The Billionaire Playboy

I sure picked a hell of a time to come home. Charlotte O'Brien, or Charlie as her friends called her, sat in the darkened living room of her family's bed and breakfast, The Victorian Rose. Outside, Hurricane Andrea raged with gale force winds exceeding 110 miles per hour. As expected the hurricane arrived in the northeastern part of Massachusetts in the early morning hours. While it was not the first hurricane she had experienced in her life, it was the fiercest she could remember.

She could hear the howling winds outside as they caused the branches from nearby trees to slam into the side of the house. A constant deluge of rain pelted the windows, which rattled from time to time under the onslaught. Frequently she'd see debris fly by the window. The most recent object looked like siding from a nearby house. So far her family and their home remained unscathed, but what about the rest of the town? Charlie reached for the battery-powered radio and switched it on. After several tries she got a local AM station to come in. The faceless voice of the radio announcer filled the silent room. “Severe flooding is already being seen on Church Street.”

This announcement came as no big surprise. It had poured almost every day the previous week and the waterlogged ground and swollen rivers couldn't accommodate this new round of rain.

The sound of shattering glass, followed by a crash, filled the room and blocked out anything else the radio announcer may have said. Without a second thought Charlie jumped to her feet and yanked her mother off the couch in front of the windows and pushed her toward a chair in the corner. At the same instant her brother Sean burst into the room.

“A tree just went through the dining room window. Take Ma into the basement.” After giving his order Sean disappeared upstairs, his huge Irish Wolfhound, Max, following at his heels. She hated to admit it, but she should have thought of that sooner. The basement was the safest place during a hurricane.

“Come on Ma, let's go.” Charlie grabbed the battery-powered radio and flashlight next to her and stood.

“What about Sean?” Maureen O'Brien sat perched on the edge of a chair, her face pale and her hands gripping the arms of the chair.

For half a heartbeat anger and resentment surged through Charlie. Why couldn't the woman ever do anything she asked? It was always about Sean. Almost as soon as the emotions came on they disappeared. Circumstances outside everyone's control had created a much tighter relationship between her mother and older brother. It wasn't fair to either of them to resent it—it wasn't as if her mother didn't love her. Sean was her mother's rock and had been since that day seventeen years earlier when her dad walked out on them. That day Sean became the man of the house. “Sean wants us downstairs now. He'll be down soon.”

With some reluctance Maureen came to her feet and, as usual, Charlie felt like a giant standing next to her mother. At five feet eight inches she towered over her mother who barely reached five feet. Despite the height difference there was no mistaking them for mother and daughter. Both had thick red hair, and hazel eyes that seemed to change colors depending on their mood.

Using her flashlight, Charlie led her mom through the dark house toward the basement door, a door she could have found even without the bright beam of light. Having grown up in the old Victorian she knew every nook and cranny of the house. Without even thinking she instinctively flipped the light switch then felt like an idiot when nothing happened.

“Be careful,” Charlie said over her shoulder as she started down the steep wooden stairs.

The beam from her flashlight bounced off the rock walls as the familiar scent of the basement enveloped her. She hadn't stepped foot in the basement in years, yet she would have recognized the smell anywhere. Since the basement remained remarkably dry her mom hung fresh herbs down there making it constantly smell like basil and rosemary. Some things just never changed.

Behind her she heard the bottom step creak, as it had for years, letting her know that her mother had safely made it down the stairs.

“I hope everything is all right out there.”

Was her mom serious? A hurricane raged outside. Though a smart reply was on the tip of her tongue, Charlie held it back. When her mom was upset she had a tendency to ignore the obvious. So instead of saying anything she headed over to a partitioned-off section of the basement where her brother kept his pool table and several folding chairs.

After taking down the battery-powered lantern on the shelf and turning it on, Charlie sat in one of the stiff plastic folding chairs and listened to the news reports coming over the radio.

“Reports are coming in that the Stonefield Dam shows signs of giving out. Anyone living near the dam or along the river should leave the area immediately.” The faceless voice came through the radio, causing a ball of dread to form in the pit of Charlie's stomach. The area around the river and dam was heavily populated. If the dam let go a lot of people could be hurt. Unfortunately, there wasn't a thing she could do about it. Instead of focusing on what she couldn't control, Charlie thought about the things she could. Right now that meant keeping her mom safe and calm until the storm passed.

“I noticed that you repainted the living room. It looks nice.” Idle chatter would help her mom pass the time and focus on something other than the hurricane and Sean's absence. Drumming her fingers on her leg she waited in the semi-darkness for her mom to answer.

“It hadn't been done in a long time. Sean thought it was a good idea,” Maureen replied as the sound of heavy footsteps coming down the stairs alerted them to Sean's arrival.

Before Charlie could comment further all six feet three inches of her brother appeared along with his giant dog. Immediately the smell of wet dog assaulted her senses. No wonder it had taken Sean so long to get down there. He'd gone outside. What had he been thinking?

“You two okay? The big maple near the shed just went down. The roots were ripped right out of the ground.” Sean pulled a chair next to Charlie's.

CHARLIE BLEW a strand of hair which had escaped from her bun out of her face and rolled her shoulders. Sweat trickled down her back causing her t-shirt to stick to her skin. More than anything she wanted a hot shower to wash away the grime and sweat covering her body.

Since early morning she'd been systematically going through town with the other volunteers checking on its citizens and assessing the damage. It wasn't a pretty sight. The once picture-perfect New England town looked as if a Navy bomber had dropped a missile on North Salem, Massachusetts. The most severe damage was down by the river where the dam once stood. The entire area now sat under several feet of water. Charlie and several others were slowly working their way to that end of the town. Toppled trees and downed power lines made the trip slow and dangerous. On the positive side though, there had been very few serious injuries reported. Most of the ones she'd seen or heard about involved gashes from breaking glass and thrown-out backs from moving tree limbs and other debris. With any luck it would stay that way.

