Texas! Chase #2 (15 page)

That hadn't happened to him since Tanya.

He pressed his forehead against the cold pane of window glass and squeezed his eyes shut, trying not to remember how Marcie had looked wearing nothing except the golden, wavering glow of candlelight.

Porcelain and fire.

Inside his jeans he grew stiff, thinking of her impudent nipples. He had wanted to test them against the tip of his tongue, suck them into his mouth, tug…

He was so lost in the fantasy, he hadn't seen Lucky's Mustang as it rounded the bend in the road and pulled to a halt outside. Chase jumped when his brother bounded in, shedding his jacket before he was fully inside.

Lucky stared at him stupidly. "What are you doing here?"

"I work here."

"Don't play dumb. What are you doing here today? Where's your bride?"

"Probably at her office by now."

"Kind of a short honeymoon, wasn't it?"

Chase frowned at him in a way that he hoped would quell his curiosity. Lucky, however, had never been daunted by his brother's intimidating frowns. "How'd it go?"

"What?"

"Have you gone dense?" Lucky cried impatiently, resting his hands on his hips. "Last night. How was it?"

"Do you expect a blow-by-blow account?"

Lucky's face broke into a wide grin. "Is that particular choice of words significant?"

"None of your damn business."

Lucky barked a laugh, drawing his own conclusions.

The check on the desk caught his eye. He picked it up, read the amount, whistled.

"Well, you must have done something the lady liked. And done it real good."

"That's not funny." Chase snatched the check from his brother's hand. "Keep your filthy mind off my wife and out of my personal business."

Still chuckling, Lucky went to the hot plate and poured himself a cup of the coffee Chase had brewed.

"Careful, big brother. I'm beginning to think all those rationalizations you piled up for marrying Marcie were just so much crap."

"Go to hell." Chase rounded the desk and sat down. "If you're done with being cute and cocky, read that."

He had previously circled an article in the business section of the morning newspaper.

When Lucky had finished reading it, Chase asked, "What do you think?"

"I don't know," Lucky said, his brows steepling. "They're from out of state. They don't know us."

"They don't know any locals. That's why they're soliciting bids for drilling equipment and know-how."

"It says they're operating on a shoestring budget."

"A shoestring is better than nothing. Thanks to Marcie's, uh, loan, we can come in with a low bid. We might not clear much, but it would be something."

For the first time in two years, Chase felt a rising excitement about his work. There was a glimmer of optimism on the horizon. A contract, any contract, would do his tottering ego a world of good.

Apparently his excitement was contagious.

Lucky grinned. "Hell, why not? We've got nothing better to do. Let's go for it."

IO

Eager to discuss the business prospect with Marcie as soon as he got home, Chase rushed through the front door at five to five, loudly calling out her name.

"Oh, there you are," he said when he spotted her standing near the hall table. He hooked his jacket on the coat tree.

"Guess what? Today I was reading about these—" Getting his first good look at her face, he drew up short. "What's the matter?"

"Nothing." Looking stricken, she turned away abruptly. "You sound enthusiastic about something. Come into the kitchen and tell me about it."

At first he was mystified by her strange behavior. Then he noticed the telephone on the table. The receiver was off the hook. "Did you get another call?" She ignored his question, so, as he repeated it, he caught her by the upper arm and pulled her around to face him. "Did he call again?" Swallowing visibly, she nodded yes. "What did he say?"

Lowering her eyes to the open collar of his shirt, she shrugged. "More of the same. Nasty propositions.

Lewd scenarios."

"Why didn't you just hang up?"

"Because I thought if I listened, I might be able to place his voice among the men I know."

"Did you?"

"No."

"That's not all, is it?" He tipped his head down until he could read her eyes. "Come on, Marcie. What else?"

"He… he said that my being married won't make any difference. He plans to keep calling."

"You told him that you got married?" he asked incredulously.

"Of course not. He already knew."

"Christ." Chase realized now why this particular call had upset her so much. "That means the guy is keeping mighty close tabs on you. He knows what you do and when."

