“That doesn’t mean it can’t be done.”
Well. Hell.
“Don’t look for something that’s not there,” he warned.
A few taps of her keyboard later, Pen said, “I’m looking at the blog and these photos are...well, they could be anything but now that we’ve talked I can see it.”
“See what?” He tightened the grip on his phone and stared out the window at the snowy lake below.
“How protective you are of Mimi. And the tender vulnerability in her that you’re trying to protect.”
He opened his mouth to protest but he couldn’t lie to Penelope, or himself, any longer.
“Have you told her how you feel?”
“I told her I’d never drag her into the world of politics and oil, yes.”
“Chase.”
“Penelope.”
She sighed, conceding this round. “Sometimes... headstrong women don’t do what’s best because we’re trying to make our hearts as firm as our minds. Sometimes we need to know what’s going on in your heads and hearts so that we can make the right decision.”
“Trust me, Pen. Where Mimi and I are concerned, the decisions that have been made are the right ones. Take care of this and there’s a bonus in it for you.”
“Oh goody,” she murmured, droll.
“I’ll buy Olivia a pony.”
Her laughter chimed, lightening the intensity between them. He could always count on the mention of Olivia to snap Pen out of work mode. An unfair tactic, sure, but necessary.
“I’m on it. And, Mr. Mayor?”
“Yes?”
“Don’t make the decision for her. Either way.”
He nodded even though she couldn’t see him, and then heard a soft click as she signed off.
He hadn’t decided anything for Mimi. She’d decided. She was the one who was trying to keep her distance. He was carrying out her wishes.
Wasn’t he?
Twenty
Miriam was torn between eating or drinking her feelings.
She opened the freezer and eyed a pint of salted caramel ice cream, then closed it and opened the fridge to consider the bottle of prosecco sitting on the top shelf. Prosecco was for celebrating, and she sure as hell didn’t feel like doing that, so ice cream it was.
Her phone flashed again—she’d turned off the ringer—and warily she peeked at the screen. “Unknown numbers” had been calling over the last couple of days. She’d ignored them thinking they were sales calls, but after the fifteenth one she’d begun to suspect they had to do with the current surge of blogs written about her and the mayor of Dallas.
Luckily, this number she recognized. Kristine.
“Kris, hi.” Miriam dug a spoon out of the drawer and tossed the lid of the ice cream container into the sink. No need for a bowl tonight. She was bottoming this baby out. “What’s new?”
“You mean besides multiple calls from strangers asking me about you and Chase?”
“Ugh. I’m sorry.” Heavily, Miriam sat on a kitchen chair.
“You warned me. I’m telling them nothing.”
“Thanks, Kris.” It’d been two days since Nancy had suggested Miriam take a leave of absence. Word had traveled fast—and not just to her fifteen-year-old admirer Darren. One of the heads of MCS was uncomfortable with the news breaking about her “affair with a mayor.” It was an ugly way to paint it, but technically it was true. Nancy worked out a paid leave, but to Miriam, being asked to leave still felt unfair.
“Are you okay otherwise?” Kris asked.
“Other than my phone ringing off the hook with questions about the mayor of Dallas?” She turned her head to the kitchen window. “At least there aren’t reporters camped out in my apartment complex.”
“It’ll blow over, I’m sure. When’s the election?”
“A year and a half from now,” Miriam announced glumly. Then she blinked when a blur of movement caught her eye. Chase was walking up the sidewalk, head down, collar on his dark coat pulled up. “I have to go. He’s here.”
“He’s there? Meems—”
“I’ll call you later.” She hung up, no time to talk about how she felt about Chase while he was rapidly approaching her doorway. She slid across her linoleum on slipper socks en route to the living room to check her reflection in the mirror above the couch.
She quickly arranged her hair and checked her teeth, but there wasn’t any time to change her clothes. He’d have to see her in a pair of gray leggings and an oversize blue sweatshirt.
The knock came and her eyes sank shut. This was it. And she really wasn’t ready to see him again.
She yanked open the door and pasted on a smile. “Chase.”
“Hi.” His shoulders were wedged under his ears, his face red from the walk through the cold.
“Come in.” She stepped back and let him in, wondering how a billionaire would view her tiny apartment. If he’d judge her rattling refrigerator or her hand-me-down kitchen table and chairs.
“I called.”
She closed the door, noting how much space Chase took up in her itty-bitty kitchen. He dominated the area with his height and his piney scent. She admired how handsome he was with a touch of pain in her chest, his eyes gray against his charcoal wool coat and dark stylishly messy hair.
God. She’d missed him. She hadn’t missed him for years, and now two days of being away from him had left a hole in her chest.
If she’d had time on the phone with Kris, Miriam would have admitted she’d partaken of the forbidden fruit and slept with him, but she also would’ve stated that her only interest in him now revolved around handling the political situation. With him standing in front of her looking strong and like someone she’d like to hold and kiss—and strip naked—Miriam’s heart lurched. He wasn’t so easily categorized in person.
