Chapter 2
Ethan Archer woke up with the words of his good friend and company VP echoing in his head. You’re wallowing, E. Standing still in ankle-deep water. It’s past time you started swimming again.
That conversation during their return flight from Paris wasn’t the first time John had brought to Ethan’s attention that he needed to move on with his life. Michelle had passed four years before, and John had been singing that same song fairly often in the last two years.
With the intention of taking a run on the beach after dropping Wells at school, Ethan dressed in nylon shorts, a T-shirt, and running shoes. Then he brushed his teeth and smoothed a hand over his hair, inspecting himself in the bathroom mirror.
Forty coming closer, he thought with a grimace.
Some days, when the grief descended like a shroud, he felt nearer to eighty.
Turning off the thought, he left his room, his gaze landing on the half-open door across the hall. It led to a guest suite, the space used by the butler when Ethan was away overnight. He crossed to it and glanced inside.
Not surprisingly, there was no physical sign of Charlie’s presence now that she was back in the detached cottage that was her own quarters. The bed’s coverlet was smooth, the pillows plumped. Neither gave away whether the last occupant slept soundly at night or whether her slim body tossed and turned. He could imagine her there, though, her shining brown hair unbound, her arms thrown overhead as she dreamed away.
As she dreamed of—
Guilt gave him a sudden pinch, and he reined in his imagination. He had no business contemplating his butler’s inner life, let alone picturing her in a bed.
Instead, he walked on to his son’s room and peeked inside.
Wells slept sprawled across his mattress, one hand clutching the bear Charlie had tucked in with him the night before. Ethan smiled as love for the child filled his chest, a balm to his broken heart. Without Wells, he didn’t know where he would be after losing Michelle. Their boy had become his purpose for living.
Something else that his friend John censured. You need a life that includes adults and adult pursuits.
When Ethan had opened his mouth, John had shot a finger at him. Work doesn’t count, he’d said.
Ethan had sighed and wished they’d booked seats in separate rows. By adult pursuits, you mean…
Sex, John had affirmed. You should start with that.
On another sigh, Ethan headed downstairs. He stood by the windows a long moment, appreciating the tranquil view of Santa Monica Bay. It resembled his life, he decided. After watching his wife lose her battle with cancer, after four years of grappling with grief, most of the time he managed to maintain a certain level of calm.
He could almost hear John’s snort. Buddy, you’re in need of a little upheaval. Or maybe you just need to get laid.
Shutting down the imaginary conversation, he moved to Wells’ homework table and shuffled through the piles of papers that needed his attention. His boy was in second grade! He glanced over at the framed photo of Michelle propped on a nearby shelf.
“You should be here to see this, hon. That tiny newborn we picked up from the hospital is now a little guy who can read, write, and work all the remotes around the house.”
Michelle’s infertility had been a source of despair that had come to an end when they arranged for a private adoption. She’d had a year-and-a-half of unfettered maternal bliss before her cancer diagnosis. Even through that and the brutal treatments, she’d found joy in parenting their son.
“Wells thinks about you every day,” he added. “We both do.”
Only then did Ethan become aware that someone had entered the adjacent kitchen on silent feet. Charlie, her sleek hair held back in a ponytail, her slim, tanned legs revealed beneath the hem of a sleeveless shirtdress. It wasn’t too short, but because of her long limbs, her bare skin seemed to go on forever. And always polite, Charlie pretended not to notice that he’d been talking out loud—to an empty room.
“Don’t mind me,” he said. “We old guys mutter to ourselves on occasion.”
Then he winced, vanity instantly wishing he’d not brought up age. Nearing forty sucked.
“You’re not an old guy,” she said mildly, opening the refrigerator and pulling out half a watermelon.
“Older than you,” Ethan said and then winced again. It sounded like fishing.
And true to form, his well-mannered butler took the bait. “Not so much.”
Hah. He had almost a decade on her.
“I’ve dated men your age and more.”
“You have?”
She made a non-committal sound as she began slicing the fruit into cubes.
Ethan cleared his throat, unable to stop his next question. “Are you dating anyone now?”
One glance from her blue eyes had him backtracking.
“Sorry, sorry,” he said. “None of my business.”
But because he’d put the question out there, he couldn’t get it out of his head. Their Charlie, with her unflappable manner and elegant face, dating some old fart. Or worse—a beach dude. Or much, much worse, one of those old beach dudes with a mat of graying chest hair and a belly hanging over his ratty board shorts.
