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A sound came from the doorway, and I dropped the phone on the desk with a loud clatter.

  Shit. Shit. Shit.

  “Mr. Bradenton?”

  Blood rushed to my head, the one on top of my shoulders, and I sat up straight in the chair, whirling toward the door. Angela hovered there, a notebook in her hand.

  “What?” I snapped. “What do you want? Can’t you see I’m on a call?”

  “I called your driver,” Angela said softly, her eyes wide behind her glasses. “You said … did I disturb you?” She walked cautiously into my office. “Diego is waiting outside; he’s been circling–”

  “No!” I snapped, holding my hand up in the air. “I’m fine.”

  Normally, I was known for my laid-back vibe. But Chastity … well, that naughty vamp had turned me into a frantic, sex-crazed, corporate pervert. Angela frowned so I tried to smile at her, but could tell it came off like a sneer. Perspiration dampened my brow, and my cock still throbbed, my balls tight, protesting the lack of resolution to my little problem.

  “I’m fine, Angela. Thanks.”

  She shot me a suspicious look laced with confusion, but finally turned around and walked away. Letting out a sigh of relief, I flopped back in the chair and wiped my brow with the back of my hand. The phone laid on my desk, and with a touch of regret, I picked up the receiver and slammed it down into the cradle.

  Chastity, my ass, I thought as I waited for my massive erection to subside. A gnawing ache devoured my groin, and I knew that in a few minutes, I’d be the unlucky recipient of the biggest case of blue balls in all of New York.

  Taking a deep breath, I shoved my laptop into my Gucci messenger bag and slipped the strap over my shoulder. Aside from a little sweat on my forehead, I looked pretty normal. Gritting my teeth, I walked out of the office and took the elevator down to the lobby. And Diego. The very male and heterosexual Diego.

  The elevator stopped on the second floor, and I groaned.

  Why, of all fucking days, why can’t I just be alone right now?

  I rolled my eyes, waiting as the doors slowly opened. A petite girl with a generous, curvy figure and dirty-blonde hair pulled back in a messy bun atop her heart-shaped face stepped inside. She was cute – not out of this world hot – but cute enough. But after what I’d just experienced, nothing short of Alessandra Ambrosio stepping on to this damn metal box on ropes would turn my head.

  Then, she smiled, and my heart stopped in my chest. Somehow, the twinkle in her eyes and curve of her lips transformed her relatively average face into one of drop-dead beauty. Lush lips wrapped around perfect white teeth and a charming dimple in her left cheek went on full display. My hand itched to reach out so I could poke a finger into the indentation.

  “It’s not nice to stare,” she said, gazing up at me. I frowned. There was something very familiar about her for some reason.

  “Sorry,” I mumbled. “Long day.”

  “Tell me about it,” she said, shaking her head with a girlish giggle that tinkled over me like a breath of fresh air on a humid day. “Some of the assholes I have to deal with at work, I swear! This job might be the death of me.”

  I blinked. “I’m Chase,” I said impulsively, offering her my hand.

  Her emerald green eyes met mine and lit with recognition at my name, and the smile fell away from her face. I knew that she knew me somehow. Probably from the gossip section of The Times. Nolan was famous for making it in the paper, and I tended to fall into the guilt by association category right alongside him or his new wife, Charlie.

  Then I saw it. The nametag on a bag she carried, her name popping out at me like she’d written it in neon lights.

  She saw me notice it and swallowed hard before blowing out a long breath. “Chastity,” she said, holding out an elegant hand, her cheeks turning the prettiest pink. I imagined her tapered fingers wrapped around my cock. “Nice to meet you.”

  Chapter Two

  Chastity

  I couldn’t believe my stroke of luck after a horseshit day. The Greek god standing in front of me had to be the most gorgeous man I’d ever seen in my life. He was tall and lean – but shredded – and his cheekbones looked sharp enough to cut diamonds.

  A strong, chiseled jaw peppered with just a hint of dark scruff completed the sexy look. Best of all, he towered over my petite frame by at least a foot. The top of my head barely came up to his chin. And he had gorgeous, big hands with a sprinkling of dark hair on the back. I couldn’t help but notice the lack of a wedding band.

  Now, why had I gone and looked at his ring finger? This was some rich bastard corporate raider. The kind who ate poor girls like me for dinner and then spit the frayed remains into the gutter to be swept away like sewage. I sighed and leaned back into the corner, pressing my spine into the railing, trying to disappear.

  He mumbled something, so I rushed to fill the awkward silence with a crack about my crappy job, leaving out the lurid details. And then he spoke, offering me his hand and I couldn’t swallow the molten hot lump in my throat. I’d never forget that voice. Because it had affected me more than it ever should have, just minutes ago.

  “Did you say Chastity?”

  On the phone, his voice had sounded sexy, but it came nowhere close to the gritty timbre in person. My lower belly twitched with an irritating amount of arousal. Never get married to the job. That’s what my mentor, Candy, had told me during orientation.

  “Just get through the day,” she’d admonished many times. “You’re a good girl, and you’re going to school to better yourself. Don’t end up here permanently.”

  I cringed and backed up even farther, but the wooden hand rail already dug into the tender flesh of my back. There was nowhere to go but out. Once these damn doors slid open.

  Escape.

  I’d never wanted anything more. He took up space. Not merely because of his massive size, but because of something else. It felt as if all the oxygen had been pulled from the confines of the square elevator car. I struggled to draw breath. And now, he towered over me, questioning me. Shit. I clamped my eyes shut against the rising panic that surely he could see.

