by Amy Fetzer
The next day, Tessa lifted her son in her arms and hugged him, aching inside, longing for his father to ease the pain she was feeling. She buried her face in his soft neck and inhaled the baby scents. She inhaled again, then frowned as she held up her son, eyeing him.
"You've been conspiring against me, haven't you?"
Christopher blew bubbles, his chubby legs pumping the air.
Tessa hugged him again, then looked across the living room at her elder sister and her mother. "Which one of you is going to confess to letting Chase in here every day?"
Celeste and Samantha paled, looked at each other, then Tessa.
"Christopher smells like his father." She'd been wondering why the scent kept haunting her.
Turning away, she kept her lips from curling into a smile, yet she wanted to shout. She wanted to laugh. Chase was sneaking behind her back to be with his son and it relieved some of Tessa's fears that even his son couldn't hold his love. She'd been wrong about a lot of things. Again. This gave her a little hope as she took her son with her to the bedroom. She dropped onto the bed, snuggling Christopher, and picked up the phone. She dialed Chase's number. It rang and rang, but the answering machine didn't pick up. Frowning, she decided she'd try again later. Chase had said they were done talking. Tessa had other ideas.
Dia gaped at the document. "Is he serious?" she asked, glancing at Tigh, then to Chase's back where he stared out the huge plate glass window.
"I tried, Dia," Tigh said, his expression bearing the battle he'd done with his client long into the night. "He won't budge."
"But this is too far, Chase. You can't do it."
Chase cast a glance over his shoulder, half-lidded and emotionless. His gaze dipped to the custody papers before Dia. "She's given me no choice, Dia. You know that."
"I can't believe it." She shook her head softly, her eyes wet. "I swear if I live to be a hundred, I never thought you'd do this."
Chase felt a sharp blade of pain dice him in two. Even the skilled lawyer couldn't see the end to his means.
"This will kill her," Dia whispered, a fracture in her voice as she stared at the papers, searching for the secret hidden within the legal words. "After all you've gone through together. You love her, don't you?" Dia held her breath.
Chase turned from the window, his hands braced behind his back. "More than my life. But she's cut me out of her life, and for what? Because she's afraid I only want her because of our son." His composure slipped a little and he pushed his fingers through his hair, destroying the neat styled look. "She's pushed me to this, Dia. Tessa can't find her heart and I can't wait around for her to do it."
Chase left the room, his own heart shattering with every step. For the hundredth time he hesitated about what he was doing, then he pressed on down the hall. He'd just played his trump card, and if he failed, he'd lose everything.
In her living room, Tessa stared at the thick folded papers in Dia's hand. Oh, God no, please no, she thought wildly. He wouldn't. Not Chase.
Tessa's hand trembled as she accepted them. "He did it, didn't he?"
Dia's face was vacant except for the brightness of her eyes. Tessa unfolded the thick document and scanned it. She inhaled sharply and dropped into the nearest chair. Tears welled in her eyes and she swallowed and swallowed and felt her heart about to burst in her chest. Instead it just ripped and tore, gouged by each word she read, bleeding so painfully she couldn't catch her breath. She covered her mouth, air rushing past her fingers.
"Oh, God. Why?"
"Does this really surprise you? You pushed and he folded, Tessa. What can I say?"
"You can tell me how this happened. How you let him do this." She shook the papers in her lawyer's face.
Dia grabbed them. "Get a grip. Hysterics won't help now. What did you think, Tessa? That Chase was going to keep letting you dictate his life and his son's? You've acted like a selfish prima donna, doing what you wanted and needed. He's a man with feelings, for heaven's sake, and he wants what's best for his son and a clean cut from you."
Dia threw the papers into her lap, ignoring the glares from Celeste and Samantha.
"Is someone going to tell us what this is about?" came from Samantha.
"Did he really petition to take Christopher?"
Tessa lifted her face to her mother and sister. "No. He didn't." She swiped at her cheeks with the back of her hand. "He signed away all his rights to Christopher, all claims except for yearly visitations."
