After the Party (10 page)

“Dining room,” he said with a decisive nod and turned quickly on his heel.

His stride was long and purposeful as he maneuvered through a living room whose furnishings were clean-lined and contemporary in style. Along the way, he ditched his suit coat, which he tossed over the back of the sofa. His dress shirt fit snug over his shoulders and tapered at the waist before disappearing into dark trousers.
Mmm.
Nice rear view.

“What do you think?” he asked as they arrived at their destination.

What did she think? Now there was a loaded question given the inappropriate images that were popping around in her head like heated kernels of corn. She paced to the other side of the room and concentrated on the decor.

“Nice table.” Large. Flat. Handy.

“I can put in another leaf,” he said.

“I don’t know that you’ll need to. It’s expansive even without it.” She ran her hand over the edge of the dark wood, as her body hummed with need. It could easily accommodate them.

“What about the sideboard?” He motioned behind her.

She turned and gave it the once-over. The piece sported the same dark stain and clean lines as the table, but it was topped in white marble streaked with gray veins, making it a much harder and colder surface than the table. Still...

“It’s a good height.” In fact, if Ella were to sit on its edge, Chase’s mouth would be level with... She closed her eyes briefly. “Perfect.”

“Yeah? What will you use it for?”

She felt heat flood into her cheeks, as well as other parts of her anatomy, and fought the urge to fan herself as she stammered, “W-well, um, let’s see...”

“Appetizers?” he suggested.

“Sure. Appetizers.” She nodded.

“Or maybe it would be good for cocktails. I can put out bottles of liquor and mixers and my guests can serve themselves prior to the meal. What do you think?”

She was expected to think? Eyes glued to the marble top, she managed to say, “That would be another excellent use.”

“But you have something else in mind. I can tell.”

“I, um...” Her gaze cut back to Chase then, taking in broody eyes, lean cheeks and a mouth that, as far as she was concerned, should be registered as a lethal weapon. Despite the unruly cowlick, his sandy hair was impossibly neat. His shoulders were broad, and accented in a white dress shirt whose crisp cotton was divided down the middle by a length of navy-and-red-striped silk.

“I...I...”

“Go on. Be honest, Ella.”

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” she murmured and a husky laugh rumbled out.

“Tell me.”

She waited a beat, almost hoping the words in her head weren’t the ones that would slip from her tongue. No such luck, she realized, but without too much regret, when she heard herself tell him, “I’d like you to lose your tie.”

Chase’s mouth fell open momentarily before he managed a response. “What did you just say?”

They had already established that Ella was unconventional and perhaps even a bit of a kook. So, what the hell?

“The tie. I want you to take it off.” She shrugged. “You told me I could be honest.”

“I meant about my dining room.”

“But that’s not why you brought me here.”

He shook his head as if to clear it. “What are you talking about?”

“You.” She winked. “And me.” This time she bobbed her eyebrows.

He made a series of incoherent sounds that served as his reply. She doubted someone as cool and collected as Chase Trumbull was ever quite so inarticulate with other people.

Score one for me.

“In your office earlier today, before you got all pissy with me.” She sent him a grin. “Which I forgive you for, by the way—”

“You—”

“Forgive you. Yes.”

She wasn’t sure why she was pushing Chase, or, for that matter, why she was pursuing him in such a bold fashion. It wasn’t like her to be this assertive when it came to men. As a result, from high school on, Ella had found herself in a long-term relationship with Bradley, the perfect match in everyone’s opinion except her own. Since their breakup, she hadn’t dated much. She’d been too busy trying to cobble together a new life for herself, and trying, albeit unsuccessfully, to help her father find his footing, both financially and emotionally.

But the men she had gone out with had been totally wrong for her. Or married, in the case of the jerk who’d neglected to mention he had a knitting-needle-wielding wife.

Chase probably was all wrong for her, too. As Ella had told Sandra, the two of them had nothing in common except a party and a boatload of sexual chemistry.

That wasn’t quite true, she amended. They both had lost a parent. And they both had grown up in a household with another quasi-sibling, who’d made their life difficult.

Her reasonable self told her turned-on self to stop, given what he’d just said about California and his life there. A life to which he apparently would return. But she didn’t care. Right now, she wanted to feel the burn. The fallout...she’d deal with that another time.

“Ella, I’m very attracted to you, but I brought you here for business. I don’t...I don’t mix business with pleasure.”

She called him out on that. “Really? When we were back in your office, are you saying that I imagined your mouth on my b—”

“No! But I’m not like Owen. That sort of...behavior doesn’t belong in the workplace.”

