To Seduce A Rogue (Southern Heat Book 1)

by Tracy Sumner

  Did she miss him, too?

  If she did, she hid it well. She talked to him, they had to talk, but she was distant.

  You’re just like everybody else in this town, Chase. We’ll forget this happened, forget we were ever friends.

  She was wrong, of course. Only, explaining that would further complicate the situation. He should be glad there was distance between them. Now there were no strong bonds to break when he left. Only Lila, which was the weakest bond he could imagine.

  In a final thrust of life’s blade, the damned dreams had started again. As vivid as ever. No age-honored tradition of time healing all wounds. The field was just as muddy, Eaton’s blood just as red, flowing through Adam’s fingers in rivers of crimson panic.

  “What do you think about making the switch?”

  Adam forced his mind from the dreams. He made a show of flipping to the page marked by columns of names and striking through one. “Consider yourself switched.”

  Tom frowned. “Are you angry about something?”

  Adam rolled his shoulders, not able to hide his fatigue. “Sorry. Just tired. The paper.” He waved a hand in dismissal as he stood and headed for the door.

  Tom was the better man, and they all needed to remember that fact.

  The second round of knocking sounded. “I’m coming,” Charlie called. She passed through a strip of sunlight just beginning its climb from the neatly swept floor to the wall. She struggled to tie a knot at the back of her apron. She never put it on unless she expected company.

  The men were coming to cut down the pine tree. She told Miles it could wait until they finished the other repairs in town. What did they think she was going to do—climb on the branches and swing? She opened the door, surprised to see Tom standing on the porch with an ax in his hand. The scent of smoke drifted in around him.

  Of course, it was fine for Tom to cut down the tree, but she’d assumed Miles—or maybe Chase—would do it.

  “Hello, Tom.”

  “Charlotte.” He moved a step closer.

  She smothered the urge to step back. “I’m surprised to see you here. Can the bank do without you for an entire day?” She smiled to lighten the gibe.

  He laughed, good-natured clear to his bones. “Oh, they can do without me today, I think. Especially after I specifically requested this assignment.” His eyes danced with something she did not care to define.

  “Oh?” Was this gesture supposed to please her? She wasn’t good at faking flattery. And frankly, the need to did not arise often.

  “I asked Adam if he would switch with me. Originally, he and Miles were coming. But, dog, don’t you see those two enough?”

  She wished she could see more of Adam Chase.

  Her stomach fluttered as she recalled their stolen kiss. She swallowed hard. “Thank you, thank you for volunteering to help. Chase is so busy, surely he doesn’t have the time...” She shut her mouth to halt a stream of words that might get her into trouble if she wasn’t careful.

  “Oh, he and Miles didn’t get off that easy. They’re repairing Mr. Whitefield’s storage shed. The roof collapsed.”

  “That’s good, great. Nice of them, I mean.”

  “Charlotte, are you all right? Have you been getting enough sleep?” His frowned, a wrinkle appearing between his brows. “And at the meeting yesterday, Adam looked as if he was ready to drop.” He tapped the ax handle against his boot. “Can that newspaper mean so much?”

  She shook her head, when she really meant yes. Yes it does mean that much. “Tom, I would love to have a nice, long visit, but I’m in the middle of cleaning. Besides, you have to attend to that dangerous tree, right?”

  “Yes, I do.” He turned, taking the steps with his measured, efficient gait. He glanced over his shoulder, his gaze alert, surveying. “Are you sure you’re feeling all right?”

  She presented what she hoped was a healthful, comforting smile. He smiled back, but, for the first time since she’d known him, she doubted his sincerity. As he walked off, she closed the door, leaning her shoulder into it. She knew what she must do. This farce with Tom had gone on long enough. He was taking her to dinner Saturday; she would tell him then. She liked him, had always thought of him as a friend. Not a good friend like Miles...Kath...Chase. But a friend just the same.

