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‘Chicken with pineapple and mango salsa,’ Chase informed her, whipping a dish cloth from his shoulder to wipe something up on the granite work surface. Millie felt her heart—or something—squeeze at the sight of him. He’d changed into a worn blue tee-shirt and faded jeans, and he looked so natural and relaxed standing there, different bowls and pans around him, the smells of fruit and spice in the air.
She and Rob had never cooked. They’d eaten takeaway every night or ready-made meals from the gourmet supermarket. Why cook, Rob had used to say, if you don’t have to? And she had agreed. After a ten-hour day at work, the last thing she felt like doing was making a meal. And they’d both been proud of the way Charlotte, at only two years old, would eat all the things they ate. Brie and smoked salmon. Spicy curries and pad thai. She’d loved it all.
A knot of emotion lodged in Millie’s throat. Why was she thinking about Charlotte? She never did. She’d closed that part of herself off, shut up in a box marked ‘do not open’. Ever.
Yet here she was, memories springing unbidden into her mind, filling up her heart.
‘Millie?’ Chase was glancing at her, eyes narrowed. ‘You OK there, Scary?’
She nodded. Sniffed. How stupidly revealing of her, but she couldn’t help it. She’d thought she could handle this week, but already she was finding she couldn’t. She was thinking too much. Feeling too much. She’d thought Chase would make her forget, but instead he was helping her to remember.
‘That bath was wonderful,’ she said, in a deliberate and obvious effort to change the subject. ‘I could live in it for a week.’
‘The water might get a bit cold.’ Chase reached for a couple of green chilies and began dicing them with practised ease.
‘Fair point.’ She took a breath and decided she needed to get on firmer footing. Find a little distance. ‘As nice as it is to wear my own clothes, I’m not sure how they got in your bedroom.’
‘A very nice bell hop drove them over while you were in the tub.’
‘Don’t you think you could have asked?’
He glanced up, eyebrows arched. ‘Are we still going over this? My terms, remember?’
‘You can’t keep throwing that at me every time I object to something, Chase.’
‘And that is because...?’
She blew out an exasperated breath. ‘It’s not fair.’
‘True.’
‘So?’
‘We’re not playing baseball, Millie. Or Parcheesi. There are no rules.’
She folded her arms. ‘Are you on some huge power trip? Is that what this is about?’
‘Does it seem like it?’ He sounded genuinely curious, and Millie was compelled to an unwilling honesty.
‘No, which is why I don’t get it. I still don’t really get what you want, Chase. Most men would take the sex and run.’
‘Has that been your experience?’
‘Don’t go there. No questions about the past.’
‘I told you what I wanted. One week.’
‘One intense, all-in week.’
‘Only kind that works for me.’
‘Why?’
Chase didn’t answer for a moment. He concentrated on his cooking, taking out some pieces of chicken from the bowl of marinade and tossing them into a pan shimmering with hot oil. Millie listened to the sizzle and spat as they cooked, a delicious aroma wafting up from the pan.
‘Why not?’ he finally said and flipped the chicken. ‘I know it’s easier and simpler on the surface, Millie, just to skim life. Don’t dig too deeply. Don’t feel too much. I’ve been there. That’s most of my misspent youth.’
She swallowed, knowing he was right. Easier, simpler and safer. ‘But now?’
‘I want something more. I want the whole carpe diem thing. Seize life. Suck the marrow from its bones.’
‘For one week.’
‘Yep. That’s about the size of it.’
‘And you decide to do this with me?’ She couldn’t keep the disbelief from her voice. ‘When you must know I’m the exact opposite of all that?’
He gave her a decidedly roguish smile. ‘That makes it more fun. And all the more reason why it has to be on my terms. Otherwise we’d never get anywhere.’
Millie shook her head. How could she argue with him? How could she explain that she was afraid one week with Chase might be enough to peel back all her protective layers, leave her bare, exposed and hurting? She didn’t want to admit the possibility even to herself.
She slid onto a stool and braced her elbows on the counter. ‘So what made you change your mind? To stop skimming?’
He poured the rest of the marinade on top of the chicken, stirring it slowly. ‘I think I might take this opportunity to invoke part B of the no-talking-about-the-past clause, which details that I don’t have to talk about it either.’
