The Heartbreaker

by Carly Phillips

  Something she’d better remember and quit getting so attached to Chase or to his wonderful family.

  “Okay, we’re on for tonight.” Kendall smiled, obviously pleased to be in on the action.

  Rick frowned and Sloane recognized his stern cop face. “Only because she promised to behave herself and not get into any trouble.”

  “We won’t stay long,” Sloane promised. “Just long enough to see if Samson shows up.”

  “Sodas for everyone!” Izzy interrupted, placing drinks on the table. “I provided all your favorites. If you want to order lunch, just give me a wave.”

  “We’re ready now, Izzy,” Chase said. “If we wait any longer, it’ll be dinnertime. What are today’s specials?”

  “I love you Chandler boys and your appetites.” She pulled her pad out and read from the back. “Today’s specials are Norman’s chicken pot pie—”

  “Since when do you need to refer to a pad for specials, Iz?” Rick asked.

  “Since they involve more than just food.” She winked and continued. “In addition to the daily special, we’ve got a betting pool going. The more people who enter, the bigger the winnings, so I’ve been told to mention it to every table. But seeing as how two people here have the inside track, Rick and Kendall are ineligible.”

  Sloane narrowed her gaze. “What are you talking about?” She turned to Chase. “Do you know what she’s talking about?”

  “Unfortunately, yes.” He actually envied Sloane her confusion. “Come on, Izzy. Why the hell are you bringing this up here?”

  “Isn’t it obvious?” She placed her hands on her generous hips. “The pot’s bigger than the Super Bowl. I want to win and you two can give me the advantage.”

  Rick snickered. Damn fool obviously knew what was going on too.

  Chase groaned. “Sloane, it seems we’re the subject of a pool.”

  “I’ll just put up some burgers on the house.”

  Rick chuckled. “Good idea, Iz.”

  “What kind of pool?” Sloane asked.

  “They’re laying odds on whether or not you’re it. For me.” Chase’s cheeks burned and he could only imagine what shade of red he’d turned during this embarrassing conversation.

  “It?” She bit down on her lower lip.

  He itched to kiss that mouth and forget everything else.

  “Everyone in town is betting on whether you’re the one for Chase,” Kendall piped in.

  “The woman to finally make the heartbreaker part of a couple. A permanent couple,” Rick added, and wagged his eyebrows in exaggeration. “Get it?”

  “Got it,” Sloane said, obviously shell-shocked and stunned.

  “It started as a Gazette office pool and somehow became a town bet.” Chase held his head in his hands. “Still enjoying small-town life?” he asked Sloane wryly.

  Her eyes opened wide. He wondered what she was thinking and wouldn’t blame her if she ran far and fast. Instead, she burst out laughing, obviously amused by it all. “I am. I really am enjoying this town and these people.”

  * * *

  The truth was as much a revelation to Sloane as it obviously was to Chase. But sitting here, the subject of town speculation, watching Rick laugh at his brother’s predicament and seeing Chase squirm, Sloane felt lighter than she had in years. She was happy despite her very personal, now very dangerous, circumstances.

  Because she wasn’t on call. Wasn’t expected to perform.

  Wasn’t expected to be a Carlisle who fit the family mold. She was just a woman whom Chase Chandler seemed to enjoy, whom his family seemed to like and approved of.

  Izzy returned with a bottle of ketchup and extra napkins. “So? Any inside tips?”

  Sloane chuckled. “I’m not sure what to tell you. You know yourself, Chase is the ultimate heartbreaker and I’m only in town for a short time,” she said over her shoulder.

  “Oh pooh.” Izzy waved her hand in the air. “That’s what they all say. Just ask Kendall. You’re here now and I’m laying odds on you going all the way.” She snickered; then to the older woman’s credit, she turned a beet-red shade. “Didn’t mean that the way it came out.”

  Sloane grinned, laughter bubbling forth again.

  “Hello, all.” An older woman in a housecoat, her hair pulled into a gray bun, strode up to the table. “Say hello, Eldin.” Packages filled her and her companion’s arms, yet she managed to elbow him in the side anyway. “Who’s this new woman in town?” She eyed Sloane curiously.

