If The Shoe Fits (9 page)

“So what do we do now?” she whispered.

Something tugged deep and low inside him. “A
goodnight kiss?”

“You have the most brilliant ideas,
Alex.”

“That’s why you married me,” he said.

“One of many reasons.”

He wondered what the other reasons were.
Maybe someday she’d tell him.

“Are you going to kiss me?”

He chuckled. He brushed back a lock of her
hair and cupped her face in his hands. “It would be my
pleasure.”

Her eyes fluttered shut and her lips parted.
He groaned softly. Alex lowered his head. Ever so gently, he teased
her with a whisper of a kiss. This time she was the one to groan.
Desire curled in his middle.

Alex deepened the kiss, parting her sweet,
tender lips with his tongue. Hunger swept through his blood at her
ready response.

In mid-kiss, he felt her hands at his waist,
her fingers skimming the fabric of his shirt. The warmth of her
skin burned through the thin barrier. Flames of liquid heat licked
at him, urging him on.

But he held himself in check.

Moments later, he sensed her reluctance as he
ended the embrace. Her shivery sigh-part pleasure, part
disappointment- matched his increasing regret. Why in the world did
he agree to wait? And what did she mean by courting her? She’d made
it clear she wasn’t the least bit romantic.

Slowly, he stepped away, releasing her. He
stuffed his hands in the pockets of his jeans. “Well, I guess this
means goodnight.”

She bit her bottom lip. He watched with a
mixture of lust and fascination. He dragged his gaze away from the
tantalizing image.

He leaned forward and tenderly kissed her on
her forehead. “Goodnight, Charlie.”

“Sweet dreams, Alex.”

Walking away, he sensed her stare. Alex
willed himself to keep on going down the hallway and not turn back.
A few steps more and he was at his door. Reaching out, he grasped
the doorknob. He stilled for a moment. Clenching his teeth, he
fought his conscience. Honor won.

Once in his room, Alex plopped down on the
edge of his bed. He dropped his head into his hands. Berating
himself for wanting what he couldn’t have, he nearly missed the
soft tap at his door. He sucked in a breath.

He opened the door slowly. “Charlie?”
Don’t tempt me any more than I already am
.

She wrung her hands. “I was wondering, is it
important to you, well, if someone gives you their word, would you
expect them to keep it?”

He blinked a few times, frowning. “Yes.”

A heavy sigh rushed out of her. “I thought
so. Goodnight.”

Alex shook his head. Gently, he closed the
door. “Shower. Long. Cold. Now.” He tugged at the buttons on his
shirt, undoing them swiftly. Just as he went to shrug it off, a
hesitant knock came again. He froze. “No, please no.”

The sound seemed to resound in his head.

Gritting his teeth, he felt the muscle
throbbing along his jaw. Alex answered the door.

This time her hands were folded together,
fingers linked together as if in some sort of prayer. “I hate to
bother you.”

“No bother,” he lied, smiling tightly.

Her gaze seemed to linger on the opening of
his shirt. He inhaled sharply.

Charlie went on, “You know the question I
just asked you? Well, I’ve got another one, sorta related.” She
winced slightly. “Would you think less of someone if they gave
their word, but changed their minds?”

He contemplated that for a short time.
“Probably. Yes, I guess I would. Your word is your honor. Why?”

She waved a hand at him. “Oh, just
asking.”

He watched her turn on her heel and walk
away. He closed the door with a definite snap. Turning, he whipped
off his shirt, flinging it on the bed. Making his way into the
bathroom, he undid the snap and zipper on his jeans.

A knock, loud and strong, rent the air.

He groaned. “You have got to be kidding me.”
Alex clenched his fists and clamped his eyes shut. “Go away,
please, just go away.”

It came again, more confident than the
last.

Alex marched to the door and then threw it
open. “Charlie, I am not a saint, got it?”

In the next instant, she rushed to him,
wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing him. All he could do
was hold her. Stilling, she pulled away. “Alex, kiss me back.”

“I can’t. If I do, I won’t be able to
stop.”

“I don’t want you to stop,” she said. Her
eyes seemed to gather with moisture. “Alex, I’m sorry, but I’m
taking my word back.”

