Just One Scandal

by Carly Phillips

  “You know that my dad died suddenly,” she said, taking over the conversation when he couldn’t. “He had a heart attack. But what nobody knew was that he had the beginnings of dementia before that.”

  Beck winced. It wasn’t the right time to get into the business mess that had recently occurred between him and Linc, and it wouldn’t change anything with Chloe if he told her he’d heard rumors about her father’s illness. Or about the land deal. It would just force a discussion of his history with her brother. And that was too much to add to today’s heavy drama. So he let her continue.

  “No matter how distant Dad was to my mom and us kids, I didn’t want Dad – or any of us—to suffer watching him with that disease. And when he died, a part of me was grateful we wouldn’t have to. And then I felt guilty for being glad he was gone.” She was confiding in him, obviously encouraging him to do the same.

  “I understand but you have nothing to feel guilty about.” He glanced down at her hand still covering his and knew he was going to break and tell her about his sister.

  He swallowed hard. “Whitney was Tripp’s twin. He couldn’t face watching her fade away, and Drew was busy with internships. I was there with her during treatments and after, when she’d get sick.” He drew a deep breath before continuing. “The doctors said she had a good chance of beating it, and she believed them. My parents believed them. Everyone, including me, clung to that hope. Until it became obvious she wouldn’t.”

  Chloe’s hand came to his neck, her fingers threading up through his hair as she sat close and did the only thing she could. She listened.

  “That’s why I don’t believe in doctors’ platitudes. Words are easy. Statistics are just quotable numbers. Nobody really knows what’s going to happen, and my experience with Whitney taught me to expect the worst.”

  Chloe sighed. “We both know there’s nothing I can say that’s going to change what happened to your sister. And I can’t promise you that your father is going to be fine. But living without optimism isn’t good for you. Expecting awful things and waiting for the worst to happen? All that means is that you’ll miss out on the good things in between.”

  He heard her words. He just wasn’t sure how to process them.

  “Thank you for telling me,” she said softly.

  They sat in silence for a little while. The feel of her fingers against his scalp was mesmerizing and comforting, even as it was arousing. Something he wouldn’t be acting on.

  Not now.

  Hell, he didn’t know if being with her ever again was smart considering how deeply she got to him. This whole scene had been too intimate. “Let’s go to the office,” he said, rising to his feet.

  She nodded. “Sounds like a plan. Let me get my things from my room. Oh, and can we stop somewhere for me to pick up breakfast? I never had a chance to eat, and I’m dying for some coffee.”

  She smiled and he was struck by how easily she allowed the subject change. She was so easy to be with, so understanding of his needs, be it distance or comfort. His princess was the perfect woman. For anyone other than him.

  * * *

  By the time they left to go to Beck’s office, it was nine forty-five. On the way over by Uber, Chloe remained silent, giving him time to process what was going on with his father without adding her own problems to the things he needed to worry about. He’d given her a safe haven when she’d needed it, but he had his own life and issues, which meant it was time to move out of his apartment. She was ready. Now that she had a better understanding of what made Beck tick, she’d better be.

  He was always braced for the worst, afraid of loss, and as a result, he put up walls. He didn’t believe doctors’ promises, and he didn’t do relationships. It all made sense now, especially his pulling away last night. And though she didn’t have to like it, she did need to respect his feelings.

  They arrived at Beck’s office, and she took in the fabulousness of the space. “I love the lobby,” she said as they strode through the entry. The floors were polished concrete, the windows framed in black steel, and the fixtures a brushed brass.

  “Thank you. I’m pretty damned proud of it,” he said.

  She shook her head and laughed. “As you should be.”

  They stepped into the elevator and headed up to the top floor, where a woman sat behind a marble desk. “Good morning, Mr. Daniels.”

  He smiled. “Morning, Annabelle. This is my friend Chloe Kingston. If she needs anything, please make sure she gets it.”

  “My pleasure. Nice to meet you, Chloe,” the pretty brunette said.

  “Same,” Chloe said with a warm smile.

  From there, the tour encompassed the break room, Beck telling her there was a cafeteria downstairs, and introducing her to his personal assistant, who she asked about wirelessly hooking up a printer to her laptop.

  The attractive redhead named Ronnie promised to come by the conference room and make sure she had the password for the internet. She also said she’d help her get her computer set up to print.

  Beck showed her to her workspace, a small room where she settled in. She’d been perfecting her contest entry for months prior to taking the leap and entering. The written component included a fifty-word project summary and a challenge statement, which was essentially a guiding statement to make the client trust in her work. To prove she had a deeper understanding of their needs while incorporating the balance, flow, and rhythm, along with the proportion and scale of the project.

  Every time she revisited her entry, she found herself making changes to the challenge and the solutions. There was also such a thing as taking the point of view and uniqueness out of something, and if she kept tweaking, she risked her entry becoming too generic. Too much like the designs for Linc she wanted to leave behind.

  Ronnie had come in and hooked her up to the internet and printer as promised, and Chloe had been working for over an hour. Needing a break, she turned her attention to apartment hunting. Linc would help her in a heartbeat if she asked him, but she wanted to find a place to live on her own.

