Page 24 of The Heartbreaker (Chandler Brothers 3)
She wished she could crawl into his arms and reveal all. Of course she couldn’t. The only one she could trust was herself. Unless … “Is this Chase the journalist asking or Chase the man?” she asked.
A muscle ticked in his jaw and he ran a frustrated hand through his hair. “Fair enough,” he muttered.
Her question acted like the proverbial last straw, shutting him down completely and cementing the wall between them. That had been her intent if he was asking from a journalistic need to know as opposed to asking from the heart.
Either he was unsure how to answer, or he didn’t want to admit that the reporter in him wanted answers that could make his career. She was disappointed but she had to play her cards close.
“Rick had an officer bring your car and he dropped the suitcase off downstairs. Why don’t you shower and freshen up. We can pick this questioning up again later.”
Since she reeked of smoke and felt like hell, she agreed. “Thanks. A shower sounds wonderful.” As for them talking again, Sloane didn’t have time for exchanges of information.
Norman and Izzy had mentioned a place called Crazy Eights, a pool hall where Samson hung out when he had money in his pocket. Sloane recalled Izzy’s warning, and though she was more afraid of meeting her real father than she was of the pool joint, she had to find Samson regardless.
The sound of footsteps distracted her. Chase returned with her suitcase in hand. In his gaze, she caught a hint of warmth, which in turn made her pulse race and her heart beat faster. Thank goodness he quickly masked it or she’d have done something stupid, like kiss him.
After her shower and a quick meal, she was out of here. Off to find her real father. Without this reporter’s help or prying eyes.
Living in Yorkshire Falls, a single man could either eat at Norman’s, bring in from Norman’s, or learn how to cook. Chase mostly relied on take-out food from Norman’s. He opened his freezer, searching for something he could defrost and serve to his guest. Not much looked appealing.
He ran a hand through his hair, feeling filthy from soot and dirt. He needed a shower, but he’d have to wait his turn. From his post in the kitchen, he heard the shower running in the other room. Or maybe he just imagined that he could hear Sloane in his bathroom, letting the water pour over her soft skin. Only one hallway and a door separated them. The thought was enough to nearly kill a man.
So was the way she’d dismissed that night between them as a one-night stand. So that’s all it had been. It wasn’t like he’d expected to see her again, let alone get embroiled in her life. But with her words, she’d sure as hell hurt his ego. In truth, she’d damaged more than his pride. He cared about what she thought far too much for someone who’d been a brief fling. And those kind of feelings could prevent him from achieving his goals—a huge story picked up by the big papers and a shot at big-time fame. A scoop on vice presidential candidate Michael Carlisle.
Chase could practically smell that story right beneath his nose. And the fact that Sloane wanted to distinguish between Chase the man and Chase the reporter told him he might be even closer than he thought. But closer to what? What was she hiding?
He doubted he’d get those details from Sloane. Hopefully, Madeline Carlisle would be more forthcoming with her information once she realized he’d already done as she asked and saved her daughter’s behind. And what a delectable behind it was, round and tight in her faded jeans.
He clenched his jaw and slammed the freezer door shut, unable to find anything edible. The easiest thing would be to call Izzy and ask her to deliver.
He picked up the phone at the same time the doorbell rang. Chase had done some renovations in the old Victorian house after moving in, and though he could reach the downstairs office from a private indoor staircase, he also had a separate entrance installed for his own personal visitors. He headed to the door and immediately caught sight through the window of his mother’s honey blond hair.
“Shit.” Knowing there was no putting it off, he opened the door and let her inside.
Before he could speak, she pulled him into her arms and held on tight. “Oh, my God, are you all right? I heard what happened at Samson’s place and I’ve been sick with worry.” She stepped back, and sure enough, concern etched her beautiful face as she ran her hands down his arms, presumably to make sure he was in one piece.
“Gossip mill ran that fast, huh?” he asked, trying to make light of a very serious situation. Raina might not have a real heart condition, but she was getting older and she adored her children. He didn’t want her worrying about him unnecessarily.