“Your word?”

“Yes, you don’t have to court me first. You
can do that later.”

Shock raced through him. He pulled back from
her, searching her stare. “Are you sure, really sure about
this?”

There was no hint of reluctance.

“I’ve never been more sure about anything in
my life.”

***

Charlie could never pinpoint the exact moment
she’d changed her mind. Maybe it had been somewhere between the
wedding confession about the cards or simply talking to him late
into the night over pizza and soda. She just knew the moment he
ever so gently kissed her on the forehead and walked away that she
longed for him. Deeply, achingly longed for Alexander Royale.

The physical appeal had been obvious even
when she’d seen his picture in the papers. But, for every moment
she’d spent with him, discovered a little bit more about him, she’d
been slowly and steadily yearning for the man. Honor. Integrity.
Compassion.

Now, with dawn streaking the sky outside, she
snuggled into him. Her head rested on his shoulder and his arms
wrapped around her. She sighed with contentment.

“Charlie,” he murmured, trailing his fingers
along her bare arm.

She shivered. “Hmmmm?”

“Thank you.”

“For what?” she whispered.

“For taking your word back.”

She giggled. Moving so she faced him, she
said softly, “My pleasure, husband.” She leaned down and brushed
her lips against his. His groan rumbled through his chest, making
heat coil within her. “But, remember, you still have to court
me.”

He chuckled heartily, and then grabbed her in
his arms and rolled her to her back. Charlie ran her hands over his
biceps and to his shoulders.

Looking down at her, he said, “I think I can
do that.” He trailed kisses along her jaw and down her neck. He
nibbled at the sensitive spot at the base of her throat. “Like
this?”

She sucked in a sharp breath. “Hmmm, yes.
That’s a perfect place to begin with. Right there, Alex. Court
away.”

Charlie hummed as she draped the lush, ruby
red fabric trimmed in gold over the back of the ornamental chair in
the display window.

She felt the nudge on her arm.

“You’re mighty happy, honey,” Dolly pointed
out, plumping up a matching pillow on the opposite chair. “I wonder
why.”

“Dolly!” Charlie’s cheeks warmed instantly.
She straightened, rubbing the small of her back. “I can’t go into
details of my wedding night, even to you.”

The older woman winked and nodded her head.
“I gotcha. Edward and I were betting on you and Mr. R.,” she
cleared her throat, “gettin’ to know each other, close like.”

Her cheeks burned now. She plopped down in
the chair and dropped her face into her hands. “This is so
embarrassing. You and Edward betting on that!” A new thought had
her snapping her head up and twisting to see Dolly settling back in
the matching gold chair. “You didn’t hear anything, did you?”

Dolly slapped her hand on her thigh. “No such
luck.” She leaned close and whispered loudly, “‘Cause me and Edward
snuggled a little bit.”

“No way!”

“Way!”

“Why you, you—”

“Hussy?” Dolly giggled and her face turned
pink. She shrugged self-consciously. “I can’t help myself around
that man. What a hunk!”

Charlie cupped a hand over her mouth and
chuckled.

Her friend tapped her on the arm. “He’s a
great kisser. Oh my, the things he does!”

“Stop!” She covered her ears. “Don’t tell me.
I’ll never be able to look at him again if you do.”

“And his hands,” she practically growled,
“nice and firm, but not too strong, if you know what I mean.”

Charlie had visions of Alex running his palms
over her skin. She shivered uncontrollably. “Quit,” she
groaned.

“Why? You gonna rush home or something?”
Dolly raised and lowered her brows.

“Something like that,” Charlie confessed. She
eased all the way back in the chair and, with her foot, dragged the
ottoman over. She and Dolly rested their feet on the footstool at
the same time.

“That good, huh?”

“Better.”

They giggled.

“I guess all them stories ‘bout him were true
then.”

“Yep.” She smiled. An ache throbbed to life
somewhere deep and low. Charlie sighed.

There was a moment of silence as Charlie
watched beyond the glass window and noted the usual slow, steady
stream of Sunday foot traffic on the street. No one took notice of
her and her friend redecorating one of King’s Department store
windows. That seemed to be a problem. No one noticed because fewer
and fewer people shopped at King’s.

