The woman was more skittish than a man when it came to commitment.
Not like sharing the same bed was professing undying love, but Alana had run, and like any predator, he was provoked to give chase, to win her over, which had given him the idea to accept Chase’s invitation for dinner.
But now?
Chandler watched Alana disappear around the corner and then turned his attention to the fucker who sat across the table from him.
Maddie blinked several times, like she was coming out of a deep sleep. “That’s Miss Gore? She looks…so different with her hair down and dressed…” She grimaced. “Anyway, she looks like she’s my age. Never would’ve thought that.”
He ignored her nervous ramblings. “Earmuffs, Maddie.”
She scowled. “What? I’m not five.”
“Fine.” He leaned forward, dropping a heavy arm on the table. “You know, I expect this shit from Chad. He has a reason to be a little piss-head.”
“Chad is our brother,” retorted Chase. “Therefore we have a reason—”
“You don’t have jack shit, Chase. She has nothing to do with you, and if I knew you were going to sit there and act like a dick, I wouldn’t have came.”
Chase met his brother’s glare with his own. “You could’ve warned us.”
“Why?” Fucker. “It’s not like I’m bringing a murderer to dinner with me.”
“No. You’re just bringing the woman who made Chad’s life a living hell and blackmailed Bridget to dinner with you.” He laughed harshly. “My mistake.”
It took everything not to smack the fucker upside his head, and the only reason he didn’t was because of Maddie. “She made Chad’s life a living hell by making him keep his dick in his pants for five seconds—sorry, Maddie.”
She mumbled something under her breath, raising her hands in a gesture that said she wanted no part in this.
“Plus she cleaned up his image, and you and I both know he was seconds from losing his contract.” His hand curled into a fist atop the table. “Oh, yeah and she is practically solely responsible for Bridget and Chad getting together, so let’s talk about how she ruined his life.”
Chase opened his mouth and then snapped it shut. Exactly. Chandler leaned back, breathing harshly through his nose. He tensed when his shit-for-brains brother opened his mouth again.
“What are you doing with her?” he asked.
“Is that any of your business?”
He stiffened. “Look, I’m just asking. She looked upset when she showed up at your house.”
Chandler glanced in the direction Alana had disappeared. There was no sign of her yet, and he hoped he didn’t have to go in there and drag her out.
Because he would.
“I’m helping her with some problems she’s having,” he said. “Her apartment was broken into, so she’s staying with me for a little while. Right now, it would be nice if she didn’t have to deal with your shit.”
Chase’s eyes widened a fraction of an inch. “Wait. She’s hired you, and she’s staying—”
He raised a hand. “That’s all I’m saying, because the only thing you need to know is that I like her. That should be the only thing you give two fucks about, all right?”
His brother looked like the ghost of their mother just sat down at the table with them.
“Chase,” Maddie said softly. “This isn’t any of your business, but Chandler’s right. If he likes her, that’s all you need to know.”
He took a deep breath. “Fine. Sure. Yep.”
Chandler still wanted to punch his brother in the face and leave way before the check arrived. Maddie managed to draw Alana into conversation once she returned to the table, completely back in control, but he knew she hadn’t recovered from earlier. And he also knew he hadn’t mistaken the sheen of tears in her eyes, either, when she had gotten up to leave.
Chase at least had the decency to cast apologetic glances his way every couple of minutes.
The thing was, Chandler kind of surprised himself with what he’d said to Chase, but it was true. He did like Alana, and those feelings went beyond the physical. How deep, he wasn’t sure, but he’d be damned if his jackass family sent her running.
When dinner wrapped up, he was happy to see Maddie give Alana a quick hug. He shot his brother a dirty look, one that was ignored as they exited the restaurant. But Chase actually shook Alana’s hand when they all parted at the doors, which seemed like a big step.
Scanning the dark street, he dropped his arm over her shoulder and tucked her close to his side. Her shoulders were unnaturally stiff. “Sorry about that.”
