by Jackie Braun
“I can’t just leave you at the curb.”
“Granted, this isn’t one of the better ZIP codes in Manhattan, but, really, this neighborhood’s not so bad.”
At just that moment, a visibly drunk man shuffled out from an alley, dropped his pants and began to urinate on the lamppost in front of Ella’s building.
“You were saying?”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake. It’s all of five steps to my building’s door from the curb. Besides,” she continued matter-of-factly, “unlike that lamppost, I’d be a moving target.”
At that, a strangled sound escaped Chase. Ella turned and gaped at him.
“Did you just laugh?”
“I...well, you have to admit, what you said was pretty funny. The visual.” He shook his head as the image came and chuckled again.
“I like your laugh. You should do it more.”
“I haven’t had much to laugh about lately,” he heard himself admit.
“I laugh at myself. At the silliness of stowing my shoes in kitchen cabinets.”
“I admire you for that.”
“For my unconventional storage solution?” she asked, but she was grinning. She knew what he meant. “I told you before, I’d rather laugh than cry.”
“I remember.”
“From your remark about not having much to laugh about, I take it you haven’t had any luck getting Elliot to see a doctor.”
“No, but I haven’t really tried. We’ve been busy preparing for board meetings and, well, I keep hoping...”
The lump that had formed in his throat kept Chase from going on.
“Try.” Ella laid a hand over his on the steering wheel.
Compassion. Comfort. Both came from a woman who could use a little of each herself. He’d never met anyone like her.
It took some doing and a few trips around the block before he found an open spot at the curb just up from her building. Even though the sun had set, the evening remained warm to the point of being uncomfortable. Add in a hot woman and Chase could feel the perspiration gathering on his forehead even before he reached the door, which—no surprise—was held open once more with the brick.
Ella was smiling when his gaze connected with hers.
“Told you,” she said.
Though Chase knew it would do little good, he kicked the brick down the sidewalk this time and ushered her inside.
“Are you going to walk me all the way up, too?”
Gallantry warred with self-preservation. As it was, he wanted to kiss her again, find out if that over-the-top geyser of lust he’d experienced the first time was merely a fluke. If he found himself on her doorstep, her horny neighbor going at it in the hall.... He swallowed.
This wasn’t a date. He and Ella were business acquaintances of a sort. He summoned up every ounce of professionalism he possessed.
“I’ll leave you here.” He took out his phone. “Text me when you get inside your apartment.”
“All right.” She smiled, whether touched or amused, he couldn’t be sure. “I’ll see you Monday.”
“I’ll get those addresses for you.” Now, he just had to figure out who to invite, he thought wryly.
“Thank you for dinner.”
“An appetizer, a salad and a few forkfuls of cheesecake hardly qualify as dinner.”
“Don’t forget the wine. It was exceptionally good.”
He shrugged. “Even so. Have a good night, Ella.”
“Thanks. You, too.”
Somehow he doubted a good night was in the cards for him. For as many answers as she’d provided, Chase suddenly had that many more questions.
He was standing in the entrance when he received her text a few minutes later.
“Home. Door bolted. Night.”
“Night,” he texted back.
Chase was leaving when a guy with a long, scruffy beard and tattoos down both arms called, “Hold the door, dude.”
In his hand was the damned brick.
Chase opted for a reasoned approach to start. “Do you live here?”
“Nah, man. Just visiting my buddy up on three.”
“The one with the band?”
The guy’s lips split in a grin that revealed tobacco-stained teeth. “Yeah. The Waste Haulers. You heard of us?”
“No.” Chase would bet he wasn’t in the minority on that. “I have a friend who lives on the fourth floor, and I don’t appreciate the entrance being propped open to allow just anyone to enter. Know what I mean?”
“Four, huh? You wouldn’t happen to be talking about the really hot chick in C, would you?”
The guy’s grin had Chase’s hands threatening to ball into fists. So much for being reasonable. Chase stepped forward, using his height to his advantage since the other guy was well under six feet.
“I am. And if I see a brick wedged in this door again, whoever put it there will be at the hospital having it surgically removed. Got it?”
Tattoo man backed up a step. “Chill, dude. Like, you seriously need to relax.”
People whose opinions Chase valued far more than this man’s had told him the same thing. “So, we’re clear?”
“Crystal.”
The young man went away muttering. Chase, meanwhile, enjoyed a rare smile.
SIX
“Bradley is marrying Bernadette?”
Sandra Chesterfield was one of the few people from Ella’s old life who hadn’t ditched her when the crap over her father hit the fan. They’d been friends since prep school, had nursed one another through the breakup of their favorite boy band, and later held back one another’s hair the first time they’d retched from drinking too much at a party. Now that was friendship.
“Yes. Camilla was only too happy to pass the news along when I ran into her at The Colton on Friday night.”
“Camilla. That woman is such a piece of work.” Sandra muttered an epithet before asking, “Are you okay with that?”
