Chapter 30

"Why the hell would I..."

To Chase’s delight, Amaya blushed, her gaze lingering on his chest for a few too many seconds.

Oh, this just got better and better, he thought to himself. "Come on, Miss Patterson, it's not like you have another choice. My farm house is the most modern dwelling here in the town."

"That won’t be necessary—"

"There is an inn there, but surely you’ll hate the bed bugs there. My extra rooms have all the amenities of a hotel."

Amaya sighed, "Of course, it’s super modern; what did I expect?" Yes, she never expected mundane things with her boss; of course, he'd make his stay like a five-star one. But could she stay? After the kiss? Could she stay in a house with him alone?

"Mocking becomes your hobby, I see. I like that." Chase leaned closer, her awareness of him evident in the widening of her pupils, the tip of her tongue darting out to moisten her bottom lip, and his gut clenching with how badly he still wanted her.

Maybe he should tell her the truth now and be done with it.

But then, where was the fun in that?

"Give me some time to clean up, take a look at your proposal, and we can discuss it over brunch. I'll ask my chef to cook for us. Maybe some coffee and more." He winked before adding, "Come inside."

He scored another direct hit with a reference to her favourite drink back then, her lips compressing into an unimpressed line.

She raised a brow and said, "This is purely business…"

"Of course it is. You've rejected me already, remember?" His glance strayed to her lips, lush and pouting, before sweeping back to her eyes, registering the shock of arousal that made a mockery of their business.

"Business. Ri-i-ight."

To his surprise, she raised a brow. "A month in this isolated place. You haven’t changed a bit. Still the charmer." She was wrong, dead wrong.

He’d changed, and, come five o’clock, she’d discover exactly how much.

Propping on the bonnet, Chase crossed his ankles. "Is it working?"

"Nope, I’m immune to rebel charmers these days."

"Pity."

His glance slid over her, taking in every delicious curve and earning another blush.

"How long are you in town for?"

"For as long as it takes. Justin told me to convince the hell out of you and make you sign all the papers." She’d gone cold again. Retreating back into the business at hand...

His glance swept the distant cane fields his grandfather loved so much, encompassing the sugar cane that was as much a part of him as his heritage, wondering what she’d make of him once she discovered his real goal here.

Amaya sighed and followed him inside.

He grinned and tweaked her nose just as he used to. "By the way, you kissed even better than I remember."

Before Amaya could respond, Chase straightened, chuckling at the instant indignation sparking her beautiful eyes as he strode towards the farmhouse.

Amaya pressed her hands to her flushed cheeks as Chase strode away.

The man was a menace.

In less than ten minutes, he’d managed to unbalance her, unhinge her, and undermine her.

As for that kiss, not only had she stood there and let him do it, she’d responded! Like a woman who hadn’t been kissed in a very long time.

Which, in all honesty, was probably true, considering she’d been so focused on her son.

But that didn’t excuse her eager response, nor did the total and utter meltdown she’d experienced the second his lips touched hers again. Again.

Damn it! Cold ice, my butt.

She clamped her lips shut on a host of expletives and headed for his old oak main door.

In a way, she was glad he’d suggested she stay there to discuss her proposal. She’d be much better prepared to face him again in the cool elegance of his living room bar. And just like before, six years ago. The memories were so real and poignant that her eyes misted over, and she blinked, caught up in the magic of the past when she should have been focused on the future.

Her son’s future depended on her job. There was no time to play. No complications and no heartache

Come five o’clock, she’d make sure Chase, with his sexy smile, flashing dimples, and hot body, knew exactly the type of secretary he was dealing with.

A few minutes later, Amaya sipped her wine as she glanced around the small but wonderful living room bar of her boss.

Surely the man knows how to make everything elegant and gorgeous. From its sandstone-tiled entrance to its pristine whitewashed exterior and its cascading, flamboyant crimson curtain, it beckoned a weary traveller to come in and stay awhile.

As for her beautiful room with its gigantic bed and six hundred-thread-count sheets, double shower, Jacuzzi, and locally made lavender toiletries, she could happily stay there forever.

But this wasn’t a pleasant trip—far from it. This is her job. Just her job. She convinced herself.

She needed Chase to come back, or Justin would tell Chase her secret. It was stupid of her to get drunk and tell Justin everything. Now her boss’s best friend was blackmailing her. Telling her to convince Chase to come back to the city, or he’ll tell Chase about Tommy.

Her plan could backfire, but it would give her confidence an added boost to face her other nemesis on this journey: herself.

Swirling the lime wedge in her drink around and around, she mulled over her son. She loved him so much that she couldn't just give him up to his father. Of course, knowing that Chase was looking for a suitable wife, she never expected that there could be more between them. Chase liked to play, but she couldn't. Yes, he told her he wanted her, but she couldn't risk it. Maybe he liked her for now; what about the near future? What if, in the end, he takes drastic measures and takes Tommy from her? Could she handle that? No. Never. Tommy was her life.

He’d always been domineering, but when she’d turned crazy, he’d gone into overdrive. She’d escaped him six years ago, and she did again back in his office suite one month ago. She hadn’t looked back, but there wasn’t a day that went by when she hadn’t wondered how different her life would’ve been if she’d stuck around.

Would she and Chase had married? Would they have a brood of gorgeous, curly, blonde-haired, dimpled kids?

Swallowing the lump of regret clogging her throat, she glanced up, and the lump expanded to the mountain outside the windows.

"Ehem, enjoying the wine?" She froze as he strode towards her, all long legs, a designer outfit, and a dimpled smile. "Hope you haven’t been waiting long. The chef will bring the food soon."

"I'm good." She faked a smile.

He ducked his head to plant a quick kiss on her cheek, and her senses reeled as she caught the faintest whiff of his familiar woody deodorant mingled with the sweetness of harvested cane.

What the hell was he doing?