Ethan frowned. Charlie shouldn’t be dating at all.
Then he came alert to his thoughts. Why was he suddenly so interested in Charlie’s social life? It must be the swing of that ponytail as she moved. The roundness of her ass that was merely hinted at beneath the dress. The small, perfect rise of her breasts that he couldn’t help noticing when she was headed to the beach in a swimsuit.
Damn. He shouldn’t be thinking of her ass. Or her breasts. Definitely not about her sweet, bow-shaped lips and what they might taste like.
With a hand to his forehead, Ethan closed his eyes. This was heading south, fast, same as the blood in his veins.
“Are you all right?” Her voice and her cool hand on his arm had him flinching back.
“Jesus.”
“I didn’t mean to startle you.” She held up a mug of coffee.
He took it and put the heated surface right over the spot where she’d touched him, trying to scald away the memory of it.
Her brows came together over her incredibly blue eyes. They reminded him of some kind of flower—bluebells, he thought. This close, she smelled flowery too, a light, fresh fragrance with an undertone of spice.
Like spring, or maybe summer, while he was impending winter. Okay, maybe just early fall.
Yet still fascinated by her.
Damn.
He stepped back. “You should take some time off. Now that I got that deal done, I’ll be around a lot more.”
“Time off?”
“A vacation.” In the near year she’d been with them, she’d only gone out of town once. She and another woman she knew from butler school had traveled to Hawaii. She’d come home with a golden tan and a special island blend of sunscreen that smelled of coconuts and nakedness.
He’d blessed the day he’d glimpsed the empty bottle in the trash.
“I don’t know,” Charlie said now, a little frown tugging down the corners of her lips. “I’ve volunteered to organize the book fair. It’s a big job.”
“I’ll help,” he offered. “Then you can take off for a few days.”
She didn’t look convinced. But he thought it might be best to put some distance between them for a short while. So he could put the kibosh on the strange thoughts that kept popping up in his head.
“You could visit your family,” Ethan suggested.
That had her moving back. She returned to the kitchen, the long granite island now a barrier between them. “We’re not close.”
“Oh.”
What else could he say? The circumstances were not known to him. When a young woman had joined his household, he’d gone out of his way to keep their conversations on a strictly professional basis.
The fact was, when he went seeking a domestic manager, he’d envisioned an older woman, grandmotherly and staid. But Charlie came with glowing recommendations, and he’d known instantly upon meeting her that Wells would take to her levelheaded nature and genuine warmth. Then when the nanny he employed as well started showing up late or not at all, he’d had no qualms about adding Wells’ care to Charlie’s list of duties—she’d insisted.
And he’d given a hefty increase to her salary.
But kept their own interaction impersonal.
It was best that way, he thought, just as the sound of small feet had him turning. He grinned, the sight of his sleepyhead son irresistible. Striding to the boy, he swung him up in his arms.
“Cowboy!” he said, by way of greeting.
“I don’t wanna be that anymore, Dad.”
“Firefighter.”
“No.”
“Police officer.”
Wells shook his head.
“Circus clown?”
The boy shuddered. “No way. I’m going to be a paleontologist.”
Ethan pretended befuddlement. “What is that? A guy who pals around with onts?”
“No!” Wells started laughing. “A dinosaur guy!” He wiggled to get free of his father’s hold and skipped into the kitchen to stop in front of Charlie. “Did you hear what he said?”
“I did.” She held out a bite of watermelon which she popped into the boy’s mouth, then she glanced at Ethan, her eyes that bright, bright blue that felt like a flame licking over his skin. “Your dad’s silly.”
And old, Ethan thought, though I’m reacting to you like a teenager. He turned away in order to sign those stacked-up forms. “We better get cracking, kid, or we won’t get you to school before the tardy bell.”
By the time Ethan dropped off his son, he was smiling with the enjoyment of being in his boy’s company. Despite what John said, Ethan thought he could be happy enough for the next forty years by being Wells’ dad alone.
He’d had his shot at that other kind of lifetime love.
Then he went for his beach run and returned to his house pleasantly tired. In the shower, he leaned back against the tile and closed his eyes, letting the hot water beat against his shoulders and run down his chest. Nirvana.
After a few minutes, he filled his palm with shower gel. His hand slid over his pecs and ribs and then moved to his cock.
Stifling his groan, he let his head fall back, and he rubbed the stiff shaft, then circled the head, his thumb brushing over the crest. The atmosphere didn’t need any more steam, so he used his free hand to turn off the spray while the other kept stroking. During the past four years he’d often found sexual relief on his own like this, the act perfunctory, the pleasure brief.