“Is your phone off?” He was looking around the room and spotted her pint of ice cream on the table. He canted his head. “Are you all right?”
“I’m on a leave of absence.”
“I know. I tried your work first. Nancy answered her phone.” His mouth lifted in a teasing tilt.
“I turned my ringer off. It rings constantly.”
He pulled in a deep breath. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s not your fault I protested Big Oil three years ago.” She didn’t blame him for Blake. The man had no scruples and was trying to get his way at any cost.
“Zach married a woman in public relations. Penelope Brand, now Ferguson,” Chase said. “She’s handling this on her end. I came over to pass along her phone number so you could touch base and work out a plan. She’s the best.”
“If it was a Dallas number, I ignored it.” She gave him a wan smile and accepted Penelope’s business card.
“Understandable.”
“Can I get you—” she said at the same time Chase spoke.
“I’m flying out today.”
She blinked. “Oh.”
“I can handle everything better from home base.” He looked to the window and then back at her. “I didn’t only come to drop off the business card.”
Her breath stalled.
“I didn’t want to leave without saying goodbye.”
A familiar fault line in her heart shook. Made sense. That break never had healed properly. He came to say goodbye, which was sweet, except that it also meant he was leaving. It was what she wanted. Or, it was what she’d told herself she wanted, anyway.
“Do you have everything you need, Mimi?” His words were measured like he expected her to protest.
She gave a jerky nod. She didn’t have everything she needed, but she wasn’t sure how to voice the unthinkable.
His eyes warmed and he stepped closer. She put out a hand to stop his advance, but when her palm met his chest she smoothed over the thick cotton of h
is sweater instead. So big and strong and for a few stolen days, hers again.
“Are you sure?” He lowered his lips to her forehead and let out a harsh breath. “There’s nothing I’m forgetting before I go?”
Her nose tingled, her eyes heated, but she refused to cry in front of him. And she wouldn’t prolong the inevitable.
“I’m good,” she lied.
“You’re better than good, sweetheart.” He pressed his lips to her temple. A shudder shook her spine. It was taking everything in her not to press against him and bury her nose in his neck. “If you need anything...call Penelope, okay?”
It wasn’t what she wanted him to say. Wasn’t he the one who promised she could call him if she needed anything? Had she expected him to come here and make one last profession?
Like what? That now that his political career is suffering a blow, he’d like to marry you?
“What time’s your flight?” she asked, the insane thought about marriage lingering in the forefront of her mind. She needed him to leave—for both their sakes.
“Sooner than I’d like.” He offered a tender smile. “Why? Need help finishing your ice cream?”
She pulled her fingers down his sweater and stopped on his belt, brushing the cool metal with her thumb. No matter how much she reminded herself that he was no good for her, she went back like an addict who couldn’t kick a habit.
When her eyes flicked up to his, it was to witness heat blooming in his darkening pupils. He dipped his head and kissed her hard, pushing her back until her ass hit the kitchen wall. His hands caught her face as he blanketed her with his weight, pressing the length of his body—and the length of his hard-on—against her. She sighed into his mouth, wanting him in spite of how stupid it would be to give in to the throbbing longing in her veins, the merciless pleading of her heart. He felt too good—being near him felt too good.
“Don’t go,” she whispered.
“Mimi.” His lips were off hers, coasting along her cheek. “Honey, I have to go.” He let out a dry laugh but when he pulled away she saw the lack of humor in his smile. “God, I have to.”
He pulled his hands from her body and pushed them into his hair, leaving her sagging against the wall, her shirt wrinkled, her panties damp. He looked at the ceiling as if gathering his strength and then dropped his arms and met her eyes again.
“What do you want?” he asked evenly.
Wasn’t it obvious? Him. Naked. Now.
“Long-term. What do you want?” he reiterated. “A family? A career? A mansion?”
Her hormone-saturated brain slogged through possible answers.
“I need to know, Mimi.”
“I want...yeah, a career. I want to teach and work with kids and make the environment better. I don’t need a mansion.” She gestured at her place. “This is fine. And I have a family. A wonderful family.”
His returning nod was solemn. “Good. That’s good.”
“What do you want?” she asked in return, trying to decipher what he wasn’t saying.
“I want to be the mayor of Dallas. I want more nieces, or a nephew. I like my mansion.” His smile was lopsided, if not a little sad.
Tears burned behind her eyeballs but she refused to let them fall. The question was asked—a question they’d asked several times over in many different ways.
What did they want?
Chase wanted his life the way it was. Miriam wanted hers the way it was.
No matter how much they wanted each other, that barrier wasn’t going anywhere.
“Have a safe flight.” She cleared her throat when the words came out tight with emotion. She had to let him go. For the last time. “I guess it’ll be a while before you return to Montana, huh?”
His smile faltered. “A little while.”
“You’ll be reelected, Chase. I’m certain of it.”
“And you—” he moved a stray curl from her eye “—will be reinstated to MCS. I’ll make sure of it.”
“Don’t do...whatever it is you’re thinking of doing. It’s my job. I’ll handle it.”
