Pandora's Box (previously Worth the Wait, a Zebra print best seller) (3 page)

Charlie glanced at Damian over the rim of her glass. His charcoal-grey suit was tailored to fit his tall, lean body. The fine quality of the garment must have set him back more than she paid in a year’s rent. His square jaw, straight nose, and wide slashed mouth raised in an arrogant grin left her feeling he might be more dangerous than his polished appearance had first led her to believe. When he spoke, his green eyes studied her intensely, as if he could see inside her soul.

His chestnut hair had a hint of silver at the temples, making him appear older than his thirty-two years. Or perhaps his overly serious nature was to blame. She knew from Erik that Damian hadn’t taken a day off since he took over his grandfather’s insurance firm ten years earlier.

When he smiled, however, he seemed like a different man. A man who could cause unfamiliar and unwanted sensations with his mere proximity. A man who awakened desires she swore she didn’t possess. A man who could make a staunch realist like herself start believing in dreams.

“I guess I didn’t pass your inspection,” he drawled.

He’d more than passed, and that was what scared her. She rarely noticed men, and never felt such an all-out physical attraction. Why him, of all people? Suddenly conscious that she was staring, she lowered her gaze. She needed some space to recover. Quickly.

“You’re watching me as if you expect me to jump out and grab you. I assure you, I’ve been bought up better than that.”

“I’m not worried. I carry mace for just such occasions.”

“And have there been many occasions?”

“Not recently.”

Charlie turned her attention to the house her brother had been raised in. Although it was exquisitely decorated, she felt as if she were standing in a showroom rather than a family home. The contemporary furniture was covered in warm shades of mauve and grey, yet the sterile perfection of the room left her cold.

She gave an indifferent glance to the paintings hanging on the wall. Suddenly one picture on the far wall caught her attention. Sea foam green and turquoise hues brought the landscape of a fishing village to vivid life. Standing just offshore in waist-deep water, a peasant girl cast her fishing net. The girl in the picture bore a striking resemblance to Charlie. She knew intuitively the painting was of her mother.

“She looks like you,” Damian noted from across the room. “Erik’s father painted that more than twenty-five years ago.”

“I know,” she said softly. “I mean, I saw the name in the comer.”

Damian must have sensed that the picture had a deep effect on her. He drew up alongside of her and gave her a brief history. “He spent some time studying art in Algeria back in the early sixties, before he married my mother. This particular village was one of his favorite spots.”

Charlie studied every detail of the painting. What dreams of grandeur Peter Lawson must have promised her mother to make her leave the only life she’d ever known and follow him to a strange country. How overwhelming life here must have seemed to her. Charlie had spent her whole life in America and sometimes she had difficulty making it through each day. Was it any wonder that her mother had been unable to cope on her own?

* * * *

Damian put his hand on her arm. She jerked it away quickly and took a few steps back.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“Don’t touch me.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean anything by it.”

“Then it wasn’t necessary to do it.”

He frowned at the anger in her voice. Did she find him distasteful or had he simply frightened her?

Charlotte Simone was a complicated woman. He didn’t want any more complications in his life. So why had he become determined to unravel the mystery of her? He didn’t detect a hint of an affair between her and Erik. His brother hadn’t flown into a fit of rage over the fact that he’d asked her on a date—or more accurately, forced her on a date. Erik and Charlie didn’t exchange deep, meaningful glances. On the surface it was just as they claimed a close friendship.

“Would you like to see the rest of the house?” Damian asked.

“Not really.”

“How about the other paintings? They’re also by Erik’s father.”

“No.”

“Don’t you like them?”

Peter Lawson had gained some fame in his lifetime, and much more since his tragic death. Most guests were overly curious about the paintings, which was often difficult on his mother, who had never fully come to terms with the death of her second husband.

“My tastes run toward velvet paintings of Elvis,” she quipped.

Damian laughed. “You’re determined to punish me for this, aren’t you?”

“In your circle of friends, it might be acceptable to escort someone because it’s good for business. When I’m told that I won’t have a job unless I go on a date, I tend to get a little ticked off. You paid my boss two hundred dollars as if I were some kind of call girl.”

“I didn’t mean that. It was your pay and the cost of hiring another bartender for the night I didn’t want you to be out any money because you were attending a party at my mother’s request.”

She shook her head and let out a small laugh. “If you think I’ll ever see half that money, than you’re as naive as you are crazy. I make most of my pay in tips, not salary.”

“Is that a problem?”

“Just forget it. I’m here now.”

It had never occurred to him that she depended on a part-time job to live. If he offered to make up the difference now, he might compound the insult. “Shall we leave for the club?”

Her eyes expanded. “What about Erik?”

“He has to pick up his date. You can ride with me.

“How am I going to get home?”

“I’ll drive you back on my way home. You are my date after all.”

Obviously, she wasn’t happy with his arrangements. She was almost in a panic. As she rested against the edge of the sofa to change her shoes, her hand shook.

“My hair?” she mumbled. The wild mass of curls gave her a seductive aura she probably hadn’t intended. In fact, nothing about this alluring beauty seemed intentional, but she had gotten to him in a way no woman ever had before. What would it take to get to her?

“You look lovely. Shall we?” he said, pointing toward the hall.

Charlie drew up her petite frame and inhaled deeply. “In a few short hours, this will all be history,” she muttered.

“I beg your pardon?”

She raised her head bravely and flashed him a gorgeous smile. “I was reminding myself that I had to study for an exam in history.”

