by Paula Roe
“No.” He nodded to the high chairs at the end of the table. “Do you want me to strap Erin in?”
“Please. I’ll get Heather.”
One more little piece of the puzzle so grudgingly given, Vanessa thought as she walked into the living room. How on earth did he ever get close to anyone, make a connection, when he was so suspicious of everyone’s intentions?
The answer was obvious—he didn’t.
And that made her a little sad.
“Come on, baby,” she cooed at Heather, then scooped her up from the playpen.
“Do you need me to do anything?” Chase asked from the doorway.
“If you could set the table that’d be good.”
“Done.”
As he laid out the plates and cutlery, Vanessa removed the steaming lamb from the oven. Over her shoulder, she could hear him talking with the girls and she smiled.
Chase Harrington was turning out to be one big, honking surprise after another.
As usual, dinner turned out to be totally Erin-and-Heather-focused: a messy, vocal affair that seemed to hold Chase’s attention for the duration, she noticed. He watched her feed the girls in part bemusement, part analytical scrutiny, and Vanessa was aware of his gaze the entire time.
The topic of dinner conversation started on neutral ground—work—when Vanessa wasn’t making eyes at Erin and Heather, making exaggerated faces and gently encouraging them to eat. But as they began to relax and Chase let down his guard a minuscule inch, she got a glimpse of the real person behind the polished exterior. A guy with a fantastic knowledge of movies and composers, an amazing aptitude for figures and facts and a deep, burning drive to succeed. A guy who automatically wiped a splash of apple from Heather’s cheek with a smile. A guy with whom the girls seemed perfectly content.
A guy who, despite the evening’s conversation, was still very much a mystery.
She slid him a glance as Heather took her final spoonful of pureed apple. Whatever he was assessing, she hoped she passed. She sensed that, once his mind was made up, Chase would stick by that verdict.
She also suddenly realized that she cared what he thought of her. She really shouldn’t—he was just one man, and a gazillionaire at that, a guy she probably wouldn’t have met under normal circumstances. But he’d somehow wormed his way under her skin, tugging at her compassion, making her smile, making her care.
And let’s not forget he makes you hot and bothered.
Yes, she’d quickly found herself intrigued by the light and shadow that was Chase Harrington.
“So what made you choose finance as a career?” Vanessa asked as she wiped Erin’s high chair down.
Chase was stacking the dishwasher and she ran her eyes appreciatively over those wide shoulders and back, then down to the trim waist.
Very nice…
“Money.” He closed the door and turned and she barely managed to refocus her gaze someplace G-rated. “I wanted to make lots of money.”
A loud burp split the air and they both laughed.
“Good girl, Erin!” Vanessa exclaimed then added to Chase, “Your family…they didn’t have very much growing up?”
“Oh, they had enough.”
At her confusion, Chase said slowly, “My father was a minor local celebrity. He owned the biggest bed store in the county and ran a regular ad on the local TV station.”
“Sounds interesting.”
“Oh, it was something, all right.”
At her confused look, he added wryly, “Let’s just say his loud, cheesy ads did not improve my high school experience.”
“Oh.” Vanessa winced. “Not good, huh?”
“‘Let me get you into a bed!’” he boomed out in an exaggerated Texan drawl.
“Excuse me?”
“That was his catch-cry. Mad Max Harrington of Mad Max’s Beds. It was…excruciating.” He eyed her, his face unreadable as another fragment of the puzzle fell into place. Then he promptly changed the subject. “So, you do origami?”
At her questioning gaze, he nodded toward her living room. “The stack of paper, plus I noticed two new animals on the shelf. A bird and a bear, right?”
“Koala and kookaburra, actually.” She smiled. “My parents’ last housekeeper taught me. It’s my creative outlet after a day of boisterous kids.”
“You’re very good. Must take a lot of patience.”
“And nimble fingers.” She wiggled her digits for emphasis as she walked into the living room with Erin and placed her in the playpen. “Needlework and knitting never appealed, my musical skills are just bearable, and I can’t write or paint. So origami it is.” She began wiping Heather’s chair down, then her face.