Rolling her shoulders Charlie looked around at the other volunteers. Many of them leaned against trees or sat on the rain-drenched ground oblivious to the mud as they took a much-deserved break. Like her, most had started working hours earlier, the minute the storm passed. Despite the fatigue clawing at her body, Charlie didn't join the others. She needed to keep working. When there was work to do, she couldn't rest. After taking a long drink of water, she tossed the bottle back in her backpack and walked over to Tony Bates, the town administrator’s son.

“I'm gonna check on Mrs. Mitchell. No one I've talked to has seen her since before the hurricane.” Without waiting for a response she navigated her way across the minefield of fallen trees and debris toward the old widow's house. She had no idea how old Mrs. Mitchell was, but she guessed she had to be close to eighty. According to her mom, Mrs. Mitchell had been living alone since her daughter moved to North Carolina the previous summer.

The single-story ranch looked exactly as Charlie remembered when she'd taken piano lessons in the fourth grade. White paint covered the exterior while black shutters, several of which were missing, framed each window. The only differences were the shattered glass windows and the fallen trees. An empty hole occupied the spot where the doorbell should have been so Charlie pounded on the front door and waited for a response. When no answer came, Charlie looked through the nearest window but all she saw was an empty living room.

Maybe she went to the basement. Charlie took the steps two at a time. She'd spent enough time at Mrs. Mitchell’s house to know that the only way into the basement was through the bulkhead around the side of the house.

When she reached the bulkhead she found a young oak tree lying across it, making it impossible for her to open the door. Getting down on her hands and knees she pounded on the metal door. “Mrs. Mitchell it's Charlotte O'Brien,” she shouted. “Are you okay?”

“I can't get the door open,” a familiar soft voice answered, sounding frazzled.

Relief washed over her. The elderly woman was safe. “There's a tree covering the door. Are you hurt?”

“I'm hungry and cold, but not hurt.”

“Just sit tight and I'll have you out in no time.”

Although not huge, the tree would have to be cut up before it could be moved. Cupping her hands around her mouth she called out, “I need some help over here. Bring a chainsaw. Mrs. Mitchell is trapped in the basement.”

At the request for help several other volunteers stopped what they were doing and ran over. By the time the others arrived Charlie had already started to pull away some of the loose tree limbs. “Mike, just make the pieces manageable for now. You can cut them smaller later.”

Without questioning her orders Mike started the engine on his chainsaw and got to work.

“Kevin, help me with this one,” Charlie said as the first section of the tree was sliced off.

It took several trips but eventually Charlie and Kevin moved each section of the tree. Later they would need to be removed from the property but for the time being they were fine lying against the house's foundation.

“Thanks guys.” Charlie wiped her damp hands on her pants and walked back to the bulkhead door.

Before gripping the handle, Charlie again knelt down next to the door. “I’m going to open the door now, Mrs. Mitchell.” Wrapping her hand around the cold metal handle, Charlie pulled open the bulkhead door. The groan of rusty hinges assaulted Charlie's ears. Despite its cry of protest the door opened, and Charlie found Mrs. Mitchell huddled on the concrete stairway that led into the basement. The elderly woman looked tired and cold but otherwise fine. Just to be on the safe side, Charlie went down the stairs to offer Mrs. Mitchell help up.

“I didn't think anyone would find me.” With a bit of struggle Mrs. Mitchell came to her feet. “I forgot the cell phone my daughter gave me and I couldn't get the door open.”

“You had everyone worried. Let me help you up.” Charlie held out her hand. “Just to be on the safe side I want to check your vitals.”

It wasn't until after Charlie helped Mrs. Mitchell up the last step that she noticed the black Cadillac Escalade parked on the street and the two men standing near it. So the Falmouth Foundation sent its poster boy to the front lines, Charlie thought as she watched Jake Sherbrooke speak with Joseph Bates, Town Administrator. She knew the billionaire playboy was the head of the Falmouth Foundation, a disaster relief organization. The town administrator had mentioned that the foundation was arriving with some much-needed aid. However, she hadn't thought they would send him. From what she heard, he didn't strike her as the hands-on type. Rich spoiled men like him acted as the public face of organizations while everyone else did the real work. After all he was not only a member of the Sherbrooke Family, one of the richest families in America, but his father was the President of the United States.

At least he'll be out of here as soon as his photo op is done.

As Jake listened to the town official explain what damage the town suffered, he couldn't keep his eyes off the redhead barking out orders. He figured she could probably make a Marine drill instructor drop and give her fifty push-ups. Normally he didn't go for redheads. He'd always favored brunettes, but he couldn't keep himself from watching her as she helped an elderly woman from her basement. There was an aura of self-confidence emanating from her.

“Like other towns around here we have no electricity and many downed trees. The dam letting go is what really devastated us. All the neighborhoods near the river and lake are flooded. Those between Church Street and Lincoln are in the worst shape. Water levels in some spots have been measured at seven feet,” the town administrator explained.

Jake already knew about the dam. In fact that was why he'd chosen North Salem. “What about injuries?” Jake pulled his eyes away from the redhead who was sitting by the older woman, checking her pulse.

“Only three reported casualties. But there are lots of injuries and several people are still unaccounted for. Dr. O'Brien can give you a detailed medical report. She's been handling medical issues in the field.”

Jake made a note to check with Dr. O'Brien as soon as he finished with the town official. “How do things stand with shelters?”

“We've already started setting things up at the high school, but it won't be enough. There are not many places …” Before he could finish his cell phone rang. “If you'll excuse me, I need to take this call,” he said after checking the caller ID.

Jake nodded. “No problem.” Once the man walked away Jake surveyed the activity around him. It seemed as if everyone around him was active and the few that weren't were simply taking short water breaks. At the head of it all was the redhead. He couldn't help but wonder who she was. She didn't strike him as a town official, yet she gave the appearance of authority and people seemed to listen to her.

