The Bachelor (Chandler Brothers 1)

“What good would it have done to tell? He’s a harmless old man who was looking out for me. I’m nice to him, so he figured he’d drum up interest in my business. Roman being blamed was completely unplanned.”

“But beneficial.” Roman saw the humor in the situation even if Rick didn’t. His high school prank benefited Samson’s cause.

“What he did was illegal,” Rick pointed out. “Or did you lose sight of that?”

She jerked her hand out of Roman’s and placed her hands on her hips. “Tell me who got hurt. And then tell me who will benefit by hauling the poor man in for anything. It’s over now. I promise. He won’t do it again.”

Roman leaned close and whispered in her ear. “You probably shouldn’t make promises you can’t keep, sweetheart. You have no control over the man.” No more control than Roman had over his body now that he’d inhaled her delicious scent and those long strands of tousled hair had tickled his nose and cheek, arousing him.

It was time his brother made a quick exit, Roman thought. “She’s right and you know it, Rick. You aren’t doing anyone justice if you prosecute the guy.”

“He won’t do it again. Please?” Charlotte asked in a soft, pleading voice.

“Argh. Fine. Since I don’t have a witness, I’ll lay off Samson, but if this happens again—”

“It won’t,” Charlotte and Roman said at once. Roman assumed they’d be making a joint trip to visit the “duck man” and make sure he understood the break he’d been given.

“And since Samson went to the trouble of replacing the underwear in order to exonerate Roman during his absence, you never saw Roman in town tonight, right?” She said in a determined voice. “The first time you’ll have seen him since he left over a week ago is—”

“Twenty-four hours from now, when I knock on your door,” Roman decided. “Until then, we’re incommunicado.” He put his palm on Rick’s back and shoved him toward the door. “If anyone asks, Charlotte’s got the flu.”

“I don’t believe this,” Rick muttered as he took a step into the outside hall.

“You’re a good man, Rick Chandler,” Charlotte called out to him.

Rick turned. “The things I do in the name of love,” he said, and disappeared down the steps, muttering to himself the entire way.

The next twenty-four hours. The words reverberated in Charlotte’s brain as she shut the door behind Rick and turned to face Roman. “Dare I ask where you plan on hiding out for the next day?”

Twenty-four hours, she thought once more. A long, long time for two people to remain incommunicado. Alone, together. Was that all the time they had left? Or did Roman have something different in mind?

“Your bed was pretty cozy. Of course, it would be more cozy if you were in there with me.”

Once again her heart picked up a frantic rhythm. “Tell me about Washington.”

He held out his hand, and next thing she knew, he led her back into the bedroom until they were comfortably settled on her frilly double bed. As comfortable as she could be with sexual awareness and anticipation humming between them and a soft mattress beckoning.

“Washington’s hot and humid already. It’s a great place to live. Fun, upbeat.”

“Are you planning on switching your home base? Leaving New York City for Washington, D.C.?”

“The job offer was for an editorial position, but then I wouldn’t have the freedom—”

“To travel?” she guessed, sensing by his tone he’d turned the well-known paper down.

“Yup. I want to be able to work from a laptop. Editorial is too much desk-sitting and I’d need to be available for the people working under me.”

She gnawed on the inside of her cheek. “I can see where being stuck in D.C. wouldn’t suit you. You being used to world travel and huge stories and all.”

“I’ve gotten used to you.” Taking her by surprise, he brushed one finger down her cheek. “I can’t very well be stuck behind a desk in D.C. if you’ve got a business to run here.”

She was confused and frustrated and hopeful at the same time. Most of all, she was sick of him talking in circles without making a point she could grab on to. In a move that shocked even her, she managed to take Roman down, pinning his shoulders onto the bed and straddling his waist. “Let’s try this again, and try English this time. Did you or did you not take the job?”

He stared at her wide-eyed, obviously amused and, from the feel of his erection between her thighs, very aroused. “I didn’t take the editorial job.”

She picked up on his subtle nuance. “Which job did you take?”

“The one for op-ed columnist. They were very impressed with a recent piece of writing I’d done while home, a slice-of-life that showed them I can cover every angle. I resigned from the AP and I can now work primarily from home, while commuting on occasion to D.C. And taking vacations to exotic parts of the world when we feel like it.”