Bewitched (10 page)

He needed Charlie.

His head snapped up with that errant thought, and he coughed. “Dalton, I'm sure if I go to her now and tell her what's happened—”

“No! You can't do that. Why, she might blame herself for
my ill health. Finding out the truth, that I didn't leave her, is going to be enough of an adjustment. She'll know her mother lied all along, that she kept us apart out of sheer spite. That'd be tough for any young lady to accept, especially now that Rose is gone and can't admit the truth.”

“Dalton, this particular young lady is tougher than shoe leather. Really. I don't think—”

“No. I tell you, it'd be too much. And if she thought she caused my heart attack—which of course she didn't—”

“Of course not,” Harry agreed with wry cynicism.

“—she just might run off again. I can't take that chance, now that I'm so close to being reunited with her. She just might leave without giving me time to explain.”

From what Harry knew of Charlie, she wasn't going anywhere without enough money to get her sister started in the college of her choice. The woman could vie with a herd of mules and come out ahead on stubbornness.

“No,” Dalton continued, thinking out loud, “a better idea will be if you pretend to work for her.”

“What?”

He rubbed his hands together. “You can soften her up for me, Harry. Leave little hints about the past, pretend to uncover clues about how much I do care for her, to let her know I wasn't just another neglectful father. Then she can get accustomed to the idea little by little. When she's ready, you can arrange a meeting between us.”

“You want me to lie to the girl?”

Dalton managed a supreme look of affront. “Not blatant lying, no. Just little white lies, for the good of all of us. Besides, you've already lied to her by not admitting you know me, so don't get sanctimonious on me now.”

“Dalton, you're not in the best of health. You've had a really rough day and you're not thinking straight.” Besides, Harry wasn't at all certain he could maintain a facade of indifference to Charlie. He wanted her, and being around her while
resisting her would be an undeserved hell, especially as she seemed determined to seduce him—when she wasn't doing her best to irritate him.

Dalton slammed his fist down on the side of the bed. “I'm thinking just fine!”

His actions reminded Harry so much of Charlie, how she'd slammed her own smaller fist down on his table, he almost grinned. Stubbornness definitely ran through the genes. Charlie had come by her obstinate nature legitimately. “Okay, so you're impervious to health concerns, wise beyond your years and immortal to boot. I still don't think it's a good idea.”

Dalton fell back against his pillows, and Harry again noticed how pale, how drawn he looked. He frowned in concern. “Dalton—”

“No, never mind,” Dalton sighed in a pathetically weak voice. “I shouldn't have been such a bother. You're already working on the extortion case for me, and heaven knows that's more than I should have asked of you. Though those young punks are idiots, it could still be dangerous.”

Harry could attest to that.

“And now this, dragging you into the middle of my personal affairs.” He sighed again, closed his eyes, and looked forlorn and dejected. Even knowing it to be a ruse, Harry couldn't stand it.

He came to his feet and propped his hands on his hips. “You don't play the martyr worth a damn, Dalton, so spare me the theatrics.”

Dalton peeked one eye open. “I know that tone. It means you're ready to relent. Right?”

“Yes,” Harry said, then groaned. “I suppose I have no choice, given you're lying there in a sickbed and you're not above using it to make me toe the line.”

Dalton beamed at him. “You're a real hero, Harry. I don't know what I'd do without you.”

“I am not a damn hero!” He felt mired in conflicting
emotions. Regret, because Charlie was now off-limits and he was honor-bound to keep his hands off her delectable little body and his thoughts away from lascivious ventures.

Anticipation, because despite being off-limits, he'd be seeing her again and her spunk and wit never ceased to amaze and amuse him.

He also felt anxiety, because he had no idea how he'd placate her infatuation with him while still keeping her a discreet arm's length away. She seemed determined to seduce him, given that last scorching kiss, and he'd have to find a way to feign disinterest without hurting her.

It was enough to boggle the mind, and Harry's mind, at present, was already overtaxed and sluggish. “I'm a stooge maybe, but never a hero.”