“About what?” She lifted her head, face impressively blank.
“You know what I’m talking about.” They stopped at the passenger side of his truck. “For the way Chase acted at the beginning.”
Her shoulders rose in a slight shrug. “It’s not a big deal. Are we going back to your place—”
Chandler cut her off by clasping her cheeks and kissing her sweet and soft lips. He caught her gasp of surprise with his tongue, deepening the kiss, tasting her. When he lifted his mouth from hers, her gaze was unfocused.
He smiled. “You didn’t mess up his life. You made it better. Fuck. You gave him a life worth having. So for that, thank you.”
Chapter Eleven
Thank you.
Those two words kept playing over and over.
Alana sat in her office, staring at the schedule on her computer screen but not really seeing anything beyond what her mind was focused on. Or the images her brain kept spewing out to her when she wasn’t thinking about how he’d thanked her for giving Chad a life worth living.
Every so many minutes, the image of Chandler formed in her thoughts, completely naked. The man’s body was made for daydreams. The way he stood before her, legs spread and arms to his sides, wholly aware of his effect on her. He was a masculine study in beauty. Even the rough-looking scar on his shoulder and the numerous nicks across his rippled stomach added to his appeal. And what hung between his thighs? Alana was no inexperienced virgin, but she could count on one hand how many men she’d been with. None of them lived up to the length and girth of Chandler. She doubted many men did.
And no man had ever tied her wrists together.
Her cheeks flushed as her pulse pounded between her thighs. There was no escaping the fact that she had been turned on by the act or that the dangerous thrill of being completely under someone else’s control had goaded her along. It hadn’t been the sole reason for wanting to return the pleasure, but… It didn’t matter.
It couldn’t matter.
After the situation with her psycho stalker was resolved, Chandler would slip out of her life like a ghost and if she fell any deeper into his seductive web, she would end up like her mother, fixated the rest of her life on unrequited love.
Unfortunately for her, there was more to Chandler than just his overwhelming sexual allure. He was incredibly charming when he wanted to be, always willing, if not eager, to engage in a verbal sparring match, and he seemed to get her in a way that most people never did. How important her job was to her and how even though her tactics were a bit hardcore, they worked and they improved people’s lives.
After the disastrous dinner, he’d stopped on the way back to his house to pick up ice cream. They’d eaten it once they’d gotten to the house, and he’d talked to her, about everything and anything.
It had been so long since she’d just talked with anyone.
Biting down on her lip, she scrolled through her schedule. There were no meetings this week. Ruby was handling the media for a charity that Dick in a Box was participating in, but she had a feeling that she was going to be assigned a new client. A local high-priced prostitution ring had been busted over the weekend and rumor had it that several politicians and sports players were on the lists as clients. The phone at the office had been ringing off the hook. Damage-control time.
She smoothed a hand over her head and flipped her pon
ytail back over her shoulder. She had a stash of rubber bands and pins in her desk but hadn’t pinned her hair up completely. It was strange feeling the weight of her hair.
A knock on her door drew her attention. “Come in.”
The door opened and the first thing Alana saw was a bushel of roses. Not half a dozen or a dozen, it was a freaking bushel of velvety red petals and damp green stems, carefully arranged among baby’s breath and placed in the largest glass vase she’d ever seen.
Her heart leaped into her throat as she started to rise. “Uh, I think you have the wrong office.”
“Miss Gore?” the deliveryman asked, his young eyes peeking out from behind the enormous arrangement. “That’s you, right? They told me it was this office.”
She gaped. “That’s me, but…”
“But these are for you.” He headed toward her, placing them on the desk. “Careful. They’re heavy.”
Her eyes scanned the roses and tiny white flowers as she stood there in a stupor. She didn’t see a card, but she hadn’t realized that in time. The deliveryman was already gone.
