Pink Slips and Glass Slippers (2 page)

“Fine,” she rubbed her nose.

“Good. Give it time. In six months, you’re gonna be happy you did. I’m proud of you.”

As Brooke hung up, she wondered what Shane would be like as her father. She loved her own daddy but Shane’s fatherly advice always resonated inside. At times, the lawyer in Weston Ingram, Esq. smothered her. Once again, Brooke sensed Shane was correct. But she wondered if she could last six days, let alone six months. Why do life coaches always piece life into six-month quadrants? Do they manage their own lives in half-year increments? I wonder if he drives his wife nuts?

Discussing Tanner usually stung inside. But not today.

Chapter 2

Chase drifted into a dreamy state, recalling the moment he noticed Brooke. His heart raced again as he visualized her luscious lips and mesmerizing big blue eyes, framed by long flowing blonde hair. And her body…her body could stop a freight train. A real-life doll—and with a brain. She had an alluring, yet carefree air about her. He wanted her to stand up and turn around as he introduced her.

After the meeting ended, he pretended to have to speak to one of his managers so he could catch her figure as she sauntered out the door.

He prided himself on his level-headedness—the proverbial voice of reason at the company he ran. Today, however, his equilibrium felt like a full moon fever on steroids. Throughout the meeting, he had a difficult time concentrating, unable to keep his eyes off her. He kept thinking, why couldn’t I find someone like Brooke? My life would be so different.

The BMW revved and yanked him out of his dream. It screamed like his private plane before takeoff. Uh oh. Chase’s eyes widened at the dashboard. He lunged for the stick. After a growl, the engine breathed a sigh of relief. So lost in Brooke, he had missed shifting through second and third gear. His heartbeat raced faster than the tachometer. She was one intriguing and enticing woman.

Why does she have to work for me?
With furrowed brows and eyelashes any woman would kill for, Chase squinted into the rearview mirror, hoping for an answer. The only reply was a radio host bantering about the problem with pro sports. He clicked off the talk noise, but the silence didn’t help. The focused business whiz was smitten. He had reverted back to freshman homeroom, staring at a cute girl. Only now his crush was forbidden.

Pulling into Pharmical’s campus-like office park, he said, “Why does she have to work for me?” Chase said as he slammed his car door with a bit more force than usual.

Chase realized he couldn’t cross the line in this day and age. She was off-limits. He had to be professional—to act like a CEO. But Brooke was even more alluring than Heather had been, and she was a one in a million.

“Duke, Duke, Duke of Earl”—his ringtone—brought him back to earth. Chase answered, “Hello, Oksana.”

“Hello Mr. Allman, I am sorry to bother you…”

“It’s no bother—and stop calling me Mr. Allman—it makes me sound old. Call me Chase. I was just about to call you. Tell my little man I’m sorry I’m running late again, but I’ll be home soon.”

“That is no problem. Take your time. That is not the reason I called.”

“Oh…”

“Mr. Chase, she called twice today and this time, she spoke to me. She asked for Parker.”

“No!”

***

The elevator chimed open and Brooke froze. Chase’s lips curled into that sensational smile. With broad shoulders in sturdy posture, he looked even better than in the boardroom.

“Hello. What a pleasant surprise.” He extended his hand. While reaching her hand forward, her heel caught and launched her forward—right into his chest. Miraculously, she didn’t fall. Instead, he managed to grip her in a bear hug. His fragrance dazzled her nostrils.

“Are you alright?” Chase freed a hand and flipped a switch on the elevator panel. Brooke was impressed he could support her one-hundred-twenty pound frame with one arm.

A rush of embarrassment blended with a sudden flash of pain. “I’m not sure…I think I hurt my ankle…” Her ankle had never fully healed since her running days in college. Judging from the burning sensation, she figured she re-injured it.
Oh great, now I won’t be able to run this weekend.
The realization of missing the Run for the Cure amplified the pain.

“Hold on, I’ve got you. Let’s get you off this elevator. Don’t let go.” Chase clutched her with a lumberjack’s grip and then said, “Put your arm around my shoulder.”

Brooke liked the way that sounded—and the way his strong hands held onto her. Manly, but with a gentle touch. Sliding her fingers across his firm back, she stopped at his muscular shoulder. Uh oh. She gasped as her breast pressed up against him. She wondered if he noticed. Brooke’s heart pounded like a jackhammer.

“Oh my!” Ruth Shelby, Chase’s overprotective administrative assistant, stood open mouthed in front of the elevator door. With a sideways glance, she closed her jaw enough to smirk as she placed her hands on her hips.

