Authors: Audrey Carlan
When I look up, Chase is blatantly staring at me, his features pinched. He seems to be assessing the communication between Taye and me. Whatever Chase is thinking, he doesn’t seem pleased. I continue my conversation with Taye and ignore Chase’s stare until lunch arrives.
Watching Chase in action today has been quite a treat. The questions he asks each presenter are calculated, to the point, and innately brilliant. His expectations of his peers and the Foundation staff are high, ones he seems to have also given himself.
A hotel server sets a silver tray in front of me. “The filet, Miss, is seared and broiled with a bleu cheese butter crust, coupled with hickory smoked bacon mashed potatoes and seasoned sautéed vegetables.”
“Thank you.” My mouth waters at the sight of the food. The muffin this morning was tasty but pales in comparison to this feast. I can’t recall the last time I had filet mignon. Must have been prior to my Mom passing. She always did love the finer things in life. Not that we ever got to indulge much on our little family’s budget.
I take a bite and the taste explodes like a firecracker on the fourth of July. The texture of the meat is utter perfection. It’s a soft, melt in your mouth bit of heaven. I moan in contentment, closing my eyes to enjoy the experience. When I open them, Chase has his eyes on me, but they are no longer the stunning blue of the ocean, they are black as night. His pupils are dilated, and he’s gripping his fork so tightly his knuckles have turned white. His jaw is clenched and so taut I wonder briefly if he’s angry. He lets out a deep exhale that I can almost feel against my skin even though there’s a ten foot gap between us.
I know that look; I’ve seen it on men several times in my life. He’s turned on. He shakes his head and tunnels his fingers through his hair haphazardly, giving it that sexy, tussled, just got out of bed look. He’s clearly affected by me physically. As much as I need to avoid starting anything with him, the sexual tension I feel in his presence is stifling. I bite my lip and look anywhere but at his heated gaze.
“Are you about ready?” Taye’s voice startles me.
“Yeah, I think I am. The numbers don’t lie. Time to blow them away,” I smile widely at my colleague and friend. Sitting straighter in my chair, I look at Chase, pleased that I’ve gotten under his skin a little. Chase’s subtle smile fills me with light. Regardless of what’s going on between us, I came here to prove my worth to this Foundation and I’m going to do just that.
Taye gives his update on major giving donors and quite a few of the board members seem impressed. “At the Chairman’s Giving level, Mr. Davis, we request that you sit down face-to-face with the donor. It would be at a time and place of your choosing, based on your schedule. ”
Chase nods. “And at what level would that donor be giving?”
“Miss Callahan and I have done a great deal of research and secured recommendations from a national philanthropic organization--”
“Brass tax, Mr. Jefferson,” Chase warns. “What does one pay to have the pleasure of my company?” Several board members snicker and he grins, merriment taking over the all business fierceness in his eyes.
“Six figures, Mr. Davis.” A couple of people gasp. “You are a very desirable man, Mr. Davis.”
Chase’s eyebrows shoot up and his gaze flicks to me, then back to Taye as he continues his spiel. “Direct access to one of the wealthiest men in the United States can be very valuable to anyone with that kind of disposable capital. I imagine anyone’s access to you on a regular basis is limited.” Taye smooths down his jacket. “Is that not the case?” Taye asks.
Chase looks at a hulk of a man standing near the door. I hadn’t noticed him before. He’s almost as broad shouldered as he is tall. Looks like an NFL football player. He’s stoic, unmoving, his arms firmly planted across his chest. Slicked back black hair adds to his very Italian mafia type features. I wonder why he’s here and who he is.
“You are correct,” Chase responds to Taye’s question. “Access to me is strictly on a needs basis outside the Foundation.”
“So a donation in the six figures would be worthy of access to you?” I know everything is riding on the answer to Taye’s question. He’s been preparing this moment for three months.
“I’m agreeable to it,” Chase announces.
I release my breath in a whoosh. Taye got him. Slam dunk! I was proud. Taye worked so hard on this proposal, and Chase’s agreement to visit top donors face-to-face is the last piece of the puzzle. The Leadership Society would move forward.
“You won’t regret it, Mr. Davis.” Taye beams.