“It’s not an ideal setting. Too many disruptions. Not enough practical flat surfaces,” she finished, feeling emboldened when a glance down revealed that Chase’s body was in agreement with her.

“Yes.” He cleared his throat. “I mean, that’s not the point I am trying to make.”

If they were talking about points, Ella decided she’d scored another one, because his gaze had now drifted from her eyes to her mouth. It settled there briefly before heading to the V where her jacket came together. Was he remembering the moment when he’d peeled it back? She certainly was.

“We’re not in your workplace now,” she told him.

His gaze snapped back to hers. “Technically, we’re in yours.” He cleared his throat. “What are your thoughts on workplace fraternization?”

Ella smiled. “I’m all for it, as long as both parties are in agreement. So?”

His hand moved to his tie. He loosened the knot and pulled it away from his collar.

“Is that your answer?”

He smiled. Full-on. Her heart skipped several beats only to make up the difference a moment later when he added, “Your turn. The jacket. Take it off.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to? You did a pretty good job undressing me in your office.”

His eyes lit up at the mention of that. “I’d rather watch you do it this time.”

“All right.” She did as he commanded, moving with excruciating slowness. Afterward, Ella reached for him. “Now, let me tell you what I have in mind for your sideboard.”

EIGHT

Sex complicated things.
Chase had never been in a relationship with a woman when it hadn’t. So he was a little surprised that after a few hours of indulging in the mind-blowing variety with Ella, she hopped up from the bed—they’d eventually made it out of the dining room—and announced that she had to be going.

No clinging. No covert glances. No asking when he would call or even if. The only question she posed was, “Any idea where I left my panties?”

Like he was supposed to remember something like that? Hell, Chase figured he was doing pretty well to recall his own name in the afterglow of some of the best sex he’d ever had. Still, he swung his legs over the side of the mattress and stood, pulling on a pair of clean boxers before he followed her out of the room. He was game to help Ella look for her panties, especially if it meant he got to watch her walk around the penthouse wearing nothing but her black cami and a satisfied smile.

They came across her jacket slung across a chair in the dining room where she’d peeled it off at his command. Her pants were in a heap on the floor next to the sideboard, along with her sexy heels, his wingtips and most of his clothing. As for her panties, however, even a thorough search failed to turn them up.

Not that he was complaining.

“The waist will be big, but you can borrow a pair of my boxers,” he offered, growing hard just thinking about the way Ella’s curves would fill out the checkered cotton.

“Thanks, but I’ll pass.” She glanced at her watch and grimaced. “I won’t have enough time to stop at my apartment. I guess I’ll have to go commando.”

She stepped into the pants and began pulling them up. Odd, but Chase found watching her dress almost as much of a turn-on as watching her disrobe. She put on shoes next, her movements deft and decisive even as he was having second thoughts about letting her leave. He had to get back to the office. He’d been away too long already. But...

“Where are you off to in such a hurry?” he asked, managing to sound casual despite his mounting curiosity.

“I’m meeting my father to look at an apartment, and then we’re going to have an early dinner.” She smiled then, mismatched eyes lighting up with pride. “My treat, now that I’m gainfully employed.”

“Are you moving?” Chase asked.

God, he hoped so. He really didn’t like her neighborhood or her apartment building, even if he was pretty sure that he’d solved the brick-as-doorstop issue with the downstairs neighbors.

“No. My father is. He’s been staying at a friend’s condo on Long Island since...” The corners of her mouth turned down briefly. “Anyway, his friend wants to lease it out now, so Dad needs to find a new place.”

Left unsaid was that her father couldn’t afford the condo’s rent.

“So, where’s he looking?”

“Brooklyn. There’s a decent-size walkup that his real estate agent says comes partially furnished. It’s close to a grocery store and public transit. I’m not familiar with the neighborhood, but the place sounds pretty nice.”

The place sounded like a huge step down from Oscar’s previous address, although probably not as far down as her studio in Lower Manhattan was, but Chase didn’t say so. Instead, he asked, “What time do you think you’ll be home tonight?”

Ella had been tying the belt on her jacket. She stopped, glanced up. “Why?”

Why indeed. It was none of his business, even if they just had engaged in amazing sex.

Chase shrugged. “No reason. I was just wondering.”

“If you’re worried about the invitations to your dinner party, I’m planning to address and hand-deliver them first thing in the morning.”

His dinner party and, more importantly, his uncle’s wake. Those were what Chase should be concerned about right now, not whether Ella got home safely. Or what she would be wearing when she finally went to bed that night.

