The Bachelor Pact (16 page)

"I plan to have sketches for you on the first two houses by Friday," Maddie finally said when they reached her porch.

"No leopard-skin furniture or lava lamps?"

Maddie grinned. "You like lava lamps?"

His eyelids lowered to slits. "Yeah, but I don't think they fit with the historical society's code."

Maddie hitched out her hip, unable to resist teasing him. "But your subdivision isn't monitored by the historical society, is it?"

"No, but the designs are based on replicas of the homes built in the 1700s. I'd think the furniture should go along with it."

Maddie pretended to pout. "Then I guess the cowhide sofa is out. And the disco dance floor?"

He stared at her, a muscle ticking in his jaw. "Maddie, the people looking out here want old town Savannah, upscale—"

"I know," Maddie said softly, patting his arm. "I was teasing, Chase. Don't worry so much, I know what I'm doing."

He leaned against the steps, still looking doubtful. "Good. I hope we can stay on schedule. This tour is important, Maddie. Your brothers—"

Would die if they knew she'd used their mother's heirloom
as collateral
.

"I know, Chase. Don't you trust me?"

His dark gaze trapped her. A loaded question, and one to which she hoped he'd answer yes, but he simply lowered his eyes and let the silence stand between them, like a brick wall that couldn't be scaled. She studied his profile in the moonlight. He was so big and strong, his long raven hair brushing his collar, his eyes dark and heavy in the shadows. She remembered how he'd always stood like that, in the edge of the doorway at their house, looking lost and alone, like he wanted someone to invite him in, but he wasn't sure he'd say yes if they did. That hollow loneliness that always seemed to shroud his good mood and shadow his words with a huskiness sent heat spiraling right through her. She'd felt it when she was a teenager and had had a crush on him. She'd thought she'd outgrown him while she was away at school.

But she hadn't. Maybe she never would. Maybe he was waiting on her to make the first move.
But he turned you away after that kiss,
she reminded herself.
Because you're like a kid sister to him.

Only he hadn't looked at her like a sister back in the street before the tour.

"I'm sure you'll do a good job," he finally said in a husky voice.

And he isn't looking at you like a sister now.

"It's just—"

"Shh." She took his hand and pulled him up the steps so he was standing only a hairbreadth away. "You don't have to say anything else, Chase. Just shut up and kiss me."

The raw desire that darkened his eyes burned through any reservations she might have had. With a low groan, he cupped her chin in his hands, tilted his head and yanked her against his hard chest. His thighs felt hot as her body molded against his strong corded muscles. And his big hands felt like heaven as he stroked her back and drove his mouth over hers. He teased her lips apart with his tongue, then nipped at the corner of her mouth with his teeth before he plunged his tongue inside her mouth and swept her away with desire. His breath fanned against her cheek as he whispered her name on a husky sigh. Sweet fire rose within her. Hot and hungry and desperate.

She had never wanted anyone so badly in her life.

Maddie tore at his shirt, trying to drag it from his jeans. He walked her backward, pressing her back against the hard wood of her door, his hands snaking up her thighs, pushing up her skirt to rub her bare legs. She grabbed his buttocks and dug her hands into the clenching muscles as he ground his sex into her heat. Moisture pooled in her abdomen and dampened her center, sensations spiraling through her so quickly she thought she was going to scream with pleasure or die if he didn't take her right there on her porch.

Good heavens, they were right there on her porch.

Trying desperately not to destroy the moment, she ran her heel up along his leg and lifted her hands to his back, then she stroked his jaw and slowly broke the kiss, growing even more excited by the sound of his ragged breathing penetrating the silence. "Chase, let's go inside."

He rained kisses on her neck, licking the sensitive skin beneath her ear. God, she wanted him now.

"Chase, come on, let's go inside. Someone might see us on the porch."

A long moan escaped him, and he dropped his head against her cheek, his heavy body stiff and obviously aroused as his thick shaft wedged between her thighs. Her words seemed to slowly seep in, though, and she felt him start to pull away. She held him with her foot, but he lowered her skirt, dragging his gaze up to meet hers. His eyes were heavy and filled with hunger, his black lashes lowered, his jaw clenched for control. Heat swept through her again at the intensity of his passion. It would be so good... so incredible....

"Jesus, Maddie, I'm sorry."

Her breath hissed out as if he'd slapped her. "Don't, Chase. I want you to come in. To... to finish." She indicated the sexual hold he had on her body, the way her leg was wrapped around his, the way the bulge of his sex fit so intimately with her body. "I want you."

The passion she'd seen earlier slowly dissipated as he set her aside. "No, Maddie. We can't do this."

She was cold now and shivering, so she wrapped her arms around her middle, missing his warmth. "But... but why? We're good together. I feel it, and so do you."

She indicated his arousal, refusing to allow him to throw the blame off on her or say the attraction had been one-sided.

He backed toward the stairs, lingering at the post again. She stepped forward, her heart in her eyes, and traced a finger along the scar on his forehead. "Chase, don't—"

"Don't what? Stop us from doing something stupid."

"Don't shut me out. I... I like you, and... and we've known each other forever and—"

"Maddie, stop. You're Lance and Reid's little sister." Chase pulled away from her, ran a hand through his hair, and dropped his head forward, his face twisting with emotions.

"Chase, I'm not anybody's kid sister."

"The hell you aren't."

Maddie swept her hand down her body. "Forget them for now. Just look at me and tell me what you see."

Chase raised his gaze to hers, his eyes stormy. "All right. I see a beautiful, desirable woman who's looking for a man."

"Not just any man, Chase. You."