  Picking up her cell, she called a friend who was a Realtor and explained the type of place she wanted. Amelia promised to send listings to look at later today.

  Chloe had to admit she hated the idea of moving out of Beck’s loft. Not only did she love the space and décor, she enjoyed his company. He’d been a good friend and source of support, but he’d revealed why she couldn’t rely on him long-term, and hearing his reasons why? She knew she’d better believe him.

  A couple of hours passed during which Chloe, despite her internal warning, perfected her writing portion even more. Her Realtor friend sent rental openings along with some condominiums for her to check out. She printed the ones that looked the most promising because she wanted to see the layouts in larger format.

  Then she headed to the break room, took one look at the Keurig, and decided she’d much rather have a Starbucks instead. She’d seen one across the street, and she just needed to get her phone that had her app so she could pay.

  She walked into the conference room to find Beck staring at her screen, the 3D model of the studio she was designing open for him to see.

  “Beck?”

  He turned to face her. If she thought the man had been sexy prior to her sleeping with him, she found him even more so now. Ignoring the tug of attraction wasn’t easy, but she’d made herself a promise to pull back.

  “This is a phenomenal transformation,” he said, his gaze never returning to the screen. “You turned a bland, open room into a multifunctional living space.” He leaned in closer. “Love the glass panel partition,” he mused. “It lets natural light illuminate the whole apartment.”

  She warmed at his enthusiasm. She couldn’t remember the last time Linc had been excited by her designs or work. Not because he didn’t like the job she did. He never hesitated to compliment her, but this kind of exhilaration was different.

  “Yes.” She stepped up beside Beck. “The average studio apartment is
five hundred and fourteen square feet, so I needed to make use of every last inch without leaving it cluttered. Look.” She pointed her finger without touching the screen. “I hid a foldaway Murphy bed that has shelf storage when closed, and I used mirrors to give the illusion of more room,” she said.

  “Is that wall a deep purple?” he asked.

  “A dark violet accent wall.”

  “Hmm.”

  She was unable to get a read on whether or not he liked the color she’d chosen. Suddenly, something she’d kept secret for so long was in the open, and it felt like she was exposing her heart and soul.

  “I like it,” he said at last.

  And with his approval, she realized how much she’d wanted him to admire her designs. His validation mattered because she’d had so little in her life. Oh, her brothers wanted what was best for her, in that big-brother-knows-what-that-is sort of way. But Beck was separate and apart from her family. Not only did his opinion matter, he mattered.

  So much for emotional distance, she thought, frustrated with herself.

  “Who is this for? Because it can’t be Linc. Not with the ultramodern accents.” He turned to face her, curiosity in his gaze.

  She drew a deep breath. “Do you remember when we talked about reaching for what we want? And I asked about fear?”

  A knowing smile lifted his sensual lips. “Yes. And I said to go out, grab the world by the balls, and go after it, anyway.”

  She nodded. “I did. Have you heard of Elevate’s Online Interior Design Professionals Contest?”

  He nodded. “Our in-house interior designer has mentioned it along with the perks that come with winning. I didn’t want to lose her, so I paid her more to stay and not compete.” He shrugged. “In case she won and ended up with a job that would take her away from us. Couldn’t let that happen.”

  Chloe laughed, admiring his cocky attitude and business sense. “Well, I already sent in my entry form. And this is my planned submission,” she said, waving a hand toward the laptop, heart pounding in her chest at the admission.

  For some people, submitting wasn’t a big deal. For Chloe it meant taking that huge step toward independence.

  “You did? That’s fantastic!” He turned toward her, lifted her off her feet, and spun her around in celebration. “Congratulations!”

  As he lowered her, their bodies rubbed together, and awareness shot through her, causing her nipples to harden beneath her shirt. Thank God it was oversized, she thought, glad he couldn’t see the effect he had on her.

  “When are you going to send it in?” he asked, voice gruff, indicating he’d felt the same sparks she had.

  Forcing herself to focus on his question wasn’t easy when her body was on fire. “I’ll enter when I stop trying to make it perfect,” she admitted.

  He narrowed his gaze. “How close to final is it?”

  Even she couldn’t deny the truth. “It’s there. Every new tweak will take the individuality out of it.” She rubbed her hands up and down her arms, her nerves showing again.

  He braced his hands on her shoulders. “Then what do you say you submit now? And tonight we go out to dinner to celebrate?”

  “Really? Are you sure you’re in the mood?” He’d had a blow this morning, and he’d been upset about his dad.

  He inclined his head. “I can’t change the diagnosis, right? Dwelling won’t help. I’m going to see my parents this weekend. So yes, I’m sure. You need to go for what will make you happy, and we need to celebrate your accomplishment. Now no more stalling. Life’s short.”

  His sister, she thought, understanding him so much better now. She could learn a lesson from his loss, too.

  She clasped her hands in front of her. “The photos are set and formatted, captions and floor plans complete. The written section is also finished.” She nibbled on her lower lip. “You’re right. It’s time.”

  Grinning, he took her hand and pulled her closer to the laptop. “Good. You’re ready to show them what you’ve got.”