He had his hands in his pants pockets, leaning against her counter and looking so intimately at home amongst her things that she felt a sudden fierce urge to go up and touch him, to see if his jaw was as hard as it looked, then take a deep breath and fill her lungs with his seductive male scent.
Wow. Where had that come from?
She lifted Heather out, her warm cheek pressed against her baby’s hot little body.
Hormones. That’s all.
“So what do you do when you’re not buying expensive manuscripts?” she said, putting her daughter gently on the floor.
“I work.”
“Apart from that.”
He gave an amused snort. “That’s about it.”
“What about winding down?”
He paused, thinking. “I run.”
Now she was getting somewhere. “Just for fun or…?”
“I’ve done a couple of half marathons when work permits.” He watched her go through the motions with Heather, grinning when the baby let loose a champion burp. “And I collect a few things—some art, sculptures, a few books.”
“Books?” Vanessa eyed the toddling Heather, who was studiously batting at a magnetic toy stuck to the fridge door.
“First editions for the investment. But I read novels for pleasure.”
“I would’ve thought you’d be too busy.”
“It’s amazing how much time you waste at airports. Plus, I’ve loved books ever since I learned to read. It’s important to make time for things that give you great pleasure.”
She scrutinized him for a moment then shook her head with a soft sigh. “You are so not what I expected, Chase Harrington.”
“Which was?”
“A bigheaded, arrogant, money-hungry fat cat.”
He smiled, his direct gaze holding hers, warming her from the inside out for long seconds. “And you are not what I expected either.”
She raised one eyebrow. “Do tell.”
“A stuck-up, spoiled, better-than-you princess.” His grin took the sting out, but only just. Is that how he’d seen her?
“But I do have a trust fund,” she reminded him.
“And a BMW from your father.”
“Ooh, now you’re ruining it.” She winced, then bent to pick up Heather.
“Sorry.”
“Apology accepted.” She walked toward the playpen and leaned in to scoop up Erin. “Time for a wash and change.”
When she thought now would be a perfect time for Chase to make his excuses and leave, he surprised her by simply nodding. “I’ll make coffee. How do you take it?”
“You don’t have to stay, you know.”
His eyebrows went up. “Is that your way of asking me to leave?”
“No, I… Wow, that did sound terribly rude, didn’t it? I just meant this is probably a little boring for you, so if you want to go…”
“Vanessa, I assure you, I am not bored. Now, coffee?”
She blinked, giving him a small smile. “Milk, no sugar.”
He nodded. “Okay, then.”
She bathed the girls in record time, dressed them in their pajamas then walked into the living room as the wonderful smell of coffee permeated the air.
He nodded to the cups on the coffee table. “All done.” His gaze automatically went to Erin as s
he swayed unsteadily towards the furniture. “Good thing you have corner protectors on that coffee table. It looks just the right height to do some damage.”
Vanessa nodded. “Yep. Heather, right here.” She pointed to the middle of her forehead. “Once was enough.”
He took a seat while Vanessa scooped up a grumbling Heather.
“Okay, baby.” She sighed. “The playpen it is.”
She placed Heather in the pen and smiled as the girl promptly picked up a shape cube, sat and started to gnaw on it.
“She would spend every waking moment in there if I let her,” she said with a shake of her head as she reached for her coffee. “She loves it.”
“It’s probably a security thing.”
She looked up at him curiously. “What do you mean?”
“Four walls, enclosed space. It’s a defined, finite area, so she’s comfortable in it.”
When she remained silent, studying him, Chase felt like kicking himself. Dude—just because your head’s full of useless facts doesn’t mean you have to share them all.
Yet he had a feeling about this side of Vanessa, as if he could say practically anything and she’d listen without judgment or negativity. As opposed to the Vanessa of last night, when he’d felt his tongue tie up and his palms sweat just by being in her Perfect presence.
