Chasin' Eight: Rough Riders, Book 12 (35 page)

“Do you trust me to order for you?”

This was a test. He thought back to the night they’d eaten at the supper club. She’d allowed him to order for her, so she obviously expected the same courtesy. “Sure. But no—”

“Fish. Got it.”

She ordered. When their drinks arrived Ava raised her glass for a toast. “To having fun in the Big Apple.”

He clinked his glass to hers and drank, but he couldn’t tear his gaze away from her face. The lighting gave her an extra golden glow.

“You’re staring at me.”

“Because you’re beautiful.”

She blushed.

Goddamn he loved it when she blushed. “C’mere.”

She leaned across the table until they were nose to nose. “What?”

“This.” Chase angled his head and pressed his mouth to hers, memorizing the shape, softness and taste of her lips beneath his. He let the kiss linger, didn’t use his tongue, only parted his mouth slightly and rubbed his lips over hers twice before he eased back.

They didn’t speak as they took in the ambiance of the restaurant and gazed out the window. Seemed to take forever until their food arrived. His burger had gooey stuff in the middle that tasted like his Aunt Caro’s goose liver spread. The meat was juicy, but the burger would’ve been better with a layer of mustard, onions and pickles—in his opinion.

Ava only ate half of hers and declined dessert and coffee.

The server dropped the bill at Chase’s elbow. He automatically opened it and looked at the damages.

Holy. Fucking. Shit.

“Chase. Gimme that.”

He gaped at her. “A hundred bucks? For one hamburger?”

Ava snatched the check from him. “I told you I was buying.”

“You didn’t tell me you were buying me the most expensive burger in New York.”

“It’s not the most expensive. I said it was the best. There’s a restaurant on Wall Street that has one that costs more than this.”

“Seriously? You almost coulda bought a cow for what you paid for two burgers.”

“Let it go.”

But Chase couldn’t help but think… Hell, he had no freakin’ idea what Ava was thinking, bringing him here, paying that much for what oughta cost six bucks, max. With fries.

The server returned with her credit card and the receipt.

“You ready?” she asked tightly.

“Yeah.”

The outside air wasn’t as chilly as her attitude.

Your fault. Fix it.

Chase wrapped his arm around her waist instead and pulled her against his body. “I’m not an ingrate. Thank you for supper, Ava.”

“You’re welcome.”

“But just so you know? Forking out a hundred bucks and change for a burger don’t guarantee that I’m putting out for you tonight.”

She laughed, called him a redneck, and all was good between them.

But Chase knew it wouldn’t always be that easy.

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chase left the room early to work out. She was editing the video images of the first time she’d taped Ryan riding, when her cell rang. “Hey, Han. You’re up early.”

“Don’t remind me. How’s New York?”

She stopped resizing images. “How’d you know I was in New York?”

“Courtesy of the New York City newspaper
Talk of the Town
, which contacted me at five a.m. for a comment on Ava Cooper’s newest squeeze. Apparently you were spotted out and about last night.”

“Shit.”

“Yeah. See for yourself. The picture of you and cowboy dude is online.”

“Then maybe no one will see—”

“And it’s in the print version too. I was already up and headed to Booksoup for all the trade rags.”

How had that happened so quickly? Ava remembered Chase’s concern last night when she’d mentioned Jason calling for reservations for them. Chase’s distrust of Jason wasn’t surprising; Chase didn’t trust anyone. With good reason. But Ava refused to believe Jason would violate her privacy. Most likely the host or waitstaff from the restaurant had contacted the press. She squinted at the picture of her and Chase, taken through the restaurant window, right when he’d kissed her.

It’d been a beautiful, sweet moment between them. Not something to be exploited. Something else occurred to her. “Did they give his name?”

“Not yet. But it’ll only be a matter of time. And everyone in the press knows where you stay in New York. Call me later.”

Ava couldn’t suggest Hannah leak Chase’s identity to end speculation. She wasn’t sure which bothered her more. Admitting Chase was right in reminding her they were supposed to lay low? Or that she thrived on the attention and she’d lived in the spotlight so long she missed it when it wasn’t an almost daily part of her life.

No. She didn’t want to court trouble. Or speculation. She wanted a normal life where no one cared if she kissed the man she loved, in a restaurant in one of the biggest cities in the world.