* * * *

The blue room of the Somerville Country Club was the most opulent place Charlie had ever seen. Crystal chandeliers shimmered. Fine china and starched white linens brought to mind the kind of social events she had seen only in the movies. Although she had thought her dress was lovely when she bought it, it paled in comparison to the designer dresses the other women were wearing. She felt self-conscious of the glaring difference in her economic background.

Her eyes never left the entrance door as she waited for Erik to arrive with his date. She needed him in her corner. Damian was talking business most of the time, but kept a possessive hand on her arm in spite of her earlier protests.

He seemed to enjoy the shocked reaction of his friends as they were introduced to a woman named Charlie. What he failed to notice was their treatment of Charlie herself. The overly polite greetings coupled with the judgmental glares were a deliberate insult. She reminded herself that she’d been through worse than this and had survived.

In the half hour they’d been there, she had thus far been spared the meeting with his mother. As an elegant blond woman made her way across the dance floor, she knew her luck had just run out.

Monica greeted her son and kissed him on the cheek. She raised a well-manicured finger to wipe off a small lipstick smudge and smiled. “I was beginning to think you wouldn’t make it before dinner was served.”

“Happy birthday, Mother,” Damian said.

“Are you going to introduce me to your date?”

“This is Charlie, Erik’s friend from college. My mother, Monica Lawson.”

Monica offered her hand, which Charlie thought momentarily to refuse. With so many eyes in the room on her, she didn’t have the nerve. “It’s very nice to meet you. Erik speaks of you often.”

Monica’s smile seemed frozen on her lips. “That’s an unusual name for a woman.”

“I suppose,” Charlie said.

“Her name is Charlotte. Charlotte Simone,” Damian said, putting a French accent on the pronunciation.

A crystal wineglass shattered on the floor, commanding the attention of the entire room. Fiery, red liquid splattered over the bottom of Monica’s rose-colored silk dress. And despite her well-applied makeup, her face turned a deathly shade of white.

Charlie lowered her gaze, unable to meet the horrified stare she was receiving. She wished the puddle on the floor were a hole she could drop herself into. This little scene blew any chance she had of escaping without a second thought. She couldn’t even move because Damian had a grip on her arm.

“Mother? Are you all right?” Damian’s voice carried through the silent room.

Thank goodness for the well-trained staff, she thought. They quickly sent out a cleaning detail, taking the center of attention away from the three of them. Monica muttered an excuse and went to the ladies’ room to attend to her dress.

Erik arrived at that moment and joined them. “What happened?”

“Nothing. It was only a glass,” Damian said. “I have to see about Mother. I’ll be right back.”

“What happened, Charlie?” Erik asked again.

When Damian was out of sight, Charlie turned angrily toward Erik. “What do you think happened when your brother announced my name to your mother?”

“She recognized it?” His face clouded over with sorrow. “I didn’t think she knew about you.”

“There’s no doubt about it now.” Memories of a painful childhood pushed to the surface. Hushed whispers echoed in her mind. Sure that everyone was looking at her, she held up her head and fought back the tears that threatened to fall. Never again would this family make her cry. “I have to leave, Erik. Loan me some money and I’ll catch the bus back home.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. I’ll take you back myself.”

“Absolutely not. It’s your mother’s birthday party. I’ll be fine.”

“I’ll get Damian . . .”

“No!” She couldn’t face Damian again. What would he think when he found out the truth about her? Why did she care?

“Charlie. I can’t leave you at the bus station. At least take the train and Shelly can meet you when it arrives.”

Rather than waste more time arguing, she agreed. “Okay. But I want to go now before your brother comes back.”

“Let me make some excuse to Cynthia and I’ll meet you at the front door.”

* * * *

Damian paced anxiously outside the ladies’ room door. He was concerned for his mother’s health. She had never been a strong woman, but the ghostly look on her face was more than just a bad case of nerves. He sent one of the waitresses inside to check on her.

When she finally emerged, she pulled him violently by the arm out of earshot of any guests. “What the hell were you thinking bringing that woman here?”

Damian was stunned by the fury of her words. “What do you mean? You told me to invite her.”

“I never asked you to bring that tramp to my party,” she growled out through clenched teeth.

“You know her?

Monica shook her head. “I’ve never met her.”

“Then what are you talking about?” Damian demanded.

“Just get her out of here. And make sure she stays out of Erik’s life. Do you understand me?”

“No. I don’t. If you don’t know her, why are you so upset?”

“I don’t want her kind hanging around my son.”

“Her kind of what?”

His mother seemed frantic. “I can’t explain it. She’ll ruin Erik’s future. She’ll ruin everything.”

“They’re only friends.”

“Damn it, Damian, don’t argue with me. Just get rid of her and do whatever it takes to make sure she’s out of his life.”

“I think you’re overreacting. She’s a college student. What harm could she possibly do to Erik?”

Monica stood tall. He’d never seen his mother have such an adverse reaction to a stranger in his life. Thinking back, he realized that Charlie and Erik had had almost the exact same reaction about her coming as his mother had to her being here.

What was he missing? He intended to find out “We’ll go if that’s what you want. But it’s inexcusably rude to ask her to leave when you asked me to invite her.”

Ice-blue eyes stared contemptuously at him. “I don’t know what kind of game she thinks she’s playing, but that woman would never be welcome in my company.”

Damian went back to the party to find Charlie. He had no idea what he was supposed to say. She had made it perfectly clear that she didn’t want to be here. How had she known his mother would have this kind of reaction?