Admiration shone in his eyes.
Hope filled her heart.
Now she watched the way his eyes lit up and the way his smile came easily as he told her another story about growing up. His voice, deep and husky, poured over her like rich honey. He moved his hands to describe yet another adventure and she took in every detail of his large palms and long fingers. What would those hands feel like on her? An ache deep inside her pulsed.
She longed to lean over and brush back his hair and trace the contours of his face. Then she wished she could taste his firm mouth. Softly at first, and then deeply. She shivered.
“Are you listening?” he asked with a smile in his voice.
“Yes, go on. I can’t wait to hear how you explained it all away to your grandmother.”
He chuckled. “It wasn’t easy. Looking back now, I’m sure I saw her lips twitch more than once. But,” he shrugged, “who wouldn’t want to laugh at how an eight-year-old boy could nearly destroy her entire china set?”
“By using them as Frisbees—”
“To feed the birds peanut butter and jelly sandwiches.”
She joined him in laughter as the vision took hold.
Moments later, his smile lingered and he sighed. Her heart hitched.
What was it about him, like no other man, that tugged at her?
Chapter 11
Hours later, Alex halted at her bedroom door.
“Thank you for a lovely evening.” Her soft voice tickled him in the semi-darkness of the hallway.
Only a few inches separated them. He inhaled deeply, savoring her tantalizing scent. Part Charlie, part flowers. Where did her fragrance end and the perfume begin? He wished he could discover that secret tonight. “Thank you for marrying me.” He meant it.
“So what do we do now?” she whispered.
Something tugged deep and low inside him. “A goodnight kiss?”
“You have the most brilliant ideas, Alex.”
“That’s why you married me,” he said.
“One of many reasons.”
He wondered what the other reasons were. Maybe someday she’d tell him.
“Are you going to kiss me?”
He chuckled. He brushed back a lock of her hair and cupped her face in his hands. “It would be my pleasure.”
Her eyes fluttered shut and her lips parted. He groaned softly. Alex lowered his head. Ever so gently, he teased her with a whisper of a kiss. This time she was the one to groan. Desire curled in his middle.
Alex deepened the kiss, parting her sweet, tender lips with his tongue. Hunger swept through his blood at her ready response.
In mid-kiss, he felt her hands at his waist, her fingers skimming the fabric of his shirt. The warmth of her skin burned through the thin barrier. Flames of liquid heat licked at him, urging him on.
But he held himself in check.
Moments later, he sensed her reluctance as he ended the embrace. Her shivery sigh-part pleasure, part disappointment- matched his increasing regret. Why in the world did he agree to wait? And what did she mean by courting her? She’d made it clear she wasn’t the least bit romantic.
Slowly, he stepped away, releasing her. He stuffed his hands in the pockets of his jeans. “Well, I guess this means goodnight.”
She bit her bottom lip. He watched with a mixture of lust and fascination. He dragged his gaze away from the tantalizing image.
He leaned forward and tenderly kissed her on her forehead. “Goodnight, Charlie.”
“Sweet dreams, Alex.”
Walking away, he sensed her stare. Alex willed himself to keep on going down the hallway and not turn back. A few steps more and he was at his door. Reaching out, he grasped the doorknob. He stilled for a moment. Clenching his teeth, he fought his conscience. Honor won.
Once in his room, Alex plopped down on the edge of his bed. He dropped his head into his hands. Berating himself for wanting what he couldn’t have, he nearly missed the soft tap at his door. He sucked in a breath.
He opened the door slowly. “Charlie?” Don’t tempt me any more than I already am.
She wrung her hands. “I was wondering, is it important to you, well, if someone gives you their word, would you expect them to keep it?”
He blinked a few times, frowning. “Yes.”
A heavy sigh rushed out of her. “I thought so. Goodnight.”
Alex shook his head. Gently, he closed the door. “Shower. Long. Cold. Now.” He tugged at the buttons on his shirt, undoing them swiftly. Just as he went to shrug it off, a hesitant knock came again. He froze. “No, please no.”
The sound seemed to resound in his head.
Gritting his teeth, he felt the muscle throbbing along his jaw. Alex answered the door.
This time her hands were folded together, fingers linked together as if in some sort of prayer. “I hate to bother you.”
“No bother,” he lied, smiling tightly.
Her gaze seemed to linger on the opening of his shirt. He inhaled sharply.
Charlie went on, “You know the question I just asked you? Well, I’ve got another one, sorta related.” She winced slightly. “Would you think less of someone if they gave their word, but changed their minds?”
He contemplated that for a short time. “Probably. Yes, I guess I would. Your word is your honor. Why?”
She waved a hand at him. “Oh, just asking.”
He watched her turn on her heel and walk away. He closed the door with a definite snap. Turning, he whipped off his shirt, flinging it on the bed. Making his way into the bathroom, he undid the snap and zipper on his jeans.
A knock, loud and strong, rent the air.
He groaned. “You have got to be kidding me.” Alex clenched his fists and clamped his eyes shut. “Go away, please, just go away.”
It came again, more confident than the last.
Alex marched to the door and then threw it open. “Charlie, I am not a saint, got it?”