“Excellent. And the menu?”

“I’ll call you tomorrow after I speak with the manager at The Colton.”

As he walked her back through the penthouse to the elevator, awkwardness settled in. Chase prided himself on always knowing what to say, whether to a woman with whom he’d just made love or a business rival eager to thwart Trumbull’s bottom line. But he was tongue-tied now and felt oddly conspicuous.

At the elevator, he blurted out, “Thanks.”

Ella eyed him, her expression puzzled, and no wonder. Thanks? It wasn’t exactly what a woman expected to hear as she left a guy’s place after brain-scrambling sex.

“Um, for coming.” His double-entendre of a clarification made things worse.

Chase went to tuck his hands into his pockets, only to realize he wasn’t wearing pants. He settled them on his waist instead, just above the logoed band of his boxers. He was searching for a way to restore his cool and salvage the situation when her mouth curved with a satisfied grin.

“That was entirely my pleasure.”

She leaned in and gave him a kiss before boarding the elevator. “I’ll be in touch tomorrow,” she promised.

After the doors closed, Chase found himself smiling, too. Damned if he wasn’t looking forward to her call.

Which made his conscience prick when he found the list of seasoned party planners he’d compiled for his uncle and dialed the number of the one at the top. As much as he wanted Ella to succeed at her new venture, he couldn’t take any chances. His uncle had hired her and was determined to keep her on, but that didn’t mean Chase couldn’t pay for the advice of a real professional and surreptitiously feed it to Ella as needed.

* * *

Ella unscrewed the lid on a jar of peanut butter and scooped out a spoonful, which she drizzled with chocolate syrup before putting it in her mouth.

The treat was high in calories, but relatively low in cost. When she’d no longer been able to afford her favorite imported Belgium chocolates, she’d come up with this and other creative ways to indulge her sweet tooth. She gave the spoon a final lick before placing it in the sink next to her coffee cup and cereal bowl. Even something simple could be satisfying.

What was going on with Chase was a case in point. It was sex, pure and simple. Okay, with a side of work thrown in. But it wasn’t a relationship. As long as she kept that in mind, everything would be fine. And fun.

As Ella had told Madame Maroushka, she wasn’t looking for a man. She was after gainful employment, something that would pay her bills and maybe offer some personal satisfaction. Eventually, a position would open up in her chosen field. Fashion, after all, was her passion.

Or was it?

A little voice whispered that maybe she’d found a new passion. Unsure whether it was referring to party planning or Chase, Ella chose to ignore it.

If only she could ignore the ache around her heart where her father was concerned. She sighed, recalling the time they’d spent together the previous day. It had started with his disapproval over her choice in outfits, and gone downhill from there.

Ella hadn’t planned to meet her father wearing the suit, given its negative association. Of course, neither had she planned to spend three hours in Chase’s apartment exploring his body and trying not to moan too loudly while he discovered new erogenous zones on hers.

Chase.
Mmm.

Ella tipped her head back and squirted some chocolate syrup directly onto her tongue. Unfortunately, neither the syrup nor memories of the yummy man could eradicate the sour taste that spending time with her dad had left in her mouth.

By the end of the visit, she’d wanted to give her father a good shake, tell him to get over it already, to move on and man up. She’d stayed silent, despite Oscar’s comments about her new career. He was embarrassed that she could wind up planning parties for the sort of people whose homes they had once been invited into as guests. Worse, when she’d told him about Elliot Trumbull’s bash, he’d expressed doubt that she could pull it off.

She had doubts, too. What she needed was her father’s support and encouragement. She had neither. That hurt, so much so that it was a relief when he’d launched into a litany of complaints regarding the Brooklyn walkup his Realtor showed them. It was much too small, Oscar claimed. Never mind that it was ten times larger than Ella’s current apartment and had half a dozen windows, a couple of which offered a decent view of a nearby park.

Its furnishings were subpar and showed signs of wear, Oscar lamented. Okay, so the table wasn’t a Duncan Phyfe, but it was an actual table. And the queen-size bed he’d turned up his nose at had her lumpy futon beat all to hell.

In the end, Oscar told her he’d lost his appetite and would have to take a rain check on dinner. They’d parted ways outside the building he’d deemed to be in a slum. The Realtor left in his minivan after promising to be in touch soon. Oscar? He’d called for a car to take him back to Long Island. God only knew how he could afford it. Ella, meanwhile, had taken the subway to Lower Manhattan and hoofed the final three blocks home in sweltering heat. Her feet were still angry with her, which was why she was wearing ballet flats today.

