Lost Without You: Book 2 in the Chasing Olivia Series

by Jillian Anselmi

  “If you get tired, there is a valve in the front,” Chase whispers, pointing to a brass nozzle. “Blow in this and it puts air in the vest. Just in case. I don’t want anything happening to you.” He places a tender kiss on my lips and turns to put on a vest as well.

  We are directed to the back of the boat and I take a seat on one bench while Chase sits across from me. I watch him put on his flippers and follow his lead.

  Matt picks up a mask from a crate in the center of the boat. “Make sure the snorkel is on the left side of your mask when you put it on,” he says, motioning to his left. “It’s more comfortable that way.” I watch Matt with rapt attention, wanting to make sure I get this right. There’s muffled laughter from in front of me. Tilting my head past Matt, I find Chase smiling at me, and he chuckles again. That prick is laughing at me. How would I know which side to put it on? I scowl at him, which makes him laugh even harder. Narrowing my eyes, he coughs and looks down at his feet. Bastard.

  Matt hands me a mask. “I need you to try this on first, see if it fits. Hold your breath, gently place the mask up against your face, and press very slightly.” He demonstrates with his own mask without putting it on. “Now, let go of the mask with your hands. A well-fitting mask will stick to your face without you having to hold it in place.”

  I do as instructed, but the mask falls to the deck with a thud. He hands me another one. “The better the mask seals to your face, the less likely you’ll have any leaks when moving your head in the water,” he states, matter-of-fact.

  The second mask feels tighter around my face than the first, reminding me of a suction cup attached to a window, and stays put. I look over at Chase to see Billy handing him multiple masks. After trying on five, he seems to find one he likes.

  I take the mask in my hand and go to stand. Now I know what a penguin feels like. Taking one careful step at a time, I shuffle across the deck, skimming my feet across the rocking boat.

  The water level platform has two large ladders that make it easy to get in and out of the water. The benches are on either side of the boat, which allows you to walk down the center. “Watch,” Chase says as he starts down the ladder. Placing his back to the boat, he takes a seat on the edge, and I follow his lead, carefully placing my feet on the rungs. Reaching the platform, I sit next to Chase and let my feet dangle in the water. Chase turns toward me with his mask in hand, waiting for me to follow suit.

  “You don’t need to spit in these masks, they have an anti-fogging agent,” Matt says to Chase.

  “Spit?” I ask.

  Chase chuckles. “Yeah, if you rub spit on the inside of regular goggles, it keeps them from fogging up.”

  “Oh.”

  Smiling, Chase applies his mask. I watch and repeat what he is doing. He straightens it out and makes sure the snorkel is attached. Billy leans over to make sure my snorkel is secure. I look over at Chase.

  “Ready?” he asks. Nodding my head, he stands and pushes himself from the ladder. “It’s easy, nothing to it,” he encourages. I follow, staying close by his side.

  Wading in the water, I kick my feet leisurely as I enjoy the warmth of the ocean. About ten feet from the boat, Chase stops moving forward, places his snorkel in his mouth, and motions for me to do the same. He points in a direction away from the boat and I follow.

  We swim about 500 yards before coming across the coral reef. A smile spreads across my face and my heart flutters, knowing Chase brought me here to share this amazing sight with me. Chase dives toward the bottom while I stay at the surface, watching him sink into the shallows. Finding something of interest, he places it in his one of the two pockets in the front of his vest.

  Continuing to swim over the massive reef, I watch the anemone sway like flowers in the wind. Brilliantly colored fish dip in and out of view, hiding among the coral. Giant starfish crawl along the bottom, and I’m momentarily startled as a manta ray swims directly under me.

  Chase grazes my shoulder as he swims up from behind me. Reaching over, he takes my hand in his, intertwining his fingers with mine. It is the most comfortable thing, swimming hand in hand with Chase.

  He continues his dives toward the bottom, releasing my hand when he goes, but grasping it when he surfaces. Finally, I get the nerve to dive down with him. Looking over, Chase smiles as we glide through the crystal clear water.

