by Karen Booth
But first, she had to find a dress she could still fit into. Rifling through her closet, she knew on a purely practical level which one it would be—the red one. The one she’d bought a year ago at a designer sample sale. It had been a size too big, which was reason enough to buy it, as there was nothing more fun than stepping out of the dressing room in a fancy designer showroom and hearing the sales woman declare, “Oh, my! It’s much too big.” Charlotte had been having a skinny day that day. Probably because she’d recently recovered from a stomach virus. Regardless, the dress had been a steal, and she’d brought it home, but she’d never worn it. Now that she was a good five pounds heavier, it was the perfect choice.
She slipped her way into it and took a gander in the full-length mirror in her bedroom. The dress was professional. No ruffles, no thigh-high slit or plunging neckline. But it was off-the-shoulders, and the simple silhouette left nothing to the imagination. Of course, Michael needn’t search far in his memory to recall what Charlotte looked like naked, but the dress and the idea of him seeing her in it still made her nervous. She turned sideways in the mirror and smoothed her hand over the tiny pooch. That was a baby. Her baby. For now, if anyone asked, she’d simply say she’d hit the Christmas cookies and eggnog a bit early this year.
She glanced at the clock. It was already after eight. She believed in the notion of being fashionably late, but Michael was a stickler for punctuality. He wouldn’t take kindly if she pushed things too far. She popped in a pair of sparkly earrings, stepped into the bathroom to smooth out the bad eyeliner job and then went into her closet to work her way into the only red shoes she owned—sky-high and strappy. A month from now, she probably wouldn’t even be able to get her feet into these shoes and her center of gravity would be all kinds of wrong. She might as well milk tonight for all it was worth.
Charlotte arrived downstairs at the newly opened cellar bar by eight twenty. The room was absolutely buzzing with frenzied conversation, with cheerful holiday music as a softer counterpoint. Charlotte eased her way inside, scanning the crowd for Michael. This space was another of Sawyer’s many triumphs in bringing the Grand Legacy to its former glory. The ceiling’s soaring archways were clad in warm white mother-of-pearl tile, accented with narrow strips of black glass. The original wrought-iron chandeliers had been restored and were stunning when lit, tastefully decorated with fragrant swags of fresh pine garland and holly berries.
Off in the far corner, next to the bar, Michael was talking animatedly with another man of similar build and stature. Not many humans could claim such an impressive physical pedigree, and Charlotte was dying of curiosity to know who it was. She saw a few people she knew as she threaded a path for herself through the crowd. At least she’d have some people to talk to after she’d chatted with Michael. She didn’t want to take too much of his time tonight, although part of that strategy was entirely her own self-interest. Every minute with him made her more confused.
“There he is,” Charlotte said as she greeted Michael. “Our brave and fearless host.”
She loved the way the utterly charming smile broke effortlessly across his face. He was enjoying himself. For a man with the world at his feet, he didn’t seem to do that nearly enough. “Hello, Charlotte. It’s good to see you.” He put his arm around her and gave her a friendly squeeze. “Especially in that dress,” he muttered into her ear. “Wow.”
Charlotte was sure that people fifty feet away could feel the heat radiating from her face. Michael’s compliments did that to her. “Thank you for the invitation. I appreciate it.”
“Of course. I want you to meet my brother, Chris.”
Charlotte felt as though a lightbulb was going off over her head. “Oh! You’re Michael’s brother. No wonder you’re so freakishly tall and handsome.”
Chris’s grin and his laugh were almost exactly like Michael’s. He shook Charlotte’s hand, his fingers dwarfing hers. “It’s nice to meet you. I’ve heard a lot about you.”
Charlotte cast her sights up at Michael. “Whatever he said, it’s a lie.”
“Actually,” Chris said, “he had nothing but good things to say.”
Michael waved to someone in the crowd. “I think that’s my cue to leave you two alone. Plus, I have a potential client on the line here. I want to get a drink or two in him and see if I stand any chance of finding him a place to live.”
Chris leaned back against the bar. “He really did say a lot of nice things about you. Which is pretty surprising. He isn’t always that forthcoming with his love life.”
“But you know we’re not involved anymore, right?” Charlotte flagged the bartender and asked for her new usual—a club soda with lime.
Chris nodded. “He not only told me you broke up with him, I even got a phone call about it. Almost no women rank that highly with my brother. You should feel honored.”
“Somehow it feels like more of a dubious distinction. Plus, it’s not fair to say I broke up with him. It felt more like a set-up. He just made me do the dirty work.”
“Interesting. I suppose every story has more than one side, doesn’t it?”
“Yes, but my side is the right one.” Charlotte smiled wide. She liked Chris. She could see that although the brothers were notoriously competitive, they were close. “So, what brings you to the big city? You live in Washington, DC, right?”
“I do. I’ve been coming at this time every year for a while now. I like to lend my brother the moral support, even if he insists he doesn’t need it.”
“Moral support for what? Christmas?”
“No. It’s—” Chris stopped right in the middle of his sentence. His brows drew together in a look that Charlotte could only describe as dumbfounded. “Do you not know about this?”
