The Three-Week Arrangement (Chase Brothers) (11 page)

And he couldn’t hold on to her any more than he could let go.

The ride back to the city was quiet. By some miracle, he found a parking spot in front of his building. He killed the engine and looked over at the woman who had so easily invaded the emotional fortress he’d built for himself after he lost Amy, when
he’d been determined to avoid putting himself in the position of ever again having to let go.

“Why are you so determined to put me in a calendar?” he asked, breaking the tension. He hadn’t intended to make her laugh, but there was that sound anyway. He was starting to love it.

“In the altruistic sense, because you’d sell it by the thousands.”

He could stare at those dancing eyes
for hours. “Sounds like there’s another reason.”

“Because,” she said softly, “that would be my favorite page.”

God, she tore him in two. “You do realize you already have at least a dozen photos of me?”

She tugged at the hem of his tee and leaned her head back against the seat. “Not with your shirt off.”

“You have a thing for shirtless men, don’t you?” Her fingertip had
grazed his skin, and the phantom touch burned hot. He was well on his way down a dangerous road—one on which he’d stand, broken, while she conquered the world. He felt as if he was in a canyon, watching her fly. They had the same walls and the same ground, but she had a way out. She had a view he couldn’t hope to achieve. A life he couldn’t dream of. She was wild. Free. She’d never belong to anyone,
and he only wanted to belong.

“Shirtless men?” she asked, dragging him back. “Honestly, not really.” She toyed with his shirt, leaving him irrationally feverish. “I don’t want to sound judgmental,” she said, “but based on personal experience, most of those male models are vapid, self-absorbed assholes. I don’t particularly look forward to working with them, but when the end result benefits
something important to me, I suck it up and take the pictures.”

Traffic pushed by just outside the car window but he barely noticed. “I find it interesting that you think I’m model material.”

“I think you could handle it for a day,” she said wryly.

“I think I like being your assistant better.”

“Ah, yes.” She leaned back and closed her eyes. “I’m definitely going to miss
that about you.”

“About what happened up there—”

Her eyes snapped open. “Don’t you dare apologize or say it was a mistake. Don’t take that from me. Don’t take it from
yourself
.”

“Okay.” But it wasn’t, because despite what he knew about the very different directions they were headed, what he really wanted was to do it again.

And he had no idea what the hell he was going
to do about that.

…

Other than texting to check on Shaggy, Rue didn’t go out of her way to talk to Ethan over the next couple of days. The planning committee thing was Tuesday, and she wasn’t sure if he’d be there…or if she wanted him there. It was bad enough she’d have to deal with her mother and Boyd. And while not at all unpleasant that she’d probably see Ethan’s mother, she didn’t
like the impression she was likely to leave by failing to pretend she could stomach Boyd. She considered not attending at all, but she wanted to talk to Boyd’s grandmother about her calendar idea, and she sure as hell wasn’t going over to the Von Adler residence to do it.

By the time she was ready to walk through the door, she’d almost convinced herself this didn’t have to be a disaster.
Then she saw Ethan talking to Boyd, and that theory went straight to hell. Both men looked at her, so she had little choice but to go over to them, where Ethan promptly slid his arm around her.

Boyd scowled. “So it’s true? You two are dating?”

Rue ignored the question. “I have an idea I’d like to talk to your grandmother about. Do you think she’ll have a moment after the meeting?”

“Find out yourself,” Boyd said. He gave her a dirty look, tripled it for Ethan, then turned and stalked off.

“Classy,” Ethan muttered.

“See? Actually, no, you haven’t seen anything.” She took his arm and pulled him aside. The meeting was held in the Trustee’s Room of the central library—while luxurious, an interesting choice for a woman whose fortune reportedly rivaled the greatest
in New York City. Supposedly the location brought the charity to the community. Nice theory, but the meeting wasn’t advertised or open to the public, so the PR fell flat. But still, she had to give Mimi Von Adler credit for roughing it among the plebeians.

