And then there’s my other problem.
Chase Marshall.
Instead of being swamped with fear and sadness by my divorce, I’ve found myself thinking of him constantly. Those eyes, gosh golly, I don’t think I can ever forget the way his eyes held mine and promised something I can’t even describe.
And I’m not even going to allow myself to think of his lips because if I do I’m going to need to change underwear before I leave.
That’s the problem I’m having, because sure as hell it’s not saying anything good about me that I’m fantasizing about a man who is basically my boss at the moment, while waiting for my divorce to go through.
And now I have to sit through another dinner with him and attempt not to flirt, though I want to so bad I can almost taste those soft lips that I can’t stop thinking about.
Part of me revels in the thought that I can be attracted to a man so quickly after Brian—at all, really—if I consider what happened back in high school.
But as great as it feels to know that I have no residual fear left, I am not impressed by my lack of boundaries.
For instance, just two days ago I’d run out and used my meager funds to buy a new off-the-shoulder little black dress in case I should end up seeing him again—a dress I’m now wearing—and I know that has nothing to do with my wanting to look professional and everything to do with looking hot.
Why, I don’t know, since I will never have sex with another man while I’m still legally married to Brian, but there you have it. I’ve turned into a hussy and I so want to look good for Chase that I’m willing to ignore my inner voice.
With one last look in the hall mirror, I go to my car and start the hour long drive to the inner city, my nerves as ecstatically excited as they are jumpy.
I’m going to have to start building a few walls and insert some professionalism into these meetings of ours, or I am very afraid I’ll do something I’ll regret.
But, God, just once I wish I had it in me not to care.
Chapter 6
“So I think that setting up the park first will definitely be a better step than tabling it and constructing the Rec first. The little kids will have somewhere besides their own back yards to play together and I think it’ll be a positive step toward building community ties. The young people and their moms can get to know the retirees. Maybe we can promote a buddy program to provide company for the elderly.”
I’ve kept up a steady stream of purely work talk since I’d arrived at Chase—no, Mr. Marshall’s—house thirty minutes ago. He's prepared the same spread as the one we’d had that first night. Only this time the fire pit is blazing and we’ve been lounging against the cushions, sipping wine and talking.
I can’t deny the effort it’s taking to keep from looking at him and delving deeper, getting to know the man, but—
“Is everything okay, Remy?” he cuts in, his body turning into mine as he frowns down at me, his multi-colored eyes holding mine captive.
God, I shouldn’t have come tonight; I should have rescheduled and insisted on meeting for lunch or at his office, anything to keep from being in this intimate setting and alone with a man I find completely irresistible.
Sure, fine, my lawyer had called today and told me that Judge Clark has fast tracked proceedings and that it’s a possibility that instead of waiting another few months, my divorce could be through in a matter of weeks. Next week to be exact, but that doesn’t give me the green light to start an affair with this man, even one that’s just in my head.
“Yeah, fine. I’m just eager to get things done,” I say, swallowing and shifting back an inch when I realize his knee is directly beside my own and that his heat is seeping into me at that point, doing things to me I can’t allow.
Not yet—if ever.
“Eager to get done or get done with me?” he asks, leaning closer, his eyes holding me firmly in place.
Now, see, how am I supposed to answer that? The thought of blowing my way through these projects and leaving him behind when everything is done leaves a physical ache that I can’t deny.
We’ve been at this for just over a month now, and every time I see him I fall a little deeper under the spell. He’s so…unexpected; I can’t think past wanting to see him again.
We talk on the phone at least once a day, sometimes not even getting to the issues at hand, sometimes debating the best way to do things and sometimes just shooting the breeze because we can.
That’s all that’s kept me going since I told Brian about our divorce and slowly started moving things around and packing others.
And then there are these dinners…
We’ve met for dinner only four times now, once for every week of this last month, and it’s driving me crazy wanting him to the point of madness, to the point that by the time I slide into my car to drive home I’m wet and needy.
God, I’m already there now and all he’s done is shift his knee to touch my leg.
“Remy.”
Dammit.
“All… None… God, this is not right,” I say in a burst of air. “Look, I’m married, and granted that won’t be for much longer, thank God, but I am still married and I am…this is so embarrassing. I’m attracted to you, okay?”
He smirks and I swear his eyes drill right into the core of me, their depths going smoky hot and lazy all at once, and I feel myself clench deep inside, my body readying.
“Good. I am attracted to you too, Remy, very much so. In fact, I’ve forced myself to sit through dinner with you and not make one move though my dick is so hard it pains me.”
Oh, wow.
He moves closer and I smell his aftershave and what smells like clean man underneath. I feel my nipples bead beneath the fabric of my shirt, tightening to hard points that I know he can’t fail to notice.
He does, and when he looks back up at me he’s smiling softly.
“I want you so badly it hurts. I lay awake at night wondering what you smell like, taste like, how you’d feel wrapped around my dick as I fuck you hard and then so soft and slow. I think about what you’d look like waking up in my bed. Will your hair be a mess? Will you be grumpy or one of those infernal morning people.”
