“I want to ask you something,” Charlie said, her hands gripping the back of the chair.
“Okay. What is it?”
“Background first,” she said. Her gaze locked with his, then slid away. “My freshman year of college I had a crush on one of the football players. Senior guy, good-looking. He smiled at me and I was hooked.”
“Lucky guy.”
Charlie blinked at him. “He didn’t see it that way. He invited me to a party.... I went. When he asked me up to his room, I said yes. I was young and stupid. I didn’t realize he expected to have sex. I thought we’d...” She shrugged and looked away. “I wasn’t thinking. Things went too far. I told him to stop and he didn’t.” She turned her attention back to him and pain filled her blue eyes. “I wasn’t strong then.”
Clay felt a rock hit the bottom of his stomach. “He raped you,” he said flatly.
She nodded. “I fought, but he was bigger and he knew what he wanted. After, when I was crying, he told me to grow up, then he walked away.” She drew in a breath. “You know, there really can be blood your first time. I grabbed the blanket and took it with me, then I went to the police. He was brought in and questioned. I could hear him in the next room. When they asked him what happened, he laughed. God, I remember that sound. He laughed and asked them if there was any way a guy like him would have sex with a girl like me unless she’d begged. And even then he’d had some trouble getting it up.”
Clay considered himself an even-tempered guy. But right then he wanted to find the man in question and break every bone in his face.
He consciously controlled his breathing, his anger. Charlie had been through enough. She didn’t need to deal with his reaction to her experience.
“I’m sorry.” Stupid, but all he could think to say.
“Thanks.”
“They believed him, right?”
She nodded. “Everyone did. Even my mother told me it was wrong to tease boys that way. I left college, ended up in Portland.”
“Oregon, not Maine.”
She managed a slight smile. “That’s the one. I got strong. Now I can take care of myself.”
More important to her, she was safe, he thought. No man would have the physical upper hand again.
“I want to tell you it’s behind me, but it isn’t,” she said, staring down at the chair. “I haven’t... I can’t imagine being with someone.”
He stared at her, digesting the meaning behind the words. Charlie had to be close to his age. Which meant she hadn’t been with a guy in over a decade.
“I want kids,” she said quickly, meeting his gaze. “I’m not sure how yet. IVF, adoption, there are a lot of options. I want to have a family.”
“You’ll be a good mom.”
“You don’t know enough about me to be sure about that, but thank you for the support. The thing is I know I have to be emotionally strong as well as physically strong to be a parent. I don’t like it, but there we are. Until I can make peace with my past, I shouldn’t take on a kid.”
She paused, as if gathering her thoughts. “I’m afraid I’ll pass on my mistrust of men to any child I have. I don’t want that. If I have a son, I want him to be proud of who he is. I want him to have male role models in his life, which might be difficult if I don’t get over my problem. If I have a daughter, I want her to grow up with the idea that it’s good to be open to love. I don’t want to pass along my fear.”
“You’ve thought this through,” he said slowly, thinking that Charlie was brutally honest—even with herself. Something he admired and respected.
“I’ve thought about a lot of things. Including your problem.”
He frowned. “I have a problem?”
“Getting accepted into the volunteer program. No one is going to take you seriously. It doesn’t matter how well you do, they won’t get past who you are and how you look.”
A blunt assessment that was probably accurate.
Was she relating their situations? If so, what was she offering and what did she want in return? Sperm? A character reference?
“Deep breath,” she said softly.
“Are you telling me or yourself?”
“Both of us.” She swallowed. “I want you to help me get over my fear of being physically intimate. I want to be able to be with a guy without running screaming into the night.”
“Is that what happens?”
“I’ve only tried a couple of times, but, yes. I freeze up. I panic. I run. I can’t do that. I want to be over this. I want to be like everyone else.”
“Being like the rest of the herd isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.”
“So speaks someone who’s perfect.”
“I’m not perfect,” he said automatically. Then the meaning of what she said slammed into him. Charlie wanted him to have sex with her. Not just sex for the night. She wanted him to help her heal.
Now it was his turn to stand, but once he was on his feet, he didn’t move. Not toward her or away. He stared at her, watching color flare more brightly on her cheeks. He saw her vulnerability, her fear that he would say no and her terror that he would say yes.
“I’m not looking for anything more than sex,” she whispered. “I don’t want to fall in love or have a relationship. I just want to be normal enough to get on with my life. Figure out the kid thing. Be in a family.” She drew in a shaky breath.
Clay knew Charlie well enough to understand that the one thing she would avoid at any cost was being in a weak position. Yet she’d laid herself bare to him, exposing not just her past pain, but her most secret hopes and dreams. He realized he respected her, so he respected her request, even as it confused him.
He was used to invitations, to numbers handed to him and suggestions made. But Charlie wasn’t interested in a good time. Nor did she want to be able to say she’d been with him for bragging rights. This was real and painful.
“I appreciate you not breaking into hysterical laughter,” she whispered.
“It’s not funny. What I want to do is find that guy and beat the shit out of him.”
One corner of her mouth turned up. “You’re such a guy.”
“Which makes me a decent candidate for the job.” He shoved his hands into his jeans pockets. “None of this is expected. I need to think about it.”
“Sure. Right. It’s a lot to ask.” Her grip on the back of the chair tightened.
He looked at her, at the shape of her face, the slight trembling of her mouth. She was nothing like Diane, yet she reminded him of his late wife. Diane had been blunt, as well. Tough, determined. She would have liked Charlie.
“I’ll get back to you,” he said at last.
“You know how to find me.”
He nodded once and left. When he was outside, he headed for his truck. Honest to God, he had no idea what he was going to decide. So he wouldn’t, not just now. Time had a way of making things more clear. Diane had taught him that, too. He’d learned all of life’s most important lessons from her. The most significant had been how to love. A skill he had little use for these days.
CHAPTER FIVE
A TYPICAL DAY in Clay’s New York life had included working out at the gym, getting a facial or maybe a manicure, a meeting with a client, a fitting for a future shoot or talking to