But now, instead of merely feeling the physical sensation of a deliciously rough tug and a long, hard pull, his mind joined in. This time, he imagined it was another’s hand on him, a woman’s hand. She gripped him, moving her fingers up and down his length, her others sneaking between his thighs to cup his balls.
His chest heaved, and he squeezed his eyes tighter shut as his imagination had her on her knees, her mouth on him now, wetting his hard flesh with lavish strokes. Her tongue moved up to tease the slit in the head, and he reached down to caress her soft hair, encouraging her to continue. She moaned, and suddenly he needed more. Wrapping his fingers in her hair, he pulled her off his cock, the audible pop as it came clear of her mouth as carnal as anything he’d ever heard. Then he directed her to stand up with another tug of her hair, and she rose to her feet, her wet and naked body against his. Eyes still closed, he palmed one of her breasts and caressed the tightening nipple.
He began to rub himself harder, though in the fantasy her hand was back on his aching cock. She was moaning again, and he bent his head, wanting to taste the sound of it on his tongue. But before his lips could meet hers, his orgasm took over. It shot from his heels to circle his balls. They drew tight to his body, and then heat and promise pulsed up his shaft. He half-bent, belly hollowing, as semen spurted from him, and his whole body shook with the power of it.
As the climax began to fade, in his fantasy he opened his eyes. Charlie’s big blues were slumberous and her elegant face flushed as she stood before him, her bare body dappled in water droplets. His cock surged with a final gush of pleasure.
Then Ethan fell back against the tile, panting. Shit. Shit.
Maybe John was right. Ethan required something new in his world. Not a naked Charlie, God no, but…
Ethan definitely needed to get laid.
Back at the house after the second day of school, , Charlie shuffled through the volunteer sheets for the book fair and half-listened as her visiting friend Liz chattered. Wells and Liz’s son Jake were on the beach below, kicking around a soccer ball on the sand. Liz’s daughter Rosalie sat in a chair on the deck beside her mother and Charlie, occupying herself with crayons and a coloring book.
“…and now I have this terrible craving for raspberries,” Liz said, placing her hand over the small swell of her stomach.
Charlie frowned at the Wednesday sheet and all its blanks.
“Strawberries,” she said absently.
“What’s that?” Liz asked, a line digging itself between her eyebrows.
“Oh.” Charlie cleared her throat. “For a friend of mine it was strawberries she hungered for during her pregnancy. In yogurt, smoothies, chewing gum. You name it.”
“It could be worse, that’s for sure,” Liz said, nodding. “I know someone who wanted brownie mix straight out of the box…dry.”
They shared a grimace.
“I wonder what Piper Taylor craved,” Liz continued. “Cactus spikes? Lemon pith? Did you see the way she was hovering around the volunteer table this afternoon, sending out her mean-queen vibes?”
“It’s like she’s trying to doom the event. For sure she’s not offered a single volunteer hour.”
“I told you. She doesn’t like you.”
“Which is ridiculous—”
“When Serafina was in kindergarten, Piper’s husband ran off with the nanny. Before Wells came to the school. Before you became Ethan’s butler.”
“Oh.” Reluctant sympathy rolled through Charlie.
“It was a huge scandal at the school. Kids heard about it through their parents, and Piper’s older child —he was eight at the time—dropped out of soccer and Scouts because of it.”
“Poor boy.”
“Yeah, you’d think Piper would have learned a little humility from the situation. Instead she tries to belittle everyone else.”
“Putting other people down to make herself feel good,” Charlie said. “I talk to Wells about how destructive that is.”
Liz smiled. “You’re a good mother figure to him.”
“I’m not his mom,” Charlie said quickly, glancing over her shoulder in the direction of the photograph inside. “His mother is Michelle.”
Her friend lowered her voice. “And his dad is the oh-so-yummy Ethan.”
“Liz!” Charlie said in scandalized tones.
“Yummy Etan,” tiny Rosalie interjected, her attention on the page where she scribbled orange circles over an elephant’s face.
Liz chuckled. “Even Rosie knows.” Leaning closer to the Charlie, she pinned her with a stare. “I dare you to say you haven’t noticed.”
Charlie hoped the heat on her face wasn’t an answer in itself. “Let’s talk about something else. He’s due back home any time.”
