Powerful and Proud: Beneath the Veil of Paradise / In the Heat of the Spotlight / His Brand of Passion

‘You want me to be serious?’ He let out a long-suffering sigh and handed her a plate. ‘In that case, I need sustenance.’

They sat in a dining alcove, the floor-to-ceiling windows giving an endless view of the ocean darkening to damson under a twilit sky.

‘Your favourite part of the day,’ Chase said softly, and a thrill ran through her—a thrill at the thought that this man was starting to know her. And that she liked it.

How terrifying.

‘So?’ Millie said, attempting to banish that thrill. ‘Why the change?’

Chase speared a piece of chicken. ‘Remember I told you my father decided he didn’t want me in the family business?’

‘That was, I assume, after the girlfriend incident?’

‘Correct. That, of course, just made me more determined to be as bad as I could be.’

‘How old were you?’

‘Seventeen.’

Millie felt a surprising tug of sympathy for the teenaged Chase. Normally she’d just roll her eyes at even the thought of some spoiled rich kid going through cars and women at a break-neck speed, but when she knew it was Chase... When she knew he wasn’t shallow or spoiled, had more depth than most people she met... Well, it felt different. She felt different.

‘So you were super-bad, then?’

‘More of the same, really. Parties, cars, women, drink. Some recreational drug use I’m definitely not proud of.’ He still spoke lightly, but she saw shadows in his eyes. Felt them in her heart. What a sad, empty life. And her life, in a totally different way, had been sad and empty too. Still was.

‘So what was your life-changing moment?’

He gave her a speculative glance. ‘This is getting pretty personal.’

She swallowed and decided not to dissemble. ‘I know.’

Chase speared another bit of chicken and chewed slowly before answering. ‘My father died. I was finishing college, I’d been studying architecture more for the hell of it than anything else. I was still pretty much a waste of space.’ He paused, and Millie almost reached out to him, touched him, even just a hand on his arm. She stopped herself and Chase continued.

‘I found out from his will that he’d legally disowned me from inheriting anything. Cut me out completely. It was what he’d threatened to do years before, but I guess I didn’t really believe he meant it until then. And, while I have to admit I was pretty disappointed that I wouldn’t be getting any of his money, I felt something worse.’ He glanced away, his expression shuttering. ‘Disappointment. Disappointment in myself, and how little I’d made of my life.’

Then Millie couldn’t stop herself. All in, right? She reached across the table and touched Chase’s hand, just a whisper of her fingers against his, but it was big for her and she thought he knew that. He glanced down at their touching hands and then looked up, smiling wryly.

‘Not that inspiring a story, really.’

‘Actually, it is. You recognised your mistakes and did something about them. Most people don’t get that far.’

‘Did you?’

The blunt question startled her. All this intimacy and sharing was great until he turned the tables on her. She withdrew her hand. ‘Maybe, in a manner of speaking.’ She paused, her fingers clenching into an involuntary fist. ‘But it was too late.’

‘Why was it too late, Millie?’ She shook her head. She’d said too much. ‘All these secrets,’ Chase said lightly. ‘You know it only makes you more intriguing, right? Sexier too. And it makes me want to find out what you’re hiding.’

‘Trust me, it’s not sexy. Or intriguing. It’s just...’ She let out a breath. ‘Sad. In a lot of different ways. And the reason I don’t want to tell you is because you’ll look at me differently.’

‘Would that be a bad thing?’

‘Yes, it would.’ She liked the way Chase teased her. Riled her. Yes, he made her uncomfortable, but he also made her feel real and alive. He didn’t tiptoe around her feelings, didn’t tinge every smile with pity or uncertainty. Didn’t look at her like she was a walking tragedy.

The way everyone else did.

Maybe that was what had attracted her to him in the first place—the fact that he didn’t really know her at all. And yet, Millie had to acknowledge, he did know her. The real her. He just didn’t know what had happened in her life.

And she liked it that way.

Yet how could he really know her, without knowing that?

Tired of the tangle of her thoughts, she rose from the table. ‘Didn’t you say something about a movie?’

Fifteen minutes later, after friendly bickering about whether to see an action flick or worthy drama, they settled on a DVD. Chase sat down on the sofa and before Millie could debate where to sit he pulled her down next to him, fit her snugly next to him and draped his arm around her shoulders. Millie tensed for just a second and then relaxed into Chase’s easy embrace. Why was she fighting this? The weight of his arm and the solid strength of his body felt good.

She tried to pay attention to the movie—the worthy drama she had insisted upon—but she was so tired that her eyelids were drooping halfway through. She must have dozed off, for some time later she stirred to find herself being scooped up in Chase’s arms.

‘I can’t believe I sat through something with subtitles so you could fall asleep on me,’ Chase said, and there was so much affection in his voice that Millie curled naturally into the warmth of him, putting her arms around his neck.

‘Time for bed, Scary,’ he muttered, and she heard a catch in his voice. As he carried her through the villa to the bedroom in the back, Millie had the sleepy, hazy thought that there was nowhere else she’d rather be. In Chase’s house. In Chase’s arms. Going to Chase’s bed.

CHAPTER SEVEN (#u05679086-c80e-5dc4-ba86-e2c794dd1af8)

MILLIE woke early, just as dawn was sliding its first pale fingers across the floor. She always woke early; quarter to five was usual. Yet, instead of bolting upright and practically sprinting to the shower, she woke slowly, languorously, stretching before she rolled over, propping herself up on one elbow to gaze at Chase.

He was fast asleep, his hair rumpled, his breathing slow and even. He looked gorgeous, and since he was asleep she let herself study him: the strong, stubbly angle of his jaw; the sweep of golden-brown lashes against his cheek. His lips were lush and full, his nose straight. The dawn light caught the golden glints in his close-cropped hair. Her gaze slid lower. He’d taken off his shirt. She’d seen his chest already, of course. He’d practically been shirtless the whole time she’d known him. Yet now she could study the perfect, muscled form; the sprinkling of dark-brown hair that veed lower, broad shoulders tapering to lean hips. The sheet was rucked about those hips, and she couldn’t tell what he was wearing underneath. Dared she peek?

‘Boxers, Scary.’

Her gaze flew back to his face. He was blinking sleep from his eyes and giving her the slowest, sexiest smile Millie had ever seen. Her heart juddered in her chest but she didn’t try to dissemble.

‘I was wondering. You seem like the type to sleep in the buff.’

‘Nope, I’m strictly a boxers man. Sleeping naked can create all sorts of awkward situations, like when your cleaning lady arrives a bit earlier than you expected.’

Her mouth curved. ‘You seem to have experienced a lot of awkward situations.’

‘It certainly makes life a bit more interesting.’

‘I’ll take your word on it.’

He reached out and touched her hair, his fingers threading through it. ‘Your hair’s not so scary when you’ve slept on it.’

‘It’s probably a mess.’

‘I like it.’ He tucked a strand behind her ear, then trailed his fingers along her cheek before resting his thumb on the fullness of her lower lip. ‘Those worry marks look a little better.’

‘Do they?’ Her heart had started the slow, thudding beat of expectation. They were both in a bed. Nearly naked. Had Chase removed her dress last night? She couldn’t remember, but she was wearing one of his tee-shirts. And nothing underneath.