“Is it, Charlotte?” he asked, his voice quiet. Then he cleared his throat. “I’ve thought of you so many times.”
Then why didn’t you ever try to see me? Contact me? “How kind of you to say so.”
A pained expression crossed his face. “I’m serious, Charlotte. Maybe today we could—”
“There you are!” Another man’s voice boomed through the lobby.
Charlotte’s stomach clenched, but she spun, pasting on a welcoming smile. At this moment she was glad for an interruption, even if it meant facing Luke before she was quite ready. “I was on a coffee safari.” She held out her hand to him. “Have you met Audrey’s father?”
His fingers twined with hers. She flashed back to the first moments of wakefulness, when they’d been wrapped around each other. Her common sense told her to pull back, pull away, but Luke tightened his hold and leaned down to kiss her cheek. Then he swept her hair off her shoulder, his mouth finding that little hickey he’d left behind on her neck. He dropped a second, gentle kiss there.
She shot him a look. He reciprocated with a shameless grin. “Morning, angel,” he said, his voice soft. Then he turned to Peter, extending his free hand to shake the other man’s. “I haven’t had the opportunity as yet. I’m Luke Harper, Connor’s older brother.”
“You’ve been overseas,” Peter said, with a smile. “You were doing engineering work?”
“When he wasn’t playing tennis,” Charlotte said dryly.
Luke slid his arm around her waist. “And pining after this girl. We were separated for much, much too long.”
Peter glanced at Charlotte. “I could say the same. I haven’t seen her since she was a coltish eighteen. She’s grown into an extraordinarily beautiful young woman.”
“That’s right,” Luke said. “You were married to her mother for a time.”
“When Audrey and Charlotte were high schoolers.” Peter looked away. “Charlotte’s mother is another extraordinary beauty.”
“I wouldn’t know,” Luke said. “Charlotte is very stingy with her family.” Then he snuggled her closer to his hip. “But that’s going to change, right, honey?”
She was going to have to change to survive this. With Luke so near, she could feel her nerve endings lighting up like sparklers. Last night was supposed to be scratching an itch or maybe putting a period on an old romance. Instead, she wanted to lean into him, imprinting herself on his skin.
But the possibility of starting up with Luke again was such a bad idea that it made her head ache. On the pretext of refilling her coffee cup, she moved toward the carafes and out of Luke’s reach. “Would either of you like a cup?” she asked.
The man with whom she’d spent the night was giving her a look that said he’d noticed her retreat. “Black, please,” he answered, then shifted his gaze to the other man. “So, tell me, Peter, what was our Charlotte like as a teenager?”
“He couldn’t possibly remember,” she protested. Rehashing any moment of those four years when she’d thought she finally had both a mother and a father wasn’t the path to calm. The tension churning in her belly was testament to that.
She handed Luke his coffee. “ ‘Our’ Charlotte doesn’t quite describe the relationship. Peter never considered me his.”
The older man winced, and she regretted the remark instantly. It had been her intention to clarify, not cut. She inspected the lid of her cup. “However, he went to every one of my basketball games.”
“I still have all the Beacon issues from your senior year, too,” he said.
Astonished, her head came up. “The high school literary magazine?”
Peter nodded, then looked at Luke. “She was the editor. It won two national awards.”
Charlotte felt her face go hot. She wouldn’t have bet Peter would remember that—let alone have saved the magazines! “I ...” Maybe for the first time in her life, words failed her. Helpless, she found herself glancing around at Luke, a sudden sting of tears in her eyes.
He brushed a palm down the back of her hair, then kept his fingers tangled in the ends. “Yeah, but could she hit a three-pointer?”
It was the exact right thing to say. Peter laughed, and launched into the retelling of a league championship game. That he’d remember a sporting event didn’t seem so earthshaking to Charlotte. In her experience, men had memories for random athletic moments. She’d dated a guy who could describe the 2007 Stanley Cup championship game blow-by-blow, despite the fact that he’d never played hockey, let alone worn a pair of ice skates.
