“What’re you doing out here?” He stepped through the sliding-glass door onto the tiled floor of the terrace.
“I woke up,” she said with a shrug. “I checked on Jake, then it was such a nice night, I came out here to do some thinking.”
“Always dangerous when a clever woman starts thinking,” he said, walking toward her. He came up behind her, wrapped his arms around her middle and let her lean back into him.
Since the end of the threat against her, Charlie had been…thoughtful. She was sad about Henry’s death, but relieved that her son was safe. But there was more she wasn’t saying, Vance knew. And that bothered him more than he wanted to admit.
She laid her hands on his arms and her head against his chest. And Vance felt…complete.
“Want to tell me what you’ve been thinking about?”
Her fingers stroked the skin of his arms with a gentle touch. “That it’s time Jake and I went home.”
He took a breath and held it. He wasn’t even sure his heart was still beating. “Home? Why?”
She turned in his arms then and looked up at him, shaking her hair back from her face. “Because we don’t belong here, Vance. You’ve been wonderful. Helped us when we needed it. Helped me. But this was never supposed to be permanent, right?”
No, no one had said anything about permanent. But they hadn’t put a time limit on it, either. Frowning, he swallowed hard and instead of answering her question, asked one of his own. “What’s the rush? You’ve been happy here. Jake and I get along great—”
“You do,” she said wistfully. “But I have to go back to my life, Vance.” She took a moment and looked around the terrace, the view and even the sky above. “As beautiful as all of this is, it isn’t my home.”
“It could be.”
“Vance—”
“I’m just saying.” Hell, he didn’t know what he was saying. All he knew was that her talking about leaving had blown a hole through his insides. Even his heartbeat was ragged. “Stay a while, at least. Let’s enjoy each other without the threat of doom hanging over our heads.”
She smiled sadly. “That won’t change anything.”
“Why does it have to?” He let her go, took a step or two away, then turned back to face her again. “Do we have to classify this—whatever it is—between us? Why can’t we just go on the way we have been?”
“Because it’s not just me, Vance.” She didn’t sound angry. Just sad. “I have to think about Jake, too.”
“I am thinking about Jake,” he argued and didn’t care for the sound of desperation in his voice. “He’s happy here. He likes his room. He likes me.”
“Too much,” she said and those two words jabbed at him.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means he’s getting more aware every day. It means I heard him say ‘Dada’ this morning when you were feeding him his oatmeal.”
Yeah, Vance thought, remembering the little boy’s delight at mastering another word. Remembering also how happy he’d been when the boy reached out for him and said that word.
“If I don’t leave, he’ll start believing you are his father and then taking him away later will just hurt him that much more.”
“Why now?” Vance demanded, rubbing one hand against the ache that was dead center in his chest. “Why all of a sudden the talk of leaving?”
She pushed her hair back with one hand as the wind tossed it across her eyes. “It’s not all of a sudden. Ever since Henry…died, I’ve known I had to leave. You have, too, Vance. You just don’t want to admit it.”
“Ah,” he said tightly, “now you’re a mind reader.”
“Nothing so fabulous,” she countered. “But I recognize reality when it’s right in front of me.”
Vance’s brain was racing even as his heart seemed to be slowing down into a sluggish rhythm. She was wrong. He hadn’t even considered Charlie and Jake leaving. He’d gotten used to having them there. To tripping on the baby’s toys in the darkness. To the smell of oatmeal in the morning and, mostly, to the feel of Charlie, nestled in his arms every night.
He hadn’t been thinking beyond getting rid of the threat to her. Now he could see that freeing Charlie meant—freeing Charlie.
Without a reason to stay, of course she would want to take her son back to their apartment. So all of them could get back to their lives. No more watching baseball games with Jake on his lap. No more glasses of wine with Charlie before dinner. No more laughter. No more anything. He would have his privacy again. The quiet of an empty penthouse. He’d see Charlie at work and this—whatever it was—between them would eventually shrivel and die.
That was what should happen, wasn’t it? He’d never meant for any of this to last. He’d only begun this thing to save Waverly’s, right? He looked at her now and felt everything in him go cold and still. Life without her sounded bleak. How the hell was he supposed to give her up?
“Vance?”
Flowers scented the warm air. They were high enough above the city lights that the stars were clear in the black sky. And the moonlight—God, she was made for moonlight—poured down over her like magic.
He didn’t want to talk. Didn’t want to think. He wanted to feel what he only felt with Charlie. He wanted to lose himself in her. And wasn’t that a sort of answer to her question?
He crossed the terrace to her, grabbed her hard and pulled her tight against him.
“No more talking,” he muttered, “and no leaving. Not yet. Okay?”
Charlie looked up at him and nodded. “Not yet. Okay.”
