Chasing the Dream: Dream Series, Book 3 (16 page)

Suddenly there was a beep on Mr. Stevens’ desk and a woman’s voice came through the speaker on his phone. “Jack, your eleven o’clock is here,” she announced.

“Eleven already? I have to go. I’m getting picked up at my apartment in a half an hour to go and get Chase!” I sprang off the chair and dashed to the door.

“Can we do dinner tomorrow night?” my mom asked as I pulled open the door.

“Tomorrow?” I racked my brain trying to remember what I had going on Friday night. “Oh! Ah—I’m going to dinner with Jenny at her parents’ house. Saturday breakfast?” I offered.

“Perfect,” she said. She hugged me and whispered in my ear, “Next time be sure to wait for permission before walking through a closed door.” I blushed so intensely with that little admonishment, I feared I might pass out.

“Would you like me to have Anand drive you to your apartment?” Mr. Stevens offered.

“Oh, Mr. Stevens that would be nice but—”

“Please, call me Jack,” he interrupted. Yeah, I guess that he and my mom having some sort of relationship would mean I could drop some of the formalities.

“Thank you—Jack—but it really is a nice day, and the fresh air would do me good,” I said, declining the limo ride.

N
ot exactly the best way to break it to your daughter that you’re divorcing her dad. Could it have been any more embarrassing that she walked in on Jack and me having sex on his desk? How cliché. It wasn’t the first time we’d had a salacious quickie in his office, but it was the first time we were ever caught. As much as it was a thrill to be on the bawdy side of things, I was always nervous that Jack wouldn’t lock the door, and personally I think he liked the excitement of possibly being caught. Hopefully, he’d lock the door from here on out, because I’m certain this wouldn’t be the last time we would be using his office.

I wondered how Phoebe was taking the news. Was she on the phone to her brothers filling them in? Greg and I were going to have to get on the ball and put calls into them ourselves. I hoped that she would hold off until after we had breakfast on Saturday.

O
n the twenty minute walk back to the apartment, I tried to process what all had just gone down. I don’t know what part of the past forty minutes shocked me most. My mom was getting a divorce, that she was with one of New York’s Most Eligible Bachelors, or having seen her having sex on her new lover’s desk. Quickly I felt nauseous again. Truthfully, the divorce part didn’t really bother me, not as much as it should have. Many of my friends had divorced parents. And having watched how my parents interacted while they were moving me to New York, many things became obvious. How they talked to one another, my dad’s irritation at New York, the ring, and his comment about his flight, and guys with limos… Mom was living in New York! She had to be staying at Jack’s place. Oh! And Shelby’s comment, when I ate dinner at Ed Scott’s that first day working with Chase…about “just missed my mom” at Ed Scott’s. She’s in
town. Been
in town. This was all too bizarre.

As I approached my building on Eightieth Street, I spotted the Town Car waiting for me. I asked the driver to wait while I ran upstairs and touched up my makeup and hair, grabbed Chase’s clipboard, and a bottle of cold water. On the drive to Chase’s hotel, I tried to push my insane morning to the back of my mind. I needed to be on my game to battle wits with Chase.

I texted him just as we approached the building and sat back running through the schedule. I asked the driver how long the drive to New Jersey, where today’s shoot was taking place, was going to be. He said it would take about an hour.
Shit.
I was going to be confined to this small space with Chase… for an hour…
twice
today.

The car came to a stop in front of the hotel, and I was shocked to see Chase out front waiting for us. And if it were possible, Chase looked better than I’d
ever
seen him. In the previous days he’d worn tattered jeans, and sorta slouchy clothes. Today he wore a crisp button down, with the top three buttons undone, and the sleeves rolled up to just above the elbow. His neck, that hollow where the collarbones come together, was especially attractive. My eyes dropped lower and I had a glimpse of that amazing chest. He had a super light sprinkling of golden hair. The guys I had always dated were smooth and I had never been attracted to guys with hair on their chest. Chase was hairy… there was just the right amount. I could imagine running my fingers through it.
Stop it!!
I scolded myself.
You’re not dating him. You work for him. He’s your job. You don’t need another Dickwad Danny. You swore off dating for the summer. Remember?!

He pulled open the door to the car and hopped in, slipping off his sunglasses as he did. He defied every law of physics by taking up more space than was available in this car with his mega-watt smile, perfectly styled hair, and violet-blue eyes looking even darker today.

He leaned over and kissed my cheek, his lips lingering longer than they should, and giving me the perfect opportunity to take in the scent that was Chase.
Did I just moan?
He sat back and just grinned, looking over my black and red ensemble, really enjoying my boots. I shook off his disarming gaze.

“Well, hot-damn, Phoebe. I like this look. Yes, I do,” he said, drawing my attention to him. He ran his tongue along his lower lip and continued, “Very much.”
Shit!

Professional. Work. Summer of no dating,
I reminded myself. “So, New Jersey today. Do you have your script?” I asked, ignoring his comment and doing everything in my power to keep things about business, and keep my mother’s drama out of my mind.

He licked his lips and nodded. “Actually, I do,” he smiled.

“Good,” I nodded.

“So, tell me about Phoebe Fairchild,” he said, settling in as the car headed into the crazy mid-day traffic.

“I’ve already told you everything,” I responded. We’d chatted before over dinner. He knew the basics. He wanted to play the whole getting-to-know-you game, and I was not going to be played. I was afraid to go deeper. I was afraid he’d take what he learned and somehow use it against me. Single Summer. I don’t need a guy. I was going to be that strong woman that my mother was trying to teach me to be.
Shit!
My mom had left my dad and was hooking up with Jack Stevens. Her leaving my dad couldn’t be an easy thing to do no matter how destined you feel you are for another guy. Fuck, I was distractible today. “Small town, northern California girl going to school. The end.”

