The Bachelor (16 page)

“What did the paper say exactly?” she asked her friend. “Don’t leave anything out.”

Half an hour later, Charlotte had locked her doors, needing a break. In her possession, she had a new list of women who wanted
to purchase her panties, many of whom desired luring Roman Chandler into their homes.

“I’m going to be sick.” Charlotte lowered herself into the chair behind her desk. She left Beth out front, organizing and
straightening the store after the morning’s madness, while Charlotte made a copy of the list of names to give to the police.

Not only had they taken orders for the most expensive items in the store, but she’d sold things to the women while they waited—sachets
for inside the drawers, lingerie hangers, and other items of clothing. It was the most successful day she’d had since opening,
and it wasn’t yet noon. But instead of feeling satisfied, Charlotte was ill at ease.

She disliked earning money because of Roman’s bachelor reputation. Jealousy seared her heart as she thought of all the women
who’d mentioned his name in her shop today. She resented being slapped with the reminder of what and who he was: a wanderer
who loved women. And she’d agreed to be one of those women—until he left town. Charlotte shivered, yet nothing that had happened
this afternoon changed her mind about the course she and Roman had chosen.

She glanced at the paper Lisa had left behind and shook her head. Roman was many things, a bachelor and a wanderer included,
but he wasn’t a thief. And she didn’t believe for one minute he was behind the robberies. The idea was ridiculous and the
fact that grown women had bought into the suggestion floored her. They were building a fantasy concept around the entire idea.
Around him.

Charlotte understood the desire to do so, but she also knew better than most: Fantasies didn’t come true and reality was a
much harsher teacher.

Roman made certain to overexert himself with push-ups and a hard run before showering, getting dressed, and heading on over
to the
Gazette
offices. He was hoping to eliminate the driving urge to put a fist through his big brother’s even bigger mouth. As a reporter,
Roman respected the truth, but in this case, he figured there had to be a better way to deal with town gossip than giving
it more credence by putting the speculation in print. Damn people in this town had memories longer than an elephant’s.

He drove down First Street, car windows open, the fresh air waking him up and calming him down. He slowed as he passed Charlotte’s
Attic. A small crowd had gathered out front, which surprised him, considering she’d been worried about the thefts adversely
affecting her business.

He wanted to see her badly. Thanks to the morning’s paper and his new notoriety, Roman needed to steer clear of Charlotte’s
Attic. The home of the pilfered panties was the last place Roman Chandler needed to be seen.

He pulled his car to a stop at the traffic light at the edge of town. A gray sedan squeezed alongside. He glanced over as
the driver lowered the passenger window. Alice Magregor, Roman realized. Her hair no longer exploded upward, but was now puffed
out like a lion’s mane. Still, Roman summoned a friendly smile for Alice.

She reached down to the seat beside her, then lifted her hand and waved something in the air before honking twice and driving
away.

He blinked. As the light turned green, it dawned on him—Alice had just waved a pair of panties at him. She’d issued the ultimate
female challenge.
Come and get me, big boy.

Just as he came to the conclusion that he wanted only one woman, the single females of Yorkshire Falls decided to declare
open season. Roman let out a heavy sigh as he realized what was in store for him from the town’s feminine population. In his
younger days, he’d have appreciated the attention. Now he just wanted to be left alone.

Hell of a way to embark on his crusade to get Charlotte into his life, Roman thought, and experienced a renewed desire to
pummel his oldest brother. No doubt Alice’s actions had been inspired by the article in the
Gazette.
Though Roman knew Whitehall was a biased source, now everyone in town had been reminded of Roman’s prank over morning coffee.

Five minutes later, Roman parked in front of the
Gazette
and walked up the long driveway. He paused at the mailboxes, each marked with a different editorial department name. The
boxes weren’t overloaded yet, but the Local section had more than its share, thanks to the editor’s long days with his wife
and new baby. Roman grabbed the local information from the box, figuring a couple hours’ worth of writing would give Ty more
time with his family.

