Text Appeal (2 page)

The saleswoman frowned.

Charlie was studying Riley now, but at least that damn smirk was gone. “She’ll take it,” he said, never taking his eyes off Riley’s face.

The saleswoman’s smile returned. “Great,” she said before bouncing away.

“I’m not going to let you buy me lingerie, Charlie,” Riley said, but her eyes were glued to the bustier on display, and Inner Naughty Girl was damn near salivating over the thought of her next fix.

Time she accept the facts: if she was going to kick this addiction, she needed professional help—something she should have recognized around the time she’d nicknamed her secret wild side her ING.

“Don’t be a spoil sport,
Ry
,” Charlie said, his voice soft.

Riley chewed on her lip and tore her eyes away from the bustier to look at Charlie. ING purred again. Apparently she liked Charlie even more than she liked lingerie—precisely why she couldn’t be trusted.

“I see the way you look at that bustier.”

“It’s fine leather craftsmanship,” she said, forcing a shrug. “I appreciate the work.”

With a smile, he lowered his voice. “Honey, look at
me
like you’re looking at that get-up, and I’ll buy you the whole damn store.” He winked and her insides shimmied.

The rational part of her brain stepped forward, and she thumped him on the arm. “Stop coming on to me.”

He cocked his head. “Why?”

“Because I’m...” That was a good question. Why?

Right.
Chaz
.
Remember
Chaz
, she lectured herself. “I’m seeing someone.”

“Ah,” Charlie said, sliding his glasses back on and hiding those hypnotic blue eyes. “And you don’t want to be thinking of me when you wear it for him?”

“No!”

“You won’t think of me?”

“I won’t wear it for him,” she said through her teeth.

He raised a brow.
“Because...he prefers satin?”

“I’m not going to wear it at all,” she seethed. “
Chaz
doesn’t need me to dress in outrageous lingerie. He’s very...respectable.”

Charlie wrinkled his nose. “I’m sorry. Do you want me to talk to him about that?”

“Why would I—? No!” Why did she always let him do this to her? All he had to do was walk in a room and she turned into a frazzled, driveling idiot.

And—more to the point—why did she seem to
enjoy
it?

Charlie strode to the counter where the saleswoman was ringing up the bustier.

Riley swallowed. She could practically feel the leather now. What would it hurt, really, letting him buy her a little something? They were friends. Wasn’t that what friends did?

Where was her reasonable self when she needed her?

You left her out on the sidewalk, Riley, right next to your dignity.

Charlie pulled out his credit card, and Riley groped at the last thread of her willpower. “Don’t waste your money.”

His gaze traveled slowly up her body, inch by inch. Her thighs clenched and her nipples tightened. “Trust me, it’s no waste,” he said, his voice rough and low. “And if you ever need someone to wear it for—”

He didn’t get a chance to finish because the man behind them in line tapped him on the shoulder.

Saved by the tourist.

Charlie turned around. “Can I help you?”

“Hey, man, are you Charlie Singleton, the professional poker player?”

Charlie smiled and offered his hand. “I sure am.”

The man pulled a rolled up manila envelope from his back pocket and slapped it into Charlie’s open palm. “Mr. Singleton, you’ve been served.”

***

Charlie stayed behind when Riley left Fredrick’s. Only after she was gone did he turn back to the woman who’d rung up Riley’s bustier. He gave her the sweetest smile he could muster, given the circumstances.

Her eyes drifted south…and landed on the manila envelope. If she was wondering what the hell he’d been served for, she could take a number. “Can I help you?”

“You sure can. I was hoping you could tell me where Angela Rollins’ office is?”

It didn’t take genius to figure out Angela had set him up. Her voicemail had been so sweet, he should have guessed she covering something vile.

Hey, Charlie, it’s Angela. Yeah, remember from high school? Good times! Listen, I was hoping to see you when you’re in town for the tournament. I’m the manager at Fredrick’s on the Miracle Mile. Stop by.

Such an innocent voicemail, and he’d been half excited about reliving some good old days with her. Apparently he’d forgotten Angela’s middle name was
Manipulative
. He didn’t know what he’d just been served with, but he knew he had Angela to thank.

“May I tell her who’s asking?”

“Just say her old friend Charlie is here. I’m sure she’ll want to see me.”

The girl nodded and picked up her phone. “Ms. Rollins? A man by the name of Charlie is here to see you?” With a nod, she hung up the phone. “Follow me?”

The narrow hallway behind the front counter led to a small office with a placard reading,
Angela Rollins, Manager
. Go figure, she hadn’t lied about everything.

“Come on in, Charlie,” Angela called from behind a big mahogany desk. She was tall and lithe, just as he remembered her, but she had a little age on her face now, and cynicism showed in the features framed by her stick-straight black bob.

“What is this about?” he said, holding up the manila envelope.

