by Roxy Sloane
“I’m not . . . I don’t . . .” I splutter, before catching the glint of humor in his blue eyes. “Very funny.”
He grins. “I’m just kidding. I saw you from outside, thought I’d come say hello. What are you reading?”
Before I can answer, he plucks my pile of romance books from my arms. “Looking for a happy ending, are we? I could say the same.” He winks.
I flush and snatch them back. “Don’t let me keep you from . . . whatever you were doing.”
“That’s alright, running on my own is no fun. I prefer the chase.” He grins again, and I laugh in exasperation.
“Will you quit it? You know I’m engaged, I’ve already turned you down—”
“Twice,” he interjects, not at all bothered.
“So can’t you get the hint?” I finish, feeling off-balance.
“That depends on which hint you’re talking about.” Jase’s eyes rove lazily over my body, and I thank God I’m wearing a thick knit sweater today, so he can’t see the skin prickling over my arms, or the ache of my nipples tightening in response.
“How about the one where I tell you this is never going to happen,” I tell him, sounding firmer than I feel. “I don’t cheat. Ever.”
Except in my imagination.
I push past him and head for the register, but when the guy behind the counter finishes ringing me up, Jase is standing right there. I brace myself for more wicked flirtation, but instead, he gives me an open, honest smile.
“Truce?” he asks, holding out his hand. “I didn’t mean to push you, you’re just cute when you get all hot under the collar.”
I take a deep breath. His expression seems sincere. “Truce,” I agree, shaking his hand.
His touch is hot, and his hand is large, closing around mine. He towers over me, dwarfing me with his solid physique, and when I look up, our eyes catch. I feel another rush of heat surge through me.
I snatch my hand away.
“Fancy grabbing a bite?” he asks casually, falling into step beside me as I exit the store.
“I just ate.”
“A coffee then,” Jase says. “I actually came to talk for a reason. I need your help.”
“With what?” I look at him suspiciously. For all his apologies and talk of truces, he’s still dangerously sexy.
“Real estate. That’s your department, isn’t it? I’m looking for a place, figured you could help me get the lay of the land.”
I pause. I can’t pretend I don’t need new clients, but still, Jase might be more trouble than the commission’s worth.
“I’ll be on my best behavior,” he adds with a playful grin. “Scout’s honor.”
“You were a boy scout?” I ask, dubious.
He laughs. “Nah, I just sold sweets at a mark-up outside the local meetings. Made myself a pretty penny. Good times.”
I find myself smiling, despite myself. “OK, a coffee. But business only. The minute you start doing . . . anything else, I’m out of there.”
“Fair enough.” Jase doesn’t seem concerned. He steers me across the street to a Starbucks, and soon, I’m settled in by a table in the window waiting for him to get our drinks. I still don’t know if I trust his new innocent act, but I’m curious to find out more about him—and what kind of home he’s looking for.
A couple of teenage girls beside me break out in fevered whispers. I follow their glances across the café to where Jase is at the counter, looking like a Greek God with his sweatpants hanging perfectly over the taut line of his ass. No wonder the girls are getting riled up. Every other guy in here looks puny and feeble in comparison to his muscular frame.
Sweaty . . . brazen . . . hot.
I gulp. It’s all perfectly innocent, I tell myself: I’m in broad daylight, a public place, having a business meeting, that’s all.
Jase rejoins me, with his coffee and my hot chocolate, piled with whipped cream and marshmallows. He folds his long limbs into a chair then watches with amusement as I take a sip.
“What?” I ask, self-conscious.
“You can tell a lot about a woman by what she drinks,” Jase says.
I keep drinking. “Aren’t you going to ask me what that says about you?” Jase finally asks.
I smile. “I don’t need to. You just love telling me what you think you know about me.”
He laughs, a loud belly-laugh of surprise. “Touché.” Jase reaches over and scoops some cream off my drink with his finger. He licks it off, and my gaze zooms straight to his mouth.
