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She needed to change the subject. Now. “Saturday night at nine you have the charity ball at the Denver Art Museum.”
That didn’t erase the half-cocked smile from his face, but it did earn her a raised eyebrow. Suddenly, Chadwick Beaumont looked anything but tired or worn-down. Suddenly, he looked hot. Well, he was always hot—but right now? It wasn’t buried beneath layers of responsibility or worry.
Heat flushed Serena’s face, but she wasn’t entirely sure why one sincere compliment would have been enough to set her all aflutter. Oh, that’s right—she was pregnant. Maybe she was just having a hormonal moment.
“What’s that for, again? A food bank?”
“Yes, the Rocky Mountain Food Bank. They were this year’s chosen charity.”
Every year, the Beaumont Brewery made a big splash by investing heavily in a local charity. One of Serena’s job responsibilities was personally handling the small mountain of applications that came in every year. A Beaumont Brewery sponsorship was worth about $35 million in related funds and donations—that’s why they chose a new charity every year. Most of the non-profits could operate for five to ten years with that kind of money.
Serena went on. “Your brother Matthew planned this event. It’s the centerpiece of our fundraising efforts for the food bank. Your attendance will be greatly appreciated.” She usually phrased it as a request, but Chadwick had never missed a gala. He understood that this was as much about promoting the Beaumont Brewery name as it was about promoting a charity.
Chadwick still had her in his sights. “You chose this one, didn’t you?”
She swallowed. It was almost as if he had realized that the food bank had been an important part of her family’s survival—that they would have starved if they hadn’t gotten groceries and hot meals on a weekly basis. “Technically, I choose all the charities. It’s my job.”
“You do it well.” But before the second compliment could register, he continued, “Will Neil be accompanying you?”
“Um....” She usually attended these events with Neil. He mostly went to hobnob with movers and shakers, but Serena loved getting all dressed up and drinking champagne. Things she’d never thought possible back when she was a girl.
Things were different now. So, so different. Suddenly, Serena’s throat closed up on her. God, what a mess.
“No. He...” Try not to cry, try not to cry. “We mutually decided to end our relationship several months ago.”
Chadwick’s eyebrows jumped up so high they almost cleared his forehead. “Several months ago? Why didn’t you tell me?”
Breathe in, breathe out. Don’t forget to repeat.
“Mr. Beaumont, we usually do not discuss our personal lives at the office.” It came out pretty well—fairly strong, her voice only cracking slightly over the word personal. “I didn’t want you to think I couldn’t handle myself.”
She was his competent, reliable, loyal employee. If she’d told him that Neil had walked out after she’d confronted him about the text messages on his phone and demanded that he recommit to the relationship—by having a baby and finally getting married—well, she’d have been anything but competent. She might be able to manage Chadwick’s office, but not her love life.
Chadwick gave her a look that she’d seen before—the one he broke out when he was rejecting a supplier’s offer. A look that blended disbelief and disdain into a potent mix. It was a powerful look, one that usually made people throw out another offer—one with better terms for the Brewery.
He’d never looked at her like that before. It bordered on terrifying. He wouldn’t fire her for keeping her private life private, would he? But then everything about him softened as he leaned forward in his chair, his elbows on the table. “If this happened several months ago, what happened this weekend?”
“I’m sorry?”
“This weekend. You’re obviously upset. I can tell, although you’re doing a good job of hiding it. Did he...” Chadwick cleared his throat, his eyes growing hard. “Did he do something to you this weekend?”
“No, not that.” Neil might have been a jerk—okay, he was a cheating, commitment-phobic jerk—but she couldn’t have Chadwick thinking Neil had beaten her. Still, she was afraid to elaborate. Swallowing was suddenly difficult and she was blinking at an unusually fast rate. If she sat there much longer, she was either going to burst into tears or black out. Why couldn’t she get her lungs to work?
