Claiming Chase: (A Second Chance Stepbrother Romance) (4 page)

What the fuck happened? Why did she just take off like that? No woman has
ever
done that to me before. I saw the look in her eye, felt the way her body responded to mine — she was hot for me, she wanted it just as much as I did. So what made her change her mind? Just who was she, and more importantly, how will I ever find her again?

How could I have been such an arrogant prick?

I didn’t even ask her name.

I’ve asked my secretary, Alice, to cancel all my meetings today. I’ve spent the whole morning scouring the internet, studying photos of the fundraiser for some clue. But she’s not there. There are over fifty photos of the event on NYGoss.com, picture after picture of vapid socialites and business rivals pretending to be best friends. And she’s not there. Not even from the back — and trust me, I’d recognize that view.

I’m starting to go out of my mind. Did I dream the whole thing?

Alice is obviously worried about me. She’s not used to seeing me spend the morning on gossip websites. She’s told me to go home and get some rest, but there’s no way I can do that. How could I rest in that room? The room where she left me?

Get a grip, Chase, I tell myself. What’s got into you? She’s just a girl. There are thousands of them in this city, all just as beautiful as her.

I could snap my fingers and have a girl in here in seconds, just begging to take her clothes off for me.

I’m Chase Parker.

I can have whatever I want.

And what I want is
her
… Damn it.

I pick up the nearest thing to hand. And before I know what I’ve done, I’ve hurled my coffee cup across the room, where it smashes against the wall.

“Mr Parker? Is everything alright?” Alice asks, running into the room, summoned by the commotion.

“Yes, Alice, it’s fine. Go back to your desk. I think I might need to take the rest of the day off, after all.”

Alice backs out of my office with a concerned look on her face, closing the door behind her.

This just isn’t like me. I’m losing control. It’s not good for a guy in my position. One bad move, one risky investment, and I could lose everything.

I shouldn’t be here.

But I can’t go home.

There’s only one thing that works for me at a time like this. I grab my jacket and the keys to my bike, just as the door opens again.

“Alice,” I say, aggravated. “I thought I told you, I’m
fine
.”

“No, Mr Parker,” she says, holding out a slip of paper. “This arrived for you just now. She said it was urgent.”

She?

“Thank you, Alice, that will be all,” I say, taking the paper from her, and watching, waiting for her to shut the door, once more leaving me alone, before I look at it.

I’m sorry I ran away last night
.
It wasn’t how I thought things would go between us. But please meet me tomorrow at the Strand Bookstore at 2pm and I will explain everything, I promise.

This note just arrived
, I think.

She was here, minutes ago. She could still be in the building right now. All it would take would be for me to run down to the elevators and I might be able to find her.

But I don’t.

Something stops me.

I can’t talk to her like this. My mind is all over the place. I feel out of control and I might do something I regret. Now I know that she was real — that she wasn’t just a dream. And better than that, I know where and when to find her.

I don’t need to make a fool of myself and run after her right now.

What I need is to clear my head and get out on the road.

So I pick up the keys to my bike and head for the door.

It’s almost two o’ clock. I’m right at the back of the Strand bookstore, and I’m waiting for Chase. He’s not going to take me by surprise this time. I’m going to make sure I see him first. And when I do, I’m gonna do this right.

For a start, there’s going to be no alcohol. I don’t know what I was thinking, drinking like that. I was only ever supposed to have one glass, to steady my nerves. But when he thrust that champagne flute into my hand, all my sensible planning went out of the window.

I’m going tell him straight. I’m going to tell him my name. And if he can’t remember the past? Well, then I’ll just have to jog his memory a little.

As I wait, I stroll between the aisles, keeping an eye on the entrance,  waiting for him to walk in. And not for the first time, my mind returns to the question that’s been bugging me all weekend long:
does he really not recognize me?

Am I really so different now? I mean, sure, my figure has filled out a little. I’ve grown a few inches taller, and cut a few inches off my hair. I certainly don’t wear it in those childish braids any more. I wear a little bit of makeup, not much, and I wouldn’t be seen dead in those dorky clothes – I take pride in my appearance now. But even so, am I not still
me
?

My mind wanders, and as I trail my fingers across the spines, I settle upon a volume that takes my fancy. A beautiful edition of Wharton’s
The Age of Innocence.
My concentration gone, I slip the book from the shelf and begin leafing through the pages.

“Seen something you like?”

The voice makes me jump.

I turn around and he’s there. Once again, I’m taken aback by those sapphire blue eyes. This time he’s dressed casually, in a shirt and jeans. And he looks a little more like the Chase I remember, the Chase I knew …

God damn it
, I think.
I let my mind drift for two seconds and he manages to sneak up on me.

“I love this novel,” I manage to say, stumbling over my words.

“I don’t get much of a chance to read,” he replies. “Think you could recommend me a good book?”

“Sure,” I say. “We’re in the right place. What sort of things do you like?”

“Adventure? Excitement?” he offers. “Anything with a good story …”

“Challenge accepted,” I say with a smile, as I begin to scan the shelves and tables once more, this time with purpose. “Let me think,” I say, as I wander through the aisles, Chase following closely behind.

What book would suit him?

Once more we seem to be playing a game.

I scan the titles:

Vile Bodies?
Too physical …

Pride and Prejudice?
Too obvious … 

Lolita?
Don’t even go there …

And then I stop when I see it. The perfect book.

“Here you go,” I say, handing it to him with a wry smile.

