Body (7 page)

“Miss Callahan as requested, Sir.” Jack pushes me toward Chase.

Chase’s eyes soften. He stands and pulls out the chair next to him. “Thank you, Jack. That will be all. I’ll ring you when we’re ready to leave.” Jack exits. No goodbye, no see you later.

I sit down in the chair he offers. “Interesting company you keep.” I gesture toward Jack as he walks away.

Chase laughs. “He’s rough around the edges, but he gets the job done. I trust him to protect me. We’ve had some close calls, but he rises to the challenge.” I swallow the golf ball that got stuck in my throat as he mentions the “close calls”. I want to ask him about his experiences, but choose to hold my tongue. Learning too much about him when I’m going to give him the “it’s not you, it’s me” talk wouldn’t help my situation. “Thank you for meeting me, Gillian. I was looking forward to seeing you.” His smile puts me at ease even though I’m about to tell him we can’t take this thing between us any further. ”Would you like a drink?”

“That would be lovely, thank you.”

Chase waves at the bartender, who bustles over at break neck speed. “Yes, Mr. Davis. Sir, what can I get for you?” 

“A bottle of the Caymus Special Selection 2010 Cabernet Sauvignon.” He doesn’t ask what I’d like, but it doesn’t bother me. He’s comfortable taking the lead and it gives me a few moments to figure out what to say. “Figured you’d appreciate a wine from our backyard.” He smiles and turns his chair toward me as he did the night we met. Was that only just last night? Jeez. Time definitely slows in his presence.

“I’m sure anything you pick will be great.”

“So Gillian, tell me about yourself?” He turns his body toward mine, his focus on me is absolute. For a moment, having this much of Chase’s attention is disconcerting with a twinge of exhilaration. What would it be like to be the center of such an intense man’s world? I’ll never know.

The bartender sets two bulbous glasses in front of us and busies himself opening our wine.

“What do you want to know?” If he keeps looking at me like I’m the most interesting thing in the world, I’ll be happy to pull out my diary and read it to him.

“Everything.” His eyes light as his hand reaches to twirl a few fingers through one of my locks. “You have gorgeous hair. I love redheads.”

“Really? I thought you preferred blondes.” The comment slips between my lips before I can take it back.

He frowns. “What would give you that impression?” One brown eyebrow rises to a point.

Might as well go for broke. “I looked you up before I came.”

“Ah, I see. So you saw pictures of me at events with blondes, and you surmised that I have a type?” He gestures using quotes when he says type. I nod.

“Those women were not mine. They meant nothing to me.” He grabs the wine the bartender poured for him to taste. Watching him hold the delicate stem reminds me of his hands trailing down my neck with the barest of touches. A shiver runs through me. Cupping the glass, he circles it, swirling the wine. He inhales before he puts the glass to his mouth and sips. The burgundy liquid kisses his full lips. He makes an “mmm” sound and the tone goes straight to my core. I cross my legs and his hand covers my knee. He drags a thumb across the silky nylon surface and starts mimicking figure eights or the infinity symbol. It’s maddening, but I don’t move it. I like his hands on me too much to stop him. “The wine is fine. Thank you, James.”

“When you ordered the wine, you said from
our
backyard. Are you from California, too?”

He nods. “I have homes in all the major cities, but I leave my heart in San Francisco.” His eyes twinkle and I laugh. Cheeky fella. He’d be so easy to fall for.

The bartender half fills our glasses and meanders away. I get up the nerve to ask the question I really want to know. “So what do you mean when you say those women weren’t yours?”

His thumb continues to rub circles across my knee, rising higher at each turn. It’s a slow, quiet seduction of my senses, but its working well. Each pass stokes my desire, ramping it up until I’m a tight ball of need.

He ignores my question at first. “God, Gillian, I can’t stop thinking about what’s under here.” Now his entire hand is gripping my thigh and creeping up until the tip of his fingers reach the garter clasp. He growls quietly and shakes his head as if to clear it. “I, uh, I hire them to go to those events with me.”

I can’t hide my shock. “Why? You could have anyone?”

“Thank you, but I have very little time to woo women. Except you. You are something else.” He shakes his head as if trying to clear his mind. “Something else entirely.” He squeezes my thigh, and I imagine him squeezing me somewhere else, preferably with his cock buried inside me.
No, no, no! This is not supposed to be happening. I’m supposed to be cutting him loose.
I lick my overly dry lips. His eyes go dark and I glance away. Looking into those hungry eyes will be my undoing.

