To Seduce a Rogue (7 page)

Charlie paused at the newspaper office. A lilting Irish tune drifted from the open door. At the back, Gerald crouched over the new press. She took a deep breath of ink-stained air. Returning was the right decision. Stokes was not a good man, but
she
was a capable, accomplished woman. She would fight for her principles as she fought for the good of the
Sentinel
.

Too, Adam Chase could teach her a lot about the business, if she could keep from killing him.

“Gerald.”

Gerald stepped from behind the press. For such a bear of a man, he moved quickly, and was by her side before she could speak, capturing her in a hug that lifted her off her feet.

“Put me down,” she said, laughter bubbling through. “Put me down this instant.”

“Your fierce words don’t scare me, sweeting. It’s good to see you. It’s been lonely.”

She drifted to the press and ran her hand along a metal edge. “You know, it’s funny. I never expected to be forced to make decisions that are right
and
wrong. I think I’m doing the best thing and...this place” —she turned to face him, her eyes tearing— “means so much to me. I can’t seem to stay away.”

He took her hands in his, and she realized how very dear this man was to her. “That’s part of growing up. Facing difficulties and making the best of them. Looking at both sides and choosing. Everything isn’t going to be fair. Lots of areas will be all jumbled and so confusing it’ll make your head spin.” His gaze shifted to their linked hands, his voice a whisper in the quiet room. “Your pa would be proud of you.”

She saw the love and pride in his eyes. “Papa not being here is hard.” She swallowed, struggling to say the words. “Thank goodness you are.”

“Now, who’d be here to calm down that awful temper of yours and keep you from fighting with our new editor?”

Her smile slipped. She turned from his candid gaze. “Is he a good editor? I’ve spoken with him and as much as it pains me to say it, he seems to know the business.” She frowned. “He even seems to
like
it.”

Gerald began fiddling with one of the press cylinders. “Well, I’ve only worked with him a week or so but...” He paused and searched the floor before continuing, “He’s very impatient, a bit intense, but you should read his editorials. I reckon he stops to write every ten minutes. He says words just pop into his mind. Doesn’t want to forget them.”

“You’re sounding like you admire him!”

“And you, sweeting, are going to have to be open-minded. Not everyone writes, or thinks, the same way.”

The man Gerald described did not sound like the man
she’d
met. Were his light smiles and teasing gestures deliberately misleading? Because, on her porch the night before, he had let her see another side.

Darker...tormented.

She snatched a rag from the page frame and began to rub imaginary dust from the press. She wrinkled her nose and released a sharp breath. Her heartbeat accelerated. With a slow hand, she lifted the rag to her nostrils.

The scent did not wait for an invitation.

A unique aroma: smoke, sweat and something that just last week would have been unfamiliar. She turned the bandanna—how had she thought it a rag?—in her hand. It was the one Adam Chase had used to wipe his brow the day before.

She’d known his scent. Her heart had known even before her mind.

Charlie gripped the edge of the press, the rag dropping to the floor. Maybe...maybe the man is transferring some of his restlessness to me. I don’t know what it is, but
I...don’t...like...it
.

“Charlie?”

She whipped around, her teeth coming down hard on her bottom lip. She grimaced and brought her hand to her mouth. “What? What were you saying?”

“She’s a beauty, isn’t she?” Gerald lifted a brow. “The press,” he clarified when none was forthcoming.

She summoned a weak smile and moved to the desks sitting in the corner. They were much as she had left them, except her father’s looked like it had tangled with a Tomcat in knee-deep water.

She settled into her father’s chair. The hair on the back of her neck prickled as an image of Adam Chase, words spouting from his mind like steam from a geyser, faster than his hand could record them, swept through her mind.

Charlie lifted his pencil and twirled it between her fingers. The tip was dull, unlike hers, which was always sharp. Papers were scattered all across the desk, ink-stained and crumpled. How could he work in the middle of this mess?

You’re going to have to be open-minded
.

She grabbed the first editorial she could reach.
Should We Use Taxation to Establish the Public Education System
? Hmmm...currently a very controversial issue. She scanned the page. She sighed. Concise and well-written.

Her gaze fell to his signature: A Jared Chase. “Why A. Jared Chase?” she whispered.

“Those were my father’s wishes, Miss Whitney.”

Desire

To wish or long for; crave; want.

Charlie jumped from the chair. Adam flashed a devil-may-care smile, his indifference evident in the way he perched against the desk. She flushed. His writing had engrossed her so that she had not even heard the office door open. The loose pane always rattled.

Without warning, he leaned forward. She scooted back.

He reached into the back pocket of his trousers. A handkerchief. Waving it like a cease-fire flag, he gently dabbed her lip.

Her lids fluttered as she ran her tongue along the small cut. Her gaze settled on his. He was scrutinizing her with a peculiar, contemplative expression, and she felt the breath rush from her lungs.

