The Bachelor (15 page)

“That’s the point.” He threaded his hands through her hair. “Let me stay tonight, Charlotte. Let me take care of you.”

She’d expected this attempt to play bodyguard. “Your staying is not a good idea.” Much as she would have enjoyed it. She braced
both her hands against his shoulders, but instead of pushing him away, she savored the heat and strength of his body against
hers.

“Then why does it feel like one?” His hips jerked forward, thrusting his hard length against her feminine mound.

Waves of sensation rose to life. Her lashes fell and she savored the feeling. “It feels good because there’s nothing rational
about sex. But I’m being rational now. You can’t stay because you came over here to say good-bye. You said as much earlier.”
She recalled his words, the pain lodging in her throat.

“And then I kissed you and I realized there’s no way in hell I can walk away.”

“What?” Excitement and hope unlike any she’d known sizzled to life inside as she contemplated his words. “What are you saying?”
she asked, because she had to be sure.

“There’s always been something between us. Something that won’t go away. If you’ve got the guts to take the risk and see where
it leads, then so do I.” His blue eyes stared into hers.

Her pulse began an unsteady beat. He’d taken her by surprise. Apparently he’d shocked himself too. She understood the push
and pull between them as well as he did.

But despite the fact that he’d taken her off guard, she’d already thought this possibility through. An affair with Roman wasn’t
only what she wanted, but what she needed as well. Because by giving in to the desire that had been brewing for years, she’d
give it a chance to run its course.

Without a doubt, Charlotte knew she’d be risking her heart. She’d walked away from him once before, and though she never admitted
it, even to herself, she’d regretted it deep inside. She needed to experience making love with him. Needed the memories to
cherish for a lifetime without him.

But she’d have closure. Unlike her mother, who subjected herself to an endless stretch of waiting ahead of her, Charlotte
would be strong and come out whole.

“So can I stay?” he asked with that charming grin on his face.

“Because you think I need protection from a nonexistent threat or because you want to be with me?”

“Both reasons work for me.”

“I can take care of myself. Even Rick said I’m safe. As for the other … it’s too soon.” Charlotte wasn’t about to leap into
bed with him no matter how hard her body protested against her decision.

She wanted time to assimilate his intentions. To know this time he wouldn’t change his mind again. But most of all, she wanted
to get to know him better. All of him. She needed time to get inside both his head and his heart. Because when he walked away,
as she knew he would, she had no intention of being hard to forget. Heaven knew, she wouldn’t forget him, even if she would
be moving on.

Roman nodded, accepting her answer. He didn’t want to push, not when he’d made headway and broken past her wary barriers.
She was laughing at his jokes, accepting his change of heart. It was enough for now.

After all his mixed messages, he didn’t expect her to open up and trust him overnight. “How about I sleep on the floor and
play bodyguard?” he asked in a last-ditch effort to spend more time with her.

She shook her head and laughed. “Neither of us would get any sleep.”

“Sleep’s overrated. We could stay up talking.” At least he’d be by her side.

“We wouldn’t talk, and you know it.” Her cheeks flushed a healthy shade of pink. “But the neighbors would.”

Personally Roman didn’t give a damn what the neighbors said, but Charlotte did, and in a small town, business was tied to
reputation. He ran a frustrated hand through his hair, then he forced himself to accept what she was saying.

“You’ll call if you need me? If you even think you need me?”

She met his gaze. “Oh, I need you, Roman. I just won’t be calling for
that
kind of need.”

He exhaled hard. He needed her too. In a way that reached past sexual desire. Like she’d wrapped a hand around his heart.
He just hoped like hell she planned to release him when it was time to move on.

Roman rose to a blanket of sunshine covering his childhood room and bathing his body in heat. He’d left Charlotte’s apartment,
but she’d remained with him all night long, in dreams that were hot and compelling, yet strangely unfulfilled.

He shut his eyes and leaned back into his pillows, conjuring everything he’d learned last night. While she and his brothers
had discussed the latest break-ins, Roman had used his talents for listening to one thing while taking in something else—and
he’d discovered the glossy oversized books and magazines laid out on the table in front of him. The covers detailed distant
places and glamorous locales. Some were domestic, others foreign, like castles in Scotland, or exotic, like the South Pacific.
Nothing unusual for conversation pieces, Roman thought.

