Page 46 of Giving Chase

"They're already started," she informs me, leading the way. "Just getting some shots of the band first, then-"

I don't hear the rest of her sentence. My brain short-circuits at the sight of Chase.

His hair. God, his hair. Gone are the shaggy rockstar locks I've known for two decades, replaced by a sleek undercut that somehow makes him look both older and younger at once. The longer top is artfully tousled, and there's a neat beard shadowing his jaw, silver threads catching the studio lights. He looks...

Professional. Put together. Devastatingly handsome.

I realize I'm staring when Will catches my eye and smirks. Thankfully, everyone else is focused on the photographer's instructions.

"Alright, Chase, lean on Will's shoulder - yeah, perfect. Now Mark, if you could just..."

I busy myself with my phone, pretending to check emails while sneaking glances. The new look transforms him from aging rockstar to distinguished musician. It suits him. Suits the man he's become.

"Ms. Kerr!" The photographer's voice makes me jump. "Perfect timing. We need some shots with management."

"Oh, I don't think-" I start, but I'm already being herded toward the group.

"Here, between Chase and Will," the photographer directs, and suddenly I'm there, hyperaware of Chase's proximity, of the heat radiating from his body.

"Hey," he says softly, just for me. "You're late."

I risk a glance up at him, and my heart stutters. This close, I can see the laugh lines around his eyes, the silver in his beard. His eyes are clear, present. No haze of substances dulling that intense green.

"Budget meetings," I manage. "You look... different."

A small smile plays at his lips. "Good different?"

Before I can answer, the photographer calls for another configuration, and we're shifting, moving. Each new pose brings a fresh point of contact - his hand at the small of my back, my shoulder brushing his chest. It's professional, necessary. So why does each touch feel like electricity?

"Actually," the photographer says, reviewing his screen, "let's get a few of just Ms. Kerr and Chase. The rest of you can take five."

My stomach drops. Will and Mark exchange knowing looks as they step away, leaving Chase and me alone in front of the lights.

"Chase, if you could..." The photographer gestures, and suddenly Chase is behind me, one hand resting lightly on my waist. Professional. Casual. Except nothing about Chase's touch has ever been casual.

"Relax," Chase murmurs, his breath warm against my ear. "You look like you're being held hostage."

I want to elbow him, but I force a smile for the camera instead. "I hate having my picture taken. You know that."

"I remember," he says softly. "London, 2008. That press junket where you made me stand in front of you in every shot."

The memory hits me with surprising force - Chase, laughing, playing human shield while I hid from the paparazzi. Things were simpler then. Or maybe we just thought they were.

"Perfect, hold that!" The photographer's voice breaks through my reverie. "That connection - whatever you just said to her, Chase, say it again. Yes! There it is!"

I realize I've turned my head slightly, looking up at Chase, and he's looking down at me with such tenderness it makes my chest ache. For a moment, I forget about the cameras, the people watching, everything except the way he's looking at me.

Click. Click. Click.

"Beautiful," the photographer murmurs. "Absolutely beautiful. Come see."

We break apart, the spell shattered. On the photographer's screen, I watch him scroll through the shots. My breath catches.

There we are, caught in that unguarded moment. Chase's new look is striking, yes, but it's our expressions that grab me. The way we're looking at each other... there's no denying what's there. No pretending it's just professional. No hiding behind carefully constructed walls.

"This one's magic," the photographer says, obviously pleased. "You can feel the history between you."

I step back quickly, nearly stumbling. "I should check in with the stylist about the ceremony outfits," I say, my voice not quite steady. "Excuse me."

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