didn’t look at him as she did it, but she felt herself flush. She was just being practical, but she could see how it might seem kind of … severe.
‘You are one scary lady.’
She glanced at him, eyebrows raised, everything prickling. ‘Are you still talking about my hair?’
‘The whole package. But don’t worry, I like it.’ He grinned and she glared.
‘I wasn’t worried.’
‘The thing I like about you,’ he said as he strolled towards the bar, ‘is you’re so easy to rile.’
Millie had no answer to that one. She was acting touchy, but she felt touchy. She didn’t do beaches, or bars, or dates. She didn’t relax. For the last two years she had done nothing but work, and sunbathing on the beach with a paperback and MP3 player was akin to having her fingernails pulled out one by one. At least that wouldn’t take a whole week.
The man—she realised she didn’t even know his name—had led her through the beach-side bar to an artful arrangement of tables right on the sand. Each one was shaded by its own umbrella, with comfortable, cushioned chairs and a perfect view of the sea.
The waiter snapped right to attention, so Millie guessed the man was known around here. Probably a big spender. Trust-fund baby or bond trader? Did it matter?
‘What’s your name?’ she asked as she sat across from him. He was gazing out at the sea with a strangely focused look. The orange streaks were like vivid ribbons across the sky. He snapped his attention back to her.
‘Chase.’
‘Chase.’ She gave a short laugh. ‘Sounds appropriate.’
‘Actually, I don’t generally do much chasing.’ He gave her a slow, oh-so-sexy smile that had annoyance flaring through her even as her toes—and other parts—curled again.
‘Charming, Chase. Do you practise that in the mirror?’
‘Practise what?’
‘Your smile.’
He laughed and leaned back in his chair. ‘Nope, never. But it must be a pretty nice smile, if you think I practise.’ He eyed her consideringly. ‘Although, the more likely possibility is that you just think you I’m an arrogant ass who’s far too full of himself.’
Now she laughed in surprise. She hadn’t expected him to be so honest. ‘And I could probably tell you what you think of me.’
He arched one eyebrow. ‘And that is?’
‘Uptight, prissy know-it-all who doesn’t know how to have a good time.’ As soon as she said the words, she regretted them. This wasn’t a conversation she wanted to have.
‘Actually, I don’t think that.’ He remained relaxed, but his gaze swept over her searchingly, making Millie feel weirdly revealed. ‘Admittedly, on the surface, yes, I see it. Totally, to a tee. But underneath …’ She rolled her eyes, waiting for the come-on. Everything was a chat-up line to a guy like this. ‘You seem sad.’
She tensed mid-eye-roll, her gaze arrowing on him. A little smile played around his mouth, drawing attention to those full, sculpted lips. Lips that were lush enough to belong to a woman, yet still seemed intensely masculine. And it was those lips that had so softly issued that scathing indictment.
You seem sad.
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’ As far as comebacks went, it sucked. And her voice sounded horribly brittle. But Millie didn’t have anything better. Averting her eyes, she slipped out her smart phone and punched in a few numbers. Chase watched her without speaking, yet she felt something from him. Something dark, knowing and totally unexpected.
‘What’s your name?’ he finally asked and, knowing she was being rude, she didn’t look up from her phone.
‘Millie Lang.’ No work emails. Damn.
‘What’s that short for? Millicent? Mildred?’
She finally glanced up, saw him still studying her. ‘Camilla.’
‘Camilla,’ he repeated, savouring the syllables, drawing them out with a sensual consideration that didn’t seem forced or fake. ‘I like it.’ He gestured to her phone. ‘So what’s going on in the real world, Camilla? Your stock portfolio sound? Work managing without you?’
She flushed and put her phone away. She’d just been about to check NASDAQ. For the fifth time today. ‘Everything ship-shape. And please don’t call me Camilla.’
‘You prefer Millie?’
‘Clearly.’
He laughed. ‘This is going to be a fun evening, I can tell.’
Her flush intensified, swept down her body. What a mistake this was—a stupid, stupid mistake. Had she actually thought she could do this—have dinner, have fun, flirt? All ridiculous.
‘Maybe I should just go.’ She half-rose from her chair, but Chase stopped her with one hand on her wrist. The touch of his fingers, long, lean and cool against that tender skin, felt like a bomb going off inside her body. Not just the usual tingle of attraction, the shower of sparks that was your body’s basic reaction to a good-looking guy. No, a bomb. She jerked her hand away, heard her breath come out in a rush. ‘Don’t—’
‘Whoa.’ He held his hands up in front of him. ‘Sorry, my mistake.’ But he didn’t look sorry. He looked like he knew exactly what she’d just experienced. ‘I meant what I said, Millie. It’s going to be a fun evening. I like a challenge.’
‘Oh, please.’ His stupid comment made her feel safe. She wanted this Chase to be exactly what she’d thought he was: attractive, arrogant and utterly unthreatening.
Chase grinned. ‘I knew you’d expect me to say that.’ And, just like that, she was back to wondering. Millie snatched up a menu.
‘Shall we order?’
‘Drinks first.’
‘I’ll have a glass of Chardonnay with ice, please.’
‘That sounds about right,’ he murmured and rose from the table. Millie watched him walk to the bar, her gaze glued to his easy, long-limbed stride. Yes, she was staring at his butt. He looked good in board shorts.
By sheer force of will she dragged her gaze away from him and stared down at her phone. Why couldn’t she have one work crisis? She’d had a dozen a day when she was in the office. Of course she knew why; she just didn’t like it. Jack had insisted she take a week’s holiday with no interruptions or furtive tele-commuting. She hadn’t taken any in two years, and new company policy—supposedly for the health of its employees—demanded that you use at least half of your paid leave in one year.
What a ridiculous policy.
She wanted to work. She’d been working twelve-, fourteen- and sometimes even sixteen-hour days for two years and screeching to a halt to come here was making
