The Bachelor Pact (19 page)

"Are there any normal, single men left in Savannah?" Maddie cradled the phone to her ear, juggling the coffeepot. "You should try that as a topic for your show."

Sophie laughed. "I can't believe Greg is such a phony. He has everyone at the station completely fooled."

Maddie filled her cup and emptied a packet of artificial sweetener in her coffee, then stirred as she grabbed a bagel from the toaster. "So, are you going to expose him?"

"I don't know." Sophie made a tsking sound. "I hate to ruin the guy; he has worked hard to get this show going, and it's supposed to be the best comedy of the year."

"He's a pervert," Maddie said matter-of-factly, jumping when a roar of thunder rent the air. It had been raining all morning, so she'd slept in and still wore her pajamas—boxer shorts and a T-shirt. "He wanted the two of us
together
, Soph."

Sophie laughed again. "A lot of men fantasize about having more than one woman at the same time," Sophie said, obviously unimpressed.

Maddie opened her mouth to bite into the bagel but accidentally bit her tongue instead. "So, you're saying you'd... you'd participate?"

"That's not what I meant," Sophie said quickly. "I interviewed a sex therapist on the show last year, and he said having more than one lover is the most common fantasy men have."

"He wanted to video us, too. And you should have seen his shower."

"You were in his shower?"

"Long story, but yeah. I was hiding out there." Maddie tucked her feet beneath her and rubbed her hand over the black silk robe lying next to her on the couch, wondering how she'd get it back to Greg without revealing herself. "Anyway, this guy had enough gels and body paint in there for an orgy. I'm wearing the evidence of it—my hair still shimmers with neon-green sparkles."

"Sounds interesting," Sophie said. "Wonder where he bought it?"

"Sophie!" They both burst into laughter. Finally, when they calmed down, Maddie said, "Maybe you can help me get his robe back to him."

"You stole his bathrobe?"

"I had to wear something to cover my neon glowing top." The doorbell rang, and Maddie set her cup down, almost spilling her coffee in her lap. "Uh-oh, someone's here. I hope it's not my brothers checking up on me."

"If it's Lance, tell him I'm going to drop by and see him later today."

Maddie hung up, then tucked her feet in her fuzzy bedroom slippers and hobbled to the door, cursing Greg for nearly breaking her toe with his weighted shoes. One glance outside, and she knew her brief reprieve was over—Lance and Chase stood on her doorstep, hunched over in the rain. Lightning illuminated the porch, highlighting her brother's fierce scowl. Chase kept his head tilted downward, raindrops sliding off his jaw and plopping onto his worn boots. She had a good mind to leave them both outside and let them drown.

Lance reached up and pounded on the door, though, and she realized her neighbors would be complaining if she didn't answer. Heaving a sigh, she brushed her hair out of her eyes and opened the door. Lance pushed past her, dripping water all over her floor as he strode in. Chase hesitated, then wiped his feet and followed. Without waiting for an invitation, Lance poured himself a cup of coffee and handed one to Chase. While Lance searched for the sugar dish, Maddie stared at Chase. He was still wearing his eye patch, which reminded her of her erotic dream—he was a pirate in a secret tunnel, wearing nothing but that patch—

Obviously aware of her gaze, his hand adjusted the black triangle. "Uh, I have to wear it a few more days," he mumbled sheepishly.

She quirked an eyebrow, trying to remind herself to treat him like a big brother. Nothing more. But her traitorous tongue betrayed her. "After that visit to the Pirate's House, I thought maybe you decided you liked it."

His gaze latched with hers, dark and dangerous, and she saw when he caught the connection. His mouth quirked sideways in that sexy half-smile, but his good eye strayed and landed on the couch. More exactly on the black silk robe she'd stolen from Greg Pugh. Greg's initials seemed to glare back at her.

Chase's half-smile evaporated. Panicking at the thought of Lance seeing the man's robe, Maddie grabbed it and shoved it beneath the cushion, then sat down on top of it just as Lance turned, slowly sipping his coffee.

"Who sent the flowers, shortstop?" Chase asked.

Maddie bit down on her lip. "Jeff."