A muscle ticked in his jaw, almost as if her admission hurt. "Maddie, you think that now, just because you got all fired up, but tomorrow you'd regret it if we made love. And I'd regret it."

Maddie swallowed, fighting tears, determined not to shed them in front of him. She already hated herself for begging, but she had to make one last attempt. "What if I said I wouldn't regret it tomorrow?"

He hesitated, fisting his hands by his side as if he wanted to reach for her. Or maybe he wanted to push her away. "There's too much at stake here, Maddie. The job, my friendship with Lance and Reid, our working relationship—"

"We can deal with all that."

"Trust me, Maddie, I'm not the man for you."

"Why don't you let me decide that?"

His eyes flickered with doubts, turmoil written on every feature of his face. Finally, he exhaled, rammed his hand through his hair again and backed down the stairs. "It's not going to happen, Mad. You're just going to have to accept it."

Without another word, he turned and stalked down the sidewalk, leaving Maddie alone and frustrated. She watched him move into the shadows of the street and fumed, wondering what she had done to deserve this humiliation, wondering if the excuses he'd given were just that—excuses—because he didn't want her badly enough.

She pressed herself against the wall and struggled to breathe normally. The strong scent of his cologne mixed with his musky masculine smell lingered on her clothes, the rough texture of his lips still burned her mouth. Her heat still ached for his touch. But he didn't look back. And when he finally disappeared around the corner, she unlocked the door and went inside, vowing it would be the last time she would ever throw herself at Chase Holloway.

Chapter 11

What if I don't regret it tomorrow?

Maddie's words were burned into Chase's mind as if they'd been seared by a branding iron. What if... No, he could not even think it.

He would have regretted it enough for both of them.

He had signed that bachelor pact, because he liked his life and he wanted to stay single. Making love with Maddie would be almost like a proposal. Lance and Reid would hate him. And his whole life would go to hell.

His father had let a woman ruin his life, and Chase didn't intend to fall into the same trap. Lust wasn't worth it.

He turned on his power sander and began to work on the rusty edges of the Camaro, hoping the physical labor would ease the tension from his knotted muscles. He'd already tried sleeping, but images of Maddie's desire-slitted eyes had come unbidden in the dark, hacking away at his resolve. The delicious taste of hunger on her lips, the purr of passion rumbling from her whispered pleas, the perfect way his sex had fit between her wet, willing thighs...

Ouch! He sanded his thumbnail down to the quick, the end of his thumb raw. He sucked on the tip to ease the pain, determined to forget the way his libido acted around Maddie.

The machine whirred as he aligned it with the fender and gently guided it along the rusty spots. He'd worked too hard to earn his degree, to stay out of trouble, to perfect his architectural skills so he could work with his best friends. He was so close to making it, he could almost taste the heady nectar of success. He couldn't possibly jeopardize his own future for sex. Not even the hottest, most fiery, dynamite sex he might ever have in his life.

But it wouldn't simply be sex with Maddie.

Hell, nothing was simple where Maddie was concerned.

What if I don't regret it tomorrow?

What had she meant by that? Sure, she'd regret it. Tomorrow, she'd wake up and see the orphan bad boy who'd spent half his time in detention, the other half scraping himself out of trouble with the law. The man no one had wanted when he was a kid because he was so damn mean.

Maddie deserved better.

She was just acting this way, because she was on the rebound from the wuss. She wanted to rebel against Lance and Reid, and he was the perfect man to flirt with to rattle her brothers.

She was damn sure rattling
him.

Ouch.

He'd done it again, only this time he'd sanded his whole thumb. Yanking a handkerchief from his pocket, he tried to blot the blood oozing from the broken skin, and turned off the sander. And what if she did put leopard-skin furniture or lava lamps in his antebellum homes? What if she completely went retro and turned off buyers?

He stumbled sideways, stepped on a nail and swore again when the broom handle slapped him in the head. Limping to sit down, he dug the nail from his boot and blinked but felt his eye, which had finally started to heal, already swelling shut. He slowly rose and groped to find his way inside, deciding he'd better quit for the night before he killed himself—which absolutely proved his theory one hundred percent—just thinking about Maddie Summers was dangerous.

* * *

"Look, you can't pull out now," Lance said. "We'll get back on schedule—"

Viranda Roth, millionaire and owner of several Italian restaurants across the states, tossed him a look of disdain, ranking him somewhere among the rats crawling underground in the city. "I'm sorry, Mr. Summers, but time is money. I want to move in
this
year. I've decided to settle on Hilton Head instead."

"I'm afraid at this late date, you'll lose your down payment, ma'am."

"That little paltry amount hardly matters." She wrapped her silk scarf around her platinum-blond hair and waved him off, then sauntered out of the door.

He silently wished revenge, something that would really get the snotty lady's goat—maybe for her hairdresser to screw up and turn her beehive some hideous orange the next time she went in for a dye job.

The minute her Ferrari drove away, Lance spun around, studied the planning board filled with pegs he used to indicate pre-sold lots and removed a peg, growling in frustration. They couldn't stand to lose another sale. They'd counted on the capital from the sales to get them through the first phase of building. Losing the Rothchild account meant an immediate cash loss as well as losing the chance at having one of the Roth restaurants located in the hub of the development. The business would have added a continental flavor to the area, enticing prospective buyers.

"What's that growl for?"

Wheeling around in his chair, he spotted none other than Sophie Lane standing in the doorway. Sunlight danced across her ivory skin, streaking her short black hair with golden light that shimmered and made the vibrant dark ends shine like silk. A short blood-red dress hugged every feature of her petite body, outlining her curves and accentuating her generous breasts. His body hardened and began to throb.