“Oh, good, Ruthie, can you help us?” Chase ignored Ruth’s body language and attempted to appear professional. He couldn’t even fool himself, thinking this must look ridiculous. Brooke wanted to shoo her away.

Chase said, “I think she hurt her leg. Here, help me get her to a chair.”

Ruth pinched Brooke’s free elbow and yanked her away from Chase, causing another yet writhing pain. Brooke contemplated kicking Ruth with her good foot.

Chase and Ruth guided her over to a nearby chair. Attempting to lower her with sweaty palms, Chase’s forearm pressed against her breast. His heart thumped as his groin tingled.

“You really should have that X-Rayed,” Chase said as he stared at everything but Brooke’s ankle.

“I can take her,” Ruth announced with a screechy voice that belonged on a corn broom.

“The nearest hospital’s across town. I’m heading that way,” Chase lied.

“Your car’s not big enough.” Ruth’s eyes narrowed as she crossed her arms over her silicone chest. She had been envious of Brooke since the moment she laid eyes on her. She could tell her boss was smitten by this newcomer. The last thing she wanted was to grant this Barbie doll a chance to flirt with her administrative property.

Chase creased his brow, “Well, it’s big enough for me and the passenger seat has the same room.” Brooke wanted to chime in
yeah, yeah, yeah
, but instead remained silent. She didn’t realize her mouth hung open.

“You have a conference call with Marvin Wixfeldt in an hour. I’ll take her.”

“I can take that call on my cell.”

“You’ll lose the connection in a hospital.”

“I want to get out of it anyway. Maybe I can blame the hospital for the lost call. I should take her since I’m responsible for her injury.” Brooke raised her eyebrow.

“Very well. You’re the boss.” Ruth frowned, then spun and strode away.

“Can you stand up?” Brooke loved how Chase’s lips formed. She thought, it’s not fair that he has lashes like that.

“I’m not sure. It’s starting to swell up.”

“Do you want some ice?” Brooke would have loved a frigid painkiller, but didn’t want to invite Ruth back on the scene.

“No, if you help me, I think I can make it to your car.”

Chase wiped his hand on the side of his fitted trousers and then reached out. Brooke didn’t think she needed help—her butterflies could carry her. She grabbed his hand, noticing it was as moist as hers. With her opposite elbow, she struggled to push herself up, then stumbled. Her entire leg felt like lightning struck. Her grimace invited Chase closer—not pre-meditated, but enough to do the trick. Inhaling that intoxicating aroma, she eased onto his side again. Despite the excruciating pain, Brooke felt exhilarated and comforted. He had an alluring demeanor. Trusting. Confident.

And
married
.

Brooke felt naked, realizing her breast pressed against him again, but she didn’t dare try to move away. I have to calm down she told herself but her heart defied her mind’s request. With her heart pounding, she worried she might go into cardiac arrest in addition to a broken ankle if she didn’t relax. Judging from the stink Ruth made, she wondered if Chase rode a Harley. Brooke pictured herself hugging his six pack abs as his strapping upper body guided the motorcycle. This didn’t help bring her heartbeat down to human levels. She was looking forward to an intimate ride with this handsome prince, even if he was married.

The elevator door opened and this time—without heels—she managed to make it inside without incident. Chase pressed lower level, where she guessed his mystery mini-ride awaited in a private stall in the company parking garage. The plunge of the elevator felt like a free-fall. Neither one wanted another employee to observe them arm in arm again. Both of their ears popped just as the floor felt that heavy sensation of stopping.

“I’m right over there,” Chase nodded to the right. Brooke followed his gaze and noticed a shiny Harley. Her cheeks flushed. Passing the motorcycle, Brooke sighed. They kept hobbling several feet until Chase stopped at a red BMW convertible—it resembled a chariot. Brooke grinned. No snuggling, but the ride would be intimate, she thought.

“Hold on a sec,” Chase pulled his key out from his front pants pocket while holding Brooke. He pressed a button and the sleek car chirped and lit up. Chase opened the door, Brooke’s eyes widened. How can I possibly slide into that low seat without my skirt riding up to my belly button—or my top moving for a nipple shot? Or both. Brooke drew a deep breath then sighed.

“I’ve got you. Hang on.” Chase glanced both ways as if preparing to cross a busy street. Nobody. He lowered his hand just below Brooke’s derriere and before she could protest, he whisked her up into his arms. Brooke nearly fainted.