Charlotte’s tension eased a little more. Though Luke’s warmth was at her back and his fingers were still twined in her hair, she found both more comforting than frightening. And maybe it should scare her, but his touch was centering her, steadying her after the rocking and rolling brought on by this unexpected meeting with Peter.
She was even managing to hold on to her cool.
“You want to see pictures?” Peter asked.
Pictures?
“Sure.” Luke grinned. “Is she in braces and zit cream?”
Charlotte could only stare as Peter, the man she’d once called “Dad,” reached for his wallet. Inside, he flipped past a couple of shots of Audrey to display face-to-face images of herself, circa ages seventeen and eighteen. In the first, she wore her basketball uniform. She had her hair in a high ponytail tied up with a blue-and-white ribbon—the school colors. In the other, she was holding up one of the magazine awards. Beside her stood an obviously proud Peter.
The men’s voices receded as she gazed on the images of her younger, less cynical self. Audrey had been a pain in the ass in the way a same-age, different-interests sibling could be. But Charlotte had suffered her gladly for the paradise of two parents. Of having a father figure in her life whom she thought really cared about her.
Poor kid, with those big smiles on the verge of shattering. Just a short few months away from finally learning the hard lesson that men wouldn’t stay. That she couldn’t count on love, only herself.
“Honey? Sweetheart?” Luke tugged on her hair.
She started. “What?”
“Peter asked you a question.”
The man who’d once been married to her mother gave her a little smile. “I was hoping you’d let me take you to lunch today. Just the two of us.”
Charlotte blinked. “I ... I don’t think so.” She didn’t want any further reminders of her hopeful adolescent years.
“Sweetheart—” Luke started.
She clutched the side of his shirt, panicking again. “We—Luke and I—have plans. All-day plans. We’ve been apart for a long time, you see, and want to ... to spend every moment together.” Entangled. Inside her head, she groaned, but the words were already out there.
Okay, but at least she’d hung on to her cool, right? She sent Peter another of her businessperson-to-client smiles. “You understand?”
“I suppose I do.” Peter folded his wallet, but stared down at it instead of putting it away. “But, Charlie—”
“Don’t call me that!” Charlotte’s voice was harsh, her feet already in retreat. “Don’t ever use that name.” It was a knee-jerk reaction she was helpless to prevent. But she didn’t care that her cool had evaporated. She only cared about getting far, far away.
“I feel ridiculous and I’m not the one draped in toilet paper,” Luke said to the unlucky groomsman who had drawn the short straw. He attached strips of the paper squares to the tiara another of the guys had fashioned from twists of yet more TP. He stood back, eyeing the effect. “What do you think, Con? Does that look like a wedding veil?”
His brother grinned. “It looks like I owe Derrik a keg of beer.”
“Yeah,” the faux-bride grumbled, batting at the paper the breeze blew into his eyes. “Because when I good-naturedly said I’d participate in some games, I thought we were talking about pool volleyball.”
“I had something like that in mind myself,” Luke said, glancing across the deck where the women were simi
larly dressing up one of the bridesmaids. Whatever they played, he’d planned on being teamed with Charlotte. It was imperative he stick close enough to find out what was going on inside her head. The sex had been spectacular the night before, and he’d have liked nothing more than waking up to more of it, but she’d run off while he was still sleeping.
Then he’d tracked her down and she’d looked uncomfortable and embarrassed—even before she’d caught sight of him. Peter Langford seemed like a nice enough guy, but he’d put Charlotte on edge.
Luke glanced at her again, noting she had retreated to a lounge chair and was hiding behind her sunglasses and wide-brimmed hat. He drew his brother away from the other men and lowered his voice. “What do you know about your future father-in-law’s marriage to Charlotte’s mom?”
“I think its failure was a big disappointment to him. Audrey is pretty close mouthed about it, but I get the feeling that she wanted it to work, as well. Her mother died when she was very small and she doesn’t remember her—I think she was hoping she’d finally have one again.”
