“So you see why we shouldn’t be sitting here right now.”
“It hasn’t stopped us before. What is different?” Charles asked.
She looked around the room and then turned back to him. “This. All of this.”
“My kitchen is the deal breaker?” he asked jokingly. That was a stupid thing to say, because she wasn’t in the mood for laughter.
Her tone took a higher pitch as she said, “This has nothing to do with appliances, Charles, and you know it. I’m a girl from a small town who likes living in her small world. You create big cities. You’re always striving for bigger, grander, higher. We’re nothing at all alike.”
Charles needed to keep the focus away from Lawson Steel and on him. “I’m the guy who enjoys the fireworks in a park. Who likes PB&J. And looks forward to hearing your voice and seeing your face. If you question that, think back to the stories Mama told you. I’m that guy.” He hated saying it, but had to. “I’m Charlie.”
Rosslyn sat staring at him. “You look like him, act like him, and talk like him. But I don’t know which is real and which isn’t. No one can live two lives for long. One always consumes the other. And to be honest, Charles, I can’t see Charlie being the winner of that battle.”
Damn her. It was a reality he didn’t want to face either. Since taking over as CEO, the fun, easy-going Charlie seemed to have almost vanished. It wasn’t until he met Rosslyn that he’d desired slowing down a bit and enjoying life. He’d been pushing full speed ahead with one goal: bring Lawson Steel to number one, worldwide. Fun? There was no time for that shit. Yet, somehow she had him squeezing some in. It felt damn good.
Rosslyn worked for Maxwell, so she knew what it took to manage companies like these. Although their tactics were very different, their drive and dedication to succeed wasn’t.
She was sexy and beautiful and so damn insightful as well. She wasn’t a prize to be won. Sal’s mother had been right, Rosslyn was a gem to be treasured. He’d been trying to avoid talking about certain things so as to not fuck things up between them. The lack of being forthcoming, might be his downfall. Charles tried calculating risk as he would in a business deal. A relationship, not that he was ready to define this as such, was a hell of a lot more complex. Makes my contracts easy to figure out.
All he needed was to think of some way to prove to her he was a blend of both. If not, he might just lose her. Hell, who am I kidding? Rosslyn is too damn good for me. But I’ll be damned if I’m just going to let her walk out of my life. Not without a fight.
There was no flower or gift that would show her how special she was to him. She wasn’t materialistic. But he wasn’t Mr. Romantic, so the words didn’t flow from him like a poem either. Hell, he couldn’t even find the right words to explain what was going on within him right now.
Panic? Desperation? Fear?Over losing a woman I met about a week ago? Am I nuts? Have I totally lost my mind?
This line of thinking didn’t fit his character at all. Then again, neither did taking off for a weekend to meet someone’s parents. It was like she had spiked his drink, and it had a long-lasting effect. Charles wasn’t sure how or when that happened. It felt like he was on a construction site and someone whacked him in the back of the head with a two-by-four board. The wind was knocked out of him, his head spinning, making him feel a bit dazed. A very unfamiliar feeling.
Talking her into staying for dinner gave him some hope. Yet the look in her eyes said she really didn’t want to be there. He could only imagine what Rosslyn was feeling right now. God, she probably doesn’t trust a thing I say.
“I’m not going to lie to you, Rosslyn. I should’ve told you before, but things were so comfortable between us that I didn’t want that to change.”
“They were,” Rosslyn said softly. “But now I realize there is so much I don’t know about you. It’s like we jumped from A to Z.”
“And you regret it?” He hoped to hell she didn’t. Charles had a few regrets but not over what they had shared together. It had been amazing.
“No. If I had to do it over, I would. But I just wish that . . . that we were more compatible.”
“I thought we were. What changed? The fact that I’m the CEO of Lawson Steel?”
“CEO? You mean—Oh God, that’s even worse than I thought,” she said, her eyes wide in shock. “I thought maybe you worked for your father or something.”
“I did. He retired a few years ago and my five brothers and I run it. Being the oldest, and most experienced, I fell into the CEO role.” There was a lot more to it, but for now, it explained some of the dynamics.
“So you’re not just his rival, but you’re his . . . equal.”
She was once again comparing him to Maxwell. He didn’t like his name in the same sentence as the scumbag. Usually his focus was on Maxwell too, but right now, Charles wanted him out of this conversation. He reached across the table and touched her hand. “Let’s start again. I’m Charles J Lawson the Seventh. I’m thirty-eight years old. I’m a Leo. My favorite food is whatever someone else cooks for me. I like to do just about anything outdoors except jog or run, never saw the point. When I was younger and had more time, I played the saxophone and dreamed of being in a band. I’m not because it sounded better in my head than my music teacher told me it actually was. So I did what came natural and followed in my family’s footsteps. Now I run Lawson Steel. And what about you?”
He saw her lips slightly curl a few times, which was a positive sign. And she didn’t pull away from my touch.
“Fine. Okay. I’m Rosslyn Clark, and I’m thirty-one, but I only admit to being twenty-nine. I’m an only child, which you know. I grew up in Alexandria Bay, which you know. My parents, you have met.” She glared at him and continued, “Somehow you knew a lot more about me than I did you.”
“I’m trying to correct that.” So far it seemed to be working. A two-way conversation was a hell of a lot better than the alternative. The dreaded silence treatment.
“You are. I’m glad. Let’s see. You know I don’t like living in the city and that my tastes are . . . simple. What you don’t know is I can cook a lot more than a PB&J, given enough time.”
Charles smiled. “I don’t know, strawberry jam is my favorite.”
“Maybe your taste is a lot simpler than I thought,” Rosslyn said.