Joe moaned. He wanted Charlotte. He wanted her so damn bad he could taste her, and he always had.
Could it be that he’d fallen in love with her that day so long ago? It seemed ridiculous, but what else could explain the fact that every woman who’d entered his life since had always been subjected to comparison to her?
Was it simply the fact that she was the ultimate challenge? After all, she’d been the hottest woman he’d ever touched, a woman who refused to tell him her name and then burned rubber in her effort to leave him standing alone in a parking lot.
And then, thirteen years later, in her driveway.
Joe smiled, and the twitch of his mouth caused a lone tear to detour down the side of his neck. He swatted at it impatiently.
He’d always believed there was a reason for the way things happened in life, even though he may not know that reason for many years, if ever. He believed the big picture was sometimes just too big for mortals to see.
So there had to be a real good reason why he’d landed in some tiny town in Ohio only to find Charlotte. He couldn’t help but wonder if somebody up there was giving him a second chance.
Joe stood up and stretched. He padded downstairs to the kitchen in bare feet and rooted through the drawers until he found what he was looking for—six stubby white utility candles. He grabbed a plate from the cabinet and a box of kitchen matches and went out to the back patio.
He arranged the candles on the plate and lit them, watching their bright flames cut through the darkness. Then he said a silent prayer for his brother, his parents, and Steve, Reba, and Daniel—and threw in one for himself.
Chapter Nine
“I think he practices Santorini.”
“What the heck is Santorini?” Bonnie reached into the concession stand cooler for a Gatorade. “That’ll be one-fifty, sweetheart.” She took the money from a T-ball player who could barely see over the order window. “Have a good game.”
“I think I saw that movie—The Great Santorini!” Ned hollered from his post at the large stainless-steel grill. “I love Robert Duvall. Order up!”
He slid a paper plate across the counter to Bonnie, who picked up the cheeseburger and fries and carried it to the window. Then she laughed, turning suddenly toward both of them. “Now I get it! Charlotte, do you mean Santeria, the voodoo thing?”
Charlotte nodded with enthusiasm, counting out change for a five. “Yes! That’s it!”
“And, honey,” Bonnie added to Ned. “It’s The Great Santini. Santorini is a Greek Island.”
“I knew that.” Ned flipped a burger.
Charlotte finished counting out change and tilted her head toward Bonnie and whispered, “All I know is I saw him light a bunch of candles out on his pool deck last night, then mumble some sort of spell or something.”
“A spell?”
“Can I have some Big League Chew, Mrs. Tasker?” a small voice asked.
Charlotte peered out the window, saw another potential convert, and said cheerfully, “I made some delicious whole wheat fig bars and there’s no charge. Would you like one of those instead?”
The little girl shook her head with certainty. “No way.”
“Just a second then.” With a sigh, Charlotte reached into the bubble-gum bin and handed the bag through the window, taking the child’s money while resuming her conversation with Bonnie.
“Yes, a spell. He lowered his head over six little white candles and his lips were moving. It was scary. Between that and the gun, I’m thinking I should call the police.”
Ned’s head popped up. “What gun?”
“Uh—” Charlotte really didn’t want to make a big deal out of this, but she supposed it wasn’t a bad idea to let Ned know. “The night Hoover got loose I followed him into the Connors’ yard. He pulled a gun on me—told me he was a little paranoid about burglars.”
Ned’s eyebrow shot up and he stared at her. He didn’t look pleased.
“He put it away when he realized it was me.”
Ned nodded soberly and flipped the line of burgers on the grill.
Bonnie rolled her eyes heavenward. “I think Mr. Mills is going to get a visit from Sheriff Ned’s Welcome Wagon.”
“You bet your sweet patoot he is,” Ned mumbled.
Bonnie smiled at Charlotte. “So tell us, Charlotte. How is it you know so much about what your neighbor is doing at night behind a nine-foot privacy fence? You’re not spying on him or anything, are you?”
“You can go to women’s prison for that,” Ned offered helpfully.