  It helped to have him in her corner, cheering her on. He was in the real estate business, was aware of design and aesthetic, and she trusted he wouldn’t let her make a fool of herself.

  Her heart slammed inside her chest as she pulled out the chair and sat down in front of the screen. Beck’s firm hand never left her back as she closed out of the program she’d been working in and began the submission process.

  * * *

  Beck felt the tension in the room. From Chloe’s stiff shoulders to the way her hands trembled as she hit the keys, he knew this move was taking everything she had inside her. And he was so damned proud of her.

  Had he pushed? Yes, but nowhere she didn’t want to go. She’d just needed the right encouragement.

  With the last tap of a key, they watched, waiting for the confirmation to appear on the screen. When it happened, she screenshotted the words. “And done!” She spun around to face him, eyes wide, cheeks flushed. “I did it!”

  “Yes!” He fist-pumped the air. “Go, Chloe!” he said, pulling her to her feet. “How do you feel?”

  She treated him to a wide smile, the truest he’d seen since meeting her at her non-wedding.

  “I feel free! I’ve been so worried about feeling like a failure if I don’t win or even final, but now that it’s done? So what if I don’t? I’ll find something else and try again. I have dreams and I’m entitled to them.” Her eyes shone with certainty.

  “That’s my girl,” he said. “I mean…”

  She shook her head. “It’s fine. I know what you mean.” She stepped away, obviously putting distance between them.

  Distance he’d put there first. He needed to get his shit together when it came to Chloe and fast. Push-pull wasn’t his style.

  He cleared his throat. “Just so you know, design professionals judge the contest, and there’s a good chance someone will notice your work regardless of where you place.”

  Her eyes shone bright. “I can’t tell you how much I appreciate your belief in me. It’s been a while since anyone trusted in my skills. Not that my brothers aren’t great guys but–”

  “They have their own ideas of what’s best for you. I get it. I think if Whitney had lived, the three of us would be the same way.” He let out a deep breath, surprised at how much better he felt admitting that out loud.

  He never talked about Whitney. He kept everything bottled up inside him, safe and sound, memories he could take out and hold when he wanted to and push away when they hurt too much. He’d always believed looking at them in the light of day would be too painful to bear, but that admission hadn’t hurt quite the way he would have thought.

  “Hey, are you okay?” Chloe grasped his hands, her cool palms bringing him back to the present.

  He blinked and focused on her beautiful face. “Yeah. I’m good.”

  “Okay then.” She smiled. “Were you serious about going out for dinner?”

  “Yes.” He’d have Ronnie make them a reservation. “Definitely.”

  “Then would you mind if I went back to the loft to pull myself together? I can meet you at the restaurant if it’s easier.”

  His gaze slid over her outfit, skinny black jeans with a white men’s shirt that shouldn’t look hot on her but did. And with her wavy hair pulled away from her face, he remembered what she’d looked like last night, his cock hard inside her, her soft body beneath his.

  He cleared his throat. “I’ll come pick you up. Don’t worry about it. I had plans to have a quick drink with my brothers around six. Is eight o’clock too late?”

  She shook her head. “Not at all.” She closed her laptop and gathered her things. “I’ll call an Uber.”

  “Let me call you a car,” he said at the same time.

  She laughed, her mood still obviously light. “I can get my own ride but thanks. See you tonight.”

  She bounced out of the room and he watched her go, hair swinging behind her. His dick was hard in his pants, and his brain was on overdrive, confu
sion about what to do with his mixed feelings for her swirling in his head. Hence the drinks with his brothers. They knew nothing about meeting him, but he’d call them now. Because he needed them to help him sort his shit.

  He glanced at the table and caught sight of papers Chloe had left there. He stepped forward to grab them to give them to her later when he saw the top page.

  Realty listings.

  Chloe was looking to move out.

  * * *

  For the rest of the day, Beck felt the gut punch of Chloe wanting to leave, which made no sense to him when he was actively keeping her at a distance. Luckily his brothers were more than willing to meet up after work, and at six p.m., he walked into Club TEN29, an upscale nightclub not far from his loft that was also open for drinks after work.

  Beck had met the three owners when he’d rented them the building on property he owned. The men had made a huge success of their business since they’d opened four years ago, and Beck respected them for it. He spent time here with friends or his siblings when he wanted to relax early in the evening or make a night of it later on.

  Since he wanted to talk to Tripp and Drew, he chose a table instead of a seat at the bar and waited for them to join him. He looked at the glass taking up the entire back wall that was lined with liquor bottles, admiring the view.

  “Hey.” Jason Dare, one of the club owners, strode over. He owned the club with two of his fraternity brothers, Tanner Grayson and Landon Bennett, and had named it in honor of Landon’s brother, who died years ago during a frat hazing gone wrong.

  “Hey, Beck. It’s been awhile. How’ve you been?” Jason asked, walking up to him.

  “Busy as usual. You?”

  Jason shrugged. “The same. Except…” He paused, a grin on his face, making Beck curious.

  “Except what?”

  “My wife is pregnant,” Jason said, obviously just waiting for the opening to share the news.

  Beck rose from his seat and slapped the other man on the back. “That’s great! Congratulations!”