Kate Hewitt - Powerful and Proud - Beneath the Veil of Paradise / In the Heat of the Spotlight / His Brand of Passion

‘Not that inspiring a story, really.’

‘Actually, it is. You recognised your mistakes and did something about them. Most people don’t get that far.’

‘Did you?’

The blunt question startled her. All this intimacy and sharing was great until he turned the tables on her. She withdrew her hand. ‘Maybe, in a manner of speaking.’ She paused, her fingers clenching into an involuntary fist. ‘But it was too late.’

‘Why was it too late, Millie?’ She shook her head. She’d said too much. ‘All these secrets,’ Chase said lightly. ‘You know it only makes you more intriguing, right? Sexier too. And it makes me want to find out what you’re hiding.’

‘Trust me, it’s not sexy. Or intriguing. It’s just...’ She let out a breath. ‘Sad. In a lot of different ways. And the reason I don’t want to tell you is because you’ll look at me differently.’

‘Would that be a bad thing?’

‘Yes, it would.’ She liked the way Chase teased her. Riled her. Yes, he made her uncomfortable, but he also made her feel real and alive. He didn’t tiptoe around her feelings, didn’t tinge every smile with pity or uncertainty. Didn’t look at her like she was a walking tragedy.

The way everyone else did.

Maybe that was what had attracted her to him in the first place—the fact that he didn’t really know her at all. And yet, Millie had to acknowledge, he did know her. The real her. He just didn’t know what had happened in her life.

And she liked it that way.

Yet how could he really know her, without knowing that?

Tired of the tangle of her thoughts, she rose from the table. ‘Didn’t you say something about a movie?’

Fifteen minutes later, after friendly bickering about whether to see an action flick or worthy drama, they settled on a DVD. Chase sat down on the sofa and before Millie could debate where to sit he pulled her down next to him, fit her snugly next to him and draped his arm around her shoulders. Millie tensed for just a second and then relaxed into Chase’s easy embrace. Why was she fighting this? The weight of his arm and the solid strength of his body felt good.

She tried to pay attention to the movie—the worthy drama she had insisted upon—but she was so tired that her eyelids were drooping halfway through. She must have dozed off, for some time later she stirred to find herself being scooped up in Chase’s arms.

‘I can’t believe I sat through something with subtitles so you could fall asleep on me,’ Chase said, and there was so much affection in his voice that Millie curled naturally into the warmth of him, putting her arms around his neck.

‘Time for bed, Scary,’ he muttered, and she heard a catch in his voice. As he carried her through the villa to the bedroom in the back, Millie had the sleepy, hazy thought that there was nowhere else she’d rather be. In Chase’s house. In Chase’s arms. Going to Chase’s bed.

CHAPTER SEVEN

MILLIE woke early, just as dawn was sliding its first pale fingers across the floor. She always woke early; quarter to five was usual. Yet, instead of bolting upright and practically sprinting to the shower, she woke slowly, languorously, stretching before she rolled over, propping herself up on one elbow to gaze at Chase.

He was fast asleep, his hair rumpled, his breathing slow and even. He looked gorgeous, and since he was asleep she let herself study him: the strong, stubbly angle of his jaw; the sweep of golden-brown lashes against his cheek. His lips were lush and full, his nose straight. The dawn light caught the golden glints in his close-cropped hair. Her gaze slid lower. He’d taken off his shirt. She’d seen his chest already, of course. He’d practically been shirtless the whole time she’d known him. Yet now she could study the perfect, muscled form; the sprinkling of dark-brown hair that veed lower, broad shoulders tapering to lean hips. The sheet was rucked about those hips, and she couldn’t tell what he was wearing underneath. Dared she peek?

‘Boxers, Scary.’

Her gaze flew back to his face. He was blinking sleep from his eyes and giving her the slowest, sexiest smile Millie had ever seen. Her heart juddered in her chest but she didn’t try to dissemble.

‘I was wondering. You seem like the type to sleep in the buff.’

‘Nope, I’m strictly a boxers man. Sleeping naked can create all sorts of awkward situations, like when your cleaning lady arrives a bit earlier than you expected.’

Her mouth curved. ‘You seem to have experienced a lot of awkward situations.’

‘It certainly makes life a bit more interesting.’

‘I’ll take your word on it.’

He reached out and touched her hair, his fingers threading through it. ‘Your hair’s not so scary when you’ve slept on it.’

‘It’s probably a mess.’

‘I like it.’ He tucked a strand behind her ear, then trailed his fingers along her cheek before resting his thumb on the fullness of her lower lip. ‘Those worry marks look a little better.’

‘Do they?’ Her heart had started the slow, thudding beat of expectation. They were both in a bed. Nearly naked. Had Chase removed her dress last night? She couldn’t remember, but she was wearing one of his tee-shirts. And nothing underneath.

Surely now...?

‘As enticing a prospect as that is, I think we’ll have breakfast first,’ Chase said, and Millie let out a huff of breath.

‘Stop reading my mind.’

‘It’s too easy. Every thought is reflected in your eyes.’

‘Not every thought,’ Millie objected. She knew she had some secrets and she wanted to keep it that way.

Didn’t she?

‘More than you think,’ Chase said softly, and he drew her towards him for a lingering kiss. It was the kind of kiss you had after you made love, slow and sated. It didn’t have the urgency she expected, that she felt. Because today was day three of her week’s holiday and since she’d met Chase time had started slipping by all too fast.

‘Soon,’ Chase murmured against her lips and she groaned.

‘Stop that.’

‘Actually, I think you kind of like it.’

She didn’t answer, because she knew he was right, even if the way he read her so easily was seriously annoying. She liked being known. ‘What are we doing today?’ she asked as she followed him out of the bedroom into the kitchen. Sunlight poured through the picture windows and Chase, still only wearing boxers, was reaching for the coffee grinder. Within seconds the wonderful aroma of freshly ground beans was wafting through the air.

‘I thought you could decide that,’ he said as he poured the ground beans into the coffee maker.

‘Me?’

‘Yes, you. You’re not just along for the ride, you know.’

‘I sort of thought I was. Your terms, remember?’

‘Exactly. And my terms state that today you decide what we do. Of course, I have the right to veto any and all suggestions.’

‘Oh, I see. Thanks for making that clear.’

‘No problem.’

What did she want to do today? As Chase got out fresh melon and papaya and began slicing both, Millie considered. What did she want to do with Chase?

‘I want to paint you.’

He paused, a mug in each hand, eyebrow arched. ‘Too bad your paints are in the rubbish bin, then.’

‘I can draw you,’ Millie said firmly, surprised by how certain she felt. ‘I brought charcoals too. They’re in my suitcase.’

‘So you’ve changed your mind about the painting thing?’

‘Technically I won’t be painting.’

‘You are such a literalist.’

‘Yes,’ Millie said quietly, and it felt like a confession. ‘I’ve changed my mind.’

Chase stared at her long and hard, and the moment unfurled, stretched between them into something that pulsed with both life and hope.