Unable to just stand around and do nothing while others worked, Jake figured the redhead was the person to ask where he could help. Ignoring the stares and whispers he got as he walked by, Jake made his way toward the elderly woman's house where the redhead was at work covering up one of the broken windows with some plywood. Stopping close enough so that she would hear him over the pounding hammer without shouting, but far enough away to avoid getting hit by her swings, he was momentarily speechless. From a distance the redhead was pretty, but up close she was downright beautiful. He guessed she was about five-foot seven or so because she stood only a few inches shorter than his six-one. Her fiery red hair was pulled back in a knot and the gray t-shirt and khaki cargo pants she wore did nothing to hide her figure.

“What can I do to help?” Jake asked watching the muscle in her well-defined upper arm flex as she swung the hammer.

“All set here, thanks.” The redhead answered without even pausing to look at him.

Despite her cool behavior, Jake wasn't deterred. There was plenty that needed to be done and he sensed that she could direct him to where he could be most useful. “Then point me to where I can help. That's why I'm here,” he snapped back, his voice smooth but insistent.

The redhead stopped in mid-swing and turned to look at him, her gaze meeting his eyes. “That other window needs to be covered. I promised Mrs. Mitchell I'd take care of this before I go.” The woman nodded toward an open toolbox on the ground. “If you don't want to do that Mary could use some help down at the high school setting up the shelter.”

Jake didn't miss the coolness in the woman's voice, but he chose to ignore it. Jake grabbed the hammer from the tool belt around his waist. “Not a problem Ms...”

“Doctor actually, Doctor Charlotte O'Brien.”

This was the doctor the town administrator mentioned! Interesting. With the hammer from his tool belt in one hand, Jake extended the other toward Charlotte. “Jake Sherbrooke.”

Charlotte accepted his extended hand. “I know,” she said, her mouth spread into a thin-lipped smile. “There is a lot to do. We better get back to work.”

She didn't wait for him to answer. Instead she went back to pounding nails and for the most part ignoring him. What is her deal, Jake wondered as he began working. It was obvious that she didn't think much of him. It wasn't a situation he ran into very often. Most people liked him, only occasionally did he come in contact with a wise ass who resented him for who he was – or at least who they thought he was. Thanks to the Sherbrooke name and the media, most of the country thought they knew him. The media liked to portray him as a carefree playboy who never thought of anyone but himself. He let everyone believe it didn't bother him, even his family. But he resented it.

Forget about it. Everyone's under a lot of stress. That's all it is. With thoughts of Doctor O'Brien pushed from his mind, he focused on pounding nails into plywood. He'd done the exact same thing on numerous occasions since starting the Falmouth Foundation, though the media always failed to include that bit in their stories about him. In fact, the media almost never mentioned the foundation when they did a piece on him. And when they did, it was as a side note. That didn’t surprise him; the American public preferred to hear about which actress he'd taken to the new movie premier or which model he'd taken to dinner.

Jake pounded the last nail into the wood with more force than necessary at the thought of the media vultures that seemed to shadow his every move. “All done with this one,” he said turning to look at the woman next to him. “Anymore?”

Doctor O'Brien put the final nail in the board covering her window then turned to face him before her eyes looked over at the plywood he'd hung. As he watched she ran her gaze over his work and Jake guessed that she expected it to fall at any minute.

“No. All set here. Thanks for the help.”

“Where to next?” He saw no reason to stop working now.

For a minute she stood eyeing him, her lips pressed tightly together. “I need to get back to treating injuries but you can take your pick. The Larsons across the street need help or you can check down the street.”

Jake looked across the street to where a man wielding a chainsaw worked by himself. It looked like as good a place as any to help. “Across the street it is.”

He felt the doctor's eyes on his back as he crossed the front lawn to the edge of the street, but he ignored it. Too much work remained for him to worry about one person's opinion of him.

As Jake approached, a burly man with a long light-brown beard that reminded Jake of a younger version of Santa, killed the engine on his chainsaw.

“Need some help over here?” Jake stopped in front of the dismembered tree trunk.

The other man's eyes narrowed for a moment as he studied Jake and he knew the second the younger version of Santa recognized him. The man's eyes grew wide and his eyebrows shot up.

“Aren't you the President's son?”

“Please call me Jake.” Jake extended his free hand. “I'm here with the Falmouth Foundation. What can I help with?”

“Phil Larson,” the other man said accepting Jake's hand. “I could use some help covering up this glass slider. Damn tree went right through. If I don't get it covered today my wife won't sleep in the house.”

“Let’s get to it then.”

Charlie took the last bite of the strawberry cereal bar she'd snagged from the pantry and hightailed it out of the kitchen before her mom could rope her into helping cook dinner. The bed and breakfast had no paying guests so her mom and brother had opened its doors to anyone who needed a place to stay. Although they still didn’t have electricity back they did have a generator, which meant hot meals and running water.

While she was proud that her family made such a gesture, she had no plans of helping in her mom's well-ordered kitchen. Cooking wasn't one of her skills. If a meal required much more than putting it on a tray in the oven, she was lost. Her mom knew this, so if she did ask for help, Charlie would find herself either washing and chopping vegetables or taking care of the dirty pots and pans. On a normal day she wouldn't mind helping her mom a little in the kitchen, but not today. Every muscle in her body ached and she suspected she could fall asleep standing up. It'd been a long day doing everything from treating injuries to boarding up broken windows. All she wanted to do right now was lay down because she knew tomorrow she'd be doing it all again.

Focused more on what tomorrow might bring, Charlie wasn't paying attention as she rounded the corner into the foyer and ran smack dab into a solid wall of muscle. Large male hands instantly gripped her shoulders to steady her, and the scent of pricey cologne mixed with sweat tickled her nose.

“Sorry about that.” Charlie's face burned as she took a step back. Now that she was no longer on top of the solid wall of muscle she'd almost run over, she found herself standing in front of none other than Prince Charming himself, Jake Sherbrooke. Despite what she thought of him and others like him, she had to admit he'd done his fair share of physical labor today, much to her surprise.

