The Bachelor (13 page)

But with that dream came the dreaded fear of being like the man she disdained, and Charlotte knew in her heart she’d never
dare make those kinds of trips herself. Never again take the chance on being disillusioned by bitter reality. Or of turning
selfish, like him.

Still, when she needed soothing, books like this one provided the distraction. She’d simply put her father and her past out
of her mind, and enjoy the fantasy of travel and seeing wonderful new places. She inhaled deeply and flipped through the pages,
but she wasn’t able to lose herself. Not tonight.

Just then, she heard a banging on her door. She rubbed her arms, realizing goose bumps had settled on her skin. The knock
sounded again and she headed back inside to see who could possibly be out there. Nearly midnight wasn’t appropriate calling
time by Yorkshire Falls standards.

She placed the book back on the table and walked to the door. “Who’s there?”

“Roman. Open up.”

Her stomach did an unsettling flip. “It’s late.” And she wasn’t in the mood for any more push and shove between them.

He banged on the door once more. “Come on, Charlotte. Give me five minutes.” His voice was a deep, seductive rumble.

She leaned against the door—even with plasterboard between them, her body flushed with heat. “Go away.”

“Not until we talk.”

“Come by the shop in the morning.” When Beth was around as a buffer, Charlotte thought.

His fist pounded the door in response.

“You’re going to wake the neighbors.”

“Then let me in.”

“I wish I could,” she said, too low for him to hear. No way could she allow him into her small apartment, where he’d overwhelm
her with his presence, his scent, his essence. She tipped her forehead against the cool plaster but found no relief from the
internal heat he inspired.

Silence descended from outside, and though it was what she’d told him she wanted and she ought to be relieved, Charlotte was
disappointed he’d given up so easily. She walked back to the table, but the book, which she’d found appealing before, now
just served as a reminder of pain. Suddenly a loud clatter reverberated from outside, the sound of heavy banging coming from
the fire escape stairs.

Obviously the man didn’t give up as easily as she’d thought. Her heart rate picked up rhythm and her pulse pounded in her
dry throat. She watched as Roman reached her terrace and ducked so he could wedge his big body through the window frame. He
entered her apartment and rose to his full height.

He was imposing no matter when she saw him, but in her small apartment, his size and magnetism were overwhelming. She swallowed
hard, wondering what he wanted—and if she’d have the strength to resist the tug-of-war he so enjoyed.

C
harlotte stood in her apartment, hands on her hips, and eyed Roman warily. He felt like a first-class shit—which he supposed
he was, considering all that had passed between them since his return, including his current uninvited entry into her apartment.

After leaving the dance, he’d hung around her building for the better part of the night. The longer she’d been gone, the wilder
his imagination had grown, until he’d been forced to face the fact that when it came to Charlotte, his emotions were out of
control. That she’d finally returned, alone, hadn’t made a bit of difference in calming him down. Though Rick respected brotherly
boundaries, Charlotte by no means belonged to Roman.

No matter how damn proprietary he felt, he had to let go. His pacing time tonight had given him the opportunity to think,
and Roman now knew exactly what he had to say to Charlotte. He just didn’t know how to begin.

“You’re strangely silent for a man who just broke into my apartment,” she said at last.

“I didn’t break in—”

“I didn’t let you in the front door, so what do you call barging in through the window?”

“Visiting.” Stalling. He ran a hand through his hair. “Obviously you’re not in the mood to talk to me, so how about you just
hear me out?”

She shrugged. “You’re here. The sooner you talk, the sooner you’ll leave.”

Now that he’d entered the inner sanctum, leaving was the last thing he desired. Her small apartment was frilly and feminine,
much like Charlotte. He took in the white walls, yellow trim, flowered furniture, and though he ought to feel out of place
surrounded by so much femininity, he was intrigued and aroused instead. The journalist in him wanted to dig deeper, learn
more. The man in him just wanted her.

Looking at her skimpy tank dress pumped more adrenaline through his veins. Though obviously meant for casual comfort, it was
completely sensual. The snow-white shade contrasted with her tousled black hair. For a color that symbolized innocence, the
white sheath conjured thoughts that were anything but pure.