And that kiss…
Oh, man. He thought he’d managed to sufficiently ignore that dumb lapse in judgment, but obviously not. Who could ignore the way her lips had felt, her murmur of pleasure and the promise of what they could do to each other, naked and alone in bed?
He’d kissed women before—lots of women, once he’d gotten over his surprise that they’d wanted him. Vanessa was just another Perfect who happened to turn him on.
He had to stop with that. She may have started out as one of them, but she sure as hell wasn’t one now.
“You’re right,” Vanessa said suddenly.
He blinked. “Sorry?”
“The playpen. It’s like when babies are born—after forty weeks of a tight, enclosed space, they’re delivered into a huge, empty void. They need to be wrapped for the first few weeks to get used to the space.”
Chase nodded, his gaze leaving Heather to watch Erin edge her way around the couch, gripping the sturdy support with tiny hands. When she finally got to him, she clung firmly to his leg, her huge brown eyes staring straight up into his face.
“Up!”
He grinned. “Well, since you ask so nicely…”
She grinned back, raising her arms, and he obliged.
As Erin settled herself on his lap, the room fell into silence and for the first time in a long time, Chase wasn’t on the receiving end of pointless chatter just to fill it.
Silence was nice. More than nice. It was…something he couldn’t quite define. Comfortable, maybe? Yeah, comfortable.
He took in Vanessa, now lying stomach down on the floor and sticking her fingers through the playpen to tickle Heather’s toes, making them both giggle.
Maybe not “comfortable.” Vanessa’s neckline dipped, revealing the curves of her breasts and he quickly glanced away before slowly returning.
The view was way too tempting.
Yeah, stop.
Then he glanced down at Erin and his smile widened.
“Psst. Vanessa. Look.”
She looked over on the tail end of a grin, eyes creased and mouth wide and for a second, Chase felt something shift inside. Something warm and arousing and definitely unexpected.
Then her gaze landed on Erin and her face sort of crumpled.
Erin had clambered up into Chase’s lap and fallen asleep.
Oh, my. Vanessa’s insides constricted. That had to be the most adorable thing she’d seen—Chase with a goofy, perplexed smile, and Erin in her cute Winnie-the-Pooh onesie, chin tipped up, mouth slightly open and snoring gently.
She stifled a giggle.
“That’s hilarious,” she finally managed to say, pulling a strand of her hair from Heather’s eager fingers.
“Do you want me to put her in her crib?”
“If you don’t mind.”
He rose fluidly, his large hands cradling her daughter with firm confidence. She watched him walk down the hall, her mind a jumble of mixed emotions, before she scooped Heather up and followed him.
“Thanks,” she said. “I’ll be out in a moment.”
She took the time to completely focus on settling Heather, trying to ignore the scene she’d just witnessed in her living room, firmly refusing to read into it even though her heart had begun to thump in the most annoying way.
She saw fathers with their babies all the time. And every time it made her heart ache with part joy, part what-might-have-been. But with Chase and Erin…gosh, it was as if her insides had melted or something.
A deep, strange yearning rose, sending her thoughts off on crazy tangents before she firmly got them under control. Instead, she refocused on Heather and the Dixie Chicks song she’d been humming under her breath.
Ten minutes later, Heather was asleep and Vanessa padded quietly down the hall. To her surprise, Chase had his coat on.
“You’re going?” she blurted, cringing inwardly at how desperate that sounded.
Chase nodded. “I have an early flight tomorrow.”
“Okay.” There was no way she was going to ask him to stay. So instead, she opened the door and indicated he go first.
The cold air rushed up to greet them as they descended and Vanessa shivered, wrapping her cashmere hoodie tightly around her waist.
Chase unlocked the entrance door then turned to her. “Thank you for dinner. I haven’t had a meal like that in a long time.”
“You’re welcome. Erin and Heather seem to like you.”
“They’re cute girls. Very—” he searched for a word “—unscreamy.”