So she did the only thing she could. She stood and, as calmly and professionally as possible, walked out of the office. Or tried to, anyway. Her hand was on the doorknob when Chadwick said, “Serena, stop.”
She couldn’t bring herself to turn around and face him—to risk that disdainful look again, or something worse. So she closed her eyes. Which meant that she didn’t see him get up or come around his desk, didn’t see him walk up behind her. But she heard it—the creaking of his chair as he stood, the footsteps muffled by the thick Oriental rug. The warmth of his body as he stood close to her—much closer than he normally stood.
He placed his hand on her shoulder and turned her. She had no choice but to pivot, but he didn’t let go of her. Not entirely. Oh, he released her shoulder, but when she didn’t look up at him, he slid a single finger under her chin and raised her face. “Serena, look at me.”
She didn’t want to. Her face flushed hot from his touch—because that’s what he was doing. Touching her. His finger slid up and down her chin—if she didn’t know better, she’d say he was caressing her. It was the most intimate touch she’d felt in months. Maybe longer.
She opened her eyes. His face was still a respectable foot away from hers—but this was the closest they’d ever been. He could kiss her if he wanted and she wouldn’t be able to stop him. She wouldn’t stop him.
He didn’t. This close up, his eyes were such a fine blend of green and brown and flecks of gold. She felt some of her panic fade as she gazed up into his eyes. She was not in love with her boss. Nope. Never had been. Wasn’t about to start falling for him now, no matter how he complimented her or touched her. It wasn’t going to happen.
He licked his lips as he stared at her. Maybe he was as nervous as she was. This was several steps over a line neither of them had ever crossed.
But maybe...maybe he was hungry. Hungry for her.
“Serena,” he said in a low voice that she wasn’t sure she’d ever heard him use before. It sent a tingle down her back that turned into a shudder—a shudder he felt. The corner of his mouth curved again. “Whatever the problem is, you can come to me. If he’s bothering you, I’ll have it taken care of. If you need help or...” She saw his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed. His finger stroked the same square inch of her skin again and she did a whole lot more than shudder. “Whatever you need, it’s yours.”
She needed to say something here, something professional and competent. But all she could do was look at his lips. What would they taste like? Would he hesitate, waiting for her to take the lead, or would he kiss her as if he’d been dying to do for seven years?
“What do you mean?” She didn’t know what she wanted him to say. It should sound like an employer expressing concern for the well-being of a trusted employee—but it didn’t. Was he hitting on her after all this time? Just because Neil was a jerk? Because she was obviously having a vulnerable moment? Or was there something else going on there?
The air seemed to thin between them, as if he’d leaned forward without realizing it. Or perhaps she’d done the leaning. He’s going to kiss me, she realized. He’s going to kiss me and I want him to. I’ve always wanted him to.
He didn’t. He just ran his finger over her chin again, as if he were memorizing her every feature. She wanted to reach up and thread her fingers through his sandy hair, pull his mouth down to hers. Taste those lips. Feel more than just his finger.
“Serena, you’re my most trusted employee. You always have been. I want you to know that, whatever happens at the board meeting, I will take care of you. I won’t let them walk you out of this building without anything. Your loyalty will be rewarded. I won’t fail you.”
All the oxygen she’d been holding in rushed out of her with a soft “oh.”
It was what she needed to hear. God, how she needed to hear it. She might not have Neil, but all of her hard work was worth something. She wouldn’t have to think about going back on welfare or declaring bankruptcy or standing in line at the food pantry.
Then some of her good sense came back to her. This would be the time to have a business-professional response. “Thank you, Mr. Beaumont.”
Something in his grin changed, making him look almost wicked—the very best kind of wicked. “Better than sir, but still. Call me Chadwick. Mr. Beaumont sounds too much like my father.” When he said this, a hint of his former weariness crept into his eyes. Suddenly, he dropped his finger away from her chin and took a step back. “So, lawyers on Tuesday, Board of Directors on Wednesday, charity ball on Saturday?”
