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The Billionaire Playboy(48)

By:Christina Tetreault


She couldn't stop herself from laughing as she stood and walked over to the counter where a half of a pie sat. “I should've known. Nobody can compete with Ma’s pot roast and apple pie.” Charlie sliced two pieces of pie and carried them over. “It's a good thing you haven't tried her pecan pie. She'd probably never get you to leave then.”

“I wouldn't stick around for pecan. Never liked it. But if she makes pumpkin or blueberry, that's another story.”



***



Charlie climbed out of bed the next morning before Jake awoke. Part of her wanted nothing more than to cuddle up next to him and go back to sleep herself, but at the same time she didn't want anyone to see her leaving his room. She suspected her mom and brother knew he'd come back to see her, but neither had outright asked her. After all, she had spent the weekend in Newport with him. Still that didn't mean she wanted either of them to see her coming out of his room. So after one more glance at Jake, she slipped out the door and headed up to her room.#p#分页标题#e#

When she walked into the kitchen two hours later showered and dressed, she expected to find her mom preparing breakfast. Instead she found her mom sitting across the table from a dark-haired woman dressed in a powder blue sheath dress and matching blazer. A basket of fresh blueberry muffins was in the middle of the table and a mug of coffee sat in front of each woman.

Instantly the hairs on the back of Charlie's neck went up. She didn't recognize the woman but the small notepad in front of her suggested that she was a reporter which meant her presence had something to do with Jake. Why else would a reporter be sitting in her mother's kitchen drinking coffee and eating muffins?

Hoping to alert Jake before he came through the door, Charlie turned to leave just as her mother looked over and saw her standing in the doorway.

“Good you're up. You should be able to help Ms. Blake since you've spent a lot of time with Jake. She's doing an article about The Falmouth Foundation for her magazine.”

It took all of Charlie's control not to groan when she heard the name of the woman. “I can try. We worked together a lot right after the hurricane.” Charlie didn't know for certain but she suspected the reporter’s reason for being there had nothing to do with Jake's foundation. “The town wouldn't have started to recover so quickly without the Falmouth Foundation.”

“I'm hoping to get some insight into Jake Sherbrooke the man, not just his organization. People know a lot about the Falmouth Foundation and all the good it does already. They're more interested in Jake himself. They want to know what makes a man like that tick.”

As the reporter explained her purpose for doing the article she smiled. While Charlie assumed the smile was meant to make her feel comfortable, it had the opposite effect. The smile made Charlie feel like some kind of prey and the reporter was getting ready to move in for the kill.

I bet they do, Charlie thought as a surge of protectiveness swept through her. What people wanted was more gossip, something she had no intention of giving. “Sorry. I can't tell you much. I didn't get a chance to really know him. I can tell you he's a hard worker. He did whatever needed to be done. He even boarded up windows,” Charlie said with just the right amount of regret in her voice. “Maybe you can talk to some other people in town.”

Marcy Blake's smile changed ever so slightly and her eyes narrowed. “Your mom mentioned you went to Newport with him for his sister's wedding. You must have gotten to know him a little during that time.”

Nice going Ma. One of these days her mother's willingness to talk to anyone was going to get her into trouble. Charlie couldn't think of a good reply to the reporter's statement. Denying she had gone wouldn't work. Not only would she be saying her mother lied, but it seemed probable that the reporter could confirm it on her own. “We spent most of our time with his family. Family seems very important to him.”

As she tried to think of other general items she could use to satisfy the reporter, she listened for approaching footsteps. With every minute that went by it became more likely that Jake would walk in looking for breakfast. She knew the last person he'd want to see seated at the kitchen table was Marcy Blake.

“How serious are things between you and him?” Marcy asked turning to an empty page in her notepad.

Like I would ever tell you. “We're friends,” Charlie answered, pleased at how nonchalant she sounded.

Across the table her mother waved a hand in the air dismissing Charlie's comment. “She doesn't believe me. I keep telling her he wouldn't have come up here this weekend if they were just friends. Don't you agree? Men don't drive that far more than once in a week to see friends.”