In the next instant, she rushed to him, wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing him. All he could do was hold her. Stilling, she pulled away. “Alex, kiss me back.”
“I can’t. If I do, I won’t be able to stop.”
“I don’t want you to stop,” she said. Her eyes seemed to gather with moisture. “Alex, I’m sorry, but I’m taking my word back.”
“Your word?”
“Yes, you don’t have to court me first. You can do that later.”
Shock raced through him. He pulled back from her, searching her stare. “Are you sure, really sure about this?”
There was no hint of reluctance.
“I’ve never been more sure about anything in my life.”
***
Charlie could never pinpoint the exact moment she’d changed her mind. Maybe it had been somewhere between the wedding confession about the cards or simply talking to him late into the night over pizza and soda. She just knew the moment he ever so gently kissed her on the forehead and walked away that she longed for him. Deeply, achingly longed for Alexander Royale.
The physical appeal had been obvious even when she’d seen his picture in the papers. But, for every moment she’d spent with him, discovered a little bit more about him, she’d been slowly and steadily yearning for the man. Honor. Integrity. Compassion.
Now, with dawn streaking the sky outside, she snuggled into him. Her head rested on his shoulder and his arms wrapped around her. She sighed with contentment.
“Charlie,” he murmured, trailing his fingers along her bare arm.
She shivered. “Hmmmm?”
“Thank you.”
“For what?” she whispered.
“For taking your word back.”
She giggled. Moving so she faced him, she said softly, “My pleasure, husband.” She leaned down and brushed her lips against his. His groan rumbled through his chest, making heat coil within her. “But, remember, you still have to court me.”
He chuckled heartily, and then grabbed her in his arms and rolled h
er to her back. Charlie ran her hands over his biceps and to his shoulders.
Looking down at her, he said, “I think I can do that.” He trailed kisses along her jaw and down her neck. He nibbled at the sensitive spot at the base of her throat. “Like this?”
She sucked in a sharp breath. “Hmmm, yes. That’s a perfect place to begin with. Right there, Alex. Court away.”
Chapter 12
Charlie hummed as she draped the lush, ruby red fabric trimmed in gold over the back of the ornamental chair in the display window.
She felt the nudge on her arm.
“You’re mighty happy, honey,” Dolly pointed out, plumping up a matching pillow on the opposite chair. “I wonder why.”
“Dolly!” Charlie’s cheeks warmed instantly. She straightened, rubbing the small of her back. “I can’t go into details of my wedding night, even to you.”
The older woman winked and nodded her head. “I gotcha. Edward and I were betting on you and Mr. R.,” she cleared her throat, “gettin’ to know each other, close like.”
Her cheeks burned now. She plopped down in the chair and dropped her face into her hands. “This is so embarrassing. You and Edward betting on that!” A new thought had her snapping her head up and twisting to see Dolly settling back in the matching gold chair. “You didn’t hear anything, did you?”
Dolly slapped her hand on her thigh. “No such luck.” She leaned close and whispered loudly, “‘Cause me and Edward snuggled a little bit.”
“No way!”
“Way!”
“Why you, you—”
“Hussy?” Dolly giggled and her face turned pink. She shrugged self-consciously. “I can’t help myself around that man. What a hunk!”
Charlie cupped a hand over her mouth and chuckled.
Her friend tapped her on the arm. “He’s a great kisser. Oh my, the things he does!”
“Stop!” She covered her ears. “Don’t tell me. I’ll never be able to look at him again if you do.”
“And his hands,” she practically growled, “nice and firm, but not too strong, if you know what I mean.”
Charlie had visions of Alex running his palms over her skin. She shivered uncontrollably. “Quit,” she groaned.
“Why? You gonna rush home or something?” Dolly raised and lowered her brows.
“Something like that,” Charlie confessed. She eased all the way back in the chair and, with her foot, dragged the ottoman over. She and Dolly rested their feet on the footstool at the same time.
“That good, huh?”
“Better.”
They giggled.
“I guess all them stories ‘bout him were true then.”
“Yep.” She smiled. An ache throbbed to life somewhere deep and low. Charlie sighed.
There was a moment of silence as Charlie watched beyond the glass window and noted the usual slow, steady stream of Sunday foot traffic on the street. No one took notice of her and her friend redecorating one of King’s Department store windows. That seemed to be a problem. No one noticed because fewer and fewer people shopped at King’s.
“Hey,” Dolly said, dragging Charlie back to the moment, “you think Edward and Mr. R. talk about these kinda things?”
“Compare notes?”
“Yeah. I wonder what they say.”
“That we’re good, of course.”
Dolly burst out laughing. Charlie soon joined her.
A few minutes later, Charlie asked, “Do you think this will work, Dolly? I mean,” she waved a hand at the bogus deck of cards on the table between them, the mannequins eerily similar to her and Alex nearby waiting to be gently positioned in the chairs they occupied, “all this?” As she glanced over her shoulder at the bold-faced family name she’d contrived, she winced. “The Charmings?”