Charlotte felt herself blush. The truth was she’d had trouble sleeping and was spying on Joe with Matt’s binoculars again, not that she’d ever come right out and admit it. She was scrambling to come up with some excuse when a customer appeared at the window. Charlotte spun around, happy for the distraction—for about one second.
“Hello there, Miss Vegetarian,” said Jimmy Bettmyer. He stuck his faded blond head through the window to greet Ned and Bonnie, who returned his hello.
“What can I get you, Jimmy?” Charlotte waited, order pad and pencil in hand, as Jimmy carefully considered the menu overhead—as if he didn’t know it by heart. The Minton Little League concession stand featured the same five grease-soaked fast-food choices season after season.
“I think I’ll try a number two with a Sprite,” Jimmy said loudly, then added under his breath, “and a big bite out of you, babe.”
She ignored him, ripping the order off the pad and sticking it in the little metal clip over Ned’s grill. “Chili dog, large fry,” Charlotte said, all business. She turned her back on Jimmy to fill his drink order.
With dismay, she noticed that Bonnie had become occupied with a group of players at the other window and wouldn’t be able to act as a deterrent to Jimmy’s antics. She was on her own.
“Order up!” Ned announced, and Charlotte retrieved the food and shoved everything toward Jimmy without making eye contact. He grabbed her hand before she could pull away.
“Meet me tonight,” he whispered.
“Get your hand off me,” she said.
“Ten. The Creekside. Just a friendly drink.”
Charlotte extricated her hand from his grip and glared at him. “Not in this lifetime.”
“I’m not giving up on you.”
Charlotte’s eyes flew wide as LoriSue appeared behind her husband, her blond brows knit in a frown. There was nothing she could do to prevent it from happening….
“Ten at the Creekside. See you there, babe.”
Then Jimmy turned, knocking the plate of food into his wife’s enhanced chest.
“You are such a complete weasel, Jimmy.” LoriSue’s eyes lanced Charlotte through the clear plastic of the window. “And you—nice. Real nice.” Then she turned and stomped off.
As Charlotte raced out the back door of the concession stand to catch her, Ned shouted, “Stay clear of those fingernails!”
Charlotte was panting by the time she reached LoriSue, already unlocking her BMW with the chirp, chirp! of her automatic door opener. “Please wait! Just a second!”
LoriSue looked over her shoulder, her face pulled tight with anger.
“Look, I swear there is nothing going on with—”
“Oh Lord, I know that,” she snapped. “And I’m sorry for implying there was.” She shook her head. “It’s all him. He does it all the time. I know it’s not you.”
Charlotte slowly approached, touching LoriSue’s arm. “I’m not going to meet him.”
She gave a stiff nod. “I know.”
“I never have and I never will.”
LoriSue laughed. “Well, I guess that makes you a boatload smarter than me, doesn’t it?”
“I’m sorry, LoriSue.”
She sighed heavily, picking chili off the front of her white silk wrap blouse. “Me, too.” Then she straightened her shoulders. “You know, I’ve been thinking. He can just have the damn house. I mean, I can find another one for God’s sake—it’s my job!”
Charlotte smiled.
“I can’t live like this anymore. The asshole can have it—it’s just bricks and wood. I need to get on with my life.”
Charlotte patted her arm. “Sounds like a good plan.”
LoriSue suddenly brightened. “In fact, I think I’ve already started getting on with my life.”
Charlotte was happy for her, happy to see her doing something positive, taking charge. “That’s great! What have you done?”
LoriSue locked her gaze with Charlotte’s and shook out her ultrablond tresses. “Made up my mind to go after Joe Mills, of course.”
The next afternoon, Charlotte sat at the kitchen table in the sunlight and scraped away at what was left of the half gallon of French vanilla. Under Hoover’s watchful eye, she slipped a spoonful of the cold, sweet comfort between her lips and wondered how she could possibly compete with LoriSue, the tight-skirt queen of Minton, Ohio.
But if LoriSue was going after Joe, there was no way she could just sit back and watch it happen.
Right?