Sitting down slowly, she stared at the magnificent, beautiful display of roses. This…this had to cost a pretty penny and she couldn’t even fathom who’d sent them to her. Surely it could not be…
It was time to definitely get some fresh air.
Even though it was near lunch, she figured a quick walk to the coffee store two shops down would be perfect. Either that or sitting here staring at the roses, wondering if Chandler had sent them to her. Logically it had to be him, but why would he do that?
This weekend flashed through her thoughts.
Pushing to her feet, she grabbed her purse and headed out of the office. She looked for Ruby to see if she wanted to come, but she was currently MIA, and continued on her way. Once outside, she stopped and hated that the new habit she had was to check out all the surrounding areas before doing anything. It made her feel…paranoid to look for suspicious people.
Of course, there was no one and she made the quick trip to the coffee shop, ended up ordering an iced tea, and just as she turned, she was once again floored by spotting someone she never thought she’d ever see again.
Or at least hoped not.
Brent King, the aggressive dickhead that had hung around the actress she’d worked with was standing at one of the round tables by the window, fiddling with his phone. He hadn’t seen her yet or maybe he had, but didn’t recognize her.
Unease blossomed low in her belly. She knew he had ties to D.C., but seeing him here unnerved her, especially so close to her work. The first thing she needed to do when she saw Chandler was tell him about Brent.
Heading straight for the door like a speed-walker, she almost had her hand on the bar to push it open when she heard her name.
“Miss Gore?”
Fuck.
Squeezing her eyes shut, she toyed with the idea of ignoring him, but she exhaled loudly and faced him. For a moment she couldn’t move or speak while he stared at her with open dislike. Before—before all the stalker crap—it wouldn’t have bothered her, but a chill washed over her.
What if it was him? And she was standing right there?
Pulling herself together, she swallowed hard as she raised her chin. “Mr. King, I’m surprised to see you here.”
A sneer appeared on his handsome face. “Why the fuck would you be surprised?” he responded, and she flinched, realizing people were starting to stare. “You got all up in my business before. You know I got family here.”
She did, but that’s what being polite got you. “Well, I can’t say it’s nice to see you, so…whatever.” She twisted back to the door, but his words stopped her cold.
“I cannot wait to see you get what’s coming to you.”
Alana whipped back at him, her heart pounding in her chest. “What does that mean?”
He shrugged as he sauntered past her, toward the counter. He bumped her shoulder—knocked it hard. “Bitches like you always get what they deserve.”
Several seconds passed as she stared at the back of his head as he went back to paying attention to his phone, then she spun and quickly got her ass back to her office, back to the bushel of roses.
Brent could’ve just been talking out of his ass. He’d always been mouthy, but what if it was a threat? A not so veiled threat? She should really call Chandler.
She was still staring at the roses when she heard Ruby’s gasp from her open office door. “Holy crap, that’s a lot of roses,” she said, hurrying closer to the desk to inspect them. Her wide eyes met Alana’s. “Does this have anything to do with who’s on his way up the elevator?”
Alana stiffened, half afraid. “Who’s coming up the elevator?”
“One incredibly sexy Chandler Gamble.”
Her eyes darted back to the roses. It was him—he’d sent the roses. Oh my God, she didn’t know what to think, but her Godforsaken stupid heart started flipping in her chest even as sweat broke out across her palms and forehead, and really, she needed to be thinking about Brent. An urge to get up and race toward the stairwell was hard to overcome. The only reason she didn’t was because that reaction would be hard to explain to Ruby.
“I thought you two were just friends,” demanded Ruby, and then in a much lower voice, “hussy.”
She shot Ruby a look a second before a broad, tall form filled her doorway. Her poor heart did a cartwheel as she gripped the edge of her desk. If her heart continued this way, she was going to have a heart attack.
Chandler looked amazing. No big surprise there.
His dark hair was down, falling in soft waves ending just above his shoulders. He was wearing an old AC/DC band shirt and the dark, worn material stretched against his shoulders and chest. There was a bulge under his shirt, along the lip. He was packing.
