01 - The Heartbreaker (37 page)

Charlotte exhaled an exaggerated sigh. “Considering the interest this store’s been getting, I don’t need help attracting more attention of any kind.”

As for men, she hadn’t had a date since her New York City days six months before, and though she was sometimes lonely, she wasn’t ready to begin the dating routine again—the long meals with drawn-out silences or the obligatory good-night kiss in which she inevitably had to grab her date’s wandering hand before any real groping could begin. Although, if she were ever to complete her life with a husband and kids added to her career, she’d have to get back into the dating game one day soon.

“Every woman needs more male attention. It’s an ego boost and who can argue with that?”

Charlotte frowned. “I’d rather a man be—”

“Interested in your mind instead of your face or body,” Beth parroted, hands on her hips.

Charlotte nodded. “That’s right. And I’d give any man the same respect in return.” She grinned. “Am I beginning to sound like a broken record?”

“Maybe a little.”

“Tell me something. Why is it the men who attract me are only interested in the packaging and don’t stick around for the long haul?” Charlotte asked.

“Because you’ve dated the wrong men? Or maybe it’s because you don’t give them a chance. Besides, it’s a proven fact that the packaging attracts a man first. A smart guy, the right guy, will get to know you and then you can blow him away with your brilliant brainpower.”

“Men who go for looks first are too shallow.”

“There you go again. Jumping to generalized conclusions. And I beg to differ.” Beth placed her hands on her hips and scowled Charlotte’s way. “It’s the packaging that makes the first impression,” she insisted.

Charlotte wondered why Beth could assert one thing when she was living proof of another. If Beth believed in a man being attracted to packaging first and then getting to know and appreciating a woman for who and what she was, why had she undergone plastic surgery
after
meeting her fiancé? Charlotte cared too much for her friend to hurt her by asking.

“Look at this store, for example.” Beth waved a hand through the air. “You sell the packaging, and hence you’re responsible for the rejuvenation of many relationships and marriages that have gotten stale.”

“I can’t argue with you there.” Charlotte had been told the same thing by many of her customers.

Beth grinned. “Half the women in this town are getting lucky, thanks to you.”

“I wouldn’t go that far.”

Her friend shrugged. “Whatever. The point is, aren’t you sending the message that packaging is important?”

“I’d rather think I’m sending the message that it’s okay to be yourself.”

“I think we’re saying the same thing, but I’ll drop it for now. Did I tell you David offers packages? Eyes and chin, uplifts and implants.”

Charlotte rolled her eyes. As far as she was concerned, Beth had been perfect before going under the knife, and Charlotte still didn’t understand what had compelled her to think she needed to change. And Beth obviously wasn’t talking. Just advertising her soon-to-be husband’s services.

“Has anyone mentioned you’re beginning to sound like an advertisement for your plastic surgeon?”

Beth smiled. “But of course. I plan to marry the man. Why not boost his business and our joint bank account at the same time?”

Beth’s mercenary words were at odds with the sweet, down-to-earth woman Charlotte knew her to be. Another subtle change in Beth that Charlotte had noticed since her return. Like Charlotte, Beth had been born and raised in Yorkshire Falls. And like Charlotte had once done, Beth would move to New York City soon. Charlotte hoped her friend enjoyed the bright lights and big city. She remembered her own experience there with mixed feelings. At first, she’d loved the busy streets, the frantic pace, the glow of light and life even late at night. But once the newness faded, an emptiness grew. After living in a close-knit community like Yorkshire Falls, the loneliness had been overwhelming. Something Beth wouldn’t have to deal with, since she was moving to New York to be with her husband.

“You know I’m never going to be able to replace you,” Charlotte said wistfully. “You’re the perfect assistant.” When Charlotte had decided to leave her sales manager job at a posh New York City boutique and open Charlotte’s
Attic back home, it hadn’t taken more than one phone call to convince Beth to leave her job as a receptionist at a real estate office to come work with Charlotte.

“I’m going to miss you too. This job has been more rewarding than anything else I’ve done.”

“That’s because you’re finally putting your talent to use.”

“Thanks to your vision. This place is incredible.”

Charlotte merely blushed. She’d been worried about a chic boutique succeeding in her small, upstate hometown. It was Beth who’d pushed and supported her emotionally during the preopening stages. Charlotte’s concern had been unwarranted. Thanks to television, the Internet, and magazines, Yorkshire Falls’ women were ready for fashion. Her store was a hit—if somewhat of an oddity among the old-time shops that still remained.

“Speaking of talent, I’m so glad we chose this aqua color instead of black.” Beth fingered the strings tied tightly around the back of the mannequin.

“It’s the exact color of the water off the Fiji Islands. The Koro Sea, and the South Pacific Ocean.” Charlotte closed her eyes and envisioned the setting depicted in the brochures she had in her backroom office.

Not that she planned to travel, but the dream of faraway places had beckoned to her for as long as she could remember. As a young girl, pictures of idyllic resorts nurtured her hope that her errant father would return and share what she’d perceived as his glamorous life. Today she couldn’t squelch the occasional urge to see exotic places, but she feared that desire made her too much like her father—selfish, shallow, and ungiving—so she settled for photos instead. Like the ones in her office portraying glistening water, white frothing waves, and hot sun heating bare skin.

“Not to mention the aqua color will complement the rest of the summer window display?”

Beth’s voice intruded on Charlotte’s thoughts and she opened one eye. “That too. Now be quiet and let me return to my daydream.” But the spell had been broken.

“It’s hard to get used to looking at bathing suits when we’re just coming off winter.”

“I know.” Besides luxurious and basic undergarments, Charlotte also sold some fashionable eclectic pieces—sweaters in the winter, bathing suits and matching cover-ups in the summer. “But the fashion world works on its own schedule.”

