Page 2 of Body

“No, you may not. I’m expecting someone.” Perfectly reasonable reply. It’s a fat lie, but it always works when an unwanted suitor tries to saddle up next to me.

“They can sit in the chair on the other side of you.” He grins. Damn his sexy face. I could look at it for days on end and still not understand how God could create something so perfect. That’s probably all he has going for him.

He snaps at the bartender, and he comes running.

“How rude. Do you always treat everyone like a dog?” I’m not even sure why I opened my mouth. I should have ignored him, finished my drink, and left. But no, I had to poke the sexy Superman.

He looks at me as the bartender waits patiently. Seems odd from a bartender. Why not just butt in and ask what Superman wants. He searches my face with his ocean eyes and speaks to the bartender without looking at him. Again, rude!

“Sam, I’ll have another. As will she.” He gestures to my mostly drained wine glass.

“Yes, Mr. Davis. Right away.” The bartender practically bows before running off to make the drinks.

“Mr. Davis? I take it you come here often?”

“Chase Davis, and, yes, I own this hotel. It’s important to check in on my investments.”

I feel my cheeks burn. I’m not sure if it’s from embarrassment or irritation. Maybe a little of both. Besides being distractingly beautiful, he’s pompous. I don’t care for it.

“I’m sorry if I appeared rude, but a snap did get Sam’s attention. I wanted to order you another drink before you ran off.”

Seems reasonable enough. “And why are you interested in buying me a drink, Mr. Davis?”

“Chase. You can call me Chase.”

“I get the feeling you’re used to being called Mr. Davis.” I use my most seductive tone. “You like the respect it gives you?” Where in the hell I’m coming up with this shit is beyond me. I feel like I’m playing a game I’ve never played before, and I have no idea if I’m winning or losing. Something about this man taunts my defenses to prickle and strike, but not in an uncomfortable way. More like I want to get a rise out of him.

“In my professional life, Mr. Davis is appropriate, yes. Privately, as in this conversation, I’d like you to call me Chase.” His eyes sparkle, and, when he smiles, I’m gifted an even set of white teeth. Breathtaking.

I nod, not sure how to keep up the sparring. Every bit of his essence exudes confidence and control and I’m wilting under the pressure of being near him. He’s the sexy Superman, but it seems as if he’s becoming my kryptonite.

“In answer to your question, I bought you a drink so I could get to know you better. “

My insides quiver as his gaze skims my face, then moves down, landing on my chest. I’m so thankful I wore the tight tank top under the blazer. It accentuates my breasts, yet leaves just enough to the imagination. Thank you, ‘What Not to Wear’ for the fitted jacket and sexy tank technique.

I lick my lips and bite the bottom one, trying to decide what to say or do next. He inhales, and I see the rise and fall of his wide chest. Those blue eyes swirl with color and dilate. “What’s your name?” he asks.

“Gillian Callahan, but my friends call me Gigi.”

“I will call you Gillian or Miss Callahan.” He clasps my hand and brings it to his lips for a kiss. “Pet names are earned. I prefer to choose my own.” His husky tone sends bouts of pure lust twisting and curling in rivulets through me.

Jesus, this man is sex incarnate. It oozes through his words, the twinkle in his eyes, and the sly grin attached to a delectable pair of lips. I want to kiss, bite, and savor those lips. In that order. He yanks at his tie and pulls the knot free entirely. With a flick of his fingers, he undoes the top two buttons at the collar, exposing a nice tanned piece of flesh. I lean closer to him, my eyes riveted to that speck of flesh. Desperately, I want to reach out and give it a lick. Just a quick little taste. That’s all I’d need.

“You like what you see, Gillian?”

Before my brain connects and filters my reply, I nod dumbly. With the full spirit of a teenaged girl with a crush, the lame, drawn out response slips out, “God, yes.”

“Mmm, I’m so glad. Shall we continue this conversation somewhere else?” His eyes go from Caribbean blue to black in seconds. One large hand strays to my knee, his thumb traces an infinity symbol there. With each small press of skin to denim, I feel his touch as if it is searing my skin with his mark. Ribbons of excitement rush out through my limbs until what he said crashes around me.

“Excuse me. What?” I jump from my seat, which takes a bit of effort, as my legs have turned to jelly. Take this somewhere more comfortable? Like I’m a whore ready to hop into bed with a man, albeit a sexy as hell one, ten minutes after meeting? I am not that girl. Well, I could be, but that’s not the impression I want to give.

His face twists into a confused grimace. He reaches for me, but I step back escaping his grasp. Big men reaching for me often trigger a panic attack. His eyes narrow. “You want me. I can see it very clearly. It’s written all over your gorgeous face, and you wear your emotions on your sleeve.”

Tingles of fear prickle my spine and shoot up to raise the tender hairs at my neck. I shake my head. “You must have misunderstood. I need to go. It was nice meeting you.” Turning, I clear my head and make for the lobby bar’s exit.

“Gillian, wait!” he calls from behind me. I debate breaking into a full run, but I know I’m safe here. This is a five star resort hotel in the middle of downtown Chicago. People are milling around everywhere. With a deep breath, I turn and face the most beautiful man alive. Superman doesn’t do him justice. He is just…perfect.

When he catches up to me, he hands me a white card. “My business card. My cell is on the back. I’m not really sure what happened here, but I’d like to see you again.”

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