The Pursuit (Capitol Love Series Book 2)

by Samantha Powers

  She stuffed the oven mitts in a drawer and grabbed her phone off the counter. “I need to fire up my laptop and get all these ideas down while they’re fresh. I’ll join you for cupcakes later!”

  In between visits to Miss Ada, Rayne spent most of the weekend writing up her strategy for the fundraiser and trying to anticipate Jeremy’s questions. The only ones she couldn’t answer were how much the landlord would want for the house—if he could be talked into selling it to CACC—and that meant she didn’t know how much money they should aim to raise. She experimented with various dollar amounts until she was satisfied that she could address any concern Jeremy threw at her.

  First thing Monday morning, she walked into his office and made her pitch. He listened thoughtfully, and when she was finished, he said, “You’ve done some excellent work. You’ve really thought this through.”

  She smiled, enjoying the praise and relieved that he’d let her go through her whole presentation despite the weary, skeptical look he’d given her when she walked in.

  “The only hitch, of course,” he said, “is getting Vincent to agree to sell to us. And that could be a big hitch.”

  Her heart started to sink. It sounded like he was saying no.

  Jeremy gazed at the far corner of the room, idly drumming his fingertips on the desk. “I think the place to start would be getting the house appraised. Then I’ll have Larry look into potential tax breaks for Vincent if he sells to a nonprofit—and the tax breaks for us, of course.” As he talked, he pulled a notepad from the desk drawer. Rayne watched him carefully, barely able to breathe.

  “As you said, we can’t raise enough to buy it outright,” he continued, “but perhaps a ten percent down payment could be our goal.”

  “So that’s a yes?” Rayne asked.

  He glanced up and smiled. “Yes, it’s a yes. But we’re not out of the woods yet. It’s going to take a lot of work to pull this off.”

  “I know a great caterer who will probably give us a good deal,” she said, knowing without a doubt that Colin would be on board. “And I was thinking we should have the event here. It would save us the cost of renting a place, and it makes sense for people to see the house they’re saving.”

  “Brilliant!” He jotted down some more notes. “Give me time to do some brainstorming of my own and then let’s bring the rest of the staff in on this and talk about it in more detail.”

  She nodded and got up to leave.

  “And Rayne? Thank you for not letting me give up so easily.”

  He smiled that dazzling smile of his, and her knees went a little wobbly and she knew she was blushing like a schoolgirl. “Of course,” she said with a smile and headed for the door.

  “The photographer you mentioned—what was his name?” Jeremy asked.

  She turned back to face him. “Chase Allison.”

  “Allison,” he said, tapping his pencil on the pad. “I met a Beatrice Allison at a party awhile back. Charming woman, well connected. Family owns half the restaurants in town. Any relation?”

  “Chase is her son,” Rayne said. “His brother Colin is the guy I was thinking of asking to cater the event.”

  “She’d be a good woman to have in our corner. Nice work, Rayne. Email me a copy of your notes. And send Sheila in on your way out.”

  “Sure thing,” Rayne said.

  She found Sheila standing near the door. On the way in, Rayne had told her she wanted to talk to Jeremy about an idea to save the organization.

  “Well?” Sheila asked anxiously.

  Rayne gave her a big hug. “He wants to see you. And I bet you will look absolutely gorgeous in an evening gown!”

  Sheila stared at her open-mouthed, but Rayne just smiled and flew up the stairs to her office.

  Two days later, she was sitting at her desk munching on a salad as she tried to replicate the spreadsheet Savannah had created for her foundation’s big donor event a few months ago. Rayne and Jeremy had decided to have CACC’s gala on a Saturday six weeks away. It made for a tight schedule, but they needed to be sure they could raise enough money before the lease ran out at the end of November.

  Once they committed to the fundraiser, Jeremy had told all the employees what was going on and everyone got an assignment, though Rayne was still in charge of the event, and happily so. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt so energized, so focused.

  She had talked to Colin that morning, and he had generously agreed to donate the food and charge them a reduced rate for the catering services. Next on her list was getting in touch with Chase about the artwork. But she didn’t have his number. She picked up her phone to call Colin and ask for it and was startled when the phone beeped in her hand. She glanced at the number of the person texting her but didn’t recognize it.

  The message said: So are we on for saving the planet?

  She smiled. Had to be Chase. She took a moment to jot down the number in a little notebook she’d started carrying around in case she ever lost her phone again. She didn’t like feeling out of touch and especially hated that she hadn’t known Miss Ada was in trouble.

  Rayne texted back: Yes! Got the ok from the boss. All systems are go!

  Congrats!

  Working like a fiend. Event is Oct 10!

  We should have a planning meeting. I’ve got a list of photographers and online portfolios to show you. Sunday? Your place?

  She was surprised—and a little thrilled—that he’d already gone to all that work without knowing whether the event would even happen. She was starting to think his reputation as a flake was unjustified.

  She texted back: You rock!! 1:00?

  Sure. Got any of that lasagna left?

  Ha! It’s long gone, but I can throw something together if we get hungry.

