by Lisa Cardiff
Chasing Forever
by Lisa Cardiff
Chasing Forever
Copyright © 2014 by Lisa Cardiff. All rights reserved.
First Print Edition: May 2014
Limitless Publishing, LLC
Kailua, HI 96734
www.limitlesspublishing.com
Formatting: Limitless Publishing
ISBN-13: 978-1499299274
ISBN-10: 1499299273
No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to locales, events, business establishments, or actual persons—living or dead—is entirely coincidental.
Dedication
To my family with love.
Chapter One
This cannot be happening. This cannot be real. That cannot be him. Regan Pierce stared dumbly at the man who wore a custom dark black suit, hoping against all odds that he was an illusion brought on by the stress of starting a new job, the job of her dreams, a coveted summer associate position at Martin and Black, LLLP. Just when she thought she had buried the memories so deep they ceased to exist, proof of her most humiliating experience stood less than five feet in front of her. Six years, six months, and three days—that was the last time she saw him. Now, two universities and thousands of miles later, the wounds from their last encounter oozed through her veins, raw as ever.
If someone paid her a million dollars to reveal her most embarrassing moment, she would categorically refuse. After six years, six months, and three days, she wished she had the strength to laugh at her mistakes, but Lucas Evanston was one mistake she would regret forever. The wound he inflicted would always be too fresh, too raw to forgive. She’d spent years cultivating a new persona. She scrubbed every last shred of that naïve girl from her soul. Now she was strong and forceful, demanding perfection from others as well as herself. No one could accuse her of being starry-eyed and gullible anymore. The joke would never be on her again.
With that thought, she took a deep breath, squared her shoulders and lifted her chin defying this man to ridicule her, to remember her, to face her without all his lackeys in tow.
Sensing the charged silence, Mrs. Langston, the human resources director, cleared her throat. “Regan Pierce, this is Lucas Evanston. He’s been assigned as your senior associate mentor for the summer.”
She watched Lucas reach out to shake her hand in greeting. For a moment, she considered playing along and pretending she didn’t know him, but she refused to cower or hide. So instead, she looked at him as though he had just offered to share a communicable disease rather than shake her hand. “We’ve met, right, Lucas? If I’m not mistaken, we attended the University of Texas at the same time.”
Lucas’s hand froze in the air, the ingrained look of arrogance on his face replaced with an expression of pure astonishment. Shoving his hand in his pocket, he quickly hid his surprise by shuttering those hooded amber eyes, letting an indolent smile play at the corner of his lips. Yes, she was intimately familiar with those hooded eyes and those egotistical lips. The look nearly stopped her bitter heart when the humiliation she suffered at his hand surfaced like a bad habit. Instead of crumbling as she had in the past, she let her bitterness escape and fester so she could harden herself against him.
“Right,” Lucas responded. “I thought your name looked vaguely familiar when I reviewed your file. What are you doing so far from home? You were raised in Austin weren’t you?”
“You know I was,” she replied snidely, toying with the bracelet on her wrist.
“Right, of course.” He smiled, flashing that dimple in his left cheek, and she looked away trying to ignore the fluttering in her chest. She wouldn’t be defeated by that dimple, not this time.
Mrs. Langston cleared her throat again, obviously trying to ignore the tension building in the room. “It’s great that you two are already acquainted. Regan, Lucas will show you around, explain our firm’s policies regarding lunch and his expectations for the summer.”
When she turned to leave, Regan raised her hand in inquiry. “Mrs. Langston, is it too late to be reassigned to another mentor for the summer?”
Speechless, Mrs. Langston’s head shifted back and forth between Lucas and Regan like a ball in a pinball machine. She clearly didn’t have any idea how to respond to Regan’s request. Regan wanted to kick herself for opening her mouth in front of Lucas. The instant the question fell out of her mouth, she knew she should have waited to broach the subject in private.
“Regan, I can present your request to the partners. However, the partners assign mentors based on your area of interest. Generally, the partners don’t condone reassignments unless the intern wants to change their specialization or if there is an unavoidable personality conflict. Is there something you’d like to discuss later, perhaps?”
Groaning inwardly, she knew she’d made an error. She should have kept her mouth shut. Lucas Evanston would never control life ever again, and that meant not walking away from her dream summer associate position so she could avoid facing him. Maybe Lucas’s position at Martin and Black made obtaining one of the coveted offers for an associate position after she graduated next spring impossible, but there were other top tier law firms. “No, I don’t want to change my specialization. I think Lucas and I can manage to work together for a few months.” She bit on her lip and looked away from Lucas’s penetrating stare. “It was just a hypothetical question. There’s no need to bother the partners.”
Hearing Lucas’s subtle chuckle, she focused her attention on him, her eyes narrowed in something resembling hatred. She wished she had the fortitude to feign indifference, but the bile turning her stomach prevented it. Regardless of the fury pounding through her veins, Regan wouldn’t let him win this round or any other one in the foreseeable future. She was stronger now. That would be the last laugh he had at her expense.