  He shows me things I’ve never seen outside an aquarium before, let alone touched. Handing me a starfish, it’s suction cup feet stick to my hand as it walks across my palm. Growing tired, I tug at Chase’s hand, signaling toward the boat. Nodding in agreement, we drift back to our awaiting ride.

  Chase gets on first and reaches down to help me up the ladder. Once on board, we strip off the mask and flippers and place them in the crate. Matt comes over to take our vests while Danny hands us each a glass of champagne and places a platter of mixed fruit on the bench next to us. I look over at Chase and he just shrugs, giving me that panty-busting, lopsided grin.

  The boat crawls across the still water, the captain taking his time getting back. Sitting beside me, Chase caresses the back of my neck, stroking side to side with his thumb. Goose bumps scatter across my arms as he teases, my shoulders slumping as I relax, my head lying on his chest.

  “Did you enjoy your day?” he murmurs, his lips moving against my forehead.

  “Mmhmm,” I mumble, my head tucked in his armpit. “This was the perfect day, and something I wouldn’t have thought of. Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome. You know I would give you the world if I could.”

  I turn my head to look up at him. “I just want you.”

  “Well, I have more plans for later,” he murmurs before latching his lips onto my earlobe.

  “More?” I ask, chills running down my spine from his breath on my neck.

  “Oh, yes,” he whispers against my ear. “Much more.”

  Back at the hotel, I rummage through my suitcase, searching for something to wear. Before heading to his room, Chase told me to take a shower and dress for dinner, but he wouldn’t elaborate on where we were going. Finding a white halter top dress that comes to just above my knees, I pull it from my bag and hold it in front of me. Not too short for fancy, not too long for casual—it’s perfect.

  A knock at my hotel door tells me Chase is here. I unlock the door, let him in, and run my eyes up and down his body. Fuck, he is so hot. Dressed in linen, you can still see the contours of his perfect chest through the flowing fabric. Licking my bottom lip, my eyes are drawn to his perfect mouth, my breath hitching as he draws closer.

  Pulling me into his arms, he buries his nose in my curly hair. “Mmm, you smell so good,” he breathes before pulling back just enough to look down his nose at me. “And that dress . . . God, you look amazing.” His eyes are black with need and my face tingles as it reddens under his gaze. “It would only look better crumpled up on my bedroom floor,” he purrs. Biting my bottom lip, I press my legs together in an attempt to fight the need I’m feeling.

  “Chase . . .” I start to whimper, but he stops me.

  “I know. Me, too, but I have plans.”

  “Uh. .uh huh,” I stutter, my mind focused on his unsaid promises.

  “We have all night, baby.” But I want him right here, right now, and it’s taking everything in me not to jump him. I squirm and he chuckles. Leaning down, he kisses me softly. “C’mon. Dinner, remember?”

  Thirty minutes later, we pull up to a small, yellow building resembling a house, with bright blue awnings covered in fish. The sign on the front reads Pisces, A Seafood Place. Chase takes my hand and leads me to the entrance.

  As we enter the restaurant, a beautiful blonde hostess greets us. “Hello, do you have a reservation?” she asks, the tone of her voice as fake as her hair.

  “No,” Chase replies. “Do you have a table for two?”

  “It will be about fifteen minutes,” she mumbles, looking at her reservation book.

  “Fine, we’ll be at the bar,” Chase
says.

  As we make our way to the middle of the restaurant, I’m surprised by how different the inside looks from the outside. The restaurant itself is very light and airy. Trendy too, with Andy Warhol’s work spattering the walls. There are tall, round archways throughout, giving the space a softer edge. We walk up to the L-shaped, white marble topped bar and stand toward the corner.

  Turning to me, Chase asks, “Olivia, what would you like?” I think for a moment. I have been drinking champagne all afternoon, so I don’t think I need another alcoholic beverage. On second thought, I have no idea what he has planned for later. Maybe I do need a drink.

  “I’ll have a glass of wine. Sauvignon Blanc, please.”

  “Sounds good.” He turns to the beautiful blonde behind the bar. “Do you have a wine list?” She smiles brightly, reaching over to grab a menu. Placing it in front of Chase, she eyes him up and down, looking a little too closely. I squint my eyes and silently seethe.