Somehow, Serena managed to nod. They were back on familiar footing now. “Yes.” She took another deep breath, feeling calmer.
“I’ll pick you up.”
So much for that feeling of calm. “Excuse me?”
A little of the wickedness crept back into his smile. “I’m going to the charity gala. You’re going to the charity gala. It makes sense that we would go to the charity gala together. I’ll pick you up at seven.”
“But...the gala starts at nine.”
“Obviously we’ll go to dinner.” She must have looked worried because he took another step back. “Call it...an early celebration for the success of your charity selection this year.”
In other words, don’t call it a date. Even if that’s what it sounded like. “Yes, Mr. Beau—” He shot her a hot look that had her snapping her mouth shut. “Yes, Chadwick.”
He grinned an honest-to-God grin that took fifteen years off his face. “There. That wasn’t so hard, was it?” Then he turned away from her and headed back to his desk. Whatever moment they’d just had, it was over. “Bob Larsen should be in at ten. Let me know when he gets here.”
“Of course.” She couldn’t bring herself to say his name again. Her head was too busy swimming with everything that had just happened.
She was halfway through the door, already pulling it shut behind her, when he called out, “And Serena? Whatever you need. I mean it.”
“Yes, Chadwick.”
Then she closed his door.
Two (#uf657ffbe-8e9c-5632-b608-49d0b8b22c04)
This was the point in his morning where Chadwick normally reviewed the marketing numbers. Bob Larsen was his handpicked Vice President of Marketing. He’d helped move the company’s brand recognition way, way up. Although Bob was closing in on fifty, he had an intrinsic understanding of the internet and social media, and had used it to drag the brewery into the twenty-first century. He’d put Beaumont Brewery on Facebook, then Twitter—never chasing the trend, but leading it. Chadwick wasn’t sure exactly what SnappShot did, beyond make pictures look scratched and grainy, but Bob was convinced that it was the platform through which to launch their new line of Percheron Seasonal Ales. “Targeting all those foodies who snap shots of their dinners!” he’d said the week before, in the excited voice of a kid getting a new bike for Christmas.
Yes, that’s what Chadwick should have been thinking about. He took his meetings with his department heads seriously. He took the whole company seriously. He rewarded hard work and loyalty and never, ever allowed distractions. He ran a damn tight ship.
So why was he sitting there, thinking about his assistant?
Because he was. Man, was he.
Several months.
Her words kept rattling around in his brain, along with the way she’d looked that morning—drawn, tired. Like a woman who’d cried her eyes out most of the weekend. She hadn’t answered his question. If that prick had walked out several months before—and no matter what she said about what ‘we decided,’ Chadwick had heard the ‘he’ first—what had happened that weekend?
The thought of Neil Moore—mediocre golf pro always trying to suck up to the next big thing every time Chadwick had met him—doing anything to hurt Serena made him furious. He’d never liked Neil. Too much of a leech, not good enough for the likes of Serena Chase. Chadwick had always been of the opinion that she deserved someone better, someone who wouldn’t abandon her at a party to schmooze a local TV personality like he’d witnessed Neil do on at least three separate occasions.
Serena deserved so much better than that ass. Of course, Chadwick had known that for years. Why was it bothering him so much this morning?
She’d looked so...different. Upset, yes, but there was something else going on. Serena had always been unflappable, totally focused on the job. Of course Chadwick had never done anything inappropriate involving her, but he’d caught a few other men assuming she was up for grabs just because she was a woman in Hardwick Beaumont’s old office. Chadwick had never done business with those men again—which, a few times, meant going with the higher-priced vendor. It went against the principles his father, Hardwick, had raised him by—the bottom line was the most important thing.
Hardwick might have been a lying, cheating bastard, but that wasn’t Chadwick. And Serena knew it. She’d said so herself.
