My phone buzzed inside my jacket pocket. I knew it was Nica. “I have to go back to work,” I whispered.
“Unh...” Alex said. Whatever that meant.
“Alex, I have to go to work,” I tried again, while he alternated between kissing my lips, my neck, and my ears. I could see stars behind my closed lids. I was dizzy with his freshly-showered scent.
“I’ll be fast.”
“Yeah, right.”
He sniggered. Alex loved to take his time. He was meticulous in all things. With a flick of one hand he undid the button on my jeans, and I heard the zip go down.
Then his fingers...oh those lovely fingers...dipped past the delicate lace I had on.
“I. Have. To. Go. To. Work,” I panted.
He grunted again. “Wall or bed?”
Did it even matter? Even if he had me against the wall now, we’d eventually make it to the bed. Possibly back to the wall again after that. “Bed.”
I could feel him smile against my fired-up skin. He knew he’d won. He knew he got me. I shouldn’t be doing this, for reasons anyone couldn’t possibly understand. For secrets lurking in the dark. We walked toward the bed, careful not to disconnect from each other. His hands were on me, and mine were on him.
I felt the vibration in my pocket again, as Alex’s back hit the bed, pulling me down with him. I wanted to somehow communicate to Nica that I was trying to go back to work, but failing. Failing miserably. The buzzing wouldn’t stop. It meant one thing. There was something important going on somewhere.
Two people, not counting Alex, had my number—Nica and Jewel. Jewel would often send me emails, and Nica loved to either call or text, but mostly call. It was a Monday morning, and it meant we had a weekly meeting. Nica had made it mandatory for staff to attend it. It would be bad form if one of the business partners did not attend because her secret lover was in town and doing things people only read in erotic novels.
On the edge of the bed lay a robe. I figured Alex had it on before he opened the door. An idea shot through my head. I reached over for the sash of the robe with one hand.
“What are you doing?” Alex paused his kissing attacks, staring at the soft cotton belt.
“Something fun.” I shrugged.
Alex grinned. We pushed ourselves up higher toward the head of the bed. It didn’t have a padded headboard nailed against the wall, like most hotels had. It had two large wooden finials, one on each end.
“Arms up.” My legs were astride his, and I sat back, feeling him getting even harder under me. I rolled my hips and he groaned. “Up.” I folded the belt in half as he followed my direction.
I’d read enough erotica through the years, the dirtier the better. They were great resources for times like these. Taking the terry cloth sash, I squirmed up along his torso, and leaned forward to wrap the sash around Alex’s wrists and around one finial. Tight enough to keep his hands there, but looser to make sure his circulation did not get cut off. While I did, Alex lifted his head and bit through my jeans. White hot lust shot through me when he pressed his mouth right where my thighs met. He was going to make me pay for this later.
I gave the belt—now his restraint—a tug.
“Good?” he asked.
“Yeah.” I looked down at him and smiled.
Then I pushed off the bed, zipped up my jeans, and grabbed my helmet.
Alex wriggled on the bed. His smile, half wicked, half sexy, was an invitation. But his smile wilted when he saw me straightening myself up. “What are you doing?”
“Sorry, I gotta go to work.” I really was sorry, more than he could ever know.
“Non, non, non. Chase, you can’t leave now.” Alex pushed his hips off the bed and wiggled them, his manhood swinging like a freaking flagpole. “What about this?”
I bit my bottom lip. Our office better be on fire. “I’m sorry.” Walking back to him, I leaned down to kiss his lips, then stepped toward the door, listening to him calling my name in an urgent, pleading tone.
Pulling the door handle closed, I breathed out a sigh. That probably was the hardest thing for me to do. I pushed my hair aside as I faced a couple in their late fifties walking in the hallway. I gave them a curt nod.
Before I could turn at a corner, Alex called my name again. As I looked over my shoulder, I couldn’t help but snicker.
Alex had gotten the robe’s belt loose—it was still wrapped around one of his wrists and the finial hanging off the other end. Did he destroy the bed? He stood in front of his opened door, in the same state I’d left him in. His hand waving at me to return.
