Page 8 of Chasin’s Surrender

Chasin’s jaw tightened, and it proved he was a son of a bitch when he didn’t bother trying to shove away the images of those thighs pressed tight against his head, or her long, sexy legs wrapped around his hips. He didn’t bother because he knew from the last seven days that when the memories started to invade his thoughts, there was no use trying to stop it. They’d push in like an assault team and wouldn’t quit until he could think of nothing else but her.

Then the golden eyes he wanted to forget but couldn’t snapped to his. Genevieve reared back, lost her balance, and stumbled. Nixon’s hand shot out and he caught her by the bicep. Something ugly curled in Chasin’s stomach. Something that felt like jealousy—an emotion he had no right to feel.

The woman wasn’t his and never would be.

What was wrong with him?

Chasin knew the answer to that—not only was the woman sex on legs, but he’d grown soft. He’d watched his friends find women and fall ass over tea kettle in love. He’d thought that shit was like magic and it would somehow happen to him. Then when he’d pulled Genevieve from the river, he’d thought he’d been struck by lightning and his dream woman had literally fallen right in front of him. All he needed to do was rescue her from the chilly water and they’d drive off into the sunset.

“Chasin?” she whispered.

Fuck him.

That voice gutted him.

Hurt mingled with irritation—he’d been played. How was it possible for her to be under his skin in a way no other woman ever had been? Hell, yesterday he’d had to change the radio station twice because he could swear the woman singing sounded just like Genevieve.

“Why are you here?”

Nixon’s hand had fallen away but he was still standing close. As irrational as it was, Chasin wanted to demand that his friend step away from Genevieve, even if Nixon was happily married and was not the type of man to stray.

“Is everything okay?” a woman asked.

Chasin’s gaze slid to the woman standing next to Genevieve long enough to note she was short and blonde. Not giving her anymore of his attention, Chasin’s eyes went back to the sexy brunette he couldn’t stop thinking about.

“Yeah. Everything’s fine, Bobby.”

Bobby.

I swear I’m being careful. It’s only a few days, Bobby, then you’ll be here.

The air around him turned stifling, his heart pounded against his ribs, and suddenly Chasin couldn’t swallow past the lump in his throat. Genevieve was staring at him with a mixture of hurt and triumph. She knew he knew he’d fucked up.

Colossal, huge, biggest fuck-up of his life. He’d jumped to conclusions and screwed up royally. Had he taken a minute and asked, she would’ve explained, he knew she would’ve. The time they’d spent together, she’d been open.

If only he hadn’t been such a dick.

“Let’s head in.” Nixon motioned to the conference room.

Genevieve hesitantly stepped into the room. Bobby, the blonde woman followed, and Alec was next. Nixon caught Chasin’s attention before he could walk in.

“You know her?”

“Yep.”

“We gonna have a problem?”

“Probably.”

“You fuck her?” Nixon’s voice had dropped to a whisper.

“Yep.”

“Christ. We’ll talk after the meeting.”

No, they wouldn’t. Chasin wasn’t staying after they were done—he was following Genevieve out the door and he’d explain.

Chasin and Nix had barely gotten into the room when Bobby launched in. “Thank you for seeing us on such short notice. Melissa, Vivi’s manager, tells us you guys are the best and we’re fortunate you’re willing to fit us in. Talk about dumb luck, Vivi coming here with you literally three blocks up the road. I thought she was nuts coming out to the boonies. But damn, now I’m grateful.”