“Hey,” Dolly said, dragging Charlie back to
the moment, “you think Edward and Mr. R. talk about these kinda
things?”

“Compare notes?”

“Yeah. I wonder what they say.”

“That we’re good, of course.”

Dolly burst out laughing. Charlie soon joined
her.

A few minutes later, Charlie asked, “Do you
think this will work, Dolly? I mean,” she waved a hand at the bogus
deck of cards on the table between them, the mannequins eerily
similar to her and Alex nearby waiting to be gently positioned in
the chairs they occupied, “all this?” As she glanced over her
shoulder at the bold-faced family name she’d contrived, she winced.
“The Charmings?”

Her friend must have heard the nervous edge
in her voice; she said, “Honey, all these people have been
wondering about you and Mr. R. The papers, the reporters, the
questions, all the juicy details. This is the perfect way to let
them in on what’s going on. And get a whole lotta interest back in
King’s.”

She bit her lip. Recalling the other display
window they’d just finished nearly an hour ago, Charlie wondered
what Alex’s reaction would be to an image of him proposing to her
on the impression of the yacht she and Dolly had created.

Dolly tapped a finger on the deck of cards
nestled on the table between them. “The first window’s a teaser.
People are going to see that and rush to this one. Won’t they get a
good chuckle over your engagement and the fake cards?”

She tried to smile, she really did, but a
muscle near her lip twitched instead.

The idea for the displays had come to her as
she showered that morning. Still dripping wet, she’d hurried to her
sketch pad and, with a few quick strokes, had both drawings coming
to life right before her very eyes. She’d had her friend involved
shortly thereafter as they dreamed up fabrics and colors. Charlie
had thought nothing of getting approval from her husband. He’d
departed the house nearly an hour before.

Now, she realized she didn’t have license to
broadcast his life. “But Alex?”

Dolly waved her off. “Oh, pooh! That man has
had everyone and their brother dissecting him for years. He’s used
to it. And why can’t his wife and her store get a little cashola
from it? You know how much business this is going to drum up,
honey?”

She imagined the revival of King’s and the
increase in sales, especially among the younger female
demographics. “Who wouldn’t want to buy into the fantasy of love,
right?”

“Righto!”

Almost a half hour later, Charlie rearranged
her mannequin, the last piece put into place. Stepping back, she
tapped a finger to her lips. Then she snapped her fingers. “Ah hah!
That’s it. She’s got the wrong shoes on. No one is going to buy
yesterday’s pumps. I’ve got just the perfect pair in my office.
Dolly, wait here, I’ll be back in a jiffy.”

“But—”

“Gotta rush,” she called back as she dashed
through the unlit, empty store and to the elevator. In her stocking
feet, she slid across the marble floor. She giggled, recalling how
every Sunday when the store was closed, her father and she would
kick off their shoes and compete on who could slide the farthest.
Time and time again, he’d let her win.

She sighed at the heart-tugging memories as
the doors silently closed and she rode up in the gold-mirrored
compartment. Charlie closed her eyes and rubbed the back of her
neck as more thoughts crowded her mind. She had to save this store
for her father. He poured his heart and soul into every last
detail, always putting the customer first on his list.

He’d often said, “Never forget, Charlie,
people deserve to be treated with the utmost care. We at King’s are
here to serve them. It’s a privilege. They work hard for their
money and nothing but the best is good enough for them. Everyone’s
included, from the man who digs ditches for a living to the richest
woman in the world. We treat everyone with respect, kindness, and
compassion.”

As the bell dinged and the doors whispered
open, Charlie blinked back tears.

Her father knew what he’d been talking about.
For a man who’d begun life with nothing, watching his parents toil
away picking up garbage and cleaning houses, he’d never forgotten
what it had been like to have others look down on him. Never had he
done it to anyone else. Nor would Charlie.

Distracted, she made her way into King’s
corporate offices and headed to hers. She thought she heard voices
from the opposite direction. Her stepmother’s office? She shook her
head, knowing her stepmother never worked on Sundays. The sound
came again. Two distinct voices.