1-Chloe-Kate-Bella

by Unknown

  “Are you kidding me? I was threatened with mayhem if a video of it ended up on the net,” he grumbled softly. “But it was hysterical. And you don’t have to worry. Chloe claims things are fine, but we all got orders that she gets escorted to her apartment at night. She didn’t like the order, though.”

  “I’m glad someone can get through to her until I get this figured out.”

  “But in the meantime, I am glad you called. I figure being new to this girl stuff, you might appreciate a little heads up.”

  “I’m not sure I recovered from the afternoon, Ron. But what the hell, give it a shot.”

  “Ya know, I was going to ask how you knew about this afternoon, but I figure a smart guy like you has sources. What’s your email? I got a couple photos to share with you. Since you guys met at the charity fund raiser, I’m guessing you’re also going to the one next Friday, the theme being Science Fiction.” Ron typed swiftly and quickly sent the photo’s on their way.

  Simon let out a long groan. “I work on one at a time, and I’m only now thinking about tomorrow night. Any clue what Chloe has in mind?”

  “About tomorrow? For you, easy…wear an open shirt, casual jacket and slacks. You’re a money sucking talent agent. Slice,” Ron assured him with a chuckle. “As for what Chloe’s wearing, she hasn’t given up a clue on that one.”

  “You have got to be kidding me,” Simon swore his jaw dropped. Yes, he recalled the television show; the sequence of spin offs.

  “The single finest Star Trek babe in existence,” Ron assured him reverently.

  “You’re serious?”

  “I’ve seen some fittings,” he admitted with a long sigh. “She definitely does the name Seven of Nine justice, that’s all I have to say. She’s been working on sculpting the Borg implants out of clay blocks. When Chloe picks a costume, she gets it to the fine print. What’re you going as?”

  Simon sat back in his chair. “No earthly clue. Or unearthly, for that matter.”

  “Not a Trekkie…I can tell…”

  Simon heard agile fingers moving over the keyboard. “Definitely not. There isn’t anything under that idiot costume,” he swore softly.

  “From the male perspective, it’s the single most finest optical illusion out there, my friend. Okay, I got one for you. Should be pretty simple to pull together,” Ron tapped out the email address and sent his suggestion on its way. “Hope that helps. And good luck. Off to work.”

  “Thanks Ron, good bye.”

  Chapter Five

  It was barely sunrise when the chiming began echoing inside his head. He told Carolyn not to call unless someone was dying. Heavy, thudding palm thumped over the night stand until it landed on the phone.

  “Hello?”

  “Simon!” A soft voice gushed through the phone with excitement. “I just opened your present! It’s fantastic! Even all the bits I might need, a case and screen cover! It’s amazing!”

  “Mom?” Reluctantly, he lifted his head, disheveled brown hair falling over one eye as he searched for the clock. Barely seven AM. “I’m sorry…somewhere I got lost. What present?”

  “The iPad! I’ve already put the protective screen in place and have spent the last half hour browsing and reading and…” She stopped in her enthusiasm, puzzled. “Simon, you signed the card,” she said slowly.

  “I did?” A low groan left his lips, turning onto his back and staring into the ceiling. “Exactly what did I write?”

  “’Books will never be relics, but moving forward can be tons of fun. Enjoy, love Simon.’”

  “I’m poetic,” he said with a nod of appreciation.

  “Simon, I’m confused.”

  “I’ll explain another time. Suffice it to say, the gift was sent by someone with a generous heart and quirky sense of humor,” Simon assured her. “I’m guessing the return address is a shop called Sea-Tac Software in Des Moines?”

  “Yes, yes it is and now that I really look, it’s not your handwriting, but I thought maybe your secretary…”

  “Her name is Chloe Applegate and I will thank her for you and be in touch in a few days, I promise. How are you feeling about the guilt complex? I have it on good authority that paper will be around a long time.”

  “Exactly what is going on, Simon? Your father talked to your brother and he hinted there was a woman in your life that was….well, in your brother’s words, turning your world upside down,” Alison Oliver chuckled softly.

  “A spokesman of understatement, Mom. If I survive the next month, I’ll let you know what’s going on, I promise.”

  “Hmm…you always did keep things close when it came to girls in your life. Will I see you at the next couple charity functions?”

  “You’re going to the costume things?”

  “Me AND your father, why the surprise. We’re not dead, Simon,” she laughed happily. “Good bye, Simon and thank your new friend for me. I love it!”

  The receiver was dropped into place, dark lashes closed with a mild groan. Somewhere a laughing echo kept playing over and over inside his head. Sleep in. Relax.

  The best laid plans…

  It wasn’t until he had cleared the main gate at Safeco Field that he realized he had no idea what to look for. His hands were sunk in the pockets of his slacks, the casual jacket pushed back as he wandered through the exhibits. He glanced vaguely into some of the side rooms that had been sectioned off, the volume of various musical rooms kept nicely contained within them.

