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‘You can read me?’ Chase leaned forward, his eyes glinting in the candlelight. She saw the golden-brown stubble on his jaw, could almost feel its sandpaper roughness under her fingers. She breathed in the scent of him, part musk, part sun, pure male. ‘What am I thinking now?’ he asked, a steely, softly worded challenge. Millie didn’t dare answer.
She knew what she was thinking. She was thinking about taking that hard jaw between her hands and angling her lips over his. His lips would be soft but firm, commanding and drawing deep from her. And she would give, she would surrender that long-held part of herself in just one kiss. She knew it, felt it bone-deep, soul-deep, which was ridiculous, because she barely knew this man. Yet in the space of an hour or two he’d drawn more from her than anyone had since her husband’s death, or even before. He’d seen more, glimpsed her sadness and subterfuge like no one else could or had. Not even the parents who adored her, the sister she called a best friend. No one had seen through her smoke and mirrors. No one but Chase.
And he was a stranger.
A stranger who could kiss her quite senseless.
‘I don’t know what you’re thinking,’ she said and looked away.
Chase laughed softly, no more than an exhalation of breath. ‘Coward.’
And yes, maybe she was a coward, but then he was too. Because Millie knew the only reason Chase had turned provocative on her was because he didn’t want to answer her question about his family.
She pushed her plate away, her appetite gone even though her meal was only half-finished. ‘How about that walk on the beach?’
He arched an eyebrow. ‘You’re done?’
She was so done. The sooner she ended this evening, the better. The only reason she wasn’t bailing on the walk was her pride. Even now, when she felt uncomfortable, exposed and even angry, she was determined to handle this. Handle him. ‘It was delicious,’ she said. ‘But I’ve had enough.’
‘No pun intended, I’m sure.’
She curved her lips into a smile. ‘You can read into that whatever you like.’
‘All right, Millie,’ Chase said, uncoiling from his chair like a lazy serpent about to strike. ‘Let’s walk.’
He reached for her hand and unthinkingly, stupidly, Millie let him take it.
As soon as his fingers wrapped over hers, she felt that explosion inside her again and she knew she was lost.
CHAPTER THREE (#u05679086-c80e-5dc4-ba86-e2c794dd1af8)
CHASE felt Millie’s fingers tense in his even as a buzz travelled all the way up his arm. Her fingers felt fragile, slender bone encased in tender skin. A sudden need to protect her rose in him, a caveman’s howl. Clearly it was some kind of evolutionary instinct, because if there was one woman who didn’t need protecting, it was Camilla Lang.
He thought she might jerk her hand away from his, and he was pretty sure she wanted to, but she didn’t. Didn’t want to show weakness, most likely. He smiled and took full advantage, tightening his hold, drawing her close. She tensed some more.
This woman was prickly. And Chase had a sneaking suspicion she had issues, definitely with a capital I. Bad relationship or broken heart; maybe something darker and more difficult. Who knew? He sure as hell didn’t want to. Didn’t he have enough to deal with, with his own issues? Those had a capital I too. And he had no intention of sharing them with Millie.
Even so he drew her from the table, still holding her hand, and away from the terrace, down the lift, through the resort, all the way outside. He threaded his way through the tables of the beach-side restaurant and bar, straight onto the sand. She held his hand the whole time, not speaking, not pulling away, but clearly not all that pleased about it either.
There they were, holding hands alone in the dark.
The wind rattled the leaves of the palm trees overhead and he could hear the gentle shoosh of the waves lapping against the shore. The resort and its patrons seemed far away, their voices barely a murmur, the night soft and dark all around them. Millie pulled her hand from his, a not-so-gentle tug.
‘Let’s walk.’
‘Sounds good.’
Silently they walked down the beach, the sand silky and cool under their bare feet. Lights of a pleasure yacht glimmered in the distance, and from far away Chase heard the husky laugh of a woman intent on being seduced.
Not like Millie. She walked next to him, her back ramrod-straight, her capris and blouse still relentlessly unwrinkled. She looked like she was walking the plank.
He nearly stopped right there in the sand. What the hell was he doing here, with a woman like her? Didn’t he have better ways to spend his time?
‘What?’ She turned to him, and in the glimmer of moonlight he saw those warm, soft eyes, shadowed with a vulnerability he knew she thought she was hiding.
‘What do you mean, what?’
‘You’re thinking something.’
‘I’m always thinking something. Most people are.’
She shook her head, shadows deepening in her eyes. ‘No, I mean...’ She paused, biting her lip, teeth digging into those worry marks once more. If she didn’t let up, she’d have a scar. ‘You’re regretting this, aren’t you? This whole stupid date.’
