The Bachelor (6 page)

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.

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. C
HARLOTTE’S
A
TTIC
—H
IDDEN
T
REASURES
F
OR THE
B
ODY
, H
EART, AND
S
OUL
.

“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 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.

Roman stifled a cough and nodded. “His wife went into labor and he couldn’t be in two places at once.”

“That’s nice of you. Besides, these meetings are as good a place as any to get caught up on what’s going on around here.”

“True enough.” If he paid attention, Roman thought. But he hadn’t a clue if Mick the beagle had been granted his freedom or
locked behind closed doors for the duration of his doggy life.

The sound of a gavel hitting the table let them know the meeting had adjourned for a short recess. Roman rose and stretched
in an attempt to wake himself up.

Fred stood, joining him. “Hey, you involved with anyone right now?”

Not yet.
Roman shook his head, refusing to go that route with anyone but his brothers. “Not at the moment, why?”

Fred stepped closer. “Sally’s been eyeing you. I thought she had a thing for Chase, but now she’s locked in on you.” With
a generous wave that made a mockery of his whisper, Fred gestured to where Sally Walker sat in her seat, taking notes for
the county record.

Sally half raised her hand in salutation, a blush staining her cheeks.

Roman waved back, then looked away, not wanting to encourage her obvious interest. “She’s not my type.” Because her name wasn’t
Charlotte. The thought surfaced unbidden. “Why don’t you go after her yourself?” Roman asked.

“Guess you didn’t hear I’m engaged,” Fred said proudly. “Marianne Diamond’s going to be my wife.”

One of his brothers had mentioned it earlier, Roman recalled now. He grinned, raised a hand to slap Fred on the back, but
refrained. He didn’t want the big man to reciprocate the gesture. “Well, good for you. Congratulations.”

“Thanks. Listen, I’ve got to talk to one of the councilmen before things heat up again. I’ve got a few jobs on hold pending
a permit … well, you don’t need to know details. See you around.”

“Sure thing.” Roman pinched the back of his neck. Exhaustion threatened to overwhelm him.

“How’d your first day back in the trenches go?”

He turned to see Chase standing beside him. “What’s wrong? Is it Mom?” He hadn’t expected to see Chase again tonight.

“No.” Chase laid a quick, comforting hand on Roman’s shoulder, then withdrew it.

“What, then? You don’t trust me to do my job?” Which wouldn’t be unfair, Roman thought. He still didn’t have an answer to
the Carltons’ beagle’s problem.

Chase shook his head. “I just figured you’d be antsy sitting at one of these things and thought I’d relieve you in case it
ran long.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “I overheard you and Fred. Looks like you’ve got yourself a candidate.”

“From what Fred said, Sally was interested in you first.”

“Trust me, the field is open. I wouldn’t hold it against you for stealing her away from me,” Chase said wryly. “Sally’s too
serious for me to even think about. She’s the type to be dreaming about a house and kids after one date.” He shuddered.

“If she likes a loner like you, she’s not gonna be interested in an outgoing guy like me.” Roman grinned, only too happy to
rib his brother about his lone wolf qualities. Rick had been right in saying women were drawn to their older brother’s brooding
silence.

But Chase stared him down, obviously unwilling to buy in to Roman’s excuses. “Sally’s ready to settle down. Everything she
wants right now would make her the perfect candidate for you. So why’d you tell Fred she’s not your type?”

“Because she isn’t.”

“Forgive me for pointing out the obvious, but isn’t that what you want? Sally’s interested in you and you don’t return the
sentiment. See if she’ll accept your arrangement.”

Roman glanced over his shoulder again and took in Sally Walker, an innocent, blushing type of woman. “I can’t.” He couldn’t
marry Sally. Sleep with Sally.

“I suggest you be careful, little brother. If you pick out a lady who actually is your type, you might not be in such a rush
to get the hell out.” Chase shrugged. “Just something to think about.”

Leave it to Chase, Roman’s father figure, to point out the obvious. Also leave it to Chase to remind Roman of his priorities.
His wife hunt. His brother was right. Roman needed a woman he could leave behind, not one he’d be drawn back to over and over
again. Yet another reason Charlotte was all wrong for him. He wished like hell he could get her out of his system once and
for all. But damned if he knew how. Touching her, tasting her, only made him want her more, not less.

An hour later, Roman headed home, Chase’s words in his mind, but Charlotte in his subconscious. In bed later that night, he
woke more than once in a heated sweat, Charlotte Bronson the cause.

Ten years, and the flame burned hotter than ever. Which only proved one thing: Temptation or no temptation, Roman couldn’t
afford to get involved with Charlotte. Not now. Not ever.

The sun woke Roman early the next morning. Despite a splitting headache, he stretched and climbed out of bed with a renewed
sense of determination and purpose. After a quick shower, he headed for the kitchen. Food wouldn’t kill the pain, but at least
something to eat would fill his empty stomach. He reached into his mother’s pantry, pulled out a box of Cocoa Puffs, poured
a bowl of cereal, added mini-marshmallows, then drowned the mixture with milk.

His stomach growled at the same time he settled in, sitting in the same chair he favored as a kid. Pulling out the latest
copy of the
Gazette,
he looked over the new and improved layout, and a tug of pride lodged in Roman’s throat.

Chase had managed to grow the paper along with the increased population in town.

The sound of someone running down the stairs startled him and he turned to see his mother come to a quick halt as she entered
the kitchen.

“Roman!”

“You were expecting someone else?”

She shook her head. “It’s just … I thought you’d left the house already.”

“And you decided to run a marathon while I was gone?”

“Weren’t you supposed to have breakfast with your brothers?”

He narrowed his gaze. “I couldn’t get out of bed this morning, and don’t change the subject. Was that you running down the
stairs? Because you’re supposed to be taking it easy, remember?” But hadn’t Rick said she’d sounded winded last night too?

“How could I forget something so important?” She placed a shaking hand to her chest, then walked slowly into the room, coming
up beside him. “What about you? Are you feeling okay?”

Other than disoriented from this circular conversation, he was fine. “Why wouldn’t I be okay?”

“Because your ears are obviously still clogged from the plane ride if you’re thinking you heard something as ridiculous as
me
running,
of all things. Do you want me to make an appointment with Dr. Fallon for you?” she asked.

He shook his head hard enough to clear his ears had they been blocked and met his mother’s gaze. “I’m fine. It’s you I’m worried
about.”

“No need.” She slowly lowered herself into the chair beside him, then stared at his cereal bowl, a frown puckering her face.
“Well, I see some things haven’t changed. I can’t believe I actually keep that garbage on hand for you. It’s going to—”

“Rot my teeth, I know.” She’d told him often enough as a kid. But she loved him enough to indulge him anyway. “You do realize
I haven’t lost one yet?”

“
Yet
being the operative word. A single man needs all his teeth, Roman. No woman finds it attractive to wake up in the middle
of the night and discover you soaking your dentures on the nightstand.”

He rolled his eyes. “Good thing I’m a respectful man and don’t let women spend the night.” Let his mother chew on that, Roman
thought wryly.

“Respect has nothing to do with it,” she muttered.

As usual, his mother had a point. Women didn’t stay overnight because he wasn’t currently involved and hadn’t been in a while,
and because women who spent the night took it for granted they could spend another one. And another. The next thing a man
knew, he was in a relationship—which Roman supposed wouldn’t be a bad thing, if he could find a woman who interested him for
more than a couple of weeks. Chase and Rick felt the same way. At this point, Roman figured the Chandler brothers’ hearts
were stamped NO TRESPASSING. Any intelligent woman read the fine print before getting involved in any way.