Black Gold by Ruby Laska Page A

to be played with."
    Her eyes went wide; even in the dark of the parking lot he could see the flash of blue depths. "I wasn't playing with you!"
    "Yeah? Well, you'll forgive my skepticism. You come up here trying to sign me and Sherry. Make some fool bet with your old boyfriend. Yeah, he told us all about it while you were in the restroom. I don't know, maybe this is some sort of twisted courtship thing between the two of you. I don't want to know. The balance tips toward him, so what do you do? You come out to my place and—and try to seduce me? So yeah, maybe tonight I thought I'd turn it back on you. Let you feel what it's like to lose control of a situation. Payback's a bitch, isn't it?"
    He was breathing hard, unable to stop himself even as her expression went from confused to astonished to stricken. Was it possible that he had it wrong? But then why would she kiss him? A woman like that had her pick of men—even in a town like Nashville, she would stand out. Lord knew he'd never seen a woman quite like her, with her dainty old-fashioned dresses failing to conceal a bombshell body, her long, thick eyelashes and red lips and that silky pale hair that couldn't seem to stay pinned up to save her life, pieces of it even now curving around her cheeks.
    Without thinking, he reached out and gently pushed the stray lock out of the way, tucking it behind her ear. His fingers grazed the curved edge of her ear, the tiny earring in her delicate lobe. He paused, touching the pearl and feeling her heat.
    She'd tried to make him think she wanted him. But he knew better. He wasn't the man for her. Carl Cash was her kind of man, a guy with polish and easy cash and a way with words. A slick guy, the one who made the other men in the room jealous, who snared the ladies with big gestures, like that two-hundred-dollar bottle of wine. The funny thing was that Chase's bank account was probably every bit as healthy as Carl's now. But Chase would never be the kind of man to show it off. He had finally found a quiet life, a life that suited him, and he was never again going to trade that serenity to try to be different for someone else. The way he'd spent his first eighteen years trying to be what his father wanted. And the next ten trying to prove himself.
    Now, he had nothing to prove and no one to prove it to. So why was he standing here, breathing in the honeysuckle scent of a woman who'd just as soon sell him out as give him the time of day? He wasn't signing with her. He wasn't signing with anyone. Sure, he'd manipulated the situation to give Sherry more time with Carl, but that was because he was damn sure going to make sure she was provided for. Carl was slick, but Chase had done a little research that afternoon on Jimmy's laptop, and he'd reassured himself that if Carl wanted to turn her into a star, he would. There were far fewer search results for Regina McCary than Carl Cash, and even though she had an impressive record for a newcomer and a few solid hits, he wasn't about to trust Sherry to anyone but a sure thing. And Chase would make sure that Harry was well taken care of; he'd head down to Nashville between hitches and make sure the boy was settling into school and making friends and treating his sister with respect.
    He had it all wrapped up.
    Which still begged the question—what was he doing here in this parking lot?
    "I think I'll walk home," he said, though he didn't budge.
    "You've got to be kidding. It's five miles from here."
    "It'll do me good. Clear my head."
    "You'll get hit by a car. You'll wind up in a ditch, bleeding out."
    "Aw, that would be a damn shame, wouldn't it? A whole potential revenue stream, taken too soon."
    She stamped her foot. "You have it all wrong."
    "Do I?" There was that anger again. He should be over it, over the pang of rejection just because he couldn't keep the attention of some pretty woman except as a budget line item. But he'd spent too many years as his father's liability to let it go