She aimed her eyes heavenward in that way she’d developed whenever he and his twin brother, Luke, gave her grief. “Stop it. Stuffy and overblown doesn’t suit you.”
“Good. Interfering and nosy doesn’t suit you,” he countered.
“It does too.” Grinning, she patted his cheek. “Expertly trained mother at your service.”
She was, that was true. Always there to celebrate, soothe or redirect them as needed. “Well, no need to worry. I don’t have any romantic designs on Lottie.”
“Hmm. Is that an attempt at reverse psychology? I know you have too much free time right now and the two of you are in the same city.”
“Make up your mind, Mom.” Laughing, he slipped an arm around her shoulders and gave her a gentle squeeze. “I thought you wanted me to find an intelligent, caring and pretty girl to settle me down.” He’d been close to succeeding once. Now he wasn’t so sure all three traits existed in the same woman. “Isn’t Lottie all of those things?”
“Are you implying you’re ready to settle down? That would be music to my ears.” She rubbed his back as she’d done countless times throughout his life. Here he was, part of an elite team of operators and he still appreciated that sweet maternal affection.
He hadn’t missed the way she dodged his question. Obviously, Charlotte was pretty and she was definitely intelligent. Caring? That wasn’t an easy one to answer. Who knew what made a woman start or stop caring about a man?
His mom was right; he was jaded, and being the wife of a career army officer, she understood the risks he’d overcome better than most. But those experiences piled up, putting much more than a five-year age difference between him and the sunny, vibrant Charlotte. While he couldn’t deny he found her attractive, she wasn’t a woman to flirt with lightly.
“I’m closer,” he admitted, giving his mom a winning smile. “But there isn’t anyone in particular on my radar. Not even Lottie.”
Hope, concern and disappointment rippled across his mother’s face in rapid succession. He had no idea how to interpret or respond to any of those reactions. It all came from love, he supposed. And he knew she only wanted the best for him.
For Charlotte too. The Hanovers, Sue Ellen and Ron and their children, were as much a part of the Riley family as any of his blood relations. So it stung a little that his mother seemed to think he wasn’t good enough for her honorary niece. He battled back a surge of irritability, the result of being off the active operations team for too long.
“I should get going. Early PT,” he lied.
“We’ll see you at the beach house soon?” she asked.
“Sure.” There wasn’t anything better to do with his weekends now that he was riding a desk and running training simulations thanks to the Riley Hunter. “I’ll definitely come down for the Fourth of July.”
“Great.” She beamed. “Caleb will be thrilled to hear it.”
Mark scanned the crowd milling about on the main floor, searching for his nephew. “I’ll let him know on my way out.” It was a good way to reassure his mom he wouldn’t back out of the promised visit.
“Love you.” She kissed his cheek. “Be safe.” The final words chased him as he strode away. She’d made that particular farewell a habit when he and his siblings started driving on their own. These days she’d put it back into use because of the ever-present threat hanging over the family.
By leaving, he was probably increasing the safety factor at the gallery. There was no telling when Eaton would make another attempt to embarrass, undermine or flat-out kill one of the Riley children. Though Mark hadn’t received any overt threats like Grace Ann and Matt, everyone involved believed he’d be the next target, since he was next in the birth order. Even if he wanted to settle down, this would be the worst time to bring a woman into his life. Catching sight of Charlotte, her hair glowing under the perfect lighting, he was grateful for the protective detail hovering inside and out.
Mark had read through the security plan earlier. A patrol team was posted on the rooftops of neighboring buildings and another team cycled through the gallery with the guests. If anyone stepped a toe out of line, they’d be subdued and questioned, with the primary goal of gathering information on Eaton’s location.
Restless and uncharacteristically grumpy after his conversation with his mom, Mark decided on a little recon of his own.
* * *
Charlotte had never been entirely comfortable in the spotlight, but having Mark in the gallery made her big night a thousand times worse. She was too aware of him, always had been. She couldn’t recall a time when she hadn’t been charmed by his quick wit or the laughter lurking in his eyes. And that dimple when he smiled… It made her melt.
The man was a serious threat to her peace of mind. Inwardly, she scolded herself for giving only half an ear to her conversation with a lovely couple, longtime clients of the gallery, while keeping tabs on Mark. Her gaze seemed drawn to him when he was upstairs, when he paused to pick up a beer at the bar, when he circled through the smaller gallery rooms. It was like being in the throes of her crush as a teenager all over again.
Long before her first real kiss, she’d daydreamed about kissing Mark, holding his hand on vague romantic dates. Outrageous fantasies, considering the age gap, but her young heart was stuck on him. Back then, five years might as well have been a century. Eventually, he drifted out of her life and into his career. She grew up and gained a more realistic framework of dating and relationships, though none of her boyfriends had completely exorcised her image of Mark as the perfect guy.
And being the target of his charming smile was all it took to bring that image back to the top of her mind. What awful timing.
For weeks, she’d been envisioning this night the way an athlete might visualize a critical performance or important game. Tonight had the potential to change everything. These connections could propel her name into the right circles, open more doors and launch her career as an independent artist. She loved working as an art therapist, but taking this past year to stretch herself had revealed a new facet of her passion. What she wanted more than anything was to develop a retreat for artists and creatives, maybe even hold camps for students. Tonight could be the first step on that path.