  She was humming an aimless little tune as she put her phone away and went back to work. She was excited but didn’t have that nervous, jittery feeling she usually got around men she was attracted to, which she took as a sign that her new grown-up approach was working.

  On Sunday, Rayne tidied up the living room and cleared off the kitchen table. She’d debated cooking some sort of meal but wanted to keep things casual and didn’t know how long he’d be staying anyway. She finally decided to have ingredients on hand to make sandwiches if the need arose.

  Thunderstorms had rolled through the day before and broken the heat wave. The day was warm but comfortably so, and she was barefoot, wearing jeans and a sleeveless cotton blouse. She had purposely avoided fussing over her appearance. This wasn’t a date after all—Chase was a colleague and a friend—but at the last minute, she couldn’t resist dabbing on her favorite lily-of-the-valley perfume.

  Chase showed up right at 1:00 with a laptop bag slung over his shoulder and a six-pack of Blue Moon beer in his hand.

  “I figured we might get thirsty,” he said as she opened the door.

  “Great thinking.” She started to lead him to the kitchen, but he motioned to the coffee table in the living room.

  “Let’s do it here. The light’s better—too much glare in the kitchen.”

  She cleared a stack of magazines off the coffee table and tried not to think about what it would be like to sit beside him on the couch. He set up his laptop while she took the beer into the kitchen. When she came back with two open bottles, she found him sitting on the floor with his back against the couch, scrolling through a website full of gorgeous photos of exotic places. As she handed him a beer, she felt a combination of relief and disappointment that he’d chosen the less cozy option of sitting on the floor.

  She slid down next to him, careful not to sit too close, and he turned the laptop a little so she could see the screen easier.

  “This is Roger Thaw’s website,” Chase said. “He would probably be the biggest name we could get. I met hi
m the other night when I went to the opening of his show at the National Geographic headquarters.” He took a swig of his beer. “I mentioned the auction to him, and he seemed interested. I just need to follow up with him.”

  In all the excitement, Rayne had forgotten about Chase’s date with Crystal. She gave herself a mental pat on the back for it. Then she studied Thaw’s photos—which were spectacular—and said, “Crystal mentioned something about getting tickets to that opening. It sounded pretty exclusive. Did you see her there?”

  She didn’t want to tell him she knew he’d gone with Crystal. It would imply that the two of them had been talking about him. And it might imply that Rayne cared who he went out with.

  Chase paused for a moment. “Yeah, I did.”

  It wasn’t the answer Rayne was expecting, and she was puzzled. But she decided to chalk his evasiveness up to a player’s natural tendency to cover his tracks. Besides, she couldn’t imagine doing this event without his help and contacts, and what he did with Crystal was none of her business.

  For the next hour they sat side by side looking at breathtaking photographs of the Solomon Islands, the Maldives, Bangladesh, and the Great Barrier Reef. And heartbreaking images of polar bears clinging to melting chunks of ice, villages in Alaska slowly sinking into the thawing permafrost, starving people in the deserts of Darfur, retreating glaciers all over the world.

  The beer was making Rayne feel fuzzy and relaxed, and the beautiful photos absorbed all her attention—until she leaned forward to see a detail Chase was pointing to. When her thigh pressed against his, the warmth of his body radiated through hers and ignited an explosion of desire that caused her to pull back as if she’d been shocked.

  “You OK?” Chase asked turning his blue eyes on her, which made it even harder for Rayne to catch her breath.

  “Yeah, I’m fine.” She scrambled to her feet to put some distance between them and knocked over her empty beer bottle. She snatched it up before she could kick it across the floor, but the sudden movement made her feel lightheaded.

  “You look a little flushed,” Chase said. “You sure you’re feeling OK?”

  “It’s just the beer,” she said, taking a step backward toward the kitchen. “I’m thinking maybe I should have a bite to eat. Are you hungry?”

  “I never say no to food,” Chase said with a smile, “especially when it’s not coming out of an industrial kitchen.” He got to his feet and followed her into the kitchen.

  “I can fix us some sandwiches,” Rayne said as she opened the fridge. While she gathered the ingredients, she took the opportunity to remind herself that she was being a grown-up about all this.

  She turned from the fridge with her arms full, and before she could protest, Chase took some of the things from her.

  “Let me help,” he said. “I’ll let you do the hard work, though, because I’m really only skilled at peanut butter and jelly.”

  She laughed, finally starting to relax again. “Grab a couple plates out of that cupboard,” she said, and when he did, she put slices of fresh ciabatta bread on each plate and layered organic chicken, avocado, lettuce, and tomato on top. Chase leaned a hip against the counter and watched her.

  “Mustard or mayo?” she asked.

  “Both,” he said.

  She added both to each sandwich, and he took two more beers out of the fridge.

  “I was thinking we could eat on the porch and get some fresh air,” he said, already moving toward the front door.

  Rayne followed him out onto the porch. Chase took a bite of his sandwich and as soon as he’d chewed and swallowed said, “This is delicious. It might be the tastiest sandwich I’ve ever eaten.”