“If you're here about a room, we're all filled right now,” Charlie said unable to ignore the heat spreading through her body. Even with a sweat-stained face and the large scratch he'd gotten at some point during the day, he still caused her heart rate to accelerate.

Although she didn't think highly of billionaires who'd done nothing to earn their money but be born to the right parents, she couldn't deny that he was devastatingly handsome. No wonder supermodels and actresses dated the guy. He looked even better in person than he did in photos.

Jake released her shoulders and took a step back. “My assistant called earlier and reserved a room for me.” His tone remained even and his words were spoken without any hint of an accent.

Did he practice speaking like that? She'd met people from all over the country and everyone regardless of where they came from had some type of accent, but not him. If she didn't know he'd grown up in New England she'd never be able to guess where he'd spent his childhood from his voice alone.

“Mr. Sherbrooke your room is all set,” Maureen O'Brien said joining them, her flowered apron still tied around her waist. “We have you in the Hawthorne room. I'll show you up.”

Charlie remained silent as her mom and Jake Sherbrooke headed up the stairs. The Hawthorne room had been her bedroom before her mom started taking in boarders to help pay the bills. She'd been twelve when her father walked out and for a full year her mom struggled to keep them afloat. Then a friend suggested Maureen take in some college students from Salem State who didn't have a place on campus. Her mom had continued to do that until a few years ago when she and Sean turned the old Victorian into a bed and breakfast.

Using all the determination she had, Charlie dragged her body up the two flights of stairs to the attic. When the house had originally been built the bedrooms in the attic had been for servants, but since her father left she called the smallest one her bedroom.

The room looked the same as it had the day she left for college. Her mom never changed anything. Dark blue curtains still framed the one window and a light blue bedspread covered the bed. No one used the room. Her mom insisted that it be kept ready for Charlie's visits even though they were few and far between.

Stripping off her dirty clothes, she stepped into the shower in the tiny bathroom that separated her bedroom from what had been her brother's room. For a moment she stood under the stream of lukewarm water. The water in that particular bathroom never got hot but, with only a generator to power everything in the house, it was colder than usual. Despite the temperature the water felt wonderful as it cascaded over her tired body, and she took her time washing away the dirt and sweat.

Warm humid air greeted Charlie a few minutes later as she walked back into her room wrapped in a large faded blue bath towel that had at one time matched the painted walls. Like everything else in the room the towel had been there forever.

Man, were his eyes blue. Charlie caught a glimpse through the window of the Escalade parked outside as she pulled a clean shirt out of the bureau. She'd never seen eyes quite that blue. They reminded her of the sapphires in the heart-shaped pendant her mom owned. The only good piece of jewelry her mom had, it had belonged to Charlie's great-grandmother.

Thinking about Jake Sherbrooke's eyes had her thinking about some of the other attributes she'd noticed about him—the well-muscled chest that her hands had felt when she'd run into him in the foyer and the well-defined biceps she'd seen when he'd been working alongside the rest of the town boarding up windows and clearing debris.

Of course he has a great body; he probably has nothing else to do all day but workout. For a minute Charlie envisioned some of the sailors on the base back in Virginia. Sure some had great physiques but not all. Between their work obligations and families many didn't have the time it required. It's not like he has to work like the rest of us, Charlie thought, pulling her shirt over her head. Unlike her, he'd always had everything at his fingertips: the best clothes, the best cars, the best schools. Though her clothes had been clean they'd always come from consignment stores. She hadn't gotten her own car until after graduating from college, which she'd only been able to afford thanks to the Navy. People like him didn't know what the real world was like.

Charlie started to move away from the window but stopped when she saw movement below. Was she imagining things? After all, she had been standing there thinking about the man and the way he'd looked working today. Taking a step closer to the window she saw her brother and his Irish Wolfhound approaching Jake. After exchanging a few words, the two men started to tackle the large tree limbs covering the front walkway. Despite the fact that he'd already worked for several hours, Jake carried away the limbs once Sean cut them into more manageable pieces with his chainsaw.

Was he always this hands-on? Although there were plenty of other things she could be doing, Charlie stood at the window combing out her wet shoulder-length hair and watching the two men below. Every once in a while the humming of the chainsaw stopped and her brother moved to tackle another enormous limb or said something to their billionaire guest. Although she couldn't hear anything, Charlie guessed her brother was telling their guest some politically incorrect jokes, the only kind Sean knew, because more than once she saw Jake laughing.

“Find something useful to do with yourself.” Charlie tossed her hairbrush onto the bureau next to the envelope containing her retirement papers. Picking up the envelope she pulled out the half-completed documents and glanced over them. She'd started to fill them out before leaving Virginia but hadn't finished. At the time uncertainty held her back. She'd hoped some time away from the base and work would help her make a definitive decision. So far it hadn't happened. While she was leaning toward staying with the Navy a tiny part of her wanted to move on with her life.

As if her eyes had a mind of their own, Charlie glanced out the window when she heard her brother's chainsaw stop once again. “You’re pathetic.” Charlie tossed the documents down and headed toward the bedroom door. Even if her mom put her to work peeling onions it would be a more productive way to spend her time than standing and watching Jake Sherbrooke work. Too bad it wouldn't be as enjoyable.

A little later Charlie was halfway out of the kitchen carrying a platter covered with homemade biscuits, when Sean burst through the kitchen's side door. Jake followed right behind him gripping his left arm.

“Need you over here now, Charlie. Jake's bleeding.” Sean's usual confident tone contained a note of concern.

“I told you. It isn't that bad.”

For someone injured, Jake didn't sound that concerned to Charlie. Putting the platter down on the counter, she moved toward the kitchen table. “Have a seat and let me take a look. Sean, get me the first aid kit.”

Without any argument both men complied. And just like she would with any other patient, Charlie moved closer to get a better look at the bloody open wound which ran from just above his wrist to halfway up his outer forearm. Though the cut was long it didn't appear too deep.