Chase raised a brow.

Lance pushed the paper toward her. "Explain that."

"What?" Maddie opened the paper and stifled a gasp when she saw the front page. Remembering Greg Pugh and his toupee and bridge, laughter bubbled up inside her and spilled out.

"What the hell's so funny?" Lance asked.

Maddie shoved the paper toward him. "This."

"I don't see the humor." Lance paced across the floor. "What were you doing at this weirdo's house like
that?
And what does this mean—you're his latest conquest?"

She couldn't argue with the weirdo part. But his conquest?

"I wasn't his conquest."

Chase snarled. "Well, hell you're all over each other—"

"We were just dancing."

"How did you meet him?"

Maddie felt the first embers of her temper flare, but ignored them, reminding herself she'd extricate herself from the situation faster if she offered a quick explanation. They didn't have to know everything. "Sophie introduced us. She works with him at the station."

Lance cursed. "I should have known that woman had something to do with this."

"That woman?" Maddie's control snapped. "That woman has a name—Sophie Lane. She's my friend, Lance. I don't know what you have against her, but I expect you to be nice to her." She swung her hand toward the door. "Now, if you can't respect me and my friends, get out."

Lance's eyes widened in alarm and shock. Chase sat stoically, his one-eyed gaze level with the sofa. Maddie glanced down in horror and realized the black belt was dangling from the cushion like a snake, almost touching the floor.

She raised her head a notch, pleading with Chase to help her out. "Chase, can't you make my macho, pigheaded brother understand that I'm a grown woman now?"

"She's a grown woman now," Chase said in a curt voice, his gaze locked to that black belt. "Besides, we have work to do, Lance."

Lance and Chase exchanged looks Maddie didn't quite understand, but Maddie was grateful when Lance conceded to Chase.

Chase sipped his coffee, staring at her over the rim of his mug. "It's raining, so I thought maybe we could look over the designs you've done so far." His shoulders lifted in a small shrug. "I want to make sure we're on the same track."

Maddie's temper deflated. "You're really interested?"

"Of course." He snatched a bagel, bit into it and gave Lance a pointed look. "This project's got to be the most important thing to all of us right now. More important than our personal lives."

Maddie nodded. "At least we agree on something."

"Mad, listen, I'm just worried." Lance's withered expression tore at Maddie. "It can't look good for your business to be associated with this character, Pugh. Do you know what his show is about?"

Maddie refused to tell him she knew a lot more about Greg Pugh than he did. "Yes, I know."

He frowned, but lowered his voice to that concerned, protective tone that always mellowed her anger. How could she stay mad at him for loving her? Heck, she was mad at Chase, because he
didn't
love her.

"So, are you serious about him?"

Laughter swelled in her chest, but she bottled it. Let them think the guy was a catch and that he was interested in her. "It was just a party, Lance." Lance stood to get more coffee, and she quickly stuffed the robe belt under the cushion, then placed her coffee cup on the counter. "Now, I'm going to shower and dress so Chase and I can get to work."

She felt Chase's eyes watching her as she left the room. And she couldn't help but wonder what
he
had thought of the picture.

* * *

Three hours later, Chase had reviewed all the mock-up boards Maddie had made and somehow let her talk him into accompanying her on a buying trip. Just to make sure he approved of things for the model homes, she'd said. Plus, she wanted to get an idea of his tastes and maybe select a few items for his house. Heck, there wasn't much he didn't approve of—except the fact that the night before while he'd been lying in bed alone, she'd had some other man's hands crawling up her skirt.

But her work had really poleaxed him—while he'd expected outlandish or eclectic, she had practically reproduced the original furnishings of some of the antebellum homes. He nodded as she pointed to a painting of a Roman goddess she wanted for the dining room of the Italian Renaissance house, barely cognizant of her chattering away about furniture and accessories and color choices. Not her choice in men. She'd been treating him like a big brother ever since that pirate comment. And she hadn't ventured onto the topic of the photo or the robe. He hadn't dared to mention them either for fear she'd think he cared.

And he didn't. Did he?

