Chapter 28

One month later, Amaya’s rented Toyota swerved on the dusty, potholed driveway of the Johnson farm, and Amanda bit back a curse. "What the f*ck is wrong with him?" Cursing her way into the massive farmland of his boss, she grumbled to herself. "In this Godforsaken town? Seriously? What the hell is he doing here anyway?"

Her average driving skills had little to do with the state of the road or the unwelcome memories of their shared goodnight kisses in his office a week before going to Los Angeles assailing her and everything to do with the naked man bent over a thresher.

Semi-naked, technically, as her gaze riveted on the tantalising expanse of her broad back, glistening.

Shit!

The muscles shifted, bunched, and slid as he straightened and thrust his hands into his back pockets of ripped, faded denim, and as her greedy gaze strayed to his buttocks, she suddenly wished she hadn’t stayed away so long.

A few months in JC Johnson had been a sane choice, a safe choice considering what she’d been running from, but seeing this hot boss on her first morning in this town reinforced that no place on earth bred guys like this small town at the end of the earth.

Amaya should know.

She’d fallen in love with one and given him her heart and everything.

More fool her. Yet she was so cowardly to even consider telling him about Tommy.

She shook her head and tried to act cool.

As she righted the car and approached, Chase half turned, and this time the car sheared straight off the driveway and almost straight into a ditch.

The engine stalled, spluttered, and died as her white-knuckled hands gripped the steering wheel, shock, joy, and mind-numbing lust slamming into her, leaving her powerless to do anything but watch him approach.

Not a flicker of emotion crossed Chase’s face as he reached the car, leaned his tanned, toned forearms on the open window, and gave her a casual nod.

"Hey, Amaya. Long time no see," he smirked.

"I swear, Mr. Johnson, this place is nowhere near four hours' drive from the aiport I—"

"Good morning, then, Miss Patterson. So what do you have for me?"

A casual greeting, without rancour or bitterness; then again, she’d been the one left to pick up his busy schedule when he’d left the city when he decided to take a break from the office.

The greeting and his lack of emotion didn’t do justice to what they’d shared and what they’d given up, and she’d be damned if she showed him anything other than the same lackadaisical nonchalance despite her jack-hammering heart and clammy hands.

Yes, that night at his office, he asked if they could start something new, and right there and then, she declined him after she gave him a long, sweet goodnight kiss. And yes, they arrived in Los Angeles the next day with nothing but blank stares, as if nothing had occurred the night before.

"I came here for the papers; I need them signed—a bunch of them, in fact," she replied irritably. Why the hell did he think about buying farm land anyway? Was he that bored? Was this because she declined his—no! That was impossible. The man was bored—nothing but bored.

Amaya wanted him to acknowledge the time they’d spent apart, a month or so; video chatting doesn't count, and yes, she missed him terribly. She wanted him to ask how she’d been, and she wanted him to finally explain why he’d ended up here.

Instead, Chase shrugged, her gaze drifting to those bunching muscles of their own volition, all too aware of how he’d filled out in the last six years.

He’d been lean rather than muscular back then and now. She wrenched her gaze away from his impressive pecs and focused on his face.

Chase had been good-looking, cocky, and a rebel before.

Chase was now drop-dead gorgeous in a rough-around-the-edges way, still cocky, and, if she read him right, still out to prove to the world he didn’t give a damn.

By the smug grin lifting the corners of an all too kissable mouth, she’d read him just right.

"Come on, Amanda, I told you, you can mail it to me. I'm on vacation for a reason."

"Mr. Johnson, trust me, I don't want to come here or see your face, but Justin has been bugging me every single day. He wanted you back in the office. It's been a month." Something solid, tangible, and guaranteed to keep errant emotions at bay no matter how much she wanted to ask him, ‘what the hell happened to him?’

She’d hoped to avoid him; she'd hoped to do business with Justin, but she’d been a fool.

That's none of your business."

"None!?"

"Yes."

"Ahhh, for fuck’s sake, I'm your secretary; it’s my business to know what's going on in your mind." She sighed. "Your schedule has been piling up. Meetings upon meetings have been cancelled, and—"

"Miss Patterson, you sure are overdramatic; I have to talk to them."

"Sir, online meetings are way different from—"

"Did you come here to mess up my days or what?"

His tantalising eyes narrowed, and Amaya wished he’d stop staring at her as if she had a dirt smudge on her nose. He’d always had the ability to see into her soul, and right now, that was the last thing she needed.

She needed to stay focused. Her job depended on it. "Justin's got a proposition for you about Gary."

"So, you finally found out about—"

"Gary is guilty, yes. But Justin wants to talk about—"

"It's his problem, not mine." He opened the car door, and she stepped out, wishing she could hide her blush.

Chase straightened, all six feet two of lean, hard muscle, and smiled that bad-boy smile she remembered so well—the smile that had haunted her for months when she’d first met him six years ago.

"But—"

"No buts. If you come here to talk about Gary and his boss, then you can go now."

"I came here for the papers too and to convince you to come back to the office."

"Okay, point taken, but I'm not done here yet."

"Here?" She pointed at the massive land. "Here? What are you doing here, anyway? You’re a CEO, not a farmer."

"I know that," he smirked. "I just bet you have thought of me as silly and stupid, yeah?"

He reached out for her hair, twisted a stray strand around his finger. "The wind here is unforgiving."

She pulled away quickly before she did something stupid, such as stand there and let him twist her around his finger, not just by the hair. "Hiding here is silly and stupid."

"Who says I'm hiding?"

"Whatever…" She grumbled with irritation.

Ignoring the glint in his eyes, which seemed a richer, deeper blue than she remembered, she glanced at her watch, hoping he’d get the hint.

"Is your grandfather here? I need to discuss this with him."

His eyes clouded and darkened as pain twisted his mouth. "He died. Guess the news didn’t make it all the way to the big office, huh?"

She paused. "I’m sorry," she said, suddenly ashamed.

"Are you really?" Amaya noticed the angry lines fanning from the corner of his mouth and the indentation between his brows, ageing him beyond his years.

He’d never looked at her like this back at the office then. Uh-uh. Chase might have been a rebel, but he’d never been brooding or angry—far from it.

Six years earlier, he’d only ever looked at her with adoration and desire, and for a brief moment, she wished she could turn back time.

"Of course I’m sorry. I have no idea."

"You’re right. That's why I'm here to mourn; he is my last real family."

"How about your step-sister? Your father?"

"I don't want to talk about it." Chase's voice became serious.

Swiping a hand across his face, he erased the tenseness. His gaze flicked over her, and she clenched her hands to stop smoothing her luxurious suit. His eyes glowed with appreciation, but she didn’t miss the slight compression of his lips, as if her favourite designer suit didn’t impress him one bit.

"Despite your fancy new clothes, surely you remember how bossy I was?"

Woah! Is he asking if I missed him or not? She thought to herself.

He was trying to bait her, just as he always did, and, damn him, she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing exactly how much she remembered; most of her thoughts were centred on him.

"I've been busy the last month, so forgive me if taking a stroll down memory lane hasn’t been high on my list of priorities. If only my boss was done with his little vacation."

"Mocking me now?"

She rolled her eyes.

Amaya expected him to ask about her boring drive, about the office, and about her son; she wanted to show him how she missed him. Instead, he stood there, a semi-naked god totally at ease with his surroundings, the sheen of sweat and dust adding to his rugged appeal rather than diminishing it.

Clamping down on the mental image to run her hands over that glorious bare chest, she cleared her throat.

"I'm not mocking my boss. I'm merely wondering why."

"So... you wondered if I came here to play with town girls?"