  Opening the large menu, he runs his left index finger down the page. He tilts his head subtly and strums his right thumb across his sexy lips. “We’ll take number two-twenty-one,” he says, still looking at the menu. He turns to me and grins, and I can’t help but smile back. He edges slightly closer to me so our legs are touching, his left hand on the small of my back.

  The bartender scurries off and comes back with a bottle of Alphonse Mellot 2006 Cuvée Edmond Sauvignon Blanc. After getting a nod from Chase, she brings over two glasses and places them on the bar top.

  Stroking down the side of the glass, she goes through the show of opening the bottle and gives Chase the tasting. He takes a sip and nods. She pours wine into my glass, and then fills his. He picks up his glass and gives a nod for me to as well.

  “To a lovely evening,” he toasts.

  We clink glasses and take sips of our wine.

  “So, Chase, where did you go to school?” I ask, wanting to know more about him. We got together so fast, we didn’t really take the time to learn many details about each other. He looks at me, a funny expression on his face. “I know you went to Harvard, but where did you go before that? I went to Connetquot.”

  “Oh,” he breathes. “I went to public school until eighth grade. Locust Valley School District. My father wanted me to go to an Ivy League school, so he enrolled me in the Dalton School in Manhattan when I hit high school. Dalton practically guaranteed my admission to anywhere I wanted to go. I graduated top of my class and went to Harvard for both my undergraduate and graduate degrees for law.”

  “Wow,” is all I can mutter. I knew about the law school part, but I never knew he went to private school.

  “Yeah, my dad was pretentious.”

  “Did you like Harvard?” I ask between sips.

  “It was interesting,” he murmurs. “It was like a giant pissing contest to see who could get the best grades. The better your grades, the better your chances of interning at a big law firm. I didn’t need to showboat. I knew where I was going.” He gives me a sly wink.

  The blonde hostess comes over to announce our table is ready. Chase nods and moves to grab the bottle of wine, but the pretty bartender reaches for it at the same time and their hands touch. She blushes. He smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “No, let me,” she says, her voice breathy. Chase shrugs and takes my hand. Grabbing the bottle and a marble wine chiller, she follows us to our table. Chase is totally oblivious to her charms, causing me to inwardly smile.

  The hostess brings us to a small corner table near the back of the restaurant. Chase and I sit next to each other and the flirty bartender places the wine chiller directly in front of Chase. “Do you need anything else?” she asks.

  “No, I think we’re good here,” he answers, placing his hand on my thigh. She gives a half smile and nods, then goes back behind the bar with her tail between her legs. “What are you in the mood for this evening,”Chase asks, turning to me, his eyes filled with mischief. Lifting my brow at him for a moment, I ignore his innuendo and look down at the menu.

  “I need to look at the menu first,” I say into the pages, a ghost of a smile appearing on my lips. He strums the inside of my thigh, making me twitch.

  “We’ll, I know what I want,” he hums, stroking slow and steady. Looking up from my menu, my eyes meet his. His eyes, sparkling like storm clouds right before lightning strikes, are dilated and fixed on me.

  “How is the halibut?” I squeak, barely able to speak.

  With a sly smirk, he shakes his head and chuckles. “Very good, but you need to try the lobster tango mango.”

  “Is that what you are having?” I ask, still flustered.

  “Yes.”

  “Well, then, I’ll just have some of yours.” I peek up over my menu through my lashes and give him a mischievous smile. His lips twitch, trying to hide the smile that’s buried there.

  “We’ll see about that,” he quips, caving in and smiling wide. I love this playful side of his, how could I not? He has the most amazing smile. His eyes get this bright blue and he has a dimple that pops out—it’s adorable.

  We place our menus at the edge of the table and a tall waiter walks over a few moments later. “Good evening,” he says, looking at me. “My name is Brayden, I’ll be your server. Are you ready to order?” he asks, smiling.

  “I believe we are,” Chase answers. “Ladies first,” he concedes.

  “I’ll try the halibut,” I murmur.

  “Great choice,” Brayden says with a smile. Chase squeezes my thigh lightly.

