Charlotte slipped out without being noticed. The full moon in the night sky guided her way, the stars providing a glittering backdrop to the inky background above. The scent of the outdoors—new grass and flowers—accompanied every breath she took. She tried to give the panty thief some thought. Rick said things had been quiet during the week, but he didn’t consider the case over or forgotten. Charlotte drew a blank on who could be responsible, so she gave up trying.
Twenty minutes later, she was home and had shed her party clothes and changed into lounging wear—her favorite outfit, a white tank dress that hung to midcalf with a thick lace ruffle around the hem.
She’d snagged it out of the box before Beth could hang the garment or sell it to a customer. It was one of Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
the few items Charlotte had taken home instead of selling—because in it she felt feminine yet comfortable, and completely herself.
After mixing a glass of iced tea, she grabbed her favorite book, pushed open the window that led to the fire escape, and climbed out. The cool breeze brushed over her skin, but she didn’t mind. From the moment she’d seen this apartment, the hidden escape had been her favorite part of the deal—if she didn’t count the ability to roll out of bed and walk downstairs to work.
Anytime Charlotte climbed out here, she found herself alone, and she adored the solitude. She sat down, the oversized book in her lap, and began to browse through the pages. Of all the travel books and brochures she owned, Glamorous Getaways was her favorite. She’d purchased it with money from her first babysitting job and chosen it because the book highlighted Los Angeles, with the Hollywood sign nestled in the foothills. Within the City of Angels were the stars and celebrities, people like her father, she thought, when she was still little enough to dream.
Buying this book had enabled her to picture the places she thought he’d go, the restaurants he’d frequent, and the people he’d meet there. She’d conjured scenarios in which he’d take her by the hand and introduce her to the beautiful people while showing her the exotic places. Later, after she’d grown up and realized he wasn’t ever coming back for good, she’d substituted the dream of him taking her with him to traveling and seeing these places for herself.
But with that dream came the dreaded fear of being like the man she disdained, and Charlotte knew in her heart she’d never dare make those kinds of trips herself. Never again take the chance on being disillusioned by bitter reality. Or of turning selfish, like him.
Still, when she needed soothing, books like this one provided the distraction. She’d simply put her father and her past out of her mind, and enjoy the fantasy of travel and seeing wonderful new places. She inhaled deeply and flipped through the pages, but she wasn’t able to lose herself. Not tonight.
Just then, she heard a banging on her door. She rubbed her arms, realizing goose bumps had settled on her skin. The knock sounded again and she headed back inside to see who could possibly be out there.
Nearly midnight wasn’t appropriate calling time by Yorkshire Falls standards.
She placed the book back on the table and walked to the door. “Who’s there?”
“Roman. Open up.”
Her stomach did an unsettling flip. “It’s late.” And she wasn’t in the mood for any more push and shove between them.
He banged on the door once more. “Come on, Charlotte. Give me five minutes.” His voice was a deep, seductive rumble.
She leaned against the door—even with plasterboard between them, her body flushed with heat. “Go away.”
“Not until we talk.”
“Come by the shop in the morning.” When Beth was around as a buffer, Charlotte thought.
His fist pounded the door in response.
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
“You’re going to wake the neighbors.”
“Then let me in.”
“I wish I could,” she said, too low for him to hear. No way could she allow him into her small apartment, where he’d overwhelm her with his presence, his scent, his essence. She tipped her forehead against the cool plaster but found no relief from the internal heat he inspired.
Silence descended from outside, and though it was what she’d told him she wanted and she ought to be relieved, Charlotte was disappointed he’d given up so easily. She walked back to the table, but the book, which she’d found appealing before, now just served as a reminder of pain. Suddenly a loud clatter reverberated from outside, the sound of heavy banging coming from the fire escape stairs.
Obviously the man didn’t give up as easily as she’d thought. Her heart rate picked up rhythm and her pulse pounded in her dry throat. She watched as Roman reached her terrace and ducked so he could wedge his big body through the window frame. He entered her apartment and rose to his full height.
He was imposing no matter when she saw him, but in her small apartment, his size and magnetism were overwhelming. She swallowed hard, wondering what he wanted—and if she’d have the strength to resist the tug-of-war he so enjoyed.
CHAPTER SIX
Charlotte stood in her apartment, hands on her hips, and eyed Roman warily. He felt like a first-class shit—which he supposed he was, considering all that had passed between them since his return, including his current uninvited entry into her apartment.
After leaving the dance, he’d hung around her building for the better part of the night. The longer she’d been gone, the wilder his imagination had grown, until he’d been forced to face the fact that when it came to Charlotte, his emotions were out of control. That she’d finally returned, alone, hadn’t made a bit of difference in calming him down. Though Rick respected brotherly boundaries, Charlotte by no means belonged to Roman.
No matter how damn proprietary he felt, he had to let go. His pacing time tonight had given him the opportunity to think, and Roman now knew exactly what he had to say to Charlotte. He just didn’t know how to begin.
“You’re strangely silent for a man who just broke into my apartment,” she said at last.
“I didn’t break in—”
“I didn’t let you in the front door, so what do you call barging in through the window?”
“Visiting.” Stalling. He ran a hand through his hair. “Obviously you’re not in the mood to talk to me, so how about you just hear me out?”
She shrugged. “You’re here. The sooner you talk, the sooner you’ll leave.”
Now that he’d entered the inner sanctum, leaving was the last thing he desired. Her small apartment was Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
frilly and feminine, much like Charlotte. He took in the white walls, yellow trim, flowered furniture, and though he ought to feel out of place surrounded by so much femininity, he was intrigued and aroused instead. The journalist in him wanted to dig deeper, learn more. The man in him just wanted her.
Looking at her skimpy tank dress pumped more adrenaline through his veins. Though obviously meant for casual comfort, it was completely sensual. The snow-white shade contrasted with her tousled black hair. For a color that symbolized innocence, the white sheath conjured thoughts that were anything but pure.
But he wasn’t here to indulge in the sensual dance they did so well. He was here to explain himself and his feelings—something Roman Chandler had never done before, certainly not to a woman. But Charlotte wasn’t just any woman. She never had been.
And she deserved to know his pulling back had nothing to do with his feelings for her and everything to do with their differences—and the fact that he respected her needs. “I need to clear some things up.”
“What things?”
“You talked about the need to get me out of your system and vice versa.”