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“If that’s true, get out there and find someone else. Fall in love, get married, get yourself a picket fence.”
Fletcher regarded him steadily. “You first, big brother.”
“You’re hopeless.”
“Right back at you. And I date plenty. Not by your standards, but who could keep up that pace?”
“My reputation far exceeds my deeds, trust me.”
“Whatever. Anyway, I’ve got work to do here.”
“So do I. I’m heading out to Home at Last.”
“Watch the photo radar with my car. It’s easy to speed with that much horsepower. They’ll mail the ticket to me.”
“If they do, I’ll pay for it.”
“Oh, you bet you will.” Chase was glad to see the edge back in his brother’s attitude. He hated to think that money troubles and the General had him so beaten down.
“I’m impressed you bought a convertible, dawg. Pretty impractical for Arizona. Maybe there’s hope for you yet.”
“Say hello to Sylvie for me,” Fletcher said, ignoring the tease.
“Yeah?” Chase lifted a brow.
“We’re friends, Chase. I can send greetings to a friend. I haven’t seen her in a long time.”
“Stop by the mall and say hi yourself. You’ll be impressed…with what she’s done with the mall, I mean.” He gave an exaggerated wink.
“Same old Chase.” Fletcher shook his head. “I’ll see you at supper. Nadia’s cooking your favorites as a welcome home.”
“My favorites? I didn’t know I had any.” Chase shrugged. “Tonight’s no good. Or tomorrow. I’ll ask her to push it forward.”
“You’re a busy guy.”
He was, but once he got in the car, Chase found his thoughts gravitating to Sylvie.
She was as sexy as ever, trim and curvy, with all that energy. Her hair had deepened from a light corn syrup to a dark honey, and her voice held more authority, but her eyes threw the same green sparks.
Her mouth was still built for sin, with a plump bottom lip and a dip in the top one that created a heart-shaped pillow he wanted to rest his mouth on for hours. Maybe days.
She smelled good, too. What was it? Fruit and spice? Cherry? Something edible anyway.
She had more self-confidence these days. She knew what she wanted. Like the mall job, for one.
How about in bed? Oh, yeah. He’d bet she knew exactly what she wanted in bed. Unlike that long-ago night.
Forget that night. It was old news and wrong even then.
Wrong because of the tequila, wrong because it was Sylvie’s first time, wrong because Chase never stuck around, wrong because Fletcher wanted her, too.
Growing up, she’d been like a little sister—big-eyed and eager, warm and sweet, quietly busy and always thinking.
If only he’d left that alone.
But it had been her twenty-first birthday and she’d been so sad when her mother didn’t show. He’d had to cheer her up. And if it hadn’t been for those damned peach margaritas she kept ordering he would have kept his hands to himself. He knew better. Hell, he was six years older.
Somehow, before he knew it those lips of hers were in kissing range and he was a goner. He just wanted to wrap her in his arms and make love to her all night.
He’d hurt her feelings when he stopped. But better she know he was a jerk up-front than find out later when he left, which he always did. Chase moved on.
Sylvie stuck around.
Hell, she was still at the mall.
As soon as he settled this crisis and got Home at Last off the ground, he’d be out of here. He could hardly wait.
Being home made him feel suffocated.
Tomorrow, he’d do his best to show Sylvie he wasn’t such a bad guy to work with. He’d keep the possible sale of the mall to himself until he had preliminary data and a sense of the real estate market. No point breaking her heart again if selling was out as an option.
Hell, maybe they’d enjoy working together.
He pictured her on that ladder, flailing around, flashing those lacy stockings at him. He’d have preferred bare legs…nothing between his hand and her soft skin….
A horn honked and he realized he’d slid lanes.
Down, boy.
He’d better keep himself in check around her. He doubted there was any danger from her side of the sexual fence. At the moment, Sylvie saw him as the enemy. And depending on what he decided in the next few weeks, she just might be right.
CHAPTER THREE
WHEN SYLVIE STEPPED into the mall at seven-thirty the next morning, “Don’t Worry, Be Happy” filled the air with its cheerful advice. The words hit home.
That was exactly the attitude she would take today. Like she’d told Marshall, she would do what was best for the mall. And what was best for the mall was Sylvie in charge. All she had to do was prove that to Chase and she’d be home free.
Don’t worry, be happy.
Standing there, the feeling of home like a hot bath of Heaven Scent lavender salts, Sylvie surveyed her domain. Starlight Desert was small for an enclosed mall, just three hundred thousand square feet, floored in homey Saltillo, not glaring marble, the ceilings impressive, but not echo-cold.
In the center island, the banana trees, palms and bright flowers gleamed due to the careful care Betty’s crew gave them. As a teenager working maintenance, Sylvie used to pretend she was in a jungle when she watered and dusted them.
As she headed down the mall, a prickle of awareness made her look up to find Chase watching her from the second-floor landing to the office. She forced a smile and a wave, annoyed that her body automatically went all tight and warm and interested, despite the misery the man was causing her.
When she reached the top of the stairs, she smiled again, determined to stay cool and breezy, even though being near him made her tingle. “I wanted to apologize for any harshness I showed yesterday,” she said.
“I understand. You were shocked and hurt.”
“I was surprised,” she corrected, uncomfortable with her reactions being laid out so boldly. It made her sound weak and not very managerial. “Caught off guard. Especially since the decision was based on a misunderstanding about my plans.”
And the fact that Marshall thought her only capable of pouring coffee and making PowerPoint presentations.
“I can’t do my job without your help, Sylvie. So, how about a fresh start?”
“I’m sure we both want what’s best for the mall.”
