by Metsy Hingle
He moved slowly, slipping his hands around her waist and pulling her to fit against him. “I’m talking about this,” he murmured before settling his mouth against hers.
He kissed her leisurely, as though he wanted to explore and savor every angle of her mouth. Her pulse tap-danced as his tongue slipped between her lips and mated with her own. He tasted like danger—dark and wild and forbidden. And sent desire speeding through her like a lightning bolt.
She clutched at his shoulders, curling her fists in his jacket. He inched his fingers up along her waist, her sides, beneath the curve of her breasts. Madeline’s heart pounded. When he brushed his thumbs across her nipples, her breath snagged in her throat and she whimpered.
“Lord, I want you,” he said against her mouth in a voice husky with arousal. “Where’s your bedroom?”
“No,” she said, pressing her palms against his shoulders before he could kiss her again. She wondered where she had found the strength to stop, when she wanted so much more.
“We want each other. It’s not going to go away just because you’re afraid.”
“I’m not afraid,” she countered, hiking her chin up a notch.
He caught her trembling fingers and brought them to his lips. He kissed them. “Aren’t you? You’ve been running scared since the first time I kissed you.”
Madeline sighed. She hated the fact that he was right. “It would be foolish of me not to admit that I’m attracted to you when obviously I am. And while I’m sure that sex with you would be a…a momentous experience, I don’t indulge in casual sex, Chase.”
“I didn’t think you did. For the record, neither do I. So what’s the problem?”
“The problem is you’ll be gone in a few months.”
“All the more reason we shouldn’t waste time now.” He started to tug her closer.
“No.” Madeline pulled her hands free and moved away from him, needing space and distance to clear her head. “I can’t think clearly when you’re touching me.”
He gave her that wicked smile.
“Wipe that grin off your face, McAllister.”
“Sorry.” But he didn’t look the least bit sorry. “How about if I kiss you again and see if that helps you make up your mind.”
She glared at him. Oh, the rat was enjoying this. “Here.” She held out the keys to her car. “How about you take yourself on back to the hotel now, and I’ll let you know if I change my mind.”
He hesitated for long moments, then reached for the keys, tugging her hand and pulling her to him. He kissed her again, long and thoroughly, stoking the fires, making her cling to him as her knees turned to jelly.
When he lifted his head, he whispered, “Oh, you’ll change your mind, Princess. Count on it. In the meantime, I’m going to see to it that you have a lot more trouble thinking clearly.”
Six
Madeline stepped off the elevator. Her heels sank in the plush carpet as she walked determinedly down the corridor leading to the suite of executive offices. It had been more than a week since Chase had accompanied her to the Preservationist Society’s gala. After kissing her senseless and boldly declaring he wanted to make love to her, he had jetted off to Majestic’s corporate offices back East, leaving her heart and her body a war of muddled emotions. She knew from her father’s grumblings and the hotel grapevine that he had returned two nights ago, but as yet she hadn’t seen him.
The old adage “Out of sight, out of mind” was definitely not true, Madeline decided. Because she had thought of little else but Chase since he had left her cottage. Even her father’s continual complaints about Chase and rejoicing at his absence had done little to dim the tug of desire his kisses had set off inside her.
And she was no closer to a making a decision about him now than she had been a week ago. If anything, she was even more confused. Recalling the touch of his hands, the taste of his mouth, a shiver ran through her and Madeline quickened her pace. It was chemistry, sex, she told herself. She sighed. No matter how she defined it, she wanted him. There was no getting around it. She knew all the reasons not to become involved with him. She had gone over them in her head a hundred times already. A man like Chase knew the effect he had on women. He probably changed lovers the way other men changed their socks. A relationship with him would have no future. He was only here temporarily.
Then why was she seriously considering going to bed with him? Pausing outside the door leading to the suite of executive offices, Madeline dragged her fingers through her hair. Did he expect an answer to his offer that they have an affair? Was that the reason he had sent for her? And if he took her in his arms, kissed her and asked her again, would she have the strength to say no?