  “I’m Sloane—”

  “A friend of the family,” Chase said before she could advertise her last name.

  “I’m Pearl Robinson and this here’s my significant other, Eldin Wingate.”

  “Hello.” Eldin shuffled the bags. “Sorry. Can’t shake with my hands full.”

  “That’s okay.” Sloane smiled. “Nice to meet you both. Kendall mentioned you earlier.”

  “Which means she told you we’re living in sin,” Pearl said, lowering her voice. “If Eldin didn’t have a bad back, he’d carry me over the threshold and we’d get married. But until he can, we’re living in sin.” She nodded, pleased with her explanation.

  “I see,” Sloane murmured. Kendall had a point when she said the woman could sum things up quickly. “Kendall just said you rent out her guesthouse.”

  “When her aunt Crystal was alive, she used to let us live in the main house in exchange for upkeep, bless her soul.” Pearl sniffed. “Then Kendall came to town and she fixed up what we couldn’t and gave us an easier place to live. The guesthouse has no stairs, so it’s easier on Eldin’s back.”

  “Are you having a party?” Kendall pointed to the bags of food.

  Pearl started to cough. “Heavens no. It’s just hard for me to cook and so it’s easier if I load up for the week.”

  “I understand,” Sloane said, laughing.

  “We’ve got to be going,” Eldin said. “If I don’t stop her, Pearl will talk all day.”

  “Eldin Wingate, if you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say anything at all.” Pearl shot him an annoyed glare. “Bye, Kendall. It was nice meeting you, Sloane. Boys, you say hello to Raina for me.”

  “We will,” both Chase and Rick said at the same time.

  The elderly couple took their leave, Pearl talking Eldin’s ear off the entire way out of the restaurant.

  “They seem nice.” Too afraid she’d laugh again, Sloane bit the inside of her cheek and didn’t meet anyone’s gaze.

  “You mean weird,” Chase muttered.

  “Odd,” Rick added.

  “They’re just old and harmless.” Kendall chuckled. “You guys better be careful because one day people will be talking about those old Chandler brothers and their strange habits.”

  Sloane sighed wistfully. “I’d think it would be nice to grow old in a place where everyone knows and accepts you for who you are.”

  The sound of her own voice startled her. Realizing she’d spoken aloud, she glanced at her companions, who were staring at her as if she’d lost her mind. Little did they realize, she was just starting to find her mind, and herself, in this small town called Yorkshire Falls.

  * * *

  Chase paused outside his guest room. The door was open and Sloane stood by the wooden dresser, adjusting her shirt, another tight long-sleeved number, this one ribbed.

  He knocked once. “Ready to deal with your biker friends?” he asked as he stepped into the room.

  “Don’t you mean, am I ready to find my father?” She turned his way and treated him to a warm smile, but he didn’t miss the hint of nervousness in her voice or the fact that the smile didn’t quite reach her eyes.

  She was scared.

  “I’ll be there the whole time,” he promised, walking up beside her. “But you realize we may end up no closer to finding Samson than we are right now?” He wanted her to be prepared for the worst.

  She nodded. “I hope Earl’s heard from him. If not, maybe he’ll just be more willing to talk abou
t where Samson might be.” She drew a deep breath and exhaled hard. “I’ll be ready in a minute.” She picked up a scarf from the dresser and tied it around her neck.

  “I brought you something.” He showed her the shirt he’d taken from his closet.

  “What’s that?”

  “My shirt.” He held it open for her to slip on like a jacket. “In case our biker buddies are there.”

  She raised an eyebrow in surprise.

  He shrugged. “It’s safer not to take chances. This way we make the statement that you’re mine before we walk in the door.” He folded his arms across his chest, determined to get his way. And even more determined not to let her wide-eyed stare and full glossy pout get to him.

  Fat chance, he thought as she willingly slipped one arm into a sleeve, then the other, wrapping the shirt around her, much the same way he’d like to wrap her in his arms and keep her safe. Accepting that he could protect her physically but not from the emotional upheaval that was sure to follow her search for Samson wasn’t easy. And he hated the helpless way it made him feel. Hated the implications of his feelings even more.

