Taking a deep breath, Chase inhaled the soothing aroma oozing out of the cool mist humidifier. His office was his home away from home, and he’d taken great care in designing it. Spacious and bright, it had large windows, potted plants, designer furniture and framed quotes by world leaders around the room, but reading the inspirational words didn’t help calm his nerves. He wanted to know why Demi had posted the damning video and to figure out how to get it off the internet.
“Ladies, I have work to do,” he said, returning to his desk “We’ll talk tomorrow. Good night.”
“Chase, we have to capitalize on your romance with Demi. It’s publicity gold. We can’t let this incredible opportunity pass us by,” Mercedes repeated. “We have to run with this.”
“No. We don’t. My personal life is off limits, so drop it.”
“But this is the marketing story of a lifetime.” Katia flashed her hands in the air, as if reading an invisible billboard, and spoke in a dramatic tone of voice. “Dashing app developer and scintillating beauty blogger meet in magical Ibiza, and sparks fly. Demi used your night together for her own professional gain, and so should we.”
A bitter taste filled his mouth. “No way.”
Katia’s face fell, but he didn’t apologize. Knew if he did she’d have the upper hand and he’d eventually cave to her demands. And that would be worse than a computer virus.
Memories of his night with Demi filled his mind. He’d never been emotional in the bedroom before, but the moment he’d slid his erection inside her, he’d lost it. He’d clung to her as they’d made love. Must have whispered the words “beautiful” and “spectacular” a thousand times. And had actually used the L-word. “I love being inside you,” he’d confessed, kissing her. “You’re incredible.” Days later Chase still didn’t understand his behavior and feared he never would. Demi had knocked him off his game and there was nothing he could do about it.
Mercedes spoke and the sound of her voice yanked him out of his thoughts.
“Chase, Katia’s right. You have to pursue Demi. The public will eat it up and sales of Sparks will skyrocket!” Dollar signs flashed in her eyes. “Maybe Demi can help us convince Geneviève and her drool-worthy fiancé, Roderick Drake, to shoot a commercial for the app—”
“But they didn’t meet on the app,” he interjected, bewildered by her marketing plan.
Katia shrugged. “Who cares? They’re a gorgeous couple and millennials love them.”
Chase pinched the bridge of his nose. His headache was getting worse and now his back ached, too. His employees knew about his horseback accident, had even visited him in the hospital a few times, but he hadn’t wanted them to know about his lingering symptoms, so decided to wait until they left to take his medication in private.
His gaze strayed to the compass-themed wall clock above the couch. Great. He’d wasted an hour arguing with Katia and Mercedes. If he didn’t get back to work, he’d miss visiting hours at the hospital and his mom would think he didn’t have time for her.
“We have to do something or Sparks is going to tank, and I’d hate for that to happen.”
Chase didn’t argue with Mercedes. The numbers didn’t lie. First-week sales and online reviews were critical to an app’s success and Sparks hadn’t generated any buzz. Still, he didn’t like the idea of wooing Demi for profit, and told Katia her plan was cold and calculated.
“No, that’s business,” Mercedes countered. “Sparks will generate world-wide attention, and Demi will have the pleasure of dating one of the sexiest, most coveted bachelors in the Hamptons. It’s a win-win for everyone, so let’s make it happen before Sparks sinks into the abyss of all-time worst apps.”
“It’s not going to work,” he said, shuffling the papers on his desk into a neat pile. “And even if I agreed with your plan, which I don’t, I wouldn’t even know how to contact Demi.”
Katia and Mercedes shared a look, then sidled up beside him, grinning from ear to ear.
“Good thing you have us to help you, huh, boss man?” Katia linked arms with him. “Now let’s go.”
He stared at her with wide eyes. “Go where?”
“To save Sparks, of course, so hustle. Time is of the essence.”
Ignoring his protests, Mercedes grabbed his leather briefcase and dragged him out of his office. The women escorted him past the reception area, through the sliding-glass door and into the taxi idling at the curb before Chase even realized he’d been kidnapped in broad daylight.