“
Heart of Darkness
?” he says. “Thank you … I think.”

“No, no,” I say. “It’s got everything. Excitement, adventure, madness. You’ll love it.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” he says.

We head over to the registers, and he pays for the book. With a platinum AmEx card. I can’t help but notice it.

“Meeting here was a great suggestion,” he says. “If I’m honest, I’ve not set foot in a bookstore in years. But how about we go somewhere else. Don’t you have some explaining to do? Let me buy you a drink.”

“How about we go for a walk instead,” I say.

I mean it this time. I’m determined to stay in control of this situation.

“A walk,” he says, like nobody’s ever suggested that to him before. “How quaint.”

I lead the way, taking us in the direction of Washington Square Park.

And as we walk, I know I should probably start explaining myself. But I need to wait until we’re in the calm of the park, until we’re sitting down. So instead, I keep the conversation neutral, and talk to him about Joseph Conrad.

“
Heart of Darkness
is a total classic,” I say. “It’s been an influence on everyone, from D.H. Lawrence to Philip Roth. I’m not going to pretend it’s an easy read though.”

“Maybe I’m tired of things being easy,” he says, quick as a flash.

It’s hard to keep the conversation neutral with him. There’s no denying the tension between us right now. It’s positively crackling in the air. I feel like it must be totally obvious to everyone that walks past us.

“From what I can tell,” I reply, “it’s not like you’ve taken an easy path in life. I mean, your job must be really hard, right?”

“Maybe it’s not my job that I’m talking about,” he says.

God damn it, Chase
, I think.
Give a girl a break.

Soon enough, we’ve reached the park.

I find a quiet bench and we take a seat.

“Go on then,” he says, the very moment we’ve sat down. “Explain.”

I take a deep breath.

“Okay …” I begin. “The party. The fundraiser. I went there for you. I went there to meet you.”

I watch the confusion begin to register on his face. He remains silent and I’ve got no choice but to carry on talking.

“There were things I wanted to tell you,” I say. “Things from a long time ago. But then everything got out of hand and I didn’t get a chance. I didn’t expect things to be like they were between us …”

“What do you mean?” he says, his eyes searching mine.

He’s going to make me say it, isn’t he?

“The spark. The electricity. The tension.”

He pushes closer to me.

“I knew it,” he says. “I knew you felt it too.”

And I feel it
again
, right here, right now. I feel it building within me, threatening to explode once more.

“It scares me,” I say. “It’s like I have no control when I’m with you.”

“I know exactly what you mean,” he says.

And all of a sudden, his mouth is pressing against mine, and he’s kissing me, and I’m kissing him back, and I can feel the sparks flying around us. It’s like the whole world melts away — just him and me. And now he’s putting his arms around my waist, pulling me closer to him, closer, closer, and it’s like I want to just fuck him right here on this bench …

“No,” I gasp, pulling away. “Not like this.”

“What?” he says. “What’s wrong?”

“You haven’t even asked me my name,” I cry out. 

“What
is
your name?” he practically shouts.

“Charity Lindley. My name is Charity Lindley.”

“Charity Lindley. My name is Charity Lindley.”

The words pierce my heart like a knife.

“You can’t be,” I stammer.

But as I look at her, I know she’s telling the truth. The girl has become a woman, but it’s Charity Lindley alright. The girl I knew for one short summer. The one girl I could never have. She’s still got that same slim, girlish figure, except now with added curves. I remember her lounging on the porch in a baggy old t-shirt and denim cutoffs, hair hastily thrown up in a scruffy ponytail. But that face — that hasn’t changed. The girl-next-door, so ordinary to so many people, but so beautiful to me.

Of course it’s her. I guess I knew it all along, deep down.

“I
am
Charity Lindley,” she spits angrily. “But who’s Chase
Parker
? What happened to Chase Lowe?”

“Chase Lowe was in with the wrong crowd,” I say quietly. “Chase Lowe would be in prison by now. Or dead in a ditch. I had to cut him loose to survive. I had to succeed, so I had to become someone else. I chose Chase Parker.”

“Why?” she says.

“No reason,” I say. “I just picked the first name that came into my head. Something anonymous. Something that had nothing to do with my past. But Jesus,
Charity. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Jesus, Chase,” she snaps back, tears now brimming in her eyes. “Why didn’t you
recognize
me?”

I think back — to that moment I first saw her at the fundraiser. So strange and yet … so familiar. On some level, I always knew who she was. But how can I explain to her the ways I’ve had to forget her to survive?

“You have to understand, Charity,” I sigh. “That person I was? I buried him. I doubt I’d recognize
myself
from back then. So much has changed. But it’s better this way. I’m not the person you think I am. Not anymore.”

She’s silent now, staring at the floor, her hands folded between her knees, the tears spilling down her cheeks.

I’m doing it again. Hurting her. The one thing I promised myself I’d never do.

“What do you want from me, Charity?” I say quietly.

“I don’t know anymore,” she replies. “I guess I just wanted to understand.”

I could soothe her pain. I could just tell her my story, and give her what she obviously desires so much. But do I even
know
that story any more? The truth is, I’ve buried that all so deep that there are no details, just flashes, images, a forbidden desire, a night flight … There is no understanding.

And if I try to explain, if I stay here any longer, I could end up hurting her even more. And I’m not going to do that.

“I’m sorry, Charity,” I say. “I can’t give you what you need.”

And then I do it again.

I stand up and walk away.

I leave her there, alone, crying and confused.