The Bachelor (8 page)

“Roman, can you fill her in? She needs to be aware of what’s going on.” Rick shattered her hopes.

Roman nodded. “My pleasure,” he said in that sexy voice.

She shivered with awareness. Blast the man for his effect on her, she thought, but by the time Rick took off, leaving Roman
and Charlotte alone in the back of her store, she hoped she’d schooled her face into a polite mask of friendliness. With Beth
off this morning and the lull in customers, there was no one to interrupt them, so she’d be safer if she pushed the attraction
to the back burner. “If such a thing were possible,” she muttered.

“Is what possible?” Roman asked.

She shook her head, then swallowed hard. “Not a thing. Is this about the panty thief?”

Roman nodded. “It’s about your merchandise.” He leaned against the wall beside her.

“Which items?” Rick hadn’t given her specifics on his last visit.

Roman coughed once and flushed before answering. “Ladies’ panties.”

Charlotte grinned. “Well, I’ll be darned, there is a subject that can make a Chandler man blush.” His embarrassment let her
see a more vulnerable side to Roman than his normal, confident demeanor. She was grateful for the privilege, and a traitorous
part of her heart opened to him.

“I’m serious,” he said, unaware of the effect his embarrassment had on her.

She had to keep it that way.

“This guy’s apparently got a fetish of some sort.”

A fetish for panties. She shook her head wryly, then Roman’s words sank in. “You said this
guy’s
got a fetish. Why assume it’s a man? Do the police think it’s a man?”

“You’ll have to talk to Rick about that.”

She nodded, giving the matter more thought. “You do realize only a woman could wear the stolen property—without anyone noticing.
Unless, of course, he’s a poorly endowed man.” She met his amused gaze and caught him laughing.

“Behave yourself, Charlotte.”

His grin filled her with warmth and curled her toes. Clichéd as the expression was, it was true. “So what brand of panties?
I sell dozens.”

“Again, Rick’s got the details, but he mentioned the crocheted ones in the window. He said they’re handmade?”

By her. Her garments were exclusive, fashionable, personal, and not meant to become an object of obsession or ridicule for
a perverted man. She had her reasons for pursuing the hobby that had become a staple in her business. But Charlotte couldn’t
imagine divulging personal secrets with Roman when distance seemed the safest route. Not when the details connected to those
garments would lead to an emotional minefield.

Crocheting provided a window to her soul and discussion would reveal her deepest pain and disappointment. Because along with
knitting, Charlotte had learned to crochet from her mother. They were skills Annie had developed as a means of escape, after
Charlotte’s fame-seeking father had abandoned them when Charlotte was nine. Hollywood was waiting, he’d said one morning,
and walked out, only to return at disparate intervals. His revolving-door habit had become a pattern in her life. It was a
pattern Charlotte had always feared falling into with Roman, so strong was the magnetic pull he exerted over her.

He cleared his throat and Charlotte blinked. “I know the brand,” she said at last. “What can I do to help the police?”

“For now Rick just wants you more informed. I’m sure he’ll be in touch with what he needs.”

She nodded. As silence reigned, she sought a neutral topic. “How’s your mother?”

His features softened. “Hanging in. She’s allowed one activity outside the house a day, then she comes home to rest and keep
off her feet. I feel better having seen her myself. Chase’s phone call scared me to death.”

Her heart reached out to him, the desire to help him past his fear and pain strong and overwhelming. But she couldn’t afford
to connect with him any deeper than she already had. “When did you get into town?” she asked.

“Early Saturday morning.”

And Raina had been rushed to Emergency late Friday night. Charlotte admired Roman’s fierce protective streak, one shared by
all the brothers when it came to their beloved mother. Though a part of her longed for him to turn that caring her way, she
knew even if he did, it couldn’t last.

He exhaled, then strode toward her. Powerful and sure, he came up beside her. Her heart beat more rapidly in her chest, her
pulse picking up rhythm. His body heat encompassed her, along with a rush of warmth and emotion that surpassed mere desire.
The man had hidden depths and an innate goodness that came with his family name. He could give her everything she desired
except forever, she thought sadly.

