Chase and Seduction

by Randi Alexander

  She'd told him she could forgive him anything. But how much was too much? Was he back to his old ways? Sleeping with anything in a skirt? Still, the idea of a life without him was unimaginable. She wiped the wetness off her cheek.

  "Stop it.” She'd cried far too many tears for him. And the students and faculty of the Sorbonne deserved her full attention. She walked to the table and sat, her uncompleted letter in front of her. She'd finish writing it, and she'd mail it. And any time she felt the urge to cry, the need to yell and scream, or the longing to be in his arms, she'd write another one and send it to him.

  Maybe one day she'd hear back from him...No, she probably wouldn't. He was stubborn, he thought he was doing what was best for her. “Stupid idiot.” She'd give him time. Give him space. Then, if she hadn't heard from him, she'd corner him and bully him into admitting how he felt about her. “Yeah. Easier said than done."

  Almost three weeks on the road, and Chase couldn't concentrate. Everything he did made him think of Reno. Meeting the president, he wished she was there to see that he had some high-and-mighty friends, too. Singing for a group of sick children in a hospital in Maine, he wanted her by his side to help him hug the little ‘uns. And every concert, he walked the stage, scanning the crowd, looking for her. But she'd never come. He saw to it. Deleted her messages and e-mails, made her think he was done with her. “Shit.” Would he ever get her off his mind?

  Before heading out on tour, he got piss-drunk, started a fire by the pool, and burned everything he owned that reminded him of her, including the suitcase full of his clothes that she sent him. And when the fire department swarmed his ranch, he'd been just about to burn the letter she'd sent with it. But the firefighters were a sign, karma, and he kept the letter. Unopened. Some day he'd be able to read it, but not yet. She was still too fresh in his memory.

  Four months later, Chase sat in a big, red-leather chair in his dressing room drinking tequila and washing it down with beer. Alone. On his birthday. Where the hell was he? Chicago?

  He glanced at himself in the wall mirror. He looked like shit. Running a hand through his hair, he tried to get it to stay down, but he'd fallen asleep after his shower, and it rooster-tailed all over his head. The dark circles under his eyes made him look old, and his skin was red and puffy. Like his dad.

  Staring into his reflection, he told himself, “You screwed up bad.” Worse than anything his dad ever did. Two weeks ago when he went home for a few days, his housekeeper gave him a huge stack of his personal mail, including about twenty letters from Reno. And one postcard.

  The envelopes he stuffed in a drawer, but the postcard got to him. A picture of the French countryside, flowers and trees, a river, rolling hills. Probably what her place in South Dakota looked like in the summer. He made the mistake of turning it over and reading. Her loopy writing made him smile, but her words brought an ache to his heart. Chase, It's beautiful here, my work keeps me busy, but my nights are lonely without you. Please come and visit. Reno.

  He tossed it into the drawer with the other letters and backed away. Backed right up to the liquor cabinet and filled his glass to flood out the pain. Then two days later, in one of his drunker, weaker moments, he told his housekeeper to go out and buy a dozen sappy birthday cards. Ones that said something about, “for the woman in my life."

  She'd brought back about twenty, wordlessly handed them to him, and stormed out the door. He didn't blame her for being disgusted. He'd turned into a drunken asshole. Just followin’ his old man's footsteps.

  He read the cards and picked the perfect one. Not too mushy. Then he yelled for Sue Lynn, had her address it to the return address on Reno's envelopes. She pointed out that he hadn't signed it. He said, “I'm not signing it. And don't put my return address on it.” He waved her out. “Go to the post office and have them send it the fastest way possible."

  She tsked and stomped away, and he passed out.

  The next morning, he woke on the couch, his bleary eyes staring right at the birthday cards spread across the coffee table. “Shit!” What the hell had he done? He picked up the cards and threw them in the trash, then dove head-first into a bottle.

  Now, on his birthday, things were falling apart. Two solid weeks of drinking affected his performances. But thank God he hadn't heard back from Reno. If she was smart, she'd drop his card in the shredder and move on with her life.

  A knock on the door shook him out of his daydream. “Come in."