That truth shook her to the core. In showing Chase her world, she understood she didn’t want to live in it all the time anymore. But she’d seen the guarded look in his eye. Would Chase even believe her?

Her phone buzzed in her hand again and the name on the caller ID shouldn’t have surprised her, but it did. Ava answered, “Hello, Petra.”

“I can’t believe I had to find out from a trashy rag like
Talk of the Town
that you’re here.”

“Our plan to have a quiet couple of days was blown the first night.”

“You’ve been off the grid, darling. People are curious when you resurface. Anyway. How are you?”

“Can’t complain. What’s new with you?”

“I’ve volunteered way too much time to my charities, but I simply don’t know how they’d survive without me, so I continue to raise money and Arthur continues to complain about it.” She laughed. “He’s been in California more than you have in the last month.”

“I bet that makes you crazy.”

“Yes. I don’t miss LA at all. Anyway, I assume you’re not jetting off today?”

“Not today.”

“Good. It just so happens I’m throwing a little cocktail party tonight at the apartment and I’d love for you to come.”

Ava nearly snorted. Since Petra lived in a fifteen-million-dollar apartment on Park Avenue, her little cocktail party probably meant a guest list of fifty, a black tie affair with a quartet from the New York Philharmonic providing entertainment.

“As a matter of fact, I won’t allow you to say no, Ava.”

“Be honest, Petra. How elaborate is this party? And what’s the dress code?”

Petra sighed. “Twenty guests. Just appetizers. New York casual. Really, it’s practically a barbecue.”

Ava laughed at the image of stylish, elegant and immaculately coiffed Petra in jeans and a gingham-checked shirt, serving fried chicken.

“Glad I amuse you. Show up any time after seven-thirty. And feel free to bring the gentleman in the hat. Ta.”

The gentleman in the hat might be optional after he got wind of their tabloid appearance.

Almost on cue, the door opened and Chase walked in.

She should be used to his jaw-dropping physique by now. The massive biceps, bulging triceps, thick forearms, bulked up chest, the delts, the quads, the glutes, the eight-pack abs. God she loved his abs. She loved to dip her tongue between the hard ridges of muscle, tracing every work-honed line. Especially after he worked out. Losing herself in the musky, salty taste of his skin.

“What? Do I have pigeon shit on my clothes or something?”

Her eyes snared his. “No. Just admiring the goods. Seeing you half naked…you are a damn beautiful man, Chase.”

“You been hitting the minibar first thing?”

“No. I don’t tell you enough how unbelievably attracted I am to you. Seeing you like that stops me in my tracks.”

“Ava.”

She marched over to him, pulling her three-inch height advantage. “You compliment me all the time. Why can’t I do the same? You think it’s insincere?”

That intense blue gaze never wavered. “No. You ain’t blowing smoke up my chaps just to get into them. I just don’t know what to say. Everything I think of sounds fucking wrong. And I sure as shit don’t want you to think I don’t appreciate it, because I do. So I’m left with saying nothin’ at all.”

As they stared at each other, uncertainty morphed into heat.

Ava bent down and brushed her lips over his ear, waiting for his shiver, because he always shivered—and he didn’t disappoint. She nipped his rigid jaw, loving how his stubble felt on her lips. “I want to suck you off. Right now.” She lowered to her knees and hooked her fingers in the waistband of his stretchy shorts, then yanked them down. She looked up at him and said, “Shirt. Off.”

One tug and it was gone.

She reached between his legs and rolled his balls over her fingers as she suckled the cock head until he was fully erect.

Chase emitted a sound that Ava understood as
more
.

And she didn’t tease and tempt. She wanted to drive him to that point of pleasure so hard and fast he didn’t know what hit him. She used her hand. Her tongue. The deep suctioning power of her mouth. She loved she could render him as powerless to her touch as he rendered her.

Chase didn’t touch her roughly until he muttered, “Fuck,” and his shaft tightened. Then his hands gripped her neck, his thumbs pressing to keep her jaw fully open as his hips pumped into her face. Warm spurts hit the back of her throat and flowed over her tongue as she swallowed.

His legs trembled and his harsh breathing sliced the air. He stumbled back and his bare ass landed on the bed. The covers made a
whoosh
as his upper body fell back and he uttered another, “Christ Almighty.”

