If The Shoe Fits (2 page)

“Charlotte King—”

“Yes, ma’am.” She seemed to answer
automatically like replaying a preprogrammed response used many
times in the past. Her smile never faded and the mischievous way
she rolled her eyes had Alex suppressing another chuckle.

Charlie held out her hand to him. “Why, if it
isn’t Prince Charming.”

That was the last thing Alex expected her to
say.

Stunned for only a moment, he chuckled. He
grasped her hand. He swore he heard a quick intake of breath from
her at the contact. Soft, smooth skin with perfectly applied red
nail polish, he noted. The touch sent a flood of warmth from his
palm through his body. He never wanted to let go. “You, my lady,
are the only one to dare say that to my face.”

He noted the red wrap dress hugging her
curves and a glimpse of her long legs peeking through the mid-thigh
slit. Then he realized she was in stockinged feet. She held a pair
of strappy red high heels in her other hand.

“Charlie, is it?” He nodded to her shoes,
asking, “May I help you with those?”

She giggled. As Charlie slipped on the left
shoe, and then did the same to the right one, she said, “No thanks,
I can do it myself, Prince Charming.”

“Well, if the shoe fits,” he teased her.

“Very clever. But that’s only if a girl wants
to be a Cinderella.”

He laughed heartily. Charlie had clearly told
him in no uncertain terms that she didn’t need a prince, much less
a man, to rescue her from anything. A spark of admiration lit in
him.

She was the first woman in years who didn’t
see him as a great catch. How refreshing.

Mrs. King cleared her throat in obvious
disapproval.

Turning to her family, Charlie nodded
politely. “Stepmother, sisters.”

Reluctantly, he followed suit. He encountered
the flash of anger directed her way.

“Charlotte, you are late.” Her stepmother’s
pinched mouth barely moved. “Poor Francine and Priscilla have been
entertaining our guest while you were lollygagging.”

“I’m sure they enjoyed every minute of having
Mr. Royale to themselves, isn’t that right, girls?” She brushed the
accusation away with what seemed like practiced ease.

In turn, each girl’s cheeks pinkened, making
Alex think they looked much better now with some color.

Another throat sound came out. Another
reprimand, Alex sensed. He turned back to help Charlie be seated.
She’d already moved to her place on the other side of the table
from him.

A stab of disappointment slashed through him.
Surprised at it, he shook it off quickly, reminding himself how
much he wanted to get this night over with.

“She was with Dexter again,” Priscilla
whispered loudly, uttering her first full sentence since Alex had
arrived.

“Dex,” Charlie corrected as she lifted her
chin higher in defiance, but didn’t deny the accusation.

His chest tightened. Who was Dex? Remembering
his manners, Alex assisted Francine, who’d been assigned a seat
beside his.

“Thank you,” she murmured so softly that he’d
thought it was just above a child’s whisper.

He groaned inwardly, thinking this was the
one they were trying to marry off to him. It was going to be a long
night.

***

From across the table, Charlotte watched in
approval. He was a gentleman, though society tutored, but
nonetheless a mannered one. That would be something the Barracuda
and Francine would appreciate. Score one for Alexander Royale, she
thought.

He was a handsome devil though, better than
any of the papers had ever been able to capture. Dark hair, dark
eyes, tall, and muscular: she recalled the broad, solid chest she’d
bumped into and the strong arms that instantly had wrapped around
her. Heat, a sexy musky scent…and his hand, strong yet gentle…

She brushed her fingers against her palm,
still tingling from his touch.

Her lips parted at the memory of being in his
arms. A rush of warmth coursed through her body. She’d never been
so affected by a man in her entire life, never mind one she’d just
met and in less than ten seconds.

Reluctantly, she pulled herself out of her
reverie. She had a mission to accomplish: Get Francine married, and
then she could save King’s Department Store. She owed it to her
late father to bring back his beloved store from the brink of
demise.

Update and renovate, she’d often remind her
stepmother when plunging sales reports littered Charlie’s desk at
work. The store, and how to restore it to its former glory days,
consumed her more and more these days.

