“What was so important you had to call me at the restaurant?” Charlotte interrupted, hopefully diverting the subject. She had to try before she opened the cabinet where she hid the emergency bourbon and poured it into her coffee.
“Well, it doesn’t seem such an emergency now, but...” Her mom paused, and Charlotte’s stomach clamped down tight on the unease twisting through her. Silly to feel this way. And at one time in their relationship, she wouldn’t have. Instead, she would’ve teased her mother about being dramatic. But that wasn’t their relationship anymore. Now Charlotte tensed, unsure what to expect, bracing herself against what was possibly to come. “But the caterer for the church’s Women’s Day celebration backed out at the last minute. The event is in two weeks, and I wanted to see if you could step in with small appetizers and finger foods. Nothing too fancy, since I know this is short notice...”
“Sure, Mom,” Charlotte murmured, even asAre you out of your mind?rang in her head. She already had so much on her plate, yet she didn’t rescind her agreement. Her parents had always supported her dream of being a chef even though they’d envisioned her following in the footsteps of her father and sister as an attorney.
And when was the last time her mother had asked anything from her?
No, that part of her that still longed to please her parents, and hungered for their smiles of approval and love, couldn’t turn her mom down. “Send me a list of the food you were thinking of, the place and time of the event, and when you need me there to set up.”
“Thank you, Charlotte,” her mother breathed, relief flooding through their connection. “You have no idea how much I appreciate your help and jumping in at the last minute.”
“You’re welcome.” And for the first time since she answered the phone, she smiled, a warm glow pulsing in her chest. “I’ll get—” She broke off as the doorbell echoed through the house. “I’m sorry, Mom, that’s the door. I need to go. But I’ll check back in with you later about Ben. Don’t forget to send me the information.”
“I won’t. And give that beautiful boy a huge hug and kiss from his grandma.”
“I will,” she promised. “Talk to you later.”
Ending the call, Charlotte strode from the kitchen down the short hall toward the front door. She glanced down at her smartwatch, noting the time with a frown. Nine twenty. Who would show up at her house so early on a Friday morning? Even Faith didn’t call her until after twelve because Charlotte had made it known that her mornings belonged to Ben. And she’d already called and left a message with both Faith and Jeremy Randall, the owner, to inform them she wouldn’t be in today because her son was still under the weather.
Her thoughts drifted to Ben as she pushed aside the curtain over the window bracketing the front door. He had still been napping when her mother called, but she needed to check on him—
Jesus.
Her arm dropped like a leaden weight to her side, the curtain drifting back into place as she helplessly stared at the window.
No. It couldn’t be. God wasn’t that unkind.
But she doubted God had anything to do with who stood on her porch. All that credit belonged to the guy a lot farther south.
She squeezed her eyes shut, and as if of its own volition, her hand rose to her neck, fingers lightly stroking the necklace underneath her long-sleeved shirt. As soon as she realized what her wayward fingers were doing, she jerked her arm back down.Dammit. As much as she fervently wished otherwise, nothing could change the fact that he stood on the other side of her door.
The thunderous pounding of her heart and the rush of her pulse in her head only validated it.
She could pretend not to be home. Avoid him. After all, he’d shown up at her house unannounced and definitely uninvited. This wasn’t Sheen, and she didn’t have to speak to him. Or look at him. Drown in those eyes that both threatened frostbite and to consign her to flames. Inhale his masculine, earthy,rawscent that carried notes of sandalwood, man and sex. Burn in the contempt that leaped from him in rolling waves of heat.
She owed it to herself, and especially to Ben, to protect her son at all costs. Because the alternative was...unthinkable.
Fear fissured through her, its impact stealing her breath. Ross believed she’d “gotten rid of him,” as he and Rusty had ordered her to, three years ago. What would he do if he found out she hadn’t obeyed his command...
The doorbell pealed again.
Dammit. Her fingers curled into her palms, the short fingernails digging into her flesh.
She wasn’t a coward. Ross Edmond no longer wielded any power over her. He was a nonfactor, and to not answer that door and hide would mean he affected her emotions, her life. And she refused to grant that to him.
Before she could talk herself out of it, she twisted the lock and doorknob, flinging the door open.
Maybe she should’ve taken a few extra minutes...
Yes, she’d just seen Ross last night, but those hours hadn’t inoculated her against the force of his presence. Three years and over a thousand miles’ distance should’ve been enough. But that had been wishful thinking on her part.
Silently, she shuffled backward, and his ice-blue gaze didn’t shift from her face as he stepped inside her home. Which was fair, she supposed, since she couldn’t remove hers from his.
It wasn’t fair.
Someone who led the dissolute lifestyle of a playboy should wear the corruption of it on his skin, his body. Like a masochist, she’d occasionally done a Google search of Ross’s name over the years. And every time, an image of him with a different woman as they emerged from this party or that club had popped into the feed.
But no. His golden skin remained as unblemished and smooth as ever. His lean, broad-shouldered body stood as straight and powerful as before. The wide, carnal curves of his mouth still promised sex and sin. Those penetrating, bright blue eyes were as clear and incisive as she remembered.
