Charlotte knew she was being somewhat happily steamrolled, but agreed to at least try on the dress. When Phoebe handed it to her, she ran her fingers over the sensuous textures of the silk and delicate lace, and knew she was done for.
In the tiny dressing room, she slid the silk over her head and sighed with pleasure when it fell down around her body, hanging at just the right height, hugging where it should. It draped beautifully, and Charlotte turned once, loving how forgiving the dress was of her less than perfect spots. It made her feel sexier than she ever thought she could.
The golden lining complemented her skin tone and hair, making the dress elegantly sexual by creating the illusion of the black French lace draping over bare skin. She knew she had to wear this dress for EJ. Maybe it was the accumulation of some good karma that she’d found it, and that Phoebe was willing to break the rules for her a little bit, but she knew this was the perfect dress.
“Come out—I want to see. Does it fit?”
Charlotte couldn’t contain her smile when she walked out through the creaky louvered door, delighting in Phoebe’s slack-jawed reaction when she saw her.
“Oh, my God you’re gorgeous! That dress was made for you.” Her eyes widened and in her excitement, she completely ignored another customer who was trying to get her attention. “Oh! Wait! I have the perfect shoes!”
Charlotte smiled weakly at the ignored woman, shrugging. The older, black woman shook her head, looking after Phoebe, but then turned her assessing gaze back to Charlotte.
“You sure can wear that dress, girlfriend. My days of ever fitting in something like that are long gone, but you want to bring your man to his knees, that dress’ll do it.”
Charlotte remained speechless for a second, picturing EJ on his knees, then collapsed in giggles, laughing joyfully with the woman, who waited as Phoebe returned with several pairs of shoes. Both women passed opinions on which ones worked for her.
After modeling several pair, they all decided on a pair of simple but deadly black pumps, and Charlotte hoped she’d have time to stop at the store and find a black velvet ribbon for her hair. She brought her purchases to the counter, suddenly apprehensive again.
“You’re sure you want to do this? I want to pay for the shoes.”
Phoebe rolled her eyes in the way only hip, twentysomething women can and waved away Charlotte’s apprehension. “I want you to wear this dress tonight—and share all the details with me tomorrow.”
“Deal. And not only will I give you a donation tomorrow, but would you like a tarot card reading as well? I read cards professionally.”
“Get out! That’s so cool! I’ve always wanted a tarot reading. Can you do it when you come back?”
“Absolutely—but it might be later in the morning, if that’s okay? I have dog-walking appointments in the morning.”
“No problem. I’m here all day, and Sharon’s gone for two more days. And what she doesn’t know won’t hurt her. She shouldn’t be trying to make more of a profit off this dress as it is.”
“Well, she probably is just trying to do what’s best for the shop.”
Phoebe rang up the shoes, and took Charlotte’s money. “I suppose. But still, the woman who gave it to us would love that you are wearing it tonight, I just know it. She really wanted someone to get to enjoy the dress.”
Charlotte smiled, liking that the previous owner of the beautiful dress was such a generous person.
“I’ll see you tomorrow, Phoebe. And I promise to be careful with the ketchup.”
EJ LOOKED AT HIS WATCH, wondering if he was being stood up. Perusing the small, elegant dining room, he wondered if he’d pushed too hard, come on too strong and frightened Charlotte away. He never really thought about it, but as his eyes traveled over the snow-white tablecloths, the glistening flatware, perfect china plates and bunches of perfect pink roses on every table, he could imagine how such an atmosphere could be intimidating to someone who wasn’t used to it.
Or had Charlotte been spooked for another reason? Was she worried he was getting too close to figuring out her secret?
It hadn’t been difficult getting a table—his mother was a regular diner here, and the Beaumont name carried some weight—but he’d been sitting alone for twenty minutes now. He’d give it ten more minutes before—
He stopped thinking. He stopped breathing altogether when she was escorted into the room by the maitre d’.
Stunning. Sexy. Breathtaking. Holy shit, he was in trouble.
She smiled tentatively, walking slowly to the table, a vision in black lace and satin, her lovely curls tied up in a softly flowing black ribbon. She still wore no makeup, no jewelry, though her cheeks burst with color as his gaze held hers, and her lips…her lips were as luscious and tempting as ever. He found himself licking his own, taking a deep breath and standing to take her hand as she approached the table. Even if she was a suspect, she was a beautiful woman, and he couldn’t—and didn’t want to—ignore his response to her. At least for the moment.
“Charlotte.” He let his eyes travel the entire length of her, taking in every inch of the gorgeous dress until she warmed beneath his gaze, the buds of her breasts blossoming under the fabric that caressed them.
“You are stunning. That dress is exquisite.” And if he wasn’t mistaken, a very expensive designer garment. He didn’t know a lot about specific designers, but he’d grown up with two women in the house, and he knew quality when he saw it.
“Thank you. I’m sorry I’m late. My taxi was caught in traffic.”
EJ frowned. “I should have picked you up. I apologize.”
“No, this is fine. I had such a busy day, is all.” She looked around, taking in her surroundings as he pulled out her chair and she sat. “This place is…incredible. The view alone is worth paying for.”