But now, gazing into Alexander Royale’s
laughing dark eyes, she felt a genuine pang of regret. What would
it feel like to be in love just once?

Love and marriage weren’t in the cards for
her, she reminded herself, not now when she could do so much for
King’s Department Store. Maybe never. The store would always come
first. She sighed heavily.

An hour later, she’d run out of things to
champion her stepsister’s cause. Charlie desperately searched for
something, anything else to point out to him. “Oh, I almost forgot.
How silly of me. Francine takes piano lessons. I’m sure you’d love
to play something for Mr. Royale after dinner, Francie, wouldn’t
you?”

She noted how Alex quickly covered his mouth
with his starched white napkin. To hide a smile or stump down a
groan, she wondered mischievously. His narrowed, dark brown eyes
met hers and she knew.

She was going to get hers. A shiver raced
down her spine.

Halfway through the meal, Charlie’s heart
warmed even more at all the praise Alex heaped on her friend.

“This is delicious, Dolly,” he complimented
her for the fourth or fifth time. “Where in the world did you learn
to cook like this?”

The cook, standing beside him, nudged his
shoulder with her hand. “Aw, shucks, Mr. R. You keep sweet-talking
me and I just may have to move in with you.”

“Be my guest. In fact, if you ever want a
change, I’ll hire you and for twice as much as what the Kings are
paying you.”

Mrs. King let out an exasperated breath. “Oh,
please. She’s just doing what she’s being paid to do. Cook, clean…”
She waved a hand to encompass the house.

“Kowtow,” Charlie interrupted.

The sisters gasped in unison. Her stepmother
snapped her head around to stare directly at Charlie. The lethal,
narrow-eyed gaze would have cut some men in two.

Charlie steeled herself, raising her eyebrows
and said, “It’s true.”

Turning away, she caught Alex’s gleaming
stare and a ghost of a smile. This time, he was the one to wink at
her. Another rush of warmth raced through her.

What was he doing to her?

***

Charlie hated the drawing room or, at least,
what the barracuda had done to it soon after her father had died.
The now flowery, feminine room seemed far removed from the
masculine room with rich, leather chairs, dark wood, and scent of
cherry pipe tobacco that her father had favored. An ache of sorrow
shot through her every time she entered this room and thought of
the man she mourned for.

The sooner she could make her escape from
here and go to the kitchen to be with Dolly the better for her, she
thought, flinching at the sour notes Francine began to play.

***

Alex plotted the throttling of Charlie for
suggesting this as he endured yet one more painful tune from
Francine. He winced as she missed another note, but quickly pasted
a smile on his face as Mrs. King looked his way.

Thinking of Charlie had him searching the
room in earnest. The little devil snuck out!

***

Sitting across the table from her longtime
friend, Charlie slid the spoonful of homemade cherry vanilla ice
cream into her mouth. She moaned. “Heavenly.”

Dolly pointed her spoon at another container
between them. “Try the chocolate one. I betcha it’s even
better.”

“I doubt that.”

“Five bucks says I’m right.”

“Nobody bets against a sure thing, Dolly,”
she said, knowing that her friend’s claims were most likely true.
But she did take a dip and taste. Closing her eyes, she savored
every drop.

“See, I told you. Now pay up.”

Charlie chuckled, opening her eyes once
again. “You’re a dream, my friend. You could make a fortune going
into business with just your ice cream alone, never mind all your
other concoctions.”

She noted the pink coloring Dolly’s cheeks.
“Aw, shucks, honey.”

“At least you got a job offer from the
prince.” She raised and lowered her brows a few times. “That could
be mighty interesting.”

“You’re telling me! My, that man is gorgeous.
And the way he looks at you—”

“No he doesn’t,” she interrupted quickly, her
throat going dry.

“Yes, he does.”

“No—”She stopped herself short. The memory of
his dark eyes on hers, his sexy smile, muscled arms wrapped around
her… Her cheeks warmed. “Maybe,” she said softly.

Dolly snorted, but didn’t say another
word.

The high, tinny notes from the piano reached
Charlie’s conscious now. “It doesn’t matter. He’s Francine’s
anyway.”

“If you say so,” Dolly said sourly, lifting
an eyebrow as she stared meaningfully at her.