Oh my.
Jase arches an eyebrow, and I quickly look away, flustered. “So, tell me about what kind of place you’re looking for,” I say, wanting to get back on solid ground. “What kind of business are you in?”
“I’m in . . . research and information,” he replies.
I’m surprised. I would have thought a guy like Jase would do something more . . . dangerous. “Do you want something like that loft you looked at, or are you open to something different?”
“I’m not sure. I guess I’ll know it when I see it,” Jase says.
“Condo? House? Cabin in the woods?” I press, trying to narrow him down.
He just shrugs. “I follow my instincts. You know, when something just feels right, and you can’t explain why.”
His gaze locks on mine, and suddenly, the bustling café seems to disappear. I can hear my heart pounding, feel my skin prickle again. He parts his lips to speak, and suddenly, they’re all I can think about.
Claiming my mouth. Kissing my skin. Parting my legs and—
I force myself to look away. How does this guy take me from zero to turned on in two seconds flat? I take a long gulp of hot chocolate to distract myself—and burn my tongue on the hot liquid.
“Ouch!”
“Here.” Jase passes me a bottle of water, and I gratefully gulp it down. “You should be more careful,” he adds, a playful smile tugging on his lips. “Or, maybe you’re too careful. Is that it, Chloe? You like to play it safe?”
“Budget!” I blurt, grasping for the point of all this. “What kind of range are you working with?”
Jase shrugs again. “I’m open. For the right place, I could go to two, maybe three million.”
My mouth drops open. “Dollars?” I exclaim.
He grins. “No, pesos. Of course, dollars.”
“I’m sorry.” I try to collect myself. I shouldn’t be losing my cool with a prospective buyer like this, but high-end clients don’t come by Fortune & Adler often—they pick the flashy, big firms to do their business. “That budget should . . . give you a lot of flexibility.”
“Good.” Jase nods. “How about you put together some properties, and we go take a look. This week?”
I make a note. “That should be fine.” I can’t wait to see Marcie’s face when I tell her I have a new client. But still, I can’t help pausing to check. “Are you sure you want me as your broker? I’m just a junior agent, and there are tons of people with more contacts and experience than me.”
Jase looks puzzled. “You don’t want my business?”
“No, of course I do!” I protest. “I just don’t want to disappoint you, that’s all.”
He stares at me a moment with an expression I’ve never seen before. “You could never be a disappointment, Chloe,” he says softly.
Something clenches in my chest. I look away. These days, it feels like all I do is let people down. Max, his family, my boss . . .
“Hey.” When I look up, Jase is still watching me. “Are you OK?”
“Sure. Great.” I exclaim brightly, “I have a wedding to plan, and a big new client. Why would anything be wrong?”
I leap to my feet before he can answer. “I should get going, start lining up some properties for you to see. I’ll give you a call tomorrow, OK?”
“Alright, that sounds good—”
I don’t wait around for Jase to finish. I grab my stuff and bolt for the door. I let my guard down just now, and I feel off-balance, like the grou
nd just got snatched away.
As I’m walking fast down the street, my head spinning, I feel my phone buzz with a text. It’s Max.
Missing you, beautiful.
I grip my phone tightly. This is what I should be holding onto—the fresh start with him, this life I’ve been working so hard to build.
So why does it feel like Jase sees the real me? Not just the girl I’m trying to be for Max—working so hard to live up to his standards and expectations. But me, Chloe, full of doubt and insecurity, and all my sharp edges.
Jase looks at me like I’m perfect. And with one simple sentence, he just told me everything my heart has been longing to hear.
“You could never be a disappointment.”
I feel a pang of confusion. I’m playing with fire every moment I spend with Jase, but I can’t afford to take this risk. I’ve thrown away everything on blind lust before, and look where it left me: so broken, I didn’t think I could ever fit the broken pieces back together again.
No, Jase is just an illusion. Max is the one who’s for real.
I won’t screw my heart up again.
