Welcome to Paradise: Welcome to Paradise, Book 1 (3 page)

Owen blinked in surprise. “Well, because she’s Charlotte Hill. She’s one of the most famous singers in the country.”

“She wasn’t famous back then,” he pointed out.

“Yeah, but she got that scholarship to Julliard. I always figured she dumped you before she left.”

“Sorry to burst that bubble.”

Owen gaped at him. “You dumped
her
?”

The abrupt exclamation made Nate glance around to make sure nobody had overheard his brother. The people in this town were nosy enough to begin with—no point giving them fuel for their fires. Fortunately, no one seemed interested in what was going on at the Bishop brothers’ booth.

“Yeah, I did,” he replied in a low voice. “But I’d appreciate it if you kept that to yourself.”

“Huh. So…what are you going to say to her when you see her?”

The image of Charlotte’s pale green eyes and wavy red hair flashed across his mind. He’d just watched her most recent televised concert a few weeks ago, alone, in the dark, and had wondered that exact same thing. What would he say to her if they ever crossed paths again? He hadn’t had an answer then, and he didn’t have one now.

He did know one thing, though, and, in a strained tone, he voiced the thought to his brother.

“I doubt I’ll get the chance. She won’t want to talk to me.”

Sympathy flickered in Owen’s gray eyes, the same stormy silver as Nate’s. “You don’t know that.”

“Yeah, I do.” He spoke through his suddenly tight throat. “Believe me, I’m the last person Charlotte will want to see. Tonight…or ever.”

Welcome to Paradise
.

The sky-blue sign welcoming Charlotte to the town of Paradise, Colorado, brought both a jolt of anger and a bittersweet lump to her throat.

She was home.

Leaning forward in the backseat of the taxi, she peered out the window and absorbed her familiar surroundings. Georgia would probably scold her for vetoing the stretch limo idea and taking a cab instead, but a limo was way too pretentious for Charlotte’s liking. She’d also decided against bringing her usual crew of bodyguards, much to her manager’s irritation. But no way was she coming home with an entourage. Growing up, she’d hated drawing any attention to herself, and old habits died hard.

“Pretty town,” the cab driver spoke up. “My granddaughter just moved here.”

Yes, she couldn’t deny Paradise was pretty. With the mountains looming in the distance, Paradise was home to lush forests, big lakes and secret creeks, an outdoorsman’s dream. As they ventured into the heart of the town, she noticed that not much had changed. Aside from the outlet mall they’d passed half a mile ago, Paradise had stayed immune to big city interference. Main Street still featured a variety of little shops and family-owned restaurants, and as the taxi stopped to let a few pedestrians pass, she noticed a construction crew working hard in the town square, evidently getting ready for tonight’s big event.

They drove past the beautiful historical buildings that housed the
Paradise Post
, the courthouse, and the offices of Lockhart and Lockhart Attorneys, all of which made Charlotte smile ruefully. The Price and Lockhart families owned nearly everything in town, even co-owned some, which was ironic since the two families despised each other. Charlotte wasn’t much of a history buff, but everyone in Paradise knew of the Price-Lockhart feud. The two town founders, Jeremiah Price and Edward Lockhart, had once been friends according to the legends, but a falling out between them had led to a rivalry that still existed today.

It had been fun, watching Lexie Price and Bree Lockhart claw each other’s eyes out during high school. Charlotte always found it funny how prejudice was passed down from generation to generation.

“Here we are,” the driver announced, coming to a stop in front of the quaint Victorian that housed the Anderson B&B.

As Charlotte got out of the cab, the driver hopped out to get her suitcase from the trunk. She’d packed light—she only planned on being here for a few days—and she carried her own suitcase down the flower-lined pathway toward the wooden wraparound porch.

The front door flew open before she could even knock and a pair of chubby arms engulfed Charlotte in a big hug.

“My Lord!” Sue Anderson exclaimed. “Look at you, all grown up! Why, Charlotte Hill, you are stunning!”

The first smile of the day sprung to Charlotte’s lips. Unlike everyone else, Sue Anderson had been good to her back then, and she knew there was nothing false about Sue’s excitement or compliments.

“It’s good to see you, Mrs. A,” she said, genuinely pleased by the sight of Sue’s familiar cornflower-blue eyes and short curly hair, which was now more silver than blonde.