  She pivoted toward him and he instinctively grabbed the lapels, pulled her close, and sealed his mouth against hers. She parted her lips and his tongue slipped inside, finding her warm and welcoming. He hadn’t realized how much he needed this. Since he’d been sitting with Sloane, watching her with his family, and seeing her enjoy his small-town life, his craving for her had grown. He was falling for this woman and it wasn’t in his plans.

  She stepped backward, breaking the kiss, a satisfied smile on her face. “I do like how you take possession.”

  “Does that mean you’ll wear the shirt?”

  She lowered her arms and the sleeves fell below her fingertips. “It’s too big,” she said, her eyes flashing playful sparks.

  “Make do.” He wasn’t playing games, not with her safety. And not, he admitted to himself, with the chance another man might be interested enough to come between them.

  She raised her arm, saluting him with a shirt-covered hand. “Yes, sir.” Laughing, she turned back to the mirror. She picked up a tube of lip gloss and proceeded to fix her makeup.

  Shaking his head, he returned to the living room to wait, trying to reconcile Sloane Carlisle, the senator’s “daughter,” with the woman who so obviously enjoyed the game. Not the game of chasing after Samson, but the role of playing Chase Chandler’s woman.

  And damned if Chase didn’t like it too.

  Chapter Eleven

  Crazy Eights hadn’t changed in the few days since Sloane’s last visit—the smell of smoke still permeated the air and the drinks flowed fast around her. However, there was a difference, and it wasn’t subtle. As she walked into the back poolroom, she had the support of Chase and his family behind her this time.

  She couldn’t lie to herself. Their presence meant a lot. No matter how much she loved her family and they loved her, she’d always felt the differences between them, enough for her to sense she was the odd woman out without knowing why. With Chase, Rick, and Kendall, she not only felt the unconditional support, just as she’d had growing up, but she was comfortable. She fit in.

  She glanced around the smoky room. The bikers congregated around a back table, Dice making eye contact long enough to acknowledge their presence. He’d obviously seen Chase behind her and since ownership had been established that first night, he chose to leave her alone. Considering how Kendall had huddled up alongside Rick, Sloane decided her new friend was safe as well. The bikers weren’t an issue tonight.

  Realization dawned and she leaned close to Chase. “There was no reason for me to wear your shirt.”

  “Yes, there was.”

  She looked at him curiously.

  “I wanted you to,” he said simply.

  For a man of few words, he’d just revealed plenty. Swallowing hard, she continued her perusal of the room.

  Earl and his friend looked as if they’d never left their table and she decided not to put off talking to them. Sloane pushed ahead of Chase and strode up to the old man. “Hi, Earl. How are you tonight?”

  “Hiya, pretty lady.” He shot her his toothless grin. “You here for another whooping at my hands?” He grabbed his pool cue and perched it on the floor.

  “I might be persuaded to play a game later. Right now I was hoping to buy you a drink.”

  “You hear that? Free alcohol,” Earl called to his friend at the table. “I see an empty seat over there.” He gestured to a booth that would hold about four. “Come on, Ernie. Whiskey’s on the lady.”

  Sloane opened, then closed her mouth shut. If she wanted answers from Earl, she wasn’t about to argue if he wanted to drink with his friend.

  “Who’s the pretty feline with you?” Earl asked Sloane, gesturing to Kendall with a tip of his head.

  “Feline’s a cat, numb nuts.” Ernie coughed, a hacking sound that worried Sloane.

  “This is Kendall,” Sloane said by way of introduction, gesturing between Earl and her friend.

  “She’s my wife,” Rick practically growled.

  Sloane thanked her lucky stars he hadn’t pulled his gun or revealed the weapon as a macho display of territorialism that seemed so common in this place. But Rick was a professional.

  “Well, you ladies join us and we’ll give our pool table to your men. How’s that sound?” Earl asked.

  Kendall glanced up. A muscle ticked in Chase’s jaw and Rick’s hand slipped to his wife’s waist.

  Oh damn. Sloane needed this conversation, something she knew Chase understood. “That sounds great,” she said before either one could object. “Kendall?” Sloane shot a pleading glance her friend’s way.

