The Bachelor (3 page)

“Look at this store, for example.” Beth waved a hand through the air. “You sell the packaging, and hence you’re responsible
for the rejuvenation of many relationships and marriages that have gotten stale.”

“I can’t argue with you there.” Charlotte had been told the same thing by many of her customers.

Beth grinned. “Half the women in this town are getting lucky, thanks to you.”

“I wouldn’t go that far.”

Her friend shrugged. “Whatever. The point is, aren’t you sending the message that packaging is important?”

“I’d rather think I’m sending the message that it’s okay to be yourself.”

“I think we’re saying the same thing, but I’ll drop it for now. Did I tell you David offers packages? Eyes and chin, uplifts
and implants.”

Charlotte rolled her eyes. As far as she was concerned, Beth had been perfect before going under the knife, and Charlotte
still didn’t understand what had compelled her to think she needed to change. And Beth obviously wasn’t talking. Just advertising
her soon-to-be husband’s services.

“Has anyone mentioned you’re beginning to sound like an advertisement for your plastic surgeon?”

Beth smiled. “But of course. I plan to marry the man. Why not boost his business and our joint bank account at the same time?”

Beth’s mercenary words were at odds with the sweet, down-to-earth woman Charlotte knew her to be. Another subtle change in
Beth that Charlotte had noticed since her return. Like Charlotte, Beth had been born and raised in Yorkshire Falls. And like
Charlotte had once done, Beth would move to New York City soon. Charlotte hoped her friend enjoyed the bright lights and big
city. She remembered her own experience there with mixed feelings. At first, she’d loved the busy streets, the frantic pace,
the glow of light and life even late at night. But once the newness faded, an emptiness grew. After living in a close-knit
community like Yorkshire Falls, the loneliness had been overwhelming. Something Beth wouldn’t have to deal with, since she
was moving to New York to be with her husband.

“You know I’m never going to be able to replace you,” Charlotte said wistfully. “You’re the perfect assistant.” When Charlotte
had decided to leave her sales manager job at a posh New York City boutique and open Charlotte’s Attic back home, it hadn’t
taken more than one phone call to convince Beth to leave her job as a receptionist at a real estate office to come work with
Charlotte.

“I’m going to miss you too. This job has been more rewarding than anything else I’ve done.”

“That’s because you’re finally putting your talent to use.”

“Thanks to your vision. This place is incredible.”

Charlotte merely blushed. She’d been worried about a chic boutique succeeding in her small, upstate hometown. It was Beth
who’d pushed and supported her emotionally during the preopening stages. Charlotte’s concern had been unwarranted. Thanks
to television, the Internet, and magazines, Yorkshire Falls’ women were ready for fashion. Her store was a hit—if somewhat
of an oddity among the old-time shops that still remained.

“Speaking of talent, I’m so glad we chose this aqua color instead of black.” Beth fingered the strings tied tightly around
the back of the mannequin.

“It’s the exact color of the water off the Fiji Islands. The Koro Sea, and the South Pacific Ocean.” Charlotte closed her
eyes and envisioned the setting depicted in the brochures she had in her backroom office.

Not that she planned to travel, but the dream of faraway places had beckoned to her for as long as she could remember. As
a young girl, pictures of idyllic resorts nurtured her hope that her errant father would return and share what she’d perceived
as his glamorous life. Today she couldn’t squelch the occasional urge to see exotic places, but she feared that desire made
her too much like her father—selfish, shallow, and ungiving—so she settled for photos instead. Like the ones in her office
portraying glistening water, white frothing waves, and hot sun heating bare skin.

“Not to mention the aqua color will complement the rest of the summer window display?”

Beth’s voice intruded on Charlotte’s thoughts and she opened one eye. “That too. Now be quiet and let me return to my daydream.”
But the spell had been broken.

“It’s hard to get used to looking at bathing suits when we’re just coming off winter.”

“I know.” Besides luxurious and basic undergarments, Charlotte also sold some fashionable eclectic pieces— sweaters in the
winter, bathing suits and matching cover-ups in the summer. “But the fashion world works on its own schedule.”

