Chase

 

I threw my keys on the table to the right of the front door and went straight to my office. After hitting the power switch on the wall that booted up all my computers, I headed for my bedroom.

Inside the pristine, stark white master bathroom, I stripped my gym shorts and damp T-shirt from my sweaty body and walked into the shower. Running early in the morning when the sun hadn’t even risen yet was my time to clear my head and start the day off fresh.

As I showered, I thought about the gorgeous brown-eyed girl who I’d run into outside the bar’s bathroom. When my eyes roamed her sweet body, my cock had twitched, which had never fucking happened before, and I’d been ready for round two… with her. It had downright scared the fuck out of me, so it’d been time to abort. It wasn’t until I got to the door, turning back to get one more look at her, that I realized she’d been the shadowy figure from the parking lot.

Honestly, if it hadn’t been for her watching us, I might’ve not even gotten off. Fuck, I loved when I had an audience, and the ones that hid in the shadows with prying eyes were even better. It’d encouraged me to fuck harder, without any restraint. Just how I liked it.

I threw on a pair of jeans and worked my way toward the kitchen. After grabbing a cup of black coffee, I leaned against the counter and took in the spacious area. The wall of sliding glass windows sat on the opposite side of the huge penthouse where I saw the amber glow of the sun just starting to rise, illuminating the balcony that held two padded Adirondack chairs with a simple iron table between them and a grill off to the side.

The wall adjacent to that housed a seventy-inch flat-screen TV, surrounded by sound bars and speakers placed neatly on shelves. My oversized L-shaped black leather couch took up a large area in the center of the room. Four black-red-and white-patterned throw pillows were piled in the corner, decorating efforts by my sister that hadn’t been touched since she’d been here two weeks ago. A large wooden trunk used as coffee table sat in the middle of the L.

The kitchen was modest: black-stained wood cabinets, black-and-gray speckled granite countertops, and stainless steel appliances. I liked things neat, simple, and organized. There’d been no need for those little fucking knickknacks or frames to clutter the area.

I pushed off the counter and made my way toward my office. Sitting in the plush leather chair, I placed my coffee mug on the coaster and retrieved my phone from the charger.

Two missed calls from Lane, one voicemail, a text from my sister, and five e-mails. I hit the voicemail icon and put in my password then heard Lane’s voice: “Hey, I saw the blonde came back. Where’d you go, man? Call me tomorrow.”

I deleted this then opened my sister’s text to see that she was insisting I come down next weekend for dinner. I didn’t respond, and tossing my cell onto my desk, I turned to my keyboard to type in my passwords. I had two security words to get into my computer. Information I had stored on it could destroy people and land some in jail, not to mention the consequences I would have to deal with.

I brought up my e-mail, read the new messages, and made a couple of notes to send out invoices on cases that were now closed. I saved the one I’d read last night to open last. Once it was up on the screen, I sat back with my mug in hand and read it again.

As I suspected, I got the same fucking cute factor from the words. I took the last gulp of coffee and put it back down onto the desk. Moving the cursor over to the second screen, I brought up the background check software I used, and logging in, typed in her name: Naomi McAllister.

I hadn’t drawn up a picture in my head of what she could look like, but the image that popped up on my screen had all the blood draining from my body.  It was her, the shadowy figure from the parking lot, the stunning woman who had walked right into me in the hallway.

Holy fuck!

My cock twitched.

I looked down at the crotch of my jeans for a brief second, as if it might talk to me then moving my eyes back up to the screen, I gazed at the same soft brown eyes that I had last night, ignoring the rush of heat that ran through my body and settled in my balls.

Naomi’s long, wavy brown hair was flowing down her bare tanned shoulders. The blue tank top was tight and the jeans that encased her lower half were snug and showed off the curves of her body.

My jeans began to feel constricted as I shifted in the chair.

What the fuck?

I started scrolling through the images and every single one got better. One picture had me stopping. She was standing on a beach facing the camera with her head tilted, smile in place, and hands on her hips. The white bikini stood out against her bronze skin. Her body was on full display, and fuck, did she have curves, ones that had me wanting to explore every inch of her body.

What were the fucking odds of her being the same woman I’d seen last night? Was someone playing some sick fucking joke on me?

I maximized the photo and leaned back in my seat, my hand automatically reaching for my jean-covered crotch as I began rubbing my rock-hard cock.

Fuck!

Before I knew what the fuck was happening, I imagined her underneath me. Pounding into her while I held her arms captive above her head. Those soft brown eyes gazing into my blue ones with nothing but pure ecstasy beaming from them. Thrust after thrust of my cock driving into her, her calling out my name as her pussy gripped…

What in the fuck are you doing?