9.
JASE
Chloe’s not a gold-digger. She couldn’t care less about the cash. So that means she must really be in love him.
I would laugh at the irony if it wasn’t the mother of all cock-blocks. The one honest woman I meet, and she’s in love with someone else.
Monday morning can’t come fast enough. I type up my notes into a report about Chloe, click send to the client, and it’s done. Usually, I pride myself on hunting down the truth like a rabid dog, but fuck it, I’m taking a pass on this one. Never mind about whatever secrets she’s hiding in her past: those are going to stay hidden. I need her off my plate forever, so I can get back to life as usual: busting liars, cashing checks, and fucking like there’s no tomorrow.
I don’t have to spend another moment thinking about those soulful brown eyes.
I won’t ever have to wonder what secrets she’s hiding, the past she’s been running from.
And I sure as hell won’t have to wake up with the ultimate hard-on, forced to wank one out in the shower as I imagine her bent over on all fours, just to get the stiff ache out of my cock.
Even that climax wasn’t enough. I’m still in a foul mood, wound so tight I’m liable to snap. God help the men who decide to spar with me in the ring after work, because they’ve got a world of pain coming. And God help the woman I pick up after, because I’m going to pound her into the goddamn mattress tonight.
*
I’ve only been at work a couple of hours when the bell over the main door sounds. “Who is it?” I call, thrown. This address is invite only, and I’ve got nothing on the books. I’m about to get up when my office door swings open and Maxwell Mainwaring comes striding in.
“Her background is clear, no criminal records or other liabilities,” he reads from my report. “What the fuck is this?”
I stare. What the hell? “You’re the one who hired me?”
I figured it was one of the Mainwarings, checking that Chloe was good enough to join their ranks. But all this time, her fiancé was the one snooping into her past?
Some PI I am, I couldn’t see the truth when it was right in front of me.
“Of course it’s me, who else would want Chloe investigated?” Max looks surprised. “Although I should have saved myself the cash. You got me nothing.”
Now I’m even more glad I didn’t go digging. “You hired me to investigate,” I say coolly. “I did. There’s the result.”
“This is bullshit.” Max throws the pages down on my desk like a kid having a temper tantrum.
“What’s the problem?” I ask, my temper rising. “You’re in the clear. No bombs about to go off and damage the Mainwaring name. That’s what you were worried about, right?”
Max looks blank. “What? No. I need something real, some kind of excuse to break things off before the wedding!”
Break it off? I can’t believe this scumbag. He has Chloe wrapped around his little finger, and he’s planning to kick her to the curb. She doesn’t deserve this. Fuck, she’ll be devastated.
I shouldn’t care, but for some reason, I see red.
“Why do you need an excuse?” I ask, clenching my fists under the desk. “Just tell her it’s not working out. You’ll be doing both of you a favor.”
Max looks impatient. “If I break it off, she gets to keep the ring. That thing’s been in my family for generations. Do you know how much it’s worth?”
More than Chloe to him, clearly.
“Not my problem,” I tell him, done with this idiot. “Hell, if you ask nicely, I bet she’d give it back. Like I said in my report, she’s not after your money.”
“Every bitch in town is after my money,” Max sneers, and I want to smash my fist right in that pretty-boy face of his.
“Are you done?” I ask, getting to my feet. “You can write me that final check now—”
My office line rings, then clicks to voicemail. Suddenly, Chloe’s voice echoes in the small office.
“Jase? Hi, it’s Chloe. Chloe Archer. I, umm, I’m calling because I have some places to show you—”
“Pick up,” Max demands.
“What?”
“Pick up and talk to her. On speaker. You’re still on retainer, remember?”
I’ve half a mind to throw him out, but then I pause. I should just announce to Chloe right now what Max has been up to, to hell with him and his check. Yeah, that would wipe the smirk off his face.
“Hey,” I pick up, and hit the speaker too, so Max can listen in.