I’m breathing so hard as he says these things that I wheeze when he leans in and cups my face with both hands, bringing his lips so close I feel the heat of his them seeping into mine.
“But I won’t touch you like that until you’re free and clear of…your husband.” He growls, closing his eyes and pulling my breath into his lungs.
The way he says that is so snide I blink to clear my vision and shake off the unsettled feeling it evokes.
“Uh, listen Chase, I don’t—”
“Don’t say anything till I finish. Please,” he interrupts, pulling back only far enough that my eyes don’t cross when I look at him. “I know that you’re married and also that you’re in the middle of a divorce. I’ll wait, just don’t tell me you don’t want more before you even give this a shot.”
I nod and look away, feeling giddy and terrified all at once. This is so…natural, I guess. Guy meets girl, guy likes girl, guy wants to sleep with girl.
And I feel exactly the same. I just don’t know how I’d feel if I—
“So where are you staying? or has your soon-to-be ex moved into some crappy dive?” he asks, looking like he’d relish Brian’s suffering at the hands of some flea-infested motel.
“Uh, well I’ve moved to the guestroom, and I’m hoping the house sells quickly so I can afford an apartment.”
He rears back—his eyes losing the seductive light—and looks at me hard, seeming almost angry at my words. Way to kill the mood, Rem, I think, almost cringing because part of me did that on purpose to put some distance between us.
Having a guy tell me that he lays awake nights thinking about my body, and then my imagining him jerking off to thoughts of me, makes me so hot I’m afraid to stand up I’m so wet.
Not good, not yet, not till I’m free to do somethin
g without feeling like a whore.
“You need to leave,” he snarls, and I feel my heart stutter—not only at his words, but the pent up fury in them.
Surprisingly, it hurts a lot when those words filter into my sinking brain. I say that because it shouldn’t hurt this much; I hardly know him. No that’s a lie. I’ve learned more about Chase Marshall in the short weeks we’ve been talking and meeting than I know about my own husband.
I know his favorite color is green, that he loves hotdogs and Haggis equally—gross—and that he likes really dirty jokes and thinks it’s weird that I don’t.
I know that he’s kind and giving and fierce about keeping his charity projects alive.
Mostly, I know that it was only after meeting him and feeling his respect and interest that I finally got the balls to tell my lawyer to force the divorce.
I want him as I’ve wanted no man in my life, and the fact of the matter is that I would have him, guilt or not. Except that it now seems that I’ve pissed him off past the point of pulling back.
“Uh, yeah, okay.” I croak, standing shakily to my legs and smoothing down my dress before grabbing my purse.
“Where are you going, Remy?” he barks, standing in one swift move to tower over me, his much taller presence dwarfing my five-foot-three-inch frame, making me feel so small and delicate.
“Er, you just told me to leave.”
“No! I meant you have to leave that house, Remy. You can’t stay there with him,” he snarls, pulling me back down and taking his seat. And this time he’s almost pressed up against me he’s so close.
“Chase, hon, I hate to break this to you, but not everyone has bajillions to throw around. I have exactly three-hundred dollars in my bank account right now, and Brian is sabotaging every house viewing, so I don’t see it selling any time soon. That means I’m either in the guestroom or homeless. Since it’s coming on winter, I’m kind leaning toward the guestroom since I don’t want to die of exposure.” I say with a little more snark then is truly necessary. I close my eyes at the frustration I feel.
I understand his point, really I do, but the guy is so loaded I doubt he even knows what a coupon is. I do, boy, do I know.
According to Brian, the husband takes care of the mortgage and utilities, while it’s my job as the wife to pay for groceries, the maid he insists we have, and even the pool guy.
Needless to say, I never have any money; hence my sparse wardrobe and the fact that I only get a wax every three months because it takes me that long to save enough money.
And know what he does about my legs being hairy? He complains. Constantly.
“Move in here.”
That has my thoughts stopping so suddenly I crack my neck with whiplash.
“Um, that is not even…”
Chapter 7
Chase
She declined my offer.
Of course she did, since I lost my temper and acted like a maniac. But that hasn’t stopped me, and bright and early the next morning I’m walking into her office building with a bouquet of flowers and peanut butter cups clutched in my hand, hoping like all hell she won’t be pissed to see me.
Dinner had gone downhill after she’d declined my offer and I’d, well…
Let’s just say I hadn’t been too happy about the thought of her driving home and sleeping under the same roof as that blight upon humanity that will soon be her ex, very ex-husband.
I get the distinct impression that Remy wasn’t too thrilled at my performance last night, and why would she be? with my yelling obscenities about a man I'm not supposed to know.
I haven’t told her my identity or that I’ve purposefully set out over the last several years to not only destroy the boys who’d been responsible for her heartache, but that I’ve made it my mission to ruin a man she’s spent over a decade lo—
I stop that thought there, unable to even contemplate that she likes the ass, never mind feels anything even remotely like love for him.
“Can I help you, sir?”