I rapidly rose from my chair, causing it to slide back and bang into the huge oak cabinet that lined the opposite wall. My quick steps took me from my office, through the penthouse and out onto the balcony. I stretched for the pack of smokes on the small iron table and lit one, inhaling the toxic smoke and letting it out with a heavy breath.

I had once been a big smoker years ago, but now the only time I reached for a cigarette was when I felt stressed or overwhelmed. It had a relaxing effect on me like nothing else.

My sister was always on my ass to fully quit. But I’d told her the eight bucks I spent a week on a pack compared to the damage I could do if I lost my temper was a hell of a lot cheaper. She agreed. And I knew she would because the last time I had seen my dad was at her house, and that incident had me buying her new kitchen cabinets and a set of dishes.

I put my elbows to the iron railing, took another drag, and looked down at the bustling morning traffic. I had never, not ever, experienced what’d just happened to me from looking at a fucking picture of a woman, moreover, the same fucking woman I’d seen last night. I took a deep breath, sucking in the cool Denver morning air, stubbed out my smoke and went back to my office. 

“Fucking hell,” I muttered when I sat down and was greeted once again with the beautiful woman staring back at me. I knew then I had to take her case. I wasn’t one to go with calling it fate and all that romantic flowery shit like that but something was definitely bringing us together.  

I slid the cursor back over to the main screen and hit Reply to her e-mail. As soon as I typed in the instructions I needed her to follow, I shut down all her information. I next sent a quick text to my sister that I’d be there, but only if she was making her beef stew and cornbread casserole. My sister knew when I went to her place for dinner that it was the only time I truly had a well-balanced meal. I liked to cook and did it often, but it was mainly guy food, consisting mostly of grilled steaks, chops, and burgers.

I left my office and moved to the bedroom, grabbed a black thermal from the drawer, threw it on, next my boots and snatching my keys and wallet from the entry table, I headed out the door.

 

****

 

 

Naomi 

 

“I’m sorry, sir, but that room isn’t available,” I said to the irate older gentleman again. “How about the Sun Valley suite? It has breathtaking views of the mountains.”

“No,” he barked, causing a few guests littering the foyer to look our way. “Get me your manager.”

That’d always been my favorite line from customers. I held my smile firmly in place, although in my mind I was ready to punch this guy, and nicely told him, “I am the shift manager on duty, sir.”

He let out a grunt and muttered to himself, “Figures.” Then he turned to the petite woman standing two feet from him and ordered, “Millie, grab your bag. We’re leaving.”

His wife flashed me an apologetic smile and I returned it. I waited until they were a few steps from the lobby doors when I called out, “Thank you for visiting the Landslide Resort! Please come again!”

The older gentleman swiftly turned his head and glared at me before walking out the automatic glass double doors. I heard a deep rumbling chuckle come from the lobby that sent a shiver down my spine, but as I was about to turn and find the source of the laughter that caused the tingling sensation to run down my body, Marcy spoke.

“You go, girl!”

I rotated on my high-heeled shoes, taking in Marcy, who was eighteen, and had just graduated five months ago in June. She’d started working at the Landslide three weeks ago on a part-time basis, her job consisting of keeping the lobby spotless and the refreshment bar stocked.

“Thanks.” I smiled at her and went back to the list of occupants that were to check out the following day.

Working in a high-end ski resort as a part-time shift manager had its perks. Getting fifty percent off any spa service was definitely the best, and sometimes even worth all the headaches that came with the job. The free skiing didn’t do anything for me, since I wasn’t interested in it.

I glanced over at the digital clock on the phone and seeing the time, picked it up. After two rings I heard, “Lunchtime already? Woo, this day is just flying by. Give me one minute, child, and I’ll be right out to relieve you.”

“Thanks, Grace,” I was able to get in before she hung up.

I loved Grace. She was well into her sixties, but acted twenty at times. She was straight out of a country kitchen in the heart of Alabama. She and her husband had owned a bed-and-breakfast up until he passed away five years ago, which had brought her to Denver to live with her son and his family.

Grace was the reservation host and was wonderful at her job. She had a way of speaking that always left me feeling warm and cozy inside with a smile plastered on my face.

“And what is Mimi eating today?” I heard Grace’s Southern drawl from behind me.

When I’d started working at the Landslide two months ago, it took until the third day for Grace to start calling me Mimi. She was the only one to use it and I liked hearing it from her. It felt like we had a special connection, and I liked that feeling too.

“I’m just going to get something down at The Bridge,” I replied while logging out of the computer.

The Bridge was the restaurant on the grounds of the resort. It was built ten yards out in the middle of a small lake and looked similar to an old log cabin. The only way to get to the restaurant was the beautiful lit bridge, hence the name. During the dead of winter, the lake froze over and was used for ice skating, which was when the restaurant used an order window for skaters to make their purchases right from the ice.

