He drove down First Street, car windows open, the fresh air waking him up and calming him down. He slowed as he passed Charlotte’s Attic. A small crowd had gathered out front, which surprised him, considering she’d been worried about the thefts adversely affecting her business.
He wanted to see her badly. Thanks to the morning’s paper and his new notoriety, Roman needed to steer clear of Charlotte’s Attic. The home of the pilfered panties was the last place Roman Chandler needed to be seen.
He pulled his car to a stop at the traffic light at the edge of town. A gray sedan squeezed alongside. He glanced over as the driver lowered the passenger window. Alice Magregor, Roman realized. Her hair no longer exploded upward, but was now puffed out like a lion’s mane. Still, Roman summoned a friendly smile.
She reached down to the seat beside her, then lifted her hand and waved something in the air before honking twice and driving away.
He blinked. As the light turned green, it dawned on him—Alice had just waved a pair of panties at him. She’d issued the ultimate female challenge. Come and get me, big boy.
Just as he came to the conclusion that he wanted only one woman, the single females of Yorkshire Falls decided to declare open season. Roman let out a heavy sigh as he realized what was in store for him from the town’s feminine population. In his younger days, he’d have appreciated the attention. Now he just wanted to be left alone.
Hell of a way to embark on his crusade to get Charlotte into his life, Roman thought, and experienced a renewed desire to pummel his oldest brother. No doubt Alice’s actions had been inspired by the article in the Gazette. Though Roman knew Whitehall was a biased source, now everyone in town had been reminded of Roman’s prank over morning coffee.
Five minutes later, Roman parked in front of the Gazette and walked up the long driveway and inside. “Hi ya, Lucy.” He nodded to the receptionist, who was as much a fixture in this place as the foundation. She’d worked first for his father and then for Chase. She had a way with people and the organizational skills no newspaperman could live without.
“Hi, there, Roman.” She crooked a finger his way.
He came up beside her. “What’s up?”
She crooked her finger once more and he leaned closer. “What are you doing with the pairs you pilfer?” she asked in a whisper. “You can tell me. Are you into cross-dressing now?” She winked and let loose a laugh.
He rolled his eyes, belatedly remembering she also had a wicked sense of humor. “That isn’t funny,” he muttered.
“If it’s any consolation, Chase didn’t want to print it—he just had no choice. Whitehall basically called his journalistic integrity into question if he held back because you two were related.”
Roman shook his head. “Where is he, anyway?”
Lucy pointed thumbs upward. Roman stormed up the stairs and entered Chase’s office without knocking.
“Mind telling me what the hell you were thinking?” Roman slammed the morning paper onto his brother’s desk.
“’Bout what?”
Roman leaned forward in a threatening stance that had no effect on his big brother. Chase merely relaxed further. He rocked backward, and the top of what was once their father’s leather chair touched the windowsill, blocking a view Roman knew by heart. The pond and aging willow trees standing guard below were as much a part of him as this old Victorian house that was and always had been the Gazette offices.
“You’re too smart to play dumb and I’m not in the mood for games. Any reason you had to use my name at all?” Roman asked Chase.
“I print the news. If I’d left out Whitehall’s quote, it would have been a glaring omission.”
“To who?”
“Anyone in town old man Whitehall talks to. I don’t want people around here thinking we play favorites or protect family members.”
“A past prank isn’t news.”
Chase shook his head. “As a reporter you know better.” He rocked the chair forward. “You couldn’t give a rat’s ass what people think of you, so I can’t believe the article’s got you so bent out of shape. What really has you so pissed off anyway?” He rose from his seat and walked over, his gaze never leaving Roman’s face.
“You go back to living with our mother and you won’t need to ask that question.”
“That’d drive you to drink, not want to put me through a wall. This has nothing to do with Mom. Come to think of it, you look like hell. What’d you do? Dig ditches last night, instead of getting laid?”
“It wouldn’t have just been ‘getting laid,’” Roman responded without thinking.
“Come again?” Chase pushed Roman into the nearest chair, then slammed the door to his office closed. “Never know when Lucy’ll get bored and wander up here,” he explained, then opened the cabinet in the corner.
Their father had always stored liquor in there and Chase hadn’t changed things that much. He splashed two glasses of scotch and handed one to Roman. “Now talk.”
No matter that it was morning, Roman kicked back in the chair and downed the drink in one burning gulp. “I needed that. And I don’t have a clue what you mean.”
Chase raised his gaze upward. “You’re pissed as hell that you lost the coin toss. You’re pissed your life has to do a one-eighty, and because you think you owe me, you weren’t going to admit it.”
“Damn right.” There was no point in denying the obvious. Even if Charlotte made the