But he wasn’t here to indulge in the sensual dance they did so well. He was here to explain himself and his feelings—something
Roman Chandler had never done before, certainly not to a woman. But Charlotte wasn’t just any woman. She never had been.

And she deserved to know his pulling back had nothing to do with his feelings for her and everything to do with their differences—and
the fact that he respected her needs. “I need to clear some things up.”

“What things?”

“You talked about the need to get me out of your system and vice versa.”

Her eyes opened wide, her vulnerability as apparent as the sexual tension humming between them. “You rejected that offer,
as I recall. You pushed me away, then ignored me in public and now you’re back, barging into my private space, wanting to
talk. You’re interested, you’re not interested, you’re interested again.” Her hands waved back and forth in time to her rapid-fire
talk and her quick pacing in front of him. “Do I look like a pull toy to you?”

Her question confirmed Rick’s claim and Roman’s fears, that he was hurting her with mixed signals, and for that he owed her
an explanation. But she didn’t give him a chance to respond.

“Or maybe that’s what you like—the chase. The forbidden. Maybe you’re one of those men who doesn’t want something once it’s
too easy.” She shook her head. “And damn but I made it easy.” Her face flushed crimson with the memory of what happened between
them in the dressing room of her store.

He caught her wrist on one of her walk-bys and held her in place until she met his gaze, her green eyes focused solely on
his.

“You think I don’t want you?” he bit out through clenched teeth.

“I haven’t seen any evidence to the contrary.”

Her words were the equivalent of a dare, arousing his baser instincts. All good intentions aside, she’d pushed him to the
edge and over. He stepped forward, backing her against the wall until their bodies aligned. No way could she miss the evidence
of his desire any more than he could ignore her distended nipples, pointy and hard against his chest. Without waiting for
a response, he bent his head for a kiss—a tongue-tangling, dueling kiss that was as mutual as it was hot.

Breaking the moment between them took all the resolve he had but he lifted his head. “How’s that for evidence?” He asked,
still breathing heavily.

She sucked in a heavy breath, then pushed herself back. “Okay, Roman. No more games.”

The last thing he intended was to play with her emotions, but every time she was near, his own feelings rampaged out of control,
causing him to act contrary to common sense.

“What do you want with me?” She rubbed her hands up and down her skin, as if she could cradle herself in warmth and comfort.

He let out a groan. “What I want and what I can take are two different things.” They’d finally gotten to the crux of the matter.
“I’m not staying in town,” he said, softer now, lowering his voice, speaking the one truth he knew would push her away. No
matter how much it hurt him to do it.

“I know.” She bit down on her lower lip, gnawing the plump skin between her teeth. “And I wish my father had been as honest
with my mother.”

Her words caught Roman off guard. He knew only what the rest of town knew—that Russell Bronson had breezed out of Yorkshire
Falls, abandoning his wife and young child. He returned at intermittent intervals, stayed for a while, only to take off again.
Roman also knew the abandonment caused both women much pain. Something he never wanted or intended to do.

He reached out and touched Charlotte’s cheek. “It’s not the same thing.”

“That’s because I’d know going in there’s no long-term commitment involved. Otherwise it’d be exactly the same.”

Her voice was husky and emotion-filled, reaching deep down and touching Roman’s heart. It had been a long time since anyone
or anything struck such an emotional chord inside him. Not since his father’s death and the early years of his mother’s grief,
and Roman instinctively rebelled against the welling feelings.

Unfortunately, the chord, once struck, reverberated with intensity and truth. And he didn’t like being lumped in a category
that held the town’s deadbeat dad and wandering husband, the man who’d hurt Charlotte badly.

“I’d never dishonor my commitments that way.” But as Roman spoke, he realized that was exactly what he’d planned to do.

Get married, impregnate his wife, and get out. Exactly what Charlotte’s father had done to her mother. Roman had just been
too self-absorbed by the life change ahead of him to consider what his actions would or could do to the woman he involved.