“Then I better get to the good stuff.” Her friend dug into the purse at her side to pull out an envelope. “Ta-da!”
“What is it?” Charlie raised her brows and took the proffered piece of stationery.
“That gift certificate from my sister’s spa chain to put in the volunteers’ reward raffle.”
Charlie slipped it out and examined the text. “Excellent. A coupon for $50 in services. That’s so generous of her.”
“Well…” Liz twirled one of her blonde locks around her finger. “She’s prepared to be even more generous.”
“Oh?”
“For a…kind of price.”
Uh-oh. Charlie narrowed her eyes. “What kind of price?”
“She wants you to give Ethan her phone number.”
Liz said it so fast it took a moment for Charlie to unpack the sentence. “Liz—”
“You’ve met her. You know she’s pretty.”
“She’s a stunner.”
Liz beamed. “And smart and successful. But it’s been a dry spell for her, and she caught a glimpse of Ethan at one of the boys’ playdates. She thought maybe you could fix her up with him.”
Charlie’s mouth fell open. “I can’t go around handing women’s numbers out to him.” At the thought, she felt…horrified. As far as she knew, since she’d come to work for him Ethan hadn’t dated. Though what he did on his frequent business trips…
This whole line of conversation made her want to squirm. “Why don’t you do it yourself, Liz?”
“It would be better coming from you,” her friend said, picking up Rosalie’s discarded crayons and putting them in the box. “Come on, baby,” she told her daughter. “It’s time to go home.”
She raised her voice, calling for Jake. As the boy ran up the steps, Liz looked over at Charlie. “Three more gift certificates.”
Charlie sputtered. “It’s…weird, telling him whom to call.”
“I don’t see why,” Liz said, shepherding her children toward the front door with Charlie following behind. “You recommend restaurants, car services, barbers. What’s so different about this?”
“It’s…it’s a woman,” Charlie said, just as Ethan appeared from the direction of the garage.
Liz sent the man a winning smile, then transferred that beam of sunshine to Charlie. “Why don’t you let Ethan decide if it would be worth the cause? Book Fair has all those empty volunteer spots…” Then she sashayed out the door.
A quizzical expression on his handsome face, Ethan looked to Charlie. “What was that about?”
“Oh, nothing,” Charlie said. “Liz being Liz.”
Ethan trailed behind her. “Where are you running to?”
She swallowed to lubricate her dry throat. “Time for Wells to study his spelling words. Test tomorrow. Quiz tonight.”
“I got it,” he said. “Is the packet in his backpack?”
“On the table,” she said. “Though I can handle it while I make dinner.”
“We’ll do it together,” he said. “The three of us.”
“Awesome.” The three of us. Charlie wiped her face clean of any expression. “Great.”
Minutes later, he’d corralled his son in the homework area. With the task of first writing each word out twice, Wells buckled down.
Ethan wandered over to the counter, where Charlie cut up vegetables for stir fry. Expression pensive, he leaned his hips on the granite and stared out the floor-to-ceiling glass sliders at the ocean beyond.
She glanced out at the view, then studied him from beneath her lashes. He could be devastating in a dark suit, but she thought she liked him best dressed like this—in jeans and a T-shirt that was worn at the hem and at the bands of the short sleeves. The material clung to his heavy biceps and reminded her of the effortless way he lifted his son and threw him up into the air when they played in the pool. Then he’d be shirtless, his pectoral muscles and ridged abdominals proving he was a man who liked to stay in shape.
Who was nowhere close to old.
She’d told him she’d dated those of his age and more, which was a lie. It had been years since she’d involved herself with the opposite sex, even in a casual way.
But in her fantasies, a man of exactly his age…
Charlie swallowed, finding herself staring at his long fingers, his hands tanned like the rest of him from his morning runs and afternoon strolls with his son on the beach. They’d be dark against the paler skin of her thighs. Of her breasts. Low in her belly, a heavy warmth gathered and her pulse stuttered.
“I can feel you staring,” Ethan said, not taking his eyes off the endless Pacific.
“I…” Embarrassed, she ducked her head. “You seem preoccupied.”
A corner of his mouth kicked up, but he still didn’t look at her. “I was thinking it’s cruel for kids to have to go back to school in mid-August. It’s high summer on the sand.”
“Still, it’s going to be a great year,” she said, trying to sound positive and not like her mind had wandered anywhere dangerous. “Second grade is supposed to be a catch-up year, but Wells doesn’t need to catch up on anything. His teacher gave him the bonus words this week.”