“It’s my fault you’re not there.” Before she could argue, he stole one last kiss. It was far too brief. “Goodbye, Mimi.”
“Goodbye, Chase.”
He turned for the door without looking back.
And she didn’t watch him go.
* * *
On the flight to Dallas, Chase watched out the window as clouds passed under the belly of the private jet. He’d taken Pen’s advice and asked Mimi what she wanted. He’d given her the chance to say...well, whatever she wanted. Whatever she was brave enough to tell him.
What Mimi had told him was what he should have expected. She wanted to work at Montana Conservation Society and shape the youth of tomorrow. But more than what she had said was what she hadn’t said.
A speech from ten years ago played in his head.
Back then she hadn’t minced a single word. She’d plainly told him they were destined to be together. That they could weather any storm—be it geography or finances or the disapproval of either of their families. She’d mentioned them getting married, an idea that hadn’t sounded as horrible to him as he knew it should’ve. She insisted she’d make a great lawyer’s wife, and mentioned how handy—if she ever had to sue someone—it would be to have someone as smart and brave as him on her side.
“We can weather any storm,” he mumbled to the window. And yet the literal storm they’d weathered—the blizzard that brought them back together—had been the very thing to drive them apart.
He swiped his face, tired from not sleeping. He’d sat up with a glass of wine or lain and stared at the ceiling over the last two nights, at a loss for what to offer her. The only answer he came up with in those dark, silent hours was to give her what he owed her. Her life back.
Emmett returned to the cabin holding a pair of rocks glasses with a couple of inches of amber-colored liquid in each. “Scotch?”
“If I say no, will you drink both?” Chase asked. One o’clock was early for a nip, but what the hell. Maybe it’d numb the pain that was a permanent resident of his chest.
“Looks like you’re the one who needs both.” Emmett had insisted on flying out. Said they could make a plan on the flight home for the “situation” in Dallas.
Emmett lowered his big body into the seat across from Chase, eyebrows raised in question.
“It was always a long shot,” Chase said, accepting a glass.
“What? You becoming mayor?” Emmett smirked.
“Mimi. She and I...it was never a sure thing.”
“Sex muddies the mind,” Emmett crossed one leg ankle-to-knee and leaned back. “Creates bonds where there shouldn’t be any.”
“How the hell do you know?” Chase sipped his scotch and relished the burn low in his throat. “You haven’t bonded with any woman you’ve taken to bed, have you?”
“I wasn’t talking about me.” Emmett drank from his own glass, peering over the rim at Chase.
“Mimi and I aren’t the same. Never have been. Us together...” He searched for the right words. “We hold each other back.”
“You hold back.” It was a statement that sounded an awful lot like the start of an argument. “You’re careful. You heed warning signals. It makes you a great politician. They had to dig up a woman from ten years ago to find a scrape of dirt on you.” Emmett shook his head. “Careful’s good for your career. Not sure if it’s good everywhere else.”
“I’m not going to force her into something she doesn’t want.” Namely, him. And his messy life.
“Did you ask her what she wanted?”
“Yes.” He was somewhat vindicated that he could answer honestly.
“No overlaps? No common denominator?”
Chase shook his head though he wasn’t sure if that was true. Sure, their careers
were in different states, but was that insurmountable? No, he realized. It wasn’t. He could have negotiated...he just hadn’t. There were too many reasons not to, at least that’s what he’d convinced himself.
Emmett polished off his drink and stood for a refill.
“Dammit, Em. Are you my advisor or not? What are you trying to say? Out with it.”
Emmett swirled the remaining ice cube in his glass before raising his face. “Do you love her as much as you loved her ten years ago?”
Grinding his back teeth together, Chase said, “No.”
His friend’s expression tightened.
“More.” Chase drained his own glass in one gulp. “I love her more.”
“And did you tell her that?”
Chase shook his head.
“Told you. Too careful.”
Chase didn’t know what he hated more, admitting to himself that he’d been too chickenshit to tell Mimi the truth, or admitting that his best friend was right.
He had been too careful.
But that didn’t mean he was too late.
Twenty-One
That afternoon when Stefanie had followed Emmett to Chase’s office, she’d learned plenty about what was going on with her oldest brother.
It’d taken some doing, but she’d eventually pried out of Emmett that all of this was over the girl Chase had met when they’d summer vacationed in Montana.
The rebellious age of nineteen at the time, she’d been not at all interested in her brother’s love life. Not that she was interested in it now, but she was a grown woman and well aware that since he’d returned to Dallas, something was amiss.
When Stef showed up at the conference hall, she flashed a smile at the security guy posted at the door. Since he was one of Emmett’s heavies, he knew her—no need to show her credentials. Inside, she bypassed the drooling, hunching horde of reporters, refusing to look any of them in their beady eyes.
Vultures.
As a Ferguson and a billionaire by her own rights, she’d had her fair share of having her name besmirched at any convenient occasion. She had no love for these people. Zero.
A Snowbound Scandal (Dallas Billionaires Club Book 2) Page 15