Bachelor CEO (McDaniels #1)

Chapter Eight

“I think that about wraps it up.”

Leroy set aside the stack of file folders.

Chase checked the time. His grandfather had promised at the start of the business meeting that they’d be finished by lunch, and he’d kept his word.

Leroy’s smile widened. “I believe this works, and no more transition is needed. Monday we’ll meet with the board and finalize everything.”

Chase organized the papers in front of him. Two days from now he would straighten his desk, forward his phone and e-mail and turn off the lights for a year.

“I’m thrilled you’ve caught on so quickly,”

Leroy told Miranda. “The board won’t have any issue with your taking over for Chase. I’ll still be running everything and I can assist you with whatever you don’t know.”

“Thank you.”

She bowed her head and stacked her own papers, then slid them inside her briefcase.

“I can’t resist my leftover meatloaf from last night, so maybe Chase could take you into Birchwood for lunch. There’s not much to eat here, unfortunately, and it’s almost time for my siesta.”

Leroy rose to his feet and Chase put the file folders into his grandfather’s briefcase. This was the last time he and his grandfather would complete this ritual for at least a year. Next weekend Miranda would bring the work Leroy had to address before Monday.

A hard lump formed in Chase’s throat, one he couldn’t swallow. When he’d expected to be named CEO and take over, he’d planned to spend Saturdays discussing the company with his grandfather. He’d be in charge, but Leroy would be there to help.

Chase had been looking forward to that transition. However, with the definitive click of the briefcase, he fulfilled his last duty, and his obligation to McDaniel ended.

Whatever this year of finding himself was about, it started now.

He glanced at Miranda. She’d done well today. She was perfect for the job. The fact that she fit him perfectly, as well, was something he’d have to forget after this weekend.

“You need to see Birchwood,”

Leroy was saying.

Chase could tell Miranda didn’t necessarily want to go to lunch with him, but since Leroy was insisting she learn the lay of the land, Chase knew she wouldn’t refuse.

“I’m ready when you are,”

he told her, taking advantage of his grandfather’s arm twisting. She hadn’t said a definite no last night, so there was still the possibility that something could happen between them. He wanted to see where that possibility led. “Say five minutes?”

“Okay.”

She rose and disappeared into the kitchen.

“You sure you’re fine with meatloaf sandwiches?”

Chase asked. “We could bring you something back.”

Leroy nodded. “I want to take a nap. I tossed and turned last night.”

Chase was immediately concerned. “You feeling okay?”

The older man gave a dismissive wave. “Fine. You can’t have a perfect sleep every night, especially at my age. This transition has weighed on me, as well.”

“I’m going quietly,”

Chase said.

Leroy’s shoulders sagged and his blue eyes didn’t sparkle like they usually did. “I know. To be honest, I wish you weren’t. It’s rather unlike you. I expected you to kick and scream the whole way.”

Chase frowned as Leroy walked into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator. His grandfather removed a plastic container. “I’ll talk to you later tonight. I’m going to eat in my room. Be sure to show Miranda the sights.”

“I will,”

Chase promised. He couldn’t help worrying about his grandfather, who’d been acting odd these past few days. Chase tried to brush the thoughts aside. They’d talk later, as Leroy had said. Miranda was coming downstairs and didn’t need to sense any of this stress. Chase met her at the bottom. “Ready?”

“As much as I’ll ever be.”

BIRCHWOOD WAS TINY—only five blocks wide. But it had a fantastic sandwich shop and Miranda enjoyed her lunch despite the tension between her and Chase.

She tried not to think about their discussion last night, but it was like an elephant in the room—impossible to ignore.

“Still want to go out on the water with me or have we been together enough?”

Chase asked on the drive back.

It was boating or reading, and she’d made a poor choice in the book she’d brought. It was supposed to be a thriller, but it always put her to sleep. “I like boating. Do you mind?”

“No. I wouldn’t have suggested it otherwise,”

Chase said. “Do you want to drive?”

Miranda laughed, and some of the tension between them dissipated. “Absolutely.”

It turned into an idyllic day. Chase didn’t try to kiss her, but focused on teaching her all about boat operation. They toured the entire lake, going behind the big island, where the shoreline’s shape resembled the lower half of Africa. Down at the tip, a channel narrower than the one leading to Balsam Lake led to the last lake in the chain, Red Cedar.

“Wow,”

she said. Not ready to negotiate the shallows there, she let Chase maneuver the runabout through, and suddenly they popped out from under the trees into a rectangular lake not even a thousand feet across at its widest point.

“The entire lake has only four houses on it,”

Chase said. “This is another good place to water-ski because it has very little boat traffic. And the trees block the wind, making the water as smooth as glass.”