“Who was your last boyfriend? Was he in school with you? Older? Same age? Were you dating him since high school? What did he do to hurt you?” I looked at him perplexed.
How did he know?
As if reading my mind, he continued, “You mentioned it the first day when you thought I was coming on to you… you got a little worked up over it.”

I blushed recalling the incident in the car that fateful Tuesday after my induction to the world as #ChaseSmythesGirl.

“Why?” I asked him.

“Why what?” he asked innocently…too innocently. “I’m interested. I want to know why you’re so challenging.”

“I’m not challenging. I’m a strong, independent woman.”

“I’ll give you that. But be honest. Is it because someone broke your heart?”

I bit my lip to not let it quiver.
Yes, Danny broke my heart.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “You don’t have to tell me. But I hate him for it. I also kinda like him, because if you were still together, we wouldn’t have met and I wouldn’t have a chance.”

“Who says you’ve got a chance? I don’t need a man to define myself, and I don’t do flings anyway.”
Okay, so I was challenging.

Chase laughed out loud sending electrical tingling through me and warming my body with the deep, throaty sound. God, could anyone have a laugh that was more sexy? I didn’t think so.

Chase’s phone rang and he answered it. He got quiet and listened to the other person. He was a completely different person listening to whomever was on the other end of the call. I felt weird sitting there. The conversation seemed intensely personal. Unintentionally overhearing the word
hospital
from the caller, I busied myself with my phone, avoiding Twitter and scrolling through emails and Facebook posts of my friends, I tried my hardest to ignore the few words Chase spoke.

“Thanks for calling. I’ll buzz her tomorrow morning, what’s her room number?…Call me if things change…I don’t care what she or my schedule says. You got it?…Good…Thanks, Brock. Yeah, bye.” He ended the call and stared out the window.

The tension in the car was thick. Not the typical, electric charged tension that usually loomed in the space. Chase looked like he was hurting. “Everything okay?”
Dumb! Of course it’s not okay! Look at him!

His eyes swept to mine. He searched my face. Not like he’d done in the past. Not like he was figuring out a puzzle. Not like he was planning on jumping my bones. He searched for…a friend? “Yeah. Has to be,” he whispered. His voice wasn’t the confident and strong Chase I’d seen the past three days. He wasn’t the ‘player.’ He was unsure. He was broken.

“Well, if you need a friend to talk to, I’m a really good listener,” I said quietly, reaching out and taking hold of his hand. And like the atmosphere in the car, this wasn’t the electromagnetic pulse that accompanied our touches. This was a different physical connection.

He looked down at our hands, studied them, and gripped a little in response. He didn’t let go. He just held my hand. We drove the rest of the way to the shoot, which took a little more than forty minutes, in silence just holding hands. The ride wasn’t strained, exactly. It wasn’t comfortable, exactly. But it was a connection. Like Chase was holding on for dear life.

When we pulled up on set at five minutes to one, I watched Chase morph in an instant before my very eyes. He turned on a dime from melancholy and pensive to bright and excited. Once again he was the charismatic Chase Smythe that I, and the world, was familiar with.

For the next several hours I watched Chase work, but not like he had in the previous days. Today he was wickedly focused. All business. Still super friendly, laughing with other actors and very cooperative with the producers, but I could see that something was different. We didn’t head off set on our own for dinner, but maybe that was because he wasn’t as familiar with the area. We ate with the crew at the ‘craft services’ tables, which was a spread catered in burritos that were only so-so.

The whole afternoon and night, my mind battled between my mother’s drama and that call Chase took in the car. My mom’s situation was more or less straightforward, but Chase’s call was cryptic. Who was the ‘her’ and ‘she’ in that phone call? I hadn’t read that anyone in his family was sick. He didn’t say so the other night. Was he one of those celebrities that were dedicated to an ill fan? Was a ‘fellow’ actor not well, a friend? A past girlfriend? Maybe one who was in ‘trouble’? Had he gotten someone pregnant? Seemed the most likely. If I was totally honest with myself, I was a tad bit jealous of this mystery girl. And at the same time, annoyed that he knocked someone up. Typical man. But it was kinda sweet that he cared to be interrupted with whatever he was doing to take care of her. And it wasn’t like I wanted a relationship with Chase, so it was all good. Right?

Before filming wrapped, one of the half a dozen assistant producers I’d met earlier came up to me with a bound set of papers. “You’re Chase’s PA?” he asked.

“Yes, sir. Phoebe Fairchild,” I said extending my hand to introduce myself.

“Yeah, okay. Chase needs these for next week. Script has changed, new lines,” I nodded and took the pages that were marked
CONFIDENTIAL—CHASE SMYTHE (DETECTIVE YOUNG).

I clipped the thick stack of pages into the clipboard and said, “I’ll make sure he has these and understands they’re for next week,” assuring the producer. He nodded and was off.

After the shoot wrapped around one fifteen in the morning, Chase hopped into his trailer for a shower. It wasn’t until two o’clock when Chase sauntered over to me where I was slouched, half asleep in the chair I’d claimed as mine. His hair had only been towel dried which gave an incredible, ruggedly handsome effect, and he looked supremely chivalrous as he held out a hand. “Sorry that took so long. You look like you could fall asleep right here. Ready to head home?” he asked.