” he whispered.

  She forced her eyelids open. Yes to a date with him? “No.”

  “That’s not what your body’s telling me.”

  He didn’t step back, which made this rejection harder than any she’d delivered in the past—because he was right. “My body needs a keeper.”

  A charming grin touched his lips. “Now, that’s a job I wouldn’t mind taking.”

  “Only while you’re in town, of course.” She forced an easy smile.

  “Of course.” He finally stepped back, giving her much-needed breathing room. “You should know, I’m a man who appreciates a challenge, Charlie.”

  She stiffened at the use of her father’s nickname for her. He’d chosen her name, Charlotte Bronson, in honor of his favorite actor, Charles Bronson. “Charlotte,” she corrected Roman.

  “Okay, Charlotte, you pique my interest. You always have. And if I can admit it, so can you.”

  “What’s the difference what I’m willing to admit? You don’t always get what you want in life.” Lord knew she rarely had.

  “But if you try sometime, you just might get what you need.” He propped one shoulder against the wall and grinned.

  “I’m impressed. You know the Rolling Stones.” She applauded for effect.

  “Better. I know how to apply their words to life.” He pushed himself off the wall and rose to his full height. “Mark my words, Charlotte. We will have another date.” He started down the long hall, then turned back. “And based on your reaction and mine, we’ll probably share a whole lot more.” His voice rang with certainty and promise.

  “Okay, sure, Roman. We’ll have that date, all right.”

  At her words, his eyes opened wide.

  “The day you decide to stay in town.” And since that would never happen, Charlotte thought, neither would his proposed date. He posed no threat to her at all. Yeah, right.

  “The more you challenge me, the more determined I get.” He laughed, obviously not believing she meant what she had said.

  Little did he realize she was deadly serious. Nothing more could happen between Charlotte and the carefree world traveler, unless, of course, she wanted to end up alone and abandoned, like her mother.

  But Roman had thrown down the verbal gauntlet. Now all she had to do was remain strong enough to resist.

  CHAPTER THREE

  By the time Roman walked out of Norman’s and into the cooler night air, he had a job to do.

  Chase had gotten an emergency call from his editor, Ty Turner, who needed to miss the town meeting in order to accompany his pregnant wife to the hospital. The last thing Roman wanted to do was take over that assignment, but he did want to lighten his brother’s load. So he volunteered to cover the meeting.

  And so, while Rick headed to a pay phone to call and check on Raina before heading back to work, and Chase retired to do some work for next week’s edition, Roman was on his way to tonight’s bickering session.

  He glanced at his watch, noting he had a few minutes to kill. A few minutes to browse the seductive shop next door and figure out who owned it. One look at Charlotte, and he’d nearly forgotten his own name. No way he’d been focused enough to ask her about her new business.

  He focused on the window display and his mouth opened wide. Were those crocheted panties on the amazingly lifelike mannequin? In the conservative town of Yorkshire Falls? He couldn’t have been more astonished. He felt a distinct rush of arousal when he realized that raven-haired mannequin bore an uncanny resemblance to Charlotte. Suddenly realizing he looked like an old lech leering at women’s lingerie, he stepped back. God, he hoped to hell no one was watching, or he’d never live down the embarrassment.

  Roman took another step back and bumped against something hard. He turned around to find Rick, arms folded across his chest, grinning at him. “See something you like?”

  “You’re a laugh riot,” Roman muttered.

  “I figured you were revisiting your youth.”

  Roman couldn’t mistake Rick’s meaning. Leave it to his middle sibling to remember Roman’s high school prank, done back when his idea of fun had been a panty raid at a friend’s house, where the girls were having a slumber party. Not only had it been his idea, but he’d been so damn proud he’d hung a pair from his rearview mirror for about twenty-four hours. Until his mother had found them and given him a blistering lecture and punishment he’d never forget.

  Raina Chandler had a unique way of curing her sons’ most incorrigible habits. After a summer of rinsing his boxers and hanging them to dry in front of the house, he’d never subject anyone to that same humiliation again.

  With any luck, the rest of the town had long forgotten. “I can’t believe a shop like this is making it here,” he said, changing the subject.

  “It is. Young and old, slim and the more … robust— they all shop here. The younger ones anyway. Mom’s on a crusade to get the older women in here too, and she’s one of the most loyal customers.”

  “Mom wears these panties?”

  The brothers shook their heads at the same time, neither wanting his imagination to travel down that path. “How is Mom?”

  “Hard to tell. She sounded winded when I called, like she’d been running, which is impossible. So I’m heading on over to check myself.”

  Roman exhaled hard. “I’ve got my cell phone. Call me if you need me.”

  Rick nodded. “Will do.” He then walked along the street by the store, turned right at the corner leading to the apartments above, and returned soon after.

  “What’s going on?” Roman asked, recognizing a walk-by when he saw one. His brother was patrolling the area and Roman wanted to know why.

  Rick shrugged. “Yorkshire Falls had a couple of break-ins over the weekend.”

  Roman’s reporter’s instincts kicked in. “What was stolen?”

  A smile Roman could only describe as wicked settled on his brother’s mouth. “If I weren’t with you myself at the time of both break-ins, you’d be my only suspect. But I’ve got squat.”

  “Panties?” Roman shifted his gaze from his brother to the assortment in the window, then back again. “You’re telling me some idiot broke into a house and stole women’s underwear?”

  Rick nodded. “I’d have filled you and Chase in over dinner but Norman’s was too crowded to talk privately. It seems the good people of Yorkshire Falls have an actual crime spree on their hands.” Rick filled Roman in on the details of the thefts. It turned out that all of the stolen panties had been purchased at the store they were stand
ing in front of now.

  Roman glanced at the window once more. The panties in question were there for the world to see. Who owned this place? The Charlotte he’d known might not have been brazen enough to open this shop, but the one he’d seen dressed in bright colors and who’d laid down that challenge, well, she was another woman entirely.

  “Are you going to tell me who owns this place?” he asked Rick.

  A gleam danced in his brother’s eyes and Roman’s instincts went on high alert, confirming what he’d already suspected. When Rick remained silent, a knowing look on his face, Roman did the obvious. He took a step back and glanced up at the awning.

  A burgundy overhang with hot pink trim and bold calligraphy stared back at him. CHARLOTTE’S ATTIC—HIDDEN TREASURES FOR THE BODY, HEART, AND SOUL.

  “Hot damn.” Apparently he’d been too quick to discount the possibility. Charlotte, Roman’s Charlotte, owned this sensual, erotic shop.

  Because she was a sensual, erotic woman, as she’d proven to him in Norman’s back hall. He’d proven something to himself as well. He was a man with healthy carnal appetites, and it had been too long since he’d indulged those.

  “Don’t you have someplace to be?” Rick asked.

  Roman ignored his brother’s laugh, slapped Rick on the back, and headed off to town hall.

  Twenty minutes later, Roman was overwhelmed by complete and utter boredom. The things he did for family, he thought and yawned as he waited for the architectural review portion of the evening to end. Though he could barely concentrate, he jotted notes just the same. He waited, pen hovering over his pad.

  “Next up. Petition for variance to put dog door in the front entrance of 311 Sullivan Street, in the Sullivan Subdivision. Neighbors complain said door will destroy uniformity and beauty of subdivision—”

  “My beagle Mick’s entitled to have free access to his home.” George Carlton, petitioner, rose to his feet, only to be jerked back down by his wife, Rose.

  “Hush up, George. It’s not our turn to speak.”