And so did Charlotte. The cold air had barely begun to give way to a slight March warming trend, but Charlotte dressed for
the summer season anyway, in shockingly bright colors and light fabrics. What had started as a bid to lure people into her
store had worked. Now word of mouth brought people to her store, and she’d grown to love the clothes she wore.

“I was thinking we could put the bathing suits in the right-hand corner of the display,” Charlotte told Beth.

“Sounds like a good plan.”

Charlotte dragged the mannequin toward the window overlooking First Avenue, Yorkshire Falls’ main strip. She’d been fortunate
in nabbing the perfect location, formerly Guy’s Clothing Store. Charlotte wasn’t worried about putting another retail store
in the space because her merchandise kept up with the times. She’d had six months at the old rental before a rent increase
kicked in, time enough to get her business off the ground, and her success told her she was on the right track.

“Listen, I’m starving. I’m going to grab some dinner next door. Want to join me?” Beth grabbed her jacket off the rack in
the back and slipped it on.

“No, thanks. I think I’ll stick around and put some finishing touches on the window display.” Charlotte and Beth had accomplished
an almost complete overhaul of inventory today. It was easier to get things done when the store was closed than during business
hours. The customers didn’t just enjoy shopping, they enjoyed chitchat as well.

Beth sighed. “Suit yourself. But your social life is pathetic. Even I’m better company than those mannequins.”

Charlotte started to laugh, then glanced at Beth and saw something more in her friend’s eyes than a good joke. “You miss him,
don’t you?”

Beth nodded. Her fiancé had come up almost every weekend, staying Friday through Sunday night before returning to the city
for the work week. Since he’d missed this weekend, Charlotte figured Beth probably wasn’t looking forward to another lonely
meal.

Neither was Charlotte. “You know what? Go get a table and I’ll meet you there in five …” Her voice trailed off as she caught
sight of a man outside the window.

Jet-black hair gleamed in the sunlight and a pair of sexy sunglasses were perched on the bridge of his nose, obscuring his
face from view. A worn denim jacket covered his broad shoulders, and jeans hugged his long legs. Charlotte’s stomach did a
flip, bringing a warm sensation to her belly as recognition flickered with possibility.

She blinked, certain she’d been mistaken, but he’d backed far enough away that he was gone from view. She shook her head.
Impossible, she thought. Everyone in town knew Roman Chandler was off traveling and reporting the news. Charlotte had always
respected his ideals, the burning desire to expose unreported injustices, even if she didn’t understand the needs that kept
him far from home.

His aspirations had always reminded her of her actor father’s. So had his good looks and charm. A wink, a smile, and women
swooned at his feet. Heck,
she’d
swooned, and after a lot of flirting and lingering looks, they’d gone on their first date. One night—a night in which she’d
connected with Roman on a meaningful level. She’d fallen hard and fast, as only a teenage girl could. And a night during which
she’d discovered Roman’s intention to leave Yorkshire Falls as soon as the opportunity arose.

Charlotte’s father had abandoned his wife and child for Hollywood years before. With Roman’s declaration, she’d immediately
recognized the devastation he could leave in his wake.

She had only to look to her mother’s lonely life to find the nerve to act on her conviction. She’d walked away from Roman
that same night, lying that he didn’t “do it” for her. And she hadn’t let herself look back, no matter how badly she hurt—and
she had hurt.

Look, don’t touch. Smart rules for a girl who wanted her heart and soul intact. She might not feel like dating now, but when
the right man showed himself, she would. Until then, she’d abide by her rules. She had no intention of following the same
path her mother had taken, waiting for the wanderer to sporadically return, so she wouldn’t involve herself with a restless
soul like Roman Chandler. Not that she had to worry about such a thing. No way was he in town, and if he were, he’d steer
clear of her.

Beth’s hand on her shoulder caught her by surprise and she jumped.

“Hey, you okay?”

“Fine. I just got distracted.”

Beth flicked her blond hair out from beneath her collar, then opened the door to the street. “Okay, then. I’ll grab a table
and see you in a few minutes.” She let the door close behind her and Charlotte turned back to the mannequin, determined to
finish the job—and calm down—before heading out to dinner.