She laughed. “Oh, they can bring the roof down. Luckily I have forgiving neighbors.”
He grinned and Vanessa crossed her arms to combat the intimate warmth that quickly flared. “You’d make a great father, you know.”
His smile faltered for one second before he said, “Good night,” and leaned in, kissing her softly on the cheek.
Oh. Just a brief warm brush of those lips and it was over. Her disappointment must’ve shown, because when he pulled back a bare inch, he gave her a curious smile, then inhaled as if he was about to say something but then thought better of it.
“Chase…” His name on her lips came out all wrong, almost like an appeal, but she didn’t have time to fix it because in the next moment he bent forward again with a soft groan and really kissed her.
Oh, yes, it was as delicious, as exciting as she’d remembered. His mouth slid over her bottom lip, the generous swell of flesh warming, teasing, arousing. Again, her breath escaped in a familiar rush as her heart sped up. Her eyes fluttered closed and she let the moment take her.
The cold air from the open door goosebumping her flesh. His deliciously masculine scent teasing her senses. The ache in her calves where she’d stretched up with way too much eagerness.
They were joined only by their lips, his heavy breath mingling with hers as he slowly deepened the kiss. Her mouth opened willingly, allowing his tongue in to play and tease, sending her heart rocketing and a low throb begin in the pit of her belly.
She wanted this to go on forever, wanted this reckless, out-of-control feeling to carry her away and make her forget everything, just for a while. But even as she breathed him in, and her entire body started to heat up, he gently withdrew.
No…! She squeezed her eyes shut and tried to follow, but it was too late. Cold air rushed in to fill the empty space, grazing her lips and forcing her eyes open.
Dammit.
“Good night, Vanessa,” he repeated, but this time the rough timbre behind his farewell was unmistakable, as was the dark look in his eyes.
“Do you want to…” She hesitated, unable to form the words. Come back upstairs and stay the night.
>
She desperately wanted to say it, and if she were living another life, she would have. But she was a mom and her girls depended on her to set rules and boundaries.
As much as she wanted Chase, she would never compromise those principles to have him.
He made a soft sound, something halfway between a groan and a curse. “I have to go. I’ll call you.”
“Okay.”
When he walked out and down the porch steps Vanessa took a bolstering breath, the sharp night rushing into her lungs like a slap of reality. He wouldn’t call. Once he was in New York, wrapped up in his real life, there’d be no reason to.
He already had his answers and his manuscript.
With a sinking heart, she watched him walk down the path. But at the end, just inside the pool of light, he looked back at her with a smile that turned her insides to mush.
Maybe it was a good thing he wasn’t staying. Because she had this awful feeling she’d never want him to leave. And that was something she instinctively knew he would do, eventually.
Her father’s cutting words rang in her ears like harbingers of doom. Men like Chase Harrington wanted perfectly groomed, no-baggage, society-ready women. She’d been that once.
There was no way she could be that again.
Eight
Thirty thousand feet in the air, twenty minutes out of Georgia’s Atlanta airport and Chase finally looked away from the stocks report on his iPad to glance out the window.
The air was clear, the early-morning sun blinding. He squinted for a few seconds before pulling down the shade with a sigh.
The strange yearning that had dogged his departure last night hadn’t eased up. It confused him.
Chase Harrington hated confusion.
In his briefcase, bound and boxed in special acetate-free paper, lay Dunbar’s precious manuscript. Despite his turmoil, a small smile tugged at his lips. Sam was going to be speechless when Chase finally revealed the “special surprise” he’d been hinting at for the last week.
He’d been anticipating these few days with Mitch and Sam since the auction. It was a bittersweet feeling, wanting to see Sam again yet knowing every time he did, he was one step closer to…
His smile dipped to a frown. He had to be strong, had to suck it up and keep on going. This wasn’t about him, it was about Sam and what he wanted. A terminally ill nine-year-old didn’t need tears, or worry or fear. He needed strength, needed people to say it was okay. He needed hope, however futile the inevitable outcome.