  It wasn’t fair to let him wait for her to come around. She understood now—better than ever—that she was never going to come around. The idea of marrying Tom had, at one time, held a certain secure charm. It wasn’t all her fault. He could have retreated at any time. There weren’t many reasons she could see for him to have kept trying.

  One being that he loved her.

  Releasing a breath, she slid to the floor, dropping her chin to her knees and wrapping her arms around her legs. Had she ever—honestly, in her heart—believed she would share a home with Tom?

  Share a bed?

  It wasn’t Tom she imagined sharing a bed with. It wasn’t Tom she imagined touching, kissing, licking. Did people even do such things? She prayed they did, because horribly vivid images entered her mind constantly. Images clear enough to send sharp, almost painful trails of heat through her belly and even sometimes, well...below. Nothing exact, rather, it was a mix for the senses.

  Chase’s lips guiding hers, his hands, his fingers, caressing her. The images were indecent. Exhilarating. Frightening. Forbidden. This was something a woman dreamed about doing with her husband, for heaven’s sake. Here she was, oh, her face burned to think of it.

  She scrubbed her hands over her eyes, trying to erase the pictures.

  If only.

  If only what, Charlie? She flung her hands to the floor. If only he weren’t leaving? Would that make any difference? She shook her head, knowing it would not. She knew him. He was too much like her. It was true, she didn’t know all the details of his past, but she had seen sides of him others had not. He didn’t believe in love; he was not in love with her. Perhaps, he thought there was a mild infatuation between them, an innocent flirtation.

  Beyond doubt, other women had been in love with him. With his looks, wealth and charm, how could there not be others?

  Chase’s women, ah, they probably understood him as well as a lengthy Russian novel. Much of his duplicity was deliberate—sly glances and coy words meant to cloak genuine sentiment.

  The beautiful smiles and flashing dimples tended to daze a girl.

  Her only advantage—as strange as it was, since it had never been an advantage before—was that she thought like a man. She was as stubborn, as determined. As capable.

  What about Lila, who was trying her hardest to ensnare him? Charlie couldn’t even collect a dose of malice for her, because he was going to leave her, too. In any case, she didn’t deserve him. If the real Chase—the person beneath the handsome facade—walked past Lila on the street, she wouldn’t recognize him. Would she think his mind, his sharp intellect, his clear, articulate speech splendid? Would she enjoy sparing with him, challenging his inestimable wit? Would she protect his vulnerability? Would she even think to search for it?

  A noise. She pressed her ear to the door. Tom and Chester were riding away. Without a goodbye.

  She was going to make Tom even angrier on Saturday night.

  It would have been wonderful—and wretched—to see Chase today. Maybe he would have taken his shirt off to cut down the tree. Charlie buried her face in her arms, uttering a feeble moan.

  She missed him. Missed their walks, their comfortable conversations, their conspiratorial smiles. She longed for the pungent odor of his cheroots, the touch of his fingers brushing hair from her face, the charismatic timbre of his voice.

  With that staggering kiss lying between them, could they be friends again? She wanted to be his friend—wanted to absorb everything before he returned to Richmond.

  Maybe they needed to forgive each other, forgive themselves, for what they could not give.

  “Lila, I can’t make it this Saturday.”

  Lila stiffened,
the porch swing tilting as she turned to him. Her mouth settled into a stubborn pout. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean: I cannot come to dinner on Saturday night.” He allowed himself a modest smile, hoping to soften the announcement.

  “Why, Adam, certainly you’re mistaken.”

  “No, Lila, I am not mistaken.” Still the smile.

  She trailed her finger along a crease in her dress. “May I ask, after planning this dinner for three days, what could keep you from attending?”

  “Gerald and Charlie are working this very minute, staying late to finish a press run. We’re two days behind already.” He dug a cheroot from his shirt pocket. “I have to work on Saturday night.”

  She wrinkled silk between her fingers. “Why can’t Charlotte work on Saturday? Does she have a dinner to attend? I’ve invited ten people to my home, not including my parents. The menu is set. The replies secured. These people want to discuss Richmond. Europe. Not Edgemont.” She shook her head, truly puzzled. “What will we do without you?”