“What happened?” She leaned down for a closer look.

“An old nail and some shards of glass got me when we were trying to get into that old shed.”

“When was your last tetanus shot?” Charlie reached for one of the clean wet towels Sean placed on the table along with the first aid kit.

DAMN IT. If he'd been paying attention to what he'd been doing rather than thinking about the redhead that was now cleaning the area around the wound, he wouldn't be sitting here now. He'd still be outside doing something useful rather than thinking about all the things he'd like to be doing with the good doctor, who didn't look all too happy at the moment.

“Beginning of the year.” The barest hint of vanilla teased him every time he inhaled and he knew it wasn't coming from some food in the kitchen. It had to be her shampoo.

Charlie nodded, her short ponytail swinging with the movement. “You can go to the ER if you want but it's not necessary. The cut isn't too deep. I don't think it will even leave a scar, but we'll have to watch for an infection.”

There was no way in hell he was going to the ER for a scratch, especially not when the town's residents were already facing some serious injuries. “Just clean and wrap it for me. I'll be fine, Doctor.” It'd been on the tip of his tongue to call her Charlotte, but he caught himself at the last second. She'd introduced herself as Doctor Charlotte O'Brien. That told him she didn't want to be on a first-name basis with him, which irked him for some reason although he didn't know why. Maybe because the rest of her family and the people he'd met today had been friendly. Sure he'd gotten a few stares from people but for the most part they'd accepted him into their fold as he worked alongside them. Not true of the good doctor. Her manner had been reserved and aloof from the moment he approached her. He tried to come up with reasons for her attitude, but none came to him.

“You sure he doesn't need stitches?” Sean asked. He remained next to the table as Charlotte worked.

Sean didn't strike him as a worrier by nature. Would Sean be this concerned if he was someone other than Jake Sherbrooke? “I trust the good doctor's judgment. It'll be fine.”

Charlie paused in the wrapping of his arm and looked up at him, surprise evident in her beautiful hazel eyes. This close, he could see the tiny flecks of green in them as well as her incredibly long eyelashes. What would her eyes look like glazed over with desire? Would the green flecks be more pronounced? Would the hazel darken?

Focus Jake. You’re not here looking for a woman. “It smells delicious in here.” Jake hoped to distract himself from the woman in front of him with some small talk.

Reaching for a roll of tape, she tore off a long piece and placed it on his arm. Unable to tear his eyes away, Jake watched her every movement. Her hands were slender with long fingers and short neatly trimmed nails. She wore no rings or nail polish, and with no warning the image of her hands on the rest of his body entered his mind.

“Thanks to our generator we'll all have a hot meal tonight. Ma made enough beef stew to feed a carrier.”

Charlie's voice drew him back to the kitchen. Disgusted with himself, he pulled his arm away. Most of the time he had better control than this. Fantasizing about a beautiful woman while sitting in her family’s kitchen wasn't something he normally did.

“Sounds good. Thanks for taking care of my arm. I can finish up from here.”

Without commenting she handed him the roll of tape and began to clean up the other supplies on the table. She tackled the task just like she seemed to do everything else, efficiently. He wondered if she was like that by nature or because of her Naval training.

“Sean said you’re in the Navy. Are you stationed in Virginia?” Jake tore off one last strip of tape and placed the roll back in the first aid kit. “I noticed a car in the parking lot with Virginia plates,” he said when she threw him a questioning look.

“Yeah. At least for now.”

Jake leaned back in his chair oddly pleased that the cold tone she'd used with him earlier in the day seemed to be thawing out a little. “I'm in Alexandria. Are they planning to transfer you to another base?”

Charlie studied him without saying a word. For a moment it appeared as if she was going to tell him it was none of his business.

“I am thinking about retiring.”

“Tough one.” Jake hoped he sounded sincere. If he was in her shoes he'd stay in a heartbeat.

She didn't answer but rather shrugged as she washed her hands in the kitchen sink. “Try to keep that clean and dry. I'll check it tomorrow. Supper is being served in the dining room whenever you're ready.” With her final statement she dried her hands and disappeared through the swinging door.

Jake stayed seated for several minutes. The picture of her tall lithe body was branded on his mind. She didn't seem to know the kind of effect she had on men. Under different circumstances he would pursue her with no questions asked, but now wasn't the time or place. Not to mention the fact that she seemed to be indifferent to him.

When his stomach growled in protest, Jake stood and pushed his thoughts of Charlotte out of his mind. He hadn't eaten anything other than energy bars since breakfast and the freshly baked biscuits he smelled were calling his name.

WHEN JAKE'S alarm went off the next morning at the crack of dawn, his initial instinct was to hit the snooze button, roll over and go back to sleep. Mornings were not his best time of day, especially this early in the morning, but when he glimpsed the ruffled canopy over his head he remembered where he was and more importantly why he was there.

Grabbing some jeans out of his duffel bag, he pulled them on before searching for a clean t-shirt. Since he'd showered just before hitting the sack the night before, it seemed unnecessary to take another one now. Besides, after the day he expected to have, he knew he would need one later anyway.

Downstairs he followed the voices to the dining room where Maureen O'Brien had set out cereal, muffins and bagels for breakfast. Jake skipped both and zoned in on the coffee where Charlie stood pouring herself a large mug.

“You're up early. I took you as more of a night person,” she said sparing him a quick glance.

Jake watched as she poured cream into her coffee. “I'm meeting with the town administrator in about thirty minutes to assess the damage down by the river. And the first shipment of supplies from the foundation is arriving later.”

Charlie didn't reply. Rather she studied him over the rim of her coffee mug. “Do you always go where the foundation gives out aid?”

Jake nodded. “There have been a few times that I haven't, but I try to get there.”

She made a surprised sound in the back of her throat but didn't comment.

He didn't know why she was surprised by his answer. She probably knew that he was in charge of the Falmouth Foundation. It wasn’t a secret. “You seemed surprised?”