Ever since he'd seen that damn picture, he'd been battling the oddest feeling. A twinge that kept nagging at him like a bad headache coming on, but it pressed against his heart and burned up through his throat, then sank back down to his gut and made his stomach feel like it was on fire.

A feeling he thought might be jealousy.

But how could a man be jealous of something he'd never had? Or never had the right to have. Or didn't even really want.

Or did he—did he really want Maddie?

Ye—hell, no.

He was glad she'd suddenly started treating him like a friend again. That was exactly what he wanted. An uncomplicated personal life so he could concentrate on business. He would not wind up ruining his life for a woman like his old man had, especially if Maddie only wanted to date him as a rebellious act against her brothers.

He wanted to be successful, to show the folks of Savannah he wasn't just a poor white trash, orphan little boy. Nothing else mattered. So, he'd never had family, well, except for Lance and Reid. They were all he needed.
The Terrible Three—bachelors forever.

"Chase, what do you think about this vase? It's imported—"

"It's fine."

Maddie planted her small fists on her hips. "But you didn't even look at it."

"I guess you convinced me you know what you're talking about."

A pleased, almost grateful smile spread on her face. "Really?"

He made a gallant effort to avoid her gaze. Something magnetic about her eyes... "Yeah, really."

"Oh, Chase, I'm so glad." She blushed. "For some reason I was afraid you were actually coming along because you didn't trust me. I even..."

"Even what?"

"Even wondered if my brothers put you up to it, you know, made you baby-sit me in case I screwed up. But even they wouldn't do something so devious, now would they?"

He winced inwardly, a mountain of guilt welling in his chest.

She indicated her briefcase. "Thank heavens I'm wrong."

But she wasn't. And she would be crushed if she discovered the truth.

"Now, follow me. There's this divine four-poster bed I want to show you."

A bed? Had Maddie just said she wanted to take him to bed?

"Come on, old man. See if you can keep up."

Old man?

She talked nonstop about furniture and bedding and vases and crystal while they walked, the earlier intimate flirting vacant from her eyes and voice. So, she was going to treat him like a pal. Great.

Good. Fine. That was exactly what he wanted.

She grabbed his hand and led him out of the store, down two blocks to a small antique mart. When he walked inside, he felt as if he'd stepped back in time.

Antiques and period pieces filled the store along with collector's items, French tapestries and a corner full of Revolutionary War paraphernalia. Maddie dragged him upstairs past Belgium lace canopies and ornate antique mirrors to a section of period bedroom furniture. When Maddie explained she was a decorator and planned to make several purchases but wanted time alone to study the merchandise, the saleslady excused herself to let them browse.

Suddenly, Maddie sprawled on top of the white lace-draped mattress, waving a hand at the ornately carved headboard and explaining the time period. "It's a replica of the bed Duncan Phyfe made for his daughter. It'll be perfect in the Georgian estate, don't you think?"

Chase nodded, his gaze glued to Maddie's body stretched seductively on the pristine comforter, her long legs beckoning from beneath that slinky black skirt. As she reached above her to point to the carving, the satin fabric of her sleeveless blouse hugged her breasts and slid over the generous mounds, tightening across the peaks with every breath she took.

His own breath collected in his lungs.

She seemed oblivious.

"Just imagine how romantic this will look by that circular fireplace you designed, Chase. Whoever buys the house will love it." She propped on one elbow, her gorgeous hair tumbling around her shoulders. "With firelight glowing all around, the golden grain of the wood will sparkle."

Just like her eyes.

"I'd put an antique clawfoot tub in the master suite."

For a nice warm bath in the evening. He'd dribble water over her breasts, then lick the moisture away with his tongue.

"And a Victorian dressing table for the lady with decorative perfume bottles arranged on a silver tray," she murmured.

He'd squirt the bottled fragrance behind her delicate earlobe, then nibble at the soft, sensitive column of her neck.

She continued, not bothering to wait for his reply. "A gentleman's wardrobe in the corner, a lady's lacy chemise and garter scattered at the foot of the bed."

The garter he'd just removed from her long legs. He'd trail kisses all the way up her thighs.

"So, what do you think? You think I should buy it?"

God, she was killing him.

"Chase?"