  Adam lit his cheroot and smothered a smile. “Certainly, I can’t mean that much to your lovely dinner party?”

  She laid her hand on his arm. “No, it’s fine. We can discuss Mrs. Mindlebright’s upcoming class or, better yet, the Dole’s new barn.” She waved her hand before her face as smoke drifted her way. “Can’t Charlotte work for you? What else has she got to do?”

  He jerked his arm from her, deciding to let his frustration show. “Lila, I have no idea what she has to do. I simply don’t want her in the office alone at night. So, I’m working on Saturday. End of story.”

  “What is it with the two of you? Do you think I didn’t see you follow her into the woods at the dance, each of you trailing back, separately, twenty minutes later? I kept telling myself ‘Lila there’s nothing to be worried about, she has a beau. God help him—’”

  “I’ve heard enough.” Adam stood, pushing the swing back. He dropped to one knee, grasped a slat of the swing and jerked it until Lila’s face was inches from his own. “I am only going to say this once: I don’t answer questions about my private life. Do you think what we’ve shared in these few, brief weeks gives you the right to dictate what I will or will not do? Or with whom?”

  She didn’t pull her gaze from his, though he felt her tremble. “My family is dead, Lila. Therefore, so is my accountability to another living soul. I don’t have a wife or any illegitimate children. I don’t keep a mistress. In fact, I only entertain the most discreet affairs, and those happen when and where I choose. I don’t like problems, scandals or threats. And, I don’t like when my friends are hurt by unjust rationalizations, conjured by foolish, resentful people.”

  He released the swing and pushed to his feet. “Be careful which gossip you choose to repeat, Lila. If your sense of family is so warped that you can’t distinguish right from wrong, then let me inform you that I will not allow you to attack her any more than you already have. Do you understand?”

  Lila straightened, her spine pressed into the wooden slats. “Are you in love with her?” she whispered, her strangled tone clearly stating she found the prospect appalling.

  He met her gaze, offering nothing. He stared for several long seconds. He didn’t owe this woman any part of his life or his thoughts. “Good-bye, Lila.”

  He did not look back, even as she called to him.

  16

  Provocation

  Something that incites, instigates, angers or irritates.

  He needed a drink. Soon. Now. Thank God the saloon was right around the corner.

  Something was in the air. He sniffed. Burning leaves. He could almost taste the cinders on his tongue. With a cough, he crossed the boardwalk and swung the Four Leaf’s doors wide. The rank smell of tobacco and whiskey circled him and settled in. Not a sign of cheap perfume. He made a quick study, hoping the women had the night off. It was hard for an unattached man to get a drink without assistance, even in this town. A sigh of relief escaped him. He didn’t care if he talked to another female for as long as he lived.

  “She’s over there.”

  Adam turned to find a curvaceous woman, blond hair hanging well past her shapely bottom, staring at him. Damn if they didn’t sneak right up on a man. “Pardon me?”

  “We heard about you. All nice manners and pretty clothes. The one you’re looking for is over there.” She hitched her head toward the back.

  What is she talking about? His gaze strayed to the dark corner. Well, he would be goddamned.

  Charlie sent him a cheery smile and bombastic salute, her cool, blue gaze sparkling like a child’s. Something in her expression triggered a memory: her lips under his, their tongues meeting, his hand sliding along her back and wanting to move lower. His mouth went dry; his groin tightened. “I wasn’t looking for her.” He glanced back to the woman. “Really.”

  She smiled and put her hand against his back, pushing him toward the table. “Anything you say, mister.”

  Charlie, in refined fashion, whistled as he approached. “Hello, boss.”

  Scowling, he halted at Charlie’s table. “I thought you agreed to work in the office tonight.”

  She nodded, her face cloaked in shadow. “I did.”

  He held out his hand in question. When she didn’t reply, he dragged a chair over. “Well, I guess I’ll have a seat.”

