Favorite Places (A TroubleMaker Novel, #2) (5 page)

When he heard the
word
accident
, Chase’s entire body went numb. His chest tightened, and
every limb became heavy and unresponsive, just as they had when he’d been
informed of Dylan’s accident the previous year.

Katie, his
assistant, said his name again, snapping Chase out of it. He’d pushed Dylan
from his mind and resumed protective mode. Sweet Little Miss Wholesome had been
hurt. He marched into the hall, planning to take the stairs, but the elevator
dinged, and the doors opened. It was definitely quicker than running down ten
flights, so he jumped in and hit the lobby button.

He rushed out of
the building, saw the crowd of people, the flashing lights, and the ambulance. When
he started toward it, he spotted the tiny pink flip-flop lying in the street.
The numbing sensation started all over again in his limbs, and the heaviness
pushed to his chest. He shoved his way through the crowd. He found her lying there
on the ground, eyes closed and body limp. Her hair splayed out all around her
pale face, making the blonde strands appear darker. Her small freckles were nearly
unrecognizable, and her lips were the same color of her sallow flesh.

Chase dropped to
his knees beside her.

The paramedic
stopped checking her vitals just long enough to ask him if he knew who she was.

He looked down
at her and couldn’t stop himself from saying what part of him honestly
believed. “She’s mine. Well, she’s my…” He had difficulty getting the words out,
but the man assumed she was his wife. That little misunderstanding had earned Chase
a ride in the ambulance with Little Miss Wholesome.  

Some twenty-four
hours later, Chase was ready to bring his new wife home. Although she griped
the whole way, he carried her in his arms over the threshold. It wasn’t some cliché
newlywed gesture. Chase just wanted to be sure she didn’t overexert herself. He
needed her to have a speedy recovery, and he couldn’t have her overdoing it.
She needed to get better so she could help him out in a couple weeks
.
At
least that’s what he tried to convince himself as to why he wanted to hold her
so close to his body as he carried her to his bedroom and settled her gently
onto his king-sized bed. “Make yourself at home—”

“Home?” She let
out a cute but derisive little snort. “This isn’t a home. It’s something out of
MTV
Cribs
, a penthouse or something. Do you live here, on the thirteenth
floor of your company’s building?” She gave him a crooked smile. “You do know most
people don’t have a thirteenth floor, right?”

“They only skip
it to prevent problems with superstitious tenants or customers. I don’t believe
in bad luck, fairytales, or any shit like that. Besides, I’m the only one who
comes up here.”

She let out
another dainty snort. “Right. As if countless women haven’t trolloped through
here.”

He stopped and
looked down at her. “Not in the past year.”

“Oh. So I take
it you’re not in a relationship then?”

“I think you
misunderstood what I said. I haven’t had a woman up here in a year, but I don’t
do long-term relationships.”

“Not ever?”

“Never,” he
confirmed.

“So the women you’ve
brought up here were, um…just for…”

“I think the
word you’re searching for is sex, and the answer is yes. I am a man after all,
Jess. I may not buy into all that happily-ever-after bullshit, but I still have
needs. Anyway, please make yourself comfortable while I get you something to
drink.” He started for the door, then stopped and turned to look at her. His
large bed consumed her small body, where she sat with her pretty mouth agape.

“Are you hungry?
Want an omelet or a grilled cheese sandwich or something?” He decided that if she
was going to sit there with her mouth opened like that, he might as well put
something in it. And food was the safest thing he could think of at that moment.

“There’s no need
to make your maid fuss over me.” She smirked. “I assume you have one of those,
of course, Mr. Lennox.”

“As a matter of
fact, I do. Nora comes every Monday morning, but while I may not like to clean
toilets, I am perfectly capable of feeding myself. And, as I asked you before, call
me Chase.”

He caught the
flicker of surprise in her amber eyes, but she still managed to hold her smirk
in place. “Grilled cheese, I guess.” When he nodded and started for the door, she
finished with a snarky, “Thank you, Mr. Lennox.”