Chase returned through the passage, and once back on Lone Pine, opened the throttle, letting the boat cruise at a higher speed. The ride was exhilarating, yet Miranda’s excitement slipped away. Tonight was her last night with Chase.

She’d never felt so conflicted. Should she say yes to what could quite possibly be the best sex of her life, or say no and maintain the status quo? Either way, two things didn’t change. A year was a long time, and at the end of it, Chase planned to return, stopping her ascent to the top spot.

The last thought rankled so much that she climbed out of the boat without waiting for his help. She took the rope he tossed her, and looped it over a post, mooring the bow. “Thanks for taking me.”

“You’re welcome.”

Chase busied himself securing the stern and putting out the bumpers.

This man, who made her knees weak with a kiss, was leaving for good. Overwhelmed by her feelings, Miranda decided to make a quick escape. “I’ll catch you at dinner. I’m going to go clean up and check my e-mails.”

“Sure,”

Chase said.

And with that, she fled.

AS MUCH AS HE WANTED TO, Chase refused to turn around and eye her sexy backside. He didn’t want to watch her walk away from him.

Hell, they were two consenting adults. Maybe he should have made love to her last night instead of being chivalrous. He would have gotten her out of his system. She hadn’t been protesting. A year was plenty of time to put any residual awkwardness behind them.

But he wanted her to make the decision. He had to respect her need for space.

He stepped onto the dock. Here he was in paradise and he’d never been so frustrated.

He had some extra tennis shoes in the boathouse. A long run on the treadmill would do him a world of good. He had time to get in at least an hour’s workout. Perfect.

LEROY WATCHED AS CHASE came out of the boathouse. Leroy had woken up from his nap just before their return. He pressed his fingers to his temples. No use.

He was as stressed as his grandson.

It had been easy to see the tension in Chase’s shoulders, and his disappearance into the boathouse meant he was running. That’s what Chase did to cope. He exercised. He pushed his body to the point of exhaustion. When his parents had died, Chase had also turned his attention to work. He’d focused on his siblings. He’d wanted to know what needed to be done, and then he did it.

Leroy had wanted Chase to yell or scream or rage, or even cry. But he never had, at least not in front of anyone. His siblings had been able to let the tears out. Cecilia had cried herself to sleep for three months.

But Chase always kept his emotions guarded like a fortress. Miranda Craig had cracked his armor; Leroy could tell that much. But Chase was being stoic and chivalrous.

Leroy cursed under his breath and stepped off his sunporch, back into his suite. He wanted his grandson to be alive. To truly feel—and not just some fleeting passion with those women he usually dated. It was as if Chase pursued the wrong type just so he didn’t have to emotionally invest himself. That was one reason Leroy had decided on this sabbatical. He wanted Chase to find what was missing in his life. Stripped of work, Chase would have to face himself.

“Damn,”

Leroy said, hitting the top of his dresser for emphasis. If his wife were around she’d immediately chastise him. Leroy let the memory bring a smile to his lips. It was bittersweet, but he believed he’d see her again. It just wasn’t time.

First Leroy had Chase to worry about. At the other end of the house a door slammed, indicating that his grandson had arrived inside. Leroy sank down in his chair. Too bad he couldn’t have seen into the future. If he’d known how Miranda would make Chase’s skin prickle, Leroy would’ve hired her years ago, and would never have needed to send his grandson away.

If only Chase would fight to stay…

But family loyalty and doing the right thing came first for Chase. He wouldn’t go against Leroy’s wishes.

A year was but a grain of sand in the hourglass of time, Leroy reminded himself. Still, he couldn’t help second-guessing himself.

THEIR DINNER DESTINATION, Marstall’s Lodge Resort, could only be reached by boat. Housed on the twenty-seven acre island in the center of Lone Pine Lake, Marstall’s Lodge was a former lumber baron’s palatial summer home now open to visitors.

“This place is as old as me,”

Leroy announced. He’d braved the resort’s ferry and walked up the ramp to the main building. “Of course, they’ve updated it.”

“But they preserved it well,”

Leroy’s brother, Harvey, said. He reached out a hand to assist his wife. “I helped them get it on the national historic registry. I’m their lawyer.”

“You lived here?”

Miranda asked. She’d thought they lived in Florida.

“For a while. Outside Bloomington, Minnesota. I met Laverne one summer after Leroy found this place, and that was the end of Chenille for me.”

“We retired to Naples,”

Laverne explained. “My father was in charge of the construction crew that rehabbed Lone Pine Lodge. It was in pretty bad shape when Leroy bought it.”