She smirked. “I see they found you.”

“And I suppose I have you to thank for that? What the hell, Angela? I haven’t seen you in sixteen years and you call out of the blue and ask me to meet you at your store so you can have me
served
? And why the hell didn’t you try a fucking phone call first?”

She pushed back from her desk and smoothed down her skirt. “My lawyer thought it would be best to let the courts handle this. Since they couldn’t catch you at the hotel, thanks to the limited access to that fancy suite, we thought this might work just as well.”

“And, what, may I ask, is this about?”

She picked up her purse and slung it over her shoulder. “Listen, I don’t want this to be ugly. I just want it to be over. If you have any questions, you can call my lawyer.” She handed him a slick beige business card and motioned him out of the office.

He begrudgingly stepped out and watched her as she locked up.

She turned around and ran her gaze over him—up, down, and slowly up again. “You look good, Charlie. I hope when this all settles, we can go for a drink and put this all behind us.”

He watched her walk out the back exit before looking at the card in his hand.

CLERENCE FRENCH LAW, LTD.

Specializing in Child Custody, Child Support

Chapter Two

Riley stared at her new phone and frowned. “I really don’t think I needed anything this high tech.” She opened the door to the apartment she and Lacey shared. Jaws, her
bichon-poo
, hopped off the couch and made a beeline for her.

Lacey laughed. “
Ry
, that’s not high tech. It’s just a standard smart phone.”

Riley wrinkled her nose. “It has an MP3 player, a camera, and a full keyboard.” She dropped her bags on the couch and crouched to greet the dog who instantly rolled on his back for a belly rub. “And I don’t need my phone to check my e-mail. I have a computer for that.”

“Your dog is such a man-whore,” Lacey said.

Riley rubbed Jaws’ tummy, and crooned, “She’s so mean,” but she didn’t deny it. She looked up at Lacey. “I just think I need something simpler.”

“It’s pretty standard stuff these days. Did no one welcome you to the twenty-first century?” She grinned. “Just wait. You’re going to love having your work calendar sync right up with that puppy. Once you’re Grand Escape’s General Manager, you’ll love having your e-mail at your fingertips.”

Riley studied the phone
again,
a sleek little chrome number the guy at the counter swore would be her new crack cocaine—was that supposed to be a selling point?
“
If
I get the position.
I had to put in an application like everyone else.”

“You’ll get it!” Lacey said, tossing her purse on the counter. “You’ll be the best GM Grand Escape has ever had.”

“I hope you’re right,” Riley muttered. She shook her head, trying to toss thoughts of work to the side. “I need to figure out how to program my numbers into this phone before dinner.” She walked across the living room and pulled her address book from her desk, leaving Jaws behind to beg for attention from Lacey.

“Wow,” Lacey said, pulling the ball of apricot fur into her arms. “I didn’t know anyone still had one of those.”

“Good thing I do.”

“Yeah, I guess so. It’s just a pain because if you hadn’t lost your old phone, they could have synched them and loaded all your numbers into the new phone for you.”

Riley shook her head. “If I hadn’t lost my old phone, I wouldn’t have bought the new phone.”

Lacey rolled her eyes. “
Ry
, it was the size of my purse and it didn’t even have a camera.”

“I never had to worry about misplacing it.” She frowned.
“Until I did.
And who the heck decided phones should double as cameras?”

“Someone who understood the hidden potential of phone sex.
You
needed
to upgrade.”

“Yeah, well I guess it’s good that today’s trip to Fredrick’s was on your brother,” Riley mumbled.

“Here, give me that. I’ll be able to program it way faster than—” She stopped and her big blue eyes rounded. “Wait. What did you just say?”

“I ran into Charlie at Fredrick’s of Hollywood.”
Just talking about him made her lips tug into a grin.
Dear God, she was pathetic.

“You did?”

“I know I said I wasn’t going to shop there anymore, but they were having a
sale
and—”

Lacey’s swatted her arm. “I don’t care about why you were in there! A girl deserves pretty things.”

Riley rolled her eyes. “I don’t need a whole
closet
full of lingerie though.”

“Who cares? God knows if I were about to come into the amount of fat cash you are, I’d have twenty maxed out credit cards and a different pair of panties for every day of the year. I want to know why
my brother
was buying you underwear!”

Riley ignored Lacey’s assumption that she was even interested in the “fat cash.” At thoughts of Charlie, she put her hand over her face. “Oh, God, it was embarrassing!
And not underwear, no, nothing that innocuous.”

“What’d he buy you?” Lacey’s gaze shot to the nondescript, eco-friendly canvas shopping bag on the couch. “Is it in there?”

But before Riley could respond, Lacey was pulling out sexy, sexy leather and Riley’s ING was squirming impatiently, saying,
Let me try it on. Now!