Sue ushered her inside, barraging her with questions about her music, her career and life in general. When Charlotte assured her that everything was going well, Sue gave a beaming smile and led her upstairs to the suite she’d prepared for her.

“Everyone is so excited that you’re back,” Sue gushed.

I doubt it
.

She kept the thought to herself and admired the pretty bedroom, complete with a canopy bed, thick cherry-red curtains and antique mahogany furniture.

“I am so proud of what you’ve accomplished, Charlotte,” Sue said as she lingered in the doorway. “I’m sure your mama would be too.”

Bitterness seeped into her mouth, making her swallow down the sour taste. Her mother, proud? Not likely. Tiffany Hill—Tiff, as she’d liked to be called—had only cared about one person when she’d been alive: herself. And maybe her vodka. And the parade of men she brought into their home.

Her daughter, on the other hand, never even made a blip on Tiff’s radar.

“It’s a shame you had the old house torn down,” Sue added, referring to the childhood home Charlotte had ordered to be demolished less than a week after her mother’s death.

“Mayor Price wanted the land,” Charlotte replied with a shrug. “And since I didn’t plan on using it, I figured it would be of better use to the mayor.”

“Well, he did make use of it. Little Lexie lives there now. Mayor built her a gorgeous house up there.”

Charlotte almost tripped over her own feet. Lexie Price lived on her former land? Wasn’t that something. She suddenly felt like laughing as she wondered if Lexie had performed an exorcism prior to moving in, so she could eradicate the spirit of Tiff the town whore.

“Oh, there’s so much more I have to tell you,” Sue chirped. “Lots of gossip since you left.”

“I’d love to hear it,” Charlotte lied. “But first, I was thinking of taking a nap. I barely slept last night.”

“Excited to be home, huh?”

Uh, more like terrified. She’d been plagued with thoughts of Nate Bishop since the second she’d asked Georgia to book her the flight to Colorado.

Are you actually going to go through with it?

She ignored the disapproving voice in her head. Seemed like her conscience had been making unwelcome appearances ever since she’d decided to go ahead with this little seduction plan. It had sounded so much more appealing when she’d been drunk. Once the alcohol had worn off, though, common sense had settled in, but by then it had been too late—Georgia had already booked the room and flight. Canceling hadn’t been an option. Knowing Sue Anderson, the word of Charlotte’s impending arrival had spread within seconds of the booking, and Charlotte could only imagine the nasty things everyone would say about her if she didn’t show up.

“I’ll let you rest, then,” Sue said.

“Thanks, Sue.”

As the older woman left the room, Charlotte moved to the bed and sat down on the edge.
Was
she actually going to do this? Seduce Nate? She hadn’t seen him in years. What if she wasn’t even attracted to him anymore?

What if he wasn’t attracted to
her
?

She pictured Nate at eighteen. His thick hair, the color of dark, liquid chocolate. Those smoky gray eyes, a sparkling silver when he laughed, an overcast evening when he brooded. As a teenager he’d been tall and lanky but muscular, thanks to his position as tailback of the Paradise Panthers. He’d been the only bright spot in her miserable life. And when he kissed her…

Her toes curled involuntarily. She missed those kisses.

God, what was she doing? Just being back made her feel insecure and miserable, and it would only get worse once she was reunited with her former classmates.

Closure
.

Right, closure. She had to hold on to that. Nate Bishop had ruined her love life, and she wouldn’t be able to move on until she faced him again.

Lifting her chin, Charlotte stood up and went to her suitcase. She unzipped it, rummaged around for her makeup case, then marched toward the bathroom.

No backing out now. She’d come here to make Nate rue every word he’d hurled her way fifteen years ago. She
was
desirable. She
could
turn him on.

And he had better watch out.

Chapter Three

The circus was underway.

Charlotte had barely been at the reunion for twenty minutes, and already she wanted desperately to get the hell out of here. Girls she’d gone to high school with, girls who’d smirked and scowled at her, talked behind her back, spread rumors about her—suddenly they were all smiles. Sugary-sweet with their “Oh my God, Charlotte! You look
amazing
!” and their “I’m so happy you showed up! Everyone in town is
so
proud of your career!”

