Electric!

by Ava McKnight

  “McClellan said you rented a house in this forest.” His tone was a bit darker from his intense arousal. “Let’s go. No one will know. No one will see us leave together if we take the back exit.”

  “I already told you—”

  “Fine,” he backed off. As usual, he planted seeds. But he never pushed her too far beyond her comfort zone. Rather, Chase always relied on the flash of heat in her eyes that prompted him to move forward, or the flicker of fear in them that told him to stand down.

  Cassidy was an intriguing and thrilling puzzle to piece together, and though two years was a hellaciously long time to be infatuated with someone with no real progress to speak of, Chase couldn’t muster the fortitude to walk away. He wanted her that much.

  And not just sexually, as she’d so inaccurately pinpointed moments before. He’d honestly never met a woman more compatible, especially given her passion for the same work he did and her ability to hold her own with the best of them. Every time she stuck her neck out for a client, he was in awe of her. And when she went toe-to-toe with him or anyone else in the office… Well, that just got his adrenaline pumping and his heart thumping.

  “Let’s stick with a drink,” he said. “For starters.” He ordered champagne from the bartender.

  “Here you go, sweetheart,” the bartender said when he delivered a glass to Cassidy.

  Chase noted she never cringed over the sweethearts, honeys and darlings frequently thrown her way. Particularly from the guys she worked with. She knew them well, and they respected her—as Chase did. They even consulted with her on a regular basis, always popping into her office to ask advice on handling a sensitive loss report, subrogation case, standard recs for an engineer report, or just to shoot the breeze. He was in there often enough himself to witness the camaraderie.

  He also knew her father, uncles and brother were the same when it came to the monikers. She’d once told him her dad always called her sweetie. Gavin, her older brother, called her toots. She’d explained he’d done it initially to get a rise out of her. But she’d told Chase, with a dismissive wave of her hand, that given his hard exterior, she’d found she liked the term of endearment coming from him. And her acceptance of it had helped to soften him.

  Chase liked how accommodating she was, yet at the same time, self-assured when it came to her business practices. She was feminine, no question there, but also tough as nails when she needed to be.

  He’d seen her take on Legal over a subrogation case that would have crippled a start-up company if she hadn’t convinced the powers that be to extend a measure of goodwill following an explosion in one of the newly built plants and cover damages that fell into a gray area of the policy. Getting the big wigs to concede a technicality here and there had resulted in notable loyalty on her clients’ behalf, and even more business through referrals.

  Despite her desire to take a stand when she deemed it warranted, she’d also told Chase that, for the most part, she avoided the Legal division like the plague. He knew why. Ironic as it was, those old goats were the worst offenders when it came to sexual harassment. Then again, they knew their way around the system. And women who worked for MII knew what they were walking into when it came to that branch of the company. Industrial risk insurance was still a man’s world.

  Chase didn’t subscribe to the “little misses” mentality. He liked that Cassidy had a feisty side in addition to her professional side. She could be a bit too formal at times, sure. But then she’d let her guard slip and she’d sparkle with charm and sheer wit. He could tell she wanted to belong—but on her terms. She was willing to put up with the double standard but had a strong constitution.

  Chase wasn’t the only one who held her in high regard. The guys currently seated at the bar did, certainly. But so too did the senior management team, and the head honcho himself, Archer McClellan.

  Maybe it was all these idiosyncrasies and her steadfast nature that made him absolutely nuts about her.

  A dangerous thought, because they worked together. And because she didn’t seem inclined to move their association past friendship. After two years, he’d be a fool to not see he was headed for heartache, but that didn’t stop him from wanting her. Big time.

  To cool his engine, Chase said, “Let’s do a shot.”

  She laughed. “Not a chance in hell.”

  “You say that all too often.” He winked at her. “What, can’t hold your liquor, tough girl?”

  “Please,” she smirked. “Our boss still believes in the two-martini lunch. I can suck ’em down.”

