Personal Relations. HEATHER MACALLISTER

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Personal Relations - HEATHER  MACALLISTER

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face, which pretty much changed him from a shoo-in for jerk of the century—to…something else.

      He dropped his head and shook it slightly, then looked skyward before beaming that smile her way again.

      Brooke felt its impact like a punch to her stomach. She was still in the process of realigning her opinion of him and didn’t have any attractive-man filters in place.

      Oh, boy.

      Trying to regroup, she blurted out, “But if you’re against them marrying—and I’m including any living-together arrangement—then why did you tell them they could live with you?”

      “I never—oh, yeah.” He winced. “Jeff had asked me to help him find a job so he could support the little gold—” Chase broke off abruptly. “No offense.”

      “None taken.” Which wasn’t strictly true, but she was feeling generous. Relief could do that to a person.

      “He wanted a job right away so he could earn the apartment deposit. I want him concentrating on his grades, not staying up half the night bagging groceries, so I said they could live with me.”

      Brooke nodded. “I probably would have said the same thing.”

      He turned down the wattage on his smile. “So what was with the get-a-big-diamond advice?”

      It was Brooke’s turn to look sheepish. “I hoped that Jeff would be shocked at how much they cost. I thought maybe it might start an argument—or at least a discussion. Money is the number one topic couples argue about. I was just buying time until I could talk with you.”

      The warmth was back in his expression. Unfortunately, she was feeling a little—okay, a lot of—warmth of her own.

      He drew a deep breath. “This calls for a drink. And I’m talking all the caffeine and sugar. The full monty.”

      He came from behind the desk and headed toward a worktable that had a wooden file cabinet beneath it.

      Except as she quickly saw, it wasn’t a file cabinet but a small refrigerator filled with cans and bottles.

      “Ohh…” She closed her eyes. “You wouldn’t happen to have a Dr Pepper in there, would you?”

      “A woman after my own heart.”

      Or maybe not. There was an awkward silence during which Chase sorted through the selections in the little refrigerator and they ignored any inflammatory interpretations of what he’d said.

      “The vending machines on this floor only carry Coke, so I’ve got my own private stash.” He squatted down and dug way in the back, past bottles of water and diet sodas until he pulled out a single can of Dr Pepper.

      “Here it is.” He held out the can as though it were a bottle of vintage burgundy.

      Brooke’s mouth watered in anticipation. “You only have one?”

      “Yeah. It’s for emergencies. We’ll have to split it.” He reached for two glasses emblazoned with a gold “$10,000,000 Seller” emblem, and removed the ice tray from the tiny freezer compartment.

      “Oh, I couldn’t…you take it. I’ll have a can of whatever else you’ve got in there.”

      “No way. We both deserve it.” He popped the top and Brooke heard a fizz as the liquid was poured over ice. “It’s been one of those days.”

      Gesturing for her to take one of the two club swivel chairs on her right, he pulled one away from the worktable with his foot and handed her the drink.

      “To our new alliance.” Chase clinked his glass to hers, then downed half the drink in a single swallow. “Oh, that hit the spot.”

      “You can say that again.” Brooke closed her eyes and felt the sugar and caffeine jack up her pulse. Sure she’d pay with a sugar low later, but right now, she didn’t care.

      “So…Brooke is it?”

      She nodded.

      “I’m really sorry for—”

      Brooke stopped him by vigorously waving her hands. “No—please. Let’s just start over.”

      He grinned. “I like your style.”

      Brooke hadn’t been conscious of having a style. She’d just wanted to put the whole ugly confrontation behind them.

      “So what do you do, Brooke?” Chase eased back in the chair, probably unaware that his shirt was stretched across his chest in a way that…in a way she normally didn’t notice on a man.

      In a way she definitely shouldn’t be noticing on Chase. But…well, she did. She was a woman, even though she hadn’t been acting like one for the past several years, and he was…waiting for an answer to his question. “I work for Haldutton in the personnel department.”

      “On Travis, or are you at The Woodlands location?”

      “Travis.”

      “The Travis building is one of the properties we manage.”

      He gulped more of his drink, making Brooke feel guilty that she’d taken half of it. But this was like smoking the peace pipe after treaty negotiations with the enemy. It would have been rude to refuse the gesture.

      “I cannot tell you how relieved I am that we’re on the same page here.” He slid a sideways glance at her. “We are aren’t we?”

      “If you’re on the they’d-better-get-their-education-first page, then we are.”

      “I am. Just verifying.” He set his glass on the laminated tabletop. “Jeff is living with me until he finishes high school. He’s a senior now and doesn’t know what he wants to do with himself. Which doesn’t particularly matter since I know what he should do.”

      To an outsider, that should have sounded unbelievably arrogant, but Brooke not only understood, she felt exactly the same way about Courtney.

      “I’ve spent months going through the college admissions drill with him and when he started talking marriage—marriage—I panicked,” Chase admitted with disarming candor.

      “So did I.” A soul mate. The man was her soul mate. He was going through the same thing with his stepbrother that she was going through with Courtney. He knew.

      “I mean, I pulled some serious strings to get him into Baylor. It’s a good, steady school. Not a party school. Jeff doesn’t need an excuse to party.”

      “Oh, I know. I feel the same way about Courtney.” The words babbled out. She hadn’t met anyone else responsible for a sibling—like a parent, but not a parent—and being able to talk with him was such a relief. “The thing is, I’ve been so frustrated because she wouldn’t fill out the applications. I had to do it.”

      “I know! What is up with that?”

      “Well, Courtney claims she doesn’t want to go to college. She says she wants to be an actress and

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