The tone in Chris’s voice sent shivers down Charlotte’s spine. “I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about. Michael never talks about himself. I’m shocked I knew he had a brother in the first place. No offense, but he doesn’t talk about your family much at all. It’s mostly in the context of swimming and how much your childhood revolved around that.”
Chris cast his gaze in Michael’s direction. “I’m not really sure I should spill the beans. I mean, there has to be some reason he never told you. And I know it still bothers him. He and our father don’t even speak anymore because of it.”
Charlotte grasped Chris’s forearm. “Okay. You’re going to have to tell me something. I need to know that he didn’t murder someone.”
Chris shook his head and laughed quietly. “No. No murder. Just an engagement party that went horribly wrong and two parents who expect nothing but absolute perfection from their sons.”
“I’m all ears.”
As Chris told her the story and Charlotte peppered him with questions, it became abundantly clear that Michael, the guy with the bulletproof veneer, the guy who never loses or suffers, had done exactly that. When he’d retired from swimming, his parents were gravely disappointed. They wanted him to bring home more Olympic gold, but Michael wanted out. He’d been dating a senator’s daughter, and his parents decided that was his salvation. They told him he had to propose. He did, even though he didn’t love her. They’d thrown an extravagant engagement party, but Michael couldn’t go through with it. He’d been bullied enough. Michael called it off. At the party.
In front of two hundred guests Michael hardly cared about, his father flew into a rage. He unleashed a tirade of Michael’s faults, his failures and missteps. Michael couldn’t take it anymore. His dad threw a punch and missed. Michael countered and his fist landed square on his dad’s jaw. Everything after that spiraled down. There was no reconciliation. There was no forgiveness. Michael was an ungrateful disappointment and no longer welcome at home.
When Chris finished telling the story, he seemed so sad. There he was, stuck between his brother and his parents. And there was Michael, trying hi
s hardest, and coming up short. Charlotte thought her childhood had been rough, but it was nothing compared to Michael’s. And now that she had this giant chunk of new information, she had to wonder if she’d read Michael wrong all along.
* * *
Michael was keen to sign his potential new client, Alan Hayes, a hotshot tech whiz with very deep pockets, but he would’ve been lying if he’d said he wasn’t distracted by Charlotte and Chris’s conversation. It wasn’t a bad diversion. Charlotte was jaw-dropping in that dress. He’d never thought of himself as a red-dress sort of guy. He was a bigger fan of black with a healthy dose of skin—a look Charlotte also carried off with no problem. But tonight? The red? Michael knew he was in trouble the minute she walked into the room.
He liked seeing Charlotte and Chris clearly enjoying their time together. Michael was an expert at keeping his family and friends separate. He’d raised it to an art. As close as they were, he’d even been hesitant to invite Chris to tonight’s party. Normally when Chris came to town, they would go out to eat and catch a hockey or basketball game—anything that meant they could spend time together, but not get too mired in socializing. Nobody in Michael’s professional life knew about his private past and he intended to keep it that way. It wasn’t embarrassment. It was a topic he wanted dead and buried.
For that reason, he didn’t want to leave Charlotte and Chris alone for too long. He and Chris were alike in many ways, but with one exception. Chris loved to talk, especially after he’d had a drink or two. “Hey, Alan,” Michael said to his potential client. “Looks like you could use a refill on that Scotch. Why don’t we go up to the bar? I’ll introduce you to my brother and a good friend of mine.”
Alan seemed game. “Yeah. Sure.”
They made their way through the crowd. With every step closer to Charlotte and Chris, it became clear that their conversation was intense. Chris was talking a mile a minute. Charlotte’s face showed everything from concern to shock. Michael hoped to hell his brother hadn’t told her too much. He didn’t want her thinking of him that way.
“Hey, you two. I hope those aren’t long faces I’m seeing.”
Charlotte looked up at him with eyes that could only be described as soft and forgiving. Considering the number of times she’d given him a look that was quite the opposite, it was more than a bit of a surprise.
“What? Us? No way,” Charlotte replied, entirely too chipper. “Who’s your friend?”
Michael introduced Alan, still trying to sort out what had gone on between Chris and Charlotte. Perhaps he was just being paranoid. Some old rules he made for himself might just need to be cast aside. He loved his brother and he cared deeply for Charlotte. They should be acquainted.
Alan immediately took to Charlotte. Although Michael had to wonder if the dress had something to do with it, the truth was that she was simply on a roll these days, charming and entertaining, comfortable in her own skin. She could’ve sold a brick to a drowning man.
“Hey, Michael,” Alan began, “why should I hire you instead of Charlotte? If I want to move into a historic hotel, it seems like a no-brainer to buy from the woman whose family owns it.”
Michael shrugged. “Yeah. You got me there. I have no good argument for that.” He was surprised at himself. Normally he’d launch right into the long list of reasons he was a superior agent. If Gabe Underwood had been standing here, Michael would’ve gone for the jugular. But things were different with Charlotte. He’d figure out what to do about it, if anything, later.