Sam sank into a chair with a thump, stunned. Celeste cried without a sound, tears rolling down her flushed cheeks.
"There is a condition."
Tessa's gaze flew to Dia's.
"You'll notice it's not signed."
Tessa shook her head, confused.
"You have to spend this weekend with him, discussing it, first."
See him? No. She couldn't. She was already dying inside and that would kill her. "I can't. There's a—a businessmen's charity ball this weekend. I have to attend."
"He knows that. You're his date."
"No." She shot to her feet, anger spilling from every pore. "I won't. Not after this!"
Dia was in her face, her voice a low growl. "Do it, Tessa, or God knows what he'll be pushed to do next."
"He can't treat me this way!"
"You have exactly what you wanted. Your son. Free and clear of the donor."
"Damn it, Dia. It's not that simple anymore!"
Dia gestured to the papers. "It is to him."
Tessa's eyes narrowed, the document crunching in her fist. "I'll show him just how complicated this—" she shook the papers "—can get."
She left the room and Dia folded her arms over her waist, a tiny, satisfied smile on her lips. Her gaze slipped to her sister and, oblivious to their mother, a message passed. Sam's features tightened and she managed a smile. Tessa was going to fight.
Chase carried the bags to the car, then returned to the house, but Tessa was nowhere in sight. He felt strange just being inside the house with her here, since he'd played the sneak for the past two months. She was agreeing to the terms of custody, and even though Chase had put them to her, his hurt ground deeper that she would agree and not fight him. When Dia had called, he had hoped Tessa had refused his offer, hoping that she would be the next call.
But she wasn't. She'd accepted instead that he could easily dismiss his son from his life because of her.
Alone in the living room, he heard movement and soft voices from the back of the house. He glanced around, noticing few changes except for the evidence of a child in the house. Christopher's swing was tucked neatly in the corner, a basket full of his toys beneath; a piece of sheepskin lay spread in the center of the carpet. Chase crossed the room slowly, his fingers kneading a downy blanket tossed carelessly over the arm of a chair, then picking up a set of plastic baby keys.
God, he felt twisted inside and swore the slightest ripple in the air would make him snap. He was no better than the walking wounded, living in his anger, his hurt manifesting into an ugly thing he almost couldn't control. And masked beneath it was his love for Tessa. He buried it, every day shoveling another load of pain on top of it until no one recognized him. She knew where the phone was; she knew where he lived and worked. Why couldn't she see beyond her doubts and come to him? Why couldn't she give him the faith he'd given her? Was he doing all this just to hear her apologize and admit she was wrong?
No. It went deeper, so deep he felt raw inside, and he flinched when Samantha came into the living room, moving silently across the floor, opening her arms to him.
"Chase," she whispered, hugging him. Chase closed his eyes. Sam, he realized, chose no sides. "When I said to be stubborn right back, I didn't mean this."
His mouth quirked briefly as she stepped out of his arms. "She's late."
"Tessa's always late," she said matter-of-factly, and Chase suppressed a smile.
Celeste slipped into the room, Christopher in her arms, and Chase smiled instantly. She hel
d the baby out to him and he gathered his son against his chest, turning away. Sam and Celeste exchanged a frown, but didn't comment.
"Hey, slugger. How's my guy?" Chase nibbled on Christopher's toes as he cooed and shrieked with pleasure.
"God, you've gotten big." He whispered privately to his son, inhaling the sweet baby scents of powder and lotion. He pressed his lips to the top of his head. "Dad's missed you, you know that?"
Tessa stood in the hall entrance, watching. Her heart hadn't stopped racing since she heard him enter the house, and the sight of him in the chic black tuxedo went straight for the jugular. He looked heavenly. And as he held Christopher in his arms, not caring if anything got on his tux, it reminded her that loving was more important to Chase than appearances or another's opinion.
"She's going to make us late," he whispered to his son. "Do you think your mom's ready yet?"
"I am."
