by Jackie Braun
Their surroundings faded into oblivion. Everything faded, so that what stood out in stark relief was a need as basic and essential as breathing.
Chase whistled as he peeled back the jacket, which rested on her shoulders only briefly before slipping down her arms and falling to the floor. Neither of them made any move to retrieve it. The jacket was as forgotten as their surroundings.
“This cami is a little plain. But the lace is enough to make me look and feel like a girl despite the boring suit.”
He made a humming sound. “I’ll say.”
She glanced down to find both of her nipples standing at attention, straining against the silk. Chase brushed the backs of his knuckles across one before placing his mouth over it through the fabric. Ella moaned and glanced askance at his desktop. Clear off the blotter and it would do in a pinch. So would the floor. Heck, even a wall...
The ding of the elevator, along with Chase’s uttered expletive, breached the haze of her hormones. Someone was coming.
Both she and Chase reached down at the same time to retrieve her jacket from the floor. Their foreheads smacked together with enough force that she saw stars.
“God. Sorry.” He held Ella’s jacket so she could slip into it. “Are you hurt?”
“Nah. Slight concussion maybe. You?”
“Same,” he replied.
She’d just finished tying the belt when Elliot poked his head in the office. His eyes lit up when he saw her. “Isabella, my dear. You look even lovelier than I remember. God, how I’ve missed you.”
“I’m Ella,” she corrected gently. “Ella Sanborn.”
A knot formed in her throat at his confused expression.
“Isabella was his wife,” Chase whispered, his expression forlorn.
Owen came into view then. He’d heard the exchange, too.
“Ella, hello.” Owen’s tone was gentle when he told his father, “You hired her to plan your party, remember?”
“Party?”
“Wake.” Chase supplied.
“Right. My wake. Exactly.” Elliot nodded vigorously, his gaze once again focused. “You’re here to discuss the plans.”
“Yes. Why don’t we go to your office?” Her gaze slid briefly to Chase as she started for the door. “What you have in mind is very large and will require a lot of expertise to carry off. I’ve been doing some thinking...”
That was all Chase was privy to before he heard Elliot’s door close. Alone in his own office, he sank down in the leather chair behind his desk, thankful to be alone. He needed a few minutes of privacy to collect his thoughts and get both his breathing and his body under control.
This was a place of business, not a hotel room, but if not for Owen and Elliot’s untimely interruption, Chase couldn’t say for certain that things with Ella wouldn’t have progressed to their logical conclusion.
That thought had him scrubbing a hand over his face. There was nothing logical about having sex in his office with the door half open. He’d fired people for less egregious breaches of professionalism. But damned if he wasn’t still as turned on as all hell when he glanced to where Ella had stood minutes earlier, her top discarded along with his own good intentions.
She deserved better than that.
Half an hour later, when he heard her voice outside his office, he felt composed enough to join her and his uncle in the reception area. Owen was there, too.
“Did everything get sorted out?” he asked Ella.
“It...did.”
“Good.” It really was for the best that his uncle’s huge undertaking would soon be in more capable hands. “I took the liberty of compiling a list of more established party planners,” he told his uncle. It included some of the city’s most elite and well-respected services. He didn’t mention that he’d also drawn up contract specifications and confidentiality agreements for whoever eventually landed the job.
“That’s very thoughtful of you, Chase,” Elliot began. “But Ella—”
“I know what you’re thinking,” he interrupted. “Ella deserves some compensation for the time that she’s put in already. I think letting her keep the deposit would be reasonable.” Indeed, he should have thought of that earlier. “And, I don’t know if she mentioned it, but I’ve asked her to plan a small party for me at the penthouse.”
“Really?” Elliot blinked at that. “She didn’t tell me.” His grin unfurled. “So, you’re throwing a party?”
His uncle’s surprise troubled Chase. Was he really seen as such a stick in the mud that throwing a party would be out of the realm of possibilities?
“It’s dinner for six. Well, seven including Chase,” Ella supplied.
“Oh.” Elliot’s expression deflated like a beach ball that had sprung a leak. “That’s not really the same as a party.”
Chase caught himself before he could argue. They were getting off track—something that was easy to do when conversing with his uncle.
“The point is Ella needs more experience when it comes to her new line of work, and she’ll be getting it.”
“How practical of you, Chase,” Owen drawled, eyes gleaming. “Saint Chase. Always willing to help out the little man. Or woman, in this case.”
“It is practical,” he said.
“He’s doing it as a favor, really.” Ella smiled.
Chase nodded, glad that she saw it that way. The dinner party would allow her to get her feet wet on a much more manageable event. That was much better than having her foundering right out of the starting gate while trying to plan a party for seven hundred. A party that would see more than its fair share of media coverage.
Elliot nodded, too. “Good thinking, my boy. I’m on the guest list for your dinner, I assume.”
“Uh, actually—”
“I’m eager to see Ella in action,” Elliot said.
Okay, it would be dinner for eight. Rounding up the number shouldn’t pose a problem at this stage. He’d only just given Ella the addresses.