“We fixed it up right,”

Leroy said.

The brick walkway brought them to the main doors of Marstall’s Lodge, and they climbed the steps to the stone patio.

Like Lone Pine, the place was made entirely of wood. The logs had been left exposed, including the beams that spanned the peaked ceiling. Light fell from wooden chandeliers that didn’t have a hint of crystal. Mounted deer heads lined the walls and the furniture was rustic. The massive stone fireplace reminded Miranda of Lone Pine’s, only bigger.

She looked down at her sundress, and mentally sighed. Most people were in casual shirts and pants.

The bell she’d seen earlier, hanging in its wooden tower, sounded, and soon every table in the massive room had filled with guests. The McDaniels’ round table for five was comfortable, but Miranda sat next to Chase, whose leg kept brushing against hers. And when she passed him the butter tray their fingers touched, sending a shiver down her spine.

“So, Miranda, tell me a little about yourself,”

Laverne said. Grateful for the diversion, she told them the edited and condensed version of her history she’d long ago perfected.

“I think it’s wonderful that this is your dream job,”

Laverne stated.

“I agree,”

Harvey said. “So, Chase, we hear you’re taking a vacation. Where are you headed?”

“Think I’ll go west. Colorado, Montana, Wyoming, one of those.”

“All good choices. You can do some fly-fishing,”

Harvey said.

“Probably won’t catch anything,”

Leroy teased.

“I might,”

Chase replied. “Maybe our curse is only for Minnesota lakes.”

“Nope. I never catch fish anywhere,”

Leroy said.

Everyone laughed, and Miranda marveled at the easy way the family got along. She knew Chase was bitter, but he never let it show. She awarded him some brownie points for that. Living at her aunt’s had always been tense. Miranda doubted she would handle the family interference as well as he had.

“I can’t eat another thing,”

she protested when the dessert tray came by.

“Take a walk after dinner to work off the calories. You have to take her to the gazebo, Chase,”

Laverne suggested.

“I doubt Miranda wants a stroll.”

Since Chase’s leg was pressed up against hers, Miranda thought she might be better off going home and taking a cold shower. “It’s okay. Chase has already played tour guide once today.”

“The island is gorgeous. You really must see the grounds while you’re here,”

Laverne insisted.

What was it with this family and tours? Miranda started to wonder if there was a conspiracy to get her and Chase alone together.

“Besides, Chase won’t mind,”

Leroy said, as if his statement settled matters.

Miranda knew Chase did mind. He’d grown tense beside her. She had no idea what he was thinking, but the gazebo didn’t sound like a safe place for two people trying to keep their hands to themselves.

But he must have realized there was no arguing with the older McDaniels. “I’d be happy to show you,”

he said. “Shall we forgo dessert?”

He was already getting to his feet.

“Don’t forget to take a peek at the rose garden, too,”

Laverne added. “It’s on the way.”

“I’m sorry you have to keep taking me places,”

Miranda told him as they left the dining hall. “I’m not sure why your grandfather is being so stubborn.”

“I think it’s because he knows I hit on you once.”

She stopped dead. “What?”

Chase took her arm and gently propelled her forward, down a stone walkway through the flower gardens. She was so furious at his admission that she saw nothing but the path ahead. They reached a wrought-iron bridge that covered a ten-foot-wide inlet from the lake.

“The island is really two parts, but the water here is so shallow the only craft that can get through is a canoe. A long time ago it might have been wider, but it’s filled in over the years.”

“I couldn’t care less about canoes. What do you mean, you told him you hit on me?”

Chase shrugged. “He asked. I told him about the first day we met. It’s the truth, after all.”

“Oh my God.”

Miranda tried to process the implications as they crossed the bridge. “Don’t tell me he’s matchmaking.”

“Quite possibly. With Leroy you never know.”

“I don’t believe this. Is that why you keep kissing me?”

Chase paused and put a hand on her arm. “Trust me, my grandfather has no influence over what I want to do with you. And you seem to enjoy it.”

She did. Which was the problem. Knowing Leroy knew about her and Chase… it was embarrassing. She didn’t want to be seen as unprofessional.

The path changed from stones to gravel and they began walking up hill to the northernmost point, where a square stone structure awaited exploration. The door had long since vanished, as had the glass in the windows, but inside there was a fireplace and a small picnic table. They were about twenty feet above the lake level but surrounded by trees, which blocked most of the light.

“This is it—the gazebo. There’s not much to see, I’m afraid. The view’s better from the lawn. Shall we go?”