Cringing at her
stubbornness, he wondered if she knew how much it bothered him that she refused
to use his first name. Everyone called him “Mr. Lennox,” and he was tired of
it. Not to mention that it had always made him feel older than what he really
was.

He stopped at his dresser and dug through the second drawer until
he found the flannel pajamas Mamie had given to him as a Christmas present a
few years back. He’d never worn them, wearing anything to bed reminded him of the
constricting tie he had to endure during his sixteen-hour days.

“Here.” He tossed the flannels on the
end of the bed. “They might be too big, but they’re clean. When you’re done
eating, I’ll run you a bath, and you can put those on.”

Chase wanted to be sure his guest was completely covered,
because even the little span of skin that was exposed between the top of her
shirt and her neck was beckoning his mouth to give it a taste. And then there
was that area from her wrist to forearm. He wanted to run his tongue up her
delicate wrist. Run it right up to that snarky but pretty pink mouth of hers. Hell,
he’d give those sassy lips a real good lashing too.

“Then we’ll talk about
my proposition and what is expected of you,
Mrs. Lennox.
” Her mouth snapped
opened, but he raised an eyebrow, and she clamped it back shut. Besides food, being
closed was the second safest thing for that pretty mouth. “Rest for now,” he
said, pleased but surprised that she was being so compliant as he walked out of
the silent room.

Jessina glanced around the bedroom she’d been conveniently
dumped into. He had her right where he wanted, under his complete control. His
proposition still vague, but she had to admit it was all a bit intriguing. She
was curious as to what the sexy tycoon expected of her. She hadn’t agreed to
anything yet, but she had to agree to at least hear him out when he’d taken her
out of the hospital. The doctor refused to release her without the guarantee that
someone would be with her for the next couple of days. Being three hours away
from home, no doubt fighting another bout of depression, her mother was unable
to help. And Jon, the only other real friend she could trust in Caliente since
her return from California, was busy enjoying his new role of fatherhood. Jessina
quickly accepted that she was stuck with Chase Lennox. Tag! He was it. There
was no one else, and the smug son-of-a-bitch somehow knew it.  

The bedroom walls were slate gray
with a flat finish, warm but a tad on the dark side. A huge, frameless window was
located directly across from the bed, and the wall sort of blended from plaster
to glass. There were no curtains either
. God, it must be a real bitch in the
morning, with the sunlight beaming right on the bed, making it all hot and
bright.
Not that it’s not hot enough already with Chase Lennox’s body in
it.

There were three doors. She presumed one was to a bathroom,
one to a closet, and the other to her would-be escape route. But like the man himself,
whatever was truly behind Door Number One or Two was just as much of a mystery.
Chase Lennox was peculiar and controlling, but he was also sexy as hell. And he
was currently making her a grilled cheese sandwich. The very image of his fine
ass standing over a griddle messed with her dislike for the arrogant
multimillionaire.

A few minutes later, he
waltzed through her escape route carrying a plate and a glass. He set them on
the nightstand. His eyes rolled over her and, like a bulldozer, they crushed her
ability to believe that she could ignore the strong attraction she felt for
him. Those blue steamrollers slowly spun back up over her heated, firm breasts.
Her nipples turned to hard little pebbles, and there was a painful tug between
her legs.
Who the hell accomplishes that kind of response from a mere roll
of the eyes? Moreover, does the man even know he’s doing it?
She pulled the
blankets up to her chin.
Of course he does. He knows exactly what he’s
doing.

“Eat, and I’ll
go draw your bath,” he said in a demanding tone.

She was about to
argue but when he turned away, her eyes slithered from the sandwich to his palm-biting
ass. She had to eat something before she became delirious enough to go after the
sexy son-of-a-bitch to sedate the other hunger she felt—her appetite for Chase
Lennox.