‘You have something to hide?’
She almost missed the dark flash in his eyes. She knew he was touchy about his family, but he’d told her the basics about that. Was there something else? Something he didn’t want her to know?
‘Not really,’ he said, taking the lid off a pan of rice and spooning some onto two plates warming on the hob. ‘Just some things I’d rather not talk about.’
‘What about your youth was so misspent?’
‘You trying to get to know me?’
‘Maybe.’
He shrugged. ‘Just the usual, really, for a spoiled rich kid. Expelled from half a dozen boarding schools, crashed my father’s Maserati. The final straw was sleeping with his girlfriend.’ He spoke so very nonchalantly, yet Millie sensed a thread of self-protectiveness in his voice. Maybe even hurt.
‘That’s pretty misspent.’
‘Yeah, well, I like to do things right.’ Now he ladled the chicken in its fragrant sauce over the rice, and Millie had to admit it all looked delicious. The man could cook.
‘And what made you change? I assume you’re not crashing Maseratis now?’
‘Only the odd one here or there.’
‘Seriously.’
‘You want me to be serious?’ He let out a long-suffering sigh and handed her a plate. ‘In that case, I need sustenance.’
They sat in a dining alcove, the floor-to-ceiling windows giving an endless view of the ocean darkening to damson under a twilit sky.
‘Your favourite part of the day,’ Chase said softly, and a thrill ran through her—a thrill at the thought that this man was starting to know her. And that she liked it.
How terrifying.
‘So?’ Millie said, attempting to banish that thrill. ‘Why the change?’
Chase speared a piece of chicken. ‘Remember I told you my father decided he didn’t want me in the family business?’
‘That was, I assume, after the girlfriend incident?’
‘Correct. That, of course, just made me more determined to be as bad as I could be.’
‘How old were you?’
‘Seventeen.’
Millie felt a surprising tug of sympathy for the teenaged Chase. Normally she’d just roll her eyes at even the thought of some spoiled rich kid going through cars and women at a break-neck speed, but when she knew it was Chase... When she knew he wasn’t shallow or spoiled, had more depth than most people she met... Well, it felt different. She felt different.
‘So you were super-bad, then?’
‘More of the same, really. Parties, cars, women, drink. Some recreational drug use I’m definitely not proud of.’ He still spoke lightly, but she saw shadows in his eyes. Felt them in her heart. What a sad, empty life. And her life, in a totally different way, had been sad and empty too. Still was.
‘So what was your life-changing moment?’
He gave her a speculative glance. ‘This is getting pretty personal.’
She swallowed and decided not to dissemble. ‘I know.’
Chase speared another bit of chicken and chewed slowly before answering. ‘My father died. I was finishing college, I’d been studying architecture more for the hell of it than anything else. I was still pretty much a waste of space.’ He paused, and Millie almost reached out to him, touched him, even just a hand on his arm. She stopped herself and Chase continued.
‘I found out from his will that he’d legally disowned me from inheriting anything. Cut me out completely. It was what he’d threatened to do years before, but I guess I didn’t really believe he meant it until then. And, while I have to admit I was pretty disappointed that I wouldn’t be getting any of his money, I felt something worse.’ He glanced away, his expression shuttering. ‘Disappointment. Disappointment in myself, and how little I’d made of my life.’
Then Millie couldn’t stop herself. All in, right? She reached across the table and touched Chase’s hand, just a whisper of her fingers against his, but it was big for her and she thought he knew that. He glanced down at their touching hands and then looked up, smiling wryly.
‘Not that inspiring a story, really.’
‘Actually, it is. You recognised your mistakes and did something about them. Most people don’t get that far.’
‘Did you?’
The blunt question startled her. All this intimacy and sharing was great until he turned the tables on her. She withdrew her hand. ‘Maybe, in a manner of speaking.’ She paused, her fingers clenching into an involuntary fist. ‘But it was too late.’
‘Why was it too late, Millie?’ She shook her head. She’d said too much. ‘All these secrets,’ Chase said lightly. ‘You know it only makes you more intriguing, right? Sexier too. And it makes me want to find out what you’re hiding.’
