Unknown - [Carly Phillips] The Bachelor (The Chandler Brothe(Bookos.org) (1)

“Police business, unfortunately.” Rick’s mood suddenly sobered.

Charlotte didn’t like the intense sound of his voice. “Why don’t we sit?” She led them to the oversized velour Queen Anne–type chairs near the fitting room.

The two men overpowered the frilly, feminine decor. Her gaze settled on Roman. He epitomized the magnetic lure of the Chandler brothers, she thought. Every female felt his presence when he was in a room.

Though Roman remained standing, Rick sat, hands clasped between his legs, looking like a man with a secret.

“What’s going on?” she asked.

The brothers exchanged silent glances. Static broke through the quiet, Rick’s police radio calling for his attention. He shot Charlotte a regret-filled look. “Excuse me.” While he unhooked the two-way radio from his belt and discussed business, Roman’s piercing gaze never left hers.

Rick glanced up. “I’m sorry. A disturbance at the general store, and backup’s needed.”

Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

Charlotte waved him off. “You go.” And take your brother with you, she silently pleaded.

“Roman, can you fill her in? She needs to be aware of what’s going on.” Rick shattered her hopes.

Roman nodded. “My pleasure,” he said in that sexy voice.

She shivered with awareness. Blast the man for his effect on her, she thought, but by the time Rick took off, leaving Roman and Charlotte alone in the back of her store, she hoped she’d schooled her face into a polite mask of friendliness. With Beth off this morning and the lull in customers, there was no one to interrupt them, so she’d be safer if she pushed the attraction to the back burner. “If such a thing were possible,” she muttered.

“Is what possible?” Roman asked.

She shook her head, then swallowed hard. “Not a thing. Is this about the panty thief?”

Roman nodded. “It’s about your merchandise.” He leaned against the wall beside her.

“Which items?” Rick hadn’t given her specifics on his last visit.

Roman coughed once and flushed before answering. “Ladies’ panties.”

Charlotte grinned. “Well, I’ll be darned, there is a subject that can make a Chandler man blush.” His embarrassment let her see a more vulnerable side to Roman than his normal, confident demeanor. She was grateful for the privilege, and a traitorous part of her heart opened to him.

“I’m serious,” he said, unaware of the effect his embarrassment had on her.

She had to keep it that way.

“This guy’s apparently got a fetish of some sort.”

A fetish for panties. She shook her head wryly, then Roman’s words sank in. “You said this guy’s got a fetish. Why assume it’s a man? Do the police think it’s a man?”

“You’ll have to talk to Rick about that.”

She nodded, giving the matter more thought. “You do realize only a woman could wear the stolen property—without anyone noticing. Unless, of course, he’s a poorly endowed man.” She met his amused gaze and caught him laughing.

“Behave yourself, Charlotte.”

His grin filled her with warmth and curled her toes. Clichéd as the expression was, it was true. “So what brand of panties? I sell dozens.”

“Again, Rick’s got the details, but he mentioned the crocheted ones in the window. He said they’re handmade?”

By her. Her garments were exclusive, fashionable, personal, and not meant to become an object of Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

obsession or ridicule for a perverted man. She had her reasons for pursuing the hobby that had become a staple in her business. But Charlotte couldn’t imagine divulging personal secrets with Roman when distance seemed the safest route. Not when the details connected to those garments would lead to an emotional minefield.

Crocheting provided a window to her soul and discussion would reveal her deepest pain and disappointment. Because along with knitting, Charlotte had learned to crochet from her mother. They were skills Annie had developed as a means of escape, after Charlotte’s fame-seeking father had abandoned them when Charlotte was nine. Hollywood was waiting, he’d said one morning, and walked out, only to return at disparate intervals. His revolving-door habit had become a pattern in her life. It was a pattern Charlotte had always feared falling into with Roman, so strong was the magnetic pull he exerted over her.

He cleared his throat and Charlotte blinked. “I know the brand,” she said at last. “What can I do to help the police?”

“For now Rick just wants you more informed. I’m sure he’ll be in touch with what he needs.”

She nodded. As silence reigned, she sought a neutral topic. “How’s your mother?”

His features softened. “Hanging in. She’s allowed one activity outside the house a day, then she comes home to rest and keep off her feet. I feel better having seen her myself. Chase’s phone call scared me to death.”

Her heart reached out to him, the desire to help him past his fear and pain strong and overwhelming. But she couldn’t afford to connect with him any deeper than she already had. “When did you get into town?”

she asked.

“Early Saturday morning.”

And Raina had been rushed to Emergency late Friday night. Charlotte admired Roman’s fierce protective streak, one shared by all the brothers when it came to their beloved mother. Though a part of her longed for him to turn that caring her way, she knew even if he did, it couldn’t last.

He exhaled, then strode toward her. Powerful and sure, he came up beside her. Her heart beat more rapidly in her chest, her pulse picking up rhythm. His body heat encompassed her, along with a rush of warmth and emotion that surpassed mere desire. The man had hidden depths and an innate goodness that came with his family name. He could give her everything she desired except forever, she thought sadly.

He reached out and tipped up her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze. “Be careful. Let’s face it, Rick can’t say for certain whether this is a freak incident or if a fruitcake’s at large.”

A chill raced through her. “I’ll be fine.”

“I’ll make sure you are.” His husky voice was filled with the caring she’d desired and a lump rose to fill her throat.

“One last thing,” he said. “Rick wants to keep all this quiet. The cops don’t need a panicked town or rumors of a panty thief spreading like wildfire.”

“As if you can control gossip around here.” She pursed her lips. “But word won’t come from me.”

Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

She escorted him to the door, torn by the desire to have him stay and the logical need to see him gone.

He held her gaze one last time, then let the door shut behind him. Charlotte’s palms were damp, her pulse was racing—and the panty thief wasn’t the reason.

Heading back to the lavender panties she’d left on the counter, Charlotte recounted reality in her mind.

There couldn’t be two more different people on the face of the planet than she and Roman. He thrived on transience and challenge, she needed permanence and the comfort of routine. Even her brief stint in New York, as exciting as it had been, had been necessitated by fashion school and apprenticeship. She’d returned to Yorkshire Falls as soon as possible. Roman made it his life’s goal to stay away.

She’d broken up with him once because his excitement at leaving Yorkshire Falls behind had convinced her he’d provide her nothing but pain. Nothing he’d done in his life since had convinced her he’d changed. She gripped the panties, wishing with all her heart things between them could be different but accepting reality as only someone who lived it could.