She needed one more Joe-related encounter, that’s all. And she refused to let LoriSue Bettmyer stand in her way.
Charlotte took inventory of what she was up against. She had bare, short nails, and LoriSue had sexy long red ones. She hardly ever wore anything but jeans or shorts, and LoriSue dressed like Fuck-Me Barbie. She kept her racy thoughts locked away in her nightstand, and LoriSue just went out into the world and said what was on her mind and strutted her stuff like a liberated, modern woman.
Charlotte downed another spoonful, trying to ignore how Hoover’s eyes tracked every hand-to-mouth movement. He sat at her knee, licking his chops and drooling, and Charlotte couldn’t help but wonder if that’s how she’d appeared to Joe Mills the other night in the driveway. For the first time ever, Charlotte truly empathized with her dog.
“Aren’t we a pair, Hoov?” She set the carton down on the kitchen floor and let the dog lick away the dregs. She stared out the window and wondered what excuse she could possibly have to go over there and talk to Joe again, only this time sporting a pretty dress and dry hair?
She let her mind and gaze wander until she suddenly saw what was right in front of her—the window. She’d go over and inquire about the broken window! She wouldn’t even have to make up a reason to see him! And she’d wear something simple but lovely and she’d shave her legs and put on some mascara and she’d call this a do-over.
She had exactly three hours before she had to go pick up the kids, plenty of time to shower and dress and get over there with a couple hours to spare. She already knew what the two of them could do with two hours.
Charlotte used the blow-dryer and a round brush to put bounce in her hair. She dabbed on a bit of blush and a flattering pale pink lipstick. She selected a slinky spaghetti strap sundress in a buttery yellow that she’d worn to a banquet with Kurt a couple years before. She found the matching sandals in their original shoe box at the back of the closet. She didn’t have time to polish her toes, but if all went as planned, Joe wouldn’t be studying her feet.
She took a flirty turn in the mirror and liked what she saw. And she told herself that win or lose, at least she was giving it her best shot.
Charlotte walked downstairs, holding her head high, and exited from the front door. She could hardly believe that she soon might be tasting the one thing she’d been starving for all these years. And by God, she deserved it. She deserved one more taste. She was a good woman who followed all the rules. She deserved one more taste of Joe Mills.
She headed down the driveway, aware of the sexy click of her heels as she went.
In fact, maybe that’s all she needed—just one more taste. Maybe that would be enough to get him out of her system forever. Then the two of them could go on as neighbors. Normal, friendly neighbors.
She practiced rolling her hips as she walked.
God, how she wanted her slice of Joe. She couldn’t wait to sink her teeth into that big serving of melt-in-your-mouth man—
Charlotte stopped dead in her tracks. LoriSue was leaving Joe’s house, calmly making her way down the stone sidewalk.
“My God. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in a dress.” LoriSue looked Charlotte up and down. “Where are you headed?”
Charlotte’s mind went numb.
“Charlotte?”
“Just back from a new client interview.” Charlotte realized her answer was a bit rushed and loud, but it was the closest to normal she could do. Then she added, “And you?”
LoriSue smiled and rubbed a hand on her throat. “Just bringing Joe another one of those welcome-to-the-neighborhood gifts I mentioned.”
Charlotte stopped breathing.
LoriSue sighed dreamily. “So where you headed now?”
“Hoover escaped again.”
LoriSue laughed. “I don’t know why people have dogs. Well, good luck. Talk to you later.” She got into her BMW and pulled away.
Charlotte went home to change her clothes. She couldn’t get out of that ridiculous outfit fast enough.
“I have to breathe or I’ll turn blue and die,” Justin pointed out.
“Then breathe in silence, like a ninja.”
Justin closed his eyes and focused on the movement of air into his nose and out through his mouth. “How was that?” he asked.
“I can still hear you breathing.”
Justin frowned and looked at the dog in the pine needles between them. Hoover was now scratching and licking his hindquarters, his license tags tinkling, making enough noise to blow their cover.
“Well, at least I don’t lick myself,” Justin said.