Once she had Ethan in a corner, she asked, “What are you doing here?” Her heart raced. Not something that was prone to happening when
she went to the library, but then again, she hadn’t met him there before. He’d made a single kiss feel like the greatest adventure of her life, and that left her more than a little lost. And not in the good way.

“I had a feeling you’d need backup selling our relationship.” His words were so matter-of-fact, she couldn’t help but wonder if he’d taken an emotional step back. Did he regret kissing
her? She hadn’t wanted to know at the time, but she’d since thought of little else.

She glanced around, but no one stood close enough to hear his quiet proclamation. “That’s an interesting way of putting it,” she said.

“I wanted to support you.” Simple words, but meaningful. Words she was pretty sure no one else had ever said to her in her entire life.

She grinned. “That’s more
like it. Is your mom here? I’d like to say hello.” As she spoke, she looked and quickly spotted Liam and Crosby off to one side.

“The whole gang is here. Mostly rubbernecking, is my guess.”

“Mostly
what
?” She inadvertently caught Liam’s eye. He seemed to be the most suspicious of the group, probably because Ethan was the closest to him by birth order. They probably had a tighter bond.
Guilt crept in. She really liked Ethan’s family, and while she was sure they wouldn’t miss her when she was gone, she hated that they’d hurt for Ethan.

“Spying on us,” Ethan said.

She took him in. He’d never be the life of the party, but he’d always be a rock. He’d probably never let down anyone in his life. He may think he’d disappointed his family by not moving on after his wife
died, but Rue suspected he had that part wrong. If she’d known him such a short time and already ached for his happiness, she couldn’t imagine how they must feel. “How much of a show do you want to give them?”

His brow kicked up. “I’m not looking to get arrested.”

Apparently she’d worried him, which amused her, but she rolled her eyes anyway. “Are you ever?”

“You haven’t convinced
me…yet.”

“Challenge accepted.”

He responded with enough regret in his expression that she laughed out loud. He didn’t get a chance to say anything, though, before the meeting was called to order. They found seats at the far end with Ethan’s family, garnering raised brows from the entire lot of them when Ethan took her hand and held it.

Her expression must have portrayed her surprise
because he leaned in. “People are watching.”

“I’m not sticking around to care what they think,” she whispered back. “You are. Besides, our hands are under the table.”

“Good point,” he said, punctuating with a light kiss to her ear that left her reeling.

As did his words.

What were they supposed to mean? He certainly didn’t back off, and she remembered he had all the reason
in the world to sell their relationship, especially to his family, who sat around them.

Bleakly, she wondered if that was what the kiss had been about. Correction: kisses.
Amazing
kisses.
Don’t be stupid
. The only witness to that was the balloon pilot, and he didn’t know them from the next couple. Ethan had held her—
kissed
her—because he wanted to. And she’d probably carry those moments
the world over, breathing in their sweetness when she had nothing else to cling to. Pretty tame as far as earth-shattering experiences went, but she’d never wanted anything so bad in her life. Which was a blaring neon sign that she keep her distance.

Later. She’d keep her distance later.

She barely heard most of the meeting, after which Boyd’s grandmother was swamped. The eighty-something-year-old
woman was crazy as a loon—evidenced in part by the empty, vintage cigarette holder she waved around like a wand—and at best an eccentric dresser—cue the white floppy floral hat that looked like a silk pillowcase puddled on her head—but she was also godawful rich, and it seemed like most of the people in the room wanted to be seen holding her attention. There was no way Rue was going
to get a chance to talk to her that evening, and the longer she hung around, the more likely her mother would ambush her. In fact, she was shocked it hadn’t happened yet, but her parents were there for networking, and Rue, standing with Ethan’s family, was probably more of a detriment at that point.

Typical.

“You want to get out of here?” Ethan asked.

“If you can take me to ice
cream, it’s a deal.”

“That’s an offer I can’t refuse,” he told his family. “I’ll see you guys in the morning.”

They said their good-byes and managed to escape any communication with her mother, which as far as Rue was concerned, made the night. She still needed to talk to Boyd’s grandmother, but maybe she could just send the charity an email. She’d need their agreement in writing anyway.

