The Bachelor Pact (20 page)

"Oh, yeah."

"What kind of bed would you like in your house?"

Any bed with her on it.
"I don't know, I can't really think right now."

"Well, let's pick some other things first then." Maddie sprang up and pointed to a bearskin rug in the corner. The rug seemed decadent, out of place with the antique furnishings.

"You want to put that rug beside the Duncan Phyfe bed?" Chase's voice squeaked.

Maddie shook her head. "No, the owner bought this at a flea market and planned to take it home for himself, but I thought it might go in your house, Chase. I figured you might want to buy a little more contemporary furniture. Wouldn't it look great next to the Jacuzzi, especially with the black-and-white tiles?"

The guys would laugh themselves silly if he put that bearskin rug in his house.

"Chase?"

"Uh, yeah." But he would love it.

She lay her hand on the soft white fur and began to stroke it up and down with her long red fingernails, eliciting tempting mental pictures of her stroking his back, his chest, his... "You could also put it in the bedroom. It would be nice for long, cozy nights by the fire. You could stretch out after a hard day's work."

And let her massage his aching muscles.

She ran her fingers over the white pile, stroking the fur so it fluffed up and down. "You should try it out. It's so soft and thick and plush, it feels wonderful next to your skin."

Just like she would.

"Go ahead, take off your shoes and walk on it."

He shrugged off his boots, and tested the rug with his feet, smiling at how his toes sank into the thick pile.

"What do you think? You want me to ask the lady to put it on hold?"

Oh, yeah. And, if she'd just sprawl out there naked with him on top of it, everything would be perfect.

* * *

"So, what do you think, Lance?"

"It's nice." Lance tried to concentrate on the house Sophie had just shown him, but it was damn difficult when she was standing in front of him looking as sexy as a centerfold—and she was completely dressed. Sophie tucked a strand of her short, spiked hair behind an earlobe, her silver earrings dangling with the movement.

Why did she have to have those jet-black eyelashes and those emerald-green eyes, which sparkled like stones covered in soft raindrops? And that innocent little look that wasn't innocent at all?

"Nice?" Sophie laughed, a soft musical sound that stirred his nether regions. "It's in pretty bad shape, Lance, but I bought this house for a bargain, and I figure you can help me restore it."

Lance ran his hand along the paint-peeled walls. "You've talked to Mrs. Howard at the historical society?"

"Yes, she's a doll. I've gotten information on the original owners and photos of the woodwork, flooring, moldings, even the tapestries that covered the walls. I'm going to copy as much as I can." She sashayed toward him and placed one clunky heel on the bottom step of the staircase. He couldn't help but notice the way her short maroon skirt hugged her butt and rose to reveal the sexiest little knees he'd ever seen. And he could span her waist with both his hands.

"I just love the Victorian era," Sophie said. "All the attention to detail, the fretwork, all the curved windows and doorways."

Lance shifted onto the balls of his feet, forcing himself to study the grainy wood of the stairwell. "You know they say this house is haunted?"

Sophie glanced at the banister and ran her finger along the slick surface. "I've heard the stories." A dreamy look settled in her eyes. "Something about star-crossed lovers never being able to be with each other because of the war."

Lance nodded. "A British soldier was wounded. When he was injured, the young woman who lived here took him in and hid him, but once he recovered, he had to return to battle. He probably went back to England or died in the war."

"They say her spirit lingers here, waiting for him to return," Sophie said in a low voice. "It's so incredibly sad."

Lance jammed his hands in his pockets. "You don't really believe in that nonsense, do you?"

Sophie quirked an eyebrow. "You mean in true love?"

He would not discuss the
L
word with this woman. Why, she'd already started corrupting his little sister. He certainly wouldn't let her sink her claws into him. "I mean in ghosts."

Sophie leaned against the weathered paneling. "Yes, I believe in ghosts."

This time he raised a brow.

"I think we all have things in our past we want to keep quiet. Issues unsettled, problems that haunt us." Her gaze became hooded, those long eyelashes curling along her ivory skin. She continued in a soft, husky voice, "Secrets that we don't want anyone to know. Wouldn't you agree, Lance?"

Lance's heart thudded to a painful halt, then resumed double-time. He wanted to trust her, but the person he'd trusted the most, his own dad, had deceived him and his family. His dad hadn't been the loyal husband they'd thought; he'd had habits that would have shocked his patients and Reid and Maddie. Had his mother known?

Sophie was still smiling at him, waiting expectantly, hoping to lure him into her trap. She loved hot topics for her show, he still remembered the one about the transvestite Methodist ministers, and then he'd seen the tail end of a volatile episode where several wives had announced on the air they were lesbians.

No, he couldn't get close to Sophie, he couldn't trust her.

In fact, after learning about his father, how could he trust anyone again? Why, he barely trusted Reid and Chase. But they were his blood brothers—they would never let him down or keep anything from him. Thank God.

The serious tone of her voice, the way she kept watching him with those intense liquid eyes—what had she meant? Did Sophie Lane have secrets of her own? Or was she trying to get him to reveal his family secrets?

Or maybe she was hinting that she already knew them.

Chapter 14

Maddie sipped her cappuccino, trying to decide why Chase had been looking at her so oddly while they'd been shopping. At first, she thought he'd been bored to death, but he'd perked up when they'd toured that last antique shop. He'd really liked that four-poster bed and the bearskin rug. What other kinds of things did he like?

She gazed across the river, enjoying their view from the outdoor cafe where they'd stopped for lunch. She had to do something to avoid watching Chase. Sightseers and locals strolled the riverfront edge, lingering to taste the Savannah delicacies or bask in the beautiful spring weather. Tulips sprang up along the shore edge and colorful pansies lined the flower boxes along the storefronts while the breeze from the river fluttered the budding new leaves.