That had to be why Chadwick had lost his mind and done something he’d managed not to do for eight years—touch Serena. Oh, he’d touched her before. She had a hell of a handshake, one that betrayed no weakness or fear, something that occasionally undermined other women in a position of power. But putting his hand on her shoulder? Running a finger along the sensitive skin under her chin?
Hell.
For a moment, he’d done something he’d wanted to do for years—engage Serena Chase on a level that went far beyond his scheduling conflicts. And for that moment, it’d felt wonderful to see her dark brown eyes look up at him, her pupils dilating with need—reflecting his desire back at him. To feel her body respond to his touch.
Some days, it felt like he never got to do what he wanted. Chadwick was the responsible one. The one who ran the family company and cleaned up the family messes and paid the family bills while everyone else in the family ran amuck, having affairs and one-night stands and spending money like it was going out of style.
Just that weekend his brother Phillip had bought some horse for a million dollars. And what did his little brother do to pay for it? He went to company-sponsored parties and drank Beaumont Beer. That was the extent of Phillip’s involvement in the company. Phillip always did exactly what he wanted without a single thought for how it might affect other people—for how it might affect the brewery.
Not Chadwick. He’d been born to run this company. It wasn’t a joke—Hardwick Beaumont had called a press conference in the hospital and held the newborn Chadwick up, red-faced and screaming, to proclaim him the future of Beaumont Brewery. Chadwick had the newspaper articles to prove it.
He’d done a good job—so good, in fact, that the Brewery had become the target for takeovers and mergers by conglomerates who didn’t give a damn for beer or for the Beaumont name. They just wanted to boost their companies’ bottom lines with Beaumont’s profits.
Just once, he’d done something he wanted. Not what his father expected or the investors demanded or Wall Street projected—what he wanted. Serena had been upset. He’d wanted to comfort her. At heart, it wasn’t a bad thing.
But then he’d remembered his father. And that Chadwick seducing his assistant was no better than Hardwick Beaumont seducing his secretary. So he’d stopped. Chadwick Beaumont was responsible, focused, driven, and in no way controlled by his baser animal instincts. He was better than that. He was better than his father.
Chadwick had been faithful while married. Serena had been with—well, he’d never been sure if Neil was her husband, live-in lover, boyfriend, significant other, life partner—whatever people called it these days. Plus, she’d worked for Chadwick. That had always held him back because he was not the apple that had fallen from Hardwick’s tree, by God.
All of these correct thoughts did not explain why Chadwick’s finger was hovering over the intercom button, ready to call Serena back into the office and ask her again what had happened this weekend. Selfishly, he almost wanted her to break down and cry on his shoulder, just so he could hold her.
Chadwick forced himself to turn back to his monitor and call up the latest figures. Bob had emailed him the analytics Sunday night. Chadwick hated wasting time having something he could easily read explained to him. He was no idiot. Just because he didn’t understand why anyone would take pictures of their dinner and post them online didn’t mean he couldn’t see the user habits shifting, just as Bob said they would.
This was better, he thought, as he looked over the numbers. Work. Work was good. It kept him focused. Like telling Serena he was taking her to the gala—a work function. They’d been at galas and banquets like that before. What difference did it make if they arrived in the same car or not? It didn’t. It was business related. Nothing personal.
Except it was personal and he knew it. Picking her up in his car, taking her out to dinner? Not business. Even if they discussed business things, it still wouldn’t be the same as dinner with, say, Bob Larsen. Serena usually wore a black silk gown with a bit of a fishtail hem and a sweetheart neckline to these things. Chadwick didn’t care that it was always the same gown. She looked fabulous in it, a pashmina shawl draped over her otherwise bare shoulders, a small string of pearls resting against her collarbone, her thick brown hair swept up into an artful twist.
No, dinner would not be business-related. Not even close.