I shook my head, turned around and walked backwards. “Maybe next time!” I yelled, and stifled a laugh as I caught sight of the elderly couple stopping in front of Alex.
Alex faced them, cupped his erection with both his hands, and greeted the couple, “Bonjour. Good morning.” The woman looked down at what his hands were trying to hide, her mouth agape.
I could only guess what she was thinking. But all my thoughts stuck to how I was going to miss him.
As I made my way to the lobby of the hotel, I pulled out my cellphone and checked my messages. There weren’t any from Nica. I’d missed four calls from a blocked number. Should I head back upstairs and finish what Alex and I had started? Just as I was making the decision, my phone vibrated on my palm. This time, it was Nica reminding me the staff meeting would start as soon as I arrived. I guessed she decided for me, after all.
When I reached my bike, my phone buzzed once more. It had never been this busy. My provider would have a heart attack at how much traffic my phone was getting today. The message was from Alex:
Have dinner with me tonight. I promise I will NOT behave.
Why? Why would those words even affect me the way they did? My pulse rate increased with the thought of his promise of misbehavior. I chose not to answer. Let him stew for a bit. If I showed up for dinner, he was going to make me pay for what I’d done.
Here’s hoping.
I shook out my hair, and my dirty thoughts, as I removed my helmet when I reached work. The constant buzzing of my phone was unnerving.
“All right, Nica, I’m already at the parking lot,” I mumbled and ran right upstairs to our new digs.
They were waiting for me in the conference room. Nica sighed as soon as I walked in. I puckered my lips and threw her an air kiss.
“Good, we can start,” she said, getting off her feet while rubbing her swollen belly. Nica was always nauseous and barfing. What upset her more was that she had gained weight even if she could barely keep anything down. Oh, the perks of being pregnant with a Laurent seed. That was one venue I wouldn’t dare explore. I popped birth control pills like they were Pez candies.
I took the seat between Gerard and Jewel. Mateo was across from me, and so were a few of our new staff members, Nica’s assistant, Jewel’s assistant, and my own new assistant whose name I hadn’t committed to memory yet. None of my assistants lasted. Nica told me it was due to the stress I’d put them through. Hey, as I always said, if you can’t take the heat, work in the Arctic. I was sure Santa had comparable pay and benefits.
I tried to pay attention. I really did. But Alex kept sending me photo messages, all bordering on pornographic. When my phone wasn’t buzzing because of him, the call from an unknown number would cause it to. Those I readily ignored. I had voicemail. If it was important enough, they could leave a message.
Too often, I would stifle a snicker at the tags Alex added with his suggestive pictures. I’d hide behind my hand and fake a cough. Concerned looks came my way. If I didn’t discipline myself, the jig would be up.
One of our interns brought in lunch as soon as our meeting was over. I brought mine to my office, mostly so I could ogle Alex’s photos without arousing any more suspicions.
When he stopped texting me, I’d finally focused on a bit of work. Right in the middle of typing up an event contract, my assistant knocked on my door. I scowled at her when she stepped in. She forcibly trie
d to make herself look smaller, which was difficult for her since she was as tall as me. But she was younger, and I was her boss.
“Nica would like me to remind you that she’d like you to be present at the meeting with new clients this afternoon,” she said, keeping her hand on the doorknob, ready to bolt anytime.
Two, three seconds more, I let her squirm. Nica would tell me off later. I knew why she’d sent the girl in. She wanted to test her to see how long she’d last with me. I’d give her two more days before she quit.
“What time are the clients coming?” I asked, propping my feet over my desk. I pulled out my makeup kit to re-apply my eye-liner and lipstick.
“Ahm...” She looked down at the tablet in her hand. Big mistake, she should know this by now.
I got up, taking my phone with me, and slamming my makeup back on the desk. She jumped. “Forget it. I’ll head there now. Clean this up for me, will you?”
She stammered. Across the way, I could see Nica watching through the glass walls of her office, hands propped on her hips and shaking her head at me. I shrugged as I headed to her.
“Why do you give Stephanie a hard time?” She wagged a finger at me as soon as I stepped through the door. She’d make a good mother. The Laurent kid she was carrying would cause her headaches for sure, like the little bugger’s uncle had given me.
