The Marilyn's: Sorry Charlie Part 4

He hadn't brought his car on the off chance she'd volunteer to take him home.

"I wonder, what the odds are of an ax murderer overpowering me while I'm driving my own car?" She opened the tiny black clutch purse she was holding and pulled out a key fob. She clicked it and the lights flashed on a red BMW M6 convertible.

The car was a bit flashy, but it was fun and totally suited her.

"I'd look it up for you, but my phone died." It really had. He'd purposefully not charged it, again on the off chance she'd take him home because he couldn't call for an Uber.

There was no way around it. For the first time since he'd been doing this kind of work, he felt slimy.

"Just so you know, I have a permit to carry concealed, and I'm a very good shot." She didn't sound threatening, just making conversation.

"Duly noted. Plus, I don't want to p.i.s.s Mama off. I googled Lorena Bobbitt before my phone died. That woman scares the h.e.l.l out of me." Wagner felt his whole body cringe. Lorena had cut off her husband's p.e.n.i.s. True, she had been a victim of domestic violence, but then why didn't she cut off his head instead of his p.e.n.i.s?

He opened the driver's-side door for Charlie, made sure her full-length dress wouldn't catch in the door, and then closed it for her. He ran around to the pa.s.senger's side and got in. It had been a long time since he'd had this much fun on a date.

Her eyes scanned his body like she was using her X-ray-vision goggles to check him for weapons.

"What?" He grinned.

"I can't figure out where you've hidden your ax." She thought about it for a second. "I guess you could have a portable one with pieces hidden in several places, but that would take time to put together."

He couldn't help but laugh. "I left my ax at home. I promise."

She shook her head. "Worst ax murderer I've ever met." She started the engine. "Are you hungry?"

"What, you didn't love the rubbery chicken, still-frozen green beans, and fake mashed potatoes they served tonight?" He had no idea why all b.a.l.l.s, conferences, and weddings seemed to serve the very same menu. On the plus side, the bad food gave him a chance to continue his date with Charlie. "Wait a minute, you said that this was New Orleans and all of the food was good."

"I lied." She pulled out of the parking lot. "I feel like gelato."

"Is New Orleans known for their gelato?" He wasn't ready for the night to end. He just wanted to hang out with her to see what else she'd do.

"Brocato's is. You won't find better gelato outside of Italy. Actually, the last time I went to Italy, the gelato wasn't as good as Brocato's." Charlie sounded like she hated to dis the Italians, but she had to call them as she saw them.

"I'm sold. You had me at gelato." He liked a woman who ate regular food. Once, he'd dated a model who only ate romaine lettuce and drank water-and lettuce was already mostly water. Lettuce three meals a day. No variety and no salad dressing. She'd been hangry all the time.

"Brocato's also has Italian desserts that are wonderful." Charlie looked both ways before pulling out into traffic. "Too bad it's after seven or we'd get a Hansen's s...o...b..ll. Best New Orleans s...o...b..ll ever."

"What is that, like a snow cone?" He hadn't had a snow cone since he was a kid. They didn't qualify as adult food.

"Yes and no. s...o...b..a.l.l.s are a finer shaved ice, like snow. Hansen's makes all their own syrups so there's nothing artificial. Chocolate cream is my favorite. It's like the best fudgesicle you've ever had." Charlie had become very animated when talking about food. So she was a foodie. Her tight-toned body suggested otherwise.

"I'd love to try a s...o...b..ll. How about after breakfast tomorrow?" He congratulated himself on not asking if he should call her in the morning or nudge her.

"Is this where you ask me if you should call me or nudge me in the morning?" She kept her eyes on the road, but he could see a faint outline of a smile on her face.

"I actually had to press my lips together to keep it from coming out." d.a.m.n, he should have kept his lips pressed together to keep that from coming out.

"I like that the filter from your brain to your mouth only works intermittently." She glanced at him, winked, and then turned her attention back to the road. "I bet that particular trait doesn't serve you well with all of your celebrity clients back at the law firm where you're pretending not to work."

"I'm a contractor. I build and restore houses." He tried to sound convincing.

"Right, because every contractor I know has an Armani tux they bring with them on out-of-town trips on the off chance they might need it." She looked him up and down. "You're an attorney. I just don't know yet if Jerome hired you to spy on me, but I'll figure it out soon."

"I don't know what you're talking about." He turned his head and looked out the pa.s.senger's-side window in case his face betrayed him. He'd never had any issues with lying to women until her. Unfortunately, she inspired honesty in him. Not good for business and really not good for him. "Who's Jerome?"

"My ex-sort-of-fiance." She sounded so blase.

"How was he sort of your fiance?" To hear Jerome tell it, she'd practically begged him to marry her.