He stopped, faced her full-on. ‘Aren’t you?’
She let go of her lip to give him the smallest of smiles. ‘That’s a given, don’t you think?’
Did it have to be? How had they fallen into these roles so quickly, so easily? He wanted to break free. He didn’t want to be a flippant playboy to her uptight workaholic. He had a sudden, mad urge to push her down into the sand, to see her clothes wrinkled and dirty, her face smudged and sandy, her lips swollen and kissed...
Good grief.
Chase took a step back, raking a hand through his hair. ‘We’re pretty different, Millie.’
‘Thank God for that.’
He couldn’t muster a laugh. He had too many emotions inside him: longing and lust, irritation and irrational fear. What an unholy mix. He’d asked her out because it had seemed fun, amusing, but it was starting to feel way too intense. And he didn’t need any more intense. He took a breath and let it out slowly. ‘Maybe we should call it a night.’
She blinked, her face immediately blanking, as if her mind were pressing delete. Inwardly Chase cursed. He didn’t want to hurt her, but he knew in that moment he had.
‘Millie—’
‘Fine.’ Her back straighter than ever, she started down the beach away from the resort. He watched her for a second, exasperated with her stubbornness and annoyed by his own clumsy handling of the situation.
‘Aren’t you staying at the resort?’
‘I’m finishing our walk.’
He let out a huff of laughter. He liked this woman, issues and all. ‘I didn’t realise we’d set a distance on it.’
‘More than ten seconds.’ She didn’t look back once.
She was far enough away that he had to shout. ‘It was more like five minutes.’
‘Clearly you have very little stamina.’
There was more truth in that then he’d ever care to admit. ‘Millie.’ He didn’t shout this time, but he knew she heard anyway. He saw it in the tensing of her shoulders, the half-second stumble in her stride. ‘Come back here.’
‘Why should I?’
‘On second thought, I’ll come to you.’ Quickly he strode down the beach, leaving deep footprints in the damp sand, until he reached her. The wind had mussed her hair just a little bit, so the razor edges were softened, blurred. Without even thinking what he was doing or wondering if it was a good idea, Chase reached out and slid his hands along her jaw bone, cupping her face as he drew her to him. Her skin felt like cool silk, cold silk, icy even. Yet so very, unbearably soft. Eyes and lips and skin, all soft. What about her, Chase wondered, was actually hard?
She was close enough to kiss, another inch would do it, yet he didn’t. She didn’t resist, didn’t do anything. She was like a deer caught in the headlights, a rabbit in a snare. Trapped. Terrified.
‘Sorry,’ he breathed against her mouth, close enough so he could imagine the taste of her. She’d taste crisp and clean, like the white wine she’d drunk, except it would be just her. Essence of Camilla.
She jerked back a mere half-inch. ‘Sorry for what?’
‘For acting like a jerk.’
Her lips quirked in the tiniest of smiles. ‘To which point of the evening are you referring?’
‘All right, wise-ass. I was talking about two minutes ago, when I said we should call it a night.’ He stroked his thumb over the fullness of her lower lip, because he just couldn’t help himself, and felt her tremble. ‘I don’t think I was too much of a jerk before that.’
Millie didn’t answer. Chase saw that her lips were parted, her pupils dilated. Desire. The brief moment of tenderness suddenly flared into something untamed and urgent. Chase felt a groan catch in his chest, his body harden in undeniable and instinctive response. His hands tightened as they cradled her face, yet neither of them moved. It was almost as if they were paralysed, both afraid—no, terrified—to close the mere inch that separated them, cross that chasm.
Because Chase knew it wouldn’t be your average kiss. And he was in no position for anything else.
With one quick jerk of her head, Millie slid out of his grasp and stepped backwards. ‘Thanks for the apology,’ she said, her voice as cool as ever. ‘But it’s not needed. It was interesting to get to know you, Chase, but I think we’ve fulfilled both sides of the deal.’ She smiled without humour, and Chase couldn’t stand the sudden bleakness in her eyes. Damn it, they were meant to be soft. ‘Good night,’ she said and headed back down the beach.
* * *
Millie walked without looking where she was going or caring. She just wanted to get away from Chase.
What had just happened?
He’d almost kissed her. She’d almost let him. In that moment when his hands had slid along her skin, cradling her face like she was something to be cherished and treasured, she’d wanted him to. Desperately. She would have let him do anything then, and thank goodness he hadn’t, thank God he’d hesitated and she’d somehow found the strength to pull away.