A stay of execution was all he could think of before he claimed her mouth in a soul-searing kiss that left him staggered and hungry for all of her.
In seconds, he had the hem of her nightshirt lifted, scraping it up along her luscious body, and then off and over her head. Moonlight kissed her skin and then he was doing the same. Lavishing attention on every square inch of her body, he turned her, laid her down on the cushioned chaise nearby and in the darkness heard her gasp of pleasure. “Vance—”
As his mouth covered the very heart of her and he felt her tremble, he thought, This is what matters. Before shutting his mind down and reveling in the glory of Charlie, he told himself that what they shared together wasn’t just important. It was everything.
* * *
Ann Richardson presided over the board meeting at Waverly’s the following morning. Standing at the head of the conference table, she looked at each member of the board for a moment or two before finally settling her gaze on Vance.
“Thanks to Vance,” she said with a regal nod of her head, “we managed to stop at least one threat against Waverly’s.”
“Never could trust a Rothschild,” George muttered darkly and Veronica shushed him.
“Dalton’s issued a press release denying any knowledge of what Henry Boyle was up to,” Vance put in, giving George a quick look.
The old man snorted. “Dalton knows everything that goes on in his house. You can take that to the bank. Dalton’s got two assistants. Henry was one of ’em. You really believe that fool came up with this plan on his own? I don’t think so.”
“Neither do I,” Vance agreed. Dalton was no doubt behind the attempt at gaining information. But they’d have a hell of a time trying to prove it. He looked over at Ann, who nodded again. “I think all of us are on the same page there, George. But the bottom line is that Dalton’s denied it and the police have found nothing tying him to Henry’s plan.�
�
“Your assistant doesn’t know anything more?” Edwina’s voice sounded soft, concerned.
“No, she doesn’t,” Vance said. “She’s simply relieved that the threat is over.”
“As are we all,” Simon piped up from his seat, slapping one arthritic hand against the table for emphasis.
“The problem,” Ann put in, silencing everyone with her cool voice, “is that we can’t be sure the threat is over.” She waved away George’s objections before he could start speaking again. “Yes, of course, this particular incident is over. But that doesn’t mean that Dalton Rothschild will quit trying to take us down. We all have to remain alert. Aware of what’s going on in the house.” She looked at each of them in turn again. “We can’t trust anyone,” she said softly.
Vance knew she was right, but he was glad he and Charlie had already passed through their test of fire. He knew he could trust her with his life. Now if he could just bring himself to trust her with his heart…
“We have to stay together on this,” Ann was saying. “A team. To protect Waverly’s.”
“Of course, dear,” Veronica said, softly applauding Ann’s words. “You know you have our full support. Isn’t that right, George?”
The older man nodded grudgingly. “Yes, yes. We’re all a team. Rah, rah. Can we stop talking about Dalton Rothschild now? You’re giving me indigestion.”
Vance smothered a laugh and Ann rolled her eyes. “Very well,” she said, “if we’ve finished with the Rothschild portion of the meeting, I have an announcement to make.”
“Better news I hope, dear,” Edwina said.
“Much better.” Ann gave them all a wide smile. “You all know Macy Tarlington?”
George harrumphed. “Knew her mother,” he said with a knowing wink. “Tina Tarlington. Now that was a woman. Hell of an actress, too.”
“Her daughter hasn’t done as well, has she?” Veronica asked no one in particular.
“Hell, no,” George said. “Not a shadow of Tina.”
Tina Tarlington had been a rare beauty who’d died recently at the relatively young age of sixty-two. Famous all over the world, Tina was as much known for her three marriages and her collection of diamonds as she was for her acting skills.
Vance gave Ann a shrewd look. “You got it?”
“I got it,” she said and practically crowed with delight. Then, to the rest of the board, she said, “I’ve convinced Macy Tarlington, after much wining and dining, to allow Waverly’s to conduct her late mother’s estate sale. Tina’s jewelry collection alone will make the sale a not-to-be-missed event.”
Vance only half listened to the congratulations and the rife speculation on what might be included in Tina’s collection of mementos. Smiling to himself, he took his first easy breath in a couple of weeks.
The threat to Charlie was gone. It looked like Waverly’s was going to be safe and retain its well-earned reputation. The only thing left to do, he thought, was decide what he wanted and then to go after it. Charlie’s face swam up into his mind and everything in him jolted with excitement. Just thinking about her had his pulse pounding and his body tightening. She was what he needed. What he had always needed.
The answer was so simple. His heart had known from the beginning. It was only his brain that had refused to see the truth.
He loved Charlie Potter.
And he was never letting her go.
* * *
Charlie waited outside the boardroom for Vance to be free. She had a sheaf of papers requiring his signature and Justin had been haranguing her on the phone about them for the past half hour. Once Vance had signed them, she’d take them downstairs so Justin’s heart palpitations could stop.