  Chase groaned. “Careful about your word choice,” he whispered in her ear.

  “Get your mind out of the gutter.”

  He let out a hearty guffaw. “Impossible when I’m sitting next to you.”

  The bartender came their way after sprinkling the infield with fresh cocktails.

  “What else can I get you?” he asked Chase.

  “Shot of Patrón. And for the lady…” He eyed Cassidy a moment, then said, “Amaretto with a cherry in it.”

  The bartender busied himself with the order. Cassidy punched Chase in the arm. It actually stung. Not that he should be surprised, given her upbringing.

  “Amaretto?” she demanded, though her eyes danced with a playful glint. “That screams puff.”

  He merely shrugged.

  “And what’s with the cherry?” Her gaze narrowed on him. “You don’t think I’m a virgin, do you?”

  He laughed again. “I wouldn’t be sitting here with you if I did. That’s not my thing.”

  Heat colored her cheeks, and it was a damn pretty sight. She didn’t shy away from the saucy banter, and he liked that about her as well. She gave back as good as she got.

  When her shot arrived, Cassidy popped the cherry in her mouth and twisted the stem into a pretzel with her tongue, then presented it to him.

  “Cheap and passé party trick, babe.” He snickered.

  “You were the one who ordered it.” To the bartender, she said, “Take this girly drink away, please, and pour me tequila as well.”

  Chase eyed her skeptically. “Don’t get too wild on me.”

  She shot him a sassy look, turning up the heat because she had a safety net he recognized—the guys gathered on the other side of her. “Thought I was the wicked type? Kinky with fetishes, even.”

  His gaze locked with hers. “Are you?”

  “No.” She didn’t glance away, just continued to stare into his eyes.

  His cock twitched. “You wanna be?”

  Her breath hitched. “I don’t know.”

  “Scared?”

  “Maybe.”

  “Hmm.” He dragged his gaze from hers and reached for his shot. “Little shake of salt on the hand, slam the shot, suck the lime.”

  “You don’t make any sense to me,” she said. “One minute I’m risqué in your eyes, the next I’ve just fallen off the turnip truck.”

  She licked the skin in the crook of her hand between the thumb and index finger. Sprinkled some salt on it. Licked it again…slowly, making him groan as he thought of her doing that to his dick. Then she drained the tequila in one quick gulp. She held up the lime, a sardonic expression on her face, and dumped it in the empty shot glass without sucking on it.

  “Smartass,” he said, though he heard the hint of admiration in his voice. Okay, it was more than that. Not only did he think highly of her, he was seriously aroused by her. In Chase’s mind, Cassidy Reynolds was the complete package. Well, except for that all work and no play thing she had going on. Although…she finally seemed to be cutting loose this evening. With him.

  He downed his own shot and ordered another round.

  “If you think you’re going to get me sloppy drunk and take advantage of me,” she said in her provocative tone that drove him wild, “think again. I have lots of experience in this arena. A multitude of male relatives who taught me how to drink with the big boys. I’m more than capable of keeping up, my friend.”

&
nbsp; He couldn’t stop himself from leaning toward her and murmuring, “I want to be more than your friend.”

  “Chase.” She stared at him unwaveringly. Though he didn’t miss the twinkle in her eyes.

  “Cass.”

  She sighed. “You are never going to give that up, are you?”

  “What? Calling you Cass or trying to talk you into my bed?”

  “Both.”

  He shook his head. “No, I am not.”

  She laughed softly. “You’re a huge pain in the ass. You know that, right?”

  “So are you. But I keep coming back for more.”

  They slammed another shot. Then he handed her the glass of champagne the bartender had poured earlier. “Follow me.”

  “Absolutely not.”

  He chuckled at her obstinate nature—and the fact that she didn’t want to give up her security blanket. Also known as Blaine Morgan. “Don’t worry, beauty queen. I’m not going to molest you in some dark corner.”

  “Beauty queen? Really? I always feel like such a tomboy.”

