Authors: Darah Lace
provocative, yet there she stood, a vision of refined
loveliness in black wool slacks and a red cashmere
sweater with pearl buttons done up to her throat.
She wore her long silvery-blonde hair swept into
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some kind of twist, held in place with a clip made of
pearls that matched the ones on her ears. Damn,
even dressed in sophisticated elegance she exuded a
sensual air.
“Close your mouth, Marcus.”
Melody’s whisper behind him came just in time
to save him from total embarrassment. Still, he
couldn’t pry his gaze from Charlotte and her escorts.
“What are you doing here today?” one of the
older girls asked Charlotte as they drew near.
Today?
Marcus frowned, still trying to figure out
how these kids knew her.
She smiled and took the girl’s hand. “I’m here
for the promotion, Sarah. Just like you guys.” Her
soft voice held only a hint of her usual sultry drawl
and none of the sarcasm.
“Are you going to read us a story?” asked a
freckled face boy with bandages on both hands.
A story?
Marcus figured the only stories
Charlotte knew were the dirty limericks he’d heard
her recite at one of Chad’s frat parties.
She reached to ruffle the boy’s hair. “Oh, baby,
I’m sorry. I didn’t bring a book today.”
Amy tugged on Charlotte’s sweater. “I want you
to meet somebody.”
Charlotte let go of Sarah’s hand and stooped to
lift Amy in her arms, kissing her on the rosy cheek
untouched by scars. “Sure, sweetie. Who is it?”
Amy’s gaze landed on Marcus as she pointed a
stubby finger toward him. “He’s my new friend.”
Marcus waited for Charlotte’s cutting remark
and was surprised when she said, “Then you’re a
lucky girl. Marcus is a good friend to have.”
“You know him?” Sarah asked, eyeing him a bit
more favorably than she had when he first entered
the room. It seemed their goddess held a lot of sway
over whom they accepted and didn’t. He probably
ought to feel honored that she deigned to grant him
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approval. Funny thing was, he did.
Charlotte turned her attention to Sarah.
“Mmmhmm. We’re here to have our picture made
together.”
“Not everyone’s here, Char,” Melody said behind
him. “You’ve got time for a story.”
Charlotte’s smooth composure was at odds with
the blush that crept up her neck and cheeks. “Oh,
I’m sure whoever’s late will be here shortly.”
The little boy who wanted her to read pounced
on the opportunity, determined to have his way.
“Please, Charlotte, tell us a story, please.”
The group erupted into loud pleas, and when
Charlotte’s flustered gaze met his, Marcus added his
own. “Yes, Charlotte, tell us a story. Please.”
She lifted a finely arched brow, and her full red
lips thinned into a smirk that said she’d pay him
back in spades. “All right, let’s get settled.”
He chuckled at the squeals of delight and turned
to leave the little pagans to their goddess of
storytelling.
“Not so fast buster.” Melody grabbed his arm. “I
need help putting gifts around the tree and hanging
ornaments.”
Marcus started to tell her she hadn’t yet gained
his forgiveness when a small hand slipped into his.
“Don’t go.”
Amy’s little voice reached up to seize his heart
and there was no way in the world he could have
walked away from those huge needful blue eyes.
Again he had to swallow the rise of emotion in his
throat. “No, darlin’, I won’t leave. I’ll be right here,
helping Melody.”
She smiled a crooked smile, all that the scarred
half of her face would allow, before returning to the
group gathered on the floor not six feet away. She
tiptoed her way over the others and crawled into
Charlotte’s lap.
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Charlotte wrapped her arms around the little
girl and lifted a misty gaze to his. Then she cleared
her throat and smiled at the children. “So how about
Jack and the Beanstalk
?”
Amy squirmed in her lap to look up at her. “No,
tell the one about
Beauty and the Beast
.”
“Sweetie, that one’s kind of long.”
“That’s okay,” Sarah said. “I know it by heart.
What you don’t get to I’ll finish later.”
Charlotte bit her lip, and Marcus wondered at
her obvious reluctance to tell this particular tale.
“Very well,” Charlotte glared past him at Melody
then softened her expression. “
Beauty and the Beast
it is.”
“Are you going to stand there all day?”
He turned back to Melody, who, by the smug
expression on her face, had no doubt noticed him
held spellbound by the entire scene. She thrust an
ornament at him. “Here, make yourself useful. I
can’t reach the top.”
He took the ornament, a clear glass globe with
shredded strips of silver and gold stuffed inside and
the name “Sarah Talbert” written on the outside. He
stretched to place the glittering ball near the top of
the tree then paused to look at it. Would Sarah
spend the holidays at the hospital or at home with
her family? He hated the idea of any of these
children here and alone at Christmas.
“Once long ago,” Charlotte began her story.
“There was a handsome prince who was very spoiled
and self-centered. His name was...Phillip. One—”
“No, no, Charlotte,” Amy chirped. “His name
wasn’t Phillip.”
“I-it wasn’t?”
“It never has been before. The prince’s name has
always been Marcocius, kind of like Marcus.”
Marcus jerked his head around and caught
Charlotte’s jittery gaze. She smiled nervously. “Isn’t
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that amazing?”