And so did Charlotte. The cold air had barely begun to give way to a slight March warming trend, but Charlotte dressed for the summer season anyway, in shockingly bright colors and light fabrics. What had started as a bid to lure people into her store had worked. Now word of mouth brought people to her store, and she’d grown to love the clothes she wore.

“I was thinking we could put the bathing suits in the right-hand corner of the display,” Charlotte told Beth.

“Sounds like a good plan.”

Charlotte dragged the mannequin toward the window overlooking First Avenue, Yorkshire Falls’ main strip. She’d been fortunate in nabbing the perfect location, formerly Guy’s Clothing Store. Charlotte wasn’t worried about putting another retail store in the space because her merchandise kept up with the times. She’d had six months at the old rental before a rent increase kicked in, time enough to get her business off the ground, and her success told her she was on the right track.

“Listen, I’m starving. I’m going to grab some dinner
next door. Want to join me?” Beth grabbed her jacket off the rack in the back and slipped it on.

“No, thanks. I think I’ll stick around and put some finishing touches on the window display.” Charlotte and Beth had accomplished an almost complete overhaul of inventory today. It was easier to get things done when the store was closed than during business hours. The customers didn’t just enjoy shopping, they enjoyed chitchat as well.

Beth sighed. “Suit yourself. But your social life is pathetic. Even I’m better company than those mannequins.”

Charlotte started to laugh, then glanced at Beth and saw something more in her friend’s eyes than a good joke. “You miss him, don’t you?”

Beth nodded. Her fiancé had come up almost every weekend, staying Friday through Sunday night before returning to the city for the work week. Since he’d missed this weekend, Charlotte figured Beth probably wasn’t looking forward to another lonely meal.

Neither was Charlotte. “You know what? Go get a table and I’ll meet you there in five . . .” Her voice trailed off as she caught sight of a man outside the window.

Jet-black hair gleamed in the sunlight and a pair of sexy sunglasses were perched on the bridge of his nose, obscuring his face from view. A worn denim jacket covered his broad shoulders, and jeans hugged his long legs. Charlotte’s stomach did a flip, bringing a warm sensation to her belly as recognition flickered with possibility.

She blinked, certain she’d been mistaken, but he’d backed far enough away that he was gone from view. She shook her head. Impossible, she thought. Everyone in town knew Roman Chandler was off traveling and reporting the news. Charlotte had always respected his ideals, the
burning desire to expose unreported injustices, even if she didn’t understand the needs that kept him far from home.

His aspirations had always reminded her of her actor father’s. So had his good looks and charm. A wink, a smile, and women swooned at his feet. Heck,
she’d
swooned, and after a lot of flirting and lingering looks, they’d gone on their first date. One night—a night in which she’d connected with Roman on a meaningful level. She’d fallen hard and fast, as only a teenage girl could. And a night during which she’d discovered Roman’s intention to leave Yorkshire Falls as soon as the opportunity arose.

Charlotte’s father had abandoned his wife and child for Hollywood years before. With Roman’s declaration, she’d immediately recognized the devastation he could leave in his wake.

She had only to look to her mother’s lonely life to find the nerve to act on her conviction. She’d walked away from Roman that same night, lying that he didn’t “do it” for her. And she hadn’t let herself look back, no matter how badly she hurt—and she had hurt.

Look, don’t touch. Smart rules for a girl who wanted her heart and soul intact. She might not feel like dating now, but when the right man showed himself, she would. Until then, she’d abide by her rules. She had no intention of following the same path her mother had taken, waiting for the wanderer to sporadically return, so she wouldn’t involve herself with a restless soul like Roman Chandler. Not that she had to worry about such a thing. No way was he in town, and if he were, he’d steer clear of her.

Beth’s hand on her shoulder caught her by surprise and she jumped.

“Hey, you okay?”

“Fine. I just got distracted.”

Beth flicked her blond hair out from beneath her collar, then opened the door to the street. “Okay, then. I’ll grab a table and see you in a few minutes.” She let the door close behind her and Charlotte turned back to the mannequin, determined to finish the job—and calm down—before heading out to dinner.

There was no way Roman was back in town, she told herself. No way at all.

C
ARLY
P
HILLIPS

An AOL Time Warner Company

O
fficer Rick Chandler brought his patrol car to a stop in front of a quiet house on Fulton Street and exited with caution. Yorkshire Falls was a small upstate New York town, population approximately 1,725. The crime rate was low in comparison to the big cities and folks possessed vivid imaginations. Case in point, the last major crime spree had centered around a panty thief with Rick’s younger brother Roman as the town’s most popular, if absurd, suspect.

Lisa Burton, the woman who’d placed the 911 call this afternoon, was a middle school teacher not prone to exaggeration or fright and though Rick didn’t anticipate trouble now, he took nothing for granted. A preliminary check of the grounds told him everything was secure so he approached the front yard and strode up the bluestone steps. The door was shut tight and he knocked loudly. The shades on the side window ruffled as wary eyes peered out.

“Police.” He announced his presence. The sound of
unlatching locks followed until the door opened a crack. “It’s Officer Chandler,” he said, keeping his hand on his gun as an instinctive precautionary measure.

“Thank God.” He recognized the home owner’s voice. “I thought you’d never get here.”

Lisa’s breathless, husky tone didn’t come as a shock. For all her schoolteacher conservativism, Lisa, he’d learned, had the hots for him. She’d made sexual overtures before and though Rick didn’t want to think she’d call the police unnecessarily, her seductive voice had him clenching his jaw. “You reported a disturbance?” he asked.

The door swung open wide. He stepped inside—with caution at first—because she still hadn’t come out from behind the protection of the solid oak door.