Chapter 23

"Busy? You can control that aspect of your life, you know," he said blankly. Control? Chase had had none of that before. One sweet smile from this woman, and he was a goner. However, he did change. Now he knew what control was. He controlled every aspect of his life, including his love life, but suddenly all those beautiful, vapid, utterly controllable women who had cluttered his life seemed like safe, dreary options.

Insane. He had never mixed business with pleasure. Never. This woman was off limits.

But she had kick-started his libido, and he felt the thrust of a powerful erection pressing against the zipper of his trousers, bulging and uncomfortable.

Amaya detected something in his voice that sent the thrill of a shiver racing through her and desperately tried to squelch it.

How the heck had this happened? How had the conversation swerved from Gary and his misdeeds to questions about Amaya’s private life? They agreed to never talk about the past. Chase has done well for the past three weeks. He did. He controlled himself. What on earth possessed her to start sharing her life story like an idiot?

"I can't control anything. And I’ve been very busy getting my career up and going; I have a son to take good care of; I don't have time for such mundane things," Amaya said briskly. "I haven’t had time to cultivate relationships."

"So, no time flirting with Justin, yeah?"

"Oh God, I wasn't flirting with Justin."

Amaya rolled her eyes.

"You surely did..."

"Chase, he is also the boss; I'm sure I need to be polite." Amaya really didn’t have to worry about saying the right thing; she couldn’t get a word in. Instead, she just sat there and listened to his nonsense.

"I told you, don't ever…"

"What is it with you anyway? It's none of your business. My private life, my personal life, is none of—"

"I heard you for the first time, Miss Patterson. I am merely telling you to stay away from my friend."

"It's not like I have to flirt with anyone, as I told you. I'm busy. I have a son to consider and this job. I'm trying to do well." Amaya breathed heavily.

"All work and no play," Chase murmured. "Personally, I’ve always found that a little bit of play makes the work go a helluva lot faster."

What the hell is wrong with this asshole? One moment he is... God, he is such a dick. She thought to herself.

"That approach doesn’t work for me. It never has." She winced at the tenor of her voice—cold, prim, defensive. "And now I think we ought to get the bill. It’s later than I expected. I don’t think it would be fair on Gary if we shoved our discussion of his plight into a few minutes tacked on to the end of a meal. I realise you’ve written him off as a master criminal, but I feel he deserves better than that."

She automatically felt for the bun at the back of her head. Still firmly in place. Unlike the rest of her.

Chase mentally waved aside the topic of hapless Gary and his unfortunate wrongdoings. Tomorrow was another day. He would deal with that later. They would deal with that later. Right now...

"What approach doesn’t work for you?"

Amaya pretended to misunderstand his question.

"Ah. You’ve decided to retreat behind your professional mask. Why?"

"Because we didn’t come here to talk about me. We came to talk about Gary."

"But we didn’t," Chase pointed out with remorseless logic. "We didn’t end up talking about Gary, as it happens."

"And that was a mistake." She breathed a silent sigh of relief as the bill was brought to them, and then breathed an even bigger sigh of relief when the proprietor approached and began enthusiastically quizzing them on what they thought of their meal, his sharp black eyes dancing between the two of them.

So she hadn’t answered his question. And he wasn’t sure why he wanted to find out anyway. But he did. What was it they said about wanting what you couldn’t get?

He watched as she rose, terminating all personal conversation.

"I shall get a taxi home," she told him firmly. Sarcasm dripped from Amaya’s lips, which might seem rude to some and might be no way to talk to your boss—but it was because she did speak to him like that, because she did keep him at arm’s length, and because she was very good at her job, that, despite his stunning initial attitude, in the three weeks she had worked there, Chase hadn’t even attempted to flirt. Well, the odd time perhaps!

Chase ignored her. "I wouldn’t dream of it."

He really was smiling now, thinking he’d got his easy way, holding the door and waiting for her to step outside. So arrogant and so assuming, he really thought he could just snap his manicured fingers and summon her heart to dance—he only seemed to get the message when she ignored him.

Chase ushered her out into a much cooler evening—suitable weather, finally, for her starchy suit and jacket. He made a call on his cell phone, and his car, complete with driver, appeared from nowhere. It pulled over, and he opened the passenger door for her. When she was inside, he leaned down so that he was looking at her at eye level.

"You’ll be happy to know that you’ll be spared my company." Full, sensual lips curled into a smile.

Chase grinned, and she had one of those intuitive moments of knowing that he knew exactly what had been going through her head.

"I’ll get the driver to drop you home, and we can pick up where we left off at a later date."

How loaded with meaning was that single sentence? Amaya swallowed hard before speaking.

"What later date?" She worried at her lower lip. If she could stick a few definite meetings in her work diary, then she would be able to get a handle on seeing him again. And over her dead body if it was going to be in another cosy little restaurant.

"I’ll get back to you on that one," Chase replied with a hint of naughtiness in his eyes.

What the hell was he into now? She thought to herself.

"There is no need; we can talk about it in your office." Amaya groaned, and there was nothing in her voice that requested sympathy—she merely stated the facts.

"I told you before, Miss Patterson. This issue with Gary is confidential, and we aren't going to talk about it anywhere near my building." Holding his hand out, and because it was the polite thing to do, Amaya shook it, feeling his warm fingers close around hers. Then she looked up as he voiced what she was thinking. "This isn't nonsense, you know. This is business." He winked at her.

"I’m sure you do!" Amaya retorted. He was shameless, utterly shameless. "But Mr. Johnson, don’t you want to get this mess sorted out as quickly as possible?"

Amaya was struggling to find her voice.

"You can keep an eye on all the business accounts for suspicious activity, but if there’s none, then why not let Gary enjoy his last supper, so to speak?" He stood up, slapped the hood of the sleek, black Maserati, and remained watching as it disappeared from view.

He hadn’t felt so invigorated for a long time.

And what, he wondered, was a guy to do about that?

"God, what a dick!" she growled. Thinking that, despite appearances, she appeared utterly and completely unruffled by his stunning presence, she caught one glimpse of Chase Johnson, and her stomach was in knots. He was devastatingly handsome, with eyes that stripped, undressed, and bedded you in a matter of seconds, and she had deliberately not returned the favour.