  "Chase, my best client.” It was his agent, Harwood Rossburg. And he wasn't alone. Every year on his birthday, Harwood brought him a couple gifts. Two beautiful blonde hookers. Expensive ones.

  Harwood put his hands on the girls’ lower backs. “This is Velvet, and this is Lace. They're a team, and they're yours for the rest of the night."

  They were perfect. Both of them tall and thin, big tits in tight shirts, one in velvet booty shorts, and the other in a lace miniskirt. Both of them smiled seductively. In the past, Chase took advantage of the gift, before, during, and after his concert. But tonight, he didn't feel much like doing anything but drinking.

  Chase stood and wobbled a bit. “Harwood, man, you've outdone yourself this year.” He took each of the girls’ hands and kissed them. “Pleased to meet you ladies. Would you mind...?” He gestured to a door behind them, leading to the adjoining room where he got his hair and makeup done. “Harwood and I have to talk for a minute, but help yourself to anything you'd like."

  The girls leaned in on their four-inch heels and kissed him on each cheek. One said, “Don't be long.” The other one said, “We'll be waiting for you.” They giggled and strutted through the door.

  His agent laughed. “What do you possibly have to talk about that can't wait until you've shot your load into those girls’ mouths?"

  Chase flopped back onto the chair and blinked to clear his vision. “I'm having trouble writing."

  That got his agent's attention, and he pulled up a chair. “We've promised your label a twelve-song CD by the end of the year. What's going on, buddy? What can I do to get your creative juices flowing?"

  He shrugged. “I don't know. I wanted the album to come out with the movie. But I've hit a wall."

  "You have the Prairie Fire song. That's going to be a number one."

  He sighed. The mention of the song he'd written for Reno made his chest contract. It was too personal. A love song meant for one perfect woman. He rubbed his forehead. “I might need to get some songwriters in.” Damn it, he'd never had writers’ block before.

  "Okay, okay, whatever you need. Just tell me who you like, and I'll have them waiting for you at the end of the tour."

  Chase's phone rang. He stood and shook Harwood's hand. “Thanks. And thanks for the gift.” He gestured to the closed door into the next room. Although he sure as hell wouldn't be enjoying them.

  Harwood clasped Chase's shoulder. “Happy birthday, Chase. Keep in touch.” He walked out.

  Chase answered his phone. “Yeah?"

  Mr. Tanner, it's security at the loading dock. There's a woman here who says she's your girlfriend."

  He'd heard this one before. “I don't have a girlfriend."

  The man's voice was muffled, then he said, “She says to tell you it's Reno."

  Reno? Here? Chest pains, couldn't breathe—goddamn. What did she want? He'd been ignoring her for months. Couldn't she take a hint?

  "Mr. Tanner?"

  He snapped, “What's your fucking hurry? Shut up a minute."

  "Sorry."

  Shit, he'd been snapping at everyone for months. Things were just starting to get easier, he was beginning to forget what it was like to hold Reno, make love to her, and sleep with her spooned against him all night. Then in the morning, her amber eyes looking at him with tenderness, then with a naughty gleam as he took her from behind. “Fuck."

  She must have come back from France when she got that birthday card. Why had he done it? He knew, straight up, she'd be better off without him. She should stay in
Europe. Marry somebody at the college, have smart kids. But she wouldn't break if off clean, she wouldn't believe it was over, until he showed her what an ass he was. He looked at the door to the next room where the hookers’ giggles echoed loudly.

  This was going to hurt him more than it would hurt her, but it was the only way to set her free.

  Into the phone, he told the security guy, “Hey, man, let her in, and have somebody bring her right to my dressing room."

  "I sure will, Mr. Tanner. Thank you."

  He hung up, opened the door to the arena, and told his big Samoan bodyguard, “Tony, when Reno Linden gets here, let her right in."

  "Sure.” He glanced into the room. “Want me to move the ‘ladies’ somewhere else?"

  "Hell, no. They're part of the surprise."

