“Mom?” Rick asked.
“I’m okay. It’s just that maybe coming out tonight wasn’t such a good idea. Palpitations.” She glanced away, toward the far wall. “I’ll just get Eric to sit with me until he can take me home. He’s my …”
“Date,” Rick offered, guiding his arm around his mother’s waist. He shot Charlotte a worried glance, but pasted a smile on his face, obviously playing it light with his mother. “You can say it. You’re here with your date.”
“I’m here with my doctor.”
“Who’s suddenly paying exclusive attention to one patient?” Rick smiled knowingly at his mother, then gestured across the room, calling the doctor over.
“It’s like you said, I’m his patient.”
But Charlotte noticed Raina couldn’t meet her son’s gaze.
“Who’s the lucky woman tonight?” Raina asked in an obvious subject change.
“I told you they won’t have anything to do with me.” He winked Charlotte’s way.
“What happened to Donna Sinclair?” his mother asked.
“She only wanted me for my body.”
Raina rolled her eyes and Charlotte couldn’t help but laugh at the byplay, though she too was concerned about Raina’s health.
“Erin Rollins?”
“Last month’s news, Mother.”
“Then maybe you could try cheering up Beth Hansen.”
At the mention of Beth’s name, Charlotte started, then grew concerned. “Why? Isn’t she with David?” Charlotte didn’t expect Beth and her fiancé here, not when they hadn’t seen each other going on two weeks.
“I haven’t seen Beth but I hear her fiancé’s a no-show and figured she’d need a shoulder,” Raina said. “But that could just be hearsay.”
Charlotte sighed. “I’ll stop by on my way home and talk to her.”
Raina nodded. “One of you should. Now, Rick, since Charlotte’s taken that job, how about you ask Mary Pinto to dance? She’s over there by her mother’s wheelchair.”
He shook his head.
“Lisa Burton?” She pointed to the conservative school-teacher standing by the wall.
He sighed. “I can find my own dates, Mom. And I’m here talking with Charlotte now. Are you trying to scare her away?”
“Funny. From what I hear of your brother’s behavior when Charlotte’s near, I thought Charlotte was his concern, not yours.”
Before Charlotte could react, Dr. Fallon came up beside them. He promised Rick he’d sit with Raina until she got her strength back, and then he’d drive her straight home. He steered Raina away with a firm hand at her back.
Rick stared after them, amused by the new couple, but obviously very concerned about his mother’s health. “She can’t be in better hands,” Charlotte said.
“I know.”
“Anyone ever tell you that you Chandlers are like hurricanes?” she asked, speaking of Raina’s references to Roman.
Rick shook his head. “Not lately, but it’s as good a description as any.”
“I adore your mother, but sometimes she can be …”
“Blunt,” Rick said.
“An admirable trait when aimed at others,” Charlotte said with a laugh. “Twice as admirable when she’s accumulating business for me. It’s just that …”
“She embarrassed you talking about Roman.”
Charlotte nodded. “Before we dance, do you want to make sure your mother’s okay?”
“No. You said it yourself. She couldn’t be in better hands than her doctor’s. So may I have this dance?” He held out his hand. “You can whisper customer names in my ear.”
She laughed. “Why not?”
He swung her into his arms and onto the dance floor in time for a slow dance. It wasn’t the most orthodox place to discuss the panty thief. They bumped into many couples on the crowded floor, Pearl and Eldin included. The living-in-sin duo were slow dancing together, too slow in deference to Eldin’s bad back. Watching them, happy at their age, should have given Charlotte hope for her own future, but increased her longing for Roman instead.
“Customers, Charlotte,” Rick whispered, bringing them cheek to cheek.
“You’re one smart cop.” She laughed and whispered the needed information in his ear. He had his list of her customers at last.
But the best part of the dance had to be the fact that dancing with Rick had done what Charlotte and her outfit could not. She finally had Roman’s attention. He was looking their way, a scowl on his handsome face.
* * *
If Roman strangled his brother, he’d burn in hell, but it might be worth the sacrifice just to get Rick’s hands off Charlotte’s bare back.
Roman clenched his fists at his sides, taking in Charlotte’s leather pants and the handkerchief-style top that wrapped around her like a sarong and was tied in one knot in the back. One freaking knot that could open with the slightest breeze—or the nimblest fingers. Damn her for wearing an outfit that chic and suggestive anyway. This was a family event in town hall, not a New York City singles dance, for God’s sake.
“Yoo-hoo, Roman.” A feminine hand waved in front of his face. Terrie Whitehall. He’d forgotten he was deep in conversation about the rudeness of patrons to bank tellers. “What?” he asked, never taking his gaze from Charlotte and Rick. The traitor.
“I’m still not sure what I think of her,” Terrie said.
“What you think of who?” Roman had long ago perfected the art of repetition without truly paying attention.
“Charlotte Bronson. You’re staring at her, so who else would I be talking about?”
Caught in the act, Roman forced himself to refocus on the brunette looking at him as if he’d lost his mind. “What about her?”
“She’s older than I am, mind you …”
“Just a year,” he reminded her.
“Well, she’s never done anything to me. Still, to come home and open up such a brazen shop …”
“I was under the impression most of the women, young and old, appreciated the cosmopolitan feel she’s brought to the town.”
“Some women, yes.”
But not the jealous, repressed ones, he thought, taking in Terrie’s severely pulled-back hair, spare makeup, and ruffled blouse buttoned up to her neck. What the hell had he been thinking, considering her for the mother of his child?
Roman knew damn well what he’d been thinking—that he’d find a woman the distinct opposite of Charlotte in looks. One who worked nine to five, who could provide him with the intelligent conversation he sought. Okay, so he’d found conversation. Some of it