Stepping away from the coffee so someone else could get some, she took a sip before answering. “I assumed you were more of a poster boy for the foundation. I didn't picture you as the hands-on type.”

Annoyance swept through his body. She didn't see him as the hands-on type after all the work he'd already done. “And how do you see me?”

Perhaps hearing the anger in his voice, Charlie's eyes narrowed and her back became ramrod straight. “You’re not exactly described as the hardest working man alive in the media,” she answered matter-of-factly. “According to them you're out with a different woman every night driving around in expensive cars. I assumed someone like that wouldn't be interested in physical labor.” Her tone wasn't rude. Rather she sounded as if she was reciting facts from a book.

The media was great at portraying people in a way that was best for their ratings. Very rarely did they get the truth right. This wasn't the first time someone had assumed he was nothing more than a spoiled rich playboy and he was confident it wouldn't be the last. Normally, he would shrug it off. If someone wanted to believe the media's image of him he wouldn't bother with them. However, this time it troubled him. For some reason, he wanted to prove the doctor wrong. He wanted to show her the real Jake Sherbrooke.

“I'm not going to lie. I like fast cars, but a different woman every night isn't my thing. You can't always believe what you read.” Jake clenched his teeth to keep his anger from creeping into his voice. “Why don't you spend the day with me? See what I really do.” He expected her to say no.

Tilting her head to the side she studied his face. “When do we leave?”

Jake forced himself not to smile. “Meet me by my truck in ten minutes.”

Once again Charlie nodded and then headed in the direction of the kitchen. Jake couldn't help but watch and admire her retreating form. There was no mistaking her confident no-nonsense step. By inviting her along he knew he'd made his day more difficult, but he didn't regret his invitation. Not one bit. Only an insane man would regret having a beautiful woman by his side all day.

AFTER UNWRAPPING the blueberry muffin he'd grabbed before coming outside, he raised it to his mouth. It was still warm from the oven and his mouth watered just looking at it. He bit into it just as his phone rang. With his free hand he pulled the smart phone from his pocket and checked the number.

Blair again. She'd called earlier that week and he thought he'd made it clear that he wasn't interested in getting back together. Part of him wanted to ignore the call and let it go straight to voice mail. If he answered all he'd get was a repeat of their past conversation. If he ignored the call though, she'd only call again. Swallowing his mouthful of muffin, he answered the phone. Better to get the conversation over with now. “I don't have a lot of time Blair. I have an important meeting soon. What's up?”

“I'm heading up to New York City this weekend and I wanted to see if you would join me. I thought maybe some time alone would be good for us.”

Jake held back a groan. Time alone would only accomplish one thing; to remind him how ill-suited they were for each other. “I'm in the field right now, Blair. I can't go anywhere.”

“Come on. You can sneak away for a weekend. Who'll know? There are others who can do the work.”

“Blair, I told you before I'm not interested. We had fun together but it’s over.” So far he'd tried to be polite about the whole thing but she just didn't get it.

On the other end of the line Blair droned on, but he didn't pay much attention as she reiterated their earlier conversation almost word for word. Instead his gaze focused on Charlie as she approached his SUV with a backpack slung over one shoulder and a travel mug in each hand.

“Listen, I've got to go. I need to head out for my meeting. Have a safe trip to New York.” Jake cut Blair off in mid-sentence. He heard Blair mutter goodbye right before he hit the end button and stuffed the phone back into his pocket.

“I thought we might both want some more coffee.” Charlie stopped next to him and handed him one of the mugs.

“You read my mind. Only had time for one cup inside.” Before she could do it herself, Jake pulled open the passenger door for her.

Surprise skittered across Charlie's face but she only murmured thanks before climbing into the front seat.

“So what's the best way to Church Street?” he asked as he climbed behind the wheel and started the engine.

CHARLIE CARRIED another case of bottled water into the senior center. Situated near the center of town it worked perfectly as a temporary supply distribution center. Outside there were several other volunteers helping to unload the trucks filled with bottled water and canned food, each one sent by the Falmouth Foundation. They had already unpacked one truck containing blankets and clean clothes for those in need.

After dropping the case next to the others she rubbed the dull ache in her back. She'd been working nonstop since climbing into Jake's truck that morning and her body felt it. First they'd met with the town administrator near the flooded areas of town. Together with the fire chief the four of them had gone out by boat so Jake could survey the damage firsthand before heading back to the town official's temporary office in the high school. The high school was one of the few buildings with electricity thanks to the generator supplied by the Falmouth Foundation. Workers were currently delivering the rest of the generators to other key buildings.

After a meeting to discuss what further aid and funds were necessary they headed over to the senior center and converted it into a makeshift distribution center. They finished the job a mere ten minutes before the first supply truck rolled in.

Charlie leaned against the wall. All around her people were coming and going. There wasn't a soul standing still including Jake Sherbrooke himself. When he wasn't carrying supplies off the trucks he was helping people take what they needed to their cars. He treated them all as equals. Never once did he put on any airs and, like the day before, there wasn't any media around taking note like she expected. She was still trying to get her head around that fact. According to what she'd seen yesterday and today, he wasn't at all what she'd expected. And she had to admit, if it wasn't for him and his foundation the town would be in much rougher shape. The governor in Boston had declared a state of emergency for most of the North Shore but few towns had been affected as badly as North Salem. Still, state aid was spread thin and so far they'd received little help from the state itself.

“All the trucks outside are empty. Sherbrooke said the next few won't be here for an hour or so. He wants everyone to take a break.” Michael Smith, a former high school classmate, said stopping next to her. “I'm heading home to check on things. “Want a ride?”

At the mention of Jake, she began searching for him. The last she'd seen of him he'd been helping Mr. Wilson carry supplies out to his ancient pickup. “I'm good Michael. I think I'll just stick around here in case someone needs help.”

“Suit yourself. See ya later.” With his final comment Michael headed towards the main doors with several other volunteers.

