‘Seems to be.’ He sounded insouciant, yet deliberately so. He was hiding something, Millie thought. She’d tried to strike that note of breeziness too many times not to recognise its falseness.
‘So are we actually going to eat?’ He hadn’t pressed her, so she wouldn’t press him. Another deal, this one silently made.
‘Your wish is my command.’
Within seconds a waiter appeared at the table with a tray of food. Millie watched as he ladled freshly grilled snapper in lime juice and coconut rice on her plate. It smelled heavenly.
She waited until he’d served Chase and departed once more before saying dryly, ‘Nice service. Being one of the Bryant boys has its perks, it seems.’
‘Sometimes.’ Again that even tone.
‘Are you staying at the resort?’
‘I have my own villa.’ He stressed the ‘own’ only a little, but Millie guessed it was a sore point. Had he worked for what he had? He was probably too proud to tell her. She wouldn’t ask.
She took a bite of her fish. It tasted heavenly too, an explosion of tart and tender on her tongue. She swallowed and saw Chase looking at her. Just looking, no deliberate, heavy-lidded languor, and yet she felt her body respond, like an antenna tuned to some cerebral frequency. Everything jumped to alert, came alive.
It had been so long.
She took another bite.
‘So why are you on holiday, Millie?’
Why did the way he said her name sound intimate? She swallowed the fish. ‘Doctor’s orders.’
‘Really?’
‘Well, no. Boss’s. I haven’t taken any holiday in a while.’ ‘How long?’
That bite of fish seemed to lodge in her chest, its exquisite tenderness now as tough as old leather. Finally, with an audible and embarrassing gulp, she managed, ‘Two years.’
Chase cocked his head and continued just looking. How much did he see? ‘That’s a long time,’ he finally said, and she nodded.
‘So he told me.’
‘But you didn’t want to take any holiday?’
‘It’s obvious, I suppose.’
‘Pretty much.’
She stabbed a bit of rice with her fork. ‘I like to work.’
‘So are you a hedge-fund manager?’
‘Got it in one.’
‘And you like it?’
Instinctively ‘of course I do’ rose to her lips, yet somehow the words didn’t come. She couldn’t get them out, as if someone had pressed a hand over her mouth and kept her from speaking. So she just stared and swallowed and felt herself flush.
Why had he even asked? she wondered irritably. Obviously she liked it, since she worked so hard.
‘I see,’ Chase said quietly, knowingly, and a sudden, blinding fury rose up in her, obliterating any remaining sense and opening her mouth.
‘You don’t see anything.’ She sounded savage. Incensed. And, even worse, she was. Why did this stupid man make her feel so much? Reveal so much?
‘Maybe not,’ Chase agreed. He didn’t sound riled in the least. Millie let out a shuddering breath. This date had been such a bad idea.
‘OK, now it’s your turn.’
She blinked. ‘What?’
‘You get to ask me a personal question. Only fair, right?’
Another blink. She hadn’t expected that. ‘Why do you hate being one of the Bryants?’
Now he blinked. ‘Hate is a strong word.’
‘So it is.’
‘I never said I hated it.’
‘You didn’t need to.’ She took a sip of water, her hand steady, her breath thankfully even. ‘You’re not the only one who can read people, you know.’
‘You can read me?’ Chase leaned forward, his eyes glinting in the candlelight. She saw the golden-brown stubble on his jaw, could almost feel its sandpaper roughness under her fingers. She breathed in the scent of him, part musk, part sun, pure male. ‘What am I thinking now?’ he asked, a steely, softly worded challenge. Millie didn’t dare answer.
She knew what she was thinking. She was thinking about taking that hard jaw between her hands and angling her lips over his. His lips would be soft but firm, commanding and drawing deep from her. And she would give, she would surrender that long-held part of herself in just one kiss. She knew it, felt it bone-deep, soul-deep, which was ridiculous, because she barely knew this man. Yet in the space of an hour or two he’d drawn more from her than anyone had since her husband’s death, or even before. He’d seen more, glimpsed her sadness and subterfuge like no one else could or had. Not even the parents who adored her, the sister she called a best friend. No one had seen through her smoke and mirrors. No one but Chase.
And he was a stranger.
A stranger who could kiss her quite senseless.
‘I don’t know what you’re thinking,’ she said and looked away.
Chase laughed softly, no more than an exhalation of breath. ‘Coward.’
And yes, maybe she was a coward, but then he was too. Because Millie knew the only reason Chase had turned provocative on her was because he didn’t want to answer her question about his family.
She pushed her plate away, her appetite gone even though her meal was only half-finished. ‘How about that walk on the beach?’
He arched an eyebrow. ‘You’re done?’
She was so done. The sooner she ended this evening, the better. The only reason she wasn’t bailing on the walk was her pride. Even now, when she felt uncomfortable, exposed and even angry, she was determined to handle this. Handle him. ‘It was delicious,’ she said. ‘But I’ve had enough.’
‘No pun intended, I’m sure.’
She curved her lips into a smile. ‘You can read into that whatever you like.’
‘All right, Millie,’ Chase said, uncoiling from his chair like a lazy serpent about to strike. ‘Let’s walk.’
He reached for her hand and unthinkingly, stupidly, Millie let him take it.
As soon as his fingers wrapped over hers, she felt that explosion inside her again and she knew she was lost.
CHAPTER THREE
CHASE felt Millie’s fingers tense in his even as a buzz travelled all the way up his arm. Her fingers felt fragile, slender bone encased in tender skin. A sudden need to protect her rose in him, a caveman’s howl. Clearly it was some kind of evolutionary instinct, because if there was one woman who didn’t need protecting, it was Camilla Lang.
He thought she might jerk her hand away from his, and he was pretty sure she wanted to, but she didn’t. Didn’t want to show weakness, most likely. He smiled and took full advantage, tightening his hold, drawing her close. She tensed some more.
This woman was prickly. And Chase had a sneaking suspicion she had issues, definitely with a capital I. Bad relationship or broken heart; maybe something darker and more difficult. Who knew? He sure as hell didn’t want to. Didn’t he have enough to deal with, with his own issues? Those had a capital I too. And he had no intention of sharing them with Millie.
Even so he drew her from the table, still holding her hand, and away from the terrace, down the lift, through