She cocked her head to one side. “Okay, then, I’ll rephrase. I want to, but I can’t.”
He still gripped her forearms with both hands and the desire to make love to her—hard, cold ground be damned—was overwhelming. “Give me one reason why not, and make it a good one.”
“Because my mother left a message on my answering machine. She said she’d meet me at the baseball field. She almost never comes to town events and now we’re talking two in one week. I have to be there.”
The regret in her eyes was enough to satisfy him. For now. “I didn’t think you could come up with anything compelling enough. You did.” He released his grasp. His body wasn’t thrilled, but his heart won out. He wanted to give her what she desired, in this case seeing her mother. He just wished it wouldn’t cause her pain. “You haven’t spoken to her since you’ve been back?”
Charlotte shook her head. “We played phone tag.”
Then she definitely didn’t know about her father. “Charlotte …”
“Come.” She grabbed his hand. “Let’s go find my mother, catch the game, and if you’re lucky, I’ll let you catch me afterward.” She laughed, and before he could say another word, she took off running.
With a groan, he ran after her, figuring he could just be there to minimize the damage when the shock came.
* * *
Charlotte ran, then glanced over her shoulder and laughed. Thanks to her quick dash, she was light-headed. Of course, Roman’s kiss had much to do with her dizzy state, but her escape had been born of pure self-preservation. She didn’t care how far from the baseball field they were, everyone would take one look at her and figure out what they’d been doing. So the less she did under the bleachers, the better as far as she was concerned. Until later. Then they could pick up where they left off and do whatever they wanted.
The thought sent tingles of anticipation up her spine, arousing every nerve ending she possessed, bringing a stinging flush to her cheeks. A quick glance over her shoulder, and she realized Roman was walking behind her at a leisurely pace. He grinned and waved, then got sidetracked by Rick, who grabbed him on the shoulder.
Charlotte slowed her steps, and turned back to walk right into her mother. A glowing version of her mother, from her made-up face to her bright smile and twinkling eyes.
“Mom!”
“Where are you coming from in such a hurry?” Annie steadied her with a hug before letting go.
“I’m … I was …”
“Making out under the bleachers with Roman.” Her mother reached a hand up and brushed her knuckle over Charlotte’s cheek. “I recognize the signs. Your father and I used to do it all the time.”
A protest rose to her lips. Charlotte didn’t want to accept that anything about her feelings for Roman was similar to Annie and Russell. Not even something as light and fun as acting like teenagers.
“So what brings you out tonight?” Charlotte asked.
She glanced around, looking for Dennis Sterling, then eyed her mother with curiosity. “Or maybe I should ask, who brings you out tonight?”
From the corner of her eye, Charlotte noticed Beth waving wildly in the distance. If Beth was that hungry, she should just eat without waiting. Charlotte signaled back with one finger, indicating she’d be another minute or so.
Annie sighed. “I should have known I couldn’t keep a secret in this town.”
Charlotte turned back to her mother. “Apparently you can, because I haven’t a clue what you’re talking about.” The only thing Charlotte did know was that her mother had a high-wattage smile and an easy laugh she hadn’t seen in way too long. When Charlotte ran into Dennis, she’d plant a huge kiss on him herself.
She pulled her mother into a tight hug. As she inhaled, a beautiful scent Charlotte didn’t recognize teased her senses. “Perfume and makeup,” she murmured.
“I hope you’ll greet me with the same enthusiasm, Charlie.”
That voice, using that name. Charlotte stiffened and dropped her arms, backing slowly away from her mother. Betrayal settled like lead in her stomach. Charlotte should have known better than to think her mother had allowed herself to be interested in anyone other than her absentee husband, Russell Bronson.
She turned and faced the man who casually walked in and out of her life on his own schedule. He was as good-looking as ever, dressed in khakis and a navy pullover sweater. His hair was neatly combed, with more gray than she remembered. His face offered a few more lines, but he’d aged well. And looked happy.
Unlike her mother, Charlotte had no doubt his moods didn’t change depending upon whether or not he was with Annie. But her mother’s mood, actions, and even how she looked hinged on whether Russell was in town. And when he took off again.