He wouldn’t push her, he decided. It was the only compromise he could make with himself. He wasn’t like his father, who’d had no qualms about making his secretaries’ jobs contingent upon sex. He wasn’t about to trap Serena into doing anything either of them would regret. He would take her to dinner and then the gala, and would do nothing more than enjoy her company. That was that. He could restrain himself just fine. He’d had years of practice, after all.
Thankfully, the intercom buzzed and Serena’s normal, level voice announced that Bob was there. “Send him in,” Chadwick replied, thankful to have a distraction from his own thoughts.
He had to fight to keep his company. He had no illusions that the board meeting on Wednesday would go well. He was in danger of becoming the Beaumont who lost the brewery—of failing at the one thing he’d been raised to do.
He did not have time to be distracted by Serena Chase.
And that was final.
* * *
The rest of Monday passed without a reply from Neil. Serena was positive about this because she refreshed her email approximately every other minute. Tuesday started much the same. She had her morning meeting with Chadwick where, apart from when he asked her if everything was all right, nothing out of the ordinary happened. No lingering glances, no hot touches and absolutely no near-miss kisses. Chadwick was his regular self, so Serena made sure to be as normal as she could be.
Not to say it wasn’t a challenge. Maybe she’d imagined the whole thing. She could blame a lot on hormones now, right? So Chadwick had stepped out of his prescribed role for a moment. She was the one who’d been upset. She must have misunderstood his intent, that’s all.
Which left her more depressed than she expected. It’s not like she wanted Chadwick to make a pass at her. An intra-office relationship was against company policy—she knew because she’d helped Chadwick rewrite the policy when he first hired her. Flings between bosses and employees set the company up for sexual harassment lawsuits when everything went south—which it usually did.
But that didn’t explain why, as she watched him walk out of the office on his way to meet with the divorce lawyers with his ready-for-battle look firmly in place, she wished his divorce would be final. Just because the process was draining him, that’s all.
Sigh. She didn’t believe herself. How could she convince anyone else?
She turned her attention to the last-minute plans for the gala. After Chadwick returned to the office, he’d meet with his brother Matthew, who was technically in charge of planning the event. But a gala for five hundred of the richest people in Denver? It was all hands on deck.
The checklist was huge, and it required her full attention. She called suppliers, tracked shipments and checked the guest list.
She ate lunch at her desk as she followed up on her contacts in the local media. The press was a huge part of why charities competed for the Beaumont sponsorship. Few of these organizations had an advertising budget. Beaumont Brewery put their name front and center for a year, getting television coverage, interviews and even fashion bloggers.
She had finished her yogurt and wiped down her desk by the time Chadwick came back. He looked terrible—head down, hands jammed into his pockets, shoulders slumped. Oh, no. She didn’t even have to ask to know that the meeting had not gone according to plan.
He paused in front of her desk. The effort to raise his head and meet her eyes seemed to take a lot out of him. Serena gasped in surprise at how lost he looked. His eyes were rimmed in red, like he hadn’t slept in days.
She wanted to go to him—put her arms around him and tell him it’d all work out. That’s what her mom had always done when things didn’t pan out, when Dad lost his job or they had to move again because they couldn’t make the rent.
The only problem was, she’d never believed it when she was a kid. And now, as an adult with a failed long-term relationship under her belt and a baby on the way?
No, she wouldn’t believe it either.
God, the raw pain in his eyes was like a slap in the face. She didn’t know what to do, what to say. Maybe she should just do nothing. To try and comfort him might be to cross the line they’d crossed on Monday.
Chadwick gave a little nod with his head, as if he were agreeing they shouldn’t cross that line again. Then he dropped his head, muttered, “Hold my calls,” and trudged into his office.
Defeated. That’s what he was. Beaten. Seeing him like that was unnerving—and that was being generous. Chadwick Beaumont did not lose in the business world. He didn’t always get every single thing he wanted, but he never walked away from a negotiation, a press conference—anything—looking like he’d lost the battle and the war.
