Protecting His Assets (3 page)

Though that didn’t sound altogether bad, assuming they could lose their clothes…

“What kind of deal?” she asked, trying to keep her teeth from chattering.

“You manage to keep me from picking you up and hauling you over my shoulder again and I’ll acknowledge your superior self-defense skills. Any tactic’s fair game.”

Summer tilted her head and blew away the hair that tumbled over her eyes. “
Any
tactic?” She narrowed her gaze below his waist. “Even low blows?”

He only smirked at her. Clearly, he didn’t consider her any kind of threat. “Anything.”

“What do I get if I win, besides your praise?”

“I’ll back off on demanding you get private security, at least as long as you’re appearing in clubs like this. You want to go to some little honky-tonk up north, be my guest. In the city? I want you protected.” He scowled. “Even if I have to risk my baby to do it.”

Her stomach clenched. “You have a baby?”

“My truck.”

She nearly smiled before a wave of shivers rolled over her already frosty skin. This time they burrowed beneath, right to her bones. “And if I can’t take you down?”

“Who said anything about taking me down? You only need to keep your own feet on the ground. Simple enough.” He flicked her frozen nose like she was a cute twelve-year-old and made her growl. “If you can’t, then you’ve bought yourself a bodyguard at your shows.”

“Bought?” Summer’s voice wobbled. “I don’t have a budget for that.”

All right, so that was a lie, but she wasn’t about to have some big, hulking guy preventing her from getting close to her fans. Most of them were normal, even nice. In the business she was in, she needed to be able to make connections. Having a wall of muscle between her and the people who were buying her tickets was
not
a recipe for success.

“We’ll negotiate the fee later.” He made a come-and-get-me gesture. “Now get ready. I’m going to try to pick you up, and you’re going to stop me, by any means possible. Got it?”

As a devious plan formed in her mind, she grinned. “Sure. Say when.”

Chase lunged, causing her to squeal as his powerful hands locked around her ribcage. She beat on his shoulders, losing precious moments, then remembered her plan. She wriggled in his hold, bearing down as she felt her feet leave the ground, pushing with all her weight while she grabbed a hank of his hair with one hand and ripped down her top with the other.

Like a stone sinking to the bottom of the river, he dropped her heavily back onto her feet. He stared for a long moment, and she belatedly realized she hadn’t only shown him her lacy demi-cup bra, but had also torn her favorite peasant blouse in two.

“You flashed me?” His voice was low, gritty. “You fucking
flashed
me?”

She fought to hold her blouse together, squealing again when he wrapped a hand around her waist and hauled her right out of her shoes. At that moment, the door burst open to the sounds of male shouts, and they both glanced toward the source of the commotion.

A cop yelled for Chase to let her go. Chase started to explain the situation while Summer gaped, wide-eyed, then gasped as the cop’s laser gaze landed on her shredded top.

“This isn’t what it looks like—” she began.

She was too late, obviously, since the cop had already strode forward and snapped cuffs on Chase’s wrists. Oh God, this wasn’t good.

“Oh really?” The sandy-haired cop nodded at the shirt she gripped in both hands. “I heard an argument, then a woman’s scream, and came out here to find you being manhandled by this thug. And your blouse is ripped. Care to explain that?”

“Yes, do explain that, Summer,” Chase rasped.

It had seemed like such a smart move at the time. She’d even seen a version of it on that old sitcom
Friends
. Phoebe flashed the guys during a football game and the girls won. Cue laugh track.

No cops, no cuffs, no glowering ball players. Why couldn’t she ever get anything right?

When she hesitated a second too long, the officer shook his head and jerked his chin in the direction of the club. “We’ll discuss it down at the station. Go on.”

“Oh no, honestly, he wasn’t hurting me. He’s one of my oldest friends. He actually saved me in there, from that witch who grabbed my hair.” Summer knew she was babbling and couldn’t seem to stop. “We were only playing around, I swear.”