“It will give me an idea of what to expect,” his uncle continued.
“Expect?”
“For the wake.”
“Wh-what?” Chase’s gaze cut to Ella, who smiled sheepishly before glancing away.
“He wouldn’t let me quit, even after I explained that I am brand-new to the business,” she mumbled.
“All of us were new at our jobs at one time or another. That’s what Dad told her,” Owen inserted with a told-you-so smile.
“Quite right,” Elliot agreed.
“But Ella’s background is in fashion merchandising.”
For a moment, the scene with Camilla at The Colton played back. Chase had defended Ella then every bit as vigorously as he was denouncing her abilities now. That was different, he assured himself, even as the word hypocrite whispered in his head.
Elliot waved his hand in dismissive fashion. “I don’t care what her background is or even if she has a college degree. I never graduated from high school. I earned a general equivalency degree later on, but, sadly, I found school boring at the time.”
Chase tried again. “But making toys, Uncle, it was and remains your passion. Party planning is, well, something that Ella is just dabbling in.”
“I’m not dabbling.” She frowned at him, her expression wounded. “This is what I want to do.”
“See?” Elliot looked pleased. “When I created the prototype for Randy the Robot, the established toy companies wouldn’t give me the time of day. It’s why I decided to launch my own. Everyone deserves a chance. I’m giving Ella hers.”
“It’s settled, Chase. Why not accept it?” Owen added with double meaning. “Dad is going to get his Irish wake. The media will be there. The board of directors will be in attendance. And Ella is in charge of it.”
Owen smiled.
/>
Chase swore.
SEVEN
“You’re angry,” Ella said.
“You’re right.”
They were in the elevator heading to the lobby. Chase still had sixteen more floors during which he could vent, but to Ella’s surprise that was all he said on the subject. Instead, he pulled out his cell phone, punched in a number and barked, “Bring my car around,” to whoever had the misfortune of being on the other end of the line.
At street level, he escorted her to the main doors. She half expected him to toss her out on her rear, given the murder lurking in his eyes and the way his jaw tightened. Instead, he held open the door for her and then followed her outside.
“Are you going somewhere?” she asked as they stood on the sidewalk.
“Besides insane, you mean?”
“You don’t need to leave the building for that,” Ella pointed out with a grin that earned her a withering glare.
“I’ve decided to take a short break.” He glanced up the street, apparently searching for the car he’d ordered brought around.
She raised her hand to hail a cab, but he stopped her.
“What are you doing?” she asked as his fingers wove through hers and he held on.
“You’re coming with me.”
Ella blinked. “Where are we going?”
“My place.”
“You want to take me home with you?”
Their sexy antics in Chase’s office prior to his uncle and cousin’s arrival blasted through her mind. His home would afford both privacy and a flat surface more conducive to lovemaking. But Chase’s current mood seemed all wrong for romance.
“You can check out the dining room and configure the place settings for my dinner party.”
He had a flat surface in mind, all right. But it wasn’t the one she was thinking of. She should have been relieved that Chase still wanted her for the job. More than ever, she needed the experience it offered. But the request caught her off guard. He hadn’t mentioned it earlier. Of course, he hadn’t mentioned a lot of things since both of their mouths had been put to more satisfying uses than conversation.
“N-now?” she sputtered.
“What? You can’t spare a few minutes before you start on the plans for my uncle’s wake?” he drawled.
“That’s not fair.”
“Fair!” Anger flashed in his eyes. “You agreed to quit, Ella.”
“I tried!” And she had, but ultimately Elliot had been adamant that she stay on. He had faith in her abilities, he’d told her. And, damn, if hearing that hadn’t made her want to tackle the job all the more. Still, she resented Chase’s implication that she’d somehow gone behind his back. “I made it perfectly clear to your uncle that I didn’t have any experience, but Elliot was adamant. Owen agreed.”
“Owen?” Chase’s eyes narrowed.
She swallowed and admitted, “Elliot asked him what he thought and he said I was perfect for the job.”
“I should have known,” Chase muttered. “What else did my cousin say?”
“Not much.” She scuffed the toe of one blinged-out shoe on the pavement. “Just that he agreed with Madame Maroushka.”
“Madame—who in the hell is Madame Maroushka?”
Ella winced at his tone. She hadn’t planned to mention the fortune-teller to Chase, even though she’d told Elliot and Owen about her visit to the woman as a way to illustrate why she wasn’t right for the job. She might have known that Elliot would see her avant-garde approach to finding gainful employment as a plus. She doubted Chase would agree. Well, the cat was out of the bag now. No reason to try to stuff it back in. Besides, it wasn’t as if the man could become more irritated with her. Based on his expression, he was already well past the point of being irate.
Ella’s spine stiffened. Come to think of it, she was starting to feel a little ticked off herself. She was being made to feel like the bad guy in this situation when technically none of it was her fault.
So, summoning up an air of nonchalance, she informed Chase, “Madame Maroushka is a fortune-teller. When I paid her to read my palm last month, she told me that she saw me planning parties for a living.”
