As she walked to the door, she smoothed her wrinkled dress and ran a shaking hand through her messed hair. It was impossible to hide what they’d been doing.
Nor did he want to. Her well-kissed lips branded her, and damn if Roman didn’t like it that way.
So much for good intentions. He’d barged in to apologize for sending out those mixed signals. He’d intended to say good-bye and put an end to any illusions either of them held about each other. But with Charlotte, nothing was ever final or finished, no matter how hard he tried.
Realization dawned, taking him off guard. Good-bye wasn’t possible. Not with Charlotte. He couldn’t walk away from this woman and turn to another, no matter what his reasons.
He shook his head, knowing he’d had a shock just now. Knowing he’d give her one too. Instead of freeing himself for his potential wife hunt, Roman already had his candidate. One who didn’t want to play the stay-at-home wife to the long-distance, globe-trotting husband. There’d have to be compromises there. But that was okay. Even the best-laid plans often changed along the way. And when it came to Charlotte, he’d alter accordingly. He had no choice.
But first he had to convince her to give them a chance after his whole speech about walking away. He let out a groan. Roman knew she wouldn’t slam doors in his face. Given the chance, she’d sleep with him in an attempt to get him out of her system. And all the while she’d be trying to convince herself she could walk away in the end.
He had no choice but to convince her she was wrong. He’d have to take her there slowly, that much he knew. But this time there was no turning back.
His stomach churned with the conclusions he’d drawn, but dammit, they felt right. He rolled his shoulders, attempting to ease the tension, and before he could contemplate further, Charlotte had let Rick inside. Chase followed close behind.
Roman wondered what was up, to bring both his brothers to her apartment.
“Is Beth okay?” Charlotte met Rick’s gaze, concern for her friend obvious.
“She’s fine. I left her when I got an emergency call, but she was doing alright.”
“Then what’s going on?” She eyed Rick warily. “Roman doesn’t need a chaperone, so to what do I owe this visit?”
Roman wanted an answer to that as well.
“Let’s sit,” Rick said.
“Let’s not,” Roman muttered. He didn’t want to prolong their visit.
“It’s the panty thief, isn’t it?” Charlotte asked, her voice rising. “He’s struck again?”
“She’s smart,” Rick said. “Did you know she was smart, Roman?”
“Wise guy.” Charlotte laughed.
Roman rolled his eyes, turned, and headed for the living area. Apparently he was in for a sit-down with his cop brother, his other sibling, and Charlotte, not his lover or even his ex-lover … but his future wife. He refused to consider the ramifications if she refused him. Roman’s adrenaline began a steady pumping, nerves and acceptance warring for dominance. He could only imagine her reaction to his thoughts—but no way could he clue her in. Not yet. Not until he’d made her his in a way she couldn’t deny.
He lowered himself onto the butter-soft flowered couch. “What’s up?” he asked when they were all seated.
“Charlotte’s right. We’ve had another break-in.” Rick broke the silence first.
“And I’m going to press on it in the morning and post it first thing on the website,” Chase said.
Roman nodded. He knew his older brother couldn’t keep another theft under wraps. That he’d done it at all was out of respect for the police and their need to investigate without tipping their hand.
Charlotte leaned forward. “Please tell me they didn’t steal the exact same brand.”
Rick nodded. “Jack Whitehall isn’t too thrilled about the brand choice either.”
“Frieda’s pair?” Charlotte placed her head in her hands and groaned. “I only just finished making them. We delivered them to her house a few days ago.”
Roman picked up on something Rick had said. “What’s got Whitehall so upset, other than the obvious fact that his house was robbed?” Why would the older man give a damn what brand had been taken?
“Well, as far as Jack knew, his wife favored plain, utilitarian white,” Rick said.
“Frieda’s pair was white,” Charlotte said, in obvious defense of her customer.
“White and sexy,” Chase clarified. “We left them arguing over who she planned to wear the panties for.”
“She bought them for her husband’s seventieth birthday surprise,” Charlotte muttered. “Leave it to a man to draw all sorts of wrong conclusions.”
“Hey, go easy on the gender, babe,” Roman said and she slugged him in the gut with her elbow. He let out a grunt. At least the pain gave his body something to focus on other than his desire. And when the pain subsided, Roman turned to taking in his surroundings as a distraction from her luscious scent. He ran his hand over a glossy coffee table book that had seen better days.
“So that’s three robberies total …” she said.
“Five.”
That number caught Roman’s attention.
“Five?” he and Charlotte asked at the same time.
“Three occurred tonight alone. While the entire town was at the St. Patrick’s Day dance, some guy was out stealing women’s panties.”
“Who would do something so … so …” Charlotte rose from her seat, and, sensing her frustration, Roman didn’t try to stop her. “So juvenile? So stupid? So perverted?” she asked.
Rick snickered. Roman had no desire to relive his youth in front of Charlotte. “Well, we can narrow down the list of suspects by knowing who we all saw at the dance.”
“There’s one problem,” Rick said.
“What’s that?”
“The timing won’t work. The last robbery took place around ten-thirty. Whitehall chased the guy into his backyard, but he was slick and made for the small stretch of woods. Then Whitehall’s asthma kicked in and the old man collapsed.”
“Damn,” Roman muttered.
“Exactly. We know it’s someone with good stamina. And if he