  “I’ll have the lobster mango tango,” he says, his tone clipped. Brayden writes the order down, nods, and walks away. Chase scoots a little closer, takes his hand off my thigh, and places it on top of my hand on the table. I chuckle and take a sip of my wine.

  “What’s so funny?” Chase whispers, slightly affronted, making me giggle even more.

  “Nothing,” I say innocently.

  “Really?” he mouths at me. I give him a great big smile. He shakes his head and picks up the bottle of wine to top us off. “So, since this is apparently a confessional, what else do you want to know?” he asks.

  “It’s just . . .” I stutter, “we really don’t know each other.”

  “What’s to know?”

  “I don’t know. Like, what is your favorite color?”

  “Green.”

  “Mine, too,” I say, smiling. “What about your favorite food? You already know mine.” He chuckles and I think back to that perfect dinner at Davis. Chicken Francaise and creamed spinach topped with Crème Brûlée.

  “Yeah, thank the Lord for Brenda,” he says, smiling wide.

  “I knew she was involved, clever minx.”

  “I don’t know if I have a favorite food. Style, maybe. I love French food, and good Italian.”

  “Can you cook Italian as well as you cook French?”

  “I guess. Carla, our personal chef, showed me a lot of dishes. Her family owned a few restaurants in Northern Italy before she came over.”

  “Okay, so let me rephrase the question. What is your favorite food to cook?”

  “That’s a good question,” he murmurs as he picks up the bottle of wine out of the chiller. “I like making pasta. Tastes so much better fresh than store bought.”

  “Holy shit, you know how to make pasta?”I ask, ecstatic at the prospect of fresh ravioli or lasagna.

  “When we get home, I’ll make you whatever you want.”

  “I can’t get over the fact that you can cook! Homemade pasta would be amazing. Evan, that prick, wouldn’t lift a finger, even if it meant he would starve. I did everything. I was often referred to by my friends as a Stepford wife.”

  A frown crosses his face briefly. Shaking it off, he says, “For you, anything.” Bringing my hand up to his mouth, he places a feather-light kiss to the back of it.

  Brayden appears with our entrées, placing them on the table in front of us. “Let me know if you need anything else.” He smiles at me as he speaks, ignoring Chase.

/>   “Yes, we will. Thank you,” Chase says, dismissing him. Brayden nods and walks away.

  “Wow, this looks amazing,” I murmur with the excitement of a child.

  “Wait till you taste it.” He smiles at me as he picks up his fork and digs in.

  “Mmm,” is all I manage to say.

  “Here,” Chase thrusts a fork full of lobster in my direction. I open my mouth and he slides it across my lips. “What do you think?” he whispers seductively.

  “Wow. This is so good.”

  After we finish eating, Chase pays the check and we walk hand in hand out of the restaurant. “C’mon, I have another surprise for you,” he says, heading northeast down Simonton street. “Where are we going?” I ask, genuinely intrigued.

  “So impatient,” he admonishes. “You will have to wait and see.” He squeezes my hand.

  Chase turns us left down Greene Street, one of the main drags across the Key. The streets are packed and we weave in between groups, Chase never letting go of my hand.

  A right on Fitzpatrick, which turns into Tifts Street once you cross Front street, then a left on Wall street—where is he taking me?

  “We’re here,” he says, answering my unspoken question.

  “Where is here?”

  “Mallory Square.” He leads me down a stone path to the water. The square is bustling with tourists from the cruise ships docked not too far from here. “This is the best view of the sunset, and I wanted to share that with you.” He spins me toward him and places a gentle kiss on my lips.

  Looking up at him, I whisper, “It’s beautiful.”

  “There’s more, watch.”

  There are people gathered in groups up and down the dock, watching flame-tossing jugglers, a sword swallower, tightrope walkers, an exotic trained bird show, and Golden Elvis with his sidekick, Silver Man. A man starts playing the bagpipes and people immediately join into the show, singing along.

  Over a small footbridge next to us, the acts continue. “Some of the most intriguing and locally famous acts, such as Dominique and His Flying House Cats, perform here,” Chase murmurs. It’s like a giant circus without the tent.