“So, you weren’t with those women?” He’s feeding me a line. No woman in their right mind would go out with him and not try to bed him. He’d be a major win for anyone.
Just not me.

“I fucked them, if that’s what you’re asking.” Holy moly, he’s crass and dangerously effective at making me hotter. “But I was never in a relationship with them.”

I narrow my eyes, completely disbelieving the line of bullshit spewing from his mouth.

“I never lie, Gillian. Dishonesty is the worst kind of weakness.” The smile that had me captive turns into a frown and his tone sounds irritated.

His hand slides to the outside of my thigh. I look at his hand clutching me possessively and see how very right it is there, how right his touch feels. Warm and safe. Feeling safe with a man is foreign to me. Panic wiggles into my subconscious and twists at my gut. I can’t look at his hand on my body anymore. I grasp for the wine, needing the distraction.

Deep breath, Gigi. You’re fine. You like his touch. You want his touch. It feels good.

“You had sex with those women after paying them to attend a function with you?” Disdain creeps into my tone. “You know what that’s called?”

He nods and grins. “Does that shock you?” he asks with a seductive lilt. He toys with the strap of my garter, slipping two fingers under and sliding them up and down, pushing my skirt to an indecent height. His touch is like molten lava, but I can’t push him away. I crave the intense heat, need to feel the burn. When his hands are on me, I feel alive.

“Y-yes, it does.” I stutter as his hands wickedly seduce me. “Why?” I whisper.

“Why not? Sometimes I need an escort to a function.” 

“I’m not asking why you took them. I’m asking why you paid them for sex!” The words spill softly from my lips to ensure none of the other patrons can hear.

Chase grins and takes a swallow of his wine. He leans close to my ear. “I didn’t, nor would I ever, pay for sex. I paid for the escort. The sex was completely their choice, optional on their part.” His lips drag along my ear as I hear him inhale deeply then groan before sitting back upright.

Oh thank God! I almost believed he was paying prostitutes, which seems just as ridiculous as his need to hire an escort. Any woman would want to date him. He could literally walk up to a woman sitting alone in the bar and she’d fall all over herself to entertain him.
What do you care? You’re bailing on him anyway.
I adjust my shoulders readying myself to cut and run.

He brings his hand to smooth down the length of my back. The simple caress is relaxing and I’m still no closer to telling him I can’t see him. My mind races to come up with a way to manage both my job and him. Is it possible?  

“Your turn. Where did you grow up?” His hand trails along my spine in flourishing sweeps, almost as if he’s coating my lust like an artist with a paintbrush.

“I grew up in Northern California. Sacramento and the surrounding cities, mostly. Went to Sacramento State, got my degree in Business Administration with a focus in Marketing a little over two years ago. Moved to the Bay Area just out of college and was hired on by the Foundation right away. Been in fundraising ever since.”

“Wow, that was the abridged version. Do you have the spiel memorized?” He laughs.

“I don’t like talking about myself. Where did you grow up?”

His smile fades. “I lived most of my life with my Uncle and four cousins in Beverly Hills. I lived in Boston during my days at Harvard.”

I’m certain my eyebrows are reaching for the sky. He’s an Ivy League boy.
What the hell is he doing here with me?

“Before I finished at Harvard, I’d amassed my own small fortune investing in broken, bankrupt firms that cost me next to nothing. My uncle helped, bankrolling my first acquisition. Then I built each company up from the ashes and made them profitable again. After doing that a dozen times, I built my own company and slowly my empire.” He’s proud of his achievements but doesn’t come off too smug.

“A Phoenix rising from the ashes.”

His surprised eyes meet mine. He’s clearly delighted and wickedly handsome when he’s happy.

“Exactly.” He nods and smiles.

“Why did you create the Safe Haven Foundation?” It makes no sense why he would create a foundation when it’s obvious he’s in the business of making money, not giving it away.

“I saw a need. I had the capital, and it was important to me.” He shrugs and looks away for the first time this evening. He swirls his wine, then refills his glass and mine with the remaining crimson liquid. I can tell he doesn’t want to go into additional detail. “Tell me about your family, your parents?”