  He stared at himself in the full-length wall mirror. Dark circles looked like bruises under his eyes. There wasn't time for makeup, and without it, she'd know he was having a rough time. He grabbed his hat off the counter and settled it low on his head. It hid his exhaustion, but nothing could hide the hatred he felt for himself. In the mirror, he flicked himself the finger. “Don't screw this up, asshole. Do what's right for Reno."

  [Back to Table of Contents]

  Chapter Fourteen

  A loud knock sounded on the door, and it swung open. His bodyguard called, “Visitor, Mr. Tanner."

  Chase kept his head down, his hat covering his face.

  "Hello, Chase.” Her sweet voice cut through his numbness, breathing life into his dying heart.

  Slowly he lifted his head. There she stood, his beautiful Reno. Her cheeks pink, her amber eyes big as spotlights, her lips quivering. She'd dressed for the concert, jeans and boots, a low cut shirt and a fringed jacket. She clutched a giant Holstein-print purse to her stomach.

  Every instinct told him to run to her, drop onto his knees and beg her forgiveness. Promise her anything if she'd take him back. But he couldn't be the reason she didn't achieve her dreams.

  "Reno. What're you doing here?"

  She seemed confused. “I got your card. I thought you wanted to see me.” Her voice shook.

  He leaned on the couch back, crossing his arms. “Sorry about the card. It was a mistake. A miscommunication to my staff."

  Blinking rapidly, she asked, “Why are you pushing me away?” Her voice sounded choked. “Is it because of Drake? The night he stayed at the farm?"

  "No. I know nothing happened between you two. Not that you shouldn't have told me about it anyway."

  "I'm sorry. I didn't want to get into the reason he was there."

  "The job in France?” Chase asked.

  "Chances of my getting the position were slim, and I didn't want to have to explain because—"

  "Because you didn't think I would let you apply for it? Because you going away for four months would have upset me, and you didn't want to have to deal with it?” He snorted a humorless laugh. “You know me too well. That's exactly how I responded when you took the job. Unreasonable and selfish."

  The opposite of what he was doing now. For her. Unselfish and logical, but it hurt like hell. How did he make her see that it was what she needed?

  Her face drained of color. “No. That's not why."

  He straightened and faced her. “That's exactly why. I'm an old school kind of guy. I expect my woman to be by my side. And you've got a career that takes you away. It doesn't work. For either one of us.” Crazy talk that sounded more like his dad's mentality than his, but it brought up a disturbing question. Did he really want Reno to stay out of his spotlight?

  She pressed her fingers to her lips, then dropped her hand. “We just—"

  "We live in different worlds. That's the problem."

  "No we don't. We live in one world, where you and I are the only people who matter."

  He shook his head. The only person who mattered was Reno, and her happiness depended on her moving on. “You're destined for greater things than a tour bus..."

  "Drake told you that, didn't he. He is full of shit, Chase. I never wanted to be part of the literary elite. Never. That's what he wanted for me. What he thought was best for my writing."

  She stepped forward, gripping the purse against her body. “But don't you think I know what's best for me?"

  He looked into her sparkling eyes, and when she blinked, twin tears ran down her cheeks. Her pain stabbed him clear through what was left of his soul.

  "You already live in that world, Reno. You're a teacher now. Prairie Fire is still on the New York Times bestseller list. Your career is taking off."

  Reno shook her head. “No, Chase—"

  "We've moved in different directions."

  Loud giggles sounded from the next room, and Reno turned her head toward the noise.

  Chase brushed past her and walked to the door of his makeup room. “This is my life, Reno.” Steeling his resolve to use every dirty trick to convince her, he opened the door.

  One of the girls called, “Are you ready for us now, Chase?” More giggling.

  Reno's face turned red as she stared into the adjoining room. Then she straightened her back and wiped the tears from her cheeks. Walking right up in his face, she said, “I see what you're doing, and it won't work. You're just like Drake, aren't you? You think you know what's best for me. Well that's bullshit."

  He stared at her. She never swore before. He'd brought that out in her—him and his bad habits. He tipped his head down, hiding the pain in his eyes. “You need to move on with your life. I have."

  "I can't. I'm..."

  He glanced up at her, waiting for her to finish. But they weren't alone.

