She was ashamed to look too deeply into her heart, because she wasn’t the same woman who’d walked into this inn. She found it too easy to be with this charming man who promised honesty as easily as he guaranteed he’d be walking out the door.
He reached over and grabbed the green leather-bound folder from the nightstand and looked through the selection of late-night snacks.
“What are my choices?” she asked.
“Would you believe not much? There’s a cookie platter with assorted teas, or a vegetable platter with honey mustard or blue cheese dip, and a choice of colas. There’s also fresh seasonal fruit. Can’t imagine what that would be at this time of year, but one thing’s clear. We’re eating cold and nothing homemade.” He laughed. “So am I ordering you the vegetables?”
She raised an eyebrow, surprised he’d chosen wrong. “Guess you don’t know me as well as you think you do.”
“Now, there’s a challenge. So you want the fruit?”
She crinkled her nose. “Roman Chandler, what kind of women do you hang out with?” She shook her head. “Forget I even asked.”
He settled himself next to her. “Sorry, can’t do that.” He lifted her hand and began a slow, steady massaging of her palm. His touch was as seductive as his eyes were mesmerizing and blue. “The Chandler reputation’s way overrated.”
“Oh, really? You brothers don’t collect women?”
“I’m not saying they don’t line up for me.” His impish grin told her he was joking. “But I definitely turn them away. I’m getting too old for the revolving door.”
But despite the teasing upturn of his lips, she tossed a pillow at him anyway. “Tell me something. I don’t really remember your father. Did he have that same ‘women love him’ reputation? Is that what you three are living up to?”
He shook his head. “The only woman my father was interested in was my mother and vice versa.”
“If only my dad reciprocated my mother’s feelings, like yours did.”
He tipped his head back in thought. “You know, our mothers aren’t really that different.”
Charlotte couldn’t help it. She laughed. “You’ve got to be kidding.”
“Nope. Step out of your single-minded resentment of your father and take a look at something. He took off and your mother’s been waiting around ever since, yes?”
“Yes,” she said, completely unsure of where he was headed.
“And my father died and my mother never got involved with another man again. Until this week, but that’s another story.” That darn perceptive gaze met hers. “Nothing’s really different,” he said. “They both put their lives on hold.”
“I guess you’ve got a point.” She blinked, surprised to realize they had something that fundamental in common.
But nothing had changed for them—even if she had become more emotionally attached. Dammit. Their long-range goals were still disparate and far apart, something she’d best keep in mind during their time together, she warned herself.
Roman’s own words reverberated in his head. His mother had put her life on hold for what seemed like forever. Because she’d been so much a part of his father’s life, she’d been lost without him. Until he’d spoken his conclusion aloud, he’d never realized that his mother hadn’t moved forward.
“But at least Raina lived some version of happily ever after.” Charlotte’s voice interrupted his thoughts.
Her words gave him pause. Was that fairy-tale ending women wanted worth anything if the rest of their lives were spent in unhappy limbo? In his mother’s case, short-term happiness at the expense of long-term fulfillment? In Charlotte’s mother’s situation, chasing a fantasy that would never come true? He shook his head, neither choice appealing to him.
He’d watched his mother after his father died, the mourning, the withdrawal, and then the small steps back into the real world. But she’d never fully been what she was with his father, and she hadn’t tried to redefine herself either.
Her choice, he realized. Just as it had been his choice to take off and distance himself from not only his hometown, but his family—and the pain he saw in his mother’s eyes each time he was home. Especially in the beginning.
At that moment, Roman realized he’d been running from emotional attachment—the same way Charlotte was running from him. She feared the same pain she’d grown up seeing in her mother, day in and day out.
But making love to her had shown him that when it came to some things in life, there was no alternative. They were meant to be. Not just because he desired her but because he wanted to give her things she’d missed in life, the family and the love. How he’d accomplish that and still maintain the freedom he needed for his job and his life, he didn’t know.
He had a long road ahead of him—to prove to himself and to her that his lifestyle could satisfy them both. That their lives didn’t have to be a repeat of their parents’ mistakes but one of their own making.