Nate woke with a start, the familiar nightmare jolting him into awareness. His breath sawed in and out of his chest. A sheen of sweat beaded his skin. The deafening thunder of mortar shells exploding pinged around inside of his brain, and he gave his head a violent shake as though it would dislodge the memory that would live with him until the day he died.
There was no fucking way he was going to get through the day. Meetings with his dad’s lawyers and his board of directors and then a family meeting with his brothers so they could discuss Miranda and what in the hell they were going to do to keep her pestering ass off their backs. He’d be a basket case by dinner and everyone would see firsthand what Nate had known all along: that he wasn’t even close to having his shit together and probably never would.
He needed a distraction from his own goddamned thoughts and memories. Something to take the edge off …
Nate reached for the piece of hotel notepad paper and stared at the number scrawled across it. It had been a couple of days since his one-night stand with Chloe and he couldn’t stop thinking about her. She’d left the next morning while he was still asleep, which usually sent a pretty clear message. But then he’d found her number scribbled on the notepad with her name below it.
Relationships weren’t really Nate’s thing. He used sex as a distraction. A form of self-therapy to keep him level. One-nighters and casual encounters with no strings attached got the job done. He hadn’t even gotten Chloe’s last name and that’s how he liked it. Hell, he wouldn’t have needed her first name to have fucked her that night. They’d had a good time, parted ways, and that should have been the end of it. Chloe was different, though. Her confidence, her brazen passion, and the fact that she was unashamed of wanting pleasure heated Nate’s blood. He’d violate his one-time rule for her. He had to have her again.
Nate grabbed his cell from the bedside table and dialed her number.
“Thank you for calling the Youth Sports Foundation of Dallas. How may I direct your call?”
He pulled the phone away from his ear and compared the number to the one scribbled on the hotel notepad. “Is Chloe there?”
A pregnant pause answered. “Can I tell her who’s calling?”
“Nate Christensen.”
“Oh!” The receptionist’s tone perked up instantly. “Just a moment please.”
Her reaction was one of the reasons why he hated giving out his full name to people. He was immediately connected to his family’s—well, his dad’s—money and clout. Even in basic, they’d gone easy on him. Until Nate developed an attitude that gave the drill instructors no choice but to go even harder on him. Some frilly top 40 hit played through the receiver as he waited.
“This is Chloe Benson.”
Nate found himself smiling at her professional tone. As though she didn’t know who was on the other line and the dirty things he’d whispered in her ear only a couple of days ago. “I want to see you.”
“I’m sorry, who is this?”
He heard the smile in her voice and it stirred something in his chest, not to mention his cock. “You know who this is. I want to see you. Today.”
“I don’t know…” she said wistfully. “Usually when a guy waits longer than a day to call me, I write him off. I’ve got a pretty full schedule today.”
“So do I,” he said. “Doesn’t mean I’m not willing to move a few things around. I’ll order room service.”
“Oh, will you? You think that’s enough to get me to come over?”
“No,” he said simply. “You’ll do it because of the way your body trembles when I make you come.”
She let out a rush of breath and that whisper of sound was enough to make Nate hard as stone.
“Eight o’clock.” She cleared the breathiness from her voice. “I have a late meeting tonight.”
Before Nate could respond, she hung up. He tossed his cell to the mattress beside him. He’d dreaded the trip to Dallas. Didn’t know how he’d get through the next couple of weeks. But thanks to his feisty little eavesdropper, there was a light at the end of his very bleak tunnel.
His? Not even close. But maybe he could make her his for a few days at least.
A knock came at the door and Nate took stock of what was going on down south before he made the decision to answer the door. He wasn’t interested in dealing with company while his cock was flying at full mast.
He opened the door to find Carter waiting in the hallway, his shoulder propped against the wall. “Jesus, you’re just now getting up?” Without waiting for an answer he plowed into the room leaving Nate to stare after him. “We’re meeting with the lawyers in a half hour.”
“I told you, you don’t have to go. I can handle it.” Christ, did everyone in the family think he was incompetent? “Where are the girls?”
“Babysitter. And I know I don’t have to go. I want to go. If anything to convince you not to hand off the money you deserve to a deceitful viper who’ll be moving on to her next seventy-year-old fat cat before the year is up.”
Nate snorted. “If I’d wanted this life, I would have gotten my MBA.”
“You wanted what we all wanted, to get the hell away from him. The business has nothing to do with it.”
Nate didn’t know the first thing about being an oil magnate. Their dad had coveted his company. Put it before his wife, his kids, everything. Byron hadn’t wanted his sons to go into the family business. He’d wanted them to go out and make their own fortunes and to keep their hands off of his. “Honestly, I still can’t believe he left us any of it.”
Carter laughed. “Who the hell else was he going to give it to? Miranda?”
Nate shrugged. “I don’t want this life. I like my house. Where I live and what I’m doing.”
“You don’t have to live the life to take the money,” Carter said. “Why don’t you wait to hear what the lawyers and the board of directors have to say before you start handing out checks?”
Nate stretched his neck from side to side. Eight o’clock was a long damned time away. He didn’t know if he’d make it without blowing off some steam. “Yeah. All right.” He could placate Carter for now. But his mind was made up. He doubted any of them would be able to change it.
“Good. Now get dressed. We’re late.”
* * *
“You must have made an impression.”
Chloe looked up to find her assistant Hailey smiling at her. “It took him two days to call. Somehow, I don’t think that falls under making an impression.”