Bracing herself, Madeline opened the door with unsteady fingers. She scanned the room for his secretary. Grateful to find it empty, she sank down on the chair and drew a deep breath while she tried to clear her jumbled thoughts.
What was the matter with her? An affair with Chase was out of the question. She couldn’t do it, had been crazy to even consider it. Granted, she was attracted to him. Despite her efforts not to, she liked him, probably more than she should. But that was no reason to hop into bed with the man. Besides, an affair would only complicate things, and she didn’t need or want any more complications in her life. Her answer was no. It had to be.
Agitated, Madeline stood. She squared her shoulders. She would simply tell Chase “Thanks but no thanks.” No doubt he would give up on her and move on to more willing game. The thought brought a swift pang to her chest, but Madeline shoved it aside and started for his office. Finding the door ajar, she raised her hand to knock, but paused at the sound of a woman’s sobbing. She started to retreat, then stopped.
“Oh, Mr. Chase, I don’t know what to say,” the woman managed between sobs.
“Don’t say anything, Ruthie. You just take this and go on home and get some rest. Spend some time with your family. And I don’t want to see you back here until the doctor says you’re well.”
Ruthie Boudreaux. Madeline recognized the voice of one of the hotel’s waitresses. Although only in her late thirties, Ruthie looked older than her years. With five children at home and a husband out of work, Madeline had suspected she was having a rough time financially when she had asked to work extra shifts. She had even worried that the woman was running herself down. But when she had tried suggesting that Ruthie slow down, the other woman had insisted she was fine and pleaded that her extra shifts not be cut. Madeline’s father had instructed her not to interfere when she had confided her concerns.
Evidently Chase had decided to interfere.
“But this is your personal check. I can’t take money from you, Mr. Chase. I can’t accept charity. My Albert may not have a job right now, but he’s a proud man.”
“I know and please, it’s not charity. It…I would consider it a favor to me if you would accept it, Ruthie.” He paused. “You see, my mother was a waitress, too. She worked hard just like you do and she really liked her job. But I remember times when she wasn’t feeling well, or I would come down with a bug and want her to stay home with me. Only, she couldn’t for the same reason you didn’t. Because getting paid for the sick day wasn’t enough. She needed the tips, too. I wasn’t able to help my mother then, and she’s dead now so there’s nothing I can do for her. So, please,” he said, his voice husky. “Allow me to help you the way I wanted to help her.”
Madeline’s throat grew dry, and she swallowed hard against the thickness of tears.
“Seeing’s how you put it like that. All right. I’ll take it. But still it just don’t seem right. I mean it being your personal check and all.”
“It’s right if I say it is. Haven’t you heard? I’m the boss around here.”
The other woman chuckled, but the laughter faded as she said, “You’re a good man, Mr. Chase. I don’t know how I’ll pay you back, but I will somehow. I promise. As soon as my Albert finds himself another job.”
“Don’t worry about pa
ying me back. Consider it a bonus for sneaking me all those extra blueberry muffins. Now you go home and get yourself well. Those children need you, and the hotel needs you—but not before you’re ready to come back.”
Blinking back tears, Madeline moved away from the door. She didn’t want to embarrass Ruthie by letting her know that she had overheard her conversation with Chase. And she didn’t want to face Chase right now—not when her heart was feeling so full. She would come back later, she told herself, when she was feeling less emotional. But as she started to leave, the door to the suite opened.
“Mr. McAllister wants files set up for each of the equipment contracts,” Chase’s secretary told the clerk who followed her into the executive offices. Spotting Madeline, she smiled. “Hi, Madeline. Does Chase know you’re here?”
“No,” Madeline managed to respond. “I just got here a few minutes ago. And I think he has someone with him.”