As she turned to look out the wall of clear glass overlooking the Bay and the twinkling lights of the bridge, he leaned in, inhaling her natural feminine scent and placed a light kiss on her neck. He was close enough to feel her breath catch, and to see her full breasts rise beneath the low neckline of the gown.
It’d been many decades since he’d caught himself looking down a woman’s dress—the last time was at a cousin’s wedding, and he’d been fourteen and perpetually horny, and lucky enough to have sat next to a particularly well-endowed bridesmaid. He didn’t feel so differently now, really, as he tried to drag his eyes away. Returning to his own chair, he poured them both champagne, and smiled, lifting his glass.
“To unexpected pleasures, made sweeter by their surprise.”
She lifted her glass and touched it lightly to his, sipping the champagne with such savoring grace that he almost forgot to take a drink himself, content just to watch her.
What the heck was into him? He loved women—and he’d loved women—but it was almost like he was under a spell with Charlotte. Usually he was calm and collected, charming and discreet. But at the moment it was all he could do to breathe normally and not drag her off and see what was underneath that dress.
Getting his thoughts under control, he set his glass down without drinking any more, and smiled.
“So I want to know more about you, Charlotte.”
“There’s not much to tell, I’m afraid.”
“Oh, I don’t believe that. But with your readings and your visit to my home, I feel at a disadvantage—you know a lot about me, and I know next to nothing about you.”
Lies, of course. He knew most of the surface details of her life, but he found himself curious about how much she would share, and what else might be underneath the surface.
Charlotte looked relieved when a waiter appeared. In spite of her independent, “I’ll drive myself” approach to coming to the restaurant, she seemed more than happy to hand over the responsibility of ordering their food to him. Not that he minded, and ordered an extravagant, romantic meal.
“I hope you don’t mind ordering—not having been here before, I didn’t know what would be best.”
“No problem at all. It’s a gentleman’s duty.” He smiled and watched her eyes light up. She had a compelling natural beauty, and he was glad to be spending this time with her, whether it was professional of him to enjoy it so much or not.
“This is like a fairy tale. I feel like if I blink, it will all go away.”
EJ was charmed in spite of himself, and he reached over the small table, capturing her hand in his.
“I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself. You’ll love the food—it’s some of the best in the region.”
“I don’t usually eat meats or refined sugars, but tonight I am going to love whatever they serve, I just know it.”
EJ didn’t know about her eating habits—case files only went so far—but he was glad he’d ordered mostly seafood and pasta dishes, with beautiful salads. That was his preference as well.
“Are you a vegan?”
She laughed, and it was a great laugh. “Oh, no way. I’m not that disciplined. I love food, but I just try to stay away from red meats and sugars, though I do have a chocolate habit I can’t quite conquer. I never had too much of it as a kid, and I have a hard time not overindulging now.”
“Chocolate should be a basic food group. Did your family not believe in eating many sweets?”
“I didn’t know my real family. My brother and I were given up, and grew up in group and foster homes, separately. Sometimes I got a birthday cake, but I think I got so tired of the salty processed foods that were standard fare at the group homes that once I was out on my own, I decided never to eat any of that again.”
“But you still have a sweet tooth?”
“You bet. When I was free to buy my own food, and I discovered Häagen-Dazs, and good, dark chocolate, I thought I’d gone to heaven. I have to hold myself back, or I wouldn’t fit through a doorway.”
EJ regarded her curves appreciatively. “I think you’re perfect. Bony is not sexy, in spite of what the media says.”
She blushed, fidgeting awkwardly with her utensils, and didn’t respond.
“So you mentioned a brother—a twin?”
“Oh, no. He’s younger, but was given up to a different family before I even knew about him.”
Charlotte took off telling him about her search for her brother. After she had discovered his existence while working part-time in one of the group-home offices, she’d pursued his whereabouts with dogged determination, from the sounds of it. She spoke matter-of-factly, as if anyone would—or could—have done what she did, but EJ knew differently. She’d had to use considerable resources of her own, not to mention the sheer will to persevere and locate a missing family member. He couldn’t help but be impressed.
Their food arrived while she spoke, and the conversation continued pleasantly until they were ready for dessert. EJ had enjoyed the dinner immensely—Charlotte was a fascinating companion, but unfortunately she hadn’t divulged any information that would make him suspect her more strongly. Unless she’d been running rackets to fund her family searches, but somehow he doubted it.
He was finding it more and more difficult to suspect her of anything, and wasn’t sure how to proceed. Or was he just rationalizing because she turned him on and he wanted to follow through on his desires with a clear conscience?
And he’d be less than honest with himself if he didn’t admit that he just wanted to get Charlotte alone. She was a suspect, and he was a cop—but he was also a man. A very, very tempted man.
“Do you want dessert?”
She looked at him, and he saw the muted desire in her gaze, but it wasn’t for dessert. Oh, man.
“Actually, I’m stuffed. This was wonderful, though I think the champagne went to my head a little.”
“All part of my evil plan to get you to let me kiss you again.”
The words popped out, but they were the truth. Obviously, his desires were winning out over his rational thinking.
“I don’t think you needed the champagne for that, EJ.”