Charlotte cast a quizzical look at him. “Excuse me, everyone. I think Michael must be very, very ill or quite possibly drunk.” She grasped his elbow and held the back of her hand to his forehead. Their gazes connected and he endured the usual zap of electricity that came with it. He suspected that her effect on him might never go away. “Nope. No fever. I’m afraid we’re going to have cut you off, mister. No more drinking until you’re ready to go to the mat with me on who’s the better real-estate agent.”
All Michael could think was that he did want to go to the mat with Charlotte—if it meant rolling around on a horizontal surface. She was so damn sexy it boggled the mind. She wasn’t second-guessing herself or trying to play off a compliment. She took everything as it came. Michael found her ability to roll with the punches irresistible.
“Personally, I think you two should work together,” Chris said, pointing at Michael and Charlotte. “You could be the ultimate power couple. Nothing would stop you two.”
“It didn’t exactly work out the first time,” Charlotte said.
Michael didn’t know how to respond. There was a voice inside his head that kept telling him to try again with Charlotte. The voice was especially insistent tonight. The trouble was that if things didn’t work out, untangling themselves as a couple would be far more complicated the second time. They lived in the same building now. She’d established herself in the same work circles. People loved to talk, especially about failed relationships.
“I think Charlotte and I might end up blowing up Manhattan if we worked together.”
“Or you could end up being the biggest thing that’s hit this town in a long time,” his brother said.
Charlotte perched on a bar stool and crossed her lovely legs. When he looked at her for a reaction to the conversation, she was stirring her drink and stabbing ice cubes with the straw.
The party rolled on for at least another hour, but eventually the guest count began to dwindle. Alan excused himself, saying he had another party to attend. Chris was tired and headed upstairs to Michael’s to crash. The bartender announced last call.
“I guess this is a wrap. Thanks for coming tonight.” Michael swallowed hard, looking at Charlotte, trying to decide whether or not to listen to his inner voice. “You were the best part of the party. By far. I’m glad you had a chance to meet Chris. You two really hit it off.”
Charlotte got up from her bar stool. He thought she was about to leave, but she instead took his hand. “We had a big talk. He told me a lot. Probably a lot of stuff that you didn’t want me to know. I know about your parents. I know about your dad and the engagement. He told me everything.”
So he’d been right. “I see.” He braced for her reaction. Would she think he was less of a man? Would she think he was a monster for hitting his own father? He sought their strongest connection and looked at her. It took more than courage to gaze into Charlotte’s eyes. It took reflection. Those big, beautiful blue eyes were like a mirror, showing Michael too much—everything he’d given up, everything he’d brushed aside, everything that had ever hurt him. It was sometimes torture to wade into these waters, but he had no choice now.
“I really wish you would’ve shared some of that with me, Michael. When we were together. It might have made things different between us.”
He watched as her eyes misted and all he could think was that he was a horrible person. Could he ever come close to matching the good in Charlotte? He had pushed her away because he’d convinced himself that one traumatic event would determine the course of his life. He just couldn’t own the failure, which was a defeat in itself.
“I know. You’re right. It’s just difficult for me to talk about. Still.”
She stepped closer and held on to both of his arms. “I seriously feel like I’m seeing you in a whole new light.”
“And?” He had to know how she saw him. He didn’t want to be weak, but somehow with her, he felt as though being vulnerable didn’t have to be ugly. It didn’t have to be a failing.
“It makes me want to take the hurt away.”
Relief rushed through him. He’d worried that the truth would make her want to run away. “I’m not at all opposed to the idea.”
She reached up and clasped her hands around his neck. Her fingers were soft, her touch warm. “I’m waiting for you to lean down so I can get to you. You’re in
a different atmosphere all the way up there.”
He smiled and bowed his head, wrapping his arms around her waist. He placed the smallest kiss on her lips, but knew he would get lost in Charlotte if it lasted another second. He pulled back his head.
“That’s it?” Charlotte jutted out her lower lip. He would’ve done anything to take a gentle nip.
“If we start something, I want to be alone with you. I don’t want to stop. I don’t want to have to think about anyone other than you.”
Her cheeks plumped up when she smiled. “Oh. Okay. Good answer.” She grabbed her evening bag from the bar. “Please tell me you don’t have to settle up with the bar.”
“No. They have my credit card. But I just remembered that my brother is upstairs in my apartment.”
She smoothed her hand over his jacket lapel, then traced her finger down the front of his shirt. That one touch made every muscle in his body twitch. “We’ll have to make do with my place.”
“Will Thor even let me through the front door?”
“Thor loves you. He just doesn’t know it yet.”
Michael took Charlotte’s hand, not caring who saw them like this. She might not have thought much of it, but it meant a lot to him. He was accustomed to being concerned with appearances at all times. His parents had trained him to think that way. He didn’t care about impropriety anymore, or what people might say. He didn’t care that everyone who worked in this hotel knew exactly who each of them was, or that they lived on the same floor upstairs. All he cared about right now was being with Charlotte.
They got the elevator to themselves and he didn’t waste a minute. He took her into his arms and kissed her the way he’d wanted to downstairs—with intent, to send a message that he wanted her so badly he couldn’t stand it. Scary or not, he wanted another chance. Her lips were impossibly soft and giving, her sweet smell the only air he cared to breathe.