“What’s on your mind?” Ethan asked.

“Ice cream,” she repeated. They hadn’t arrived together, but they were clearly leaving that way. Especially if ice cream was involved.

“That guy really is a jerk,” Ethan said. “I mean, he still looks like a jerk when he’s sitting still with his mouth shut. That takes some talent.”

“It’s because he’s a spoiled, petulant child,” she said.
“One who turned a bored look into an insult.”

“Forget him,” Ethan said.

“I plan on it,” she assured him.

He was quiet for a moment. She was on the verge of reminding him about the ice cream when he spoke.

“Sitting there listening to all those gala plans made me realize something. You don’t need to get home any time soon, do you?”

“Not if you have ice cream.”

He stared blankly. “You’ve mentioned ice cream twice in two minutes. At this point I’m afraid to hand you any, lest I lose my arm. Did you drive?”

“No, took a cab.”

“Good. I have my truck.”

So she could invade more of his personal space. This was getting dangerous…for her. “First your apartment, then your bedroom when you introduced me to your new roommate, and now your truck.
Careful there…you’re letting me in.”

She’d been teasing, but to her own ears the words sounded like a warning—the kind that would shut down a guy like him, at least toward a woman who wasn’t his wife. But instead of backing down from the inflated importance of her words, he just grinned.

“I want you in. At least until you leave.”

Well, now she was screwed. She more or less understood
the man who couldn’t let go of his past—
off limits
was as easy as it got—but whether or not he was teasing her with his
want
, those were loaded words. Words the Ethan Chase she’d met just a few days ago couldn’t have said if his life depended on it, at least not if the years before her meant anything near as much as the days since. And, of course, they did.

They stopped for ice cream—not
at a shop, but at a grocery store. He snagged a half-gallon of chocolate, and she went straight for the coffee flavor, wondering the entire time what in the world they were going to do with a gallon of ice cream. Back in the truck, he asked what kind of pizza she liked.

“Absolutely any kind but anchovy.”

He handed her his phone. “There’s an app. Order anything but anchovy.”

She felt a little odd with his phone—probably because absolutely no one touched hers and lived to tell about it—but she didn’t argue. And he didn’t even look her way. She could have been digging through anything, and he wouldn’t know any different. Clearly he was indifferent, but the whole gesture rang of intimacy.

She scrolled through his apps until she hit a pizza place, then pulled up
his saved order. Extra-large Brooklyn style with everything but onions and anchovies. She clicked her way through the order until the confirmation screen appeared, then set his phone on the seat between them. “Fifteen minutes,” she said, and settled back against the seat.

The late model truck had a million gadgets and electronic features that had come decades too late for her car, including
a GPS that informed her they were less than five minutes from his apartment. Her stomach fluttered and that took her back to the balloon ride. She had not, for one second, foreseen that as something that could turn romantic. She’d seen the advertisements, of course, but this was Ethan. Sexy, hard-loving Ethan with his rough hands, and purveyor of the tenderest kisses she’d ever,
ever
experienced.
It had been a fluke. She knew that. Knew it was more about the situation than it was her. Even wondered if he’d seen someone else when he’d pulled her in, but instinctively she knew otherwise. Whatever fueled that kiss, it had been theirs.

And that terrified her. Even if they had something between them, it wouldn’t be enough to make her stay. She’d been there a dozen times before, standing
at the beginning of something that felt as if it could go somewhere. Inevitably mistaken. She might feel differently about Ethan than she had any man before him, but that wasn’t enough to give up her dream. Not even if he really was different. Maybe
especially
not. Because if he tried to keep her off that plane, that would mean he didn’t understand her at all. And that might be even more devastating
than leaving him behind.

She tried to push that looming separation out of her mind, but going up to his apartment wasn’t exactly conducive to not thinking about him…at least not until she saw Shaggy. The dog’s tail thumped in recognition, and Rue went straight to her and scratched under her chin.

Ethan watched them, a smile toying at his lips. “Sawyer said she looks like a skinny hippopotamus.”