Ethan nodded slowly then ran a hand through his hair. The dark strands returned to immaculate order, and she wondered about the texture of the strands. Would they be silky or coarse? His beard grew fast—there was visual evidence of it. By evening, his kiss would leave a burn on a woman’s neck and around her lips.
Her heart started thumping and her nipples tightened beneath her bra as she imagined it. Ethan’s long-fingered hand cupping her face, angling it just so, his mouth, hard on her own, and then his thumb hooking between her lips to make an opening for the forceful thrust of his tongue.
“There’s one thing Wells will never have a chance to come equal with,” Ethan said now, his voice low.
Jerked from her thoughts, Charlie felt her face heat. She pressed her thighs together to smother the dangerous ache there and tried to sound calm. “Oh?”
“Nothing can make up for the absence of his mother.”
Oh. While she’d been on an inappropriate flight of fancy, he’d been contemplating his little boy’s loss. She glanced over at the photo of Michelle and then at the other woman’s son. Wells focused on his paper, his pencil carefully crafting the letters.
“You said you aren’t close with your family?” Ethan continued. “Does that include brothers and sisters?”
Charlie shook her head. “There’s only my mom. My dad took off long ago, and I’m an only child.”
“Me, too,” Ethan said. “You’ve met my parents. They’re getting on in years.”
Ethan’s parents, Nora and James, had started the commercial real estate business that he ran now. They’d retired to Hawaii after James had a heart incident that required bypass surgery, and though they clearly loved their son and grandson, travel took it out of them.
“You’ll see them over Thanksgiving when you and Wells fly to Kauai,” she said, thinking he was worrying about their health.
Ethan’s head suddenly turned and he looked at her, his expression…haunted. “What if something happens to me, Charlie? If Mom and Dad, if…” He closed his eyes. “Who’ll take care of my boy?”
The big internal cracking sound was the new fracture in her heart. It had been damaged before, and she’d known for the past year she was flirting with further harm, but hearing that stark concern in this man’s voice nearly brought her to her knees.
It was so damn treacherous for her to feel so much.
Still, she moved toward him. Without hesitation, one palm pressed to his back, between his shoulder blades. He twitched, but that didn’t stop her from wrapping the fingers of her other hand around his forearm. The tips didn’t meet, of course, he was that solid, but she squeezed, offering reassurance, encouragement, acceptance. Things that she could almost tell herself were part of her duties.
A butler offered the master of the house support at all times. She was pretty sure that was written somewhere in a Continental Butler Academy textbook.
But she couldn’t remember much of what she’d learned there at the moment, when she was this close to Ethan, his scent in her nostrils, his body heat jacking up her own temperature. She had to hold herself rigid lest she succumb to temptation and turned in to him, seeking more contact.
An embrace.
A kiss.
Slowly, Ethan slipped his arm from her hold, but instead of breaking free of her, he caught her hand in his, entwining their fingers. Charlie’s heart leaped to her throat, and she had no way for words to get out, no way for breath to get in. She remained in his hold, pulse thrumming like a caged bird’s, feeling vulnerable. Terrified.
So breakable.
That last thought had her scuttling away from him. She felt his gaze on her, scrutinizing, assessing, and she ducked her head and picked up the knife. Gripping it hard, she hesitated to start chopping again, in case she took off a pinkie instead of cutting a carrot into sticks.
“Charlotte.”
Now it was her turn to close her eyes. That name. The way he said it. She was a woman when he said Charlotte. Not his butler.
“Charlie,” she corrected, glancing up.
A faint smile crossed his lips. “Charlie.” He paused. “I’m curious.”
About why she’d touched him? Why she’d scurried off like a crab? Why she felt flushed and rumpled when she was never flushed and rumpled?
Cool and collected was her trademark.
“What did Liz mean about letting me decide if something was worth the cause?”
She hesitated.
“Charlie?”
Then, resigned, she began to lay it out for him. Because if she held back, Liz would badger her about it. Worse, maybe ferret out that her reluctance had to do with her intemperate thoughts about her boss.
“It’s ridiculous, really, and I’m embarrassed having had to tell you about it,” she said at the end of her little spiel. “You’re certainly under no obligation to go out with Liz’s sister or even make the call.”
“You like the woman?”
“Liz’s sister? Well, she seems very nice. I’ve met her a few times, but—”
“I’ll do it.” Ethan was staring at her as he said the words, and she felt even more flustered than before. “It seems it’s past time that I got out there.”