“Well, he shouldn’t be much longer. Let me get Susie started on these files, and then I’ll buzz through and tell him you’re here.”
“Take your time,” Madeline told her as the other woman gathered stacks of folders and papers and led Susie into an adjoining office.
When she was alone once more, Madeline walked over to the window and looked down over the busy street. A lone streetcar lumbered down the center of the avenue along metal tracks that had worn well with age. Cars flanked the trolley on both sides, zipping up and down the paved street. Madeline stared out at the symbols of past and present, but her thoughts were on the man in the other room.
Darn you, Chase McAllister. Things would have been so much simpler if you had kept on being the jerk I’d thought you were. Why did you have to be such a nice guy to Ruthie? Why did you have to make me care about you?
“Thanks again, Mr. Chase.”
Madeline swiped at the corner of her eyes as she heard Ruthie exiting Chase’s office.
“Don’t forget. You have Albert come see me. The hotel always needs somebody who knows a thing or two about old equipment. That temperamental boiler’s cost me more than one good dress shirt.”
Madeline somehow managed to acknowledge Ruthie, and once the woman was gone, she went in. Chase stood at the center of the room in slate-colored slacks and white dress shirt. For once his tie was in place, even if his jacket was missing. He smiled at her, warmth and welcome in his eyes. All her determination to keep her distance, to end things between them before they got started, crumbled like the dust from a piece of pottery left too long in the sun. She went to him, cupped his face in her hands and kissed him gently on the mouth. “Thank you,” she whispered.
Sliding his arms around her waist, Chase nuzzled her neck. “Not that I’m complaining, but if you tell me exactly what is it I’m being thanked for, I’ll try to do it again.”
She heard the smile in his voice, and it fed the warmth in her heart. “For being kind and generous. For caring about Ruthie and her family.”
He stopped the nuzzling and drew back to look at her. “Eavesdropping, Princess? You?”
“Yes,” Madeline admitted, seeing no point in lying. “I didn’t mean to, and I know I shouldn’t have, but I did.”
He favored her with that cocky grin that she had begun to. grow fond of. “Imagine that. A proper Southern lady like yourself listening at keyholes.”
“Not at keyholes, McAllister. You left your door open.” But Madeline couldn’t help herself, she grinned at the laughter in his eyes.
Suddenly his lighthearted expression grew sober. “Lord, you look good. Even better than I remembered. And yousmell good, too.” He pulled her against him; his fingers slid into her hair and caressed her scalp. “Like roses and rain and hot sex on a moonlit beach.”
Madeline’s pulse stammered at the images his words evoked. Heat sliced through her, like that first and only shot of straight whiskey she’d sampled in her teens, burning a path straight to her core.
The sound of voices drifted to her and Madeline heard footsteps approaching. “Come on,” Chase commanded, his voice a husky growl as he grabbed her hand and pulled her into his office. He shut the door and reached for her. “How about if I let you thank me again.”
“No, don’t.” Madeline held up her hands to keep him at bay. “Please, Chase. Don’t touch me. I told you I can’t think when you’re touching me.” She hated the breathless tone of her voice almost as much as she hated making the admission.
“Princess, if that’s supposed to discourage me, it isn’t working.” He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, allowing his fingers to linger against her skin. Madeline’s pulse stammered, and he gave her that infuriating smile again. “I like knowing I can scramble your brain.”
She batted his hand away. “Well, I don’t.” She moved into the center of the office and out of his reach, keenly aware of those blue eyes of his tracking her progress.
“So where does that leave us?”
“I don’t know,” she admitted. “My feelings haven’t changed, Chase. I want you. It scares me just how much I do want you. But you’re moving too fast for me. I’m not used to this sort of thing. I can’t just hop into bed with you because you turn me on.”
“If it’s what we both want, why not?”
Was the man being deliberately obtuse? “Because there are other things that need to be taken into consideration.”
“Like what?”