Bullshit. They weren’t proud. They were flat-out jealous, which she read from the snooty undertones in their gushing words.

Boys who claimed to have slept with her in high school had grown up into men who wanted to sleep with her now, whose leering smiles and “charming” innuendo made bile rise in her throat.

These people were so fake. She felt like shaking each and every one of them by the collar and saying, “You made my life miserable, you assholes!”

Instead, she put on a poised, casual front, making small talk, pretending she actually gave a damn about these people. At least the party itself wasn’t bad. Tiny silver lights had been strung from lampposts to create a sparkling, almost romantic ambiance. The dance floor was large and shiny, and several of her former classmates were dancing to the classy and lively songs played by the big band outfit the mayor had flown in from Denver.

Charlotte made her way toward the open bar where she ordered a glass of champagne then leaned against the long counter and watched the crowd.

At the sound of footsteps, she moved her head, only to experience an inward cringe as she found herself looking into Lexie Price’s ice-blue eyes.

“Charlotte,” Lexie greeted her. No smile this time, just tight lips and wariness.

“Lexie,” she returned, equally cool.

Lexie signaled the bartender and ordered white wine then turned and said, “I didn’t think you’d show.”

“And why is that?” Charlotte kept her tone utterly polite.

Lexie shrugged, causing her loose blonde hair to fall over one graceful shoulder. She wore a pale blue satin dress, silver ballet slippers, and no makeup save for some shiny pink lip-gloss. It irked Charlotte, how beautiful Lexie still was.

“You’ve got a busy life now,” Lexie said sweetly. “Fame, fortune, all that fun stuff.”

“I hear you’re doing well too. Editor in chief of the
Post
. Must be nice.”

“It is.”

The two women sipped their drinks. Lexie eyed her cautiously over the rim of her glass. Charlotte eyed her right back. The streak of animosity sliding back and forth between them was unmistakable.

And then, just as she’d expected, the claws came out.

“You shouldn’t have come back here,” Lexie said in a low voice.

Charlotte bristled. “Oh really? Last I checked, I was still born and raised here, just like you.”

“Your mother’s gone. Your house is gone. There’s nothing here for you anymore.”

Anger swirled around in the pit of her stomach. Of all the mean-spirited,
presumptuous
things—the anger suddenly faded into pure, unadulterated shock.

Nate Bishop had just appeared in the crowd.

Her surroundings dissolved in an abrupt swoosh. Lexie was gone, the music went silent, her former classmates disappeared.

All she saw was Nate.

Her breath jammed in her throat as she realized he was no longer the gorgeous teenager she remembered.

He was so much more.

His body had filled out, transforming from lanky to deliciously big. His casual black blazer stretched over a set of broad shoulders, the blue button-down beneath it doing nothing to hide the rippled muscles of his chest. His waist was trim, legs hugged by a pair of black trousers, and his hair was longer, dark strands falling onto a proud forehead and curling under his ears.

He was walking toward her.

Charlotte’s pulse took off in a frenzied gallop. Her gaze locked with a pair of familiar gray eyes. His face was as handsome as she remembered, save for a few new lines around his mouth and eyes, which only made him all the more distinguished.

The closer he got, the faster her heart pounded, and by the time he approached, she couldn’t hear a thing over the drumming in her ears.

“Charlotte.”

The husky voice she remembered so clearly seared right through the silky material of her dress and heated every inch of her skin.

She found her voice but it still came out raspy. “Nate.”

He shifted, looking big and awkward and so unbelievably sexy. “It’s been a long time.”

“Too long,” she murmured.

Silence fell over them. She was suddenly aware of Lexie beside her, of Lexie’s blue eyes slowly moving from Charlotte to Nate.

Across the square, the band changed its tempo, the singer belting out a slow Sinatra classic.

Charlotte took a breath and met Nate’s eyes. “Would you like to dance?”

Pure torture. Nate’s entire body was tight as a drum, his heartbeat hammering against his ribs as he drew Charlotte into his arms and finally laid his hands on the woman who had haunted him for more than a decade.

She was spectacular. Far more beautiful than those album covers and live concerts portrayed her to be. Charlotte in person was a fucking wet dream. His cock throbbed against his zipper just from the sight of her.