There was no way Roman was back in town, she told herself. No way at all.

D
usk was setting on the horizon when Roman entered Norman’s Garden Restaurant, named in part for Norman Hanover senior, who’d
first opened the place, and in part for the gardens across the street. Norman’s was now run by Norman, junior, owner and chef.
The morning after the coin toss and his first full day back in Yorkshire Falls, Roman slept in, then kept himself busy playing
cards with his mother and making sure she stayed off her feet. He’d also spent the time pondering an offer that had been relayed
to him that morning from the
Washington Post
to take over an editorial job in D.C.

Any journalist would kill for the position, Roman knew. Though he had to admit he might enjoy the political intrigue and change
of pace, settling in one place had never been on his agenda. He’d done his share of traveling, but there was more to see,
more news to report, and injustices to expose—though with the corruption in Washington, D.C., Roman figured he wouldn’t be
bored there.

He doubted he’d feel as confined living in the nation’s capital as he had in his small hometown, and might even have taken
the offer more seriously had he not lost the coin toss. Now that he had a potential wife to contend with, one who’d undoubtedly
want to live with a husband who made his home within the United States, he had good reason not to take the job. At this point
a return abroad sounded even more appealing.

By early evening, his mother had dozed in front of the television and Roman had finally been able to leave the house knowing
she was resting and he didn’t have to worry about her trying to overdo.

Because it was late, he walked quickly through town until color in a storefront window—lots of vibrant color— caught his eye,
causing him to stop and check out the change. He squinted for a better look, bringing him nose to glass with women’s lingerie.

Frilly, sexy nighties, garters, and whatever else the opposite sex wore to attract a man—and he’d seen plenty of those getups
in his time—decorated the display. The items in the window were sensual and decadent, including enticing animal prints.

Apparently some things in his small hometown
had
changed. As he wondered who was responsible for knocking conservatism to its knees, last night’s conversation with his brothers
came back to him.
Is Charlotte Bronson back in town?
he’d asked them.

Owns a little business on First
. …
Stop by and see for yourself.
His brothers’ replies had been deliberately vague, definitely amused, Roman thought now.

He allowed himself another glance at the provocative panties in the window and shook his head hard. No way Charlotte Bronson
owned this shop. The Charlotte he remembered had been more quiet than outgoing, more innately sensual than overtly sexy. The
combination had always intrigued him, but regardless, her personality type didn’t strike him as one who’d open such an enticing
and erotic shop.
Or would she?

A horn honked, jerking Roman back into reality, and he turned to see Chase’s truck pull into an empty spot down the street.
He glanced at his watch. Rick would already be inside. Plenty of time to check out the shop after he met up with his brothers.
He headed into the restaurant and strode to the back, bypassing the tables by the windows up front.

Roman met Rick by the old jukebox machine, which featured the jazzy reggae beat of the newest hit on the charts. He glanced
around, taking in the familiar atmosphere. “Except for the music, nightlife in Yorkshire Falls is as exciting as ever.”

Rick shrugged. “Did you really expect things to change?”

“I guess not.” Even the decor was the same, he noted. Thanks to Norman senior’s obsession with bird-watching, the restaurant’s
motif was comprised of wooden hand-painted birdhouses lining the walls, while pictures of varying species in their natural
habitat hung in between.

The place had been and still was home to the older teens seeking independence from their parents, the singles in town, and
the families needing a bite after Little League practice. Tonight, the patrons included the Chandler brothers. After living
out of hotels for weeks on end and rarely seeing his New York apartment, let alone his family, Roman had to admit coming home
felt good.

“Just tell me the burgers are as good as I remember and I’ll be a happy man.”

Rick laughed. “Takes so little to make you happy.”

“What would it take to make you happy, Rick?” Years had passed since Rick’s marriage ended in a devastating divorce, his wife
leaving him for another man. To his credit, Rick had remained the happy-go-lucky brother, but Roman often wondered what pain
he hid inside.