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So I keep it all to myself.
“I don’t know what you mean,” I say instead. Ignoring her look of distrust, I take her arm and link it with mine once more, directing her back to Alice and Raymond. “Let’s go get you your girl, shall we?”
7
BELL
My wooing skills need work.
Chase’s wooing skills? They need no help.
After Chase realized his mistake about my interest in Alice (I can’t not laugh when I think of it), he’d simply ushered Alice and me up to his office and laid on the charm. When I tried persuading Alice to move into marketing, she’d been reluctant. Then Chase mentioned a salary increase, more benefits, better insurance, and poof! A huge smile overtook Alice’s face as she received a copy of my schedule, the agenda for the upcoming meeting, and a few words of encouragement from Moore’s head honcho.
Chase may wink and laugh with ease. And yes, the ladies may love him. But he was nothing but professional while talking with Alice, knowing exactly what she needed to hear to boost her self-confidence, recognize her abilities, and take the chance on a new position.
Watching him be both professional and courteous is a serious turn-on. Which is bad. There’s already this informal camaraderie between us that shouldn’t be there. It’s the reason I haven’t given him permission to call me Bell. I don’t need to blur any more lines.
It’s as if we’ve known each other a lot longer than two days and a phone call. Maybe it’s because he saw my nipples. Or knows what color panties I like. Whatever it is, I can’t let myself be less than professional. Even if he is charming and has the physique of an Olympic swimmer, with dark hair that’s a day or two past needing a trim, and large, graceful hands…
No. Not going down that road. Going down… Shoot, now I’m thinking about going down on Chase Moore. My dirty, dirty mind is obviously against me. I really should’ve listened to Leslie and opened up an online dating profile. This sex drought I’m experiencing must be affecting my professionalism.
“Thanks so much for this opportunity, Ms. King, Mr. Moore,” Alice says, hugging the folder full of paperwork to her chest and, thankfully, pulling me out of my dirty daydreams.
“No, thank you, Alice. You just did me a solid, putting your artistic talents to better use for the company,” Chase says smoothly while guiding her to the door. “And remember, it’s Chase, not Mr. Moore.”
Alice nods, still wide-eyed, thanks us again, and leaves to finish her shift in the shoe department before reporting in with the rest of my team tomorrow in the conference room.
“The coffee’s probably cold by now.” Chase gestures to the drink carrier I’d placed on his office coffee table and picks up the phone. “I’ll get my assistant to have more sent up.”
I want to protest, but honestly, I know my team. They need to be properly caffeinated. “Thanks.”
“No problem.”
While he’s on the phone, I walk over to the mostly empty shelves. I say mostly, since whereas there was nothing but shiny mahogany glaring at me when I was here yesterday, today there are three photos scattered on one large shelf. In one photo, a younger Raymond, maybe thirty or so, though still as stiff-looking as ever, is bent at the waist, eye to eye with an elementary-school-aged Chase. The older man’s stern but loving expression is at humorous odds with Chase’s impish grin.
At first glance, the second photo is of a random clothing rack. But on closer inspection, two pairs of shoes peek out from beneath the clothes—one pair of red girls’ sandals and one of scuffed-up boys’ sneakers.
The third photo makes me chuckle. It’s a teenage Chase, standing next to a slightly younger Susan. Susan is smiling at the camera, but Chase’s eyes are cutting to the side where an attractive salesgirl, maybe in her twenties, is working.
“As you can see, Raymond and Susan have known me most of my life.”
I jump, not having heard Chase move up behind me.
“Our conversation yesterday reminded me of these photos.” His finger drags along the side of one of the brass frames.
“It did?”
“Yep.” He picks up the one of him and Susan. “What you can’t see in this photo is my sister, crouched just off camera, ready to pounce.”
“Your sister? All I see is a hormonal teenage boy ready to pounce on an unsuspecting salesgirl.” I look closer at the picture, taking in Chase’s slightly leaner frame and longer, shaggy hair. His expression is just an older version of the mischievous grin he gave Raymond in the first photo.
“Yes, I was planning my next attempt at seduction with Serena.” He taps on the girl in the picture. “But I shouldn’t have bothered. Liz took care of it for me in the end.” His grin is rather sheepish. “Remember that story I told you yesterday? Well, this was the moment just before she pantsed me.”
“Oh my god. No.” I laugh out loud, imagining the confident, handsome boy in the picture getting taken down a peg by an equally mischievous sister.
“Oh, yes. But not to worry.” He places the frame back on the shelf. “I had the last laugh.”
“And how’s that?”