Chase looked up, his features pulling tight. Oh, God, he thought. How was he supposed to ignore that! Hell, he knew Tessa was beautiful. And he always saw her in sort of a dainty and seductive way. But this? This was eye-popping glamour. Electric blue crimped silk framed her face like a hood, almost as if the stiff fabric never touched her hair, her skin. It rippled crisply at her throat to offer only a glimpse of golden skin, the airy folds wrapped like a robe and hiding her curves. A satin sash roped her trim waist and she clutched a beaded bag, the frothy cuffs shielding most of her hands. It was captivating and mysterious and Chase's gaze dropped to her legs shimmering in stockings and her tiny feet in matching shoes. He wondered what the hell she had on under it. Yet her hair, styled in a chignon, the wisps falling loosely around her face, brought his attention, any man's attention, to her striking green eyes.
She looked like a chic black cat in a cocoon of blue.
She evoked sex. Pure and raw, and Chase felt the reaction down to his ankles. He didn't even feel Celeste take his son until he was gone. Chase kissed his boy one last time, then nodded to Tessa.
"Ready?"
"Yes. Definitely."
A spear of regret drove into his chest. She was ready to get this over with, he thought, wrapping himself in his hurt.
"Shall we?" she prompted, and Chase frowned into her smile.
Tessa felt her spirits lift a tiny fraction. He couldn't mask his desire for her even if he despised her. She kissed her son, gave last-minute instructions, then proceeded out the door.
Chase was a few steps behind her, watching her walk and telling himself he shouldn't be so intoxicated by the shoosh of fabric beneath the crisp silk. He opened the door and she brushed against him as she slid into the seat. Chase cursed himself for flinching and slammed the car door.
Tessa jumped, her gaze following him as he climbed in and started the engine.
"Are you okay?"
She laid a hand on his forearm and felt the muscles tighten.
Hell no, he wasn't okay. He wanted to take her in his arms and kiss the air right out of her. He wanted to rip that coat off and see what was beneath, but mostly he wanted the crowd in his trousers to leave.
Instead, Chase glared accusingly at her. She's just being pleasant till the papers are signed, he thought. Well, a lot can happen in a few hours, and his signature on the documents was the last of them.
Okay, she thought, so he's going to make this evening difficult. She hadn't expected any less. He looked ready to strangle her, his hurt and rage piercing her with every glance. I love you Chase. I do. Can't you see? Yet they rode in silence like two warlords preparing for battle. As they arrived at the hotel, Chase came around to her side, dismissing the valet and yanking open the car door. He didn't spare her a glance as she swung her legs out of the car.
But his gaze unwillingly dropped to her legs, long and sleek and well muscled, and followed the slight hike of her coat as she touched a foot to the ground. She grasped his hand and stepped onto the curb, then immediately let go. The warmth of his touch lingered on her palm. Cameras flashed wildly and suddenly every reporter in town wanted a shot of her. Chase put a hand to the small of her back and guided her between the velvet ropes inside.
"Good heavens, I didn't expect this!"
"Local coverage, good for donations." His tone was clipped, as if the slightest conversation would choke him.
"And what's the charity?"
His half-lidded gaze slid to her, his lips thin and hard. "Boy's Town."
For boys without fathers or families. Great, she thought. An evening of having the situation rubbed in her face.
Tessa's hopes dropped considerably as they walked through the lobby. His hand on her back felt like a lead weight, heavy and imprisoning. As they entered the banquet room, the festivities were in full swing, dancers moving across the floor, the buffet surrounded by local businessmen. A few paused on their way to the lavish buffet to say hello.
"Tessa." His tone was sharp and she turned, frowning. "Your coat."
Smiling softly, she loosened the sash, her gaze scanning the crowd for familiar faces as she let the coat slide down her arms.
"Oh, God," Chase moaned.
She looked at him, her eyes round with innocence. "Is something wrong?"
"No, nothing." The lie stuck in his throat, threatening to choke him for it.