“He is.”

They both cringed at the next resounding note
and heard the sisters’ raised voices.

“Trouble,” Dolly said, nodding to the other
room as she dipped her spoon into some plain vanilla this time.

“Earplugs?” Charlie asked hopefully. “For
two?”

“Sure thing. I got some. Need them in this
house with them three harping and banging and who knows what else.”
She stopped for a moment to listen to the two sisters fight about
who was going to play next for Mr. Royale. “But the playing part
might be all over for the night. Anyhow, you can have anything I’ve
got, earplugs included. What’s mine is yours, always has been.”

“What’s mine is yours, too, you know that.”
Charlie smiled widely at her friend. They’d had that pact for years
now.

Dolly waved her spoon in the direction of the
other room. “But did you have to go and share them three? That I
coulda done without.”

“What? And let me keep all that pain and
suffering to myself?”

They both laughed at that.

When they’d calmed down, Dolly said with a
conspiratorial whisper, “But he’s a handsome one, ain’t he?”

“Oh, my yes.” Charlie nearly moaned out her
approval.

“Not at all like them pictures of him you see
in the papers. Even the ones with him at his island getaway. Much
better looking, if you ask me.”

“And not as stuck-up as I’d thought.”

“Stuck-up?” Alexander Royale asked, standing
with a shoulder against the doorframe, arms folded over that wide
chest, and his feet crossed at the ankles.

Charlie gulped.

Alex’s breath hitched as he stared at the
woman across the room. Her tongue darted out to take a swipe of
something from the corner of her mouth. He groaned. She had no idea
what she did to a man. Maybe that was the fascination he had with
her. He shook his head, trying to dislodge that little tidbit from
his mind.

He pushed away from the door and walked
toward them. “Ladies, for shame, hiding in here.” Then he smiled,
saying, “And without telling me and trying to save me from that
racket. I’m sure I’ve lost part of my hearing.”

The ladies giggled like schoolgirls, which
just seemed to endear them to him even more. If he’d had his way,
he’d have spent the entire evening in here with them.

“Mr. R., why don’t you grab a spoon and join
us? Two drawers over there, you got it,” Dolly offered. “Pull up a
chair and sit a spell.”

He smiled again as he shrugged off his jacket
and tossed it on the nearby counter. Pulling out the chair, he
turned it around. He straddled it. Taking off his cuff links, he
rolled up his sleeves, and then loosened his tie. He looked at the
three tall white containers lined in front of him. His mouth
watered. “My, my, what do we have here?”

“Dolly’s homemade ice cream, at your
service.” Charlie waved a hand with a flourish. “The best darn ice
cream in town.”

Turning to her quickly, he gazed directly
into her eyes. Soft, warm caramel, he thought. He could get lost in
them. Mentally shaking himself, he arched an eyebrow. “The best,
huh?”

“Ten bucks says it is.” He caught the wink
she gave her friend.

“A betting woman.”

“Only on a sure thing.”

Rubbing his thumb and forefinger over his
jaw, he said, “I don’t know. Dolly’s already proved she’s a great
cook. Most men wouldn’t bet money against a sure thing.”

Dolly broke in, saying, “You could put up
something other than money.”

“Dolly!” Charlie exclaimed.

The maid stared at her wide-eyed. “Not
that
, honey.”

Alex bit the inside of his cheek. The two of
them could be a comedy team. That was it, he thought; they made him
laugh. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d laughed as much in a
week, never mind just one evening.

“Ten bucks it is then.” He pulled out a ten
to lay it down on the table.

“Two fives, please,” Charlie said.

He frowned, but took out the two fives
instead.

“Deal is, all three have to be the best. If
they are you get ten bucks. And if not…” He let the last hang in
the air as he stared at her parted lips. “A kiss.”

“From Dolly,” she said with a smile and
raised eyebrow.

He took the bait and gave some back. He
glanced from Charlie to the maid and back again. “Both of you.”

Dolly whooped at that one. “Dagnabbit, I wish
I wasn’t such a good cook.”

Alex chuckled. “Remember, never bet against a
sure thing.”