“Yeah, well, right now, you look like an exhausted stooge. Why don't you go on home and get some sleep? My God, it's nearly dawn. And with all this excitement, I'm suddenly pretty tired myself.”

Alarmed, Harry started forward, only to have Dalton wave him away. “It's not my heart, son, only my age and the excitement. Honest. We'll talk later and go over what you should tell Charlotte. We need a plan of action.”

“You think I might have forgotten all your sterling qualities? You think I might not be able to make you sound a veritable icon among men?” Harry tsked. “You should know better, Dalton. I'll sing your praises until she cries mercy.”

Somber, Dalton took Harry's hand and squeezed it. “I can't tell you how many times I've wished you were my own son.”

Harry felt a lump in his throat that could strangle an elephant. “In all the ways that matter most, you're the only father I've ever had. And a damn good one to boot.”

Dalton wiped his eyes, then said gruffly, “Aw, get the hell out of here. You look worse than I do.”

Harry laughed. “That's saying a lot.” On impulse, he leaned
down and gave Dalton a hug, then straightened and headed for the door. “I'll be back, but in the meantime, I'm giving my home number, cell phone number and pager number to the nurses in case you need me for anything.”

“You sure you don't want to leave your social security number, too?”

“If I thought it necessary, I would.” He heard Dalton grumble and had to smile. “I mean it, Dalton. If you need me for anything, even conversation, simply call, all right?”

“Don't rush back just to hold my hand. Take care of business instead. I'd rather know you were seeing to my daughters and protecting my friends. Besides, there's a few cute nurses here willing to keep me company. If you hang around, they'll all be looking at you, instead.”

Shaking his head, Harry said, “I'll let you know what your daughter thinks of my investigative skills. Even she should be duly impressed, given I'll have found out several remarkable things about you within half a day.”

“Make me look real good, son.”

“No problem. It'll be a piece of cake.”

Or so he wanted Dalton to think. He couldn't abide the idea of causing him undue worry, but he knew from experience that nothing with Charlie would be easy, and she'd be the hardest person in the world to impress, especially where Dalton was concerned.

A reluctant grin curved Harry's mouth as he made his way to the nurses' station.
He would have to spend more time with her.
The decision was out of his hands, his motives altruistic and pure…

It would be a struggle to keep his hands to himself, to keep his thoughts on the straight and narrow. Charlie was just so damn…
cute,
in a perky, twisted, Annie Hall kind of way. He couldn't remember ever being so intrigued by a woman.

He wondered what she'd look like in regular clothes, how she'd dress, how she'd wear her hair.

He also wondered how anyone in his right mind could possibly call such a unique, independent, headstrong woman
Charlotte.
Absurd. Charlie suited her far better. He only hoped Dalton would realize that, to avoid any disappointments.

 

C
HARLIE KNOCKED,
but when that didn't bring forth a response, she leaned against the buzzer. Judging by the commotion on the other side of the door, at least the dogs were at home. She really wanted Harry to be in, too, so she could share her news. She needed…

Oh, who was she fooling? She simply wanted to see him again, and when such a good excuse presented itself, she couldn't resist. It was almost noon, so Harry surely was up, despite the late night they'd had. She was amazed she'd managed to wait this long.

Keeping one shoulder on the buzzer, she smoothed her hair, then caught herself and dropped her hand. She was not a prissy person and damn if she'd start acting like one now just because she had the temporary hots for a very urbane gentleman with outlandish diction.

Charlie grinned. Actually, she'd sorta grown used to the way he talked. It was smooth on the ears, certainly not something she was used to when the men at her bar tended to slur and used very crude language.

When the door suddenly opened, she was caught with that outrageous grin still on her face. And Harry, all six feet five inches of him, looked disgruntled. He was—she gulped—wet, and wearing only a towel. The dogs were now quiet, peeking around Harry's bare knees.

His eyes narrowed when he saw her. “Perhaps you're not aware of it, but you're leaning on my doorbell.”

Charlie, never to be confused with an idiot, widened her eyes and quickly stepped away from the bell. “Oops! I'm sorry. I didn't realize.”