"Just because he bought me a ring, my answer was a foregone conclusion. That part's on him. The fact that I gave up on trying to correct him is on me." Charlie's version seemed way more plausible than Jerome's.

It said a lot about her that she was willing to take some of the blame.

"This sounds really bad, but I literally left him at the altar." She threw up a hand like a traffic cop. "That's terrible, I know. I should have handled it differently. I feel bad about that."

It sounded like she really did feel bad. Would someone Jerome had described as a self-centered party girl really feel guilty about anything? Also, did getting gelato at 8:30 p.m. const.i.tute being a party girl? Maybe afterward she was going out for a night on the town that included bottle service and snorting c.o.ke until five in the morning.

He watched her as she flipped on her turn signal and then cautiously changed lanes. Nah, the role of party girl didn't fit.

"You're staring at me. It's creepy... stop." She glanced in the rearview mirror.

"Sorry. I still can't get over your lack of spoiled rich girl." h.e.l.l, if he'd been born with the kind of old money she had and a father who was governor, there was no telling what kind of trouble he'd have caused. Then again, he wasn't much for partying. Now, his baby brother, Sawyer, was another story. The good brother and the bad brother. He'd learned the art of "fixing" by having to cover for his brother's escapades their entire lives. Their mother had often said that if she dropped them both off in a foreign country and told them to find their own way home, Wagner would get a job, save his money, and buy a plane ticket. Sawyer would hook up with the richest lady he could find and fly home on her private jet with a full-blown entourage.

Could he count covering for Sawyer as pro bono?

"So, you're in town remodeling a house?" He could hear her one eyebrow arch rather than see it.

"Yes." He had a feeling she already knew the truth about him.

"That's so odd." She didn't take her eyes off the road.

"Why?" Dread tickled his throat. He should have stuck with his original cover story of being an architect. He'd taken one look at her in that Santa's Favorite Ho s.h.i.+rt and his cover story had gone out the window.

"Because the Duplantis House is still for sale. There was one buyer but he wanted to tear it down to build some tacky condos. The Orleans Parish Historical Society got an injunction and the buyer walked away. Now the historical society is raising money to buy it." She didn't sound smug so much as matter-of-fact.

Oh c.r.a.p.

He went in for the save. "I work for the Orleans Parish Historical Society. They hired me to come take a look at the house and see what repairs need to be made." There, that sounded plausible.

"Huh, that's odd." She shot him a smile. "I'm on the board of directors of the Orleans Parish Historical Society and I don't remember hiring you."

"Wow, I totally walked into that one didn't I?" What else could he say? He knew when to admit defeat. He'd been busted big time.

"Yes, but I give you credit for sticking with your stupid story until the very end." She didn't sound mad.

"I guess we're done." He was sitting six inches from her, but he already missed her.

"Not necessarily. Tell me the truth and I'll decide your fate." She took the entrance ramp to the freeway.

He was tempted to do just that. "My real name is Wagner Scott and I'm an attorney." He took a deep breath and told her another lie. "I work for a foreign investor who's interested in the Duplantis House. That's all I can say. Don't ask me any more."

"And what, you came into the bar to meet me so you could scope out the other potential buyer?" She shook her head. "At least my ex-fiance didn't send you." She took her eyes off the road for a brief second to look at him. "Do you know he actually hired a man to wine and dine me just so he could get back at me?"

"That's really terrible." So Wagner wasn't the first man Jerome had hired to take Charlie out. Jerome had failed to mention that. "What happened to your fake suitor?"

"As soon as I found out, I broke things off." She thought about it for a second. "That's not entirely true. It was never really on. Michael was more of a handy date to have around so I wouldn't have to go alone to social engagements. Only, now he keeps popping up at my house to ask me to marry him. I'm guessing he gets some sort of bonus if he leaves me at the altar."

"Or he's really in love with you." Wagner tried to laugh that off, but he could see how easy it would be to fall in love with her. She was gorgeous, vulnerable, smart, easy-going, and, well, pretty d.a.m.n loveable in every way.

"I seriously doubt it. Any man who takes a job romancing a woman for money isn't capable of emotion. Think about it, how could he live with himself?" She sounded completely baffled by that one. Of course she would be. She didn't have a dishonest bone in her body.

When she found out the real truth about Wagner, he'd never get to see her again. That thought hurt more than it should. He'd never been in love-didn't believe in it-but he could see that falling for her would be forever. She wasn't someone a man ever got over.

Charlie pulled into an angled parking s.p.a.ce in front of a darkened storefront. The unlit neon sign out front read, A. Brocato Spumoni and Ca.s.sata Ice Cream.