"It doesn't mean anything of the sort. It only means he reads the newspaper. Our wedding announcement was in this morning's issue."

She gave him a faltering smile. "Now,

let's not let him spoil the rest of our evening.

I'll fix you a drink and you can tell me your news."

He followed her into the kitchen. "I'm going to call Pat and have him put a tap on our line."

"I'd rather you wouldn't, Chase."

"Why?"

"Because I don't want all our telephone conversations to be overheard. Clients often talk to me about their personal business and financial affairs. That's privileged information intended for my ears only.

Sooner or later, the caller is bound to get discouraged and stop calling."

"In the meantime he scares you spitless every time he calls."

"I'm not scared. Just annoyed."

"Marcie, I saw your face. I know the difference between fright and annoyance. You were scared."

Acting on instinct, he pulled her into his arms. Once again he was impressed by how fragile she felt within his embrace. He rested his chin on the top of her head while his arms slid around her waist and linked at the small of her back.

"I hate to think of some sicko creep jacking off while he's whispering dirty words to you."

A shudder rippled through her. She turned her head so that her cheek was lying against his chest. Raising her hands, she lightly rested them on either side of his waist. "I appreciate your concern."

They stayed that way for several moments.

Holding her began to feel so good that Chase warred with himself over whether or not to sweep her into his arms and carry her up to bed.

She needed comforting. Wasn't that the least a husband could do for his wife, comfort her when she needed to feel safe and protected?

The only thing that stopped him was the niggling suspicion that providing comfort might not be his only motivation for wanting to take her to bed. He seriously doubted that once they were lying down they would stay dressed for long or that his caresses would remain entirely noble.

Thankfully Marcie relieved him of having to make the choice. She eased away from him, but left her hands at his waist. She tentatively flexed them, then relaxed them, repositioned them, flexed again.

"Your bandage is gone."

"I went to the doctor today. He stripped off the tape, examined me, and pronounced me well."

"Did it hurt?"

"It didn't feel good. But it didn't hurt as bad as it would have if they hadn't shaved me before they wrapped me."

She winced. "Ouch! I can imagine."

"Oh, yeah?" he asked teasingly. "I didn't notice any chest hair on you last night."

At the inadvertent reminder Chase lowered his gaze to her breasts. She was wearing a thick sweater, but his memory penetrated her clothing like X-ray vision.

In vivid color he envisioned the milky mounds of her breasts and their delicate pink centers, that shallow groove that bisected her rib cage into perfect halves, the smooth slope of her belly, and that beguiling, downy delta between her thighs.

He turned his groan into a loud, unnatural-sounding cough. Marcie moved to the bar and mixed them each a drink. Handing him a whiskey and water, she said, "You seemed excited when you came in. Sit down and tell me what's up."

He doubted she really wanted to know. Or maybe she already did. They had been standing very close.

How could she not have felt his arousal pressing against her middle?

He observed her as she went about preparing dinner. Her cheeks looked abnormally rosy, but that might have been caused by the simmering pans on the cooktop. Steam was rising from one of them, causing the tendrils of hair on either side of her face to curl.

Willfully tamping down his misplaced desire,

Chase told her about the prospect they had for a drilling contract. "Lucky and I spent all day working up a proposal. We submitted what we think is a rock-bottom bid. All we can do now is wait."

"I'll keep my fingers crossed." She drained the boiling pasta in a colander in the sink.

"Sell any houses today?"

"They don't sell just like that, you know." she said over her shoulder.

"Show any?"

"Unfortunately, yes."

"Unfortunately?"

"I've been working with this couple for months. The Harrisons. They still haven't made a decision. About the only thing they agree on is their penchant to argue. I doubt I'll ever get them to sign a contract on a house. Oh, and I talked with Sage. She called to say good-bye before she left for Austin."

"Good riddance."

"Chase! She adores her big brothers."

"She's a pain in the backside."

Her expression told him that she didn't take his invective seriously. "After Sage said goodbye, Laurie got on the phone. She invited us out to lunch Sunday. I accepted."