Chase cut into the piece of chocolate pie he'd ordered, lifted the fork to his mouth and made a soft little moan of pleasure, drawing her gaze to his lips, which of course, made her remember their last mouth-watering kiss on her porch. His gaze caught hers, and she instantly glanced at the table, wiping at the perspiration beading on her forehead. Springtime temperatures were always comfortable, ranging from the low sixties to the seventies. But working in close quarters with Chase seemed to jack the heat index up to the hundreds.

Think of him as that other big brother. Focus on work.

"Chase, if I'm going to decorate your house, I really need to know your tastes. Do you have anything specific in mind?"

Like her stretched across that bearskin rug? Sex and sin and a night full of passion they'd both always remember.

There went that odd look again.

He let the pie slide into his mouth, chewed thoughtfully, then swallowed. "Not really."

Maddie licked a dollop of foam off her coffee, her gaze riveted to Chase's when she noticed him follow the movement. "What? Do I have cream on my nose?"

He swallowed audibly. "No."

"Then what? Why do you keep staring at me like that?"

This time he looked away, focusing on a ship docking at the harbor. "No reason."

Maddie sighed. He really didn't want to get personal with her, did he? Oh, well, two could play that game. "I'm simply interested in knowing what kind of furniture you want, Chase, so when I'm shopping, if I spot something you want, I can make a deal."

He ate another bite of the dark-chocolate pie, licking his lips at the rich, sweet taste, making Maddie almost groan. She'd always believed chocolate was a sexual experience when
she
ate it, but she'd never imagined watching someone else consume a slice of pie could be so titillating. Of course, she'd never watched Chase eat before. He might not be the flower-sending kind of guy, but he devoured the dessert slowly, seeming to savor each bite, the rich, delicate flavor, the fluffy almost erotic texture, as if he wanted the pleasurable sensation to last. Would he treat a woman the same way in bed?

She forked a spoonful of her own chocolate sundae, licking the dark syrup with her tongue.

"I just want some basic stuff," Chase finally said.

Basic, as in him on top, her on the bottom?

"Not antiques or anything fancy or impractical. I want to be able to sit on the couch, not show it off."

Maddie blinked, trying to remember what she'd asked him. Oh, yeah, the furniture. "You have a color scheme in mind?"

His sideways frown made her laugh. "Sorry, I guess I should rephrase that. What is your favorite color?"

"Brown?"

She narrowed her eyes. "Brown?"

"Uh, I mean blue. I... I was looking at... nothing."

"You were looking at what, Chase?"

"At your eyes," he said sheepishly. "They're so dark brown sometimes, just like that chocolate syrup on the corner of your mouth." He reached out and wiped the drop off with his thumb, then sucked the tip of his thumb clean. A tingling sensation started in the pit of Maddie's stomach and swirled through her abdomen. "Then other times when the sunlight plays off your eyes, they turn a lighter shade, like caramel candy."

The heat spread through her body, settling in her thighs. Now, she understood that look—lust. On some primal level Chase didn't want to admit because of her brothers, he did want to sleep with her.

Only he'd been right in calling a halt to their love-making the other day.

If she made love with him, she'd probably fall for him and wind up getting hurt, then their working relationship would be ruined. And her brothers... whew. They'd have a fit. No—getting involved with Chase wasn't a good idea. Besides, he was too much like her brothers and she wanted... she wanted independence, to enjoy her freedom. Not to fall in love with an overprotective, macho ladies' man, die-hard bachelor.

She'd just have to look for someone else—

Had Jeff been serious about a reconciliation? Should she consider seeing him again? He did have some romantic tendencies, but...

Maybe she'd keep looking.

"Sorry," Chase mumbled. "That was out of line."

"No problem," Maddie said. "You were right the other night, Chase. Us being together would have been a big mistake."

His dark eyes locked with hers, forceful and penetrating. That lonely, emptiness that seemed to haunt him returned with a vengeance.

"So, let's talk furniture. Do you want fabric for your sofa or leather?"

"Leather."

"Dark colors or light?"

"Dark."

"How about the kitchen? Wallpaper? Paint?"

He shrugged. "Plain white walls."

"What? Not even a navy or maybe a hunter green?"

"I'm a plain kind of guy, Maddie."

Maddie sipped her cappuccino, trying to let that comment slide. But she couldn't resist. "Plain isn't so bad, Chase."

His dark eyes fell to his coffee. "But you like the exciting type, don't you, Mad? That TV producer? The wuss with his pansies?"

"They were roses."

Chase harrumphed. "Or the guy who took you to the nudist colony?"

Maddie flushed. "How did you know about the nudist colony?"

Chase's face suddenly paled. "Uh... oh, your brothers were worried and actually the name of the place showed up on Lance's caller ID."

Maddie's eyes narrowed to slits. "You guys didn't come up there, did you?"

Chase sipped his drink, looking shocked. "Of course not."

Maddie continued to stare at him, wondering why he refused to meet her eyes. She had a feeling she knew—he was feeling guilty about spying on her.

"Okay," he finally admitted. "Lance and Reid wanted to, but I talked them out of making the trip. I wouldn't be caught dead in a place like that."

"What? I didn't think you were shy, Chase."

He glared at her. "I'm not, but I like nude parties to be in private."

Maddie nodded, deciding to go along with him. "Well, Chase, thanks for not coming. I can't tell you... well, how awkward and embarrassing it would have been if they had charged up there after me."

Chase nodded but shifted nervously, downing his drink, confirming her suspicions.

Maddie drummed her fingers on the table and almost burst into laughter at his reaction—Chase Holloway was a rotten liar. The Terrible Three had snuck into that nudist colony, had gotten caught with their pants down, literally, and had been thrown out for acting like Peeping Toms!