  Reno's hollow stare followed the blondes as they walked into the room and stood on each side of him. She sucked in a shaky breath. “I love you Chase. I always will.” She turned and walked out.

  He watched the door swing closed. He couldn't breathe. Love? She loved him? Oh, shit. How would he live the rest of his life knowing she loved him? Because, damned if he didn't love her, too.

  The ladies pressed into him, sandwiching him between them. He thought about it, the mind-numbing relief of sex, the peaceful glide into sleep after orgasm. But he had no interest. Since he walked away from Reno, there'd been no one else. As gently as he could, he herded the girls back into the makeup room. He'd wait ten minutes until he was sure Reno was gone, then he'd have his bodyguard send them home.

  As he sat in his chair, he looked around at his empty dressing room. He'd gotten rid of her, all right, and she wasn't coming back. Only feet separated him from seven professional musicians, thirty-five Tanner Touring employees, and eighteen thousand fans, but he was absolutely alone.

  A hollow ache, like a deadly heart attack but not as merciful, started in his chest and spread through his body. Would he ever find anyone else like her? Did he even want to try?

  Reno walked out of Chase's dressing room, pain clawing at her stomach, the surreal scene burned into her memory. She stopped and looked around the dark backstage area. Which way had she come in? She'd been so excited to see him, she barely paid attention.

  The massive guard outside the door asked, “Are you staying for the show?"

  She shook her head. “I've seen all of Chase that I can stand for one night.” Tears choked her, and she whispered, “Would you please tell me where the loading dock is?"

  He gestured to her left. “Are you okay, miss?"

  She forced a smiled as tears traced down her face, making a liar out of her. “Just fine. Thanks.” It was nice that someone cared, but not the right someone. She walked across the backstage area, her new cowgirl boots clicking loudly on the concrete floor. Catching a glimpse of the stage and the arena, she stopped to look out at the chattering crowd filling every seat of the sold out venue. So many fans worshiped him. Didn't he see what a profound impact his words and music had on the world? His charitable donations alone could support an entire city. He was a good, conscientious person. Why did he think he was a detriment to her career?
Was it whatever Drake said to him? That wasn't like Chase. He was strong and determined. He made his own path through the word.

  As she walked, she went back over every story he told her about his parents, his childhood, his lucky break in Nashville, and his last girlfriend, the pretentious bitch. But what wasn't he telling her? What linked all the troubled pieces of his past together to make him incapable of reaching out and grabbing happiness for himself?

  When she located her car, she leaned against the door for a minute and dug her keys out of her purse. Maybe she'd never know what drove Chase to do the things he did, but she didn't have time to waste on it right now. She reached down and touched her stomach. Six months pregnant. “Little one,” she spoke to her baby bump. “That was your daddy.” Two months ago, she realized that, duh, no menstrual cycle and a swelling belly meant “baby on board.” She'd covered it up pretty well in France, but just recently, her body changed a great deal, and she started showing out front. The Sorbonne was probably glad to be rid of her. Not only was she depressed, lethargic, and sick to her stomach during the day, but at night, she wouldn't go out for drinks with the faculty, or let them show her the sights. And worse, she'd set a bad example for the students—no wedding ring.

  She slid into the rental car and started it, then pulled out a map of the US. Chicago to South Dakota. A long drive. She'd find a hotel on the outskirts of the city for the night, then push herself tomorrow and try to make it in one day. Her own bed and her favorite pillow after four months would be a dream come true. As she pulled out of the arena, the hot June sun blinded her for a moment, but her eyes adjusted and she scouted for signs directing her to Interstate 90, which would take her all the way home. She'd call her family tomorrow and let them know she was on her way. She smiled. Wait until her mom and brother saw her. They would shit circles around themselves.

  She jumped on I90 and set the cruise control. There were a couple hours of daylight left, and she'd make the most of it before she found a nice hotel. Just a half hour ago, she'd been planning to sleep with Chase tonight. She'd imagined his face when he saw her, his surprise when he saw her stomach. And his finding the perfect seat for her to watch his concert, then whisking her off to start their life together as a family. But instead, he tried to shock her out of his life.