Читать книгу Fortune's Special Delivery - Michelle Major, Michelle Major - Страница 11

Chapter Five

Alice stood under the shade of an elm tree in front of her building the next afternoon, watching as a sleek Mercedes sedan pulled to the curb. True to his word, Charles had called that morning and asked to see her and Flynn again, suggesting he bring lunch to her apartment.

Unfortunately, Alice didn’t trust herself alone with the handsome Brit after yesterday’s kissing fiasco. Yes, she wanted a father for her son. But could she and Flynn ever be enough for him? She’d told herself at the start of all this that her needs were secondary to those of her son, but she was having trouble convincing her body. It had felt so right when Charles touched his lips to hers, and she’d wanted to sink into him and revel in the feel of her body thrumming back to life.

It had been silly to believe that Charles would want anything more from her than access to Flynn. What could someone like her possibly offer a man like him? The same doubts had plagued her during her pregnancy, contributing to her long list of reasons for not contacting him.

If she’d had any hopes about him wanting her in that way, they’d been shattered when he’d broken their embrace like she’d tried to eat him alive and he had one chance for escape. She’d gone for more than two decades without a man before Charles, and over a year since their night together. Maybe that’s why her need for him seemed to overpower her.

Although she was rarely alone, with Flynn to look after, motherhood added a level of isolation to her already quiet life that she hadn’t expected. Still, she had no intention ruining the fragile bond Charles had with Flynn just because she was the modern day equivalent of a dried-up spinster.

With that in mind, public outings with Charles seemed the most prudent course of action. But they still needed to maintain some level of anonymity. According to Charles, most people believed he’d gone to Horseback Hollow, as was his original plan. That gave them some time, but although Austin wasn’t as overtly overrun with cowboys as Dallas or Houston, Charles didn’t exactly blend in as a local. Alice hoped to remedy that today.

“Tell me again where we’re going,” Charles said as he approached her on the sidewalk. He wore a fitted black sweater, even though the temperature was hovering in the midseventies, and dark, tapered trousers. Even before he uttered a word, anyone within a block could tell he wasn’t American.

“To the mall,” she said. She held Flynn’s infant seat between them, needing every bit of physical distance she could manage.

“As in a shopping mall?”

Alice almost laughed at the words rolling off his tongue in that crisp accent. “Barton Creek Square isn’t far from here, and you need a new wardrobe.”

He ran a hand over the front of his sweater and arched an eyebrow. “Is there something wrong with my clothes?”

“Not if you want to constantly be recognized while you’re in Austin,” she told him. “You dress like you’re British.”

“I am British.”

“Which is why we’re going to turn you into an American for a few weeks.” She smiled and stepped away from the building. “Trust me, Charles.”

“I’m not wearing Wranglers,” he mumbled, and she did laugh.

“No Wranglers,” she agreed. “But at least one ten-gallon hat.”

He shot her a horrified glance.

“I’m kidding.” Alice found that she enjoyed teasing Charles. “Austin’s fashion style is fairly casual and, because of the college and the music scene, it’s less ‘cowboy’ than a lot of places in Texas. You’ll be fine.” She started for the walkway next to her building. “My car’s in the lot around back.”

“We can take mine.”

“You don’t have a car seat base.”

He flashed her a proud smile. “I do, and I had it installed at the fire station the hotel concierge recommended.”

She sucked in a breath, trying not to let her heart be influenced by the thoughtfulness of that gesture. He lifted the car seat out of her hands, their fingers brushing.

“Hullo there, little man,” he said to Flynn as he tipped back the sunshade. Flynn gurgled in response.

“I need to grab his stroller from the trunk of my car.” She shrugged at Charles’s questioning glance. “There’s not a lot of room in the apartment, so I keep it in the car when I’m not using it.”

He considered that for a moment. “A boy needs a yard to romp in, Alice.”

“Flynn has a while to go before the ‘romping’ stage begins.”

“If you’d let me—”

“My apartment is fine.” She held up a hand. “One step at a time. Please.”

“One step at a time. Let’s drive around back to your car.” He hit the remote start on the key fob and then clicked the infant carrier into the base waiting in his back seat. This was the first time she’d gotten in a car with her son and not been driving since her father brought her home from the hospital after Flynn’s birth.

Charles held open the door and she slipped into the buttery leather seat, stowing the diaper bag at her feet.

“Do you always wear heels?” he asked, leaning over the top of the door.

“Whenever possible,” she admitted. “These are low for me.” Today she’d gone casual with a pair of polka-dot espadrilles with a stacked one-inch heel.

“I like them,” he said simply, but the intensity in his eyes as they raked over her body made awareness whisper across her skin.