A little old lady who looks older than Methuselah asks when I walk into the dingy little building and look around. The nametag reads Rose Digger…ha-ha.
Her eyes are periwinkle blue and start dancing when she sees the peanut butter cups, her mouth quirking softly.
“Her office is the second door on the left, just down that hall. Be nice, she’s having a rough morning. Oh, and thanks for the flowers, they really brighten this place up.”
For a minute, I think she’s got designs on my woman’s daisies before she indicates the vases full of roses I’ve sent on previous occasions. Great, so Remy hasn’t kept any—not one.
I just shrug with a smile and make my way down the gray hall, eyeing the color scheme with a frown. I’m painting this place tomorrow or my girl will shrivel in this heap.
I’m a man, and usually I’d say that very little fazes me, but for the first time in a long while, I’m so bloody nervous I feel my palms start sweating and my heart rate pick up.
Through all of my planning and carefully-thought-out moves, I never once thought that my biggest obstacle to getting Remy could be Remy herself. For a guy who knows this girl on a deep level, I think I forgot that she is by far one of the most honorable women I’ve ever known.
And dam if she isn’t one of the most stubborn too.
So, now that I’ve pissed her off and made her feel even guiltier about what she felt for me before the divorce, I know I’m going to have a real struggle on my hands.
“Oh good Lord above have mercy on my needy self.” I hear the moment I step into the office and I smile at Liv, remembering having met her before.
She’s grinning up at me, her light brown eyes sparkling as she cuts her gaze to Remy, who is currently unaware of my presence and arguing into the phone.
“No, I will not accept that. Of course not, but that’s not the point, Jake. The girls need to attend school more regularly or they will report you. No, Jake, I do not know what that’s like because I am not a single father. I gave you the contact information for the church daycare. I don’t care if you’re not Catholic, the nuns do not discriminate. Fine, then take that risk, but I’m warning you— God he just hung up on me!”
She’s furious, her eyes are so round and intense that I stand back and watch in amusement when she picks up something sharp and hurls it to the right without looking.
When I look up, I laugh in a boom and have to grab the doorframe for support. The photo is almost unrecognizable it’s so full of holes, but I’d recognize that shit-eating grin anywhere.
“Jesus, I can’t believe I was jealous!” I crow, smiling at a now scowling Remy, whose eyes are narrowed on me before a big grin curves her mouth.
“Told ya, Marshall.”
She had told me that I had no reason to stress about her still residing with the idiot, and I hadn’t believed her. I guess I do now.
“Yes, you really did, didn’t you? So…am I forgiven, or would you like to torture me a little longer?” I ask, almost laughing when she looks down and spots the candy I’ve brought her.
As I’ve witnessed on many a dinner, Remy is a total goner for anything that contains the words sugar, chocolate or peanut butter.
“Those babies for me?”
The darling hasn’t even spared the flowers a second glance, and I find myself giving them a jaundiced eye.
“Always. No flowers?”
Liv starts laughing and I pull my eyes away from Remy with an effort to look at the woman now snorting with mirth.
“Dude, her husband used to make her arrange flowers in every room of the house. She freaking hates the things. Bring that bouquet on over here and give it to a woman who’ll appreciate it,” she purrs, batting her lashes at me with a licentious smile that makes me choke on a chuckle.
“You wouldn’t happen to be single by any chance?”
That gets me a snort and a snarl from Remy, and I turn to throw her a wink before giving Liv my attention again.
�
��Yup, but Remy’s my pal so that’s a no go, stud. Sorry, you’ll have to do without this hotness.”
I’m amused but keep myself in check before turning back to Remy and smiling hotly.
“I have a friend who is just this side of anal, and I think he might benefit from a gem such as yourself.”
“Oooh, a blind date? Sign me up, hottie, I’m not picky. Just as long as he has all his teeth, grooms regularly, and doesn’t consider farting an Olympic sport, I’m sold.”
“He’s too uptight to pass wind, Liv, so I think you’re safe.”
“No farting, huh? What does he do with all that gas if he’s as anal as you say?” she laughs and I look over at Remy who’s rolling her eyes and fighting a smile.
I don’t get a chance to volley an answer back before Liv taps her chin and murmurs straight faced.
“S’all cool. I can handle almost anything. I went out with this guy who ate garlic for breakfast, lunch and supper and apparently drank bean smoothies all day long.”
Jesus, this woman.
“I’ll give him your number.” I say through a huffed out laugh, noting Remy’s sparkling eyes and the way she’s biting at her bottom lip to keep from laughing at Liv’s ridiculous antics.
“As long as I’m number one, it’s all peachy. Now give the girl her peanut butter treats and get the hell outta here. I had a rough night and need a nap.”
God, if I didn’t already have a best friend…
“Breakfast, Remy?”
Her eyes freeze on me for a second, and I’m pretty sure she’s about to refuse when I see her face clear and she nods.
“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do kiddos.” Liv giggles, ducking Remy’s hand as I put a hand at the small of her back and steer her out.
“Is there anything you wouldn’t do?”
CALLIE (The Naughty Ones Book 1) Page 34