She recapped the peanut butter and put both it and the chocolate syrup away. Where she’d learned to improvise and lower her expectations to match her reality, her father was determined to continue indulging his champagne taste on a budget that allowed for beer, and the cheap domestic variety, at that.

Ella sighed again. Then, pushing away thoughts of her father, she got to work. On the morning’s agenda? Hand-delivering the invitations for Chase’s dinner party and a lunch meeting with the manager of The Colton. The bonus? The samples she planned to taste would double as her lunch. It paid to be inventive.

Two hours later, all of the invitations had been delivered except one: Elliot’s. Of course, he already knew the date and place, since they’d discussed it in his office only the day before, but she’d gone ahead and filled one out for him. Attention to detail. That was going to be one of the hallmarks of her new business. Now she stood in the lobby of Trumbull Toys debating the wisdom of boarding the elevator and possibly running into Chase.

Ella had no regrets about yesterday—except that it had had to end. She wasn’t a shy virgin and wouldn’t feel awkward seeing him today. But she didn’t want to make it seem as if she was stalking him simply because they’d spent a memorable few hours in the sack.

“I’m a professional,” she muttered aloud and punched the up button. “I’m here for a legitimate reason.”

“And what reason might that be?”

She turned to find Owen behind her.

“Delivering an invitation to your uncle.”

“For Chase’s little party?”

She nodded, not caring for the derisive tone, even if she now understood the reason behind it.

“I can give it to him if you’d like. I don’t mind playing your delivery boy.”

He held out his hand, tracing a finger over her cheek. This went beyond flirting. Ella stepped away.

“Thanks, but I need to see Elliot anyway.”

Owen shrugged. The elevator arrived and they boarded. After it started its ascent, Ella fixed her gaze on the digital display above the door, watching the number change as they passed each floor.

They were closing in on nine when Owen asked, “So, what’s on the agenda for Chase’s soiree? I’m guessing boring conversation, old-fashioned cocktails and bland food. My cousin doesn’t do spicy.”

Ella didn’t care for his belittling remarks. Or his not-so-veiled swipe at his cousin’s manhood. Chase might not be the sort to advertise the party to be found in his pants, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t there. As she’d discovered firsthand.

“Could have fooled me,” she murmured before she could think better of it.

From the corner of her eye, she caught Owen’s surprised look. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing.”

But he wasn’t put off. “Don’t tell me—you and Chase?”

Ella had to work to keep a smile from turning up the corners of her mouth. She’d dived headfirst into the deep end of the still water that was Chase Trumbull and had enjoyed doing the backstroke.

Owen snorted before laughing outright. His mirth left her uneasy.

“Diddling with the hired help,” he drawled. “I didn’t know my cousin had it in him. He’s been such a stickler for rules in the workplace since he came on board at Trumbull. Sucked the fun right out of the place.”

Owen’s diddling comment was intended to get a rise out of her. Ella knew that. But she took the bait anyway and offered a slow wink when she told him, “Chase and I diddled off the clock and away from the workplace. No rules were broken.”

Owen’s eyes went flat, even as he grinned. “If you want to try out the company’s first string, let me know. I’m happy to oblige.”

When the doors opened a moment later, she was eager to step out of the elevator and bid Owen goodbye. Chase’s door was ajar, but he wasn’t at his desk. Elliot’s door was closed. Ella shot a smile in the direction of the dourly dressed trio seated behind the reception desk. To her surprise, the foosball table she remembered from the documentary was back.

“I have an invitation to deliver to Elliot, as well as some suggestions for the entertainment for his party,” she added last minute. He hadn’t actually asked for any during yesterday’s meeting, but they gave her a bona fide reason beyond the invitation to be here. “Is he in?”

“Yes, but he’s busy at the moment. You can give everything to me,” the woman who’d given her the guest list for the wake offered.

That posed a problem, since the list Ella had concocted was only in her head. She handed over the invitation and said, “I’ll call him later to discuss my suggestions. Or shoot him an email.”

She was crossing to the elevator when Chase came out of Elliot’s office and called her name.

His smile was warm, his gaze hot.

“Here to see me?” he asked.

“Elliot actually. I was just dropping off his invitation to your party.” She smiled smugly. “All of them have been delivered.”

“You’ve had a busy morning.”

She nodded, suddenly tongue-tied when she recalled how “busy” they’d been the day before. She glanced away and her gaze landed on the foosball table.

She pointed to it. “I like the new addition.”