Chapter 13
“Passengers, we apologize for the delay and appreciate your patience as we wait for this matter to be resolved,” First Officer Van de Berg said over the intercom system. “I expect the ground crew will have the door open within minutes, but in the meantime please enjoy some more complimentary snacks and beverages from our in-flight service.”
Groans and sighs filled the air and Demi kicked her Fendi travel bag to let off some steam. It wasn’t the pilot’s fault that the cabin door was frozen shut, or that they’d been stuck on the JFK airport tarmac for an hour, but Demi was sick of twiddling her thumbs and desperate to escape the jet.
And she wasn’t the only one.
Althea was pacing the length of the cabin, ranting and raving about wanting a full refund from LuxuryJet Airlines. A security guard had his face buried in a sick bag and Char’s skin was so pale, Demi feared her friend was going to pass out. The only one who didn’t seem to mind the delay was Roderick. He had one hand on Geneviève’s thigh and the other on his iPad, but every few minutes he glanced up from the device to check in with her. His devotion to Geneviève was touching, admirable even, and deep down Demi was envious of their close relationship. But for every Roderick Drake, there were a million jerks who broke hearts for sport. Demi didn’t trust her own judgment anymore, and would rather have a successful career than find true love.
Why do you have to choose? whispered her inner voice. Why can’t you have both?
It was a good question but Demi didn’t want to waste time considering the answer, especially in light of what had happened with Chase in Ibiza. They’d connected in a real, profound way, had talked and laughed for hours, but he’d still left her and that rejection stung. Made her wonder what she’d done wrong, made her think she’d scared him off, but how? He’d been the aggressor, the one who’d asked to have brunch the next day, so why had he blown her off? Why had he sneaked out of her suite while she was in the shower?
Demi watched Char try to stand then drop back into her seat. Thinking fast, she grabbed a can of ginger ale off the steward’s drink cart, opened it and pushed it into the musician’s hands. Her full name was Charlotte Emerson, but everyone called her Char, and the cute nickname fit her bright, spunky personality. “Drink this, because if you throw up on this jet my mom’s going to beat you with her Birkin bag and I won’t be able to save you.”
Char cracked a smile. “Some friend you are.”
To cheer her up, Demi lobbed an arm around her shoulder, tossed her head back and sang an off-key rendition of Geneviève’s chart-topping song, “Salty Girl.” It worked. Char joined in, snapping her fingers and tapping her feet.
“Knock it off,” Althea snapped. “You’re giving me a headache.”
Demi smirked. “It’s not our fault her head hurts. Her wig’s probably too tight!”
“I heard that,” Althea said in a stern voice. “Don’t make me come over there.”
In a playful mood, Demi jumped to her feet, grabbed her mom’s hands and spun her around the cabin. Althea told her to knock it off, but sashayed and shimmed up the aisle as Demi sang. “Be nice, Mom, or I’ll write a blog about you entitled ‘How I Survived Althea Harris’ and the whole world will know how grumpy you are.”
Everyone laughed, including Althea. Demi gave her mom a hug and a kiss on the cheek. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d joked around with Althea, and hop
ed her mom’s good mood lasted longer than a McDonald’s commercial. “I love you, Mom.”
Althea cupped Demi’s chin in her hand. “I love you, too, sweetie, but the next time you make fun of my stylish Patti Labelle wig, I’m going to slap the taste out of your mouth.”
“Duly noted,” Demi said, slowly backing away from her mom.
Thirsty, Demi returned to her seat at the rear of the cabin, grabbed her bottle of water from the cup holder and took a sip. Glancing around the airplane, she noticed everyone looked less tense and the mood was lighter. Geneviève was staring at her in awe, as if she’d singlehandedly pried open the frozen airplane door, but Demi didn’t know why. Her sister mouthed the words Thank you and she returned her smile. Althea was still dancing around the cabin, executing the latest dance moves, and the members of Divalicious were cheering her on.
“Look!” Esmerelda shouted, taking the seat beside Demi. “Our video is trending.”
“Of course it is,” Demi joked. “We’re fabulous and everyone knows it!”
