An Indecent Proposal(20)

What drove me away hadn’t been a lover. No relationship or unrequited love. It had been much deeper than that. Much closer to my heart, and consequently much more painful. Dangerous. Precarious. Every step of my path had been carefully planned—the results of endless weighing up sides and taking no risks.

“What made you leave?” I asked.

“The same as you,” Chase said. “I knew there was a world out there. I had glimpsed it through the windows of my parents’ tour bus, and I wanted a piece of it. I felt a need to do something unexpected and maybe even find my own place in life along the way.”

“So, no dirty secret?” I teased.

“I’m afraid not,” he said seriously.

“You wanted to find yourself, then.”

“And define myself.” He nodded, deep in thought. “My parents never taught me who I was. It was life that showed me that. It helped me find what I needed.”

For the second time something passed between us. I could feel it in the air. Hear it in the soft chirping of insects. Smell it in the breeze carrying the scent of ripe oranges and something else. Chase. His cologne intermingled with the warmth emanating from him.

I gulped down a mouthful of oxygen, and suddenly the air was too thick, choking me, bringing me to a point where my head felt dizzy and the cave of my mouth was too parched to speak.

“I’ve got to go,” I croaked, and had risen to my feet when my feet gave away beneath me. My fingers wrapped around the back of the chair for support, but Chase was faster. One arm wrapped around my waist and he pulled me against him, making the dizzy spell worse.

“Whoa. Sit down.” His deep voice sent a pulsating shiver through me as he moved the chairs and the table away from the sun and then helped me back into my seat. “It’s the damn heat. It would knock everyone down.”

“I’m okay,” I whispered, and even managed a half-smile, which was meant to infuse enough confidence in him that he’d let me go, even though every part of my body longed to be touched. Away from the merciless sun, I started to feel better.

“Can I get you some cold water?” Chase asked, brushing my hair away from my sweat-covered face. I grimaced, realizing it probably wasn’t a pretty sight.

“No. I’ll be fine. But thanks.”

“You sure?” He sounded doubtful. His brows drew together as he lifted my chin to meet his worried gaze.

“Did you actually eat anything today?”

I shook my head, barely able to breathe with him so close. Our lips were inches away—a distance easily closed in a heartbeat. My pulse picked up in speed as I fought the urge to press my mouth against his just to see whether he tasted as good as he smelled.

“I’ll make you something.”

Before I could protest, Chase’s hand had released me, and I found myself sitting in the chair, staring after him as he entered the house, leaving the door ajar. That was when I realized he hadn’t invited me in.

I didn’t mean to be prying, but, for some unknown reason, I felt a strong need to discover more about him, about the way he lived, who he was. Craning my neck, I scanned the narrow hall. Apart from two framed pictures on the walls and a rain jacket hanging from a hook, it was empty.

I shielded my eyes against the sun to get a better glimpse of the pictures and realized one of them was of a gate leading up to a beautiful backyard. The rich green foliage and flowers in various colors built a strong contrast to the thin fog that gave the entire setting a haunted allure. The second picture showed a man standing near a sea and holding a big fish from a hook, his facial expression reflecting his pride.

At the sound of approaching footsteps, I turned my head, my eyes focused on the blooming orange trees.

From the corner of my eye, I watched him put down a large bamboo plate with fresh bread and cheese, red grapes, and freshly sliced watermelon. To my dismay, he pulled his chair to mine and sat down so close our thighs touched. I regarded him as he began to pile cheese on a thin slice of bread, silently urging me to take a bite.

The air around us thickened again with tension and anticipation. This kind of closeness was exactly what I had tried to avoid. Away from civilization, his gesture, coupled with sitting so close to him and sharing the same plate, felt awfully intimate, and even more so when he watched me take a bite. Aware of his intense gaze, my throat constricted, and I forced myself to swallow slowly so I wouldn’t choke.

I shifted in my seat, prying my leg off his in the process. If he noticed, he didn’t say anything. Instead, he took a bite of his bread and popped a grape into his mouth, signaling me to do the same. I held up my hand and shook my head, smiling weakly as I tried hard to control my breathing. My stomach growled. I knew it was hunger, and something else.