Chapter 19
Reese
The hotel gave us rooms right next to each other. After hanging my dresses in the closet, I stripped out of my clothes, pulled my hair up in a ponytail, and took a quick shower. Letting hot water massage my shoulders, I relaxed and thought about how much I’d loved spending the day with Chase. Working side by side, shopping together, sitting in the car as we drove to our hotel—everything just felt natural. What didn’t feel natural anymore was pushing the man away from me. Instead, it felt like I was depriving myself of something that could possibly be really special.
Bill and Melinda Gates had started out working together. He was her boss even.
Michelle Obama was Barack’s mentor at the law firm where they both worked.
Celine Dion married her manager—who was more than twenty-five years older.
Some things worked. Some things didn’t. There were more consequences when things didn’t last and you worked together, but sometimes the possibilities outweighed the consequences.
Possibilities.
When Chase knocked a little while later, I had just finished getting dressed. My hair was up in a messy bun, and I’d traded my sleek black suit in favor of a simple jersey wrap dress with a lively print of greens and blues. My red heels were now open-toe sandals.
His eyes slid over me. “We could skip dinner…”
I shoved at his chest and exited my room without putting on the necklace I was going to wear because I didn’t trust myself to invite him inside while I finished getting ready. The way Chase looked at me while we waited for the hostess to seat us—his eyes dropping to my cleavage—I don’t think he missed the diamond pendant I hadn’t had a chance to fasten around my neck.
During appetizers, we talked about the focus group and plans for tomorrow before moving on to more intimate conversation. I was mindlessly tracing my finger through the condensation on the base of my wine glass when Chase reached over and traced the scar on my hand.
“It almost looks like a tattoo. Even your scars are beautiful.”
I remembered what I’d noticed on Chase’s body earlier. “Speaking of tattoos…I couldn’t help but see yours this afternoon. Is it your only one?”
Chase leaned back in his chair. “Yes.”
The fact that he didn’t offer more and seemed anxious to move on from the subject made me pry even further. “What does it say? They’re words, right?”
He looked around the room, then lifted his drink and took a healthy gulp. “It says Fear does not stop death. It stops life.”
I waited until his eyes finally settled on me to speak. “Well, I can certainly relate to that.”
We stared at each other. I struggled to find the right words of encouragement to get him to open up as his eyes left mine and went back to my scar. I hadn’t found those words yet when he unexpectedly continued.
“Peyton and I went to high school together. We were friends—didn’t get together until my last semester of college. My life was moving really fast by then. I had patents, office space…I was hiring staff.” He paused. “A year after we graduated, I proposed. She died two days later.”
My heart practically leaped into my throat. There was pain in his voice, and I literally felt tightness in my chest. “I’m sorry.”
He nodded and again took a minute before continuing. “I was pretty screwed up afterward for a long time. It’s why I initially licensed most of my products. I was drinking heavily and knew I wasn’t in the right frame of mind to do everything it would take to bring new products into the marketplace myself. Luckily, my lawyers were in the right frame of mind. They negotiated deals where I got a generous royalty just for letting companies use my patents for a few years. I kept my research team, so I had something to focus on, but there wasn’t much else I had to do.”
“Sounds like you did the right thing.”
“Yeah. In hindsight, I did.”
I was dying to ask the question but wasn’t sure what words to use. “How did…your fiancée…I mean…was she…sick?”
He shook his head. “No. She was assaulted. Seven years ago next week. Never caught the guy who did it.”
I reached out and took his hand. “God, I don’t know what to say. I’m so sorry.”
“Thank you.” He paused then said, “It was a rough few years. Even when I began to date again, I don’t know that I was capable of doing anything more than…you know—” He gave me a sexy half smile. “—dating.”
“You mean having sex.”
He nodded. “Don’t get me wrong—I don’t want to sound like a total asshole. I never led women on. I just wasn’t interested in more than a physical connection. It wasn’t intentional. At least I don’t think it was. I don’t know. Maybe I wasn’t ready to move on. Or maybe I just hadn’t met the right person to move on with.”