‘Trust me, it’s not sexy. Or intriguing. It’s just...’ She let out a breath. ‘Sad. In a lot of different ways. And the reason I don’t want to tell you is because you’ll look at me differently.’
‘Would that be a bad thing?’
‘Yes, it would.’ She liked the way Chase teased her. Riled her. Yes, he made her uncomfortable, but he also made her feel real and alive. He didn’t tiptoe around her feelings, didn’t tinge every smile with pity or uncertainty. Didn’t look at her like she was a walking tragedy.
The way everyone else did.
Maybe that was what had attracted her to him in the first place—the fact that he didn’t really know her at all. And yet, Millie had to acknowledge, he did know her. The real her. He just didn’t know what had happened in her life.
And she liked it that way.
Yet how could he really know her, without knowing that?
Tired of the tangle of her thoughts, she rose from the table. ‘Didn’t you say something about a movie?’
Fifteen minutes later, after friendly bickering about whether to see an action flick or worthy drama, they settled on a DVD. Chase sat down on the sofa and before Millie could debate where to sit he pulled her down next to him, fit her snugly next to him and draped his arm around her shoulders. Millie tensed for just a second and then relaxed into Chase’s easy embrace. Why was she fighting this? The weight of his arm and the solid strength of his body felt good.
She tried to pay attention to the movie—the worthy drama she had insisted upon—but she was so tired that her eyelids were drooping halfway through. She must have dozed off, for some time later she stirred to find herself being scooped up in Chase’s arms.
‘I can’t believe I sat through something with subtitles so you could fall asleep on me,’ Chase said, and there was so much affection in his voice that Millie curled naturally into the warmth of him, putting her arms around his neck.
‘Time for bed, Scary,’ he muttered, and she heard a catch in his voice. As he carried her through the villa to the bedroom in the back, Millie had the sleepy, hazy thought that there was nowhere else she’d rather be. In Chase’s house. In Chase’s arms. Going to Chase’s bed.
CHAPTER SEVEN (#u05679086-c80e-5dc4-ba86-e2c794dd1af8)
MILLIE woke early, just as dawn was sliding its first pale fingers across the floor. She always woke early; quarter to five was usual. Yet, instead of bolting upright and practically sprinting to the shower, she woke slowly, languorously, stretching before she rolled over, propping herself up on one elbow to gaze at Chase.
He was fast asleep, his hair rumpled, his breathing slow and even. He looked gorgeous, and since he was asleep she let herself study him: the strong, stubbly angle of his jaw; the sweep of golden-brown lashes against his cheek. His lips were lush and full, his nose straight. The dawn light caught the golden glints in his close-cropped hair. Her gaze slid lower. He’d taken off his shirt. She’d seen his chest already, of course. He’d practically been shirtless the whole time she’d known him. Yet now she could study the perfect, muscled form; the sprinkling of dark-brown hair that veed lower, broad shoulders tapering to lean hips. The sheet was rucked about those hips, and she couldn’t tell what he was wearing underneath. Dared she peek?
‘Boxers, Scary.’
Her gaze flew back to his face. He was blinking sleep from his eyes and giving her the slowest, sexiest smile Millie had ever seen. Her heart juddered in her chest but she didn’t try to dissemble.
‘I was wondering. You seem like the type to sleep in the buff.’
‘Nope, I’m strictly a boxers man. Sleeping naked can create all sorts of awkward situations, like when your cleaning lady arrives a bit earlier than you expected.’
Her mouth curved. ‘You seem to have experienced a lot of awkward situations.’
‘It certainly makes life a bit more interesting.’
‘I’ll take your word on it.’
He reached out and touched her hair, his fingers threading through it. ‘Your hair’s not so scary when you’ve slept on it.’
‘It’s probably a mess.’
‘I like it.’ He tucked a strand behind her ear, then trailed his fingers along her cheek before resting his thumb on the fullness of her lower lip. ‘Those worry marks look a little better.’
‘Do they?’ Her heart had started the slow, thudding beat of expectation. They were both in a bed. Nearly naked. Had Chase removed her dress last night? She couldn’t remember, but she was wearing one of his tee-shirts. And nothing underneath.