But her dress drew the attention of every man within forty yards. He had the urge to throw the coat over her and hide her somewhere dark. It was a modernized version of a twenties style, formfitting shift, thin straps, low neckline. Too low. Hell, her breasts were practically pouring over the edge. Then she turned. He got a good look at the back and thought he'd come apart. Fabric draped off her shoulders to scoop so low he could see the curve of her spine, the dip of her waist, and for an instant he wondered how she kept it on. But that wasn't the worst of it. It was covered in beads, shimmering, clear bugle beads that gave the impression of movement even when she was still. The back half of the dress seemed to be cut to shape her bottom, flaring enticingly against the backs of her thighs as she walked. And Chase suddenly realized she was walking away from him.
He strode quickly to catch up with her, grasping her arm. "Where the hell are you going?"
She ignored his viperous tone and laid her hand on his chest, gazing into his eyes. "To get a drink. Would you like one?"
The heat of her touch scalded through the fabric, and Chase stepped back. "No. Our table is number seven." He turned on his heels and headed to it.
Tessa masked her disappointment and continued, stopping to speak with other shop owners, then continuing on to the bar. She didn't normally drink, but decided she needed a little something to give her some courage, however false. She thought she could soften him, reach past their problems and draw back the Chase who loved her so gloriously. She knew the dress was a terribly manipulative thing to use, and from his reaction, which was little more than bland, she was afraid it had failed. But she at least felt beautiful, sexy. Even as much as Chase had insisted she was before, now she felt the power of her femininity. And the two hundred crunches she executed daily to get her figure back.
She gave her order to the bartender, feeling the heat of Chase's stare on her spine, its stroke move up to her hair. She stole a look at him over her shoulder, and his blue gaze was like an assault, raking her from head to foot. Tessa smiled tremulously and tugged at her long drop earring. He turned his gaze elsewhere and she felt the cut like a slap. He was tolerating her this evening. But she had other plans. She accepted her drink and headed back to him.
Chase watched her come, her breasts bouncing deliciously with every long-legged step, her dress, that damn dress, offering more movement than it should. Chase thought he was going to make an absolute fool of himself and run across the room, punching out every man who looked at her. Because he recognized those glances. It was the "I'd like to see that body naked" look or the "does she make love as good as she moves?" look or the one that made his teeth grind, the "I want her now" look. He knew them all personally. And when several men sta
rted to intercept her as she crossed the room, Chase left his chair and met her halfway.
"Did you get what you wanted?"
She frowned at his sudden concern, the softness in his voice evoking memories. What I want is you, she thought, but nodded.
Again Chase placed his hand on her back, guiding her across the floor. It was an utterly possessive gesture and he had no right. Not now, not after the papers had been served, but the temptation of her skin beneath his palm, its smoothness, was more than he could resist.
Tessa swallowed a moan. His touch was almost like coming home and she would have moved closer, but three men blocked their path.
"Chase? Introduce us," a blonde in his late twenties insisted.
God, Chase thought, if he didn't know better he'd swear they were salivating.
"Gentlemen, this is Tessa Lightfoot, owner of—"
"Tessa's Attic," one man finished. "My sister shops there."
"You mean your wife does," another said, and the man flushed red.
They were Chase's competitors and she quickly discovered it went beyond business.
"Didn't you just have a baby?" the blonde asked with a quick, speculative glance down her body.
"Yes, a boy," she said, looking at Chase. "A beautiful boy." Chase smiled down at her with such unabashed pride she almost forgot the hurt they'd dealt each other.
"So what are you doing here with ugly?" blond and tall asked, nodding to Chase. "You could do much better, Tessa," he said moving closer, his eyes sliding to her breasts, then her face.
Her expression was bland. "With you, I suppose?"
"Oh yeah," he said with feeling, and the suggestion snapped Chase's patience.
"Back off." Chase slid his arm tighter around Tessa's waist. "Miss Lightfoot is my fiancée."
The man winced, shrugging sheepishly as he retreated.
Tessa stared up at Chase and hoped her mouth wasn't hanging open. She didn't dare contradict the man she loved in front of his colleagues, yet her eyes narrowed with swift anger as she agreed. The crowd of admirers quickly dissipated.