“He called. It doesn’t matter how long it took. You’ll have a big fat check in your hands in no time.”
Chloe doubted that. She’d showed up at Byron Christensen’s ritzy memorial service in the hopes of beating the rush of people bound to show up at Nate’s door with their hands out. She’d had a game plan: Find a way to introduce herself. Make a case for the foundation. And pray to god that Nate’s generosity and compassion outweighed his father’s. Instead, she’d fallen into bed with him.
“This is a disaster.”
Hailey clucked her tongue at Chloe. “Rome wasn’t built in a day.”
“Was it built in a couple of weeks?”
How could Nate possibly take her seriously now that they’d slept together? How could she even broach the subject of the foundation with him? At best, she’d come off as a slimy opportunist. At worst, a high-priced hooker.
“You’ve already managed to secure a hundred thousand dollars, Chloe. That’s not small potatoes.”
“A hundred thousand might as well be a hundred bucks in comparison to what we need.”
“This is a pessimism-free zone. Your rules, not mine. That sort of talk isn’t allowed.”
It was true that Chloe encouraged positivity at the office. They dealt with at-risk kids who grew up with next to nothing and a good attitude was essential for doing their jobs. It was tough to keep her head up though, especially when the future of the foundation was so bleak. She had a couple of weeks left to raise three million dollars in operating funds. It took a fortune to keep their heads above water, and they’d lost the support of several benefactors over the past year. The foundation was Chloe’s baby. A chance for her to do some good in the world. Giving an opportunity to these kids, providing coaches, and facilities, and equipment—making their lives carefree if even for a moment—meant the world to her. She’d do anything to save the foundation.
Including sleeping with Nate Christensen? What a nightmare.
Only … it wasn’t. Nate had been on her mind to the point of distraction since their night together. Her blood heated with the memories and chills broke out on her flesh every time she thought about the dirty things he’d whispered in her ear. His intensity drove her crazy and it made her wonder what it would take to break through his tough exterior and really get to know the man inside.
“Heeelllooo? Earth to Chloe…?”
She shook herself from her reverie to find Hailey studying her with a knowing smirk.
“Whatcha thinkin’ about?” Hailey asked in a singsong voice.
“Nothing. Money. And whether or not a bank heist is an option.”
“Oh, you’re thinking about money all right. But more to the point, I think you’re thinking about a certain new-moneyed Dallas hottie.” Was it that obvious? Chloe swallowed down a groan. “And I bet he’s thinking about you, too.”
Chloe’s cheeks flushed. “Why would you say that?”
“He was confused when I answered the phone,” Hailey said. “Like he wasn’t expecting to get a business. And he asked for Chloe. Not Miss Benson, not Chloe Benson. Hardly professional.”
She hadn’t given him her last name. God, she was an idiot. A horny, sex-starved fool. “We didn’t get a chance to talk much.” Oh, they talked all right. Just not about the foundation. “It was his dad’s memorial service. I got cold feet mid-ambush.”
“You’re seeing him again, though. That’s why he called, right?”
Somehow, Chloe doubted they’d be discussing business in his hotel room tonight. “Yeah, we’re meeting at eight.”
“So, put your people skills to work and talk that boy out of his millions!” Hailey exclaimed. “You can’t give up now, Chloe. This foundation means so much to so many people. Just go for it.”
That was the problem. She’d gone for it and then some. “In case I don’t show up in the morning with a big fat check, can you make a few more cold calls today? I heard that the Blackwell Foundation might be looking to expand their charitable ventures.”
“Will do.” Hailey pulled out her tablet and scribbled something on the screen with the stylus. “I have a couple more leads I haven’t explored yet, too. None of them are whales, but I bet I could shake them down for ten thousand apiece.”
“Sure. That’s a good idea.”
“Hey,” Hailey said at Chloe’s downtrodden tone. “Every little bit helps.”
“It does.” She gave Hailey her best optimistic smile. “And I appreciate everything you’re doing.”
“You can thank me when we’re back on our feet,” Hailey said. “I expect a huge gala and a gold trophy.”
“I don’t know about the gala,” Chloe said. “But you’re so getting that trophy.”
“With rhinestones,” Hailey added. “Now, stop daydreaming about Nate Christensen and get to work.” She gave Chloe a wink in parting and closed the office door behind her.
Chloe slumped down in her chair and stared blindly at her computer screen. How could she possibly bring up the foundation with Nate now? Any attempt to plead her case for a sizeable donation would come across as sleazy. She’d never planned to sleep with him. She couldn’t change what had happened, though, and it was going to happen again. Nate was a force of nature. She had no choice but to be caught up in the storm.
With any luck, Hailey would be able to secure some real, solid funding today and Chloe wouldn’t have to worry about Nate’s money and what it could do for her struggling foundation. She checked the clock on the bottom of her screen. In less than ten hours, she’d be back in his hotel room and too mindless to think straight. Chloe rolled her shoulders and opened the Excel file with her list of possible contributors. Without thinking, she picked a random name from her list, picked up the phone, and dialed.
“Hi, this is Chloe Benson from the Youth Sports Foundation of Dallas. Is Mr. St. Claire available this morning?”
Chloe waited as the receptionist put her on hold. Think positive thoughts. With any luck, this wouldn’t be the bitch of a day she expected it to be, fraught with disappointment. Otherwise, she’d be begging Nate for a handout whether she wanted to or not.