Many people bought similar oversized books for decorative appeal. But few people read them until they were well worn and even
fewer left those dog-eared copies out for show. Charlotte had.

So as he’d glanced around, he’d been able to put a picture together in his mind, one of contradictions and enticements. Charlotte
was feminine and sexy. Predictably, she liked flowers. Yet she was hesitant, uncertain of her appeal, and any bold moves didn’t
come easily—which made her choice of business rather unpredictable, he thought. As were the undergarments she handmade. They
exposed more than they hid—baring not just the skin beneath the crocheted panties, but Charlotte and her inner self.

The books revealed much more. Although she liked hearth and home in Yorkshire Falls, there was a part of her that was intrigued
by foreign locales and exotic places. The notion brought a rush of adrenaline through his veins. She was more perfect for
him than she was ready to admit.

Charlotte, he thought. She enthralled him in a way no story, no woman, ever had. He needed to win her over, to convince her
that they were so intricately entwined, they had no choice but to make a life together work. Only then could he fulfill his
obligation to his family and satisfy his mother’s desire for a grandchild. Only then could he return to life on the road,
go where the stories took him, and continue to bring public awareness to important issues. And maybe one day, she’d want to
travel with him.

“Oh, my God. Roman, wake up.” His mother’s voice traveled toward him.

There was something to be said for living alone, and when his mother barged into his room without knocking, he remembered
what it was. Privacy.

He sat up in bed and yanked the covers over himself. “Morning, Mom.”

Her eyes glittered with knowledge and a touch of amusement that absolutely alarmed him. “Read this.” She shoved the
Gazette
into his personal space, waving it in front of his face.

He grabbed the paper. “‘
PILFERED PANTIES
,’” he read aloud.

“Nice alliteration,” she said. “Chase always did well in English.”

He glanced up at his mother and saw laugh lines creasing her cheeks. “Aren’t you concerned about the thefts?” he asked her.

“Rick’s got things under control. So does Chief Ellis. Besides, no one’s been hurt. Read the last line, Roman.”

Before he could comply, she whisked the paper out of his hands and read to him. “As of yet the police have no suspects, but
Jack Whitehall chased a male, Caucasian, into his backyard before he disappeared into the woods behind the house. Although
the police have yet to name a suspect, Jack Whitehall fingered Roman Chandler’s return as coinciding with the first theft
one week ago. According to Mr. Whitehall, Roman Chandler was behind a childhood prank involving stolen underwear. No charges
were filed in the incident, which took place over a decade ago, and the police believe the incidents to be unrelated.”

“Nice piece of reporting,” he muttered.

“What do you have to say for yourself?”

He rolled his eyes. “Jesus, Mom, I was in high school.” What did she expect him to say?

But as for his brother, Roman was pissed. Even if the quote was attributed to Whitehall and denied by the cops, Roman couldn’t
believe Chase would report such bullshit. “You’d think Chase would have more sense than to—”

“Chase reports the facts, young man. Don’t go blaming your brother for things coming back to haunt you.”

Roman hadn’t heard his mother take that no-nonsense tone with one of her sons in years. Given the soft-spoken voice she’d
developed since her illness, her tone surprised him now. But she’d never put up with one brother being angry at another, and
that wouldn’t change just because she wasn’t feeling well. She believed her boys should be a unit. Stick together no matter
what.

Most times Roman agreed. Now wasn’t one of them. But he didn’t like her pacing or worrying because he was annoyed with Chase.
“Sit down. Getting upset isn’t good for your heart.” He patted the bed.

She looked startled, then lowered herself slowly to the foot of the bed. “You’re right. I just thought you ought to be prepared.
You’ve been fingered as a panty pirate.”

Roman could do nothing in return but scowl and fold his arms across his chest.

“The one thing I can’t figure is what the women’s reaction will be.”

He braced himself. “What do you mean?”