  “You’re kidding?” His gaze slid over her. “That’s not what I see at all.”

  She eyed him with skepticism. “A man who looks like you could do much better.”

  Chase smirked. “Do you own reflective surfaces in your home? If so, try stepping in front of one sometime.”

  He led her away from the bar and all the noise. They found a quiet corner. Dark, yes, but that hadn’t been his intention. Turned out to be convenient, though. He propped a shoulder against a patio door and stared out at the post-winter wonderland now covering the country club’s event lawn and all those amazing pine trees.

  “Damn pretty, isn’t it?” he asked.

  “Yes. The moonlight makes all the powdery white glitter. I miss the snow sometimes.”

  “Why’d you leave Connecticut?”

  She shrugged. “I wanted to land a job on my own. Not use my family name to get my foot in the door.”

  “You would’ve proven your worth in gold no matter how you got your start.”

  She stared up at him, a soft smile on her glossy lips. Christ, she made his chest tighten and his cock throb.

  “You don’t have to sweet-talk me, Chase.”

  “I’m not. I respect you. And I think you bring a shitload of value to MII.”

  Her head inclined to the side. “You’ve never said that to me before.”

  “Do I really have to?” He gave her a direct look. “You put your heart and soul into the job. Everyone knows that, Cass. Including McClellan. The question is…”

  Pushing too far, Chase.

  He shook his head, averted his gaze.

  “What?” she asked, sounding unnerved. Then she let out a harsh breath. “Oh right. This always comes up.”

  “This what?”

  “I have boobs in a profession dominated by penises.”

  His gaze snapped back to her. “That’s not at all what I was going to say.”

  “Really?” She challenged him with a raised brow. “Because everyone else seems to think the same thing. Why am I wasting my time, busting my ass to be someone in this field when I could be content with a husband who works hard so I don’t have to?”

  “Wow.” He whistled under his breath.

  Cassidy sighed. She was quiet for a moment as she seemed to collect her thoughts.

  Chase waited patiently.

  “Sorry. It’s just that, my mom’s father and then my dad wanted to do everything for her. Give her everything her heart desired. Treat her like a princess or a queen. And while she didn’t discount their desires—and their generosity certainly didn’t go unappreciated—she wanted to be able to give something in return. I found that a very noble notion.”

  She seemed to contemplate this further, then added, “My mother wanted to buy them gifts with money she’d earned—not with their money. She wanted them to be proud of her. She wanted Gav and me to be proud of her too. It meant something to her to be somebody, to contribute not only to her household, but to society.”

  She sighed and turned away, as though she thought he didn’t understand what she was saying to him. Not the case at all.

  “Hey,” Chase said as he lightly touched her arm. The most intimate contact he’d ever ventured because, despite his inescapable desire to flirt with her, he respected her boundaries. Yes, he was upfront with her and he pushed her sometimes in hopes she’d finally see the attraction between them was mutual—and undeniable. But he also knew she liked to maintain a certain distance. A certain professionalism.

  Tonight, however, was different. Maybe it was the alcohol, although they’d consumed more than that on other nights and he hadn’t ever laid a hand on her. He wasn’t sure what drove him this evening, but he felt they’d reached a pivotal moment. He felt it to the core of his being.

  “Let me ask you this,” he said in a quiet voice. “Are you afraid to get involved with a man for fear he’s going to eclipse you and make you inconsequential?”

  She stared up at him. “I never thought of it that way.”

  Chase grinned. “Well, you’ve got nothing to worry about. Because that’ll never happen.”

  “What makes you so sure?” Her voice was soft, uncertain. Tentative.

  He snorted. “You have a sharp brain and a big heart. You’d never put up with a man who doesn’t see or appreciate both.”

  She swallowed hard. “What if I make a mistake and choose the wrong guy?”

  Chase gave a slight shake of his head. “You’re too smart for that.”