He stood, pulling her up to stand closely in front of him, staring down into her liquid brown eyes. “Will you let me take you home?”
She just nodded, promises and hopes shining in her eyes as she looked up at him, and he felt as close to being a cad as he ever had in his life.
He paid the bill and escorted her from the restaurant. She was smiling so much by the time they hit the door he had to smile back.
“What’s funny?”
“Oh, nothing. I wasn’t smiling because I thought something was funny.”
“Then what?”
They walked out the massive door and EJ signaled the valet to get his car. He stood close to Charlotte, leaning down to whisper in her ear. “You can tell me. Did I walk away with my napkin stuck to my shoe or spinach in my teeth?”
She laughed again, and held him with a look so potent he couldn’t break it.
“No, it was just, well…this has been perfect. More than perfect. Dressing up, coming to a place like this, then walking out with my arm through yours, with everyone seeing us…it was…fun. Magical. I never experienced anything like that.”
She’d never felt what it was like to dress up and go out, to have a man escort her from a restaurant? EJ would have responded, but he was stunned silent. She shook her head, looking down.
“I know it’s stupid, but—”
He tipped her face up, staring into her eyes, forgetting for the moment what the reality between them was.
“No, not stupid. Not stupid at all. I’m…honored to be your date tonight, Charlotte.”
“EJ, I…”
They were interrupted when his car arrived, a shining black BMW that made Charlotte’s eyes widen into great pools. She didn’t bother hiding that she was impressed. The valet opened the door, and EJ helped her into the passenger’s seat. He leaned down to pull the seat belt over her, an excuse to get closer and brush her lips with a slight kiss.
“You amaze me, Charlotte. I’ve loved talking with you and getting to know you. But will you forgive me, darlin’, for saying that all I can think about right now is getting you alone and out of that amazing dress?”
5
CHARLOTTE SANK INTO THE supple, deep leather of the form-fitting seat as the BMW sped quickly down the highway, guided by EJ’s sure hand. The closeness of his body next to hers when he’d buckled her seat belt, the slight kiss he’d offered, and that whopper of a question he’d popped right before closing the door on her side had her mind in a whirl.
The girl who didn’t make a habit of sleeping around was thinking she wouldn’t mind letting him get her out of her dress. She wondered if he’d feel the same way when he saw where she lived, when he had to park his fancy car in the parking lot next to the old motel across from her apartment complex.
No, she reprimanded herself—EJ wasn’t like that. He might be wealthy, but he wasn’t a snob. He was spiritual, sensual and kind—he wouldn’t care about things like that.
Would he? Some rich guys liked to visit the low-end side of town and experience things on the other side of the tracks. Was she being naive?
She shook her head, trying to will away the doubtful thoughts. They emerged out of the well of insecurities she still dealt with when confronted with stressful situations, but she knew better, and closed her eyes, concentrating on the positive. She didn’t want to let anything ruin this evening. Looking out the window, she mentally counted the mile markers as they passed, lulling herself back into a comfortable frame of mind. She didn’t realize she’d been counting aloud.
“Are you feeling okay? Is everything all right?”
She snapped around to face him, realizing EJ must have been observing her silent struggle with herself, and smiled wanly.
“I’m fine, sorry. Just internal conversations that sometimes, well…”
“Show up on the outside?”
“Yeah.”
“I know what you mean—when my sister gets really stressed, or is under a lot of pressure, she talks to herself in this kind of
high-speed mumble that she doesn’t even realize she’s doing. She calls it ‘leaking.’ Like a pressure cooker letting off steam.” He grinned, keeping his eyes on the road.
“That’s a really good description. It does feel like that.”
“It sounded like you were counting?”
“Yeah, I do that sometimes.” She didn’t really want to get into her little habit, and she hoped he picked up on the vibe.
“So here we are, after a lovely meal and good company—speaking for myself, anyway.” He flashed a charming smile and then continued. “And why would you be feeling stressed?”
She shrugged, and fiddled with some of the lace on the dress, but stopped before she pulled a thread, keeping in mind she had to return it to the shop in the morning. Suddenly she felt like she was in danger of turning into a pumpkin.
“I’m just not used to this.”
“To what?”
“You know. This. Fancy dresses, fancy restaurants.” She heaved a heavy breath, and laughed lightly. “Fancy dates.”
She barely noticed when he pulled into a parking lot that definitely wasn’t her apartment. In fact, she realized after a moment that they were down by the Elizabeth River, by the naval shipyards in Portsmouth. She looked around, her voice tentative.
“Where are we?”
“I want to show you something.”
He drove through narrow lanes, easily passing through the few checkpoints where the uniformed men at the window seemed to know him, but checked his ID anyway before waving him through. Charlotte didn’t feel so much fearful as confused. Those emotions turned into sheer awe as he maneuvered down through narrow roads and alleys, pulling up near two piers that ran along the side of a huge ship. She had to scrunch down and look up through the window to see the top of it.
“Wow,” she whispered.
“She’s one of ours.”
Charlotte looked at him quizzically in the small confines of the car, and he elaborated with a proud smile.
“We built that. My father’s company.”
Flirtation Page 6