things like bra straps showing or visible panty line. But Charlie always seemed composed and confident within herself.
She wasn’t a fussy dresser, either. Her black fitted shirt and tailored pants were well cut and conservative, and she wore no jewelry to speak of. He couldn’t help contrasting her appearance with the way she’d looked that night at Café Sydney. Sultry and sexy and mysterious. Looking at her now, it was almost impossible to believe that it had been the same woman. Not that she wasn’t attractive and sexy in a far more subtle way in her current outfit, but there was definitely a Jekyll and Hyde thing going on as far as her appearance went.
“Is something wrong? Did I get lipstick on my teeth?”
He realized he was staring and that she’d finished checking her hair and makeup.
“No. You’re fine. You look good.”
She shook her head slightly in instant negation of his comment. “I wasn’t fishing for a compliment.”
“I didn’t think you were.”
She busied herself readying her handbag, but he’d have to be blind not to notice the pink flush on her cheeks.
“We should go in.” She opened her door and slid out of the car.
He hesitated before following her. He wasn’t sure what the blush was about. Self-consciousness? Discomfort because he’d all but admitted he found her attractive? Although how that could be a surprise to her after the night they’d shared together, he had no idea.
He climbed out and locked the car before joining her on the sidewalk.
“Careful of the crack on the pathway,” he said as he led her toward the house.
She nodded, the movement a shadow in the darkness. He could smell her perfume, something that reminded him of orange blossom. Despite having already offered a warning, he couldn’t stop himself from taking her elbow when they reached the crack in the walkway.
“Thanks,” she said.
“These steps can be a bit tricky, too.”
His parents had forgotten to leave the porch light on and the front of the house was dark with gloom. He guided Charlie up the steps with a hand on the small of her back, worried she’d trip.
“Thanks,” she said again, but there was an unevenness to her tone that made him peer closer at her face.
Sure enough, she was smiling.
“What’s so funny?”
“I’m pregnant. I haven’t forgotten how to walk or climb stairs.”
“Sorry.” He felt stupid. Of course she could find her way up three concrete steps, even in the dark.
“I wasn’t complaining. It’s just…strange to be fussed over.”
“Not much fussing in the R.A. Sigs?”
“Not really, no.”
“I’m guessing there’s going to be more fussing from everyone once you start to show.”
“I’ll work on getting used to it.”
He was smiling as he reached out to give his customary arrival knock before opening the door. Warmth rushed out—as well as the sound of too many Walkers in one space.
“Brace yourself,” he said as he led Charlie toward the back of the house.
She shot him a quick, startled look. Then she smiled, and it was only because he was beginning to know her that he understood she’d put on her social face and that the real Charlie was somewhere behind that small, easy smile. He felt a sudden, strong urge to put his arm around her, to guide her into his family in the same way that he’d guided her past the cracked pavement and up the steps.
Instead, he preceded her into the kitchen, stepping to one side so there would be room beside him. As he’d suspected, every eye turned to him and the volume dropped dramatically. His stomach gave an absurd, anxious squeeze and he turned to glance at Charlie. She was a little pale, but that small smile was holding and there was a determined light in her eyes.
“Everyone, this is Charlie Long. Charlie, this mob of reprobates, commie-pinko-lefties and mad people is my family.”
He went on to introduce Charlie to his mum and dad, then his brothers and sisters and in-laws, and finally the children. Charlie shook hands and maintained steady eye contact and responded to every conversational sally that came her way in a clear, confident voice. He hovered at her side throughout, watching his brothers’ and sisters’ faces, ready to run interference if anyone said anything to make Charlie feel uncomfortable.
But everyone was on their best behavior and soon Charlie was having a glass of nonalcoholic cider pushed into her hand and the volume was rising as everyone broke into smaller conversations.
“I hope you like Italian, Charlie. Kim and Becky are suckers for