Chapter 10
A little after seven, Braydon paced his living room, feeling unusually nervous though he wasn’t sure why. There was no need to be nervous. He’d done this hundreds of times before, yet as the clock’s hands inched around its face, he felt his heart pound even faster in his chest. All he wanted was for her to walk through that door… Any minute now… Any second…
His cell went off, and he jumped. “Damn it, Quin,” he muttered when he saw who was calling. “Yes?”
“Well, hello to you, too,” Quin muttered. “Are you busy?”
“Just getting ready to entertain a client for dinner,” he lied. “What can I do for you?”
“This is a bit awkward,” his brother said, “but what are your intentions with Charlotte?”
Braydon gripped his cell harder. “I’m sorry, who?”
“Charlotte? The woman I proposed to. She said you and she spoke yesterday, and you called her today. I was at her place when you did, saw your number.”
Braydon felt a sudden flair of jealousy. “I was merely calling to see how she was doing. She was quite upset at the party,” he said, trying to keep his voice level.
“And that’s the only reason you called her?”
“Yes, of course. Why, are you worried that I’m going to try and steal your girl?” Because that’s exactly what I’m going to try and do—tonight, at least, for a few hours, Braydon thought as he smirked.
“I just want to make sure you’re not going to do something you will regret.”
Braydon frowned as he stood straighter. “Quin, you cannot make a woman marry you. You know that, yes? And you know pushing will only make a woman run very fast in the opposite direction. I urge you to be cautious that you do not overstep.”
“I know, I’m sorry,” he said, sounding incredibly sad.
Braydon rubbed his forehead as he glanced at the clock again. “Listen, my guest will be arriving soon, but why don’t I give Charlotte a call tomorrow and see where she’s at with you?” He would most certainly talk to her about Quin, but only to see if he had a chance. But a chance at what? Braydon kicked himself mentally as he waited for Quin to reply.
“I suppose that wouldn’t be the worst idea ever. Would you really do that for me?”
“For my brother, anything. Now I must be going. I’ll call you tomorrow evening.”
He hung up and tried to gain control of his emotions. What the hell type of game was he playing? Braydon needed a drink—or several—and headed to the bar when there was a knock at the door. He froze and glanced at it. He wasn’t ready to see her, but before he realized what he was doing, his feet had moved him to the door, and he pulled it open.
“Hi,” Charlotte said, a large smile on her face.
“Good evening,” Braydon said as his eyes roamed from her face down to her toes. “You look lovely.” He stepped back and motioned her inside.
“I wasn’t sure what to wear, so I hope this is all right.”
He took in the black sweater she wore—tightly clinging to every inch of her beautiful breasts—down to the dark jeans that hugged her assets. Braydon cleared his throat, hoping she didn’t notice the slight bulge in his pants as he quickly nodded and turned towards the dining room. “Perfect. Just a casual dinner, after all.”
“Good, that’s good,” she said. “So, I wasn’t expecting this from you.”
He frowned as he made them both martinis. “Oh? I take it my reputation has been found out.”
“Word gets around, yes. My friends didn’t recognize you Saturday night. They were a bit drunk.”
“And now they’ve told you to stay away from me before I use you up and toss you away with all the rest?” Even as he said it, he knew it sounded harsh and glanced over, expecting to see Charlotte looking angry or annoyed.
She was neither. Instead, she was laughing. “Yes, that’s pretty much what they said.”
“Yet you aren’t running for the door.”
He handed her a glass, and as she took it, she winked. “Or maybe I want to get used up tonight,” she said, quickly sipping her martini, her eyes wide.
Braydon smirked. She had not meant to say that, apparently.
“What I meant was, I’m just too curious,” she muttered quickly. “Want to see where this evening might lead.”
With you in my bed, Braydon thought.
They wandered to the living room, and Charlotte smelled the air. “What is that?”
“Lamb. I hope that’s all right. If not, I’m afraid Liam will be horribly put out.”
“Liam? Who is that?”
“His conscience,” a man said, and Charlotte turned. Liam emerged from down the hall. “Apologies on not greeting you earlier. Had some things to take care of. Liam… Very nice to meet you.” He bowed his head to her.
Charlotte nodded and smiled. “I hear you are the cook for this evening?”
“Ha! This evening. Oh, sweet lassie, I’m the cook every night.”
“I manage just fine on my own,” Braydon argued.
“No. The only thing you can make, sir, is breakfast, and that does not satisfy every meal.”
Charlotte smiled as Braydon rolled his eyes, and Liam headed into the kitchen, blue eyes shining with mischief. “You’re Irish, too, then? Your accent is beautiful.”
“Thank you. Gets a wee bit stronger after I’ve returned from the old country.”
“Ireland. I’d love to go there someday,” she said. “Can you tell me about it?”
“Don’t get him started,” Braydon said as he settled back into his armchair. Though he protested, he loved listening to Liam talk about their home. He had visited Ireland, of course, but sadly, he hadn’t been born there. It was like listening to his da tell stories, something he could do all day long.
“If the lady wishes to hear about the old country, then I find myself obliged to tell her,” Liam informed Braydon as Charlotte rose from the couch and went to sit at the breakfast bar. “Now then, where to start?”
***
Charlotte laughed so hard she thought wine would come out her nose. Braydon pounded the table with his fist, his face red with mirth as Liam finished regaling them with another story of home dealing with a very obstinate sheep and Liam being stuck up in a tree for hours on end—a sheep that he had apparently been trying to steal. He’d had a very interesting childhood, which made Charlotte want to visit the old country even more. Drinks had turned into dinner, and Braydon had asked Liam to join them at the table, something she could tell by the look on the red-bearded man’s face did not happen when Braydon had guests over.