  A large rock pond had been established in the center of the massive space, a wide wall for sitting and relaxing and a peaceful fountain spraying water in the middle.

  Simon stopped and stared. There is absolutely nothing wrong with acknowledging the maleness you own, he told himself firmly, dark eyes greedily drinking in the black leather covered behind. Her hands were busy securing a buckle on a pair of black ankle boots sporting a three inch heel.

  He wondered briefly at the male arrogance that innately told him he was staring at Chloe. Despite the obvious black feather cut hair style. He tipped his head to the side, following the long legs upward, over the upturned behind and short black leather jacket.

  Chloe had stopped questioning the odd little tingle inside her as she straightened up, turning away from the fountain with a knowing grin. “Simon! I was hoping I could find you. Isn’t this grand? It’s amazing the costumes some people pulled together. And then…” One eye brow arched with an unvoiced question.

  “Hey,” palms left his pocket, his arms open. “I got it on good authority, Ron, that I’m dressed like a greedy, money grubbing talent agent.”

  Bright laughter surrounded them, her fingers up and tugging on his collar. “Okay, I’ll accept that one.”

  “And you?”

  “Well, it’s kind of versatile,” she fingered the feathery black hair and took a step back. “Given the era, either Joan Jett or Pat Benatar. Though I am not exactly built like Joan Jett. The girl had no hips or curves, but I doubt people’s memories are that distinct.”

  “You are definitely a girl,” Simon said, taking slow steps forward until she was backed against the brick wall surrounding the pond. “And you definitely have nice curves.”

  “A girl does like to be appreciated,” Chloe took a step to the side, her hands on his waist and guiding him to lean against the wall, easily moving into the space between his spread feet.

  “Chloe,” her name left his lips in a long, slow breath, his palms traveling up her arms. Thumbs went beneath her chin, his fingers caressing along the narrow column of her throat, upwards to splay across the sides of her face.

  She wasn’t sure how she came t
o lean against the solid strength of Simon Oliver. And how in the world her fingers got caught in the thick, dark hair at the side of his head was also a bit of a mystery. But when he drew her lower lip between his teeth with a tender nip seconds before his mouth settled firmly and demandingly over hers, she stopped trying to logic it out.

  Chloe knew it wasn’t a very long kiss, by kissing standards. Potent, was a word that floundered in her thoughts as she sent the very tip of her tongue out to trace a very slow line over the fullness of his lower lip.

  “Simon…we’re going to end up in the pond,” she heard her words, felt them whisper over his mouth when he ignored her and deepened the kiss with a hunger that ravaged and aroused her senses.

  Until the very loud throat clearing happened behind her. Twice.

  Chloe forced her mouth from his with an audible gasp for air, her forehead against his. “Someone is behind us,” she whispered, eyes closed for a brief second before she found herself firmly grasped by the shoulders and set upright. Dark lashes rounded, blue eyes wide and staring at him. She almost burst out laughing at the sudden strike of bright red flaming into his cheeks.

  “Mom? Dad?” Simon couldn’t remember the last time his voice was that high and that filled with disbelief. He also knew his sanity was slipping away, dark eyes flashing from one parent to the other and back to the woman staring at him like he’d lost his mind.

  “What’s wrong? They think you’re a monk?” Chloe straightened her shoulders and cleared her throat as she turned, a brilliant smile greeting the newcomers. “Hi, Chloe Applegate,” she announced in the low chuckles. “Pleased to meet you.”

  “Very pleased to meet you, Chloe. I’m Alison and this is Tom,” the older woman accepted the extended palm with a smile. She offered a sly wink, dark lashes thick and covering teasing eyes of the same color. “And a monk is the last thing I’d accuse either of my sons of being.”

  “My parents,” Simon heard the words and wanted to smack himself.

  “I kind of figured that part from the mom and dad thing,” Chloe chuckled. “I think you’ve shut down his higher functions.”

  “Breathe son, we’ve seen it all before,” his father chuckled with a clap on the shoulder.

  “Well, you deal,” Chloe informed him, hands rubbing together as she strode off. “Excuse me, please, I’ll be back in a bit. It’s fun time,” she informed them with a wicked grin, hands wringing and eyes darting around and finding the alcove she was searching for.

  “I’m getting too old for this,” Simon straightened, inviting them to come along as he wandered after her.

  “She makes a good rocker,” Alison commented.

  “Which brings up a point,” dark eyes traveled over his parents, casually dressed and definitely not in costume.

  “Simon, the invitation says costume optional. It’s for a very good cause and I love the music. Especially the karaoke,” Alison reached out and gripped her son’s palm. “She’s in here,” her head tipped slightly toward the flashing lights, the huge projection screen and the slender woman gazing down into the computerized selection screen.