“Is that what happened to Charlotte’s dad? Did he die?”
Con shrugged. “You’re asking me? You’re the one in love with the woman. Why don’t you know?”
Luke opened his mouth, then shut it. Why didn’t he know? He’d said that Charlotte had been stingy about her family, but he’d never pressed her, had he? That distance he’d allowed had kept her distant.
It was time to remedy that, he decided. He was going to make her talk. It was the only way, he figured, to bridge the gap that she kept putting between them.
It looked good for him in the next few minutes. Voting took place on which bride was more beautiful, Derrik with his goatee and elbow-length “veil,” or his opponent, who actually knew how to walk in a dress. When they proceeded down the “aisle”—a path around the pool—amid some snickers and several guffaws, at the halfway point Derrik was left in only his tiara and his tattered shorts.
Connie, the bridesmaid, won the prize—tickets to an upcoming Dodgers baseball match-up—which only made Derrik a sorer loser. Over his grousing, Audrey also announced that the other woman would choose the next game, and it would be one that pitted couple against couple.
With Charlotte his designated partner in the upcoming event, Luke approached her, a mimosa in each hand. He passed over a glass, then wedged his hips onto the cushion of her lounge chair. She hesitated a moment, then shifted her long golden legs a little to the side.
He trailed his cold fingers down her shin, smiling as she twitched. “Ticklish?”
“Mmm.”
He couldn’t read her expression behind her dark glasses. “I enjoyed last night,” he said, his voice quiet. “You’re amazing, especially when you—”
“Do we have to discuss it?” she asked in a rushed whisper.
He grinned at her obvious fluster. “I guess not.”
“Good.” She set her big hat and her champagne and orange juice on the square table to her right and leaned her head against the cushion, a woman on the verge of napping.
He clasped her thigh, right above her knee. “We could talk about the more distant past instead.”
The muscle in her leg tightened in his hand. “Why?”
“I’m just curious. Before ... I didn’t press you to tell me things.”
“One of your stellar qualities.”
Stubborn woman! “Is it so intrusive of me to want to know some basics?”
She resorted to the one-word response again. “Why?”
He might have wrung her neck if the start of the next game wasn’t announced at that moment. They were forced to gather poolside with the other couples. The rules were simple and the reaction a mix of groans and ribald comments. The competition would occur simultaneously. Each partner would hold their hands behind their backs. The male half would have a cellophane-covered package of mini powdered donuts in his mouth. It was up to the female half to unwrap the treat and down each little circle without dropping one and without the aid of any fingers. The winners were whoever finished first.
They’d recruited the woman who worked the front desk to call “Time!” and then the game was on. It was clear right off the bat that Charlotte’s height put them at an advantage. Once she lifted on tiptoe, she was at a level to attack the cellophane with her teeth. She started to make headway, but then broke away, laughing.
“I’m sorry,” she wheezed out. “But you’re looking at me cross-eyed!”
With his mouth full of mini-donuts, he couldn’t do more than grunt. So he tried getting his message across by stepping up to her. Let’s win this.
Hey, he was a big baseball fan and there might be more Dodgers tickets at stake.
She dutifully attacked the cellophane again, then had to take another break for laughter. He uncrossed and then rolled his eyes, stepping close to her again.
“Okay, okay,” she said, and went after the plastic with gusto. Around them, several other players had already left the competition, disqualified for dropping donuts or forgetting and reaching with a hand.
Audrey and Con were still in, though, and despite their size difference making headway. The bride-to-be was already swallowing one treat, but then hesitated before taking another as she worried about putting on weight. “In six weeks I have to squeeze into a size zero wedding dress!”
Charlotte sent the other woman a scathing sidelong look, then redoubled her efforts. Clearly she wanted to best her ex-stepsister. In seconds she was chewing, powdered sugar all over her lips.