“With Bernadette marrying Bradley?” At Sandra’s nod, Ella replied, “I am. I was surprised at first. I didn’t know they were dating.”
“Neither did I, and Cole and I sometimes run into him. Remember all of the nasty remarks Bradley used to make about her behind her back?”
“I do. Which is why once the shock wore off, I found myself doubly relieved that things between the two of us hadn’t worked out. He wanted to ensure his social standing more than he wanted to be married. Now that Bernadette’s new stepdaddy is so well-connected....” Ella shrugged. “Besides, I did my crying over Bradley a long time ago.”
“No lingering feelings?”
“Not even the bad variety,” Ella replied on a laugh. “He deserves Bernadette.”
“They deserve each other.”
The two women were seated on the floor in Ella’s apartment, flipping through fashion magazines, sipping iced coffee that Sandra had picked up on her way over, and listening to Motown classics. Or trying to over the thump of the bass and the wail of electric guitar coming from the apartment below hers. Even though it was not yet nine o’clock, the Waste Haulers were already at it. Actually, the band had been at it all night.
“You’re smiling again,” Sandra remarked. “And I don’t think it has anything to do with Bradley deserving to be saddled with Bernadette.”
“Just thinking about the guys downstairs.” Her grin widened. “Apparently Chase had a word with them about their habit of propping open the entrance. He threatened them with the need for emergency-room services if it happened again.”
The lead guitarist had stopped by her apartment late Friday to apologize. His apology had been accompanied by two complimentary tickets to their upcoming gig at a dive bar in the Village. Not that Ella planned to go, but she appreciated the gesture. Both the
band’s and Chase’s. It was nice to have someone looking out for her even if she didn’t feel she needed it. One good thing to come out of her father’s bankruptcy was that Ella had learned to take care of herself.
“Ah, so that’s why the brick was missing when I got here. I like your Chase already.”
“He’s not my Chase. I told you. He’s a client.”
“A client who took you to The Colton for dinner. Please.”
“To discuss business. It was a meeting.”
“On a Friday night?”
“I’m self-employed. I set my own hours.”
Sandra rolled her eyes. “He picked you up at your apartment, El.”
“Which also happens to be my office.”
“And dropped you off afterward.”
“Same reason.”
“He walked you inside.”
Ella smiled and sipped her iced coffee. “He’s a gentleman.”
“He threatened the guys in the band with bodily harm if they didn’t stop propping open the door.”
“Yeah.” She sighed. “He can be really sweet.”
“He’s sweet, all right. Sweet on you,” Sandra persisted. Her friend nodded toward the stain on the rug. “From what you told me about that kiss, I’d say it’s only a matter of time before the two of you are tangling up the sheets. I can’t wait to meet him. Are you going to bring him to the barbecue?” she asked, referencing her family’s huge, annual summertime bash to raise funds for diabetes research.
Ella grew serious. “You’re getting ahead of yourself, Sandra.”
“How so? Obviously, he’s attracted to you.”
“Yes,” Ella agreed. “And I won’t claim it’s not mutual, or that I haven’t thought of what it would be like to sleep with him.” Oh, she’d thought about it, all right. In great detail. “But introductions aren’t likely, because this...thing between us isn’t going anywhere.”
Her friend frowned. “Why not?”
Ella stirred the coffee with her straw before taking a sip. It was with regret that she told her friend, “We’re just too different.”
“Ever hear of a little thing called opposites attracting?”
“Oh, they attract.” Boy, did they ever, in her and Chase’s case. “But they don’t stay together. Look at my father and Camilla. Two people couldn’t be more different. And we both know how that ended.”
“They’re a bad example. Your stepmom was a gold digger from the word go. They had nothing in common except for money. It’s no surprise that when that was gone, so was she.”
“Well, Chase and I have nothing in common except a party. Namely, the dinner party I’m planning for him. And the only reason he hired me is because he feels sorry for me.”
“Do you really think that’s all you have in common or the only reason he hired you?”
Ella shrugged. “I guess we’ll find out. Now, I’d better get ready for my appointment to see his uncle. I have a check to return.”
A really, really big check.
* * *
Ella wore a black gabardine pantsuit. It was the most conservative outfit she owned and would have been positively bland if not for the cut of the jacket, which nipped in at the waist and was cinched by a belt that tied in front. Underneath the jacket, she wore a black camisole that wasn’t meant to be seen, but whose lace edges offered back the femininity she felt the outfit stole.
She had purchased the suit to wear to court the day the verdict was read in the last civil case against her father. He’d lost the case and was ordered to repay a staggering sum to the plaintiff. The sober cut and color had been fitting for that, black being associated with mourning. A part of her father had died that day. And it was fitting on this day, too, since she would be telling Elliot that he needed to find someone else to plan his wake.
When she got off the elevator on the seventeenth floor, the reception desk was empty. Owen’s and Elliot’s offices were closed up tight. The door to Chase’s, however, was ajar, so she crossed to it. A peek inside revealed Chase pacing to the window from his desk, his cell phone tucked between his shoulder and his ear as he flipped through some papers.
