She glanced at him, those wide eyes too big and innocent for his liking. “Thank you for the compliment.” She patted her behind, and though she tried, she couldn’t hold back a grin.
“That wasn’t what I meant.”
She laughed this time, a light, airy sound that lifted his angry spirits.
“I know. And thank you for saving me. Truly.” She reached up and touched his cheek.
“No one’s ever gone to such extremes for me or my—”
“Pretty ass?” He wasn’t about to let her off the hook completely.
“Not my choice of words, but they’ll do.” She pulled the jacket tighter around her.
“I’m sorry I had to make such a ridiculous scene,” he told her.
“I’m not.” She grinned as a blush stained her cheeks.
He shook his head, amazed and awed. Who was this woman named Sloane Carlisle, daughter of a prominent politician, who looked like fine china but had more backbone than any man he’d ever met, and who, from all appearances, liked what they’d just been through?
So had he, but he was a guy and he knew he’d had the situation under control. Sort of.
She’d known no such thing.
“You didn’t have to come looking for me, but you did. And don’t tell me it was because you promised my stepmother you would,” she said.
He groaned. She had him cornered. No one had put a gun to his head or forced him to go searching out Sloane. He’d done that on his own. Because he was worried about her.
All these emotions pushing to the surface had him edgy and off balance. And he knew just one way around it—get back to doing his job, the one thing that grounded him and kept him sane. “Let’s go home.”
She nodded. “I can’t argue with you there.”
“As soon as we get there, you can tell me exactly why it’s so important that you find Samson.”
Panic flared in her eyes. “But—”
“No argument. I didn’t nearly get my ass kicked by a bunch of bikers only to be kept in the dark now.”
She lowered her head a notch. “It’s personal, Chase. Deeply personal.”
The plea in her voice tore at him, but along with that need to give her anything she wanted, there came a stronger resolve to get answers. “Do you want to come back here Friday night?” he asked.
She nodded. “You know I do.”
“Then unless you want me to borrow Rick’s handcuffs and keep you shackled at home, you’re going to have to explain. Otherwise, there’s no way in hell I’m putting my ass or yours in danger again.” He pushed the door open as he spoke.
“I planned to stay in a hotel.”
“No.” He wasn’t letting her out of his sight.
“You’re not responsible for me, despite what Madeline made you promise.”
He held her hand tighter. “There’s no hotel in Yorkshire Falls and you aren’t coming into Harrington again unless you’re with me. Subject closed.”
“Okay.” She shrugged, knowing how to pick her battles. Instead of arguing, Sloane figured giving in now would benefit her later. “Thanks.”
He grunted in reply.
Sloane clenched her jaw as they walked to Chase’s truck. Another argument ensued about her driving home. Once again, she agreed with him and he’d promised they’d pick her car up in the morning. Given his current mood and the fact that she was the cause, not to mention that he had saved her behind, she figured she owed him the little things.
Like staying at his home instead of a hotel. She wondered if he had a guest room or if he expected them to sleep together after her performance in the bar. If that’s what he desired, she knew he’d be impossible to resist.
A cold wind whipped up around her, fall quickly turning to an early winter. The wind seemed to penetrate her skin, seeping straight through to her bones. Sort of like what Chase had done earlier tonight. She trembled at the memory of him standing between her legs, looking down at her with a predatory gleam in his eyes. Dice might have commanded the performance, but when Chase came over her, they were all alone.
Without warning, he lifted the jacket off her shoulders and held it out so she could slip her arms through the sleeves. “Your teeth are chattering.”
“And you’re a nice guy.”
He scowled at that.
“Don’t worry. I haven’t figured out how nice.” Nor had she figured out what to tell him about her relationship to Samson. On one hand, he’d helped her out and answers weren’t too much to ask. On the other, this was the most private, painful moment of her life.
Then why did sharing it with Chase, an almost stranger, a journalist of all things, feel so right?
“Truck’s right here.” He pointed two parking spots ahead on the street and she nearly ran, happy to get out of the cold.
“Chase!”
A woman’s voice took Sloane by surprise and she followed his lead, pausing by a pretty brunette who greeted him with enthusiasm and a surprising kiss on the lips.
Sloane bit the inside of her cheek, hating that another woman knew Chase well enough for any kind of kiss. Which was ridiculous. The man had a life and she’d been a one-night stand.
“I saw your truck. I recognized the plates,” the woman said. “Then I went into the supermarket. I just came out. I’m shopping late tonight, as you can see.” She shifted the package in her arms. “And here you are.” She looked at him with pure pleasure.
And Sloane’s stomach cramped as she waited for Chase’s reply.
“Hello, Cindy.”
Sloane couldn’t read his tone of voice. Was he happy to see this woman or not?
“I haven’t heard from you in a while.” She spoke matter-of-factly, not petulant or whiny, but a hint of disappointment was evident in her voice.
“I’ve been busy. Here, let me help you with your bags.” Chase grabbed for her packages.
“Aren’t you going to introduce me to your friend?” Cindy asked, taking in Sloane, who’d opted to pull Chase’s jacket tighter around her and watch the scene unfold.
He exhaled a long sigh. “Cindy, meet Sloane. Sloane, this is my . . .” He paused long enough for Sloane to narrow her gaze. “This is my friend Cindy.” Chase finished the introductions, clenching his jaw, obviously not happy.
Sloane wasn’t thrilled either. Apparently, these two had a relationship of some sort. What sort was the question and he wasn’t being forthcoming.