“Nice to see you, Sam.”
“Are you back for good?”
“I’m working on something at night. I’m not sure how much I’ll be in.”
“Oh? A new product?”
Years of dating had taught me the art of avoidance when being pinned down. “Have you found someone for the vacant IT director position yet?”
“I have a few candidates. But I’ve been busy…trying to fill an open marketing position.”
She could open the door all she wanted. I wasn’t walking in. Not today.
“Good. Glad to hear it. Not paying you to sit on your ass all day.”
“I can’t believe I’m going to say this, but I like obnoxious, sober Chase better than drunk, nice Chase.”
We talked for another ten minutes. Sam filled me in on some personnel stuff and rates she was negotiating with a new insurance carrier. When my phone buzzed on my desk, I caught the time. I was going to be late to Reese’s if I didn’t get moving. Surprising me, Sam took the hint when I started to shut down my computer and pack up some files. I’d assumed she was going to take another run at my personal life.
“Well, I’ll let you go.”
“Thanks, Sam. I’m kind of in a rush to get out of here.”
She took a few steps toward the door and then turned back. “Oh. One other thing.”
Here it comes. “What’s that?”
“Pink Cosmetics wants a reference on a former employee. They asked to speak to you personally. John Boothe from Canning and Canning is the VP now. Remember him?”
“I do. Good guy. Sure, I’ll give him a call.”
“I’ll text you the number.”
“Thanks. They’re in Chicago, right?”
“Yes. Downtown.”
“Who left New York and relocated to Chicago?”
“No one…yet.”
We locked eyes. Mine asked the question, even though I already knew the answer.
***
That night, I sat on the steps across the street from Reese’s apartment. The warm sun from a late Indian summer day was gone, but the heat was still oppressive. It was humid, hot as hell, and my heart was beating rapidly. Before today, I’d been wallowing in self-pity and guilt, but ever since Sam told me Reese was considering leaving New York for a job, a new emotion had taken over: fear.#p#分页标题#e#
I hated it. I’d considered stopping at the liquor store on the way here to soothe my anxiety. But there was no way I was drinking on the job. Even if it was my own insane mission I’d created, and Reese didn’t want me here anymore.
It was about an hour into my shift when a man who looked familiar approached her building and went inside. It took a minute for me to place where I knew him from. My fists balled when I remembered he was the guy who’d been in her apartment the night the alarm went off.
A second date.
I knew how my second dates always ended.
Fuck.
Fuck.
Fuck.
Fifteen minutes later, the two of them emerged from the building. Reese wore a halter-top dress with a little sweater over it and high-heeled sandals. Her hair was down, and the humidity made it fuller and sexier. She’d never looked more beautiful. Stopping as they reached the sidewalk, Reese lifted her hand and fanned her face. It was hot as hell. The ache in my chest grew almost unbearable when she slipped the tiny sweater off, revealing a healthy amount of cleavage and an almost completely open back.
Beads of sweat dripped from my brow as I watched it all play out in front of me. I was in my own private hell. He stood behind her and took the sweater from her arms. My heart thudded away, and it was all I could do to not run over and tell him to get his fucking hands off of her. Yet I sat and did nothing but grind a layer of enamel off my teeth.
I have no right to stop her from doing anything anymore. Although it felt like he was touching something of mine. Something I very much had rights to.
Watching them walk down the street, I stayed frozen on the step until they reached the corner. Then I grumbled a string of curses and got up to follow them. New duties added to my security detail. Apparently I was taking this stalking shit pretty damn seriously.
I walked on the other side of the street for four blocks, keeping a safe distance behind them as I focused on their body language. They walked closely, like two people who had a certain comfort level with each other, yet they didn’t hold hands or touch. When they strolled into a small Italian restaurant, I thought I’d have to wait around for an hour or two before the continuation of the show. Lucky for me, the hostess sat them right in front of the picture window.
After a few minutes, I wasn’t sure if it was a blessing or a curse that I would have to watch them all night. Regardless, I found myself a doorway diagonally across the street. It concealed me but still allowed for comfortable viewing.