“Why not?”
Hello? Did he not grasp the gravity of her predicament?
“I’m not dressed…I’m not ready.”
“You look amazing, as always.”
How could a statement rouse such paradoxical reactions? She didn’t know if she wanted to wring his neck or be a polite southern lady and accept the compliment with dignity.
“I can’t leave my car here.”
“I’ll call Nat or Wes to come fill it up and take it to your house. Leave the key on top of the tire closest to the weeds.” Chase flashed a know-it-all smile. “Any other excuses why you can’t be alone with me?”
Gretchen felt as if a swarm of something Texas-sized had been let loose under her skin. She exited the vehicle, gave a sharp tug on her jacket hem to snap it back into place, and raised her chin. “None whatsoever.”
Chase leaned close, mere inches from her cheek. He brought with him the scent of leather and soap and the woodsy, masculine aftershave she had sampled nose-to-skin during their kiss.
“Careful, chief,” he whispered. “Nose up like that does nothing but drown you in a rainstorm. Certainly doesn’t convince me.”
Lightning came early that day. None that any could see, but feel? That was something else entirely. His words, straight from lips that were divinely crafte
d for sin, bolted straight to the flesh between her legs and left a trail of hot electrical pulses through her ass and thighs.
Seventeen miles per hour did this to her. Made her wonder how she would ever get through another night in the presence of the irresistible Chase Meier with her morals intact.
9
The future that Gretchen de Havilland envisioned for herself looked a little like Gabriel Mendez’s estate.
Okay. A lot.
Her father would, of course, be there. And she wasn’t much for swimming, but an infinity pool would help keep the Texas heat from being too oppressive. The library on the front of the house would be filled, floor to ceiling, with law books, and no one would doubt that she had earned her place alongside the most powerful elected officials in state government.
But how far was she willing to go to ensure that happened? She could keep her promise to Chase to vote for the rezoning and still leak the information, but the questionable ethics in that plan made her skin crawl. Would the payoff be worth the fallout?
Gretchen sat alone on the back porch. Porch was an understatement. There was enough pebbled pavement and intricate landscaping and gorgeously understated garden lighting before her to constitute an entire small town of porches. A ceiling fan turned lazily overhead. The promised evening rain pelted the open spaces and speckled the pool surface. She inhaled the air’s fresh cleanse, burrowed deeper into the soft plush of the outdoor chair cushion, and waited for Chase’s surprise.
After a meal that paired the best of Texas cuisine with the flavors that captured the Mexican heritage of Gabriel Mendez and his family, the attorney general and his wife, Maria, insisted that Gretchen and Chase take in the east view while the couple attended to urgent but brief business that had arisen. Gretchen had thought it best to express their thanks and leave. Chase had other plans. After homemade sopapillas and native honey, he asked Gretchen to head out ahead of him, that he had something that would blow her mind. Then he added understated jazz hands for her eyes only.
For her entire wait, she thought only of the one thing that would, in turn, blow his plans.
The ownership of his property on Main was open to dispute. They both knew the Pickfords wouldn’t pull their punches, if it became known.
“Gracias,” she heard him say to the staff person who opened the kitchen door on his way out. Chase carried a small tray stacked with black-label bottles and bar glasses and a fancy splay of beverage napkins. He placed the tray on the ottoman and settled into the chair beside her.
“That’s sweet. But I don’t drink.”
He looked down at his joined hands. His lips pressed together in a sad smile.
“I know you don’t, Gretchen. I never told you this, but I always wanted to. I’m sorry you lost your mom.”
Chase’s tone was contrite. Absent all teasing, all cockiness, all artifice, his words stoked her ears, her heart, every space in between.
“Thank you. I’m sorry about your dad and your grandfather. They meant so much to the town. The Meiers, my gosh…go all the way back…” She stopped blathering and watched the rain because she wasn’t sure how to frame the information so that she didn’t look like someone who had kept a secret. She had nothing.
“This,” he said, by way of announcement, “is our distillery’s answer to creating a consumable that’s family friendly. These are samples of what is possible, already on the market in Europe, but I’m hoping to go local—things unique to the region, the state—and offer our own twist on distilled botanical water.”
She leaned forward, intrigued. “I love the bottle.”