“Stephanie? That’s her name? I thought it was Joanne.” I headed over to her desk, examining her half-eaten sandwich.
Nica sighed as she waddled to her chair. She looked like she’d swallowed a large watermelon. “Joanne was your assistant two months ago. Stephanie is sweet. In fact, they all are.”
“Even the one who set fire to my chair?” I challenged her.
She cringed. “Okay, maybe not all of them are, but you do tend to bring the demon out of people.”
I popped a piece of bread in my mouth, ignoring her comment. “So who are these new clients?”
She tapped on her keyboard, and paid attention to her screen. “Not sure. They’re from out of town. The woman said she saw my wedding spread and had to meet with us. They should be here in a few minutes.”
“Good. So I have time to finish your lunch?” I propped my butt over her desk, as she sent me a glare. It lasted about two seconds, then she waved her hand away. “What event?” I asked before taking a large bite of her sandwich. I was famished for one reason: I needed the energy to face Alex again.
“Wedding.” Nica continued to type on her computer. Every now and then, she’d give her belly a rub.
As I chugged the rest of my, er...Nica’s juice, she stood and waved. “Oh, I think they’re here. Get off my desk, Chase.”
“Fine.” I bumped off the desk, not paying attention to whoever had come in.
I wiped a thumb over the corner of my lips when I heard it: a voice I hadn’t heard in ten years, calling out a name I thought I’d never ever hear again. “Chastity!”
The blood drained from my face and my eyes widened as I turned away from Nica, and faced Georgia-Anne Buford. “Mom?” I croaked around the lump forming in my throat.
“Mom?” Nica gasped behind me, but my attention was focused on the woman who had given birth to me. Her arms were wide open as she sashayed in her rose pink bouclé suit, pearl necklace and earrings. Her blonde curls bounced over her shoulders.
Suddenly, I was enveloped in Nina Ricci perfume.
“It is you!” My mother wrapped me in the tightest hug, which I could swear she’d done to make my eyes pop out of their sockets. When she let go, she looked me over with a slight grimace on her face. “Oh, look at what you did to your hair.” She tutted, pushing my black hair off my cheeks and tucking it behind my ears. “And why are you in all black? Were you at a funeral, dear?” Georgia-Anne pursed her lips and patted both my cheeks.
There was a clearing of a throat, and the shock of seeing my mother was replaced by the disheartening sight of my father standing behind her. “Daddy,” I mouthed, choking on the word. A prickling of tears threatened behind my eyes. Not now. I am not going to cry!
When he shifted on one foot, my knees buckled. I had to grab the desk behind me for support. The lunch I’d demolished earlier swirled in my stomach, gurgling up to a threat of projectile vomit. The pressure in my head made it feel like it was in between clamps.
Rigidly standing in the doorway, with his hands fisted on his sides, was no other than Daniel Thompson.
He strutted toward me in a way that was confident and predatory. Ten years had done a lot to him. From where I stood, it looked like they were all good. He’d always been tall, but his wiry frame had been replaced with a toned body. His hair was darker and cut stylishly.
As he got closer, I noticed the fine lines running through his forehead, and the slight darkening around his eyes. But there was no doubt in my mind that it was him, Danny. My Danny.
In those hazel eyes, I saw the same look I had seen ten years ago, when I’d left him on the day of our wedding.
My body shook with fear, anxiety or excitement—I wasn’t sure which. My pulse raced, and the ringing in my ears made its presence known.
The parents I hadn’t seen in a decade were now standing before me. Not only that, they’d dragged Danny with them. I stared at him with bewildered eyes. I was wary of where his hands were, rising slowly. He could choke me, slap me, and I wouldn’t blame him. I wouldn’t even stop him.
Yet, as my chest gurgled with sharp breaths, I swayed in tune to the beating of his heart, and the hint of musk from his cologne. This was Danny, my Danny. My body knew him. My heart remembered him.
His hands made their way around my neck, stopping at the nape, before he, ever so gently, angled his head and covered my lips with his. I was lost in that sensation, in the memories the touch of his lips conveyed. Danny’s kiss whisked me back the person I once was.