  Rayne laughed, pleased. “God, I hope that’s not true! Your family runs the best restaurants in the city.”

  “Yeah, but they can’t compete with fresh homemade food.”

  “I know what you mean,” Rayne said. “I don’t cook for myself so much, but it’s fun to cook for—and with—other people. There’s something very...communal about it. It makes me feel connected.”

  “And you like taking care of people,” he said, half-statement, half-question.

  “I guess so,” she said, a little embarrassed because she’d just made him lunch and what did that say about her feelings?

  As they ate and drank, they chatted about various details of the event. Then they watched the people coming and going from Eastern Market. She was thinking about India and how alive the streets always seemed, full of people and colors and the smells of cooking. Funny, she hadn’t thought about that trip in years, not until she’d mentioned it to Chase.

  “Reminds me of India,” Chase said.

  Rayne was startled—had he read her mind? “I was thinking the same thing.”

  He turned to look at her. “Great minds and all that,” he said with a soft smile that only added to the intense connection she was feeling. She could get lost in him, and for a brief moment, she couldn’t remember if she was in India or D.C. Then she reluctantly reminded herself that this is what he did, that the best players knew how to be at least a little genuine.

  She cleared her throat, trying to get herself refocused on the task at hand. “There are so many amazing photographers, I don’t know how we’ll choose which images to use.”

  Chase’s gaze lingered on her, then he took a swig of his beer. “I was thinking we should aim for a mix of beautiful animals and landscapes and some of the more alarming images that show the effects of climate change,” he said. “That way we can create a sense of urgency without making everyone feel totally hopeless.”

  She was impressed again by his insightfulness. “I think that’s the perfect approach. Mixing paintings and photographs would help balance the mood, too.”

  He nodded and cleared his throat. “We should probably get back to it,” he said.

  They went inside, and Rayne dumped the plates in the sink then joined Chase in the living room. He’d resumed his position on the floor.

  “I saved my portfolio for last,” he said.

  When she saw his photos, Rayne said a soft “Wow!” that made him smile. “These are gorgeous.”

  Then she was pointing and asking “Where’s this?” and “How did you get this shot?” and “When was this taken?” Among the photos, she recognized a place her parents had taken her—Brindavan Gardens in India. “I’ve been there! I remember those mango and avocado trees, and the allamanda in bloom. I loved those pretty yellow flowers. They have a sort of light fruity smell. I kept sticking my nose in them. You’ve really captured it. Well, except for the smell.”

  He laughed. “I haven’t figured out how to capture smells in photography. Which is probably just as well. I’m assuming your parents took you to Agra to see the Taj Mahal?”

  She nodded. “What tourist could resist?”

  “Then I’m sure you remember the smell of garbage and sewage.”

  She wrinkled her nose. “How could I forget!”

  He finished his beer and took her empty bottle from her hand and headed to the kitchen. “So when’s the last time you were overseas?” he asked as he popped open the last two beers.

  She leaned her head back against the couch as she thought about it, feeling full and sleepy and relaxed. He came back with the beers and handed her one. His gaze strayed to her throat, and the look in his eyes sent a wave of heat through her body.

  “It’s been years,” she said. “I haven’t even gone beyond Maryland since I came to D.C. for college and then work.”

  “Where are your parents now?” he asked as he sat down beside her.

  “Vermont. They got a little farm there a couple years ago. It’s about the longest they’ve stayed anywhere.”

  He took a swig of his beer. “So you haven’t seen your parents in a couple years?”
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br />   “They’ve come down here to visit me once or twice, but I haven’t made it up that way yet. I’m sure I will eventually.”

  She was aware of him watching her, aware of the heat of his body next to hers. Aware that he only needed to lean forward a little if wanted to kiss her. Aware, too, that she was supposed to be avoiding such thoughts, but she couldn’t muster the energy to resist them.

  “All that moving around must have been tough on you as a kid,” he said.

  “Yeah, it wasn’t great.” She picked at the label on the beer bottle. “They wanted to live off the grid. They were all about self-sufficiency. Even communes were too structured for them, so we moved to communities—and I use that term loosely—that were tolerant of people who didn’t want traditional lifestyles.”

  She stretched out her legs, brushing against his thigh in the process. It wasn’t entirely accidental, and he didn’t move away. “I didn’t mind going to the schools in those areas because all the kids were in the same boat. But in other places, I was the only kid in town wearing handmade clothes, who brought hummus and bean sprout sandwiches on homemade bread for lunch. I used to bribe the other kids for potato chips and Twinkies when I could.”

  He smiled. “Somehow I can’t picture you eating chips and Twinkies.”

  “Hey, we all have our vices,” she said with a smile. “I kept wanting my parents to pick one of those places to stay—I didn’t even care which one. But we always seemed to move right when I was getting settled.”

  She took a long drink of her beer. “It would have been nice not to feel like an outsider all the time.”

  He was silent for a moment. “It certainly gives you a different perspective—being the stranger in town,” he said. “It works for me as a photographer.”