“Like the fact that we have to work together and how a personal relationship between us might affect the hotel. And then there’s my father. He—”
“Leave your father and the hotel out of this, Madeline. What’s between us has nothing to do with them,” he said, his voice hard, his eyes even harder. “This has to do with you and me. It has to do with sex. My wanting you and you wanting me.” He shoved his hand through his hair. When he looked at her again, the darkness had dissolved. “Listen, you said I was moving too fast. Are you telling me you need more time? Is that it?”
“Yes. No. Maybe.”
Grinning at her reply, Chase crossed the room and slipped his arms around her. “Want me to help you make up your mind?”
“You’re scrambling my brain again, McAllister.” She let out a long breath and allowed herself the pleasure of his embrace. “I told myself I was going to tell you to forget it. I wouldn’t have an affair with you.”
He stroked her back, sending tingles of pleasure and anticipation down her spine. “And now?”
“Now I’m not sure.”
“All right.”
“All right?” she repeated, confused by his response and a shade fearful that he had decided to move on to more willing game, just as she had predicted.
“I’ll turn the heat down a notch and give you time to get used to the idea.”
Madeline pulled back a fraction so she could see his face. “You make it sound like our becoming lovers is a given.”
“It is as far as I’m concerned. But I’m willing to do some backpedaling until you get comfortable with the idea.”
“That ego of yours is showing again, McAllister.”
“It’s a curse,” he said, enjoying the sudden flash of fire in her green eyes.
“Well while you’re doing that backpedaling, I suggest that you get comfortable with the idea that my answer might still be no.”
He paused, giving consideration to that possibility. He didn’t like it. He had truly missed her this past week, and he wasn’t a man given to missing people or places. That had been another lesson he had learned at St. Mark’s. Never let yourself become attached to people. Never let yourself get too comfortable and think of a place as home. Because sooner or later if the people didn’t send you packing, the system would.
But he had missed Madeline, had chafed at being back in his own office in New Jersey. There was no other explanation for the way his thoughts had kept wandering to her. Thinking of how she managed to look both sexy and prim in her militant little suits. Of the way her eyes mirrored everything she was feeling. And judging
from the way she was staring at him now, she found his silence disconcerting. “Okay,” he said finally. “I’ll accept the fact that you might decide against us going to bed together, as long as you accept the fact that I’m going to do my best to get you there.”
She narrowed her eyes. “You said you’d back off and give me a chance to make up my mind.”
Moving in slowly, he smiled as she stepped back and her bottom connected with the mahogany desk. “I said I’d turn down the heat. Not turn it off. How about if we settle on simmer?” Not waiting for her answer, he brushed his lips across hers. He heard her soft gasp, felt the quick shudder run through her as he sought entrance to her mouth. Heat sliced through him at her response. Pulling her closer, he deepened the kiss.
Her tongue met his, teased and danced in a mating ritual that turned his blood to lava and made the ache in his loins grow even more painful. Fighting for control, Chase lifted his head and gulped in fresh air.
“If that’s your idea of simmer,” she whispered, her voice shaky, “I don’t want to see full boil.”
It pleased him to see her take a few deep breaths of her own. “Then I’ll try for simmer again,” he promised and started to lower his head.
“No.” She held up her hand. “Back off, McAllister, and give me some breathing room.”
Chase didn’t bother hiding his grin as he stepped away and allowed her to escape. Folding his arms, he leaned against the desk and waited while she smoothed her hair and the lines of her suit.
Her fingers stilled when she glanced up and realized he was watching her. “I should get back to work.”
“Wait.” Chase came away from the desk and followed her to the door. “I haven’t had a chance to talk to you yet, to tell you why I sent for you.”
Madeline hesitated.
“Come back and sit down.” He returned to his desk and dropped into his chair. “I promise this is strictly business. I want to tell you about the outcome of my meetings with the Majestic board.”
Madeline followed and took the seat across from him. She tilted her head and waited.