Page 22 of A Little Moore Action
It’s as if we’ve known each other a lot longer than two days and a phone call. Maybe it’s because he saw my nipples. Or knows what color panties I like. Whatever it is, I can’t let myself be less than professional. Even if he is charming and has the physique of an Olympic swimmer, with dark hair that’s a day or two past needing a trim, and large, graceful hands…
No. Not going down that road. Going down… Shoot, now I’m thinking about going down on Chase Moore. My dirty, dirty mind is obviously against me. I really should’ve listened to Leslie and opened up an online dating profile. This sex drought I’m experiencing must be affecting my professionalism.
“Thanks so much for this opportunity, Ms. King, Mr. Moore,” Alice says, hugging the folder full of paperwork to her chest and, thankfully, pulling me out of my dirty daydreams.
“No, thank you, Alice. You just did me a solid, putting your artistic talents to better use for the company,” Chase says smoothly while guiding her to the door. “And remember, it’s Chase, not Mr. Moore.”
Alice nods, still wide-eyed, thanks us again, and leaves to finish her shift in the shoe department before reporting in with the rest of my team tomorrow in the conference room.
“The coffee’s probably cold by now.” Chase gestures to the drink carrier I’d placed on his office coffee table and picks up the phone. “I’ll get my assistant to have more sent up.”
I want to protest, but honestly, I know my team. They need to be properly caffeinated. “Thanks.”
“No problem.”
While he’s on the phone, I walk over to the mostly empty shelves. I say mostly, since whereas there was nothing but shiny mahogany glaring at me when I was here yesterday, today there are three photos scattered on one large shelf. In one photo, a younger Raymond, maybe thirty or so, though still as stiff-looking as ever, is bent at the waist, eye to eye with an elementary-school-aged Chase. The older man’s stern but loving expression is at humorous odds with Chase’s impish grin.
At first glance, the second photo is of a random clothing rack. But on closer inspection, two pairs of shoes peek out from beneath the clothes—one pair of red girls’ sandals and one of scuffed-up boys’ sneakers.
The third photo makes me chuckle. It’s a teenage Chase, standing next to a slightly younger Susan. Susan is smiling at the camera, but Chase’s eyes are cutting to the side where an attractive salesgirl, maybe in her twenties, is working.
“As you can see, Raymond and Susan have known me most of my life.”
I jump, not having heard Chase move up behind me.
“Our conversation yesterday reminded me of these photos.” His finger drags along the side of one of the brass frames.
“It did?”
“Yep.” He picks up the one of him and Susan. “What you can’t see in this photo is my sister, crouched just off camera, ready to pounce.”
“Your sister? All I see is a hormonal teenage boy ready to pounce on an unsuspecting salesgirl.” I look closer at the picture, taking in Chase’s slightly leaner frame and longer, shaggy hair. His expression is just an older version of the mischievous grin he gave Raymond in the first photo.
“Yes, I was planning my next attempt at seduction with Serena.” He taps on the girl in the picture. “But I shouldn’t have bothered. Liz took care of it for me in the end.” His grin is rather sheepish. “Remember that story I told you yesterday? Well, this was the moment just before she pantsed me.”
“Oh my God. No.” I laugh out loud, imagining the confident, handsome boy in the picture getting taken down a peg by an equally mischievous sister.
“Oh, yes. But not to worry.” He places the frame back on the shelf. “I had the last laugh.”
“And how’s that?”
Hands in his pockets, he rocks back on his heels. “I had been pestering Serena for a good month to go out with me. Even though I was seventeen and she was twenty-two. Each time, I was shot down.”
“Oh, poor you.”
“Yes, my poor, tender heart was bruised beyond belief.”
Scoffing, I pat him on the shoulder. “I bet.”
“Then Liz pants me. Managing not only to take down my trousers, but my boxers as well.”
“No!” My laughter erupts once again. But instead of looking embarrassed, Chase just smirks. “So how did you get the last laugh? Did you pants her back or something?”
He shakes his head. “Nope. Didn’t even have to come up with a plan for revenge. Serena did that for me.”
“What do you mean?”
“One look at me with my pants down, and I had a date.”