She opened the driver's-side door before he could make it around to do it for her, but he opened Brocato's front door a split second before she could. He held it open for her and then followed her in.

"Sorry, we're closed," a male voiced called from somewhere in the back.

"Germaine, it's just me." Charlie stepped around behind the counter, grabbed an ap.r.o.n and a flat ice-cream scooper, and smiled up at Wagner. "The pastries are already put away, but the gelato's still here. What would you like?"

"Are you sure you should be doing this?" It would look very bad if the daughter of the sitting governor was arrested for stealing gelato.

So now he was worried about her welfare?

When exactly had he switched sides?

About two seconds after b.u.mping into her.

A teenaged boy stuck his head out a swinging door that must have led to the kitchen. "Hey, Charlie." He checked the clock on the wall. "Can you finish closing up? I've got a hot date."

"You bet." She waved bye with the ice-cream scoop.

The boy, Germaine, walked out the front door and then turned back. "I don't suppose you'd put in a good word for me with Mandy?"

She tilted her head to the left in a yeah-right look. "If you're so into Mandy then why do you have a hot date with someone else?"

"Just marking time until your niece comes to visit you again." Germaine shot her a dazzling smile. "Don't forget to lock up behind me or you'll be serving gelato all night." He waved as he walked out the front door, and he called over his shoulder, "Same deal as last time."

"I've got it covered." She waved back and then looked at Wagner and nodded toward the front door. "The key's in the door. You might want to close and lock it. If we don't we'll be here all night."

"Do you work here too?" Every time he thought he had her figured out, some new facet of her personality made an appearance.

"No, the Brocatos are old family friends. I grew up coming here. My mother brought me, and then after she died a long line of nannies brought me here." He'd known her mother had died when she was six. It must have been hard for her. And lonely.

Wagner's mother, Joann, was very involved in her sons' lives, and he wouldn't have it any other way-which was convenient because Joann Scott never took no for an answer.

Charlie rarely mentioned her father. Was she purposefully leaving him out because she didn't trust Wagner, or did he not play that much of a role in Charlie's life? It must be the former, because she was his campaign advisor after all. Considering that Wagner had lied to her and was still lying to her, trust wasn't something she should ever give him.

It was weird, but he cared what she thought of him. In his line of work, it didn't pay to care about anyone but himself.

"Spumoni." She set a clear gla.s.s bowl down in front of him with a perfect slice of the light-green, brown, and pink dessert. She handed him a spoon and kept one for herself. "Try it, it's good."

He scooped up a small piece and slipped it into his mouth. Strawberry, chocolate, and pistachio sweetness swirled around his tongue. It was fantastic.

Charlie took a piece and slipped it into her mouth. She closed her eyes and smiled from ear to ear in complete bliss. Christ, he'd give anything to have her look at him like that.

"What's wrong? You don't like it?" Charlie looked up at him, confused. She patted his hand. "That's okay. Let me fix you my absolute favorite."

If spumoni wasn't her favorite but clearly gave her so much pleasure, then what would her favorite cause her to do? He couldn't wait to see.

She stepped behind the counter, picked up a clean scooper from a basket, scooped up a healthy dose of dark chocolate, rinsed the scooper, and then dipped up the same amount of salted caramel.

"Now, this combination is sure to convert even the most ardent of gelato haters." She set the bowl down in front of him.

Wagner slid his spoon through the middle, getting a little of each flavor. He slid the bite into his mouth. It was just the right amount of salty, chocolaty, and sweet. He closed his eyes and took a turn on the bliss wagon. "That is amazing."

"I told you." She scooped up a bite of her own.

"If everyone's gone, how do we pay for this?" Everything but the gelato case was locked up tight. He didn't even see a tip jar.

"We're working it off." She took another bite.

There was definitely something she wasn't telling him. "How?"

"We have to mop the floors." She grinned. "Not afraid of a little work are you?"

"No, ma'am, only you're wearing a fancy dress and I'm in a tux. How do you propose we mop the floor while wearing couture?" It was his turn to grin. "If you're thinking we should do it naked, I'm one hundred percent behind that plan." He clamped a hand over his mouth. The most idiotic and somewhat insulting things kept falling out of it.

"I love it when stupid things pop out of your mouth and you're powerless to stop them." She stood, leaned over and grabbed the hem of her dress, and tucked it under the one strap at her shoulder. Now it barely covered her a.s.s. She kicked off her shoes and set them on the table. The she went about stacking the chairs on top of the tables.

"You really are going to mop the floor." He'd thought she was kidding. He stood and started stacking chairs. "I have to say, you're the strangest governor's daughter I've ever known."

"Oh yeah, how many do you know?"

"You've got me there." He'd never met anyone quite like her.

Chapter 6.