Standing against the wall, she shifted from one foot to the other, uncomfortable standing too long in the high heels Vance liked so much. She smiled to herself as she remembered their first time making love when he’d insisted that she never get rid of them.
Silly, she knew. But he made her happy. Enough that she was postponing the inevitable by staying with him a few more days. She didn’t want to leave, but what choice did she have? She couldn’t love a man who didn’t love her back. There was no future in that. For any of them.
Her head tipped back against the wall and she stared up at the ceiling. How would she ever live without him? How could she continue to work for him knowing that what they had shared so briefly was over? She wouldn’t be able to and she knew it. The only sane thing to do would be to quit her job.
Then she would have lost everything.
Frowning now, she straightened up when the boardroom door opened. She heard George Cromwell speaking, his gruff voice unmistakable.
“That was a good job you did, Vance. Catching the blackmailer.”
“Yeah, thanks. I’m glad it worked out.”
Her stomach dipped and rolled in reaction to Vance’s voice, and she nearly sighed at the hopeless case she’d become.
“I heard the rumors about you and that cute assistant of yours. Clever of you, romancing her so you could get to the bottom of it so fast.”
Vance stepped out of the boardroom and saw her. He stopped dead and though he didn’t say anything, guilt was stamped so cleanly on his features, he didn’t have to speak.
Charlie felt as though she’d been slapped. Was that all she had been? A tool used to capture Henry? Had none of it been true? Ever? Reeling from the implications of George’s statement, and the fact that Vance hadn’t denied it, she hurried down the hall, away from the boardroom, away from the man shouting her name.
“What the—” George muttered as Vance took off after her at a dead run.
Charlie beat him to the office and turned to slam the door on him, but Vance was too quick. He slapped one hand against the door and hit it hard enough that it smacked against the wall.
“Don’t you even speak to me,” she warned, and threw the papers needing his signature at him. They fluttered like oversize snowflakes to the floor.
Hurt, humiliation and good old-fashioned temper were steering her course now. She felt as if she were going to explode from the pressure building inside.
“Charlie, dammit,” he said, slamming the door closed so no one could overhear them, “hear me out at least.”
“No. There’s nothing you can say to me now that I want to hear. That’s it. I quit.” And to think only moments ago, she’d been dreading that decision. Now there was no other choice.
She hurried across the room to her desk and bent down to yank open the bottom drawer. She grabbed her purse, kicked the drawer shut and stood up.
He was right in front of her. His dark hair falling over his forehead. His brown eyes, with those gold flecks, were churning with emotion and his jaw was so tight, she saw the muscles there twitching.
“No way are you quitting.”
“You can’t stop me.”
“Watch me.” He grabbed her and held her in place, though she squirmed and wriggled and tried to break free. Finally, in desperation, Charlie drew her right foot back and kicked him in the shins.
He yelped, and that was satisfying, but he didn’t let her go, and that was infuriating.
“Dammit, will you just hold still for a second and listen to me?”
“Why should I?” she shouted. “I heard what George said to you and more importantly what you didn’t say back.”
“I didn’t have a chance to say anything. I saw you there and then you were running—”
He didn’t say anything, but the flicker of regret on his features said plenty.
Pain lanced through her. “I wondered, you know, why you were being nice to me. Remember, I even asked you. You didn’t answer me, but then how could you?” She shook her head in disgust. “Not easy to say, ‘I’m seducing your secrets out of you, Charlie—that okay with you?’”
“All right, fine,” he grumbled. “That was how it started. I think. Hell, I don’t even know for sure anymore.”
“Right.”
“I’m telling you the truth, Charlie.” He let her go, shoved both hands through his hair and said, “Ever since you walked in here, I haven’t been able to think straight. At first I thought it was your hair distracting me. Or maybe those damn shoes.” He shook his head again as if trying to understand all this himself.
“But it wasn’t any one thing at all. It was just you, Charlie. Your laughter. Your eagerness to learn. Your love of…everything.” He choked out a laugh. “You sneaked up on me. And yeah, I thought it would be a good idea, to take you out a couple times, romance you a little. See if I could figure out if you were a spy or not.”
“Romance me. At the Zoo Diner?”
“See?” He threw both hands high and let them drop to his sides again. His expression was baffled. “See what you do to me? I sat in the middle of that toddler hell and actually had a good time. I didn’t expect that. Didn’t expect you. What you did to me. How you made me feel. How you made everything better.”
Charlie wished she could believe him, but how could she? How could she ever trust him again? She felt the sting of tears in her eyes, but blinked them back. “You were using me. Just as Henry did.”
“No,” he said firmly.
“Yes,” she said. “But I’m done being used. By you. By anyone. I quit, Mr. Waverly. I’ll be by this weekend to pick up Jake’s and my things.”
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