The boys snickered for a few moments, then Matt flinched and held up his palm. “Shhh. Here he comes again! Give me the camera!”
Justin traded the Techno-Spy camera for the binoculars as they both watched the subject step out onto his porch, look left and right, grab the basket, then shut the door.
“That’s the fourth delivery this week,” Justin said. “Do you think they’re top-secret communiqués?” Matt asked.
“Looked more like pretzels to me.”
“So who keeps leaving those things?”
“Dunno.” Justin frowned. “But they seem to come while we’re in school. So it can’t be a kid, right?”
Matt raised an eyebrow at that comment. “Excellent point.”
“Unless they’re playing hooky.”
“True.”
“So it could be a kid or a grown-up,” Justin offered.
“Right, and since that’s the only two kinds of people in the universe, I think we need to narrow it down some.”
“Yeah.”
Hoover popped up from his nest in the pine needles, yawned, stretched, then trotted back toward the house.
“Got any more Skittles, dude?”
Justin rooted around in his left pants pocket and pulled out a crumpled pack and handed it over. “Don’t eat all the red ones. They’ve got special powers.”
“Get real,” Matt said, popping a handful of round candies into his mouth, along with a few stray pine needles that he had to pick off his lips.
“Really. If you eat enough, you can see right through girls’ shirts.”
Matt stopped chewing. “Says who?”
“My dad,” Justin said, smiling.
Matt’s eyes got big. “Wow. You think if I ate enough they’d work on Lisa Bertucci?”
Justin giggled. “I knew you had a crush on her.”
“Do not. I hate girls.”
“Liar.”
“Besides, she was there the morning I dropped my volcano on the sidewalk.” Matt sighed. “She thinks I’m a nimwad.”
Justin shrugged. “What do girls know?” He patted his friend’s shoulder. “Besides. I bet she doesn’t have anything worth lookin’ at anyway.”
“Maybe, but she sure smells good.”
A faint sound caused both the boys to freeze, then slowly turn their heads. Matt swallowed a mouthful of Skittles and pick
ed up the camera. Justin grabbed the binoculars.
“Dude,” Justin whispered as Matt clicked away. “Is he gonna kill us or what?”
The boys watched Mr. Mills take deliberate strides across the grass, machete in hand, heading right for them.
“Like a ninja,” Matt hissed, sending a pleading look toward Justin.
They watched as Mr. Mills suddenly veered off toward a clump of bushes between the utility shed and his privacy fence. He began slashing away.
“What the heck’s he doing?” Justin asked.
“Yard work?” Matt said hopefully.
“He looks royally pissed. Besides, that bush is in your yard!” Justin swallowed hard. “We’d better report this to Ned.”
The boys glanced at each other, scooted back on their bellies in the pine needles, then made a run for it.
Joe sensed the man’s presence long before he heard the polite cough, and looked up to see him straddling the property line between Charlotte’s yard and his own.
He was a stocky guy, on the short side, balding, with a smile that didn’t quite fit the serious look in his eyes. He was holding out his hand.
“Ned Preston, two houses down,” he said.
Joe transferred the machete to his left hand and wiped the sweat off his brow with his forearm. He reached out, and Ned’s hand gripped his tight—a little too tight for a friendly get-to-know-you visit.
Joe managed a polite smile.
“Joe. Joe Mills.”
Still clenching his hand, Ned Preston nodded toward the machete. “Word is you got a got a real nice collection of weapons over here.”
Joe pulled his hand away. Charlotte had obviously told him about the gun—he really was going to have to learn to be less antsy—and now he had to placate Dirty Harry here.
“I have a handgun. I’ve had some unfortunate experiences in the past.”
Ned nodded slowly. “Come from a bad neighborhood, do you?”
“The city. You know.”
“What city might that be?”
Joe shifted his weight and tossed the machete onto the ground. He put his hands on his hips and studied Ned Preston. Smart guy. Maybe a little too smart.
“Here and there. Out west. Washington, D.C., for a bit.”