 She watched as he forced his hand by his side, the handkerchief helplessly crushed in his fist. He blinked, and the dark eyes that had engaged her in a heated struggle only moments before narrowed and released her with such abruptness that she flinched. His lips closed and tightened, and a muscle in his jaw began to jump. He shoved clenched fists in his pockets as he pushed off the desk.

Bewildered, Charlie could only wonder what the hell had just happened to them.

* * *

Adam did not suffer a similar quandary. Dammit, he knew.

He also knew how to stop it.

The only element throwing him off was the depth of his attraction for her. Stronger than any he remembered having experienced, without provocation, in his life.

Editing himself, he decided that attraction was not the right word. He actually felt a sort of
oneness
when he looked into Charlie Whitney’s eyes. God, she was a provincial little thing, her emotions carved in her forehead. He had never been able to read Marilyn like that.

And had never cared to.

He gave her a long, hard look. Did Tom Walker know how to handle such a spirited woman? Did he kiss her?
Really
kiss her, with his lips, his hands, his passion? Did he make her writhe and moan as he tasted her, as she begged for more?

More
.

She would demand more—the key to a man’s soul. He could see it in the questioning tilt of her chin, the cunning turn of her lips.

Adam didn’t want her to try to understand him.

Her gaze never left his. Not once. Adam swallowed. Did she know what she was doing to him with those wide, pure eyes? Loneliness and suspicion crept up on him.

Well, she could look all she wanted. She would never discover anything; he would make sure of it. “Why did you come here?” He frowned. Had that sounded harsher than he intended?

Charlie took a step back, her eyes glowing. “You know why I’m here and right on schedule.” Her hands shook as she closed them into fists. “I came back to work for the
Sentinel
. I want to make sure it isn’t destroyed.”

“Well, thanks one helluva lot for your exalted vote of confidence.”

She lowered her voice. “That’s not what I
meant
.”

“I know what you meant.” Adam dropped his head as a rich, all-too-comforting fragrance permeated the air, slashing like a blade as no words could have. Damn, she smelled good. Not a cosmopolitan fragrance like Marilyn’s, but an arousing, earthly...
essence
. An honest sum and substance, like fresh sunshine.

“I thought the
Sentinel
was a good paper,” she whispered.

With a sigh, he pushed away, rubbing his forehead. “Charlie, Edgemont is a good market for a small press. There’s no other established newspaper. But face the facts. The
Sentinel’
s revenue is suffering because it’s not politically aligned. We need capital. Capital political backing will provide.”

She tapped her fingers on the desk. “Where do we start?”

Had he missed something?

“I’m assuming you would like a list of issues we’ve covered...to save the time of having to go through all the old copies?” She grabbed a stack of papers from the desk and began sorting and shuffling. “I’ll need a day or two to summarize the last two years. Most of those I still remember.” She frowned as she came to a page with a large ink stain. “We’ll meet on, say, Tuesday morning?” She crumpled the page in a ball and tossed it at him.

He caught it with one hand. By damn, she was no empty-headed female. The thought was not comforting. “Um...yes. I don’t know what I would have done without you.”

She rolled her eyes. “You would have been reading a lot of decaying newspapers, that’s what.”

The door closed behind them with a click. They turned at the same time.

“Mr. Chase? Hello?”

Adam released a breath. Lila Dane. He glanced at Charlie, almost laughing as he saw her grimace before she could hide it.

Lila’s eyes sharpened as he crossed to her. She offered her hand.

“Hello again, Miss Dane,” he said, but ignored her hand.

“Please. Call me Lila.” Her eyes narrowed as she casually tucked her arm by her side. “Charlotte.” The name slipped past her lips like a lead ball.

Charlie glanced from the papers in her hand. “Hello, Lila. How are you?”

“Why, Charlotte, you’re looking...lovely.”

“Thank you, Lila. I don’t try as hard as you do, but I do so hope for positive results.”

Adam coughed and began a thorough search of the wood-plank floor.

“Charlotte Whitney, you’re never going to learn. And to think, I just wanted to welcome you to the Fourth of July picnic. It’s about time you took a break from your oh-so-busy schedule. I just saw Tom at the bank. He’s very excited that you’ve
finally
agreed to accompany him.”

“I’m terribly excited about it.”

“Your sarcasm is amusing, as always.” Lila waved her dainty, gloved hand in dismissal. “Actually, I came to speak to
Adam
. I was wondering—since you are new to Edgemont—if you would like to accompany my family to the Fourth of July picnic. My father suggested you go with us. I thought it a wonderful idea.”

He didn’t want to go to some damn town event, but...Charlie hated them, and she was going. With Tom Walker. “Why, Lila, I would love to attend the picnic with your family. I thank you for the gracious invitation. Since your father and I are both businessman, we should have a lot to talk about.”