“Now would be a good time for the tour. Don’t you think?” she suggested, angling her head toward the office hallway.
“You first.” Lucas motioned for her to go into the hallway.
“Nice meeting you, Regan. Let me know if you have any questions,” Mrs. Langston interjected as she turned and walked in the opposite direction. Her steps were hurried as if she couldn’t escape them fast enough. Regan wished she could escape with her. The miles and years that had passed since she’d last seen Lucas weren’t near enough in her opinion.
“You too and thank you for your time, Mrs. Langston,” Regan called after her.
Following Lucas down the hall, she listened as he politely pointed out the lunchroom, the library, and the offices of some colleagues. Stopping outside an interior office slightly larger and no less stuffy than a storage closet, Lucas motioned for her to go inside. She stepped past him, carefully ensuring she didn’t brush against him.
Lucas leaned against the black metal doorframe. “This is your office for the summer. I had my secretary, Annabelle, assemble a detailed summary of my caseload. You’ll find it in the inbox on the corner of your desk. Spend the day familiarizing yourself with the details of each case, and we can reconvene in my office tomorrow morning to discuss your role for the summer. If you have any questions before then, ask Annabelle. She is amazingly efficient. I couldn’t do this job without her.”
“Okay,” she replied as she ran her finger along the length of the light maple desk. The office wasn’t glamorous, with its patterned gray carpet and stark white wall
s, but at least she had an office. In some of the smaller firms, she knew the summer associates shared an office or sat in a cubicle with the staff.
“Annabelle can help you get your computer passwords set up. Her extension is 114.”
Sliding into a black leather chair, Regan tapped her fingers on the desk trying to ignore the uncomfortable silence in the small office caused by a strange mixture of wariness and combustible nervousness. “Well, thanks for the tour.”
Pushing away from the doorframe, Lucas walked toward her desk, bracing his hands on either side of the sharp corner across from her. His enigmatic eyes stared her down and she refused to blink even though her hands twisted in her skirt to keep from fidgeting. She wouldn’t allow him to intimidate her.
To distract herself from his piercing stare, she catalogued the differences the previous six years had wrought. The last traces of his boyish face were gone, replaced with clean-shaven sharp angles. His wavy brown hair had always been an inch or two too long, but now it was well-trimmed and elegantly styled. Gone were the dark, low slung jeans and t-shirts. Today he wore an expensively styled suit that stretched across his still impressive shoulders complemented perfectly with a merlot colored tie. Six years ago he was impressive. Now he was wickedly sexy. Too bad he was a complete and total asshole.
“So, how is the Professor these days?” he asked, a patronizing smile playing at the corner of his lips.
She forced her face into a blank stare, void of emotion even though the mere sight of him irritated her more than she thought possible. “Still lecturing. How’s Olivia?”
Lucas’s eyes narrowed, then he smiled that superior smile of his, and she struggled against the overwhelming desire to throw the black pencil holder perched on the corner of her desk at his face. Maybe it would add some character to his flawlessly sculpted features. After all, a shallow person should be thankful for the addition of character even if it were physical rather than emotional. Instead, she took a deep breath, pushed the hair from her eyes, and painted a frozen grin on her face.
Lucas stood up and folded his arms across his chest. “She’s great.”
“Good to know.”
Lucas nodded, then walked out of her office without another word, leaving her feeling wounded and vulnerable. Honestly, she could have lived her entire life without seeing Lucas Evanston again. Now she had to face three months of seeing his face at least five or more days a week.
Overwhelmed with the sensation of long-buried emotions bubbling to the surface, she rested her head on the desk. Just when Regan thought things had finally started to look promising, he walked back into to her life. She remembered the first time she laid her eyes on him as if it happened yesterday. If someone told her what the future held, she would’ve turned around and walked right out the door and saved herself the agony. Then again, if they didn’t meet at that party on that particular day, something told her they would have met some other way. Fate can be cruel like that, slowly and inexorably molding and shaping life regardless of any dreams to the contrary.
Chapter Two
Six years, three months, and four days ago...
Her hands chilled from the crisp late September wind, Regan rubbed them together as she walked into a fraternity house, the name of which she couldn’t remember. Sigma something, she thought. She located the house by the street name and the loud music pulsing out of the windows and doors.
Surrounded by at least a hundred co-eds, Regan gazed through a haze-filled room at the people drinking themselves into oblivion. Instead of feeling like part of the crowd, she felt conspicuously alone and on display. At the moment, she regretted insisting she would meet her friends at the party rather than joining them in their pre-party activities. Trying to suppress the anxiety coursing through her veins, threatening to send her right back out the door, she slowly walked into the house desperately seeking a familiar face.
Regan paused at the entrance of a room resembling a family room. The furniture had been shoved against the yellowed walls to accommodate more bodies. She scanned the faces. She didn’t recognize anyone.