Packing? Listen to her. Since when did she turn gangsta? Her brain was fried, and the way the jeans he wore appeared to be cut to fit his body alone hadn’t helped.
“What are you doing here?” She immediately winced at how rude it came across and not just to her. And it was a stupid question. He was her bodyguard. Though he couldn’t hang out in the office, he’d escorted her to work and she knew he’d been nearby all morning.
Ruby’s gaze sharpened as she silently exited the room. On the other hand, Chandler look unfazed.
“I thought you’d like to do lunch today,” he said, strolling up to her desk and the enormous set of roses.
It took her several seconds to respond. “Well, I haven’t eaten yet, but you don’t have to come—”
“You hired me as your bodyguard,” he said, his voice low enough that it wouldn’t be overheard. “Therefore, if you are going out in public, I need to be with you.”
Her thoughts swam. After this weekend and now the roses, she seemed to have lost some brain cells. “I was just going to order in.”
“No need now.”
She curled her hands around the edge of her desk. “I went to get coffee earlier, and I ran into Brent King.”
He’d been staring at the roses, but his sharp gaze swung back to her. “He’s on your list. I’ve had a hell of time tracking that actress’ friends down. Did he speak to you?”
Nodding, she told him about the exchange, and based on the way his eyes narrowed, it didn’t look good. “Now that I know he’s here, I’m going to run some searches.” He glanced at the roses again, frowning slightly. “Nice flowers.”
“They are.” She flushed, realizing she hadn’t thanked him for them, and that made her feel like something that rhymed with über-witch. “You didn’t, um, have to send them, but thank you.”
Chandler’s icy blue gaze moved to hers.
She swallowed. “They’re very beautiful, but I’m not sure why you’d send them. I mean, what happened between us? Well, I hired you for this job, and that’s all it is.” As Alana continued to ramble on, Chandler’s brows inched up his forehead. She squirmed in her seat, hating how idiotic she sounded. “Anyway, t
hank you, but you shouldn’t have.”
A moment passed and then Chandler leaned over, putting his hands on her desk. She couldn’t help but stare at those long fingers and remember how they’d felt inside her. Heat burned low in her belly.
Oh God, that was so not the direction her thoughts needed to go.
“First off,” he began, his voice still calmly level. “What happened between us Saturday night didn’t have anything to do with you hiring me. And guess what, it won’t be the last time, either.”
Her eyes narrowed as she opened her mouth. How dare he think he could just say that and it be true?
“And you damn well know it wasn’t,” he continued before she could say anything. “Secondly, do those flowers have a name on them?”
At the change of subject to somewhat safer topics, she glanced at the roses. “Well, no, but—”
“It would’ve had a note if they were from me.” Lifting one hand, he cupped his fingers under her chin. Her skin tingled at his touch, but his next words were like setting a fire to her blood. “Probably something along the lines of how I couldn’t wait to taste you again and I’m not talking about your mouth.”
Her breath left her in a rush. No man ever spoke to her like that. And no person had ever been able to render her speechless.
“So the flowers weren’t from me.” He dropped his hand, but his mouth replaced his fingers a second later. “But I’m dying to know who sent them.”
It happened so fast she didn’t have a chance to pull away. At least that was what she was telling herself. His lips brushed her chin, as soft as one of the rose petals inches from them, and then his mouth was on hers, kissing her, working at the seam of her mouth until her lips parted, allowing him entry. He tasted of rich coffee and something else sinful and all him. A moan caught in her throat as he flicked the roof of her mouth.
“Fuck,” he ground out, breaking the kiss and tearing himself away.
Left panting and scattered, she watched him stalk toward her door. Was he leaving? Nope. He shut the door and locked it, then faced her. The hunger in the tight line of his full, expressive lips and the heavily hooded look to his eyes stole her breath.