Harry stilled, then slowly looked her over. His gaze lingered
on her hair, her breasts, then skimmed down to her feet. She stared back. He stood there blocking his doorway, wearing only a towel, clean shaven. Droplets of water clung to the hair on his chest and trickled through the silky line of hair leading from his navel downward. He smelled of delicious male scents that made heat bloom and curl in her belly. She delicately sniffed the air, breathing him in, then sighed.

His voice was gruff when he said, “You certainly look different out of your male apparel.”

Charlie glanced down at her slim-fitting, well-worn jeans, her lace-up brown work boots. Donning a soft, cream-colored sweater was as far as she'd been willing to go to try to impress him with her less than apparent femininity. Anything more, anything as ridiculous as a skirt, would have been too obvious. She wasn't altogether certain she even owned a skirt.

Besides, any efforts to make her look more ladylike would have come across as asinine. She just didn't have the heart for it.

Harry reached out and touched her hair, tugging one curl through his fingers. His cheekbones flushed and he whispered, “Like silk. Warm silk.”

Charlie wanted to melt. Oh, the man had a way of saying things that hit the pit of her stomach and radiated out to make her shaky and hot and… She sighed again. If he'd wanted her to, she'd have stood there all day letting him play with her hair. But then his fingers touched on her bullet earring and he suddenly stiffened and stepped back.

“Good heavens. Come in before someone sees you.”

“Me? You're the one who's nearly naked.”

She walked in, thoroughly greeted by the dogs who went all out by jumping and shaking and appearing happy to see a new face. Harry, however, was already stalking away. He waved vaguely toward the kitchen. “Go make yourself at home and I'll be right back.”

Charlie admired the view of his retreating backside. His
shoulders were wide, hard, his spine straight, muscles evident all over the place.

She'd have admired the view even more if he'd dropped the towel. “Don't dress on my account!”

“Brat.” He galloped up the steps without looking back. She heard a door slam.

Well, well. He certainly was grouchy this afternoon. Charlie slipped off her lightweight jean jacket, laid it over a chair, and went to investigate the kitchen. The dogs followed on her heels and their nails tapped-tapped on the kitchen tile floor as they danced around her.

She wasn't surprised to find coffee just finished brewing. Remembering how Harry had taken his, she fixed his cup as well as her own. Then she spotted Ted, glaring at her from his seat at the table. She shrugged. “Don't mind me. I'll sit way over here. You won't even know I'm around.”

Sooner howled, as if he found that hilariously funny.

Harry returned only seconds later wearing suit pants and buttoning up a blue dress shirt with one hand. In the other hand he carried shoes, socks and a tie.

Charlie raised a brow. “What? You didn't trust me alone in your kitchen? Or did you think Ted and I would be brawling? You had to rush back half-dressed?”

He slanted a frown her way and picked up the coffee cup for a healthy sip. “At least allow the caffeine to penetrate my brain cells before you start sniping. I've had very little sleep, certainly not enough to counteract yesterday's adventures.” As if by rote he opened the back door and the dogs darted out.

She hadn't gotten much sleep the night before, either. She'd spent most of the evening staring at the ceiling and thinking of that last kiss. She doubted he'd done the same. Maybe he just slept late when he needed to. She, however, didn't have that luxury, not with the bar to run. “Uh, Harry, are you on your way out?”

“As a matter of fact, yes, so perhaps it would be auspicious for you to explain this unexpected visit?”

“Auspicious, huh? All right, don't get red in the face. I found out some info on our villains.”

He froze with the cup to his lips, then slowly lowered it. “I assume you're referring to Floyd and Ralph?”

“Aren't they the only villains we know jointly?”

He frowned, took a large drink as if to fortify himself, and she continued.

“They're going to drop in on Pops again today, so I figured I'd follow them when they leave, just to see where they go, and I wondered if you'd want to tag along to keep me company—”

Coffee spewed across the table, making Charlie jump back a good foot. She growled. “Damn it, Harry, you do seem to have a problem with coffee, don't you?”