He shook his head, disgusted. Even if his motives were unselfish, for his mother’s good and not his own, his actions were
destined to hurt someone just the same. He swallowed a curse. Seen through Charlotte’s eyes, Charlotte’s past, his plans were
disgraceful.

But the family obligation and his mother’s need remained. Roman could only hope his same plan, as selfish as he now realized
it was, would be viewed differently by a woman who didn’t fear abandonment, who understood the way things had to be going
in, and who wanted a child but not necessarily the typical family scenario too. Charlotte wouldn’t understand or accept. Another
woman might. But if Roman didn’t get Charlotte out from under his skin as soon as possible, his promise to his brothers was
in jeopardy.

“I know you’re not sticking around,” she said. “I knew that when I … when I approached you. But getting you out of my system—that
has nothing to do with long-term. I don’t want a commitment from you. I wasn’t asking for one.”

“But you’d resent me in the end. It’s not in you to accept less, and I can’t give more. I’m not the kind of man you need.
The stay-around-forever kind of guy.” He shook his head. “Us getting involved would be foolish. And painful.” For both of
them. “No matter how much we wish otherwise.”

She inclined her head and her cheek came to rest in the palm of his hand. “I know you wouldn’t. Dishonor your commitments,
I mean. You Chandlers are too forthright.”

If she only knew, Roman thought. Charlotte must never ever know about the coin toss and the damn deal. “We’re the town’s most
upstanding citizens,” he said wryly.

“That’s why you’re here spilling your guts why you turned me down. It’s more than I once did for you,” she admitted softly.
“You’re a hell of a man, Roman. More than I ever gave you credit for.”

“Don’t make the mistake of painting me as a good guy,” he warned her.

She tipped her head back, looking at him through thick lashes. “I wouldn’t call you an angel, but you are looking out for
me. I appreciate that even if I don’t like what I’m hearing.” A regret-filled smile tilted her lips.

“I can’t say I like it either.” Any of it. Despite his words of warning and protest, Roman desperately wanted to kiss those
lips one last time. A final good-bye.

She must have read his mind, because she lifted up onto her tiptoes at the same time he lowered his mouth to hers. But a simple
kiss wasn’t enough to satisfy his craving and he held her face in his hands, cradling her for deeper access to her moist mouth.

It was meant to be a farewell kiss, strong and hot enough to fill a lifetime of memories. He slipped his hands around her
waist and began to bunch the material of her dress, pulling the soft cotton upward inch by inch until he could finally feel
the bare skin on her midriff.

His fingers gripped her soft, warm flesh, and as she let out a soft sigh, his heart thudded harder in his chest.

And all of a sudden he knew—he couldn’t say good-bye any more than he could choose another woman as his wife to bear his children.
Before he could process that thought, a loud knock sounded at the door, startling them both.

She jumped back and reality returned along with a banging that wouldn’t cease.

Roman expelled a frustrated groan. “Tell me you’re not expecting company.”

“I’m not.” She averted her eyes, unable to meet his gaze. “I wasn’t expecting you either, and there’s no one else who’d come
by this time of night without calling first.”

“Good.” He wasn’t in the mood to deal with other human beings. “Go away,” he called out and got one of her elbows in his ribs.

“I said I wasn’t expecting anyone, but it could be important.”

He let her go, shock still rippling through him at the conclusion he’d come to after that kiss.

“Open up, Roman. It’s the police.” Rick’s voice traveled to them.

Despite the somber mood that had settled between them, Charlotte failed to stifle a laugh and Roman wasn’t amused. Rick was
the last person he wanted to see. Especially when just the thought of his brother and Charlotte still managed to charge him
up.

As she walked to the door, she smoothed her wrinkled dress and ran a shaking hand through her messed hair. It was impossible
to hide what they’d been doing.

Nor did he want to. Her well-kissed lips branded her, and damn if Roman didn’t like it that way.

So much for good intentions. He’d barged in to apologize for sending out those mixed signals. He’d intended to say good-bye
and put an end to any illusions either of them held about each other. But with Charlotte, nothing was ever final or finished,
no matter how hard he tried.