“You can say that again. It’s been viewed and re-posted over a million times.” Moving closer, Esmerelda stuck her iPhone in Demi’s face and tapped the screen. “Everyone’s going crazy, trying to figure out who your one-night stand is, and people all around the world are posting pictures of men named Chase. Shoot, I want this dark-chocolate hottie from New Zealand to be my second husband.”
Demi burst out laughing as she watched Esmerelda dance around in her seat. She should have known the video would go viral, but she’d never expected a post about her one-night-stand in Ibiza to cause a social media frenzy. “Girl, you’re hilarious. You’ve only been married for eight months, but you’re already ready for an upgrade. Poor Jamal.”
Esmerelda sucked her teeth. “Poor Jamal, my ass. If he was handling his business in the bedroom, I wouldn’t need to look elsewhere.”
Demi raised an eyebrow. Her friends often provided great inspiration for her blog posts, and Demi wanted to hear more. She leaned forward in her seat but before she could question Esmerelda about her marital woes, Char ambled up the aisle asking Demi about her plans for the week. “I won’t be back in Philly until the end of March, but if you come to the Hamptons next Friday, we can have a girl’s night out.”
“As if!” Char made a face that could scare a pit bull. “I’d much rather party in Philly.”
Demi sighed. Moving to the Hamptons was the smartest thing she’d ever done, and she only wished she’d relocated sooner. From the moment she’d arrived in the city, her career had taken off. She’d met countless celebrities, socialites and trophy wives who loved her lifestyle blog; these days Demi had so many social engagements, she needed two wall calendars to keep up with her busy schedule. “The Hamptons is my home now, and I’m there to stay.”
“Why? Your neighbors are rude and they don’t like anyone who’s different.”
Demi frowned. “Char, you’re white.”
“I know, but Shante, Esmerelda and Akari aren’t, and the last time we visited your condo, that old lady who lives next door gave us all kinds of attitude.”
“That’s because it was two o’clock in the morning and you clowns were pounding on my door like a SWAT team,” Demi argued, setting her friend straight. “Of course Mrs. Zuckerman hates you. Every time you come over you bring the noise, literally.”
“Speaking of noise,” Shante Ingram said, joining the conversation. “We should check out Hype in SoHo. Who’s with me?”
Demi dodged Shante’s gaze, pretended to study her French manicure. She was all clubbed out, tired of dealing with the crowds and obnoxious men with weak-ass pickup lines, but Shante’s common-law husband had recently moved out, and Demi knew her girlfriend didn’t want to go home to an empty house.
“I’m in,” Demi said with a bright smile. “But, if I’m going to get my club on tonight, I need to eat a proper meal. Those mini sandwiches they served for lunch were cute, but they did nothing to pacify my hunger. I want some finger-lickin’-good soul food from the Barbecue Pit and I want it now.”
“Tell it! Just thinking about their baby back ribs is making my mouth water.” Char glanced out the window and her jaw dropped. “Who is the tall, dark and handsome hottie on the tarmac in the designer suit, and where has he been my whole life?”
“Let me see!” Shante moved Char aside then whistled. “Wow, he’s dreamy!”
Amused, Demi cracked up at her friend’s antics, but when she spotted Chase on the tarmac, holding balloons, flowers and an oversize heart-shaped box, she bolted upright in her seat. How did Chase know where to find me? Did he see my online posts? Her gaze returned to the window. Chase was outside and Demi didn’t know whether to curse or cheer. On one hand, she was thrilled to see him again, but on the other, she was annoyed that he’d showed up at the airport.
“Girl, I’m hungry, but not for food,” Akari piped up, licking her plump, pink lips.
Demi smirked. “Is that any way for a wholesome Christian woman to talk?”
“It is when she’s been celibate for two years.” Closing her eyes, Akari bowed her head, clasped her hands and spoke in a solemn voice. “The good book says ask and you shall receive, and that man right there is an answer to a prayer.” Akari did the church shuffle up and down the aisle, and Demi howled in laughter.
The intercom came on and the pilot’s voice filled the cabin. “The door is open, and you’re free to disembark at the front of the plane. We apologize for the inconvenience and hope to see you again soon. Thank you for flying with LuxuryJet Airlines.”