  But from the excited gleam in Kendall’s eye, Sloane didn’t have to worry. Kendall was more than up for the adventure despite her glowering husband. “It’s good by me too.” She confirmed Sloane’s hunch.

  “We’ll be over here.” Chase pointed to the railing by the pool table. “Right over here.” He aimed his dark glare and warning tone at Earl.

  “I can’t remember the last time we wuz seen with pretty women like yourselves.” Earl grabbed her arm and led her to the table, Ernie following his friend’s lead with Kendall.

  Sloane shot a grateful glance Chase’s way. He inclined his head and never took his eyes off her, making her feel safe and cared for.

  She liked being Chase Chandler’s woman.

  * * *

  “I don’t like this.” Chase nursed a beer and kept an eye on Sloane while she drank and talked with Earl and his friend Ernie.

  “You think I do?” Rick gestured to the waitress for another beer. “Next time, remind me not to offer to help you out.”

  “Shut up.” Leaning back, Chase decided to use his time wisely and to watch. He’d always been intrigued with the facets Sloane presented, though he had to admit he’d never seen the senator’s daughter, only the relaxed woman. One so different than Madeline Carlisle and so at ease in his world. The one he’d wanted to see wearing his shirt for no real, rational reason.

  He didn’t think this Sloane was the pretense. The woman she showed the world when campaigning for Senator Carlisle, however, was certainly a facade. Sloane might be more casual and relaxed than her family, but that didn’t mean she’d normally behave excessively. And the way she was doing shots with Earl and Ernie revealed a need to let herself be free. Just as she had that first night they’d met.

  He told himself her rebellion was a good thing, considering she’d stifled her needs in favor of her family’s for too long. Surely she’d welcome the opportunity to be on her own when their time together was through.

  He folded his arms across his chest and nodded. Sloane and her situation were perfect for a man who wanted to steer clear of relationships and commitment, and even better for the reporter who wanted to be the one to break her story. So why did the thought leave him feeling hollow inside?

  * * *

  Sloane was dizzy. Giddily
dizzy. Chances were she’d pay tomorrow with a whopping hangover, but for now, she was relaxed and chilling out with Earl. And Earl had a lot of information to offer. Unfortunately, he was willing to speak up only when the women followed his answers with a shot of alcohol. She and Kendall had managed to convince the old man to substitute vodka for whiskey, saving them the more unpleasant taste, but the end result was the same.

  Sloane was drunk. “So you spoke to Samson yesterday? What did he have to say?” Sloane rolled the empty shot glass between her palms. Glancing down, she saw two of them. Not two hands, which she obviously had, but two glasses, which she knew didn’t exist.

  “Yessiree. He called. Surprised me too, since he don’t usually bother to find a phone.” Earl rolled his shoulders and poured his glass full. “Damn fool said he lost his house in a fire, but not to worry—he’s holed up somewhere safe.” Earl turned his attention to her shot glass, filling it halfway. “Did you ever do a slammer?” the older man asked her, changing Sloane’s favorite subject to Earl’s choice.

  “I’ll get the ginger ale,” Ernie said, jumping on the idea before Sloane or Kendall could answer. He headed for the bar, returning a few minutes later with a liter of soda.

  “Bottles at the table,” Kendall observed, her voice slurred. “Do you guys have an in with the owner?” She eyed the soda with curiosity. Obviously, she didn’t know what a slammer was either, but from the gleam in the old men’s eyes, they were about to find out.

  Earl chuckled. “We’re good customers. He don’t mind giving us bottles as long as we pay for them later. And you did say drinks were on you.” He glared at Sloane warily, as if she might have forgotten.

  “And I meant it.” She didn’t mind paying for the drinks, but she was quickly reaching her alcohol limit. With any luck, another two or three questions tops and they’d learn enough to walk out of here.

  “Pour and slam.” Ernie filled the rest of Sloane’s shot glass with ginger ale while Earl began instructing her on the finer points of a slammer. He pointed to the shot glass. “You cover the top of that-there glass with your palm, then slam the bottom against the table. It’ll fizz and you take the shot.” He grinned, pleased with his directions. “You’ll taste how much easier the alcohol goes down.”