Smiling, Ava untied his shoes and slipped them off. The fact Mr. My-Ticklish-Feet-Are-Off-Limits didn’t stir when she removed his socks was an excellent indication of how thoroughly she’d rocked his world.

The bedroom phone rang and she leapt up to get it. “Hello? Oh. Damn. I lost track of time. No, don’t let him leave. Tell him I’ll be down in ten minutes. Or if he prefers, he can park back by the service entrance so he doesn’t have to keep circling the block. Great. Thank you.”

She saved her work and shut down her laptop. She twisted her hair and attached a hairclip. Her clothing choices were dismal, but her shopping excursion would fix that. She threw jeans, a white T-shirt and ballet flats into her bag.

Chase rested on his elbows when she returned to the bedroom to say goodbye.

“This is short notice, but my friend Petra called and she’s having a cocktail party tonight. I told her we’d go. Which works out because I’d already made hair and makeup appointments at my favorite salon.”

“Who’s Petra?”

“An actress I worked with when I started out in LA. Petra aimed her goals much higher than acting and snagged a New York financier who dabbled in the movie production biz as her husband. Arthur is thirty years older, and she’s very New York high society now, but for some reason she’s always kept in touch with me.” Ava slung her bag over her shoulder. “Think about coming to the party with me, okay?”

“Fine. But where you goin’ now?”

“First to a yoga class near my salon. Then to the salon. Then shopping.” She pointed at him. “Don’t give me that lost puppy look, McKay. I believe you said
no fuckin’ way
when I mentioned shopping yesterday.”

He scowled. “I meant it. Any idea when you’ll be back?”

“I’ll text you.” She made it to the door when she found her back pressed against the wall and Chase’s mouth insistent on hers.

After he’d obliterated every thought from her mind, he released her. “Have fun today, Hollywood, because now I know how much you really love all that time-consuming girly shit.”

It wasn’t until she reached the car that she realized she’d forgotten to tell him about the press situation.

Chase wasn’t uncomfortable being by himself in New York City. He’d been there a half-dozen times, usually with a group, but any place he needed to get to was a taxi ride away.

He showered and dressed, walking away from the hotel into the shops in the East Village until he found food that appealed. Two slices of pizza would hold him for a while. The sun beat down, heating the pavement, reminding him the city smelled like ass. The tiny storefronts fascinated him. Everyone was in a hurry, except for the bums. Another thing he noticed? He wasn’t the shortest man around. Here, his height was average. Maybe even above average.

Much as he hated to admit it, he needed to find something suitable to wear tonight. His clothes were fine for rodeo and travel, but not decent enough for a penthouse cocktail party in New York City.

Once again he was reminded of the differences between them. He didn’t blame her for wanting to return to the lifestyle she’d been born into.

None of the shops looked promising for his preferred type of clothing. And he refused to dress in uncomfortable or trendy clothes to impress people he didn’t know. Leaning against a shady section of the brick building, he punched up a Google search and skimmed the results. The closest store was twenty-seven blocks away, according to Google Maps. He hailed a cab.

The familiar scent of leather and denim greeted Chase as he stepped into Western Spirit. The store itself relied more on kitschy country chic than plain country. Racks of high-end leather coats filled the aisle. Along the wall were vintage boots enclosed in glass cases. Vintage, another word for discarded and out of fashion. He peered at a beat-up pair of Tony Lamas, nothing fancy except the stitching on the snip toe, and the asking price was seven hundred bucks. A new pair didn’t cost that much. Shaking his head, he crossed over to the men’s clothing section.

He expected to be left to his own devices. His experience with sales staff in New York hadn’t ever been good. So he was surprised when the salesgirl immediately wandered over.

“You have an idea of what you’re looking for that I can help you find?”

Chase glanced up from the rack of long-sleeved western shirts and smiled. The Italian girl, who looked to be late teens, gasped, “Omigod. You’re Chase McKay!”

Holy crap. He wasn’t expecting that. “Good eye…?”

“Angelina. I can’t believe bull rider Chase McKay is in our store. I saw you ride at Madison Square Garden for the last two years. That was the most exciting part of the event when you rode Tick Tock for ninety points. My girlfriend Sarah and I still talk about it.”