Brooke delighted in his warm sweet breath against her cheek—minty fresh. Their lips nearly touched. She liked this feeling. He clenched her and paused, amazed at how light she felt in his arms. They both smiled and he looked even more handsome up close. Brooke licked her lips. Chase said, “Let’s do this.” Brooke closed her eyes, then unconsciously parted her wanting lips just in case.

He lowered her, dashing her desire for a romantic kiss. Her eyes flipped open. He was guiding her feet first into the car. As she sighed, he said, “Try not to move. I’ll try not to bang your foot into anything.”

“Kay,” was all she could mutter. When her feet neared the carpeted floor, he slid his sturdy hand across her backside. Brooke whimpered, overcome with a flash of heat up her spine and back, settling below her waistline.

“Are you okay?” Chase’s eyes curved like a concerned doctor about to perform surgery on a loved one.

“I think so.” Brooke’s eyes fluttered as guilt permeated inside—how could I think of kissing my boss’s boss? Plus, he’s freaking married.

“Try not to move. I promise I won’t drive too fast,” he smiled with playful eyes.

“I really appreciate your—.”

The door shut before she could finish the sentence. She adjusted her blouse, realizing her cleavage didn’t leave much to the imagination. She desperately wanted to pull out her compact to see how red her face looked. She guessed her makeup looked like modern art. Calm down, she thought as he opened his door and climbed in.

The BMW had that new-car smell. She guessed Chase Allman always drove the latest models. The rich leather blended well with his natural aroma. Depressing the clutch pedal, he turned the key. The engine fired up into a suppressed roar. Still fantasizing about monkey-hugging him on a Harley, she delighted in the prospect of observing this dreamy man operate his toy car. She hoped they missed every traffic light.

Chase pulled off his suit coat and set it across the back seat. Brooke’s eyes widened. As he slid into his snug position in what resembled a cockpit, her nostrils inhaled his alluring fragrance. Brooke purred inside.

“Do you care if I lower the top?”

“Huh?” Brooke’s stunned look screamed
no chance.
She didn’t want one molecule of him to escape. Plus, she pictured her long hair turning into a bird’s nest.

“It’s such a nice day. I have to put the top down.” Brooke bit her lip and frowned. Chase picked up on her hesitation and said, “I have a baseball cap if you’re worried about your hair.”

“Okay, thanks—you read my mind.” Chase chuckled and flashed that wow smile. While reaching for the button to activate the automatic retractable roof, Brooke inhaled like a last breath before a big dive.

“Would you like that hat?”

“Yes.”

Chase reached behind his seat and pulled out a dark baseball hat. Handing it to Brooke, his smile matched the logo—Blue Devils.

Brooke gasped as if he punched her stomach. “I can’t wear this.”

“Why not?” His smile remained frozen—cute in a teasing way.

“No North Carolina girl would ever be caught dead in a Duke hat.”

Chase laughed so hard that she thought he’d break a rib. Brooke crinkled her eyebrows into a mock frown. He loved the way her eyes sparkled when upset. With laughter tears forming on the outside corners of his eyes, he reached behind her seat and retrieved a Harbour Town Golf Links hat.

“Much better.” Brooke flashed an inviting smile that rivaled his. Reaching to exchange it, his fingers brushed against her hand, sending a flutter up her spine. He truly had a magical touch.

“I guess I’ll wear my lucky hat just for you.” Sliding the hat over his brown wavy hair, he released a hearty chuckle. The cap highlighted his eyes in a fresh youthful way.

“Isn’t Harbour Town on Hilton Head?” Brooke asked rhetorically, still examining the hat in her hands.

“Yeah, it’s one of my favorite golf courses in the world.”

“Are you a pro golfer too?”

Chase snickered, “Not quite—I don’t play enough to be any good.” He opted against telling her about his low handicap, or that he rejected an offer to be an assistant teaching pro coming out of college. Sometimes, he wished he had chosen that path—those guys
play
golf and still earn a living—serving as a CEO paid well, but was not child’s play. He didn’t want to bore her whining about his past; he was interested in this woman who made his heart thump faster than his beemer’s tachometer. “I’m guessing you’re not into sports?”

“Why do you say that?” Brooke frowned.

“Oh, I don’t know… your gracefulness maybe?”

The tone of his voice activated Brooke’s brass ovaries. “Actually, I ran cross country at North Carolina—on a full scholarship.” She said
full scholarship
with gusto.

“Seriously?” Chase almost blurted
you’re too good looking to be a jock.

“Why does that surprise you? Actually, I still run every day. Hey, you were able to lift me off the ground pretty easily…”

“We’ll have to go running sometime.” Chase hoped to shift the conversation and pull his size 12’s out of his mouth.