To prepare, Marisol had employed role-playing conversations and drilled Charlotte in the art of graciously accepting compliments. None of her practice scenarios included an appearance by Mark. Naturally, her agent wouldn’t have thought about the possibility because she didn’t know about Charlotte’s lifelong infatuation with the man. It hadn’t crossed her mind that he would even be available to attend.
Having him here threw everything off-kilter. She wanted to put the world on pause or hide in the back room until she could adjust to being in the same vicinity as his perfect body and devilish grin again.
She hadn’t seen him in person since a summer party a few years ago when the families had rented cottages in Cape May. Mark had brought his girlfriend on that trip. In the Riley family, that kind of move indicated a serious commitment. Charlotte had done her best to be a supportive extra sister, ignoring the last of her teenage heartbreak. She’d vowed to be happy when the wedding announcement arrived, but it never had. She hadn’t asked for any details, too worried that her crush would be revealed.
He hadn’t brought a date tonight.
As he strolled by, for what must have been the third time, she felt like a shipwrecked sailor, helpless against the circling of a hungry shark. Every time her gaze landed on him, temptation swelled through her. This wasn’t good, couldn’t be healthy.
If she asked, would he kiss her? An experiment between friends was all she needed. If he agreed, she could finally stop wondering and know what his lips felt like against hers. Then she could put an end to this fixation.
Losing track of yet another conversation, she covered the gaffe with a smile. “Please excuse me.” She apologiz
ed for interrupting the older gentleman quizzing her about a painting and stepped into Mark’s wake. Hopefully her intent to catch up with him wasn’t too obvious.
She found him chatting with a teenage boy she didn’t recognize. “Pardon me—”
“Perfect timing,” Mark interrupted her. “Caleb, this is the artist of the evening, Charlotte Hanover.” He winked at her over the boy’s head. “Charlotte, my nephew, Caleb.”
The relationship raised a dozen questions, but she kept them to herself. How and why had her mother never mentioned the next generation of Rileys was in the works?
“He’s Matt’s oldest,” Mark said cheerfully, his warm brown eyes alight with mischief. “It’s a great story.”
“I’m sure it is.” Charlotte could see the Riley genes in the boy’s eyes and smile. Better to keep her nose out of it than ask the wrong question. “Is this your first art show, Caleb?”
He nodded. “Other than school or museums.”
“I’m honored you’re here,” Charlotte replied. She enjoyed talking with kids more than adults. Younger people were typically more direct and willing to share an honest opinion once they warmed to the topic. Or her.
“They said it was a family event.” He shrugged one shoulder, his cheeks coloring a little. “Not that it isn’t great.”
She liked him immediately and she got the sense that he didn’t mind family things as much as he let on. “Are you bored?”
Caleb’s gaze brightened. “I thought I would be, but it’s actually cool.”
High praise, she thought, and more sincere than some of the conversations she’d had this evening. As she and Caleb walked toward one of the smaller rooms, he candidly shared his opinion on various pieces. Following a hunch, she mentioned comic books. He jumped at the topic and they discussed pros, cons and his favorite comic book characters and artists. By the time they met up with Caleb’s mom, Bethany, and Matt, Charlotte felt as if she’d made a new friend. Possibly created a new fan of art, in general.
“Well, he’s hooked for life,” Mark said from just behind her. “Nice job.”
She managed to keep all the fluttery tremors on the inside. “Thank you,” she replied in the same friendly tone she’d practiced in the mirror for the past month. “Some lucky girl down the line will be grateful that such a cutie can talk about something other than sports or pizza.”
Mark tilted his head. “Is that some kind of jab at my lousy conversational skills at fifteen?”
“Not at all. If memory serves, you could talk bark off a tree at his age.”
“Someone had to be the chatty twin,” he pointed out.
She laughed, hoping the sound came out more like an amused, accomplished woman than a giggly, bubbleheaded girl. That was forever her trouble with Mark. He was approachable, friendly and though he teased her on occasion, he was never unkind. The hang-up had always been on her side, in her heart and mind where hormones and daydreams twisted up the friendly signals, weaving them into a delectable, impossible world that revolved around that handsome face.
“Actually Luke was chatty enough with me earlier,” she said.
Mark’s dark eyebrows snapped together. “About what?”
“Hmm? Oh, Italy. He vacationed in the same region where I studied abroad for a semester.” What was it about Mark that got her all wound up while his twin easily fit into the brotherly category? It made zero sense to her when they looked so much alike.
She made an effort to study Mark objectively. He currently wore a close-trimmed beard that flattered his strong jaw and highlighted the lone dimple. His dark suit was typical of those worn by the majority of the men in attendance. But to her, he wasn’t typical at all.
Mark inquired about Italy, then asked her how she’d prepared for this show. She found herself inexplicably at ease as the party swirled around them, a blur of color, light and sound. Thank goodness. It was high time adult Charlotte showed up for these interactions.
