“Oooh,” she said on a slow moan. “This is perfect.”
And it was. Chase didn’t understand it, this inherent trust and understanding between them, nor did he question it. He figured it had everything to do with his decision to live life for himself, and her decision to do the same, if only for one night.
After they’d sated their desire once more, she fell asleep beside him, hair sprawled on the pillow, completely relaxed. He’d done that for her. Just as she’d done something for him. She’d helped him take his first step in setting himself free of responsibility and constraint.
Tomorrow they’d part ways, but not before he ordered them room service, shared breakfast, and feasted with her, and on her, one last time.
But when he awoke, courtesy of the sun streaming through the windows, bathing the room in light, his visitor was gone. Chase rubbed a hand over his eyes, wondering if he’d imagined the entire affair.
But her scent lingered in the air and he’d woken up aroused, ready to reach for her again. He hadn’t imagined her or the incredible night they’d shared. She’d left him with a damn good memory to take with him as he went after his dreams and started his new life.
But a part of him was disappointed they didn’t have more time. That same part of him wished they’d met at a different point in his life, under other circumstances. If he were a different person and hadn’t had to raise his brothers, he wondered if they would have stood a chance. He pinched the bridge of his nose, lost in ridiculous thoughts.
“Snap out of it,” he muttered. As he rose and headed for a hot shower, he couldn’t shake her from his mind.
Recalling the first time she’d tried to slip out on him, Chase forced himself to laugh now. She’d managed to avoid the awkward morning after, after all.
Chapter Three
Sloane returned home to her apartment around seven A.M. A quick shower and change and she was on her way back to the hotel where her life had been altered so drastically. And not just because she’d discovered Michael Carlisle wasn’t her father, but because she’d finally begun freeing herself from the constraints in her life. She’d allowed herself to act on her own impulse and desire. And in doing so, she’d found Chase.
A man with whom she’d spent just one night, but one she’d never forget. Sloane wasn’t into one-night stands. She didn’t have sex for sex’s sake. And she hadn’t planned to pick up a man at the bar last night, at least not until she’d looked into Chase’s slumberous blue eyes. With a glance, he’d compelled her to disregard her usual reserve. By ordering the same drink she had, despite the fact that he had a full beer sitting in front of him, he’d intrigued her. By offering to listen, he’d won her over. Whether or not that had been his intent, she didn’t care. He hadn’t struck her as a guy on the make, and after spending the night in his arms, she knew her first impression had been right.
Not only was he gorgeous, but he had an innate understanding of her needs. How else could she explain the champagne they’d never drunk? The way he hadn’t let her leave? And then there was the Karma involved. Fate had paired her with a man who, by his own admission, had always done the predictable thing. Lived his life for others. Like she had. Even not knowing more details, Sloane realized they had more in common than she’d have expected from a one-night stand.
But it was a one-night stand, and though she’d have her memories and fantasies to relive later, for now she had to put him behind her. More pressing family matters called to her now. But she wished Chase well on the start of his new life and knew she’d think of him often as she forged ahead, trying to decipher hers.
She paused at her parents’ hotel room door, unsure how to handle this confrontation. Her father would be in last-minute meetings and reviewing his speech, but Madeline would be inside.
Her stepmother was a beautiful woman, both inside and out, and with her normally calm demeanor, she was the perfect politician’s wife. She’d also been a wonderful mother, stepping in upon Jacqueline’s death, when Sloane was eight. To Madeline’s credit, she’d never treated Sloane any differently than her real daughters—Sloane’s twin sisters, Eden and Dawne—and Sloane adored her in return.
Which made the lie even more difficult for Sloane to understand. She shook her head and shored up her courage, knocking on the door, which swung open within seconds.
“Where have you been?” Madeline grabbed Sloane’s hand and pulled her into a motherly hug. “When you didn’t show up for dinner last night, your father and I were worried sick.”
So much for her stepmother’s calm demeanor, Sloane thought as she squeezed her back. Although Madeline was dressed for the press conference, looking very Jacqueline Kennedyesque with her dark bobbed hair and beautifully made-up face, her concern was etched in the lines around her eyes.
Despite having good reason for ditching last night’s family dinner, Sloane felt guilty for making her worry. “I’m sorry.” She twisted her fingers together, searching for the right words. “But I needed to be alone. To think.”
“About?” Madeline brushed Sloane’s hair off her shoulder, the way she used to do when Sloane was a little girl. “You can talk to me.”
Sloane nodded. “I think we’d better sit.” She followed her stepmother to the sofa in the outer area of the suite, the same room in which she’d heard Frank and Robert talking last night. “Are we alone?”
Madeline nodded. “Your father’s meeting with Frank in his room and the twins went shopping.”
“I hope you gave them a money limit,” Sloane said, laughing. Typical seventeen-year-old girls, her sisters loved to shop, and when they were at home in upstate New York, they constantly grumbled about the lack of decent malls.
“I gave them cash and confiscated the credit cards.” Madeline’s eyes twinkled with laughter but sobered quickly. “Tell me what’s wrong.”
The facade of joking fell away. Butterflies rose in Sloane’s stomach and she drew a deep breath. “I showed up for dinner last night. I was half an hour early and you and Dad weren’t back from shopping yet.” She clenched and unclenched her fists, fighting the nausea and the fear. “Frank was with Robert and they were arguing about a threat to Dad’s campaign.”
Madeline sat up straighter, her eyes wide and focused. “What kind of threat?”
“The worst kind. A personal one.” Sloane bit down on the inside of her cheek. It was harder to repeat the words than she’d thought. “A man named Samson claims to be my biological father.”
“Oh damn.”
Sloane’s eyes opened wide. Madeline Carlisle didn’t curse. Sloane did. So did her dad, as did Eden and Dawne, but Madeline believed someone in the family had to set a proper example. Her cursing wasn’t a good sign.
“So it’s true?” Sloane asked in a small voice.
Madeline grasped onto Sloane’s clenched hands and held on tight. “Yes, honey. It’s true.”
Sloane hadn’t realized it, but in her heart, she’d held out hope that Madeline would deny the claim. Instead, she’d acknowledged her worst fears. She fought back the lump in her throat, determined to get through this without falling apart.