“Oh,” Liam said as he wiped a tear from his eye, “those were the good old days.”
“How did you not get arrested?” Charlotte asked.
“Ah, it was a wee village. That, and I think me mother was sleeping with the local authority.” Liam winked, sending her into another fit of laughter.
After a few moments, the laughter finally settled down, and Charlotte pushed her plate away. “The lamb was delicious, Liam, really. You’ll have to share your recipes someday.”
“You like to cook?”
“When Milly lets me,” she said. “She’s our cook and housekeeper. And friend, but heaven forbid anyone else steps foot into that woman’s kitchen.”
“Hmm, Milly… Is she Irish?”
Charlotte shook her head. “Scottish, I’m afraid.”
“Never said there was anything wrong with a good Scottish woman.” Liam laughed and started to clear the table. “Shall I fetch a bottle of port, sir?”
Braydon nodded as he finished the last of his wine. “And I shall get a fire going in the hearth.”
Charlotte excused herself to use the restroom and retreated down the hall. She paused for a few moments as she listened to the two of them banter back and forth, yelling from the kitchen to the living room. She wasn’t sure she’d stopped grinning all night and certainly didn’t want to. This night was turning out quite differently from what she’d expected, and she had a feeling it was a mutual surprise.
She closed the door and stared at her reflection in the mirror. Her face was still red from all the laughter. At first, she’d expected to walk in the door that evening and skip dinner completely. But for some reason, Braydon was showing her a side of him most women did not get to see. Ever. He might have been a bad boy, might still be for all she knew, but there was so much more to the man than others seemed to give him credit for. Helen had texted her that afternoon, giving her a heads up to be cautious.
Her best friends had heard many rumors, such as Braydon used to have ties to the mob. Charlotte couldn’t see it, not in the man she’d just had the most perfect evening with. He’d been nothing but a gentleman, and she found herself forgetting the one-night stand and focusing only on the present with this man. With Braydon, a man who had thoroughly swept her off her feet.
There was so much more about him she wanted to learn, but worry over her mother’s situation and the relief Quin could bring crept back into her mind. There had to be a way to remedy the problem without forcing Charlotte to agree to an arranged marriage. She stared at her reflection long and hard in the mirror. Could she give up the lifestyle she’d grown accustomed to her whole life? She had never considered herself spoiled, but trying to think about life without Milly, with just her and her mother, made Charlotte cringe.
She finished up quickly in the bathroom and headed back into the living room.
Liam had disappeared, and Braydon sat on the couch, staring at the fire roaring in the hearth. He looked so content sitting there, as if he wasn’t the richest man in the whole city. Charlotte paused as her mind raced. Her mother would say that her duty was to her dead father and the plans he’d made for her. But everything else screamed that she needed to run in the other direction and never look back.
She stepped forward, and the floor creaked. Braydon turned and smiled. “Ah, there you are. I hope you have room. Liam makes the most delicious Irish whiskey cake. It’d be a shame for you to miss out on a piece.”
“I always leave room for dessert,” she told him and smiled, heading to the couch.
He motioned for her to sit beside him and held out a small plate with a slice of cake on it. They sat in silence, but it was far from awkward. Charlotte had never felt more comfortable in her life. She kicked off her shoes and pulled her feet up under her, enjoying the coziness of Braydon on one side and a nice warm fire in front. She finished the cake and settled back with the glass of brandy he offered her.
“I could sit like this all night,” she said.
“You could?”
She felt her face redden as Braydon watched her closely. He reached out a hand and took her open one. Charlotte felt her breath catch as he leaned over, took the brandy glass from her other hand, and kissed her. It was soft and gentle, and Charlotte sighed as she leaned into it. Her other hand cupped his face before running through his red hair. As the fire roared in the hearth behind them, Charlotte let herself get lost in the moment—such a simple moment really, but one which carried an undertone of immeasurable promise.
When the kiss ended, she thought he would pull her closer for more, but he surprised her. Braydon put his arm around her, pulled her close, and laid his head on top of hers. He was snuggling with her. Charlotte grinned as she settled into his side. This was certainly not the Braydon Keagan she’d been told about. And she really hoped he would stay this way.
***
Braydon’s eyes started to close as he felt Charlotte drift off beside him. Her breathing steadied, and soon, she was asleep, snoring ever so slightly. He chuckled, then stopped so he wouldn’t wake her. He had planned for the two of them to wind up naked in bed again, but this was certainly a new experience for him. He wasn’t even upset about it. The voice that had nagged him with whispers that he just wanted to have sex with her again was silent.
He readjusted so she could settle better on the couch, then smoothed his fingers through her long hair. It smelled of vanilla, and he breathed it in, content, for the moment, with his life. Too bad tomorrow was a workday. He wasn’t even sure what Charlotte did with her days. As far as he’d heard, she was a very well-kept woman, living on daddy’s money.
Braydon thought about their evening with Liam. He wondered if the old man had stuck around on purpose, trying to get Braydon to try something new on his dates. At first, he’d been annoyed, but he had to admit that the night had been perfect. If only the rest of the week could be the same.
Braydon thought about work tomorrow and what it would mean for his company having a mob man on the scene. Ronan had to be up to something. He just had to find out what and stop him before he ruined everything that had been left in Braydon’s care.
But that was tomorrow’s problem. Charlotte snuggled closer to him, and he focused on his current problem—what to do with Charlotte?