The last thing she needed was to get involved with a man like Chase Bryant.
She left the beach behind and wound her way through the palm trees to the other side of the resort. She’d go in the front entrance and up to her room, and with any luck she wouldn’t see Chase again all week. It was a big place, and he’d told her he was staying at his villa.
So why did that thought fill her with not just disappointment, but desolation? It was ridiculous to feel so lost without a shallow stranger she’d met a couple of hours ago. Absolutely absurd.
Clearly what this evening had shown her, Millie decided as she swiped her key-card and entered the sumptuous suite Jack had insisted she book for the week, was that she was ready to move on. Start dating, have some kind of relationship.
Just not with a man like Chase Bryant.
The words echoed through her, making her pause in stripping off her clothes and turning on the shower. A man like Chase Bryant. She’d pigeon-holed Chase from the moment she’d met him, yet he’d surprised her at every turn. Just what kind of man was he?
A man who asked pressing questions and told her things about herself nobody else knew. Who turned flippant just when she needed him to. Whose simple touch set off an explosion inside her, yet who kept himself from kissing her even when she was so clearly aching for his caress.
A man who made her very, very uncomfortable.
Was that the kind of man she didn’t want to get involved with?
Hell, yes.
She wished she could dismiss him, as she’d fully intended to do when she’d first met him: spoiled and shallow playboy, completely non-threatening. That was the man she’d agreed to have dinner with, not the man he was, who had set her pulse racing and tangled her emotions into knots. A man who touched her on too many levels.
Was that what she didn’t want? Getting involved with someone who had the power to see her as she really was, to hurt her?
Well, duh. Obviously she didn’t want to get hurt. Who did? And surely she’d already had her life’s share of grief Millie stepped into the shower, the water streaming over her even as her thoughts swirled in confusing circles.
Her mind was telling her all that, but her body was singing a very different tune. Her body wanted his touch. Her mouth wanted to know his kiss. Every bit of her ached with a longing for fulfilment she thought she’d forever suppressed.
She let out a shudder and leaned her head against the shower tile as the water streamed over her.
She could stay analytical about this. So she didn’t want to get hurt. She didn’t have to. How much she cared—how much she gave—was in her control. And here she was—and Chase was—on a tropical island for a single week, neither of them with very much to do...
Why not?
Why not what?
She dumped too much shampoo into the palm of her hand and scrubbed her hair, fingernails raking her scalp as if she could wash these tempting and terrible thoughts right out of her mind.
Just what was she contemplating?
A week-long affair with Chase Bryant. A fling. A cheap, sordid, sexual transaction.
She scrubbed harder.
She didn’t do flings. Of course she didn’t. Her husband had been her only lover. Yet here she was, thinking about it. Wondering how Chase would taste, how he would hold her. What it would feel like, to be in his arms. To surrender herself, just a little bit of herself, because even if he sensed she had secrets she wasn’t going to tell them to him. She just wanted that physical release, that momentary connection. The opportunity to forget. When Chase had been about to kiss her, she hadn’t been able to think about anything else. All thoughts and memories had fled, leaving her nothing but blissful sensation.
She wanted that again. More.
Millie rinsed off and turned off the shower. She could control this. She could satiate this hunger that had opened up inside her and prove to herself and everyone else that she’d moved on.
She just needed to tell Chase.
* * *
Chase watched the poker-straight figure march down the beach as if in step with an invisible army and wondered why on earth Millie was looking for him. For there could be no mistaking her intent; she’d arrowed in on him like a laser beam. What, he wondered, was with all the military references going through his mind?
Clearly Millie Lang was on the attack.
And he was quite enjoying the anticipation of an invasion. He sat back on his heels on the deck of his sailboat, the water lapping gently against its sides, the sun a balm on his back. Millie marched closer.
Chase had no idea what she wanted. He’d stopped trying to untangle his thoughts about their date last night, from the almost-kiss he hadn’t acted on, to the hurt that had flashed in her eyes to the fact that it had taken him three hours to fall asleep, with Millie’s soft eyes still dancing through his mind. Definitely better not to think about any of it.
‘There you are.’
‘Looking for me?’
She stood on the beach, feet planted in the sand, hands on hips, a look of resolute determination on her face. ‘As a matter of fact, I am.’
‘I’m intrigued.’ He stood up, wincing a little at the ache in his joints. He couldn’t ignore the pain any more. She watched him, eyes narrowed, and he smiled. He could ignore it. He would. ‘So, what’s on your mind, scary lady?’
Her mouth twitched in a suppressed smile, and then she was back to being serious. ‘Is this your boat?’