“Of course.” Something flitted behind his eyes, a difference of opinion, a doubt that raised the hairs on the back of her neck.
He held out his hand. “It’s good to see you, Sylvie. It really is.” The confession seemed pulled from him against his will.
“It’s good to see you…too,” she said, taking his hand. His fingers were warm and strong, making her feel safe and desired and turning her knees to noodles….
Was she holding on too long? Not quite sure, she released her grip.
“I won’t leave you hanging like before,” he said.
“That was thoughtless of me to say, Chase. Starr was so sick. You had her on your mind and—”
“Let’s not,” he said.
“Okay, but I just… I would give anything if she hadn’t… I just miss her.” They’d lost so much when they lost Starr. Her gentle ways, her big-as-life smile, her kind words that hugged them close.
“Hey, hey, fresh start now,” Chase said, but she caught the flash of sadness before he blinked it away. “This could be fun, you know,” he said, giving her his charming grin. He had perfect teeth, white and straight except for a tiny crossover in front she’d always loved. A single flaw in all that perfection was really quite sexy.
Sylvie forced herself to focus. “Fun? I suppose so. If you enjoy twelve-hour days, troubleshooting that never ends and checklists on top of checklists, especially with the Black Friday promotion coming up.”
“Lead the way,” he said, motioning her ahead of him down the hall. She took him into Mary Beth’s office, then stopped cold. She’d forgotten the personal items she’d brought here when she’d assumed the job was hers—photographs, a gold pen set thank-you award from the Retailers Association, her leather planner and her Christmas cactus plant.
Hot with embarrassment, she gathered the plant and pen set. “Let me get these things out of your way.”
“Hang on.” Chase picked up the tri-fold photo frame and studied the pictures. “Graduation?” he said, looking at the one of her in cap and gown with her grandparents. They’d been killed in a car accident a few months later.
“Yep.” She reached for the frame, but Chase was now studying the middle picture—her and Desiree on Sylvie’s birthday four years ago, just after Desiree returned to Phoenix for good.
“Your mom, right?” He lifted his gaze to Sylvie’s face. “Same eyes and nose. Not the mouth so much. Your lips are…” He looked at them, licking his own, as if he wanted a taste of hers.
“Mine are…?” she prompted, getting that tingle again, her knees giving way just a little.
“Uh…different.” He blinked and it was over, like a light had been snapped off. “And this one’s the big party.”
“Starr took that shot.” Starr had set up Sylvie’s twenty-first birthday party at a restaurant, always doing what she could to fill in for Sylvie’s missing family.
“That was some night,” Chase said, shaking his head.
She cringed. Chase had caught her crying outside the ladies’ room after her mother called to say she’d missed her flight. “I don’t know why I was so upset. Desiree is Desiree. She came the next day with the handmade shawl she’d ordered for me, which was what made her miss her plane.” She shrugged.
“You wanted your mom there on your birthday. Of course you’d be upset.” Chase’s dark eyes held her, told her to let herself off the hook, something she rarely did.
“Anyway, that was a long time ago.”
“The dancing was fun,” he mused, dragging her back there. Let’s keep the party going, he’d said to ease her distress. At the club he took her to, she’d drunk more peach margaritas. They’d been dancing close, teasing each other, when their eyes met and locked and Chase had kissed her.
Desire had struck like the flare of a match, so bright it hurt. She’d felt unstoppable drive and aching need and triumph. Chase wanted her as a lover, not a kid sister. Hooray.
She’d wanted it, all of it, naked bodies sliding together, sex and more sex. Her first time for the whole glorious act of love, though she wouldn’t tell him that embarrassing detail.
Later, at her apartment, she’d been only halfway out of her dress when he somehow figured it out. Like there was a big red V on her forehead.
He’d stopped, then lifted her sleeves back onto her shoulders, zipped her up and patted her. Patted her.
She’d felt exactly like what she was, a nervous virgin.
The memory made her shudder.
“The drinking not so much.” She closed the frame with a sharp snap, then added it to the pile of belongings she hoped she’d soon be setting up in here for good.
Chase looked thoughtful, when she turned back, as if he was still thinking about that night. “Did you see the reports I sent you?” she asked, sticking to business.
“Did I…what? Oh, yes, I did.”
“You’re after net operating income?”
“Exactly.”
Unlike in residential real estate, where value was based on comparable sales, commercial property value was based on cash flow. Every dollar of increased revenue meant ten dollars in increased value due to the capitalization rate.
“There might be one final report on Mary Beth’s system,” she said. “She has all the material I sent you, as well.”
“That’s great, except I can’t make sense of her computer files. Any clues?”
“She had a quirky setup. I planned to organize it better. Back when I thought I had the job.”
“For now, save me some time and show me what you know.”
“Sure.” She dropped into the chair that should have been hers, moving the seat lower, since her legs were much shorter than Chase’s, which were long and muscular and…
He leaned over her, not quite touching, but making her aware of him. He smelled of a spicy cologne and laundry soap. Very nice.
“Here’s where she keeps the sales reports and the operations budgets I send her.” She clicked her way to the folders he needed, then found the file she wanted to add.
Abruptly, Chase crouched beside her, eye level, his hand on her chair arm, way too close, making her skin prickle. She explained when the monthly sales data came in from the stores and what Mary Beth did with the various spreadsheets. “Wait, here’s a directory. Let me print it for you.” She turned to the printer and caught Chase with his eyes half-closed, a faint smile on his lips.
“Chase?”
His eyes flew open. “Hmm? Oh. I was just… What do you wear that smells like a cherry pie? You’re making my stomach growl.”
“Probably my lotion. It’s from Heaven Scent. You want me to wear something less appetizing?”