  Simon sighed and leaned against a post. There weren’t many people in the seats and no one was performing, yet.

  “Is her hair naturally that color?” Alison asked, accepting the slender glass of white wine her husband brought her. “Thank you.”

  “No, not at all,” he reached into the inside jacket pocket, his thumb moving over the keys on his blackberry. He brought up the photo of her headed to work and gave it to his mother. “She’s a redhead, freckles and all. Oh, that was her last rock climbing lesson.”

  “She has such a lovely smile, it just lights up the room,” Alison handed him back the phone as the strains of drums and piano began filling the silence. “I know this one…A Rock and Roll Fable,” she recalled, one brow raised as Chloe began strutting around the small stage area.

  Simon watched her fist thrust repeatedly to the beat into the air above her head; one booted foot tapping out a rhythm, her left hand wrapped around the portable microphone. Her head came up slowly, her timing perfect.

  His jaw dropped slightly, the amazingly clear and powerful voice filling the room around them, not a pause or misstep in the song. He felt a set of fingers beneath his chin and glanced down into his mother’s crooked grin.

  “Do you know that girl?” Someone near him asked curiously.

  “No…I really do not,” Simon answered honestly, staring like a twelve year old.

  “You’re drooling, Simon,” she teased softly.

  Rhythmic clapping began among the dozen or so people sitting around the large room, as more filtered inside at the sound of the rocking music. Clapping to the infectious beat grew, the words to the song shot out in a very fast staccato and filled with the seductive passion of the music.

  “Wow,” Alison sunk into a nearby chair, listening, admiring and impressed. Her hands began clapping above her head, joining with the others in the room.

  “Damn,” was Simon’s response, consciously clicking his mouth shut.

  “I’m guessing you had no idea Chloe had such a powerful voice and presence on the stage?” His mother asked loudly, the enthusiasm in the audience unable to be avoided. “I love the drums in this piece.”

  “There is a great deal about Chloe that continues to amaze,” Simon admitted. He spent the next three minutes watching the black leather move in ways he’d only dreamt of, her voice clear and potent. He pulled himself upright and moved to the stage as the rocking drums and piano came to a close. People were immediately on their feet, hands together in riotous appreciation. Chloe, being Chloe, bowed and smiled gratefully.

  “Thank you so very much!” She looked at the palm held out to her, accepting it and dropping into a low curtsey to thank the people applauding her performance. She met the various words of praise as they left the stage area with polite thank you’s and smiles.

  “Chloe that was incredible,” Alison watched the younger woman come toward her, Simon’s palm protectively around hers. “Do you sing professionally?”

  “Oh, no…I started singing really young. I love music!” She breathed with uncapped enthusiasm. “I used to sing in a choir…a long time ago,” she turned wide blue eyes on Simon. “Do you sing?”

  “I know the words to jingle bells,” he offered defensively.

  “Then come Christmas, we’re set,” she teased with a wink. “I desperately need some water, excuse me,” Chloe dropped his hand only to have hers gripped again. She looked at him expectantly, her voice a deep, mocking imitation. “Don’t go wandering off alone, Chloe.”

  “Repeating the drill doesn’t mean you got the meaning,” he countered with a low growl.

  “There’s tons of people here, Simon. Good grief…gimmie my fingers,” came the low, growling demand, her palm up in a sweeping arc that had him moving swiftly out of the way of the pointing fingers. “Sign: Food Court,” a sweet smile was aimed at Alison and Tom. “Sorry…I’m parched. Excuse me.”

  “Simon?” Tom asked with a single word, watching the black leather stride off, head high.

  “Someone has been following her, taking pictures. There hasn’t been any move made to actually contact her, so the police can’t do anything about it.”

  “A stalker? Poor Chloe,” Alison fell into step with her son, heading to the food court.

  “Yeah, well, at the moment it’s stalker zero, Chloe a couple good hits,” he went on to tell them about the various incidents. “And this morning, she actually shot a couple cross bow bolts into his back tires,” his palm was up, rubbing his neck tiredly.

  “I am going to offer you a little girl advice, and then your father is taking me
dancing,” Alison knew she had his attention and smiled before gently patting his cheek. “Chloe strikes me as someone accustomed to dealing directly with anything that’s thrown into her path, you included. We want a hero, but we loathe cages. Have a fun evening, dear.”

  Simon sunk into a chair at an empty table, watching Chloe come to him carrying a large try of food. “Mom says thank you for the iPad…and stuff.”

  “Oh…” Chloe took a bite of the sandwich she had built. “I guess I wasn’t very stealthy on that one.”

  “Nope,” Simon reaching casually for one of the other sandwiches and taking a hearty bite, chewing thoughtfully. “But it was incredibly nice of you.” A long several minutes of silence filled the table as they ate the various things Chloe had gathered from the tables.