Bad Boy (An Indecent Proposal)(17)

I thought you were really into me.

I thought what we had was real.

“You really fucking hurt me,” I said instead, speaking out the truth before I could stop it.

The words lingered in the air, heavy, real.

He glanced down at his hands, guilt flashing across his face. And suddenly his whole body tensed. “For what it’s worth, I really like you, Laurie. And…” He leaned forward and grabbed my hand, his eyes on me, begging me to understand a message only he knew. “…if things were different, if I didn’t have to do what I’ve done, I would have asked you out.”

If things were different, if I didn’t have to do what I’ve done…

I laughed, his words echoing in my mind.

I eyed his fingers on mine, caressing my skin, and fought the sudden urge to pull back.

“So let me see if I understand,” I whispered. “You married me for my inheritance.”

“Yes,” he said cautiously. “But I also like you.” He let the words linger in the air. “If things were different, I would still want to date you.”

“Why?” I asked, my voice breathless.

“Simply because. Do you need a reason for it?”

My breath hitched as I regarded him. The wind blew my hair into my face, and I pushed the strand behind my ear. His eyes softened.

“What? Is that really so hard to believe that I might be developing feelings for you?” Chase asked.

There, he had just said it. All of a sudden, my world began to spin.

“I don’t know.” I swallowed. “It’s hard to believe. I’ve been… I don’t think—”

God, what was happening to me?

I couldn’t finish sentences whenever he was around.

“Laurie.” He breathed out an impatient sigh. “You’re beautiful. Why is it hard to believe that I like you?”

Because I’m nothing like you.

“I’m not confident. I’m not…” I struggled for words.

Perfect.

Godlike.

God, I had to stop before it got out of control. There was something about his penetrating stare that threw me off. Or maybe it was his touch—gently and warm, and completely out of place—that my whirling thoughts couldn’t formulate one single sentence. Whatever it was, it had to stop.

Withdrawing my hand from him, I took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

“You don’t have to be confident,” he replied. “I like you for who you are.”

“Why did you marry me?” I asked. My question was meant to be casual. Instead, it came out like an accusation.

There was a long pause.

“Because I had to,” he said at last.

There was something in his voice: hope that I would believe him. Hope that I would forgive him even though his words were the painful beginning of a longer story. I scanned his face and saw the despair etched in his features.

“Is it because of the money?” I asked.

“No.” He shook his head, his frown deepening, and I knew, whatever the answer, whatever explanation he would give me, I wouldn’t like the truth. And he knew it. He knew I knew, judging from the way he couldn’t even look me straight in my eyes, and kept delaying the inevitable.

Everything inside me burned with the knowledge that if he had wanted, he could have disclosed his reasons back at the hotel.

That he didn’t, that he couldn’t do it now, didn’t just bother me.

It confirmed to me that whatever he had to say was going to be difficult—for both of us.

Heck, I wasn’t sure I was ready to hear it.

The entire situation was worse than facing my stepfather.

It was splitting me into two.

“I wish things could be different,” he said and turned his attention to the ocean. I did the same as I let go of my thoughts and him.

Sitting so close to the railing overlooking the shore, the sight was beautiful. The blue water stood in contrast to the sand, my dark feelings and the despair that seemed to rise within me, reminding me that this was only a fleeting moment in our lives.

Everything felt surreal—the sparkling water, the warm sun on our faces, the excited chatter all around us. For a moment, it felt as though it wasn’t my life, but someone else’s.

“It doesn’t matter anymore. I’m—” My words were interrupted by a waitress stopping at our table.

“Quiere algo para beber?” the waitress asked.

I looked into her friendly face, ready to ask whether she could speak English. But Chase replied.

“You can speak Spanish?” I asked after she left.

“I wish I were fluent,” he said. “But I only throw in bits of phrases here and there to impress.”

As if he needed to impress when his body already did the work for him.

“Have you been here before?” I asked warily.

“No.” He leaned forward, his eyes watching me with renewed interest. “What was it that you wanted to say before you were interrupted? You said that it doesn’t matter anymore.”

He had been listening. I didn’t expect that. “I can’t remember.”

It was a lie.

But he couldn’t know the truth.

It doesn’t matter anymore. I’m already in love with you.

Chase was a weakness I couldn’t have in my life. My feelings for him would always make me an easy target.

I might be gullible, but I wasn’t weak. Before I could change the topic, the waitress arrived with several plates. As she spread out the varied delicacies and arranged the plates in what seemed to be a specific order, I stared in surprise at the array of food.

I raised my brows at Chase and he smiled, the skin around his eyes crinkling.

“I took the liberty to order and paid for it before we came,” he clarified. “This place can be quite busy. I didn’t want to keep you waiting.”

“You didn’t have to,” I said and helped myself to a plate.

“It was my pleasure. Can’t afford to disappoint my wife. What are you having?”

His wife.

As if.

His words had me blushing, so I scanned the seafood. There was so much of everything, it looked like someone had prepared an entire dinner table for a dinner party rather than for just the two of us.

Everything looked so delicious I didn’t know where to start.

“No idea. Maybe everything?” I said.

“Try this.” He picked up a shrimp taco and held it up to my mouth. “It’s spicy.”

I laughed. “My stomach won’t tolerate it.”

“The taste is worth the stomach pain.”

I laughed again, realizing he acted as if nothing had happened between us, even though everything had changed. I stared at him, my heart plummeting as I became aware of how intimate the entire situation was—and how close he had come to tricking my mind into thinking that we could go on with our lives, never talking about what happened.

“Fine. But you’ll wish you had tried it,” he said.

My laugh died on my lips as I watched Chase withdraw his hand and bite into the taco. He took a napkin and wiped off his hands, nodding appreciatively.

“Chase.” I sighed. “Why are you doing this?”

“What? Taking you out for lunch?” he asked. “I’m treating you nicely. It’s the least I can do for you after…” he trailed off, leaving the rest unspoken.

“I meant this.” I motioned to the air between us. “Acting like nothing happened.”

He shrugged. “I’m making a fresh start.”

I let the thought sink in for a moment. Grabbing a fork, I started to pop food into my mouth, barely registering the taste.

“You haven’t even started to explain your motives, and you already expect me to give you a second chance?” I asked casually. “Wake up, Chase. It’s not going to happen. It won’t work out.”

“It won’t work out that I spill my motives, or it won’t work out between us?”

Argh.

What was it with this man and his inability to keep a conversation on track?

“Both, obviously,” I said dryly.

“I was just asking,” he said.

“I thought it was all pretty clear.”

“Not to me.” He moved his chair to sit closer to me. “You mind?”

I did.

Very much.

The last thing I needed from him was to touch me. To fool me. To remind me that things weren’t over—not in my heart anyway.

“Go ahead.” I shrugged, as though his proximity didn’t faze me.

“I didn’t plan this,” he started. “I didn’t plan to like you, Laurie. You see, in my line of work, you have to be hard and unattached.”

“Work?” I asked slowly, my pulse speeding up. “What line of work are we talking about?”

God, my heart was beating real hard. I popped another shrimp into my mouth as I considered his words.

Hard and unattached.

Jude already said that Chase was no actor, so what was he?

Somehow, I couldn’t imagine Chase being anything but an actor. Even a porn star would do. Or maybe he was a criminal who had to stay away from all emotional entanglements.

On a second thought, he probably was a crook, considering…

“Law,” he said casually, interrupting my thoughts.

My breath hitched, and suddenly I had the terrible vision of me choking on a shrimp and that he’d have to perform the Heimlich while everyone was watching, maybe even cheering for him. And then he’d save my life, and I’d owe him for all eternity.