More Than Friends (23 page)

Frank narrowed his gaze. “This have anything to do with my daughter?”

“No.”

“What happened between the two of you?”

“She wasn’t keen on relocating at this time.”

“She told you to take a hike.”

“Her phrasing wasn’t that polite.”

For the first time since Chase had shown up at his door, Frank grinned. “That’s my girl.” He sobered quickly. “You serious about this, son?”

Chase noticed that he went from “boy” to “son” rather quickly, depending on which way the older man’s temper was blowing. “I’ve got the projections in my car. As I said, I’m not looking to get rich. I just want out.”

Frank followed him to the door. “While you get those figures, I’ll call the union’s accountant and have him join us.”

“It’s after midnight.”

“Son, there isn’t a mill worker in this town who’s sleeping tonight. Let’s get this finished so we can spread the news come morning.”

Chase stepped outside. Davidson called him back. “What changed your mind?”

“Good question. Jenny. Your granddaughter Tammy. The river.” He thought for a second. “And the fact that I didn’t want to end up just like my old man.”

*

Crow was a dish best eaten—Jenny frowned. Was it hot or cold? She could never remember. The call from her father had come shortly after five in the morning. Chase had changed his mind; the mill wouldn’t be closing. He’d granted her request. And the price was losing him forever.

She walked the floor of the mill. A hard hat, ear plugs and safety glasses provided protection, but the roar of the machinery was still deafening. Furnaces heated iron ore red, then white. The sheets came out flat and thin, still hot enough to burn. She glanced down at the slender scar across her fingers. Chase had one that matched.

Up on the catwalk, someone called her name. When she looked, Mark Anders gave her the thumbs-up sign. She returned the gesture. There was an energy in the mill this morning, a sense of pride in the work done. With a single generous gesture, Chase had crushed the wall between them and given the town of Harrisville a future. Success or failure lay in their own hands. The blame or the accolades would belong to the workers. She grinned. The owners.

When she saw the tall, burly man in a familiar plaid shirt, she hurried over.

“How does it feel to be management?” she shouted over the din.

Her father shook his head. “Strange. Of course it’s not official yet. We’ll be having a vote today to make sure the membership agrees with the proposed plan, then another one to approve the slate of officers and the final contract.”

“Daddy, you’re going to be the president of Jackson Steel.”

“Just make sure you tell me if I start to act like old man Jackson. I think there’s something about his office that gets a man to thinking he’s more important than he really is. First thing I’m going to do is get rid of that fancy furniture.”

“Don’t you dare,” she said, leading him from the mill. “You’ll need a place to impress potential clients.”

“I hadn’t thought of that.” Her father smiled. “Never thought I’d see the day when I’d say this, but I’ve been wrong about Chase.”

“About time.” She slipped off her hard hat and goggles, then pulled out the ear plugs. “You might like to tell him that to his face.”

“And who says I haven’t already?”

“Me.”

Her father made a fist and gently tapped her chin. “You think you’re so smart. Okay. So I haven’t told him yet, but I just might.”

Leaving him to speak to the workers, she returned to the office building.

“He’s here,” one of the secretaries told her when they passed on the stairs. “Arrived about a half hour ago. He’s in the old man’s office, but the door’s closed.”

“Thanks, Millie.”

The corridor had never seemed so long. Jenny hurried the first half of the way, then moved slowly until she was practically dawdling. The dark wood door, carved and imported from Europe, stood shut as her colleague had warned. The imposing barrier made her bite her lower lip before gathering the courage to knock.

“In,” he called.

She turned the knob and stepped inside.

Chase looked up. “Jenny!” After tossing his pen on the desk, he motioned for her to take the seat opposite.

“That’s okay. I’d rather stand.”

A blush stole across her cheek, heating her skin as it traveled. She tried to tell herself it was from having been inside the fiery mill, but the lie didn’t sit well. She was uncomfortable with most of what she’d said the day before. His desire to take her away might have sprung from his need to fix her, but the intentions had been in her best interests. She hadn’t seen that until last night.

He watched her, waiting for her to make the first move, set the tone for the encounter. She saw from his eyes that he would follow whatever lead she chose, that what happened now was up to her.