His mother shrugged. “I’m not sure if they’re going to throw themselves at you or run the other way. For your sake, you’d
better hope it’s a turn-on.
I
hope it’s a turn-on, or those grandchildren I want are an even longer ways off.”

Roman muttered a curse. “How about you pick on Rick or Chase?”

Raina tapped her foot against the hardwood floor, narrowly missing the braided rug she’d bought him years ago. “Unfortunately,
your brothers aren’t here right now.” She picked up the article and seemed to skim it once more. “You know, the more I think
about it, the women in this town will probably steer clear until the charges are dropped. No one wants to be involved with
a convicted felon. Even a potentially convicted felon isn’t someone a nice girl would bring home to Mom and Dad.”

“Jesus, Mom,” he said again.

“Didn’t I tell you these things come back to haunt you? It’s just like SAT scores or your grades in ninth grade. They affect
the college you got into. But would you listen? No. You knew best.” Without warning, she whacked him on the shoulder with
the paper, “Didn’t I tell you this would resurface one day?”

Sensing she was just getting started, Roman groaned and pulled the covers back over his head. He was too old to be living
with his mother and too tired to deal with this now.

T
he line started forming outside Charlotte’s Attic at nine forty-five
A.M
. Charlotte glanced at Beth, who wasn’t discussing anything with her except business. Apparently she was talked out from the
night before and Charlotte respected her privacy—for now. She fully intended to corner her friend by the end of the day and
find out exactly what was going on.

“Did you advertise a sale and forget to tell me?” Beth gestured to the throng of waiting women outside.

“I wish.” Charlotte knitted her brows in confusion.

She walked to the front and unlocked the door. The women poured in as if she were giving merchandise away, and surrounded
her until Frieda Whitehall stepped forward, obviously the spokesperson. The older woman had graying hair, cut and set in the
only style Lu Anne knew. Frieda typically dressed in polyester pants with matching, hand-washable silk blouses, and today
was no different. But Charlotte knew Frieda wanted to put the sizzle back into her marriage, and so she had purchased Charlotte’s
hand-knit bra and panty set.

“What can I do for you ladies?”

“We’re interested in the …” Frieda cleared her throat and blushed.

“The pilfered panties,” Marge Sinclair called out from the back of the crowd. “My Donna could use a pair too.”

“And I need to replace mine,” Frieda said. “I’d also like a pair for Terrie. Maybe they’ll loosen her up a bit.”

“Pilfered panties?” Charlotte blinked in surprise. “You mean the crocheted ones.” Obviously the robbery had become common
knowledge. News traveled fast in this town and only Rick and the police chief’s pleadings had kept the situation quiet after
the initial break-ins.

“We’d all like a pair.”

“
All
of you?”

The murmur of assent rose, while the storefront had become a revolving door of women. Some of them were older, some younger,
all of them interested in Charlotte’s “pilfered panties.”

“We don’t keep them in stock, you understand.” Beth had taken over. “These are individually made. I’ll take your names, color
preference, and measure you for size. Line up and we’ll get started.”

“What in the world is going on?” Charlotte asked. Just last night she’d been worried about losing business, and now there
was this deluge of customers for the very style of panties that encouraged robbery. At this rate, she’d be busy crocheting
through Christmas, nine months away.

“Have you seen the morning paper?” Lisa Burton, an old classmate of Charlotte’s and now a respected schoolteacher, asked.

Charlotte shook her head. She’d overslept, thanks to a restless night with fevered dreams starring herself and Roman. “No
time for paper or coffee. Why?”

Lisa’s eyes glittered with excitement as she handed over a copy of the
Gazette.
“If there was one man in this town you’d
want
to break into your home and steal your panties, who would it be?”

“Well …”

Before Charlotte could respond further, Lisa answered her own question. “A Chandler man, of course.”

Charlotte blinked. “Of course.” Roman was the only Chandler who interested her, not that she’d share that truth aloud.

And she didn’t need him stealing her panties, she’d willingly hand them over—so would half the women in this town, she realized.
She recalled his brothers’ accounting of last night’s theft and the accusations surrounding Roman. Chase had said he was going
to press.