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

“She embarrassed you talking about Roman.”

Charlotte nodded. “Before we dance, do you want to make sure your mother’s okay?”

“No. You said it yourself. She couldn’t be in better hands than her doctor’s. So may I have this dance?”

He held out his hand. “You can whisper customer names in my ear.”

She laughed. “Why not?”

He swung her into his arms and onto the dance floor in time for a slow dance. It wasn’t the most orthodox place to discuss the panty thief. They bumped into many couples on the crowded floor, Pearl and Eldin included. The living-in-sin duo were slow dancing together, too slow in deference to Eldin’s bad back. Watching them, happy at their age, should have given Charlotte hope for her own future, but increased her longing for Roman instead.

“Customers, Charlotte,” Rick whispered, bringing them cheek to cheek.

“You’re one smart cop.” She laughed and whispered the needed information in his ear. He had his list of her customers at last.

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But the best part of the dance had to be the fact that dancing with Rick had done what Charlotte and her outfit could not. She finally had Roman’s attention. He was looking their way, a scowl on his handsome face.

If Roman strangled his brother, he’d burn in hell, but it might be worth the sacrifice just to get Rick’s hands off Charlotte’s bare back.

Roman clenched his fists at his sides, taking in her green leather pants and the handkerchief-style top that wrapped around her like a sarong and was tied in one knot in the back. One freaking knot that could open with the slightest breeze—or the nimblest fingers. Damn her for wearing an outfit that chic and suggestive anyway. This was a family event in town hall, not a New York City singles dance, for God’s sake.

“Yoo-hoo, Roman.” A feminine hand waved in front of his face. Terrie Whitehall. He’d forgotten he was deep in conversation about the rudeness of patrons to bank tellers. “What?” he asked, never taking his gaze from Charlotte and Rick. The traitor.

“I’m still not sure what I think of her,” Terrie said.

“What you think of who?” Roman had long ago perfected the art of repetition without truly paying attention.

“Charlotte Bronson. You’re staring at her, so who else would I be talking about?”

Caught in the act, Roman forced himself to refocus on the brunette looking at him as if he’d lost his mind.

“What about her?”

“She’s older than I am, mind you . . .”

“Just a year,” he reminded her.

“Well, she’s never done anything to me. Still, to come home and open up such a brazen shop . . .”

“I was under the impression most of the women, young and old, appreciated the cosmopolitan feel she’s brought to the town.”

“Some women, yes.”

But not the jealous, repressed ones, he thought, taking in Terrie’s severely pulled-back hair, spare makeup, and ruffled blouse buttoned up to her neck. What the hell had he been thinking, considering her for the mother of his child?

Roman knew darn well what he’d been thinking—that he’d find a woman the distinct opposite of Charlotte in looks. One who worked nine to five in a respectable job, who could provide him with the intelligent conversation he sought. Okay, so he’d found conversation. Some of it intelligent, most of it gossip, and too little of it savvy enough to hold his interest.

He’d also wanted to prove to himself that looks weren’t everything—and they weren’t, as long as the woman in question had a healthy respect for others, their occupations, and dress. This woman looked Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

down her nose at Charlotte’s choices. Scratch her off his list of wife candidates.

Along with the other half dozen women he’d spoken to or been cornered by tonight. After he’d left Charlotte in her shop, he’d gone home to take a long, cold shower and mentally distance himself from the one woman he wanted, so he could hit on the women he didn’t.

Backass logic, but then Roman figured this baby scheme was a backass plan to begin with. He looked across the room and spotted his mother. Raina was resting in a chair, deep in conversation with Eric Fallon, the family doctor. He hoped his mother hadn’t exerted herself by coming out to a party so soon after her trip to the hospital.

Someone ought to check on her and have a word with the doctor. He excused himself to Terrie. An idea in mind, Roman walked up to his brother and, without a word to Charlotte, grabbed Rick by the shoulder. “I think you ought to check on Mom. She looks kinda pale and she’s been sitting in one place most of the night.”

Rick inclined his head toward Roman. “Check her yourself. Can’t you see I’m busy?”

“She doesn’t listen to me. Because I’m not normally around, she thinks I’m fussing too much.” Which was true—as far as it went. Raina didn’t listen to anyone, all three of her sons included. But if it got his brother’s hands off Charlotte’s back and waist, Roman would consider the half-truth worth telling.

“Take a hike,” Rick shot back.

“I think Roman’s got a point.”

Charlotte’s soft voice hit Roman in the gut, but he ignored the burning sensation. “If you’re the one who Raina will level with, go make sure she’s okay,” she said to Rick.

“She’s sitting with her very own doctor, for Pete’s sake.”

Point to Rick, Roman thought and met Charlotte’s gaze. If she knew he wanted only to relieve her of his brother’s company, she wasn’t letting on. In fact, when she looked at him, her normally warm eyes were cold as ice.

He’d wanted her anger. On some level, he’d courted it intentionally so that he could more easily put her behind him and go on with his mission. But talking to the women in this town had left him empty inside.

And his feelings for Charlotte were as strong as ever.

How the hell could he find another woman to marry—and sleep with—when the only one he desired drew him back to her over and over again?

“Rick, please? If Roman’s worried, he obviously sees something worth checking on.”

When Rick didn’t move, Charlotte spoke. “Tell you what. You two talk. I’ll check on Raina.”

Before either brother could react, Charlotte disengaged herself from Rick’s grasp and sauntered over to the other side of the room, far away from either Chandler brother.

“You’re lame, pathetic, and obvious,” Rick muttered.

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“So are you. And it’s not like you’re interested in anything more than a good time, so keep your goddamn hands off. She deserves better.”

Rick studied his brother. “I like women’s company. All women, and there’s not one in this town who doesn’t know the score. They don’t get involved if they’re looking for more. I enjoy them, they enjoy me, and no one gets hurt.”

“Especially you?”

“Including me.” Rick shrugged, but the flicker of hurt flashed in his eyes.

Roman immediately regretted the pointed barb he’d shot his brother’s way. No one deserved to be used and hurt the way his middle brother had. Especially since he had everyone’s best interests in his heart at the expense of his own.

“Rick . . .”

“Forget it.” He brushed away Roman’s concern with his easy Chandler grin.

Roman groaned. He knew he’d overreacted. He wasn’t worried that Charlotte wanted anything more from Rick than a friendship. But rational knowledge didn’t mean Roman wanted to watch Rick’s too-friendly touches on Charlotte’s skin.