I had been young, naïve, and utterly in love.
“Ahm...Chase?” Nica’s voice brought me back to the present. Still wrapped in Danny’s strong, almost possessive arms, I heard her shuffle around. “I’m Veronica, her business partner.”
Danny chose that moment to release me. I stood dumbfounded, still unwilling to let go of the desk while my mother blinked invisible tears from her eyes. Where did I even begin?
I faced Nica, but avoided her gaze. “These are my parents, Walter and Georgia-Anne Buford. And this is...” How did I describe Danny?
Danny saved me and introduced himself, stretching out a hand to Nica, “Daniel Thompson.”
“Thompson?” Nica’s eyes flitted to me—letting me know I was in a lot of trouble with her—as she shook hands with Danny. The fact that I’d been using his last name for the past ten years piqued her interest. Then she turned to my parents. “Mr. and Mrs. Buford, welcome to San Francisco. You mentioned you’re from out of town, where from exactly?” Nica displayed no hint of anger or malice. She was calm—unlike me, who was quaking in my boots.
My mother covered her chest where her heart would be with clasped hands, and smiled. “Vermont, my dear, Stowe.”
“Stowe, Vermont?” Nica repeated, nodding her head. I was positive Nica was making a list for my comeuppance.
I glanced at my father, who had stayed quiet the entire time. He caught my gaze, and it was enough for me to choke down a sob. He looked older, tired, and beat. I could only imagine the amount of stress I’d put upon him, disappearing for ten years.
“Would you excuse us for a moment? There’s something quick I’d like to discuss with Cha—Chastity.” Nica, hands clasped, smiled brightly at my parents. “My assistant will take you to another room. Becky!” she called out and within seconds, Becky appeared. “Could you show them to the conference room please, and offer them some refreshments?”
“Sure thing. Hi,” Becky greeted my parents. “This way please.”
My mother patted me on the cheek, while my father nodded once before leaving. Danny leaned over and kissed me chastely on the lips. Nica closed the door behind them, and t
ouched the glass, turning it from clear to frosted (perk of having a wealthy husband—cool office doors).
“What the hell is going on? Chase? Chastity? Daniel? Vermont?” Nica waved her hands frantically.
Head hanging, I rubbed my temples as I took a seat on her sofa. “I know. I know. I can explain.”
She joined me on the sofa, sitting precariously on the edge. “Please do. I thought your parents were dead?”
Yup, I might have said that, and followed it with ‘I don’t really want to talk about it.’ And Nica never pushed the topic.
“You’re from Vermont? Not Texas?”
I nodded, “My daddy’s from Texas. I was born and grew up in Vermont.” Then I covered my face with my hands.
Nica sighed. “I thought it was weird that you didn’t really have a drawl…And Daniel Thompson? Thompson? Chase, are you…married?” She whispered the last word.
“No,” I mumbled in my hands, then looked at her, pleading with my eyes for her to understand. “We were...are...engaged.” My brows drew together.
“Were? Are? Which one is it?”
“I’m not really sure. We were going to get married, but I left.”
Nica’s eyes widened when she straightened and gasped. “You didn’t leave him at the altar, did you?”
I leaned back, my head lolling on the sofa cushions. “No. I left the morning before the ceremony.”
“What? But you’re...you would have been sixteen at the time. Was that even legal in Vermont?”
Sixteen. Another of my lies. I wondered if Nica was keeping count. “I wasn’t sixteen. I’m not twenty-six, Nica. I’m twenty-nine.” I trained my eyes on her, wracked in fear of losing my best friend.
“Oh my God.” She stared at me, trying to read my face. “Is your birthday even June sixteenth, or have we been celebrating someone else’s birthday too?”
“No, that’s my birthday.” I turned my head, and silently begged her for forgiveness.
Nica stood, squared off her shoulders, and held out her hand. “Hi, I’m Veronica Laurent, née Soto-Stewart. My father died when I was five, and my mother lives in Fresno, where my sister and I were born and raised.”
Chasing the Runaway Bride (Bliss Series Book 3) Page 6
