Page 46 of Body

“You bastard.” Chase pulls me behind him and Carson moves between the two men, firmly separating them. We’ve acquired quite a crowd of onlookers during their little tete-a-tete.

I grip Chase’s arms from behind to remind him of my presence and lean my head between his shoulder blades. “Baby, it’s okay,” I whisper so quietly I’m not sure he can hear. He turns and slides his hands along my bare arms. I see hurt and frustration in his eyes. He’s seething, but I haven’t the slightest idea why. After a couple deep breaths, he guides me with a hand at my lower back to the table and we both sit.

“I think it’s time for you to take your seat, Coop.” Carson gestures at a seat next to Chase’s Mother. There are two empty chairs between the men and I’m not sure that’s enough. I’m not sure the state of Texas being between these two would be enough to assuage the anger simmering under the surface. Chase is barely keeping his cool. As Cooper adjusts his tie and cracks his neck, showing he’s unfazed by the little debacle they shared, Chase is on an entirely different plane. His fingers grip the back of my chair, white with strain. The other hand is high on my thigh, rubbing the satin expanse back and forth as if the movement sootheshim,not me.

I sit across from Chase’s Mother with Kat next to me and Carson next to her. I watch the woman and silently vow to do my best to woo his Mother and avoid any conversation with Cooper.

A leggy blonde with a pep in her step rushes through the crowd. She makes it to our table as a man in a tux taps on the microphone at the lone podium. Her dress is made of gold sequins and black silk. It’s fitted to her long, curvy body like a second skin. The sequins are tailored around the lower half of her body in the shape of a high-waisted mini-skirt. It’s short in the front then draped with black silk flowing down the back into a train. The same black silk crisscrosses over each breast in a big “X” across her chest. It’s a design I’ve never seen before. Kat looks at the gown and then the woman as if she’s the Queen of Pop, Madonna herself. The stunning blonde slides into the seat next to Chase and gives him a big hug. Instantly I feel the sting of jealousy roar through my veins and heat my blood.

“Chase! I’ve missed you, Cuz!” She kisses him on each cheek. I roll my eyes and mentally bitch slap myself. I’m an idiot. “And who is this lovely woman next to you.” His cousin is the designer Kat’s been itching to meet. Her honey-colored eyes are soft and alight with happiness as if her whole face is lit with a smile. She is as beautiful as the aura surrounding her.

“This is my significant other, Gillian Callahan.” Her eyes widen in surprise. Seems everyone is surprised by my presence this evening. No more so than me. Apparently Chase has taken us from merely dating to in a full blown relationship in one weekend. “Gillian, this is my baby cousin, Chloe Davis.” He obviously has a great affection for the young woman, based on his ease and happiness at seeing her. The issue with Cooper seems to be overshadowed by her arrival.

“Hello, Chloe. You can call me Gigi. Everyone does. I’ve heard such wonderful things about you,” I tell her.

“I wish I could say the same about you.” Chloe eyes Chase. “Looks like my cuz here has some explaining to do!” She jabs his shoulder.

“Ouch!” Chase mockingly rubs his bicep and most of the table laughs. His Mother purposely ignores all of us, looking out over the sea of tables, waving across the room now and again.

Chase introduces Kat and she nearly swoons. “I’m in love with you,” Kat says, having a completely foot in your mouth fan girl moment. I put my hand over my mouth to hold back my chuckle. Chloe’s eyebrows raise as Kat cringes, shaking her head. “I mean, I mean I’m in love with your work!” Kat clarifies and Chloe laughs. Poor Kat slumps in her seat and looks away, her cheeks turning crimson. Carson puts a hand to the back of her neck giving it a comforting squeeze which I find utterly fascinating.

Chloe is sweet and throws out a life preserver. “I didn’t realize anyone in the States has even heard of me!”

Kat instantly pops out of her slump, smiling and clasping her hand under her chin. “Are you kidding? I have pictures of your work pulled out ofItalian VogueandBazaar.I even put them in a binder I can flip through when I need ideas for costumes!” Kat practically jumps with excitement.

Chloe’s eyes widen. “Really? That’s so cool!” Chloe says, “Where do you work?”

“At the San Francisco Theater. I’m the head costume designer for the entire show.” Kat beams with pride. She has worked her way up the ranks and does beautiful work. She slaves over each costume but the proof is in the pudding. Her work is impeccable.

Chloe pays close attention while Kat explains the finer details of the show. “Wow, I’d love to design costumes someday. Sounds very couture and fun!”

Kat nods excitedly.

“Hey, why don’t you and Gigi come to my private showroom sometime? I have a space in the Davis building. Fortieth Floor along with a couple other designers. I’d love to get your opinion on my new line showing next Spring.”

Kat nudges me and whispers, “Oh. My. God.” Then she composes herself by straightening her back and tipping her head to the side pushing a lock of hair behind her ear like she isn’t completely dying with excitement. “That would be cool. Right Gigi?” She plows her elbow into my bicep and I yelp.

“Right!” I say with fervor and a giggle, grasping my bruised arm. “We’d love to come,” I finish as Chase pulls me into his side and nuzzles against my neck.

“You are too sweet. I could eat you for breakfast,” he whispers against my ear. “Mmm.” He bites down on the skin lightly. “I think will.”

“You mean instead of your cookies?” I grin and sip my champagne.

He chuckles and tightens his hold. “Possibly with my cookies.” With one last nibble he breaks away and chats with his cousin.

The lights dim and a dashingly debonair man strides through the crowd and pulls out the lone chair next to Chase’s mother and Chloe. He leans down and kisses Chase’s mother’s cheek before looking around the table, his salt and pepper hair giving a hint to his age but not distracting from his good looks. He definitely has the Davis genes. He waves at Chase and then stops when Chase puts his arm around my shoulders. The man’s eyes catch mine as he watches us with great interest.

“My Uncle Charles, the man who raised me,” he says. I nod as Chase kisses my bare shoulder. His Uncle smiles coyly and I return the smile.

His mother “tsk tsks” between her teeth, then focuses her attention on the stage. From the podium, the emcee asks everyone to get settled. The waiters deliver food in a flurry of activity as we listen to stories of people throughout the nation and the world who lost their homes over the past year. The presenter talks about the work the charity has accomplished because of generous donors, such as the individuals in the crowd. A slideshow is presented.

Toward the end of the presentation, the announcer recognizes one special person. “This man has not only given of himself by donating his company’s architectural designs, housing plans and services, but has personally donated millions to the cause. That is why we would like to recognize Chase Davis as Humanitarian of the Year! Chase, please come receive your award!” the President finishes.

Chase’s head pops back, a shocked expression on his face. He’s surprised. I stand and clap with everyone else in the room. His gaze scans the room and his mouth opens before he licks his lips and looks down. He finally looks up and pulls me into a tight hug. “I had no idea,” he whispers against my ear.

The room erupts in applause and a spotlight shines over our table. Chase walks to the stage and up the steps. The big LCD screen behind him displays a huge picture of Chase in a hard hat, a “Houses for Humanity” t-shirt across his broad chest and distressed jeans slung low on his hips. He is standing in front of a dilapidated house, wearing a tool belt. He has a sledge hammer over one shoulder. He looks perfectly edible.

The crowd calms as Chase accepts his award.

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