In no time the senior center was virtually empty of workers. Only a handful of volunteers remained to distribute items as residents stopped in.

After getting a bottle of water and an energy bar, Charlie pulled a folding chair over to the table and sat down. Damn, it seemed like every time she came home Mother Nature went crazy. The last time she'd come back a blizzard dropped 20 inches of snow on the state. The time before that an early winter nor’easter roared through New England. Maybe Mother Nature was trying to give her a hint. Maybe she should ask her family to visit her instead.

From across the hall, the sound of the main door opening and closing echoed. Looking up just in time, she saw Jake enter the building and she almost sighed like a lovesick teenager. Normally she didn't get all worked up when she saw a good-looking man. She certainly came into contact with enough of them in the military. But there was something about Jake that turned her insides to mush and sent her heart rate into overdrive.

“I thought you might have headed out with everyone else,” he said as he crossed the hall toward her.

Jake entered the room and it felt like the temperature jumped twenty degrees. Today he looked more like a hard laborer with his sweat stained Cal Tech t-shirt and torn jeans than a pampered playboy and Charlie's pulse leaped with excitement. She shrugged and reached for another bottle of water. “I thought I would stick around in case anyone showed up looking for something. Besides I'd only have to come back in a little while.” Charlie slid the water bottle across the table toward Jake before he could say anything.

Jake downed half the bottle in one long drink. “So what do you think?”

Focused on the perpetual five o'clock shadow Jake seemed to favor, Charlie didn't immediately realize he was talking to her. Typically she didn't like any facial hair on a man. It reminded her too much of her father; he'd always sported a full beard. She could do without any reminders of him. Even after all this time the pain caused by his leaving remained. Yet she didn't mind facial hair on Jake. On him it only added to his sexiness.

“Doctor?”

“Think about what?” What had he asked her?

“You more or less called me a lazy playboy this morning. What do you think now?”

His tone was cool and direct but Charlie thought she detected a hint of vulnerability. Did her opinion matter to him? Could this man, who had everything, be insecure?

“You're not lazy,” she answered without any hesitation. Man, she wished she'd chosen her words more carefully this morning. He'd been working just as hard if not harder than everyone else and not because he had to. He didn't live here, didn't have any family here. He could have just as easily directed everything from his office back in Virginia and had an assistant come out to give him updates. “Are you always this involved?”

Jake finished off his water and reached for an energy bar. “Just about. The foundation is my baby. I like to make sure it's being run properly. I can't do that by sitting behind a desk all day.”

If what she had seen here was any indication, the foundation and its employees ran like a well-oiled machine. Whatever else Jake Sherbrooke might be, he was a good leader. “I'm glad you offered aid. The town hasn't gotten a lot of support so far from the state.”

Jake rolled his shoulders as if trying to work out some stiffness and Charlie couldn't help but notice the way his chest muscles rippled under his shirt. Without warning, memories of how that chest felt under her hands when she'd crashed into him the day before filled her mind. The memory brought an instant twinge of desire to her insides, and she found herself wondering what it would be like to be held against his broad chest.

“The states have limited resources. They do the best they can but there's too much bureaucracy. That's one of the reasons I started the relief foundation.”

His words cut through her momentary day dream. “You started it?” She could hear the utter disbelief in her voice and the expression on Jake's face told her he had heard it as well.

“Even we playboys need something to do during the day when we are not cruising around in our expensive cars looking to pick up women.” Jake's voice was both sarcastic and amused at the same time.

Nice going. You've managed to insult him twice in one day. “I'm sorry. Really I didn't mean to...”

“You need to stop listening to the media, Doc. More than half of what they print is either pure BS or skewed beyond belief.”

Charlie opened her mouth to reply but the cell phone in Jake’s pocket went off at that exact moment.

“I need to take this. It's my assistant in Virginia.”

Without another word he left, leaving Charlie to wonder what else the media got wrong about Jake.

For the rest of the afternoon Charlie didn't see much of Jake. He had not spoken to her again after his phone call. Whether or not that was because he was annoyed by her earlier comments, she didn't know. After hanging up with his assistant he spent some time making other calls before the last few supply trucks rolled in and the volunteers returned to unload them. Every once in a while Charlie got the feeling that someone was watching her, but only once did she catch Jake eyeing her.

He's probably right, she thought as she helped carry things out to Mrs. Anderson's car. The news and media rarely got the important news right, so why would it get anything else right? Besides she should know by now not to judge a person without getting to know them. And even if Jake was a rich playboy who went from woman to woman it didn't matter right now. All that mattered was that the town got the help it needed.

Turning to head back inside, Charlie stopped when she saw a short chubby figure running up the road toward the senior center. At first the person was too far away to make out a face, but when the individual got closer Charlie recognized the runner. Jessica Quinn lived at the bottom on the hill with her grandparents.

Panting, Jessica all but collapsed at Charlie's feet when she reached her. “My grandfather...fell...off... the ladder. Can't … get...up. No...phone or ...car.”

Charlie didn't wait for Jessica to continue. She knew Jessica's grandfather and a fall from a ladder could kill a man his age. “Don't move.”

Without any hesitation Charlie bolted into the senior center. Thankfully Jake stood just inside when she entered. “I need a ride now.”

JAKE PULLED his keys from his pocket. “Let's go.” He didn't need any further explanation. He knew by her expression it must be important. Before he could say anymore, she rushed back out the door and was half way to his SUV.

“Where to?”

“Down the hill to the big old yellow house. Jessica's grandfather fell.” Charlie nodded towards the other woman who climbed into the backseat of the SUV. Charlie handed the woman her cell phone. “It's 911, tell them what happened.”

Gravel and dust kicked up as Jake sped out of the parking lot and he listened as Jessica answered the 911 dispatcher's questions from the backseat.

“He turned eighty last month. He wasn't moving when I left. Please hurry.” Jessica's voice quivered and he sped up. He could only imagine how she must be feeling.