Chase let slip the mother of all expletives in a voice loud enough that some of the pedestrians marching past them on the sidewalk turned and glared disapprovingly.
“That’s how you became a party planner?” he asked, incredulous.
“Yes.” Ella notched up her chin. “I bought business cards that very day. I’ve been looking for a full-time job in my field since graduation without any luck.” She briefly explained to him about Camilla. “This seemed like a viable alternative.”
“Perfect. You live in a shoebox of an apartment in a building populated by miscreants and nymphomaniacs in a neighborhood where drunks mistake lampposts for urinals and you make a major career decision based on the advice of a palm reader.” He cursed again, this time with less verve and volume. “And people think my uncle is the one with a screw loose.”
“Okay, my approach might be a little unconventional,” she began.
“No. Wearing those shoes to a business meeting is unconventional. Listening to a con artist—”
“Palm reader,” she interjected.
Chase nodded. “Like I said, listening to a con artist is frigging nuts. She probably got a kickback from the guy who printed up your business cards.”
“She did not.” When Chase stared at her, brows raised, Ella admitted. “Okay, he’s her nephew and she tried to fix us up, but she wasn’t getting any money for referring me to him. In fact, she gave me a coupon.”
He scrubbed a hand over his face. “Ella, do you really think someone can look at the lines on your hand and accurately predict the future?”
She shrugged. “She saw me at a party.”
“Let me guess, since she knew you were single, she also saw you with a man. Am I right?”
Ella didn’t care for the direction their conversation was taking. She folded her arms over her chest and muttered, “Madame Maroushka may have mentioned a man.”
She’d said he was tall and handsome. But not dark. Fair. Like Chase. Hmm. Gooseflesh threatened to prickle Ella’s arms. She studied Chase a moment before adding, “Of course, she didn’t tell me he’d have such a bad attitude.”
He snorted. “Maybe she was referring to someone else.”
“Maybe she was referring to your cousin. Owen said Madame Maroushka was right, and that I’d found my calling.”
Thunderclouds had nothing on Chase’s ominous expression. “You’d be smart not to put stock in anything my cousin says. He’s a shameless flirt, whether in the office or out.”
Happy to have someone other than herself to discuss, she said, “Is that why the two of you don’t get along?”
“It goes beyond that.” Chase rubbed his eyes and sighed. Some of the fight went out of him. “He has a permanent chip on his shoulder.”
Before she could ask why, the car arrived. The man behind the wheel hopped out as Chase opened the passenger door for Ella. He was angry with her, but he hadn’t forgotten his manners.
Well, not completely, she amended, when he snapped, “Are you coming or what? I don’t have all day.”
“And here I was just thinking how well-mannered you are, despite being upset.”
He closed his eyes briefly. “Can you please get in the car, Ella? We have things to discuss.”
She decided to cut him some slack. He was right about having things to discuss. Just as he was right about her being in over her head when it came to Elliot’s party. But what was she going to do? Returning to the palm reader for advice was out of the question.
So Ella got in the car, folded her hands in her lap and crossed her ankles demurely. She kept her gaze glued to the shoes he’d
labeled unconventional for the duration of the drive.
* * *
It came as no surprise that Chase lived in one of Manhattan’s most exclusive ZIP codes. Or that his building boasted snazzily dressed doormen and a keen-eyed guard who sat perched behind a security desk. Nor was Ella surprised when they boarded an elevator that required a special key to access his apartment. It whisked them to the top floor. Only the penthouse would do for someone with Chase’s discerning taste.
Ella supposed a lot of women would have been impressed with his exclusive address, not to mention the breathtaking view of the city that was visible from the windows in his living room. But she’d once lived in a place every bit as prestigious, with a view of the Hudson that had sent real estate agents into a swoon as they’d calculated their potential commission upon sale.
The address didn’t make the man. Or the woman, she liked to think. People made themselves. Right now, unfortunately, all Ella had managed to make was a mess.
“The dining room is through here,” Chase said.
He tossed his keys onto the foyer’s console table, where they slid across the polished surface before falling to the floor with a clatter. Chase swore softly as he stooped to pick them up. Even so, he didn’t appear quite so angry now. She might not know him very well, but she saw frustration in the set of his mouth, anxiety in the crease of his brow. He was worried about his uncle. Ella’s heart squeezed. She caught his arm as he moved passed her.
“Before we start on business, can we talk about, well, business? I don’t want to make things worse for Elliot, Chase. Honest. I may not know him well, but it’s not hard to adore him, and I don’t want to do anything to jeopardize his position at Trumbull.”
He sighed. “I know. I’m sorry.”
“I can try to quit again,” she offered. “Maybe I should call him and resign over the phone, or pick a time when Owen won’t be around to agree with him.”
“Owen.” He spat out the name.
Curiosity once again piqued, she said, “You mentioned earlier that he has a chip on his shoulder where you’re concerned.”
She left it at that, waiting for Chase to either tell her it was none of her business or fill in the blank. It took a moment, but finally he did the latter.