“Jase! Sorry, I thought I got your machine.”
“No, it’s good.” I glance across the desk at Max. I could tell her the truth right now, but then I think about the hurt look in her eyes, and how I’d be ripping her life apart.
Fuck.
I swing my chair away from him. “Listen, I wanted to tell you I won’t be needing to look at apartments anymore. I’ve decided to stay where I am.”
“Oh.” I can hear the disappointment in her voice. “Oh, that’s OK.”
“At least you won’t have to deal with another picky client.” I try to let her down gently.
She laughs. “Believe me, you’ll be a breeze compared to some of the people we have here.”
“I don’t know about that. I can be very demanding.”
I can’t help myself. Just imagining her mouth inches from her phone turns me on, even stuck in the office here with her fiancé hanging on her every word.
Soon to be ex-fiancé.
My dick perks up at the thought even before my brain connects the dots.
Once Chloe’s free of this engagement, there’ll be nothing holding her back. Nothing stopping me from holding her down, on her back. Thrusting in deep and slow, the way she’ll be begging me. Fucking her so right, she’ll forget any other man ever existed.
Yeah. The sooner she’s done with him, the sooner I can show her what a real man feels like.
All eight inches of him.
“Well, thanks for letting me know,” Chloe says. “Good luck, I guess.”
“Maybe I’ll see you around,” I can’t help adding. “In the bookstore, or your local knitting circle.”
“I don’t knit!” she laughs.
“Isn’t that the kind of stuff you Jane Austen girls like?” I tease. “Playing the piano and doing your embroidery.”
“While we sit around and wait for a gentleman caller?” She snorts. “I prefer to take life into my own hands.”
“You can take me into your hands any time you like.”
She laughs again, not so flustered by my filthy mouth anymore. “I think you can take care of yourself. Goodbye, Jase.”
It’s not until the dial tone comes that I remember I’m in my office—and Max has been listening to every word.
“You can write me that final check now,” I tell him, ready to wrap this up for good.
But he just
shakes his head, a weird grin on his face. “Change of plans. You’re not done with this job yet.”
“There is no job,” I spit back. “I investigated, wrote your report, now you need to get the hell out of my office. I’ve got plans.”
Like seducing your soon-to-be-ex-fiancée.
“She likes you.” Max says it slowly, like he’s plotting something.
“I’m a likeable guy.”
“No, I mean, she wants you. I could hear it in her voice.” Max actually seems happy about it. “This is perfect. If she fucks you, I can call off the engagement and get the ring back, no questions asked.”
“You’re forgetting one important detail.” I scowl at him. “She would never cheat on you.”
Max snorts. “You can take care of that, I’m sure.”
“Could, but won’t.” I get up, and go to the door. “Unlike you, Chloe has some decency. She’s not a cheater, and I’m not about to help you drag her down to your level.”
Max rolls his eyes. “You’re forgetting who’s the boss here.”
“Am I?” I take a step towards him, my voice menacingly low. I’ve got at least six inches, forty pounds, and a lifetime in the boxing ring on him. Suddenly Max doesn’t look so cocky anymore.
He clears his throat fast. “I just meant, I’m sure we could come to some arrangement. Fifty thousand extra? A hundred?”
Is this guy for real? He wants to pay me a hundred grand to fuck his fiancée. And I thought I’d seen everything.
But I’m not a whore, and I’m sure as hell not going to hurt Chloe like this.
“Not interested,” I tell him shortly, and put a hand on his arm to steer him to the door.
Max flinches like I just decked him one. Pussy. “OK, OK, two hundred thousand,” He says eagerly.
I pause. “Half up front, no guarantees.”
“But . . . but . . .” Max splutters. “How am I supposed to trust you? You could take my money and run.”
Smart boy. That’s exactly what I’m planning to do. There’s no way I’m getting tangled in his plan to hurt Chloe, but if the man wants to give me a hundred thousand dollars for something I’ll do for free, I’m not standing in his way.