  “But—”

  “Hey.” He cut her off by placing a finger over her lips. “You’re so afraid of fucking up it paralyzes you. Christ, Cass. You’ve got to lighten up a bit. You have a fantastic career—and no one doubts your ability at MII. You’ve worked too hard for anyone to question whether you’re good enough for the position you hold—or for a promotion.”

  “There are no promotions,” she mumbled against his finger.

  “Okay, not currently. But you know what I’m saying. If something were to open up in our division, you’d be a top candidate. The top candidate. The only thing you’re lacking, that I can see, is a social life.”

  “Oh whoa.” She pushed his hand away from her mouth. “Now we’re entering pot calling the kettle black territory.”

  “Huh?” He looked taken aback.

  “Well.” She drained her champagne flute and set it on an end table next to a tall potted plant. Crossing her arms over her chest, she said, “From what I hear, you don’t date any more than I do.”

  “That’s an easy one to address,” he told her, holding her gaze.

  “How so?”

  He thrust his chin upward. “The only woman I want to date keeps shooting me down.”

  She stared at him for endless moments. He waited patiently for her rebuttal.

  Finally, she said, “Here’s a newsflash—although it shouldn’t be because you ought to know this by now. I’m not your type.”

  “Aren’t I supposed to be the judge of that?”

  She bit into her lower lip briefly, then gave him an earnest, though somehow heart-wrenching look that disturbed him greatly. “Chase, were we to get together, I would be a huge disappointment. Trust me on this one.”

  Cassidy brushed past him, leaving him standing in the secluded corner, his mind whirling.

  There. She’d done it. Cassidy had told him what she should have said two years ago when he’d started lobbing flirty comments her way.

  Unfortunately, confiding in Chase did not lift the weight from her shoulders, as she’d hoped it would. Rather, she felt even more mired in the dismal reality that she did not possess any sort of animal magnetism herself. Nor was she capable of getting a man so hot and bothered that he had to have her this very second. She knew from experience.

  The sting of so many rejections caught up with her and Cassidy knew it was time to call it a night. No more drinking with Chase.

  She collected her wra
p from the coat-check stand and stepped outside, inhaling the crisp night air. The country club provided a complimentary Town Car for guests attending special functions, and she found the driver amidst the Escalades. He dropped her off at the mini-chateau and Cassidy flipped the switch on the tall gas fireplace. She kicked off her shoes and curled on the sofa with her laptop and stack of tidy black leather portfolios that contained the documentation she personally kept on all of her clients.

  Annual renewals were coming up for some of her insureds, and she wanted to spend the weekend reviewing their current policies, assessing needs they’d expressed over the past policy term and evaluating whether there were additional benefits MII could provide to keep them happy and committed to the company. Cassidy excelled at customer service, the reason she had the zero-percent turnover rate McClellan had mentioned, and why she landed the vast majority of her clients by word-of-mouth referrals, rather than having to farm for business.

  She settled in with her work and a plush faux-fur throw she’d brought from home.

  After a few assessments of portfolios, she checked her iPhone, since it continued to buzz, indicating incoming text messages.

  All from Meg.

  She scrolled through the first few.

  Where are you?

  Everything okay?

  Chase looks bewildered. You’re nowhere in sight. ????

  Hello? Anyone there?

  Cassidy grimaced. She typed a quick reply.

  Bailed so I could work.

  She tossed the phone onto the cushion next to her and opened another file. But she suddenly couldn’t concentrate on it.

  Chase looked bewildered?

  Her phone vibrated again. She barely spared a glance at the screen. Meg just didn’t give up.

  Want company?

  Cassidy sighed. She did, actually. Her heart wasn’t in her work this evening. Particularly following her humiliating admission to Chase.

  While her laptop powered down, she absently sent a text. Sure. And gave the address.

  She set the computer and folders on the coffee table, then went into the spacious kitchen and retrieved one of the bottles of chardonnay she’d stocked in the fridge. She popped the cork and poured two glasses.