“I’ve already heard about ten variations of this story from other patrons. Seems like the whole bunch of you are wired tonight.” The officer nodded at the club again. “It’ll all be sorted out at the station. Now let’s go.”

“But I’m the talent. I already ran off stage. If I just leave I won’t get another gig here, ever.”

“You’re worried about your ‘gig’ when I’m cuffed?” Chase questioned, clenching his jaw. “I’m probably fucking going to jail for assault and you’re worried you won’t get to warble for peanuts?”

“
What
? Oh, pal, you’ve officially pissed me off.” Summer stepped forward and poked Chase in the chest, only to earn a sharp noise from the cop.

“Enough, lady. We’re going downtown. Save the editorializing for when we get there.”

“Don’t you mean across town?” Chase rolled his eyes before the cop pushed him toward the doors, then looked over his shoulder at Summer, mouthing two unmistakable words.
“You lost.”

“Look, this is ridiculous,” she called to the cop. “We’re fine. No problems here. He’s actually an employee of this club, if you’d do your due diligence and stop harassing innocent people—”

“Summer, shut it,” Chase warned.

The cop gave her a hard stare. “Listen, lady. Either you come with us of your own volition, or I’ll come over there and get you. I guarantee you don’t want that.”

“I’m just saying, maybe if you boys in blue had shown up a little sooner, you could’ve gotten the real troublemakers, not Chase and me.” She gritted her teeth and planted her feet. Chase might think she was crossing the line, but if he only knew what she really wanted to say, he’d applaud her restraint. “We’re not exactly the criminal element, ya know?”

“You’re on my last nerve, ma’am.”
Ma’am
?
Freaking ma’am
? She’d gone from a playground attendee to a matron in under five minutes. “Start walking on your own steam or you’ll take a ride down to the station in cuffs like your friend here.”

The back door opened and Chris, one of the owners of the club, stepped out. Catching sight of Chase’s cuffs, he quickly started talking to the officer, which lowered the heat on her long enough to get her temper under control. Almost.

She did not have a good history with the police. Still, she didn’t need to be locked up or to screw up things worse for Chase. What she needed to do was shut up and go down to the station to sort everything out.

The cop pulled open the door of the club and jerked his thumb at her. Message received. Time to move.

Summer pursed her mouth and clasped the front of her shirt to keep it from flapping in the breeze. A trip to her locker for her jacket was a necessity now. She inhaled the icy air and strode forward, head held high.

It looked like she’d gotten herself a bodyguard.

And maybe an arrest record, depending how the rest of the night went.

Chapter Two

In the scheme of things, facing down a long, plush couch at two a.m. was not the worst thing she’d encountered that night. A fight breaking out in the middle of her concert? Bad. Being carried out like a screaming baby from said concert by a man you’d tongue-fucked—she might as well call a spade a spade—a few months ago? Equally crappy. Riding down to the police station to explain to the cops that you were “roughhousing” with the guy who’d somehow re-inserted his size thirteen boot in your life without any warning? Absolute suckitude.

But it was the sofa that broke her.

“I am not sleeping here,” Summer announced, clasping her arms over her fully zipped jacket.

“Let me get you some sheets.” Chase tossed his car keys onto the coffee table and walked down the dark hallway that led away from his spacious living room before she could complain some more.

Apparently he’d decided to break his vow of silence.

He’d been doing his best impression of a mute ever since he’d herded her into his super macho SUV outside the club and insisted she was staying at his place tonight. Actually, insisted was a nice way of putting it. Commanded was more accurate.

She stared at his keys in the weak glow from the light he’d flipped on by the door, wondering if she’d be able to get down to his truck before he could catch up.

He’s a professional athlete, dumbass. That means he’d catch you before you disarmed that pricey alarm system by the front door.

Since the flight plan had been mentally vetoed by her rarely heard common sense, she followed him down the hallway, noting the doors that branched off either side. Two appeared to be bedrooms. Guest bedrooms even, since she was almost positive he lived alone.

