pregnant.
Charity died when Chase was eight, killed in a rodeo accident. Apparently she was
a champion barrel racer. Charlie didn’t want her to go back to it after Chase was born
but Charity was strong-willed. On Chase’s eighth birthday, she was in an event. She
laid her horse out too far, it fell, pinning her beneath it and crushing her. By the time the
ambulance got her to the hospital it was too late.
Charlie blamed Chase because when Charity had asked what he wanted for his
birthday he said he wanted her to win the race for him. He loved watching her ride and
was so proud every time she won. They were inseparable and had an unspoken
language all their own, like souls joined beyond mortal comprehension.
According to the brothers, Chase blamed himself and had never forgiven himself
for her death. Upon his sixteenth birthday he petitioned the court to change his name
from Chase Hawks Russell to simply Chase Hawks, his mother’s maiden name. Charlie
did not oppose the change. There was a rift as wide as the desert between he and Chase
and neither of them knew how to bridge the gap.
Charlie had remarried a year after Charity’s death to a woman from a wealthy
family, DeAnna Morgan. She and Charlie had trouble conceiving, and she lost three
60
Chase ‘n’ Ana
babies, a year apart, all before full term. They had been married five years when the
twins were born. Five years later, she died giving birth to Caleb.
Charlie had never remarried after that. The boys had all been raised by Clara
Mahoney, an Irish-American woman who had gone to school with Charlie and had
come to work for him and Charity when Chase was born. It was clear that all the
brothers, including Chase, loved her like a mother and referred to her Mama C.
Ana could not help but think how ironic it was. For all their wealth and power, the
Russell family had seen more than its share of tragedy and heartbreak. Her own heart
went out to all of them, most particularly Chase.
She let herself out of the house and went to the pasture to sit on the fence rail and
stare up at the sky. The smell of the new body products Chase had purchased for her
wafted around her. It was a sensual dark smell, like night-blooming flowers, humidity
and stolen kisses. She loved it.
Chase had seemed embarrassed by the gifts when he gave them to her. She had
been touched beyond measure that he would take the time and energy to try and find a
scent for her. That he had selected something so blatantly sensual and romantic thrilled
her.
But then everything about Chase Hawks thrilled her. She felt like the old country
song, that spoke of a woman’s soul being invaded by a man and her losing all control,
becoming a prisoner to him. And sure enough, she was. Even sitting here alone under
the majesty of the night sky, she was a prisoner to him, enveloped in the scent he’d
branded her with, victim to the wanting he evoked in her, captive to a love she’d never
expected to feel.
Chase walked up behind her as quiet as a breath, put his hands on either side of her
waist and lay his cheek against the bare skin of her back where the thin cotton shift
drooped low. He inhaled deeply. The scent he’d bought smelled nothing on her like it
did in the store. Now it was a heady mixture that spoke to him of sweat-tangled sheets,
damp skin and the smell of flowers drifting in through an open window in a lush
tropical retreat. Sweet, seductive and just a little dangerous.
“Hmmm.” He kissed her skin. “You smell good.”
“Thank you again,” she said softly. “I can’t believe you did that.”
“You like it, don’t you?” Suddenly that was very important to him.
“I love it.” She executed a nimble maneuver so that she was facing him, the vee of
her legs at the level of his chest, completely uninhibited of the fact that she wore
nothing beneath her shift and the position offered him an intimate view of her sex. “I’ve
never had anything
Charity died when Chase was eight, killed in a rodeo accident. Apparently she was
a champion barrel racer. Charlie didn’t want her to go back to it after Chase was born
but Charity was strong-willed. On Chase’s eighth birthday, she was in an event. She
laid her horse out too far, it fell, pinning her beneath it and crushing her. By the time the
ambulance got her to the hospital it was too late.
Charlie blamed Chase because when Charity had asked what he wanted for his
birthday he said he wanted her to win the race for him. He loved watching her ride and
was so proud every time she won. They were inseparable and had an unspoken
language all their own, like souls joined beyond mortal comprehension.
According to the brothers, Chase blamed himself and had never forgiven himself
for her death. Upon his sixteenth birthday he petitioned the court to change his name
from Chase Hawks Russell to simply Chase Hawks, his mother’s maiden name. Charlie
did not oppose the change. There was a rift as wide as the desert between he and Chase
and neither of them knew how to bridge the gap.
Charlie had remarried a year after Charity’s death to a woman from a wealthy
family, DeAnna Morgan. She and Charlie had trouble conceiving, and she lost three
60
Chase ‘n’ Ana
babies, a year apart, all before full term. They had been married five years when the
twins were born. Five years later, she died giving birth to Caleb.
Charlie had never remarried after that. The boys had all been raised by Clara
Mahoney, an Irish-American woman who had gone to school with Charlie and had
come to work for him and Charity when Chase was born. It was clear that all the
brothers, including Chase, loved her like a mother and referred to her Mama C.
Ana could not help but think how ironic it was. For all their wealth and power, the
Russell family had seen more than its share of tragedy and heartbreak. Her own heart
went out to all of them, most particularly Chase.
She let herself out of the house and went to the pasture to sit on the fence rail and
stare up at the sky. The smell of the new body products Chase had purchased for her
wafted around her. It was a sensual dark smell, like night-blooming flowers, humidity
and stolen kisses. She loved it.
Chase had seemed embarrassed by the gifts when he gave them to her. She had
been touched beyond measure that he would take the time and energy to try and find a
scent for her. That he had selected something so blatantly sensual and romantic thrilled
her.
But then everything about Chase Hawks thrilled her. She felt like the old country
song, that spoke of a woman’s soul being invaded by a man and her losing all control,
becoming a prisoner to him. And sure enough, she was. Even sitting here alone under
the majesty of the night sky, she was a prisoner to him, enveloped in the scent he’d
branded her with, victim to the wanting he evoked in her, captive to a love she’d never
expected to feel.
Chase walked up behind her as quiet as a breath, put his hands on either side of her
waist and lay his cheek against the bare skin of her back where the thin cotton shift
drooped low. He inhaled deeply. The scent he’d bought smelled nothing on her like it
did in the store. Now it was a heady mixture that spoke to him of sweat-tangled sheets,
damp skin and the smell of flowers drifting in through an open window in a lush
tropical retreat. Sweet, seductive and just a little dangerous.
“Hmmm.” He kissed her skin. “You smell good.”
“Thank you again,” she said softly. “I can’t believe you did that.”
“You like it, don’t you?” Suddenly that was very important to him.
“I love it.” She executed a nimble maneuver so that she was facing him, the vee of
her legs at the level of his chest, completely uninhibited of the fact that she wore
nothing beneath her shift and the position offered him an intimate view of her sex. “I’ve
never had anything
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