He reached out and tipped up her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze. “Be careful. Let’s face it, Rick can’t say for certain
whether this is a freak incident or if a fruitcake’s at large.”

A chill raced through her. “I’ll be fine.”

“I’ll make sure you are.” His husky voice was filled with the caring she’d desired and a lump rose to fill her throat.

“One last thing,” he said. “Rick wants to keep all this quiet. The cops don’t need a panicked town or rumors of a panty thief
spreading like wildfire.”

“As if you can control gossip around here.” She pursed her lips. “But word won’t come from me.”

She escorted him to the door, torn by the desire to have him stay and the logical need to see him gone. He held her gaze one
last time, then let the door shut behind him. Charlotte’s palms were damp, her pulse was racing—and the panty thief wasn’t
the reason.

Heading back to the lavender panties she’d left on the counter, Charlotte recounted reality in her mind. There couldn’t be
two more different people on the face of the planet than she and Roman. He thrived on transience and challenge, she needed
permanence and the comfort of routine. Even her brief stint in New York, as exciting as it had been, had been necessitated
by fashion school and apprenticeship. She’d returned to Yorkshire Falls as soon as possible. Roman made it his life’s goal
to stay away.

She’d broken up with him once because his excitement at leaving Yorkshire Falls behind had convinced her he’d provide her
nothing but pain. Nothing he’d done in his life since had convinced her he’d changed. She gripped the panties, wishing with
all her heart things between them could be different but accepting reality as only someone who lived it could.

Then and now, her sole consolation lay in the fact that she had no choice. She’d done the right thing. She didn’t want to
repeat her mother’s life, living in limbo until a man returned and deigned to give her attention on his terms, only to disappear
again.

She couldn’t afford to admit to the sexual feelings Roman inspired inside her or acknowledge the truth hidden deep in her
heart—that both his daring persona and impermanent lifestyle enticed her. And so she’d ruthlessly squelched the part of her
that desired Roman Chandler, and the seeds of discontent that lurked in her soul.

Even now.

A
spring breeze floated through the early morning air, bringing unaccustomed warmth to Yorkshire Falls and filling Raina’s
lungs with incredibly sweet, fresh air. As fresh as her sons in their teenage years, she thought wryly.

She left Norman’s, walked across First and onto the grassy mound in the center of town with a gazebo in the corner. She was
meeting Eric here during his lunch hour, before he had to return to the office to see his afternoon appointments. Although
he’d done the inviting, she’d chosen the place and picked up lunch. Who could resist a picnic in the outdoors? She had the
most delicious grilled chicken sandwiches for them.

She paused in the center of the median, surprised to see Charlotte Bronson and Samson Humphrey, the duck man, as the children
in town called him, standing together. Samson lived on the outskirts of town, in a run-down house that had been passed down
from generation to generation in his family. Raina had no idea how he got by or what he did with his time other than sit in
the park and feed the ducks, but he was a staple fixture in town.

She walked up beside them. “Hello, Charlotte. Samson.” She smiled at them both.

“Hi, Raina.” Charlotte inclined her head. “Nice to see you.”

“You too.” When Samson remained silent, Raina prodded again. “Nice weather we’re having. Perfect for you to feed the ducks.”

“Already told you it’s Sam,” he grumbled, barely loud enough to be heard. “Can’t you remember a damn thing?”

“He’s grouchy because he hasn’t had lunch yet. Isn’t that right, Sam?” Charlotte asked.

Raina laughed, knowing full well he was always grouchy. Leave it to Charlotte to try to smooth over even the surliest disposition.

“What would you know about it?” he asked.

Raina knew Charlotte was probably right and she’d packed a separate sandwich for him just in case.

“Well, I know your bark is worse than your bite,” Charlotte said. “Now, here. Take this.” She held out a brown paper bag,
beating Raina to her good deed.

From the time Roman had a crush on Charlotte in high school, Raina had always known the girl had a heart of gold. She remembered
the two had shared one date and her son had been a bear the morning after. More existed between Roman and Charlotte than an
awful date. Raina had known it then. She knew it now. Just as she also knew Charlotte Bronson and her heart of gold were perfect
for her youngest son.

