Roman wanted an answer to that as well.
“Let’s sit,” Rick said.
“Let’s not,” Roman muttered. He didn’t want to prolong their visit.
“It’s the panty thief, isn’t?” Charlotte asked, her voice rising. “He’s struck again?”
“She’s smart,” Rick said. “Did you know she was smart, Roman?”
“Smart aleck.” Charlotte laughed.
Roman rolled his eyes, turned, and headed for the living area. Apparently he was in for a sit-down with his cop brother, his other sibling, and Charlotte, not his lover or even his ex-lover . . . but his future wife. He refused to consider the ramifications if she refused him. Roman’s adrenaline began a steady pumping, nerves and acceptance warring for dominance. He could only imagine her reaction to his thoughts—but no way could he clue her in. Not yet. Not until he’d made her his in a way she couldn’t deny.
He lowered himself onto the butter-soft flowered couch. “What’s up?” he asked when they were all seated.
“Charlotte’s right. We’ve had another break-in.” Rick broke the silence first.
“And I’m going to press on it in the morning,” Chase said.
Roman nodded. He knew his older brother couldn’t keep another theft under wraps. That he’d done it at all was out of respect for the police and their need to investigate without tipping their hand.
Charlotte leaned forward. “Please tell me they didn’t steal the exact same brand.”
Rick nodded. “Jack Whitehall isn’t too thrilled about the brand choice either.”
“Frieda’s pair?” Charlotte placed her head in her hands and groaned. “I only just finished making them. We mailed those to her house a few days ago.”
Roman picked up on something Rick had said. “What’s got Whitehall so upset, other than the obvious fact that his house was robbed?” Why would the older man give a damn what brand had been taken?
“Well, as far as Jack knew, his wife favored plain, utilitarian white,” Rick said.
“Frieda’s pair was white,” Charlotte said, in obvious defense of her customer.
“White and sexy,” Chase clarified. “We left them arguing over who she planned to wear the panties for.”
“She bought them for her husband’s seventieth birthday surprise,” Charlotte muttered. “Leave it to a man to draw all sorts of wrong conclusions.”
“Hey, go easy on the gender, babe,” Roman said and she slugged him in the gut with her elbow. He let out a grunt. At least the pain gave his body something to focus on other than his desire. And when the pain subsided, Roman turned to taking in his surroundings as a distraction from her luscious scent. He ran his hand over a glossy coffee table book that had seen better days.
“So that’s three robberies total . . .” she said.
“Five.”
That number caught Roman’s attention.
“Five?” he and Charlotte asked at the same time.
“Three occurred tonight alone. While the entire town was at the St. Patrick’s Day dance, some guy was out stealing women’s panties.”
“Who would do something so . . . so . . .” Charlotte rose from her seat, and, sensing her frustration, Roman didn’t try to stop her. “So juvenile? So stupid? So perverted?” she asked.
Rick snickered. Roman had no desire to relive his youth in front of Charlotte. “Well, we can narrow down the list of suspects by knowing who we all saw at the dance.”
“There’s one problem,” Rick said.
“What’s that?”
“The timing won’t work. The last robbery took place around ten-thirty. Whitehall chased the guy into his backyard, but he was slick and made for the small stretch of woods. Then Whitehall’s asthma kicked in and the old man collapsed.”
“Damn,” Roman muttered.
“Exactly. We know it’s someone with good stamina. And if he hit two houses before ten-thirty, on different streets, far apart, he had plenty of time. Collectively we don’t know a damn thing. I left the party around nine forty-five, Chase never made it because he was working, and according to witnesses, you, little brother, took off by nine forty-eight.”
“Something Whitehall made certain we knew,” Chase said.
Apprehension settled in Roman’s gut. “Why?”
Charlotte stopped her pacing in front of where Chase sat in her oversized club chair. “Yes, why?”
Chase pinched the bridge of his nose and Roman knew he was in deep shit. “The old man was reminded of a certain prank Roman played a long time ago.”
“A long, long time ago,” Roman muttered.
“When he was juvenile and stupid,” Rick said, picking up on Charlotte’s chosen words.
“But not perverted,” Chase said with a grin.
“The panty raid,” Charlotte murmured. “It’s been so long I’d forgotten.”
“I wish everyone had.” Roman shot his brothers a nasty look.
“Still, why would Whitehall dig up an old stunt like that now?” she asked.
Roman rubbed his hands over his eyes. “Because the sleepover was at Jeannette Barker’s, but the panties I snagged—”
“And hung from the rearview mirror,” Rick supplied ever so helpfully.
“Belonged to Terrie Whitehall,” Chase finished. “Who came racing into her parents’ home tonight just as we were leaving.”
Damn, how had Roman forgotten that? All the while he’d been talking to the prissy bank teller tonight and it’d never crossed his mind that he’d once stolen her underwear. “So when Terrie heard what was taken from her mother, she decided I had to be the culprit?” Roman asked with a disbelieving shake of his head.
“No, she just mentioned she’d seen you storm out of town hall. Unfortunately, she wasn’t the only one who saw you leave.” Rick rose and folded his arms over his chest. “Jack Whitehall fingered you as a possible suspect.”
Roman couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “That’s a crock of—”
“I agree, but once an accusation’s been made, I have to investigate.” In his best law enforcement stance, marred only by the half grin on his face, Rick turned to Roman and said, “Mind if I ask where you went after leaving town hall tonight? And if anyone can vouch for your whereabouts?”
Charlotte opened and closed her mouth in disbelief. Chase burst out laughing.