Kiss Me If You Can (Bachelor Blogs 1)

He raised his eyebrow. “And what would that be?”

“Help me convince her we’re not really engaged.”

“Done.” He shook her hand to seal the deal. Sizzling electricity crackled between them, reminding her that as much as he’d tried to place distance between them, there was chemistry that would not be denied.

“DO YOU HAVE ALLERGIES?” Lexie asked Coop as they stepped off an old elevator and strode down the dark hall.

That was an strange question, he thought. “No. Why?”

She inserted her key in the lock, opened the apartment door and the heavy smell of violets nearly bowled him over.

“Whoa.” He waved his hand in front of his nose.

“That’s why.” Lexie laughed. “Don’t worry. You’ll get used to it. Ready?” Before he could answer, she stepped inside, pulling him along with her. “Grandma, we’re here!” Lexie called out.

“I’m in the kitchen. I’ll be right out!”

“Come on in,” Lexie said, leading him into the dimly lit apartment.

He glanced around, taking in the dark décor accentuated by varying shades of gold. Heavy, closed draperies covered the windows and large paintings with brassy frames and matching sconces hung on the walls.

“Be it ever so humble…Grandma has lived here since she married my grandfather.” Lexie swept her arm around.

“Raised my son here. Lexie now uses his old room,” Charlotte said, joining them.

The photograph hadn’t done the older woman justice. She beamed happiness and radiated life. Everything about her was more. Her hair was redder, her makeup bolder. Her housecoat was colorful, more kimono than pajamalike, making him feel like he was facing Auntie Mame in the flesh. But his biggest surprise was the necklace around her neck. The necklace, which in person, looked exactly like his ring.

Coop hadn’t been able to sleep much last night and early this morning. While tossing and turning, he’d searched for a way to authenticate the ring without bringing the cold case to anyone’s attention. He’d finally figured out who to go to and, despite the early hour, he’d called in a favor.

A South African man Coop had met years ago was a highly respected jewelry appraiser. He’d also been a fence in his home country, something Coop had learned during an investigation. The tidbit of information wasn’t relevant to any case at hand, but it had led to a mutual understanding between Coop and said appraiser. Anything he heard about what was happening in the black market, he fed to Coop first.

Before Lexie even arrived earlier that morning, Coop had met him at his store and had the ring appraised. At least Coop had confirmation of the ring’s identity. Something he still had to share with Lexie when the time was right.

“I’m Charlotte Davis.” She grasped his hand, pumping it in a firm shake. “And you must be Sam Cooper, Hero, Bachelor and now my granddaughter’s fiancé!”

“Grandma, cut that out! I’ve been telling you all day we’re not engaged.” Lexie shot Coop an I told you so look, and, as if to prove her point, Lexie held out her left hand, revealing her ringless fingers to her grandmother.

“Well, I wouldn’t wear the ring out in public, either, if I were you. Too valuable.” In a not-so-subtle gesture, she fingered the gaudy piece of jewelry around her frail neck. “You have good taste, young man.” She winked at Cooper.

“She doesn’t take we’re not engaged for an answer,” Lexie said, her frustration mounting. “Coop, tell her we’re not engaged.”

“Can I get you two a drink?” Charlotte asked too quickly.

Coop shrugged. Obviously, the older woman didn’t want to hear it. “I’d love something to drink, Mrs. Davis.”

“Call me Charlotte. After all, we’re practically family!” She paused. Her golden eyes, so similar to Lexie’s, lit up. “Which means you can actually call me—”

“Charlotte!” Lexie jumped in before her grandmother could come up with a more familiar term.

The other woman inclined her head. “I suppose Charlotte will do for now. I’ll go get the champagne, so we can toast and celebrate!”

She darted out of the room and he caught a glimpse of her slippers, red with fur trim, which matched her dress. Housecoat. Kimono. Whatever it was she was wearing.

“She is a piece of work,” Coop said, truly admiring her spunk.

“I tried to get you out of it, but now that you’re here she’s reveling. And you promised to help me convince her we’re not engaged, so stop humoring her.” But Lexie grinned, finding her grandmother amusing despite it all.

“Does she try to make a permanent match with all the men in your life?” Coop asked, a stab of jealousy striking him in the heart at the thought.

“No. This is unusual even for her,” Lexie mused. “What can I say? You’re special and have been from the minute she saw you on television picking out the ring.”

Charlotte returned with three glasses of champagne on a small tray, balancing them with ease.

Once everyone held their glass, Charlotte raised hers. “L’Chaim.”

“That means, ‘To Life’ in Hebrew,” Lexie whispered.

“I didn’t know you were Jewish.”

She shook her head. “We’re not. Grandma’s best friend Sylvia is, and she picked up some Hebrew and Yiddish over the years.”

The toast seemed safe enough, and Coop touched his glass first to Charlotte’s, then to Lexie’s. “And to beautiful women and good company,” he added.

“He’s a keeper,” Charlotte said, nudging Lexie in the ribs. “Let’s move this into the kitchen. It’s time to eat!”

The kitchen was a brighter room than the rest of the apartment, cozy and comfortable. As she served, Charlotte chatted about everything and anything, from Lexie’s amazing Web design talent to her own attempt to learn how to navigate the Internet.

She’d served the food, a pale-looking meat loaf, gravy on the side, mashed potatoes and green beans, piling each plate with generous portions.

“What’s wrong with the meat loaf, Gran? Did you forget to season it?” Lexie asked, pushing the meat around her plate while eating the side dishes instead.

“I’ve been experimenting with lower-cholesterol foods. It’s ground turkey, not chopped meat,” the older woman explained.

Lexie narrowed her gaze.

Even through the dark frames on her glasses, Coop noticed the worry lines between her brows.