“Go on, Sam, take it,” Charlotte said.

He grabbed the bag and muttered a barely audible “Thanks.” He dug past the foil wrapping, taking a huge first bite. “Would’ve
preferred mustard.”

Both Raina and Charlotte laughed. “Norman refuses to put mustard on grilled chicken, and you’re welcome,” Charlotte said.

Obviously the condiment on the sandwich didn’t matter, Raina thought, because he’d devoured half of it in two bites.

“I’ve got to get back to work.” Charlotte waved to Raina, then Sam, and headed back toward her store.

“Nice girl,” Raina said.

“Ought to have more sense than to bother with me,” he muttered.

She shook her head. “That just shows her good taste. Well, enjoy lunch.” Raina walked past him, to settle on the far edge
of the bench.

She knew better than to join Sam. He’d just walk away, as he’d done in the past. He was an antisocial loner. The younger kids
were afraid of him, the older kids made fun of him, and the rest of town generally ignored him. But Raina had always felt
sorry for Sam and she liked him despite his gruff outer shell. When she bought herself food at Norman’s, she always picked
up something for Samson, too. Obviously Charlotte felt the same way. Something else Raina and the younger woman had in common,
apart from Roman.

“I should have known you’d beat me here,” a familiar male voice said.

“Eric.” Raina rose to greet her friend. Dr. Eric Fallon and Raina had grown up together on the same street in Yorkshire Falls.
They’d been friends as married couples and remained friends now that their spouses had died, Eric’s wife long after Raina
had lost John.

“You’d better not have walked all this way or driven into town well past the speed limit. Indigestion or not, you can’t be
too careful.” Wrinkles of concern furrowed his brows.

Raina didn’t want him worrying about her, but she had another, more pressing issue to take care of first. She’d have to remind
her dear friend of his medical ethics before he accidentally slipped and told one of her sons she’d suffered no more than
glorified heartburn. “Chase dropped me off, and I take it you’ve either been through my file or heard about my hospital trip
through the grapevine?”

“You should have told me yourself when I called this morning.”

“If every friend bothered you with health crises the minute you got back from vacation, you’d go running back to Mexico.”

He sighed, drawing a hand through his salt-and-pepper hair. “You’re not just any friend. When are you going to understand
that?” His dark eyes bore into hers.

She patted his hand. “You’re a good man.”

His tanned, weathered hand covered hers, his touch surprisingly warm and tender.

Shaken, she changed the subject. “I suppose you heard Roman’s back in town?”

Eric nodded. “Now tell me why I also heard your sons are tiptoeing around you like you might shatter at any moment. Why Roman’s
taken a leave of absence from his job. And why when you’re not out about town, you’re home
resting
as per doctor’s orders. Because I know darn well Leslie didn’t say a thing about added rest. Added Maalox, maybe.”

Raina glanced around to see if anyone would save her from a lecture, but no white knight was in sight, not even Samson, who’d
moved behind them and was weeding the flower beds. “Eric, how old are the boys? Old enough to be married,” she said without
waiting for him to answer. “Old enough to have children.”

“So that’s what’s been bothering you. You want grandchildren?”

She nodded, finding it difficult to speak, to acknowledge the truth without giving away the growing emptiness in both her
life and her heart.

“The boys will get married when they’re good and ready, Raina.”

“What’s wrong with upping the time frame? Lord knows Rick needs to see that just because one woman hurt him doesn’t mean all
will. And then there’s Roman—”

“Forgive me, but I’m not understanding,” Eric interrupted her. “How does pretending to be sick relate to your desire to see
the boys settled with families of their own?”

She glanced upward. Heaven help her when dealing with obtuse men—it seemed she was surrounded by them. “My sons would never
deny me my fondest wish, one that will complete their lives too. Not if they thought …” She wrinkled her nose and cringed,
hesitating.

“Your health was at risk?” At her barely perceptible nod, he rose from his seat. “Good God, woman, how could you do that to
your children?”

“I did it
for
my children. Sit down, you’re making a scene.” She jerked on his sleeve and he followed her command.