Luke considered spitting out the rest of the package, just so he could lick the sweetness off her luscious mouth. But she gestured to him with a hand, then placed it once again behind her back. Dutifully crowding her, he presented the open packet.
He realized the game was downright evil when she attempted to suck the next treat out of the plastic. It set Charlotte off again and she had to break away to recover from her giggles. “You should see your face,” she said, holding one hand over her belly.
He took a deep breath through his nose. Hopefully she wouldn’t look below his waist. Eyeing the competition, Luke knew they had to get a move on or give up on seeing the Dodgers kill the San Diego Padres. Stepping close, he shoved the packet toward her mouth, nudging her lips.
It set her laughing again. She swayed back, losing her balance. Her foot moved to stabilize herself, but it only found air. They’d moved too close to the edge of the pool! Luke reached to save her, his fingers closing around her wrist. But the die was already cast. She was going over and if he didn’t let her, he’d be in, too. He loosened his grip and she completed her backward tip into the water.
She came up, sputtering, as applause broke out. Another couple had won the game. Sure enough, baseball tickets.
Luke grumbled about it as he helped Charlotte up the pool steps. She appeared very wet and only somewhat contrite. “Okay, okay, I owe you one,” she said, as she twisted her hair to wring the water out of it.
He dropped a beach towel over her head and drew her down to share one of the chaises with him. “Then tell me something about your family situation,” he said. “You know mine. Mother, father, Con.”
“You grew up with two dogs and a cat. Summer vacations at national parks.”
It did sound idyllic, put like that. And her tone was a great big hint that her childhood was not so picture-postcard. “You have any pets as a kid?” he asked.
“My mother collects husbands, not animals.”
Luke tilted his head, waited for more. Charlotte let out a sigh. “Fine. My mom and dad divorced when I was two. Then there was Mark. He was around until I was eight. You’ve met Peter. After that it was Gus. Now she has Vincent. They live in Florida near his kids.”
“Ah.” So Charlotte was left on this side of the country all by herself. Or was she? “You see your father very often?”
Her gaze cut from his. She busied herself by drying off her sunglasses, which had gone in the pool with her. “
Nope. Haven’t a clue where he is. He was the first to leave—and the first never to return.”
She said it matter-of-factly, but the implication made Luke ache for her. Her dad had walked out of her life, followed by man after man after man ... including him. Yeah, she’d pushed him away, but he understood why, now, he thought. She donned her prickliness for protection.
He cupped her cheek in his palm. “Sweetheart,” he murmured, wanting her to look at him. “Charlie ...”
Her chin jerked away from his touch. “Don’t call me that!” She jumped from the lounge and seemed poised to stride away.
Luke caught her hand, remembering that same reaction when Peter Langford had used the nickname. “What’s the matter? Why does ‘Charlie’ set you off?”
“I was called that as a kid, okay?” She snatched her fingers from his. “I’m not a kid anymore.”
Oh, that feather was teasing the back of his neck again. When he saw the tense set of her shoulders, all his alarms started ringing. Here we go, he thought. Tread carefully. If he could get her to talk about this, he’d get her close enough to keep forever.
His hand founds hers again. “I kinda like Charlie,” he said gently. “Why is it so bad?”
She donned the sunglasses she held in her free hand, the overlarge lenses obscuring the expression on her face. “Because. . .” she hesitated, then yanked her fingers from his once again. “Because Charlie gets left, okay? But Charlotte. . . Charlotte is the one who does the leaving.”
And then, she—Charlotte—walked away from Luke, taking any hope that he’d been close to winning her back with her.
CHAPTER SIX
Getting away from Luke appeared an impossibility, Charlotte discovered. They shared a room, and even if he wasn’t in it with her, the bed was there, a big white reminder of how hot the sex had been between them the night before. Poolside wasn’t any better. Though they’d stopped with the stupid games, the banter between the couples only made her remember fourteen months before when she’d had him to play Scrabble with, to go for a run with, to share a meal with at the end of a long day.
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