“Don’t let me, Mr. Jefferson. Great work. I look forward to seeing how this pans out.” Chase smiles at me. “I believe Miss Callahan has some information to share with the board.” His smile, coupled with his agreement to Taye’s request, gives me the confidence boost I need.
Over the next thirty minutes, I dazzle them with glossy charts and graphs showing in great detail how the Contributions Department has met their revenue goals for the fiscal year in charitable gifts. Not only met, but exceeded it by forty five percent.
“Miss Callahan, what did you do to make these numbers increase so drastically?” asks one prim and proper looking board member.
“Well, Ms. Conrad, I took a different approach.” I pace the room. “The Foundation had been sending out mailings that were about the Foundation and the work we do in a generic, professional way. However, it lacked sincerity. The stories of the women who so desperately need our help on a regular basis show a more personal aspect.” A couple of the board members nod in agreement. “I interviewed some of the women who had been battered and were having trouble seeing the light at the end of the tunnel until they found us.” I clear my throat but my voice cracks and shakes. “I shared how we helped save their lives. It spoke volumes to the donors.”
I choked up again when I remembered my last interview of a woman who had suffered a brutal beating. She couldn’t walk for a week afterward. The Foundation helped her cut ties with her attacker and to start a new life. I’d held her hand and cried right along with her.
Tears blur my vision. I dab at them before taking a deep breath. Chase stood, went to the drinks table, and brought me a glass of water. I gently sipped while getting my emotions in check.
Now was not the time to relive the past. Chase’s hand warmed my shoulder as his head tipped to the side. “Okay? Need a moment?” He searches my face, clearly showing his concern. I nod and plaster on the fakest smile I can muster. The last thing I need is to breakdown in the middle of the most important presentation of my career.
“Thank you.” I clear my throat and shift my shoulders back.
“Wow, Miss Callahan. I don’t think anyone here had any inkling you wrote those letters. We also weren’t aware they were about real women the Foundation had saved.” His voice holds adoration. He wasn’t just saying so to win over the group or me. I feel nothing but a deep respect for him in that moment. I nod my head and set down the glass of water. “Well, let me be the first to congratulate you on a job very well done. Please continue with your presentation.”
“Thank you, Mr. Davis.” I watch him walk back to his seat. He focuses solely on me as he gracefully sits. His intensity may get to me, but I’m thrilled that he’s seeing my work and the value I have to the organization, not just someone he wants to bed.
“The next area our department focused on was tele-fundraising.” For the next fifteen minutes, I hit them with the results of our successful calling campaign. “If you would be so kind as to review the information and the additional fundraising options, I believe we could save a lot of women with the money we’d raise.” Scanning each member of the board, I can tell that I’m making an impact. “We understand these massive changes take time and appreciate the board’s consideration. Thank you.”
“Very impressive, Miss Callahan. You have given us a great deal to think about over the coming weeks,” Chase offers. He glances at his colleagues to ensure they’re paying attention. “I want each of you to review the information each department has brought to the table today and come to our next board meeting with your list of questions, concerns, and your initial decision on whether to move forward with the recommendations from our staff. We will take a vote at the next meeting.” The board members nod, write notes, and the Board Secretary rapidly taps out her transcription of the action.
Taye nudges my shoulder as I sit down. His full pearly white smile beams, the one he says is the only way to find him in the dark. Under the table, he holds out his hand. I smack it lightly. We both quietly snap. It’s our mini-high five, “Won and then done” victory bump.
As the meeting concludes, I’m thinking of a nice hot bath to end the intense day. I’m about to leave with Taye when Chase grasps my hand and pulls me to his side. I wave off Taye and feel the jolt like two magnets reaching for each other. My body flows towards his so easily. I’ve known him twenty four hours, but the pull is undeniable.
“Gillian, I’d like to introduce you to someone.” He guides me to the burly man in black. “Gillian, this is Jack Porter. My bodyguard, driver, my safety net. He will be picking you up this evening.”
“Good to meet you.” I hold out my hand. Instead of taking it, Jack looks me up and down. I’m not sure if he assessing me as a woman, or checking to see if I have any conspicuous bulges that could hide a concealed weapon. I tilt my chin defensively and place my hands on my hips. “Take a picture, it will last longer,” I say to the huge man.
