She blinked and squinted, crinkling her nose as she took in her new location. “It looks like a farmhouse.”
“Actually, it’s a renovated dairy barn. It’s pretty secluded, with an incredible view of the Adirondack Mountains. We missed the sunset, but there’s no reason we can’t catch the sunrise.”
She took a step forward, obviously eager to see more.
“Hang on.” He grabbed their bags from the trunk. She’d packed light, something that not only surprised him, but in a ridiculous way made him feel like he could relate to her better. Or she could relate to him and his lifestyle in a way he wouldn’t have expected.
Unsure what to make of those feelings, he caught up with her instead. “It’s not a Scottish castle, but it’ll make you feel like you’ve left the real world behind. And I promise you won’t be disappointed.”
She turned to face him. “You’re perceptive and intuitive. As a reporter I’m sure it comes naturally. What I can’t figure out is whether this is for your benefit or mine.”
He knew better than to be insulted. Because she was ruminating on her father, she felt compelled to look for Roman’s ulterior motives. He understood and didn’t mind answering. “Getting out of town is for our benefit, taking you with me is for mine, and choosing this particular place was all for you, sweetheart.”
“You think you’ve got me figured out.” She bit down on her lower lip.
“I don’t?” He swept an arm out, gesturing to the mountain getaway. “This sudden escape doesn’t please you? Doesn’t this inn remind you of places you’d like to visit but haven’t had the chance?”
“You know it does. That’s obvious from you studying my apartment, or dissecting me with those reporter’s instincts. But that doesn’t mean you know everything. There’s plenty that’s still hidden.”
“And I can’t wait to uncover the rest of your secrets.”
A slow smile tilted her lips until it turned into a wicked grin. “So what are you waiting for?” She tossed the parting shot. Then she pivoted and started for the inn, the effect of her regal departure diminished by her teetering, high-heeled walk on the unpaved parking lot.
Charlotte’s time with Roman was, by agreement and necessity, a short-term affair. Affair being the operative word. As much as she liked confiding in him and listening to his comforting voice and understanding words, she didn’t want to waste what little time they had—time of undetermined duration—on talk.
Not when they had many more exciting, erotic things they could do. Things to give her memories to cherish and a way to prove she was her own person—stronger than her mother. She could take what she desired and walk away, instead of waiting for him to come back and make her life whole. She’d be whole on her own. No matter how much she’d miss him.
By the time she made it inside the converted farmhouse, unpretentiously named The Inn, excitement had become her sole companion.
They were greeted upon entering by an older couple. “Welcome, Mr. Chandler.”
“Roman, please.”
The woman with streaked gray hair and bright eyes nodded. “Roman it is. Do you know you look just like your father?”
He grinned. “So I’ve been told.”
“She knows your parents?” Charlotte asked, surprised.
“Mom and Dad came here on their honeymoon.”
He spoke in a matter-of-fact tone, but Charlotte didn’t find the information so cut-and-dried. He’d brought her to the place his parents had shared their post-wedding night. Wow.
“They most certainly did. I’m Marian Innsbrook and this is my husband, Harry.”
Charlotte grinned. “So that explains the name of this place.”
“Easy to remember in case folks want to come back,” Harry said.
Charlotte nodded.
Roman stepped beside her and placed his hand on her lower back. He branded her with his touch and the excitement she’d felt upon entering The Inn turned to pure unadulterated arousal. Warmth flooded her, a heaviness in her br**sts and a distinctive throbbing between her legs. All inappropriate for the time and place—but soon they’d be alone, and she intended to shed not just her clothing but her inhibitions.
As if oblivious to the havoc he wreaked on her body, Roman smiled at the Innsbrooks. “This is Charlotte Bronson.”
She managed an easy smile while she and Roman took turns shaking hands with the older couple. She even forced herself to look around and appreciate the Old World charm and atmosphere The Inn offered. Wood-beamed ceilings and paneled walls. Comfort and homey were the words that came to mind.
Empty was another word that ran through her head. There was no one else around. “Do you run this place by yourselves?”
Marian shook her head. “But it’s quiet this time of year. Though we’re an hour from Saratoga, we still experience the lull between winter getaways and racing season. I’m just glad we were able to fit you in on short notice.”
“And we appreciate it,” Roman said.
“Our pleasure. Now let’s get you settled.”
A short flight of stairs and a narrow hallway later, Marian Innsbrook led them into a dimly lit room. “In here’s the sitting area, up those stairs in the loft is the bedroom. There’s cable television, the temperature controls are over here.” She walked to the far wall and explained the in-room system. “Breakfast is served at eight and you can have a wake-up call anytime you’d like.” She started to step out of the room.
“Thank you, Mrs. Innsbrook,” Charlotte called after her.
“It’s Marian, and you’re welcome.”
Roman walked her out and seconds later the door shut with a resounding click. They were alone.
He turned, his back propped against the closed door. “I thought she’d never leave.”
“Or stop talking.” Charlotte grinned. “I really like them, though.”
“They kept in touch with my mother all these years. They even came to Dad’s funeral.”
“That’s so sweet.”
“They’re good people.” He shrugged. “And Mom and Dad came back every year for their anniversary.”
His gaze met hers, dark and compelling, staring until she was shaken. “I’m not sure what to say next,” she admitted.
He started walking toward her. “I can think of a lot better things to do than talk.” He paused in front of her.