Her friend must have heard the nervous edge in her voice; she said, “Honey, all these people have been wondering about you and Mr. R. The papers, the reporters, the questions, all the juicy details. This is the perfect way to let them in on what’s going on. And get a whole lotta interest back in King’s.”
She bit her lip. Recalling the other display window they’d just finished nearly an hour ago, Charlie wondered what Alex’s reaction would be to an image of him proposing to her on the impression of the yacht she and Dolly had created.
Dolly tapped a finger on the deck of cards nestled on the table between them. “The first window’s a teaser. People are going to see that and rush to this one. Won’t they get a good chuckle over your engagement and the fake cards?”
She tried to smile, she really did, but a muscle near her lip twitched instead.
The idea for the displays had come to her as she showered that morning. Still dripping wet, she’d hurried to her sketch pad and, with a few quick strokes, had both drawings coming to life right before her very eyes. She’d had her friend involved shortly thereafter as they dreamed up fabrics and colors. Charlie had thought nothing of getting approval from her husband. He’d departed the house nearly an hour before.
Now, she realized she didn’t have license to broadcast his life. “But Alex?”
Dolly waved her off. “Oh, pooh! That man has had everyone and their brother dissecting him for years. He’s used to it. And why can’t his wife and her store get a little cashola from it? You know how much business this is going to drum up, honey?”
She imagined the revival of King’s and the increase in sales, especially among the younger female demographics. “Who wouldn’t want to buy into the fantasy of love, right?”
“Righto!”
Almost a half hour later, Charlie rearranged her mannequin, the last piece put into place. Stepping back, she tapped a finger to her lips. Then she snapped her fingers. “Ah hah! That’s it. She’s got the wrong shoes on. No one is going to buy yesterday’s pumps. I’ve got just the perfect pair in my office. Dolly, wait here, I’ll be back in a jiffy.”
“But—”
“Gotta rush,” she called back as she dashed through the unlit, empty store and to the elevator. In her stocking feet, she slid across the marble floor. She giggled, recalling how every Sunday when the store was closed, her father and she would kick off their shoes and compete on who could slide the farthest. Time and time again, he’d let her win.
She sighed at the heart-tugging memories as the doors silently closed and she rode up in the gold-mirrored compartment. Charlie closed her eyes and rubbed the back of her neck as more thoughts crowded her mind. She had to save this store for her father. He poured his heart and soul into every last detail, always putting the customer first on his list.
He’d often said, “Never forget, Charlie, people deserve to be treated with the utmost care. We at King’s are here to serve them. It’s a privilege. They work hard for their money and nothing but the best is good enough for them. Everyone’s included, from the man who digs ditches for a living to the richest woman in the world. We treat everyone with respect, kindness, and compassion.”
As the bell dinged and the doors whispered open, Charlie blinked back tears.
Her father knew what he’d been talking about. For a man who’d begun life with nothing, watching his parents toil away picking up garbage and cleaning houses, he’d never forgotten what it had been like to have others look down on him. Never had he done it to anyone else. Nor would Charlie.
Distracted, she made her way into King’s corporate offices and headed to hers. She thought she heard voices from the opposite direction. Her stepmother’s office? She shook her head, knowing her stepmother never worked on Sundays. The sound came again. Two distinct voices.
Charlie stilled. Slowly, she turned on her heel. With ever-increasing dread, she made her way past the vacant receptionist desk, the closed doors lining the way, and down the long, plush carpeted hallway. The double doors beyond her stepmother’s assistant’s desk stood open.
A tall male figure, with his back to her, came into view. Broad shouldered, dark hair, and rich deep voice, he evoked a deep tug of rec
ognition. She nearly tripped.
What was he doing here with her stepmother? Her middle dipped.
Her stepmother, standing behind her desk, wore her customary black suit and pinched-lipped expression. “Really?” “Yes, really, Mrs. King.”
“I won’t stand for this.”
“You’re the one trying to renege. More money?”
“Additional fees.”
Entering the room, Charlie remained unnoticed. She gulped.
“I’ll tell the press. First, I’ll tell Charlie.”
“She won’t believe you,” he baited.
“Believe what, Alex?” she asked, trying to keep the hurt from her voice. She failed miserably.
He turned quickly to her. For a moment, she glimpsed the shock in his eyes and the color drain from his face. But he recovered quickly. Soon he flashed a hesitant smile and jammed his hands in his pockets. “Charlie, what are you doing here?”
“Charlotte King,” her stepmother admonished, “how dare you sneak up on people. I’ll have you know this is a private conversation.”
For once, she didn’t counter with a funny comeback. Staring directly at her husband, she asked the questions tumbling through her mind. “Alex, what’s going on? Why would you be talking to my stepmother, of all people, on the day after our wedding? And what exactly won’t I believe?”
She watched him closely. He swallowed hard. Something clouded his eyes. “I can’t tell you.”
His softly delivered answer only fueled her curiosity more. Frowning, she turned to the woman stepping from behind the large desk, straightening her suit jacket. Dread pooled in Charlie’s middle. “Stepmother, what in the world is going on?”
Her stepmother raised a hand to smooth her always perfect hair into place. “Well, if you must know, I’ll tell you—”
If The Shoe Fits Page 7