He grumbles, but doesn’t respond.
Chase laughs a full bellied laugh as he leads me away from the mob boss. The man didn’t say two words to me. Strange company Chase keeps.
“He didn’t even shake my hand. And it’s rude to stare like that.” Chase continues to laugh as we walk briskly out of the room, his hand at my lower back. A girl could get used to being led by Superman. Maybe Lois Lane purposely put herself in all those dangerous situations so she’d be saved by the man of steel.
We’re a good distance from everyone else when I realize I’m being propelled into another small meeting room. Jack comes and stands in front of the door and guards the entrance.
“Chase,” I say in warning, not altogether comfortable with being guided into a dark room.
“Trust me.” He ushers me further into the room. And without question, I do trust him. There’s no rhyme or reason to it. The man has done nothing but put me off kilter since the moment our eyes met across the bar last night. I should be more circumspect, but the prevailing feeling I have near him is “cherished.” I’m not sure why or where the feeling comes from, but it’s filling the doubts that usually control all my decisions with something other than fear.
As my eyes adjust to the dark, I notice a normal sized conference table with a bunch of cushy leather office chairs. I’m about to ask what we’re doing here when Chase grasps my arms, whirls me around, and pins me against the closed door.
A protest sits on the edge of my lips until his mouth envelops mine. The moment our lips touch, it’s magic. I lose all thought. His fingers intertwine with mine, palm to palm. Electricity sizzles between our clasped hands as he holds them over my head, pressing his large body against mine. The power behind his kiss, the wet heat, fingers clutching, chest pinning me to the door is exhilarating. It’s like a fast car racing around the track, going the distance right before crossing the finish line in an explosion of excitement.
The forbidden nature of his passion has my mind in a drunken tizzy. The realization that I’ve allowed him to control me is disconcerting, but it feels too good to stop. His lips nibble and pluck and a delicious sensation ricochets through every pore as sparks of lust race through me. I need more. Of him. Of his mouth. Just more.
I suck his tongue greedily and am rewarded with a guttural groan. Chase pulls away to catch a breath, then delves in deep, leaving no space uncharted. God, the man knows how to kiss. He tastes of coffee, the tiramisu we had for dessert, and something darker, richer. My entire body is on fire. Every nerve ending is hypersensitive, anticipating his next touch. He lets go of my hands and brings one to the side of my neck, tipping my head where he wants, then plunders again, taking total possession. I can feel the weight of his body pushing me harder against the door. The thick length of his erection digs into my hip.
His left hand burns a trail from my neck, over my breast, and settles at my rib cage. I want to tell him to go back up where I need him most, but he steals my breath with his searching tongue. I can do nothing but grip his back to keep him firmly pressed against me, rubbing my body along his, trying but failing to assuage the burning desire ripping me apart. His thumb sweeps across the silky fabric at my ribs in small massaging circles. The touch fills me with want, with the need to take him, right here, right now. My brain tells me to stop this, let go. Walk away. It’s too much. My body, however, has different plans. I arch into him to feel more, to get closer.
Both of his hands encircle my hips as he thrusts his erection against me. I moan into his mouth; loving the fact that I please him, make him hard. He devours me with his tongue, teeth, and lips. His hand moves lower, pulling one leg up and hooking it over his hip, holding it there. The angle is sublime. He grinds in the perfect spot between my thighs, captivating me with every stroke. Desire shatters through me, soaking the wisp of lace between us. My entire focus is on the press and release of his body as he pushes me to unbelievable heights of pleasure. Taking advantage of my hiked leg, his fingers glide to where my thigh high is held in place by the thin strip of fabric attached to a black garter.
“Jesus Christ, you’re wearing thigh highs,” he says in a strangled voice against my mouth. His teeth nip my swollen lips to the point where pleasure and pain mingle. I grin against his teeth. Some of my secrets are good ones. My penchant for sexy lingerie is a favorite. He comes in for another scorching kiss, pressing his turgid length deep against my clit. Tingles of pleasure ripple out from the sensitive nub. I fear I may come here, against this door, like a common hussy.