“I heard about the mill,” she said, picking the easiest of topics. “I know you didn’t change your mind because of me, but thank you anyway.”

“You had a part in it,” he admitted. “You made me see I’d spent a lot of time running. It didn’t help much.” He motioned to the desk, then the room. “Look where I ended up.”

She smiled and moved a step closer. “It’s not so bad. Besides, you’ll be leaving soon.”

“Yeah. Once the negotiations are completed and the contracts drawn up, there’s nothing to keep me here.”

His brown eyes caressed her face. The touch, as gentle yet tangible as the kiss of a breeze, sent a shudder through her. She knew he was asking her something, but what? To go with him? To forgive him? To release him to go alone? She twisted her fingers together.

“I heard you’d been given a promotion,” he said, leaning back in the big leather chair.

How different he looked from his father, she thought. William Jackson had never worn anything but a suit and tie. While Chase wore a long-sleeved shirt, he’d rolled up the cuffs to his elbows and she knew without looking that his lower half was covered by well-worn jeans and cowboy boots.

“They’ve offered me the job of treasurer. It’s a fancy title that comes with a cut in pay.” She moved another step closer. The empty chair stood directly in front of her and she clutched the back.

“About yesterday,” she began.

“Don’t.” He smiled. “You were right.”

“Not about everything. I was in shock and—”

“I needed to hear the truth. Then and now.” He picked up a paper clip and toyed with it, then glanced up at her. “I know this is an odd question, and the timing is off, but did you love me in high school? Not just because we went together or that we’d been friends, but the I-would-have-married-you-and-stayed-forever kind of love?”

She gulped a mouthful of air. “I don’t know what to say.”

“The truth.” His mouth straightened into a thin line. “I need to know.”

“Did you love me?”

“I asked first.”

Jenny finally sank into the chair. “Geez, Chase, you don’t believe in making it easy on a girl, do you? When I gave you that damn watch, you made me admit it before you would. I thought guys were supposed to be the brave ones.”

“That’s a myth. On the outside we’re tough as nails, but inside, about this kind of stuff, we’re—” He smiled sheepishly.

The truth, she thought. Easy enough. So why was her heart pounding against her ribs? “Yes, Chase, I loved you with my heart and my soul. I never got over loving you. Not time, or Alec, or knowing you hated me allowed me to forget.”

He held her gaze. “I loved you, too, but I never knew what that meant. Not until yesterday.”

After rising from his chair, he walked around the desk and stopped in front of her. He leaned one hip against the corner. “Would you go out with me?”

“What?”

“Would you go out with me? On a date. Like it was eleven years ago. Just once, for old times’ sake.”

“I don’t understand.”

He smiled slowly, the lethal grin sending hot ribbons coiling around her stomach—and lower. “I’m talking burgers and fries at the diner, you wearing my letterman’s jacket, if you still have it.”

“I do.”

“Then a movie.”

And parking? she wondered. Did he mean to recreate that part, as well?

“Chase—”

“Don’t you want to go out with me?”

“Yes.” More than he could know.

Time was short. Her father had told her the contract would be wrapped up in less than a week. Chase would sign over the company and go back to his other life. That hadn’t changed. He was still leaving and she had even more responsibilities. It was only one date. A few hours out of her lifetime. A chance to experience the “what if” she’d longed for her whole life.

“Tomorrow?” he asked.

Oh, God. What was she getting into. She smiled and nodded. “What time?”

“Six-thirty.”

“Okay.” She walked over to the door.

“Jenny?”

“Yeah?”

“I’ll be the guy in the Camaro.”

*

“I don’t remember clothes like that in high school,” Chase said, staring at Jenny.

She glanced down and blushed. “I wore jeans all the time.”

“I wasn’t talking about the jeans.”

His gaze lingered on the lacy white strapless top that hugged her breasts and ribs, then disappeared into the waistband of her stone-washed jeans. A slight tan added a touch of gold to her skin. Bare shoulders whispered for his touch, the pulse fluttering at the base of her throat cried out for his kiss.

“These bustiers are very popular now,” she said.