“You’re being shortsighted,” he was telling the person on the other end of the line. “Mark my words, you’ll regret pulling your support.”
He turned and began to pace back to his desk. When he spied Ella, he stopped. “I’ll call you back,” he said and ended the call.
His expression lost some of its grimness when he waved her inside.
“Good morning,” Ella said. “I didn’t mean to disturb you. I noticed your door was open and, well, no one else seems to be here today.”
“My uncle gave the support staff the day off.” Chase sighed. “It’s some obscure holiday. Worker Bee Appreciation Day, I believe.”
“I see.” Her lips twitched. Leave it to Elliot.
Chase, however, wasn’t amused. “It’s stunts like this that have even the holdouts on the board wanting to defect.”
His lips drew into a taut line, giving her the impression he hadn’t meant to tell her that. She recalled the confidentiality agreement he’d asked her sign, not that it had been necessary to ensure her silence. Ella had never been the sort to read the tabloids, much less supply them with juicy tidbits of information. That was doubly true now given her father’s treatment at their hands.
“I wouldn’t call it a stunt. I bet the people who work here are happy to be rewarded for their efforts. And as a businessman, I’m sure you’re aware that when morale is good, so is productivity.”
“Happy cows give more milk?” he asked.
“I doubt the women who work here would appreciate that analogy,” Ella replied dryly.
“Good point.”
Half his mouth rose, and some of the worry left his eyes. Because she liked just a little too much knowing that she had the ability to tease him out of a foul mood, she decided to get down to business.
“Do you have something for me?”
“Do I...? Oh, right.” He went to his computer, hit a few keys and a moment later the printer on the credenza behind his desk spat out the guest list, complete with addresses, for his dinner party. He handed it to her.
“Thanks.” She tucked the papers into her oversize purse. It was periwinkle-blue with a big silver buckle on the front that was more for decoration than anything else. She fiddled with the buckle. “I’ll start to work on the invitations and menu right away and get back to you tomorrow.”
“All right.”
That concluded their business.
“Is Elliot here?”
“No, but he should be in shortly. He and Owen attended a breakfast for a children’s charity this morning.”
“Oh. I’ll just wait in the reception area, then.” She backed up a step, but before she could turn, Chase said, “You look...different today.”
“Different good or different bad,” she asked, since different wasn’t necessarily a compliment.
He leaned a hip against the edge of his desk and folded his arms across his chest. “Different conservative.”
“Oh.” She plucked at the lapel of the no-frills blazer and admitted, “This isn’t my best look.”
“I didn’t say that. But now you’ve got me curious. If you don’t think you look good in that outfit, why did you wear it?”
Ella thought it best not to mention her thoughts on mourning. Instead, she replied, “It seemed appropriate for the workplace.”
He nodded as his gaze meandered down from her face. “Black isn’t your color. You need something more vibrant to go with your personality. But I like the bow.” He motioned to the belt.
Her fingers left the lapel to fiddle with one of the loops. “It’s the only thing that keeps the outfit from being truly boring.”
“That and the shoes.” Half his mouth lifted again, but it was more than humor she saw in his eyes now.
“You like?”
Ella set her bag on a chair and then shifted her weight to her left hip so she could position the right one in front of her. The nude, peep-toe pump would have been as sedate as the suit if not for the silver studs dotting it. When they caught the light, they all but shouted va-va-va-voom!
“I like.” Chase agreed. When he stepped closer, his gaze was no longer on her footwear.
Ella’s heart stuttered in her chest.
Is he going to kiss me again?
She answered the question herself. “I’m not going to wait to find out.”
“Excuse me?” Chase said.
“Never mind.” She laughed. And then, since the man stood within easy reach, she grabbed the lapels of his suit coat and hauled him closer for a kiss.
He blinked in surprise when her lips met his, but then his hands clamped on to her waist and she felt his fingers dig in to her flesh through the suit’s gabardine as he pulled her closer. That, as much as the low groan that emanated from the back of his throat, told her he was as turned on as she was. Ella closed her eyes and gave herself over to the moment.
The kiss didn’t end so much as it morphed into something else. Namely, a shiver-worthy exploration of her jaw by his mouth. When Chase pushed back her hair and started on her neck, she tilted her head sideways, only too eager to allow him greater access.
“I’m wondering something,” he murmured against her throat.
She knew a moment of triumph that his breathing was as ragged as hers. It would really suck if she were the only who felt as if she might explode.
“What might that be?” she asked.
“What do you have on under this jacket?”
Tha-tha-thunk! Tha-tha-thunk! Her heart pounded as she told him, “Why don’t you find out?”
Laughter—rich, low and deliciously male—rumbled in response. It vibrated through her body along with an insane amount of need. It was all Ella could do to keep from screaming out, “Yes!” when she felt a tug at her waist and the belt went slack.