As she turned to leave the room, her gaze fell on a man sitting nearby in a brown leather chair. His long legs were stretched out in front of him, and an amused smile played at the corner of his lips, curling them upward ever so slightly. A pretty, willowy, brunette with silky brown hair and a forced smile perched on the arm of his chair. Her hand possessively stroked his forearm almost as if she were marking her territory. Sensing Regan staring, the woman’s eyes met hers as she tugged nervously on the bottom of her black sweater.
Leaning down, the woman whispered something in his ear. His eyes zeroed in on Regan. They were an amazing amber color, fringed with thick black lashes. The intensity of his stare momentarily immobilized her. She couldn’t look away as a thousand emotions swirled through her—desire, curiosity, confusion, and surprise. She’d never felt an instant attraction to anyone before, but as his eyes soaked in every detail of her body, starting at her head and moving slowly downward, flames shot through her making her feel alive.
And then…he smirked before he leisurely looked back at the brunette, and threw his head backward, a deep laugh erupting from his chest that made her breath hitch.
What was wrong with her? Caught staring and feeling completely exposed, she studiously trained her eyes on the wood floors beneath her feet as she pushed her way out of the room, fighting the swarms of people to search for her friends, Ava and Erica. They had told Regan to meet them at the party but, so far, she hadn’t seen one familiar face.
Knowing her friends, they were sidetracked on a mission to find the Holy Grail, otherwise known as any form of alcohol. Regan had arrived at least forty-five minutes after they agreed to meet, hoping they would already be there, and she could avoid the awkwardness of roaming around a party, not knowing a single person. Apparently, their pre-party went on longer than anticipated. God knew they wouldn’t risk showing up at a party completely sober. Where was the fun in that? Oh wait, she was entirely sober as usual.
Entering the kitchen, she watched open-mouthed as a group of girls danced on the countertop to “Pour Some Sugar on Me” by Def Leppard. As she stared at the display, she decided the lyrics were way more provocative than a sloppy reenactment performed by a group of drunken, self-absorbed sorority girls pouring sugar all over each other while a bunch of fraternity jackasses cheered. The literal interpretation didn’t really do the song justice.
Courtesy of the free soft porn show on the countertop monopolizing everyone’s attention, she didn’t have to wait in line for a drink. Normally, she didn’t drink alcohol, or go to parties for that matter, but she promised her dorm friends she would make an effort to enjoy herself and be a normal college freshman for once.
All her friends had rushed a sorority at the beginning of their freshman year a couple months ago, but Regan evasively refused to participate making some lame excuse that it might hurt her GPA, and she couldn’t risk losing her academic scholarship. In reality, her dad, a Professor at the University, told her Greek life wasn’t an option, that she was there to learn and not to party, end of discussion. Accustomed to his autocratic bullying, she didn’t push the issue, instinctively sensing she would lose the argument. Besides, the great Professor Pierce would find a way to blackball her from the sororities if she participated in rush, so it was pointless to try.
Even though she didn’t join a sorority with the other girls from the dorm, her friends swore she wouldn’t be denied access to the party. Apparently, when a fraternity hosted these parties, it gave one sorority the golden ticket to attend, so in theory, only the chosen girls would be admitted to the party. In reality, the fraternities admitted any halfway decent looking girl who knocked on the door. Of course, no other guys were allowed. According to Regan’s friends, this increased the odds of finding a hook-up for the night. It sounded kind of sleazy to her, but who was she to judge. She had a father that preyed on students. Okay, maybe it was just one that
she knew of, and she’d heard the girl was twenty-one, but she refused to throw stones.
Regan’s parents filed for divorce two weeks ago, and she had been moping around the dorm ever since. Her dad was always domineering, condescending, and generally not pleasant to be around. She often wondered how her mom put up with him, but when Regan complained about him, her mother always defended his behavior saying he was a good and loyal man who took care of his family.
Catching her dad with his pants down on his desk with one of his students quickly changed her tune. When her mom broke the news to her, Regan thought she was joking. Her dad always acted so moral and righteous, constantly looking down on people who failed to meet his lofty standards. The thought of him stepping over the line and not only breaking University policies, but also destroying his family in one swift stroke kind of blew her whole reality out of the water.
Sipping on the cheap, barely cold beer from a red plastic cup, she kept her eyes downcast, hoping no one would approach her. Beneath the veil of her eyelashes, she covertly scanned the room for her friends while attempting to blend into the dimly lit corner of the kitchen. Good thing she agreed with Ava’s recommendation to change out of her flower appliqué sweater because she would have literally qualified as a wallflower, not to mention it was kind of a lame sweater.
If her friends didn’t show up by the time she finished her beer, she fully intended to leave, regardless of what she had promised. Her friends argued she needed a night to relax and have fun, but hiding in a corner at a party where she knew no one wasn’t going to improve her mood.
Lost in her thoughts, she flinched when a warm body brushed hers. Looking up, her gaze landed on a familiar pair of amber eyes. She froze, completely at a loss for words. A thrill of alarm shot through her as he leaned against the wall inches from her. It was him, the guy who’d been sitting in the brown leather chair she’d been caught ogling earlier, Mr. I’m-Too-Sexy-For Words.