Roman told himself he was getting involved with
Gazette
business as a favor to an old friend. Lord knew Roman’s actions sure as hell weren’t motivated by the desire to aid his older
brother.

He walked inside. “Hi ya, Lucy.” He nodded to the receptionist, who was as much a fixture in this place as the foundation.
She’d worked first for his father and then for Chase. She had a way with people and the organizational skills no newspaperman
could live without.

“Hi, there, Roman.” She crooked a finger his way.

He came up beside her. “What’s up?”

She crooked her finger once more and he leaned closer. “What are you doing with the pairs you pilfer?” she asked in a whisper.
“You can tell me. Are you into cross-dressing now?” She winked and let loose a laugh.

He rolled his eyes, belatedly remembering she also had a wicked sense of humor. “That isn’t funny,” he muttered.

“If it’s any consolation, Chase didn’t want to print it—he just had no choice. Whitehall basically called his journalistic
integrity into question if he held back because you two were related.”

Roman shook his head. “Where is he, anyway?”

Lucy pointed thumbs upward. Roman stormed up the stairs and entered Chase’s office without knocking.

“Mind telling me what the hell you were thinking?” Roman slammed the morning paper onto his brother’s desk.

“’Bout what?”

Roman leaned forward in a threatening stance that had no effect on his big brother. Chase merely relaxed further. He rocked
backward, and the top of what was once their father’s leather chair touched the windowsill, blocking a view Roman knew by
heart. The pond and aging willow trees standing guard below were as much a part of him as this old Victorian house that was
and always had been the
Gazette
offices.

“You’re too smart to play dumb and I’m not in the mood for games. Any reason you had to use my name at all?” Roman asked Chase.

“I print the news. If I’d left out Whitehall’s quote, it would have been a glaring omission.”

“To who?”

“Anyone in town old man Whitehall talks to. I don’t want people around here thinking we play favorites or protect family members.”

“A past prank isn’t news.”

Chase shook his head. “As a reporter you know better.” He rocked the chair forward. “You couldn’t give a rat’s ass what people
think of you, so I can’t believe the article’s got you so bent out of shape. What really has you so pissed off anyway?” He
rose from his seat and walked over, his gaze never leaving Roman’s face.

“You go back to living with our mother and you won’t need to ask that question.”

“That’d drive you to drink, not want to put me through a wall. This has nothing to do with Mom. Come to think of it, you look
like hell. What’d you do? Dig ditches last night, instead of getting laid?”

“It wouldn’t have just been ‘getting laid,’” Roman responded without thinking.

“Come again?” Chase pushed Roman into the nearest chair, then slammed the door to his office closed. “Never know when Lucy’ll
get bored and wander up here,” he explained, then opened the cabinet in the corner.

Their father had always stored liquor in there and Chase hadn’t changed things that much. He splashed two glasses of scotch
and handed one to Roman. “Now talk.”

No matter that it was morning, Roman kicked back in the chair and downed the drink in one burning gulp. “I needed that. And
I don’t have a clue what you mean.”

Chase raised his gaze upward. “You’re pissed as hell that you lost the coin toss. You’re pissed your life has to do a one-eighty,
and because you think you owe me, you weren’t going to admit it.”

“Damn right.” There was no point in denying the obvious. Even if Charlotte made the prospect of marriage and children more
appealing, his life plans had changed since his return home, and not by freedom of choice.

“Don’t do it if you can’t live with it.” Chase braced his arms on the desk. “I told you that night, no one would blame you
if you backed out.”

“
I’d
blame me. Did I ever tell you how much I respect you for the decisions you made?”

“You don’t have to tell me. I know how many people you’re reaching with your news and your talent. And every time I read a
piece you wrote, every time you send clippings home, you show me what kind of man you are. And how much you appreciate everything
you have in your life.”

Roman glanced at Chase and shook his head. “I’m not talking about how much I appreciate life. We both know I do. I’m talking
about how much I respect you.” He stood and shoved his hands into his back pockets. “It wasn’t until I lost that coin toss
that I fully understood the sacrifice you made. You did it young and I respect you for it.”