“Here.” Melody handed him another ornament.
“Get busy. You’re much too slow.”
Recognizing her attempt to keep him occupied,
Marcus stifled his suspicions and took the ornament.
He read the name, not one he could put to a face but
one who no doubt had his own story.
“One day an ugly witch came to the castle,
begging for food and a place to stay for the night.”
“And her name was Charliss,” Amy inserted.
Marcus paused in mid stretch. He tilted a look
over his shoulder, but this time Charlotte refused to
glance his way.
“When the prince selfishly refused to let the
witch—”
“Charliss.”
“—stay in his castle,” she paused, and with a
pained expression, continued, “Charliss...put a curse
on him.”
She had his full attention now.
“She turned him into a horrible beast, saying
that since he was so ugly on the inside, everyone
would see his true nature until he learned to be kind
and considerate to others. After everyone ran from
him, frightened by his beastly appearance and
ferocious roar,” she snarled and growled, “the witch
transformed into a beautiful lady.”
“To show him what she was on the inside,”
Sarah supplied. “Then she left him, and he was all
alone for a long time.”
Melody poked him in the ribs. “Are you going to
help me or what?”
He realized he was scowling and tried to smooth
his features, afraid the similarities between himself
and Charlotte’s prince would suddenly dawn on the
kids. He didn’t think he could bear for little Amy to
look at him as if he were a beast.
“It’s just a story, Marcus,” Melody said. “The
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kids like it because it helps them focus on what’s
inside them instead of worrying about their outward
appearance.”
He grunted. “I suppose Charlotte supplied the
names.”
Melody smiled, giving him his answer.
He rubbed a hand over his jaw then through his
hair as if he’d suddenly grown a shaggy beard and
mane. “Do I really act like a beast?”
“When I first met you, I thought you were a
teddy bear...”
“But?”
“Well, to be honest, the last few months, since
the party at the mayor’s house, you’ve been a real
grouch. That’s why—”
“Don’t go there, Mel,” he warned. “I haven’t
forgiven you for your part in all this.”
She sighed then shrugged and turned back to
the tree. “You will when you finally get your head
out of your ass and see the truth. You might have
been the prince in that story, but Charlotte
designated herself as the witch.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” When she only
shrugged again, he pressed for an answer. “Are you
telling me Charlotte isn’t what she seems?”
Not that it was the first time he wondered if
he’d been right all those years ago when he first met
Charlotte at one of Chad’s frat parties. He’d watched
her all night and had seen her mask slip when she
thought no one was looking. She had seemed almost
tired, as if it took every ounce of energy to keep up
the façade. He’d been certain there was more to her
than she allowed everyone to see, more than the
flamboyant personality and outrageous clothing.
That beneath her flirtatious manner and sultry
smile lay a frightened and vulnerable soul.
In the next moment he knew he’d been mistaken
when she began to dance on the coffee table, drawing
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the attention of every male in the room as she
writhed to the music in the skimpiest dress he’d ever
seen. He’d written his assumption off as a trick of
the lights.
“If you really want to know,” Melody said.
“You’ll use your time together to figure it out.”
She left him to ponder that bit of advice, and
Marcus wanted to growl like the beast he’d been
compared to as he turned to hang the rest of the
ornaments. He should have known he wouldn’t get a
straight answer from Charlotte’s best friend and
loyal protector.
He slanted a look at the woman who had become
an enigma to him. Sitting on the floor amongst
children the other high society women in the room
hadn’t known how to deal with, she appeared the
epitome of a true and compassionate lady. Exactly
the kind of woman he had always intended to choose
as a wife.
Yet, not for one moment did he believe she had
changed just because she hid her feelings from the
children. Her praise of him to Amy hadn’t been real.
Nor did he think she’d forgiven him for the things
he’d said to her the night of the auction. He winced,
remembering some of them. While he
had
apologized, hell, he hadn’t meant it. Only at Mitch’s
insistence had Marcus realized she too had been
deceived and was paying the consequences and that
his manners bordered on atrocious.
Still, if Melody’s implication and his own gut
instinct could be counted on, then the things he had
learned about Charlotte today might be worth
exploring. Of course, he had his work cut out for
him. It would take some digging. But he intended to
peel away her exterior layers one by one, stripping
her bare if need be, until certain he had completely
exposed the woman beneath, leaving her nothing to
hide behind.
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Marcus caught himself smiling and wondered
what the hell he had to be so happy about. He could
only accomplish the task
if
he could get past her
anger over the way he’d treated her. And
if
he could
control his libido when she reverted to her usual
relentless aggression and her naturally sensual
behavior.
He groaned at the prospect of going up against
Charlotte again. It was the hardest thing he’d ever
done; he almost hadn’t survived. But by God, he had,
and he’d proven he could be selfless. Hell, he
deserved a damned medal for his sacrifice in the
garden. If he could do that, he could manage
anything. He could resist temptation—heaven help
him—and show her once and for all she didn’t have
to flaunt her charms to gain a man’s attention, that
she had more to offer than her body.
And if only for the sake of his injured pride, he
would prove to Charliss that Marcocious wasn’t so