Miranda wasn’t listening. She’d been captivated. Didn’t Chase see how perfect this place was? This was where you’d spend lazy summer afternoons with a picnic basket and a book. She went inside and ran her fingers over the weathered stones. She couldn’t help herself. The building called to her spirit. “You could really let your imagination run wild in a place like this.”

“Yeah,”

Chase said. He sounded bored.

She whirled to face him, where he stood in the doorway.

“Oh come on. Didn’t you ever play make-believe when you were a kid?”

“When I was six.”

She planted her hands on her hips. “And you tell me I never relax. I could bring a book here and hide out. This is the perfect place for make-believe. If I was six I’d dream of princes and such.”

“We’re not six,”

Chase pointed out.

“So? That doesn’t make it wrong. All girls want to be princesses at some point in their lives. Even if we plan on saving ourselves.”

He took a step forward. “Guys don’t dream about being princes.”

“So what would you be? If you were six?”

He thought for a second. “Guys would rather be pirates or swashbucklers. Cowboys maybe. Something boisterous and rowdy. Rough-and-tumble.”

“Then this could be where you hide your pirate loot. Or it could be your lookout. I bet in the winter you can see the whole lake.”

“In the winter the lake is frozen solid. People bring out their ice huts and fish. It’s not that glamorous.”

She ignored his derision. “Even better. You could pretend they were your army, out camping. I used to make up stories all the time for my little sister, every night before she went to bed. She’d probably like this old building as much as I do. She collects antiques.”

Chase shoved his hands into his pockets. “You’ll have to invite her for a visit. Leroy will let you bring a guest, and I’m sure she’ll love the lake.”

“I will, if she’s not too busy. Her schedule rivals mine. She’s even more determined than I am to make something of herself.”

Chase shifted his weight. “So tell me, what would a pirate do if this was his hideaway?”

“Count his treasure?”

she answered, turning her back as she checked out graffiti someone had etched into the picnic table, so small you almost couldn’t see it unless you were looking for it: L.L. + H.M. Forever.

“Do you think I could be a pirate?”

Chase stepped closer and her body reacted to the undercurrent in his words. He was right behind her. She turned around.

He was hotter than both Johnny Depp and Orlando Bloom in the Pirates of the Caribbean trilogy, and unlike the characters they played, Chase was very real. And male. And, as always, larger than life. She had the urge to unbutton his shirt and run her hands over his chest. “Would you plunder things?”

“Oh yeah.”

His voice was low and husky, his gaze locked on to her lips. Her skin prickled with heightened anticipation. They were totally alone, where no one could see or find them. “If I were a pirate there are certainly things I’d like to plunder.”

She sucked in a breath. All Chase had to do was insinuate, and she wanted him. If he kissed her, she’d be a goner. She knew she should resist, but couldn’t bring herself to do so.

“Like what?”

she asked, giving him the opening they both wanted.

“This.”

He dipped his head, his mouth finding hers. The kiss mesmerized Miranda, and Chase pulled her to him, hauling her up and seating her on the picnic table so he could stand between her legs.

His arms slid around her waist and his tongue dipped inside. She threaded her fingers into his hair as he moved one hand to her breast. He ran his thumb across the tight bud, and she wished they didn’t have so many clothes on.

“I want you,”

Chase growled, and as he pressed between her thighs, she could feel how much. He shifted, rubbing against her.

“Oh.”

All she had to do was say yes.

He was still kissing her, and the light faded further, casting the gazebo in shadows. She felt heady and sexy. Wanton. The only place she’d ever made love was in a bed.

He hiked her dress up and moved his hand beneath the scrap of lace that was her panties. He continued to kiss her as his fingers worked to give her the release her body craved. He held her tight with one arm as she bucked and whimpered, then finally shattered.

Afterwards, he readjusted her clothing, kissed her gently and held her as her breathing slowly returned to normal. “Good fantasy?”

She didn’t have words. She didn’t need any. She simply nodded. Tonight had only just begun.

THE SUN WAS ALMOST GONE when Chase and Miranda returned from their walk.

Leroy sipped his decaffeinated coffee as he rested in one of the Adirondack chairs on the back lawn, chatting with Harvey and Laverne. The area was well lit by citronella torches, making it an ideal place to watch the sunset.

“Sit a spell,”

he said as Chase and Miranda approached. “The ferry isn’t back yet.”

Miranda sank into a chair as the final slivers of gold dipped below the horizon.

“How was your walk?”

Laverne asked.

“Great,”

she answered.

“Do they still have that old picnic table up there? Harvey carved our initials in it long ago.”

Miranda’s face colored. “It’s still there.”