And he was sticking her on the damn couch? What next? Would breakfast be stale crackers and warm water?

“Why can’t I sleep in a real bedroom?” she demanded, coming to a stop in the doorway to Chase’s master bedroom. The space held one dominating focal point—the lake-sized, black-sheeted bed. No comforter, no pillows. Just a giant mattress made with silky sheets and held high off the floor on a cherry pedestal bedframe that required steps to mount.

Mount
. She swallowed over the dryness in her throat. Wrong word for her current state of mind.

Silently, he walked over to the dresser and withdrew a set of crisp navy-and-white striped sheets, then gathered a plastic-wrapped pillow from a stack of them atop the chest at the foot of the bed. What was he stockpiling them for if he didn’t even use them on his own bed?

When he approached her without even giving a token answer to her question, she propped her hands on her hips and stared him down. “I asked you a question, Dixon. Why are you exiling me in the living room when you have perfectly good guest rooms?”

He cocked a brow. “That couch is made out of leather. It’s a dream to sleep on. Before I bought my bed, I slept on it like a baby for a week.”

“Good to know. The question stands. Typical protocol for guests is to allow them to sleep in a bed, with a comforter and pillows.” She shivered and gripped her shoulders. “Especially when it’s like ten degrees in this icebox.”

“Twenty,” he replied with a twist of his lips that disappeared when he pushed past her.

“I’m serious, Chase. I want a real bed,” she muttered, gazing hard at his retreating back.

He didn’t give two craps what she wanted. That had been clear when he’d made his proclamation about it being too late to drive upstate to Yardley, their hometown—well,
her
home, since obviously Chase had become a city dweller. Kyle, her ride, had left hours ago—he wouldn’t risk being out late and missing church—and Chase wasn’t in the mood to do the honors himself.

Not that she blamed him. He’d been at the cop shop for over two hours, and he’d been questioned and requestioned until he’d been reduced to one-word answers. Eventually she’d given in and turned on the charm at stun level to get them out of there, and the officer had finally relented. He’d snagged a few other supposed perps from the club anyway, so he wouldn’t end the night empty-handed.

Maybe she should stop fighting with Chase and let him go to bed. She’d gotten him in trouble at his job and almost arrested in one night, so she probably deserved the sofa.

And it
had
looked buttery soft.

Sighing, she trudged back into the living room and gasped aloud at the sight of Chase carefully making up her couch. Somewhere he’d unearthed a white comforter with big geometric circles on it and even from a few feet away, she could smell the comforting scent of detergent. Something lemony and airy that made her want to purr.

Oh jeez, a guy good at laundry was dangerous. If he whipped out dryer sheets, she’d be toast.

“It’s still warm,” he said gruffly, jerking a hand at the comforter. She’d never expected to find a happy homemaker in the guise of a sex god with hands big enough to turn cars into scrap metal. “I washed and dried it earlier to throw on one of the guest beds and I never got it out before I went to the club. So it’s all yours.”

After one more fluff of her brand new pillow, he turned to leave.

“Thank you. I appreciate it.” And she so would, the minute he left. Well, after she took a blisteringly hot shower first. “Chase, wait.”

He stopped on the threshold, not moving. Not facing her either.

“Can I use your shower?”

“Sure.” The word sounded strangled. “The bathroom’s at the end of the hall, opposite the master bedroom. Fresh towels are in the cabinet above the toilet.”

Yeah, she could feel her bikini panties already untying themselves at her hips. In her experience, most single males were stinky and lazy, practically incapable of throwing dirty things in a machine made for that purpose. A man this tidy and capable might as well put a “take me now” sign on his very impressive groin.

The groin that, yes, she might’ve gotten a quickie handful of on the night they’d kissed. Until she’d released him for the one thing that mattered even more than getting a look at his probably amazing package.