While they chatted, she caught Mark scanning the room, his gaze occasionally settling on one person or another. Was he expecting someone? Please, not a date. Before she could ask what or whom he might be looking for, Marisol appeared and tugged her away to speak with an interested patron and a gallery owner visiting from the West Coast.
She didn’t recall invitations going that far out of the area, but there was no time to ask for clarification. Marisol made introductions and Charlotte smiled through the poorly veiled condescension as the two men grilled her about her alma mater, her mentors both here and abroad and her brush techniques. Marisol abandoned her to the not-quite-polite interrogation with a bolstering thumbs-up behind their backs as she darted away to sweet-talk someone else on Charlotte’s behalf.
To her immense relief, Patricia Riley drew her away from the men a few minutes later. “How are you holding up?”
“Better now,” she replied. Mark’s mother had a knack for seeing right to the heart of any person or issue. “Thanks for the save, Aunt Patricia.”
“They sounded like a couple of jerks.” Patricia cast a glance over her shoulder.
“To paraphrase my agent, jerks with money must not be ignored,” Charlotte whispered.
“Maybe they should be. On a case-by-case basis, of course.” She aimed a subtle glare at the pair. “Earlier, that snobby gallery owner overheard Caleb talking about your redwood landscapes and had the nerve to correct his opinion,” she said. “It’s art and he’s a kid.” Patricia shook her head. “Ben kept me from putting the snob in his place.”
Charlotte smothered a snort. “That would have been fun to watch.”
“That’s what I said.” Patricia winked. “My overprotective mother-bear mode only seems to intensify with age.” She waved the observation aside. “You’re handling this evening with amazing grace and patience. We’re all so proud of you.”
“Thanks. That campground by the lake in Florida is my happy place,” Charlotte confessed. “I think about it when I’m stuck in the more challenging conversations.” Her current challenge was how to casually inquire if Mark was seeing anyone. She wanted a kiss—to get over him—but she wouldn’t ask if he was currently involved with someone.
Patricia beamed. “Those weeks with your family were some of my favorite summer vacations. We’re planning a big bash for the Fourth of July at the beach house. Everyone is coming. Why don’t you join us?”
“Oh.” Yes! Yes! Yes! Teenager Charlotte was doing back handsprings; adult Charlotte wasn’t so sure. As much as she loved the Rileys, more time around Mark could undermine her efforts to leave her crush in the dust. Especially if he agreed to her fantasy-ending kiss tonight. “I don’t know…”
“No entitled jerks with more money than taste, just the family, I promise,” she added, making Charlotte grin. “It’s an ocean view rather than the lake, but we have plenty of room and a decent stretch of the beach all to ourselves. And no one will hassle you about your inspiration and influences.”
It sounded like the most wonderful adult version of the best parts of her summer memories. “Are my parents going down?” A much safer question than inquiring about Mark’s love life.
“They will if I have my way about it,” Patricia replied with a conspiratorial grin. “There’s plenty of time between now and then. Even if you can’t make it for the holiday, you’re welcome anytime. We’re a relatively short road trip from here.”
“Thanks.” A tide of sincerity and gratitude washed over her.
They’d managed to find a small gap in the crowded gallery and Charlotte caught a whiff of fresh air coming in from the rear doors. Her body instantly relaxed.
“Go take a break,” Patricia urged. “You’ve earned it. I’ll tell Marisol you went upstairs to mingle.”
“You’re the best.” She gave the woman who’d been her second mother a quick hug and then dashed for the back room and outside.
The night air, salted with the nearby Atlantic Ocean, brushed away the odor mash-up of people and perfumes, wines and hors d’oeuvres. Closing her eyes, she breathed deeply, the tension flowing out of her shoulders.
Out here, no one asked her the same question in forty different ways. No one pressed her for an educated opinion on masters like Picasso or the potential of their first grader’s latest finger painting. The solitude was marvelous, restorative bliss.
Until she noticed she wasn’t alone.
CHAPTER 2
Mark had been headed back inside the gallery after speaking with the security team monitoring the perimeter when he heard the back door open into the alley. He stopped short, holding his breath until Charlotte emerged. She’d always craved quiet and solitude, needing more of both than anyone else he’d known. Not wanting to disturb her hard-earned break, he paused, unmoving, in the shadows.
The way she tipped back her head and lifted her arms as she stretched back put him in mind of the legends of beautiful sirens that lured sailors to their deaths. Fanciful but true. And yet more proof he needed to get back to doing the real work with his team.
She shook back those lush waves of her golden red hair and he immediately felt guilty for lying to his mother. No, he didn’t want to settle down, but he suddenly had Charlotte on his radar. He tried to shove the foolish thought away, but there was something different about her tonight. Less quiet kid and more enticing woman.
His mother thought his hard experiences made him all wrong for Charlotte. She saw the beauty in the world; he saw the violence. But maybe, if she was amenable, they could have some fun before those differences caught up with them. Just thinking of how to phrase that suggestion left him feeling like a jerk. She deserved better than a friends-with-benefits fling to pass the time.
He cleared his throat, cringing when she whirled around. “Easy. It’s just me. Mark,” he added, when she squinted at him.
Harlequin Romantic Suspense December 2020 Box Set Page 73