Leroy resisted a chuckle. Something had happened, he was sure of it. Then he sobered. Chase had disappeared into Marstall’s Lodge. Maybe whatever had occurred hadn’t been a good thing…

Heidi would have known what to do. Leroy wished he had her wisdom in matters of the heart.

The bell rang, signaling the ferry’s arrival.

Leroy rose to his feet. “Time to go.”

BY THE TIME the group returned to Lone Pine, Miranda should have been calm. No one could tell what she and Chase had just done. And she wanted more. She was damned if she made love to Chase and damned if she didn’t. But her answer was yes.

She’d risk it.

She studied the lines of his face, watched him kiss his great-aunt and shake his great-uncle’s hand. In a year, Chase might come home from his sabbatical married.

Miranda gazed at the full moon, visible through the great room windows. One night. Tonight was all they had, and no man had ever made her feel the way he did.

Would it make her less of a woman or an executive if she gave in to her desires, the ones she’d been fighting ever since she met him?

She grasped at the first idea that came to mind once Leroy left the room. “I want to take the boat out. How about we go change and meet each other on the dock in ten minutes?”

Chase studied her. “Okay.”

Miranda’s feet had never moved so fast. She hurried to her room, changed and took a blanket from the armoire. Then she went into the kitchen and grabbed a bottle of merlot from a cabinet. She found a plastic trash bag, wrapped the wine in the blanket and stuffed both inside. Then she tossed in two plastic cups and a corkscrew and headed for the water. This time she would be the one who was early.

She placed the items in the back of the boat and went to the boathouse, where the keys were stored. Chase had given her the code for the lockbox, and she took out the squishy, floatable key chain reading “Bud’s Boats.”

Hearing a familiar high-pitched whining sound, she located the bug spray. She didn’t want mosquitoes ruining their late-night rendezvous.

Miranda doused herself with repellent. Luckily, the stuff didn’t smell bad.

“Good idea,”

Chase said, reaching for the canister when he arrived. Then he climbed into the boat and took a seat. “Okay, this is your show. Get us out of here.”

She hadn’t planned this far. “Me?”

He grinned. “Yeah. Untie us and start us up.”

She’d watched him, so she knew what to do. She’d always been a fast learner. She was super aware of his scrutiny as she backed away from the dock and got the boat out onto open water.

When she exhaled a sigh of relief, Chase laughed. “You did good. Relax.”

“I’m trying,”

Miranda replied. She headed for the closest little island, which someone had nicknamed Dill Pickle because of its shape.

“Watch the sandbar,”

Chase warned as she drew closer.

“I thought we’d drop anchor here. Maybe go sit on the island. I saw a campfire spot when we went by this afternoon.”

“This time of year there’s probably no wood,”

Chase said.

“That’s okay. I figured we could just sit. I brought a blanket.”

In the moonlight she could see Chase’s lips twitch. “You and me on a blanket sounds dangerous.”

“I’ve been thinking,”

she murmured. “A lot can happen in a year. You could come back married. Or not come back at all.”

“Doubtful on both counts. I’ve already told you, I’ll return in a year and take over. Here. Let me get this boat moored.”

Miranda moved aside and Chase dropped anchor. “The water’s about a foot deep here. We’ll have to wade a little.”

“That’s fine.”

She’d worn shorts and flip-flops on purpose. They were only a few feet away from the beach.

Chase slid his shoes off and dropped them on the floor of the boat. “Where’s the blanket?”

“In that bag back there.”

“Got it. Let’s go.”

He clambered out and began to wade to the island. “The rocks are a little slick, so watch out.”

“I’m fine,”

Miranda called, lowering herself down and feeling the mossy bottom beneath her toes. She reached the shore and climbed up to the little clearing. Sand clung to her wet feet.

Chase had spread out the blanket and found the bottle of wine. He held up the cups and corkscrew in one hand, merlot in the other. “Milady?”

“It seemed like the right thing to grab at the time. I don’t know. I’m improvising.”

Chase sat on the blanket and opened the bottle. He handed her a cup of wine as she settled beside him. He took a drink. “So tell me, Miranda Craig, are you trying to seduce me?”

She sipped her wine. “Yes.”

“You usually play life safe.”

“I always will. Except for tonight.”

She set her cup down. “You only want me. Nothing more, right? You aren’t trying to stop me from taking over?”

“No, but I will, when I return.”

“In a year.”

She clung to that.

A year was a long time. At least that was how she rationalized her decision, to let passion rather than sensibility reign.

“For once I just want to feel. To know,”

she told him.

Chase set his own cup down, wedging the plastic in the sand. “So what exactly do you want from me?”

The moment of truth. Once she said the words, there would be no going back. “I want you to make love to me.”