  Charlie glanced at her writing tablet. She was holding to her promise to get along with him. The last few days had been uneventful. No arguments, no disagreements. No kisses, either. Which was...good...bad...good. Bowing her head, she smiled. She was happier. Of course, everything was not back to normal. Never would be, she guessed. For one, they weren’t walking home together. And that peculiar, intense pressure still vibrated between them. Still, they were sharing those lovely, furtive smiles again, as if they could talk without speaking, and they worked together like pieces of a fine pocket watch, with remarkable rhythm and precise execution.

  They made a good team.

  The chair creaked as he sat. Affected, as always, by his presence, she battled with herself a moment before glancing at him.

  He was staring at a sketch of Aldo and his family, hanging on the wall above her head. “One of yours?”

  “Yes. I drew that one, oh, three years ago. The children were just babies.”

  “Another of your many talents.”

  Now what did that mean? The serving girl saved Charlie from having to respond. She carried a wine bottle and two glasses, which she placed on the table with a thump and a giggle. “One of yours, Mr. Chase.”

  For the first time, Adam appeared to notice her standing there. His gaze fell to the bottle. “Thank you.” He dug in his pocket and handed her a coin. She flashed a smile and walked away.

  “What was that about?”

  He stared at her for a long moment. “How should I know?”

  Should she believe him? After all, he came in here a lot. She didn’t think Aldo would allow anything risqué to go on in the Four Leaf, but what about after hours?

  Adam opened the bottle with a wooden stick with a curled metal end. He poured himself a glass, then gestured to her. She nodded. His wrist turned and the dark, ruby liquid flowed into her glass. He was an elegant man. Graceful: the way his fingers lightly caressed the stem; the way he cupped his palm around the curved glass, raising it slowly to his lips.

  His gaze met hers across the table. “Try it.”

  “What” —she licked her lips— “is it?”

  He took another drink. She watched the muscles in his neck contract when he swallowed. “A French wine I tried when I was in Europe a few years ago. One I was not able to ship to the states until last month. In fact, restaurants in Richmond are just receiving it. I think it will be quite popular.” He tipped his glass at her.

  She raised her glass and took a sip, almost purring in pleasure as the rich, spicy liquid slid down her throat. A smoky aroma, like the forest in winter, met her nose. She laughed and sampled a bit more.
r />   He smiled, one of the genuine smiles she loved. “Lovely, is it not?”

  A laugh from the bar drew Charlie's attention. She twisted in her chair. The serving girl was pointing at them. Charlie frowned and turned back. Chase's gaze once again strayed to a point above her head.

  “Have you had relations with her?”

  He jumped as if she’d interrupted deep sleep. “What?”

  “You heard me.”

  He groaned and drained his glass in one swallow.

  She shifted her shoulder in the direction of the bar. “It’s not me they’re after.” She didn’t want him to think she was crazy. She didn’t want him to think she was jealous, either. But to imagine him running his hands—

  She drained her glass in one swallow.

  He leaned in. “That’s not something you should ever ask a man.” His whisper was harsh, his brows drawn.

  “She’s laughing about something. I was just curious.”

  “Curious.” He poured another drink. Looking above her head again, he sighed, then shrugged. “Fine. You’re curious.” He moved the wine bottle in a slow circle on the table. “They’re whispering about us, Charlie. Me. You. Together.” His gaze locked with hers. “They think we’re having relations.”

  Her mouth dropped open. “No.”

  “Yes, they do. Part of the reason they believe that is because I” —he traced his finger along the mouth of the bottle— “I’ve rejected offers of, shall we say, friendship.”

  “But...but, it’s not true. About us.”

  “No, it’s not true.”

  “I mean, one kiss. One simple kiss.”

  He took a sip, his gaze intense upon her. “A sweet, very lovely kiss, though I would not deem it simple.”

  He thought their kiss was lovely? Sweet?

  Exciting, hot, fierce was how she remembered it.

  “Also, not that it’s any of your business, I haven’t had relations with any of these women. Thank you, though, for thinking so highly of me.”

  “Relations? Is that different than an affair?”