To Seduce a Rogue (16 page)

The real you
.

Why did her words surprise him? He had known there was something between them. They practically burst into flames when they were together. Before tonight, though, he was not sure
she
knew it.

Her honesty scared him to death.

Women of his acquaintance did not open their mouths beneath his until they knew they were getting something substantial, something more than a heated kiss, in return. Women of his acquaintance did not melt into him, in a perfect, singular fit, until he had showered them with gifts and false praise. Women of his acquaintance did not lift shining eyes to his, presenting their desire as plainly as a teacup on a silver platter. And, women of his acquaintance never,
ever
, admitted to wanting him in the way Charlotte Whitney just had. Wanting more than physical release, more than monetary benefit, more than social gain, more than a shallow joining of...nothing.

She wanted
Jared
Chase.

Well, she asked for too much. With a muttered curse, he headed back to the dance. He would find sweet Lila and cart her home. Without a goodnight kiss, thank you.

He’d his fill of kissing for one day.

Remorse

Deep and painful regret for wrongdoing; compunction.

The slam of the office door propelled Adam from his reverie. He twisted in his chair to find Gerald bearing down upon him like a locomotive, his hair leaving his head like smoke tossed into a brisk breeze. His eyes were bloodshot, his gait precarious. He passed Adam with nary a word, heading for the water pitcher Charlie kept in the office.

Adam grunted. He didn’t want to think about Charlie.

“What are you grumbling about? I’m the one dying.”

Going against his sullen mood, Adam smiled. “What’s that, old man?”

Gerald poured a glass of water and lifted it to his lips. He hit the mark on the third try. “A bit too much drink last night.”

“I can see that.”

“How the hell are you feeling?”

Adam’s gaze dropped. “Fine.”

“Fine?”

“I’m suffering no ill effects from alcohol, if that’s what you’re asking.”

Gerald tiptoed to his chair and slid into it as if he were made of glass. “Don’t raise your voice.” With a groan, he dropped his head to his hands.

“Please. Go home. You don’t look to be much help today. And, you smell terrible.”

With the help of his hands, Gerald shook his head. “No. I’ve never left the press in need, and I never will.” He rose on swaying legs. “Even if I am dying.”

Adam tapped his pen against the desk. “Go. We won’t be going to press until tomorrow at the earliest. I have to finish an editorial, and Charlie still owes me her bank piece.” Seeing Gerald’s stubborn look, he insisted. “Home.”

Gerald’s gaze strayed invitingly toward the door. “You’re sure?”

“I wouldn’t say it if I weren’t sure. If the paper needed you, I would drag you here if I had to.”

“Yes, you would wouldn’t you?” Gerald clapped his hands, then grimaced. “I feel like a dozen horses have trampled on my head.”

“Too much whiskey?”

“Hell, no, man. I’m German! Too much ale.”

Adam grinned and raised an apologetic hand. “Sorry.”

“No offense taken. And, I think I’ll take you up on your offer of a day’s rest.” He crept to the door, looking as if he were trying not to move his head.

“Tomorrow, bright and early.”

“Yes, bright and early.” The door closed on his softly uttered words.

Adam forced himself back to his work, seizing his discarded editorial and settling more comfortably in his chair. “Now, where was I?”

Six young ladies who will enter the world better prepared to meet its challenges. The graduation

“Oh, yes. How could I have forgotten such a fascinating story?” He dipped his pen and started again.

The graduation was a lovely affair

Another door slam. Adam lurched, sending the inkwell to the floor and showering the leg of his trousers. He sighed and turned to the door.

Charlie stood there, her mortified gaze jumping from the ink spreading in a slow circle on the floor, to his ruined trousers. She rushed to him, grabbing a cloth from the rack of type as she passed it. “Heavens, what a mess.”

Adam drew a sharp breath as she dabbed at the stain on his leg. The heat from her touch shot from his groin to the tips of his toes. “Whoa.
Stop
.” He took her by the shoulders.

Against his will, his gaze melted over her like hot wax. It was amazing how someone so oblivious to the art of feminine enhancement could look so damn good. It was clear she didn’t try. From her slipshod braid to her threadbare day dress, she was magnificent. Even the black boots—as ugly as any he had ever seen—well suited her.

