Miss Charlotte Surrenders. Cathy Thacker Gillen
“Unfortunately for both of us, I don’t have time for this. I have to mow the lawn.”
“What?” Charlotte sputtered, looking as if she couldn’t believe he had gotten her all fired up and then just let her go!
Brett grinned. It did his heart good to know she was as reluctant to end the steamy embrace as he was. “You should know better than to play with the hired help, Miss Charlotte,” he teased. “But perhaps this will teach you a lesson,” he added with mock seriousness.
Charlotte flew at him with both fists. He caught her wrists before they could connect with his chest. “You are a dead man,” Charlotte said irately, struggling unsuccessfully to free herself. “Do you hear me, Brett Forrest?” she shouted. “A dead man!”
Brett laughed, enjoying more than ever the feel of her in his arms. “You sure are pretty when you’re in a temper, Miss Charlotte,” he drawled. And I sure would like to kiss you again.
From behind them came two soft, feminine ahems.
Face flaming, Charlotte stopped struggling abruptly and turned, as did Brett. Paige stood in the doorway beside a middle-aged woman with a sewing basket. It was obvious from the amused looks on their faces they’d seen just about everything. Brett didn’t mind, but Charlotte sure did.
“Are we interrupting anything?” Paige asked.
He took another look at Charlotte in the old-fashioned chemise and petticoats, her tousled hair and pink cheeks. “Nothing that can’t be continued later,” he promised with a sexy grin.
* * *
“SO HOW IS IT GOING so far?” Franklin asked Brett, long minutes later.
Brett held the phone to his ear as he paced the cottage. He knew he rubbed Charlotte the wrong way, and he was working hard on heightening her feelings of both apprehension and distaste. Adding desire to the mix had confused her even more, and that was good. The more he could distract her from thinking about Sterling, the better. “I don’t think the indefatigable Miss Langston is any closer to finding out who the real Stephen Sterling is yet,” he admitted. “But I also know she’s not about to give up. So maybe a preemptive strike is in order.”
Franklin chuckled. Brett could be very creative when it came to taking care of business. “Got anything specific in mind?”
“Aside from spying on her every chance I get?” Brett drawled, tongue-in-cheek.
“Yes.”
Brett frowned and tried not to think how pretty Charlotte had looked in the old-fashioned ladies’ underwear. He had come here to do a job and couldn’t leave until it had been accomplished. In the meantime, he would have a little fun with Miss Charlotte. “Maybe it’s time we set up a wild-goose chase for her,” Brett suggested finally. Something that would really get her going…in the wrong direction, of course.
“Sounds good,” Franklin said. “And in the meantime?”
“I’ll stay one step ahead of and behind her,” Brett promised.
“Won’t Miss Langston get suspicious if you’re always underfoot?” Franklin asked.
“Not if I sweep her off her feet.” Brett grinned, remembering their last kiss. “Besides, she thinks the nature of my interest in her is largely romantic.”
There was a pause at the other end of the line. “Are you romantically interested in Charlotte Langston?” Franklin asked bluntly.
Brett scoffed at the mere suggestion. “Hell, no. Nosy, spoiled Southern belles are not my type, you know that.”
“Mmm. Well, you just watch yourself, Brett. And remember who is investigating whom here. There’s a lot at stake and not just for Stephen Sterling.”
Brett didn’t have to be reminded of that. His future was riding on this, too. He smiled grimly. “Don’t worry, Franklin. I’ve got everything well under control. No matter how much it irritates her to have me around, Miss Charlotte Langston won’t make a move without me knowing about it.”
This was no time to be getting an attack of conscience, Charlotte told herself firmly as she dialed the warehouse number for Stephen Sterling’s publisher. She had every right as a member of the press corps to investigate him. Furthermore, she was only doing what someone else would eventually do, anyway. Therefore, she might as well be the one to get the credit for discovering who Stephen Sterling really was, and why he was so hell-bent on hiding from the world.
Her mind made up to see this assignment through to the end, Charlotte finished punching in the long-distance number.
“Author sales,” a chirpy voice on the other end of the line said.
Charlotte hated this part of her job, but it was necessary to be a little dishonest. So she crossed her fingers and began the ruse she hoped would lead her directly to Sterling. “This is Stephen Sterling’s private secretary. I’m calling because he has not received his author copies of the book that was published last month.”
“Those copies were shipped over two months ago,” the shipping clerk said, puzzled.
A guilty flush climbed from Charlotte’s chest to her neck as she pretended confusion. “Are you sure about that?”
“Yes. It says right here that the books were shipped to Joe Smith, Post Office Box 94332, Arlington, Virginia, 22210.”
“Well, that’s the address all right,” Charlotte said after she had finished copying it down.
“And you say the copies did not arrive?” the clerk on the other end persisted.
“No, they didn’t,” Charlotte fibbed. “Nor did Mr. Sterling get a phone call telling him the books had been sent as requested. Listen,” Charlotte said, injecting a harried note into her voice, “I have another call coming through, one I’m going to have to take. So if you want to look into this further, see what you can find out on your end and then call me back, that would be fine.”
“I’d be happy to do that.”
“You’ve got my name and phone number?” Charlotte persisted.
“Why don’t you give it to me again?” the clerk asked.
“Actually, this might be a good time to check what you’ve got on file in this area, too, just to make sure it’s correct,” Charlotte said. “So if you’d just read what you have on file—”
“No,” the clerk said firmly, sounding suddenly suspicious. “I think you had better tell me what your name and phone number is.”
There was no way she could do that. Disappointed her ploy hadn’t worked, Charlotte hung up the phone. Her dismay heightened as she glanced up and saw Brett lounging in the doorway to the library. His arms were crossed in front of him in a way that only drew attention to the broad musculature of his chest. From the way he was scowling at her, she knew he had heard enough of her conversation to realize she had lied in order to unearth more information on Sterling.
“There’s a place for little girls who tell lies to get their jobs done,” he drawled.
Charlotte had no defense for what she had done, so she took the offense, hoping to curb some of the embarrassment she felt at having been caught red-handed. “Why aren’t you out cutting grass?” she demanded.
Brett straightened and moved toward her. The look he gave her was direct and uncompromising. His teeth flashed in a knowing smile, and he offered lazily, “I decided I didn’t want to cut the grass, after all.”
Charlotte regarded him with resentment. “Want doesn’t come into this, Brett.”
He looked at her as if to say, Doesn’t it?
Charlotte