“God bless the fashion industry.”

When she turned to grab her purse, he raised one eyebrow. Rows of elastic held the top in place, while the thin line of a zipper showed him the road home. Anticipation slammed into his gut. It was going to be a hell of a night.

“I, ah, dug out the jacket. Did you really want me to bring it?”

Jenny held up his letterman’s jacket. Chase reached for the garment. White leather sleeves set off the dark blue wool front and back. He traced the letter, the football-shaped decal, the three
V
s for the years played on the varsity team and the stars indicating he’d been team captain.

The wool smelled of cedar and age, but underneath lingered the scents of youth—turf and male sweat, rain and Jenny’s sweet perfume. Their last year of high school, she’d worn the jacket more than he had. It had been their outward symbol. Even on warm days she’d sweltered under the heavy fabric, refusing to relinquish the prize. She’d been
his
girl.

“Maybe you should keep it,” she said. Her smile didn’t reach her eyes. “I planned on returning it to you, after that last day. But…”

But they’d never seen each other again, he thought. She’d been alone and pregnant and scared, and he’d run away.

“No.” Chase slipped the jacket over her shoulders. “I want you to have it. For tonight, it’s high school again.”

“And in the morning?”

He covered her mouth with his finger. “Only good things, Jenny. No past, no future. Just now.”

She’d brushed her hair away from her face. One blond strand drifted across her cheek, and he leaned over to tuck it behind her ear. Subtle makeup shadowed her eyes making them dark and mysterious. Porcelain skin glowed in the twilight.

“You’re beautiful,” he said, then brushed his lips against hers.

Soft, he thought, drawing back, then sampling again. Soft and sweet and—he plunged inside her mouth—warm and moist. He stroked and searched, discovering the textures and flavors. When her tongue flicked against his, fire erupted in his groin and spread outward. His hands squeezed her shoulders, feeling her delicate structure under the covering of his jacket.

She brushed her fingers across his chest; those capable hands danced and circled in an erotic pattern. One nail slid across his nipple. The arrow of need drove down hard. He dropped his hands to her derriere and pulled her tight against him.

Hips slightly rounded by the bearing of a child, cradled his. Her flat stomach pressed against his arousal. Denim on denim provided the friction; their bodies provided the heat.

He wanted her. In eleven years, that hadn’t changed. But somehow, in the last couple of weeks, it had come to be about a lot more than sex.

He raised his head and watched while she slowly opened her eyes. Passion flared in the green depths.

“Why’d you stop?” she asked.

“This is supposed to be like high school.”

“We kissed back then.” She licked her lower lip.

He swallowed. “Not when I first picked you up. Your father would have had my hide.”

“If I’d known you were going for authenticity, I would have invited him by to greet you at the door.”

“No, thanks. Are you ready?”

“Sure.” She picked up her purse from where it had fallen on the floor, then followed him out and closed the door behind her. “Where are we— Oh, my. Chase! I thought you were kidding. Where did you get it?”

He placed his hand on the small of her back and guided her toward the gleaming black Camaro sitting in the driveway. “I rented it from some kid across town. The color’s wrong.”

“I don’t mind.” She ran her hand over the long, sleek hood. “It’s the same year as yours was.”

“Yeah, but it should be red.” He held open the door.

“I’m surprised you didn’t ask the owner if you could paint it.”

“I did.”

She leaned over and unlocked his door. “You’re kidding,” she said, when he slid in next to her.

“Nope. He wanted too much money. I figured once it got dark, we wouldn’t notice.”

The powerful car rumbled to life. Chase pressed on the accelerator and grinned at the smooth sounds from the engine. “Listen to that baby. The kid’s taken good care of this car. He told me it had belonged to his dad.” He saw Jenny grinning at him. “What’s so funny?”

“You.”

“Go ahead and laugh, but I’ll ply you with wine and your tune will change.”

She buckled her seat belt. “Where are we going?”

“The diner. Where else?”

“I don’t think they serve wine there.”

“We’ll pretend.”

He backed out onto the road, then dropped the car into drive and hit the gas. Beside him, Jenny rolled down her window and leaned her head back against the seat.