Page 40 of The Heartbreaker (Chandler Brothers 3)
“Are you going anywhere?” he asked.
“No.”
“Then go to sleep and we’ll talk in the morning. Unless driving to Yorkshire Falls, nearly being in an explosion, and wrestling with bikers is your idea of a normal, relaxing day.” Behind his wry tone, she sensed his concern. Beyond that, she sensed his innate belief that she would indeed be beside him in the morning, ready and willing to answer his questions.
“Thank you,” she murmured, appreciating his understanding more than he could possibly know. She’d had too little trust given to her lately, especially by the people closest to her.
“You’re more than welcome. Now sleep,” he said in a rough voice. Pushing her hair aside, he kissed her neck and held her close.
His strength and emotional understanding let her relax, and she yawned, curling against his warm skin, waiting for sleep to come. As he said, tomorrow would be soon enough for answers.
Sloane awoke to find Chase’s arms still tight around her. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d slept so soundly and knew she had the man beside her to thank. She turned in his arms to find his blue eyes studying her.
A smile tilted her lips as she traced his profile with one finger.
“You’re awfully quiet,” he said at last, pulling her until her body was aligned with his.
“Used to chattering women, are you?” She bit the inside of her cheek, wishing she could withdraw the dumb, blithe joke. Nothing was funny about Chase and other women.
“Actually, I’m not used to women at all. Discretion, remember? No one came here and I never stayed over.”
But he’d let her stay last night. She arched toward him, her breasts crushing into his chest, his musky warmth cocooning her in delicious heat. “Sounds lonely.”
Though she’d have hated to imagine him in an emotionally intense relationship, she didn’t want him alone either. He deserved so much more out of life, considering how much he’d given in return.
“You get used to it.” He placed a warm, lingering kiss on her lips. “But it’s too damn easy to get used to this too.”
Her heart leaped at his words, even as she cautioned herself against thinking he meant anything by it. Changing the subject was the smartest route. Ironically, the more dangerous subject of her real father seemed the safest topic.
One she was ready to share with him, and Sloane instinctively knew it was because he’d invaded a small part of her heart. “Chase?”
“Hmm?”
“Samson, whoever … whatever he is … He’s my real father.”
“What?” Obviously shocked by her admission, Chase slid out of her grasp, bolting to a sitting position.
Before she could explain, a loud knocking sounded from the far side of the apartment. “Chase? Are you up yet? We need you downstairs.”
“Damn. It’s Lucy.” He stood and grabbed for his jeans. “She’s my right hand at the paper,” he said to Sloane. “Hang on, I’ll be right out,” he yelled over his shoulder. He snapped his jeans and explained while he dressed. “Technically, I’m still on vacation, but they know I’m back and apparently they need me.” He glanced Sloane’s way, obviously torn. How could he not be after the bombshell she’d just dropped on him?
“Go. I’ll still be here when you get back,” she promised.
His blue eyes met hers, deep and questioning. “And you’ll finish explaining?”
She nodded and pulled the covers up over her. “I brought the subject up, didn’t I? I’m not about to bail on you now.”
He inclined his head in silent acceptance, then turned and headed out, shutting the bedroom door behind him and leaving her alone. Sloane leaned back against the still-warm sheets. All around her, she could feel Chase’s presence, feel how much he wanted her.
Too bad he only wanted her for as long as she was in Yorkshire Falls. Because deep down, Sloane had a hunch that she’d give him much more, if only he’d ask.
* * *
Chase’s Gazette staff was comprised of good people with exceptional abilities, but because he’d been so hands-on over the years, they’d never once gone to press without his okay. Many times the front-page story was as mundane as a town meeting or as huge as a national tragedy. Then there were special occasions when Yorkshire Falls news led the day. The panty thief had been the last prime example, when his brother Roman had been pegged as the town Lothario due to a childhood prank and ridiculous coincidence. The newest headlines had happened yesterday. The Gazette was a weekly, and this week, Samson’s house explosion would lead the news.
Samson—Sloane’s father. Chase pinched the bridge of his nose, unable to process that bit of truth. And since they’d had no time to talk before being interrupted, he could only draw his own conclusions.
Sloane was in Yorkshire Falls, looking for Samson Humphrey, a man she’d never met. His house had blown up, and Chase’s staff wanted to know why the police department—Rick Chandler in particular—wasn’t releasing the name of the woman who’d witnessed the explosion. Because Chase had asked Rick to put a lid on Sloane’s identity. He didn’t want the paper running the news that Senator Carlisle’s daughter was at a potential crime scene, or any other scene that would bring the national press to Yorkshire Falls. Chase refused to create a scandal. At least not until he knew more facts.