There was no missing the huge monstrosity of a house with the crooked wooden sign hanging out front that read Blackthorne Farm; it was the only house on that stretch of road.

Before the truck came to a full stop Charlie opened the door and jumped out. Throwing the truck into park, Jake watched as she sprinted across the lawn toward the prone figure on the ground. Would it be better if he kept Jessica back at the truck, out of the way? An upset granddaughter might make the situation worse. Then again, Charlie might need help and who knew how long it might take for the EMTs to arrive. He'd passed the fire station on his way into town so he knew it was located on the other side of town.

Pulling the keys out of the ignition, Jake looked back at Jessica whose breathing remained labored from her run. “You're welcome to stay and wait here. I'm going to see if the doctor needs help.”

Jessica shook her head causing her light brown bangs to fall into her eyes. “I want to be with him and my grandmother.”

Jake could see the worry and fear etched on her tear-stained face. He could understand her desire to be with her family. After getting out himself, he pulled open her door and helped her out of the SUV. Then he grabbed the first aid kit from the trunk and he followed Jessica up to the house where a seven-foot ladder remained propped against the house. On the ground lay an unmoving figure, his white hair covered in blood and his left arm bent at an unnatural angle. Next to him sat a weeping woman with a long gray braid and glasses.

“He's breathing but unconscious. His pulse is strong though,” Charlie said when they joined her. “I need something for his head. He's got a nasty gash and is losing more blood than I'm comfortable with. There is no question that his left arm is broken.”

Jake handed her the gauze pads from the kit, impressed at how calm and collected she remained as she continued to do an assessment of the elderly man. She didn't appear fazed at all by the situation unlike the two crying women kneeling next to the man.

“His neck looks fine, but I don't want to move him. His skin feels cool. Is there an emergency blanket in the kit?”

A quick search turned up the blanket the doctor wanted. Jake tore open the package and covered the injured man with the metallic-colored blanket. “What else can I do?” He felt useless standing there as she worked.

Charlie didn't say anything, she only nodded toward Jessica who had started to sob uncontrollably the minute she saw the blood.

Nodding to let Charlie know he understood, he leaned down and placed a gentle hand on Jessica’s shoulder. “We should move so we're not in the way.” Jake tugged Jessica and her grandmother to their feet and led them past the driveway where a Honda Accord sat squashed beneath a huge tree and towards the farmer's porch.

“I've never seen a car that flat before. Have you?” It was a stupid statement but his intent wasn't to have an intelligent conversation. He meant to distract the women. In the distance the wail of an ambulance siren could be heard and he feared its arrival would only distress them even more. “I think you might need a new car.”

Jake managed to get Jessica and her grandmother into rocking chairs on the farmer's porch. His ridiculous statement about the car earned him half a smile. “That tree had some nerve falling on the car like that.” The sound of tires going over rocks told him the ambulance had arrived.

Jake kept up as steady stream of chatter and used his body to block Jessica's view of her grandfather as the EMTs secured him to a stretcher. It appeared as if he still had not regained consciousness, and, by the way the responders had moved him from the ground to the stretcher, he assumed they were worried about possible neck and back injuries too. In a young person either of those injuries could be difficult to heal from, but in a person his age they could be life altering.

“I'm riding to the hospital with them,” Charlie called over as they wheeled the stretcher toward the ambulance.

Jake almost suggested that Jessica or her grandmother ride in the ambulance instead, but changed his mind at the last minute. The women weren't exactly calm and they might get in the way. Besides, an extra set of experienced hands might be useful on the way to the hospital. “We'll meet you there.” If the tables were reversed he'd want to be at the hospital and the pancake of a car in the driveway wasn't going anywhere.

Charlie threw him a thumbs-up and pulled the ambulance doors closed behind her.

JAKE GRABBED the box of tissues from a table in the hospital waiting room and brought it over to Jessica and her grandmother. They had been there for almost two hours and already the two women had gone through five of the tiny boxes of tissues the hospital left out for patients.

“Here are some more.” Jake handed Jessica the box and then took the seat next to her again. Like everything else in the room it was cheap but functional. “Can I get you anything? Some water?” His eyes darted across the room to the vending machines in the corner. The row of colorful machines provided the only color in the stark white room. “A snack?”

Jessica pulled out a few tissues before handing the box to her grandmother. “No, thanks. I'm fine,” she said between sniffles. “This is my fault. I should have gone up the ladder.” Her voice cracked as she spoke. “Or made him wait till someone else could come by.”

The anguish and guilt he heard in Jessica's voice had him putting his arm around her shoulder. “It wasn't anyone's fault. It just happened.” What else could he say?

“He's right Jess. Your grandpa wouldn't have listened anyway. You know how stubborn he is.” It was the first time Mrs. Quinn had spoken since they'd left the house.

“I just wish we knew something. What is taking so long?”

“Dr. O’Brien is with him. As soon as she knows something, she'll tell you.” As if by magic the minute he spoke her name, Charlie walked through a door marked “Hospital Employees Only”. When she saw the three of them sitting together she paused briefly before continuing toward them. From her expression he couldn't determine what kind of update she was about to deliver. Unlike the women sitting next to him, Charlie seemed remarkably able to control her emotions. Perhaps one had to in order to be a doctor. He had never thought about it before.

“You can come and see him now. It might still be awhile before he is moved to his own room, but you can both sit with him until then.”

Neither Jessica nor her grandmother waited to hear another word. Both came to their feet and started toward the door leading back to the patient examining rooms. He expected Charlie to follow right behind them, but she didn't.

“Thank you for bringing them over.”

He could see the surprise in her hazel eyes but didn't understand it. Had she thought he would leave the two women back at their house with no way to get here? He had told her he would meet her here. Or was she surprised to find him still in the waiting room with the Quinns? While sitting in a hospital emergency room was rather low on his list of fun things to do, he couldn't in good conscience just drop them off and leave.

“Not a problem.”