Raina Chandler had a unique way of curing her sons’ most incorrigible habits. After a summer of rinsing his boxers and hanging them to dry in front of the house, he’d never subject anyone to that same humiliation again.
With any luck, the rest of the town had long forgotten. “I can’t believe a shop like this is making it here,”
he said, changing the subject.
“It is. Young and old, slim and the more . . . robust—they all shop here. The younger ones anyway.
Mom’s on a crusade to get the older women in here too, and she’s one of the most loyal customers.”
“Mom wears these panties?”
The brothers shook their heads at the same time, neither wanting his imagination to travel down that path. “How is Mom?”
“Hard to tell. She sounded winded when I called, like she’d been running, which is impossible. So I’m heading on over to check myself.”
Roman exhaled hard. “I’ve got my cell phone. Call me if you need me.”
Rick nodded. “Will do.” He then walked along the street by the store, turned right at the corner leading to the apartments above, and returned soon after.
“What’s going on?” Roman asked, recognizing a walk-by when he saw one. His brother was patrolling the area and Roman wanted to know why.
Rick shrugged. “Yorkshire Falls had a couple of break-ins over the weekend.”
Roman’s reporter’s instincts kicked in. “What was stolen?”
A smile Roman could only describe as wicked settled on his brother’s mouth. “If I weren’t with you myself at the time of both break-ins, you’d be my only suspect. But I’ve got squat.”
“Panties? ” Roman shifted his gaze from his brother to the assortment in the window, then back again.
“You’re telling me some idiot broke into a house and stole women’s underwear?”
Rick nodded. “I’d have filled you and Chase in over dinner but Norman’s was too crowded to talk privately. It seems the good people of Yorkshire Falls have an actual crime spree on their hands.” Rick filled Roman in on the details of the thefts. It turned out that all of the stolen panties had been purchased at the store they were standing in front of now.
Roman glanced at the window once more. The panties in question were there for the world to see. Who owned this place? The Charlotte he’d known might not have been brazen enough to open this shop, but the one he’d seen dressed in bright colors and who’d laid down that challenge, well, she was another woman entirely.
“Are you going to tell me who owns this place?” he asked Rick.
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A gleam danced in his brother’s eyes and Roman’s instincts went on high alert, confirming what he’d already suspected. When Rick remained silent, a knowing look on his face, Roman did the obvious. He took a step back and glanced up at the awning.
A burgundy overhang with hot pink trim and bold calligraphy stared back at him. CHARLOTTE’SA TTIC—HIDDENTREASURESFOR THEBODY, HEART,AND SOUL.
“Hot damn.” Apparently he’d been too quick to discount the possibility. Charlotte, Roman’s Charlotte, owned this sensual, erotic shop.
Because she was a sensual, erotic woman, as she’d proven to him in Norman’s back hall. He’d proven something to himself as well. He was a man with healthy carnal appetites, and it had been too long since he’d indulged those.
“Don’t you have someplace to be?” Rick asked.
Roman ignored his brother’s laugh, slapped Rick on the back, and headed off to town hall.
Twenty minutes later, Roman was overwhelmed by complete and utter boredom. The things he did for family, he thought and yawned as he waited for the architectural review portion of the evening to end.
Though he could barely concentrate, he jotted notes just the same. He waited, pen hovering over his pad.
“Next up. Petition for variance to put dog door in the front entrance of 311 Sullivan Street, in the Sullivan Subdivision. Neighbors complain said door will destroy uniformity and beauty of subdivision—”
“My beagle Mick’s entitled to have free access to his home.” George Carlton, petitioner, rose to his feet, only to be jerked back down by his wife, Rose.
“Hush up, George. It’s not our turn to speak.”
“Go on,” a man on the board directed.
“We’re getting older and so’s Mick. Having to get up and down each time he needs to relieve himself is wearing on us.” She took her seat and folded her hands into her lap.
People were starving in Ethiopia and being killed in the Middle East, but here in Yorkshire Falls, canine concerns ruled the day. Roman remembered that the itch to leave town had started during his apprenticeship with Chase, and had grown with each meeting he’d attended that had degenerated into petty arguments between neighbors with too much time on their hands.
Back then, Roman’s imagination had traveled a dual path in search of excitement, from foreign locales with more intriguing, fast-paced stories, to Charlotte Bronson, his crush. Now that he’d visited most of the places in his dreams, he had but one focus. His mind returned to Charlotte and the attraction he’d proven was mutual.
He’d intended to corner her, to make her admit to avoiding him tonight and find out why she’d ditched him in high school. He had a hunch, but wanted to hear it from Charlotte. He hadn’t intended to seduce and arouse them both. Not until he’d looked into those eyes and seen the same emotional connection sizzling in the depths.
Nothing had changed. She was glad to see him, no matter how she fought that truth. Then there was the Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
fresh coat of glossy coral color on her full, pouty lips. No red-blooded man could resist. He’d inhaled her scent and nuzzled her soft, fragrant skin. He’d gotten close enough to tease but not satisfy.
Roman groaned, because though her body screamed, Take me —and he’d wanted to—her mind rebelled. And now he knew why. She’d finally given him a reason for rejecting him that he understood.
One he’d suspected all along. We’ll have that date, all right. The day you decide to stay in town.
She wanted a home in Yorkshire Falls. She needed stability and security, to live happily ever after in the way everyone knew her parents never had. He’d been too young and rushed to see the truth before, but he understood it now. And that meant she was the last woman he could turn to with his agenda. He couldn’t hurt her, and that meant he needed to take a lesson from Charlotte and steer clear.
“Next.” A gavel banged against the wooden platform on the desk up front.
Roman jumped in his seat, startled. “Dammit, I missed the outcome,” Roman muttered. Because he was preoccupied with her. This time he’d only missed out on the doggy dilemma, but next time he could miss much more. And that was something he couldn’t let happen.
“Is that you, Chandler?”
Roman turned at the sound of his name to see a familiar-looking guy slip into the seat behind him.
“Fred Aames, remember me?” He stuck out his hand.
Chase and Rick hadn’t been kidding. Fred no longer resembled the fat kid everyone had bullied. “Hey, Fred, how are you?” Roman shook his hand.
“Couldn’t be better. How ’bout you? What are you doing back here?”
“I’m back in town for my mom; I’m here now for the Gazette. ” Roman glanced forward. No one had introduced anything new for discussion yet.
“I heard about Raina’s hospital trip.” Fred ran a hand through his dark hair. “Man, I’m sorry.”
“Me too.”
“You covering for Ty?” He leaned forward and placed an arm behind Roman’s chair, nearly knocking him forward in the process. Fred had lost weight but not upper body strength. He was still one hell of a big guy.