“
Sacrifice
is too strong a word,” Chase said as he inclined his head.

Roman had embarrassed his brother and Roman knew it was as much of an acknowledgment of thanks as he’d get.

“Now tell me what Charlotte Bronson has to do with things,” Chase said.

Roman poured himself another drink. Because Chase had made tough choices in his lifetime, no one would understand better what
Roman was going through now than his big brother. “I love my life. The travel, the stories, informing people about important
things in the world.”

Chase shot him a wry smile. “Even when we were kids, I always related to you best. I saw myself in you.” He inhaled deeply.
“When Dad died, I knew my dreams had gone with him. But if I couldn’t be the one to travel, I was damn well going to make
sure you had the opportunities I didn’t.”

A swell of emotion rose in Roman’s throat. “I owe you for that.”

Chase waved away the words. “I didn’t do it so one day you could owe me. Payback is the last thing I want. If I still wanted
to travel, I could get on a damn plane now. My life is fine. So if you can’t do this thing and be satisfied,” he said, speaking
of the coin toss, “then don’t do it.”

“Hey, I have every intention of doing my duty, but damned if I can see myself tied to just any woman in this town. Not when
…”

“Not when there’s only one you want.”

Roman reached for the bottle again, then shoved the liquor away instead. “Exactly,” he said, facing Chase’s words head-on.

He pushed himself out of the chair and walked over to the window. He gazed out at the scenery that had always given his father
such great pleasure—he knew this because all three kids had taken turns sitting on their father’s lap as he typed in an article,
took ads on the phone, or just hung out with his children, all with this view behind him. Computers replaced the old Smith
Corona typewriters now, and the trees were larger, the roots buried deeper, but otherwise things hadn’t changed. Young as
he’d been when his father was still alive, Roman’s memories were vague. But they existed on the fringe of memory and gave
him comfort, even now.

“It’s obvious she’s interested in you too, so what’s the problem?”

Roman inhaled. “I don’t want to hurt her and everything about this coin toss and my plan reeks of her dad, Russell Bronson.”

“Damn.” Chase pinched the bridge of his nose.

“I’ll take that as an agreement.”

“So who’s in the running instead?” Chase asked.

Roman watched as a breeze blew through the branches on the not-yet-budding trees. Only the yellow forsythia and the newly
green grass added color to the setting below. As he stared down, a distant memory came into focus, of a family picnic he’d
had here, one planned by his mother in an attempt to get his workaholic father out for fresh air and time with the kids. He
could almost smell the chicken sandwiches his mom had made and hear his father’s voice as he coached Rick on how to hold a
bat while Raina pitched the ball.

When it came to his own child, Roman couldn’t imagine any woman other than Charlotte playing the role of wife and mother—but
neither could he picture himself settling down into the family role at the expense of the career he’d built and loved. But
a child
was
in his future. And he didn’t want to make that child with any woman other than Charlotte.

“No one else is in the running.”

Chase came up behind him and slapped him on the back. “Then I suggest you figure out a way to convince the lady she can accept
a long-distance marriage, little brother.”

Now, that was a challenge, Roman thought. Charlotte wasn’t ready to hear the words
marriage
or
babies
coming from his lips. Hell, he wasn’t sure he was ready to say them either. But he had to begin somewhere. “What’d you tell
me when I wanted to do my first interview and I chose the mayor?” He’d been sixteen and convinced he could take on the world
as a reporter.

“Start slow and learn as you go. Same words Dad told me. You impress me. I can’t believe those words penetrated that thick
skull of yours.” Chase grinned.

“You mean since I parked outside the mayor’s office until he’d answer my questions, instead of going to the president of the
PTA like you suggested?” Roman laughed at the memory.

“When it comes to Charlotte, I’m going to follow your old advice,” he said to Chase. “But don’t let it go to your head.”

Roman would start slow. Spending time and getting to know her again would be a pleasure. He didn’t have to worry about seduction.
The attraction handled itself whenever he and Charlotte were together. If things worked out, he’d have the career he loved,
and the woman he’d always wanted, not just in his bed, but in his life.