I go cold. The hairs on my forearms rise. “My Mother passed away from cancer a few years back. I don’t really know much about my Father. He was never around. Once in a while he’d send Mom money to help out, but I’ve only seen him a handful of times. Last I heard, he was working construction for a company that traveled from site to site around the nation. I’m an only child. My parents didn’t have siblings, so I don’t have extended family either.”

He looks at me to gauge my emotions. “I’m sorry.” His hand covers mine and he brings it to his lips and kisses it. It’s an old fashioned gesture for a man so young. It almost lets me forget why I’m here. A deep ache settles into my gut and sets it churning the wine there. I pull my hand away and prepare to stop this pseudo date right here. I have to tell him that we can’t continue to see each other.

Behind me, a sultry voice calls Chase’s name. “Mr. Davis! Fancy seeing you here.” The woman has a thick Puerto Rican accent. She circles around me, insinuating herself between Chase and I. She slides one small hand up Chase’s forearm to his shoulder. Miss Puerto Rico is long, lean, and all mocha colored, satiny looking skin. She’s wearing a slinky swath of a dress that barely covers her ass. It’s fuchsia with little glittering beads all over it. Two diamond strings run around her neck, holding the tiny garment up. With little effort, she brings her body to Chase’s and boldly, hangs both arms over his shoulders, grasping his neck. “Where have you been all my life?” Chase looks shocked to see her, but doesn’t immediately pull away. Even if this is a casual date or drinks, the woman is rude. Fawning all over a man I was sitting intimately close to is disgusting and pisses me off!

“Tatiana? I wasn’t expecting to see you here. I thought you were in Peru?” He puts his hands around her waist, maybe to move her, maybe to bring her closer. I don’t know, and right now, I don’t care. I watch with sick fascination as the woman practically rubs her body along the juncture between his thighs. He grips her hips, and I want to vomit. Getting the hell out of here is the only thing I can think of. Moving from the opposite side of my chair, I try not to jostle the tanned bimbo rubbing his lap.

I’ve had enough when her hand slides down his chest several times in a very lover-esque manner. Quickly, I turn my chair to the side and slip off. I pull my purse onto my shoulder and take a few steps away from the scene unfolding in front of me.

“I have to go, Chase.” His head snaps up. “I was just going to tell you that this thing between us…” I flip my hand at him as his eyes shoot from the girl hanging all over him to me. Ms. Puerto Rico grins and winks at me. “…it won’t work out. You’re my boss. End of story.” He looks shocked, and his jaw drops.

The leggy brunette sidles in closer and kisses his neck. That’s it. I’ve had enough. I turn on a heel and beat feet out of the bar.

“Gillian, wait!” he calls.

I chance a glance back and find the brunette is kissing him. Ridiculous. Invite me out on a date and kiss and rub all over another woman? Good riddance. I don’t need him or his distracting beautiful body trying to sway me into being another one of his bimbos. I dart from the bar and to the elevators as quick as my heels will take me. I hear Chase yell my name as the elevator doors close.

In what world does a sex kitten climb her way up a man who is clearly on a date with another woman? A world I’m not meant for. One that involves incredibly good looking, rich men, who own swanky bars, limousines, and have linebackers as drivers. Before the bimbo broke the trance, I was actually having a really nice time. Even started to believe that he was genuinely interested in getting to know me.
So stupid!
It’s for the best. So why do I feel like my heart was ripped out and served to me on a platter? That’s insanity or maybe lust talking. The door of the elevator opens and I step out and collide with Jack.

“Get the hell out of my way,” I grate through my teeth and rush toward the buildings doors.

“Miss Callahan. Mr. Davis has asked me to detain you.” He grabs my arm but I yank it out of his grasp so fast he steps back.

“Don’t fucking touch me!” I run out the door and down the street. My strides are long, my skirt bunches up with each step. After several minutes of running, my lungs are on fire, heart jackhammering in my chest. A piercing ache throbs just under my ribs. Coming to a screeching halt, I suck down precious air and try to calm down. Large heaping breaths rack me as I try to gain back control. Stupid men. I should go back there and thank the slut for saving me from heartache down the road. The phone in my blazer’s pocket buzzes angrily. It’s Chase. I hit the “talk” button and bring it to my ear, not waiting for him to speak.