He sighed and looked away, pulling a hand through his hair. “An old pair of trousers,” he said with a flip of his hand. The detail he omitted was the ink that was fast adhering fabric to the hair on his legs. She probably would not care to know that. He sighed again and bent to gather pieces of splintered inkwell.

“Do you want this? No sense getting ink all over your hands.” She waved the rag before his face.

He took the cloth without looking up. “Thanks.”

“Well, um, I just came in to tell you that I’ll have the bank story done this afternoon. In fact, I’m heading to the Four Leaf now. I thought today would be quiet with the town nearly deserted and—”

“You should write here.”

“Pardon me?”

“Charlie, the Four Leaf is no place for a woman. You can write here.” Glancing up, his gaze collided with hers.

“Where I write is none of your business.”

He tossed the cloth to the floor. “Fine.”

“I should have listened to my intuition and avoided this office today.”

He followed her to her desk. “Why
did
you come, then?”

Her hands stilled. Her head lifted. “I came in here to get the revision notes for my story, as if it’s any of your concern. And, for your information, I’ve been writing in the Four Leaf for years.”

“Fool idea, if you ask me.”

“As far as I can tell, no one is.”

He gripped the desk’s edge. Their gazes clashed across a paper battlefield. With a will of its own, his hand inched toward hers. With a silent curse, he resumed his place at his desk, grabbed his pen and began to write as if she never walked into the office.

The graduation was a lovely affair, attesting to the wonderful care and attention Mrs. Mindlebright

He wrinkled his nose. What was that smell?

Charlie paused in her search. “I was picking Jessamine this morning. I guess that’s it.”

Damn
. He had spoken aloud.

She cast a cat-like glance his way. “By the way, how did Lila like them?”

He tightened his grip on his pen. “Lila? Like what?”

“The Jessamine.”

“Hmmm?” The pen stilled. A pause. “I didn’t give them to her.”

“Why?”

“I chose not to. Can we leave it at that?” His gaze never left the desk.

“Of course, Chase.”

He restrained a rush of anger. “So, last night didn’t progress us to Adam?”

She forced her lips together before she said something she would regret. She searched for a way to escape, focusing her gaze just above his head. Better to ignore his discerning, chestnut eyes. Better to ignore his thick, curling-at-the-collar mane of dark hair. Better to ignore the flex of his long, able fingers. Better to ignore thoughts about how splendid he looked, sitting there regarding her so calmly, intelligence and an inexplicable resplendence shimmering off him like rays off a plane of water.

Rather than be a coward, she should speak her mind. However, it was terribly disconcerting when one
look
made her forget her anger.

And an entire,
prepared
speech.

She cleared her throat. “Regarding the incident...” How could she bungle this when she’d practiced the entire walk to town? She tried again. “Regarding that, um, well. I think we should just forget it happened. There was drink involved, and I think we should just forget it happened.” There. Simple. Clear. Concise. Definitive.

Feeling bolder, she met his gaze.

With a raised brow, he lifted his finger to his lips and tapped them, studying her in his cool, careful way. After a moment, he asked, “Did you have anything to drink?”

She simply stared, quite the rat in the trap.

“Did you?” Again, he tapped his lips.

“Not much.”

“What was that?” He inclined his head toward her.

She repeated the words as a slow burn worked its way through her. One part anger, one part embarrassment.

“That’s not my excuse either, believe me.”

She chewed on her lip with concentrated effort and resumed her search, papers spilling from her fingers. With a quick glance to the side, she saw his boots perched on her father’s desk, his hands laced across his flat middle. 

“You need to shave,” she said to keep the conversation flowing until she could find her notes and leave. 

He smiled, hand rising to his face. “Do you not like it, Charlotte, dear?”

“No.” A sheet dropped to the floor. She squatted to pick it up. “You look like a vagrant.”

“Miss First-Class-Show-Of-Propriety speaks.”

She crossed her arms over her chest and swallowed her hurt, hoping the pain didn’t show. “I’m going to stay with the
Sentinel
, come hell or high water, you or Oliver Stokes.”

She was glad to see his eyes widen as she leaned forward, forcing him to tilt his head to meet her gaze. “You’re just like everybody else in this town, Chase. We’ll forget this happened, forget it all happened. Forget we were ever friends.”

Resolution

A formal expression of opinion or intention made; a resolve or determination.