"Fine."

"She also said she would love for us to join her at church." She had her back turned, ladling an aromatic sauce over the platter of pasta. When he didn't immediately respond, she swiveled her head around.

"Chase?"

"I heard you," he said tersely. "I just don't like the idea of church. I haven't been inside one since Tan…

since the funeral."

Marcie's posture improved to the point of rigidity. For a moment she was still. Then she set down the ladle, turned, and spoke to him directly.

"It's up to you how you resolve your anger with God, Chase. But I must say this. Your first wife's name was Tanya. She is a fact of our lives. We can't continue to dance around her name. I'm not going to feel sick and grow ghastly pale every time it's spoken out loud."

"But I might."

Marcie recoiled as though he had struck her. She did, in fact, grow ghastly pale. Even her lips lost their color. She spun around and braced herself against the countertop as though she might slide to the floor, unable to support herself.

Instantly regretting what he'd said, Chase left his seat and moved up behind her. "I'm sorry, Marcie," he said hoarsely.

He raised his hands and considered laying them on her shoulders, but he couldn't bring himself to. He thought of planting a conciliatory kiss on the nape of her neck where several curling strands of hair had escaped her ponytail. But he didn't dare do that either.

Lamely he said, "I shouldn't have said that."

She turned to face him. He expected her to be tearful. Instead, her eyes were bright with indignation. "I don't like having to walk on eggshells inside my own house. I don't like having to weigh everything I say before I say it, wondering how you're going to take it."

Her anger sparked his own temper. "You know how I feel about Tanya."

"Indeed, how could I not?"

"Okay, then, you know that the wound is still raw."

"Yes," she said, raising her chin a notch.

"You made all that perfectly clear before we got married. If not then, certainly last night left no doubt in my mind."

She tried to step around him, but he blocked her path. "Last night? What about last night?"

"Nothing. Forget it. If you'll step aside, I'll get dinner on the table."

"Screw dinner!" He caught her beneath the chin with his fingers and forced her head up.

Their eyes clashed. "What was wrong with last night?"

She lifted her chin off the perch of his fingers and retorted haughtily, "Nothing from your perspective. It was less than thrilling for me, however."

He fell back a step, his jaw going slack.

"Huh? Oh, I get it. I hurt your feelings, so you retaliate by castrating me, is that it?"

She rolled her eyes. "Spare me the macho tripe. Believe whatever you want to." She stepped around him then, but instead of setting dinner on the table, she headed for the stairs. "Since you decided to

'screw dinner,'

I'm going up to my room. When you want me, you know where to find me. Which shouldn't be too difficult for you," she added sweetly.

"You managed to find me in the dark last night."

"Listen," he shouted up at her, "I didn't want to do it at all. I was only doing you a favor."

She halted abruptly, turned around, and glared down at him. One of her arched brows rose a fraction.

"Well, Mr. Tyler, for your information, that kind of favor I can do without."

"Terrific. I won't have to go to the effort again. Unless, of course, you want to claim your rights as a wife."

"And get another slam-bamthank-you-ma'am?"

She laughed scoffingly. "I certainly won't be missing much, will I?"

His head felt so hot with rage, he thought steam was probably escaping his ears. He wanted to close the distance between them, strip her naked, crush her beneath him, and show her exactly what she was going to be missing.

But damned if he was going to make the first move, not after her scathing review of his lovemaking. Hell would freeze over first.

"Fine," he snarled. "We'll keep this a marriage in name only."

"Fine." She turned on her heel and marched up the stairs. After entering her bedroom, she slammed the door closed behind her.

Five hours later she knocked on Chase's bedroom door. He was lying in bed, but the lights were still on and he was awake. The sheets were tangled around his restless legs. His head was propped up on pillows. He was staring at the ceiling and gnashing his teeth.

At her unexpected knock his heart stopped for several seconds. His eyes eagerly swung toward the door. But his tone was hardly cordial when he growled, "What?"