“‘Free at last. Free at last. Thank God Almighty, I’m free at last!’” Althea jumped to her feet, grabbed her purse and sashayed through the cabin. “You guys better hurry up! I have things to do and people to see, so if you’re not in the limo in the next five minutes, I’m leaving you behind.”
Demi surged to her feet. She shuddered to think what would happen if Althea exited the plane first and approached Chase. Althea was as bold as she was loud, and Demi didn’t want her mom to scare Chase off before he had a chance to explain himself. He’d played her and she wanted to know why.
Demi smoothed a hand over her ponytail then inspected her outfit. Bread crumbs covered her mustard top and she had a coffee stain on her denim overalls. I’m a mess, she thought, straightening her crooked clothes. Chase is going to take one look at me and bolt.
Standing, she picked up her tote bag and made a beeline for the door. The sky was hazy, covered with thick, gray clouds, and the air smelled of diesel fuel. Baggage attendants unloaded the luggage in the cargo compartment of the plane then tossed them in the trunk of the black limousines parked on the tarmac. Slowly, Demi descended the stairs. She imagined herself tripping and falling flat on her face in front of Chase and shivered at the thought.
You can do this, encouraged her inner voice. You’re Demi Harris. A strong, fierce woman who can do anything she puts her mind to, so don’t let him see you sweat!
Walking tall, she pinned her shoulders back and exited the aircraft. Projecting confidence, she crossed the tarmac with more grace than the First Lady. His cologne carried on the evening breeze and the scent instantly calmed her nerves. Her limbs stopped shaking and the butterflies in her stomach disappeared. It was a tense situation, the most awkward moment of Demi’s life, but she smiled in greeting. Felt compelled to. He’d hurt her feelings, sure, but she was glad he was alive and well. That’s an understatement, she thought, licking her lips as she gave the app developer the once-over. He looks better than I remember and he smells divine!
Geneviève’s bodyguards marched toward Chase, asking him to identify himself, and he turned over his ID. Worried they’d rough him up, Demi explained he was a friend, and the bodyguards backed off.
“Chase, hey, what are you doing here?” she asked.
“I came to see you.” A broad smile curled his lips. “I hope that
’s okay.”
He lowered his head, but Demi stepped back, wisely moving away from him. Sadness flashed in his eyes, but she pretended not to notice the wounded expression on his face. Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me, Demi thought, repeating her mother’s favorite quote in her mind. Chase couldn’t be trusted, and she wasn’t going to make the same mistake twice. It didn’t matter that he looked good and smelled of expensive aftershave.She had to keep her guard up.
“Well, well, well, who do we have here?”
At the sound of Althea’s voice, Demi winced then hung her head. Oh, brother!
“I’m Demi’s mother, Althea. Who are you?”
“My name is Chase Crawford and I’m a friend of your daughter’s.”
Demi bit down on her bottom lip. Friends? Yeah, right, she argued, her gaze glued to his mouth. Friends don’t do what we did in the bedroom.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, young man.” Althea studied him for a moment then cocked her head. “If you don’t mind me asking, what do you do for a living, where do you live, and what’s your net worth?”
“Mom!” Facing Chase, she wore an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry. You don’t have to answer that—”
“Like hell he doesn’t!” Althea bellowed, nodding with such gusto her curls bounced around her head. “These are crazy times we’re living in, and a beautiful, young woman like my Demi can never be too careful, so it’s important I know who her friends are.”
Chase wore a polite smile. “I couldn’t agree more.”
“Good,” Althea quipped. “Then answer the question or I’ll call airport security.”
“I’m a successful app developer, based in New York, and I split my time between the Hamptons and Manhattan,” he explained. “I have no children, no pets and I’ve never been married.”
“And your parents?” Althea continued, raising an eyebrow. “What do they do?”
Mortified, Demi poked her mom in the side with an elbow, but it didn’t help. Althea continued questioning Chase, acted as if they were alone in her South Hampton estate rather than on the tarmac at JFK. Her mom was being extra, and it was times like this Demi wished they lived on different continents. She’d never been more embarrassed in her life, and if she could hop into the limousine and flee the scene she would without a second thought.
Southern Seduction ; Pleasure in His Arms Page 28