“Mimi, I knew you’d be eating there again. Child, I packed you a lunch. It’s in the breakroom fridge labeled, ‘You touch, I break your hand,’” Grace informed me while pulling the stool over to the computer next to the one I’d been using.

She sat down with a huff and before I could respond, she complained, “Are these stools shrinking, ’cause I know my ass isn’t gettin’ any bigger.”

I giggled. “The stools are getting smaller.”

“I thought so,” she mumbled.

I looked to my left when she said, “Thank you for calling the Landslide Resort. When may I book your best vacation?”

The headset was placed perfectly onto her ponytailed hair. Her flawless mocha skin was colored with the slightest bit of pink on her cheeks, and her lips were covered in crimson gloss. She was a stunning woman.

I leaned over and placed a kiss on her puffy cheek and whispered, “Thank you, Grace,” into her uncovered ear.

She smiled up at me while she continued to talk.

 

****

 

Even though there was a chill in the air, I decided to sit on the outside patio of The Bridge which was lined with portable heaters. Only a few people were scattered around at the small tables sipping their hot beverages and breathing in the steam coming from their gold paper cups.

I pulled out the contents of the brown paper bag with huge red lettering on it and smiled when I retrieved a Ziploc bag half filled with homemade bread and butter pickle chips, one of my favorites of Grace’s cooking. Next came her to-die-for chicken salad piled on fresh-baked honey wheat bread.

Yes, she had definitely taken care of me.

I popped a pickle chip into my mouth before reaching into my purse for my cell. It notified me I had one text message and one e-mail.

Wow, I was popular today.

Tapping the screen, I brought up the text from Braydon. No surprise, it was informing me he had a last-minute business trip and would be leaving tonight and be gone for three days.

They say the first year of marriage is supposed to be the honeymoon stage; well, they’re dead wrong. Okay, maybe only where my marriage is concerned. Braydon and I had been together for seven months. Five months of dating, which was a wonderful time full of laughs and adventures, and two months married, which had been horrendously boring.

I’d made a huge mistake during the time when we dated, pushing all the girlfriends I had aside for Braydon because I’d been love-struck, blind to anyone and everything around me. Now I’d lost all contact with my friends and had no one to talk to or vent to about my problems. 

I’d thought maybe when we moved to Denver things would change between Braydon and me. He’d been brought into Sparks Investment Banking as a trainee junior partner. I knew the hours would be long and there’d be business trips, but never to this extent. We’d relocated to a place where we both didn’t know anyone, and I’d been hoping that would help us to reconnect and become closer.

Of course that hadn’t been the case. It seemed as though we’d actually grown further apart from one another. Plus, I had a sneaking suspicion that he was having an affair because he hadn’t touched me since the first night we’d spent in Denver in our new perfect home. Or maybe it could be that the other night when I’d called him, a woman had answered his cell phone. Naturally, this had thrown up red flags all over the place but when he’d gotten on the line, he’d explained it away saying she was a business partner and they were going over their presentation. The last I had known, Braydon was taking on this account himself.

“Hey, Naomi. Can I get you something?” The familiar male voice broke through my depressing thoughts.

I looked up to see Scott standing next to the table with a huge smile on his face. He was a server at The Bridge and from what I’d gathered from our interactions, he had a crush on me.

“Hi, Scott.” I smiled and continued, “No, I’m good thanks.”

“Not even a caramel hot chocolate?” he coaxed with a grin.

“Uhh, Scott,” I huffed out lightheartedly before giving in. “Fine. Bring me one but make it small.”

His grin got bigger then he winked before walking away.

When I’d first started working here and asked for one, it’d tasted like liquid gold. Therefore, I’d ordered it frequently when I ate lunch at The Bridge. I swear, it was better than sex. Well, for me it was, considering I hadn’t had sex in like… forever.

Depressing thought number two aside, I opened my e-mail, then laid my cell beside me and took a bite of my sandwich. Once I saw there was a reply to the e-mail I’d sent to Dark Edges PI, I swiftly grabbed the phone from the table. As I chewed the mouthwatering mixture of chicken, cranberries, and walnuts, I began to read.

You will need to get a prepaid cell phone and email me the number ASAP.

CB

That was it. That was all the e-mail said. I was definitely confused and intrigued. I scrolled down, then up. Yep, that was all it said.

“Everything okay?” Scott questioned as he positioned the small gold paper cup with The Bridge printed in black ink on it in front of me.

“Yeah,” I muttered, perplexed.

“Doesn’t sound like it.”

I shook the words of the e-mail from my head and replied more confidently, “Yes, I’m fine. Thank you.”

Scott cocked his head and squinted, trying to assess me. I smiled, lifted my hefty sandwich and took a big bite. He took the hint and left me to my lunch.

Gazing out at the mountain that had patrons sliding down the fluffy white snow, I made a mental note.

Stop at Walmart on the way home.