The bread was almost
to her mouth when he entered Door Number Two, which turned out to be a bathroom
after all. She took a bite and watched him lean over the whirlpool. Once they
kicked in, the jets quickly muffled the rushing water. She gobbled down her
food, desperate to get into that soothing bath.  

An hour later,
she was back on the gigantic bed, washed and clothed in Chase’s huge flannels,
something she couldn’t picture the cocky tycoon wearing to bed. She pictured him
as a boxers man or, even more appealing, a guy who went commando between the
sheets. Shaking the image from her mind, she watched Chase walk into the
bedroom with a laptop in his hand. He set it on the opposite nightstand. He’d
changed into a t-shirt and lounge pants. The shirt clung to him, revealing yet
another winning asset of Mr. Lennox’s— his biceps. The guy was tall, lean, and
cut, like a baseball player before the steroids.

“The sandwich
was good. I like tomatoes on my grilled cheese, but not many people make it
that way,” she said. Her stomach was full, but the hunger in other parts of her
body remained unquenched.

“Yeah, it’s the
only way I know how to make it. That’s how Mamie used to do it when I was a
kid.”

“Mamie? Who’s
that?”

“The lady who
raised me after my mother left us.” He pulled up a chair alongside the bed.

Left?
Us?
She wanted to ask more, but when he sat down and rested his forearms, those
sexy, tan, muscular limbs, on his thighs and leaned in toward her, Jessina’s
mind went blank.

He looked her
straight in the eyes, those steamrollers all revved up and rearing to go. “Are
you ready to discuss my proposition?” His voice was low and scratchy. She could
have imagined it, but the sound waves sent unspoken erotic promises through the
room and through her.

The muscles in
her thighs tightened. Something they were getting used to doing whenever he got
too close. Out of respect for her comfort zone, she made an effort to distance
herself. She pressed back into the pillow before answering, “What’s there to
discuss? You want me to pretend to be your wife for two weeks, right?”

“Three weeks. Arthur
Caplin will be in town in two weeks. He’ll stay for a few days, and during that
time, I…I mean
we
will wine and dine him. We need to prepare, to get to
know each other. I’ll be here with you for the next couple days, just as the
doctor ordered.”

“What about your
job?”

“I can work from
here, on my laptop. After that, though, my time will be limited, so you’ll have
to stay here, in my apartment—”

“Hold it! You
want me to
stay
with you for the next two weeks?”

“Correct. We’ll
stay at my ranch in Boulder City on the weekends—”

Stay
at his ranch? He has a ranch? Maybe that’s where he got the tan. God, I can
picture him riding a horse and pitching hay with his shirt off, sweat
glistening on his…damn it.
She shook her head. “Wait. Slow
down. You’re making all these plans, and I haven’t even given you my answer
yet,” she pointed out, trying to put the delicious imagery out of her mind.

“You’re right.”
He rested a hand on his thigh. “What if you think about it for the next two
days while you’re recuperating here, and then you can make your decision when
you’re stronger? If you decline my offer, I will take you home. Deal?”

It sounded
reasonable, and he didn’t seem to be pressuring her for an answer. Really, with
nowhere else to go and very limited options, she nodded. “Deal.”

“Good. Now, I
need to catch up on some work.”

He walked over
and turned off the light but didn’t exit the room. Instead, he walked back
toward the bed, turned on the lamp that was on the nightstand, and picked up
his laptop.

Whew!
For a second there, I thought he was gonna get in bed and—

His knee hit the
bed.

“What the hell
are you doing? You’re not sleeping in here with me!”

“Of course I am,
dear
. We’re
married
.” He settled onto the mattress and set the
laptop down on his thighs.

“But…but…” She
fumbled for words as he fluffed the pillow, placed it behind his back, and then
leaned against the headboard.

“There.” He straightened
the slipping notebook on his lap, before flipping it open. “Don’t worry. I
haven’t forgotten about your space issues.”