  “Yep, that’s me,” I said, smiling up at him but my attempt at a sunny expression turned out to be a subtle baring of teeth. I might as well fully confess because this guy didn’t look anything close to stupid. “I think we met on the phone just now.”

  I filled the silence by inwardly chastising myself.

  You idiot! Of course you just met on the phone! How many men named Chase do you think work in this building? And his voice. And the way he’s looking at you…

  I shook my head. I couldn’t get an accurate read on him. He shot me a bemused grin. And was that a blush overtaking his chiseled features? Not even possible. Sure, I didn’t look exactly like the description I actually gave guys over the phone. But in my line of work, I sold a fantasy. I’d never tell, but most of the women working with me were average to downright homely. Hot chicks didn’t have to work as phone sex operators. Not to mention that my description changed multiple times per day. Sometimes, I was a statuesque blonde, other times I was a petite brunette spinner. My look depended on my client and his needs. Either way, I sure as hell didn’t tell the truth. Too short, too curvy, and with dirty blonde hair that would never stay perfectly coiffed.

  “I don’t believe you,” Chase said. He grinned a crooked smile, and I felt my heart melt. “Want to prove it to me over dinner?”

  I rolled my eyes. The elevator descended at an infuriatingly slow pace, pitching and straining under the effort of the pulley system. “There’s nothing to prove. Chastity Sexe is my name. My real name. I’ve got to be getting home now.”

  The moment I heard the ding, I sprung forward to race ahead of him. The heels of my stilettos reverberated off the Italian marble floor like rapid fire as I finally escaped.

  “Boyfriend?” he called from somewhere behind me. I didn’t turn. I wouldn’t turn. Only one thing could come from turning. “Is he expecting you home soon?�
�

  Heartbreak.

  I rolled my eyes again, discouraged by the flush that rose to my cheeks and flung some words over my right shoulder. “No. Not a boyfriend.”

  “Dog?”

  I heard the pounding of his loafers, and his voice carried more weight as he closed the gap. Damn it. Why had I chosen slow footwear today? Because the four-inch Jimmy Choo hand-me-downs made me feel almost human. To my disgust, I felt my blush turning an even deeper shade of red. He’d kind of hit the nail on the head.

  “Cat. Her name is Trouble,” I snapped, running faster. “Because that’s usually what I get into unless I go home to take care of her. She’s pissy in that adorable feline way.”

  I could almost feel his humid breath chasing down the back of my neck. I kept waiting for those long, elegant fingers to clutch a handful of my discounted T.J. Maxx blouse.

  “A lover of animals,” he said, huffing a breath. Good. I’d made him tired and straining for air. Why didn’t he stop and just go away? Back to his Park Avenue penthouse? I knew about NYC guys like him. All cash and zero substance. Born with a silver spoon and all that. “I like that. So I couldn’t possibly tempt you away from Trouble just for a few hours? For a meal at Daniel?”

  I gasped. Daniel was the most expensive French restaurant in NYC. I’d wanted to go for years, but never thought it would be possible. My roommate, Trina, and I always joked about taking ourselves there after graduation, but I knew it was a pipe dream like most of my delusional fantasies. Life never went my way. I couldn’t even afford a presentable dress for Daniel, much less a meal there.

  After a few seconds, reality set in and I skidded to a halt so fast he almost ran over me. I spun on a heel and narrowed my eyes at Chase as he stepped away. Pedestrians anxious to return home filed by us in various stages of dress and at various speeds. Almost as if the scene had been brought down to slow motion for clarity. Anger coursed through me. More at being taunted with what I could never have than anything else. I didn’t like poverty thrown in my face.

  “Despite what you may think from our talk earlier, I can’t be bought,” I spat somewhere in the vicinity of his soft as butter leather loafers.

  And I sure as hell don’t have the cash to go Dutch. Even to McDonalds.

  “And besides,” I added, gazing down at my black pencil skirt. “I don’t date clients. Strict rule. I’d be fired if they found out, and I need my job.”

  Chase smiled again – that heartbreaking crooked smile I already knew would haunt my dreams.

  “I’m not officially a client, right? No cash exchanged hands. So I couldn’t tempt you for just one small little date? Coffee? A walk in Central Park?” He smirked, and I felt my cheeks heating again. I didn’t like his effect on me, and all I wanted was to get to run toward the subway so I could get the hell away from him. “It doesn’t have to mean anything. We wouldn’t have to continue our earlier conversation.”

  It doesn’t have to mean anything. The famous last words of every rich fuck trying to get in a poor woman’s pants.

  “Right,” I said, narrowing my eyes.

  A racing woman in a black Michael Kors trench jostled me at the elbow, and Chase reached out a hand to steady me. A wave of electricity crackled from his fingers, straight through my arm and settled in my chest. Tightening my entire torso right past ache into pain. I scanned the perimeter, trying to strategize. I felt more awkward than I ever had in my entire life.

  Women openly stared at Chase and then gave me a dismissive glance. Like the ugly duckling standing next to the beautiful swan in all his vibrant plumage. I didn’t have to have ESP to know what their thoughts. I was beneath him. They knew it. I knew it. Why in the hell didn’t he know it?

  Because all he wants is a dive into my panties. That’s all. I revved his engine with our earlier phone call.

  People still darted around us left and right like some kind of smelly human river. Something about Chase attracted and repulsed me at the same time. I hated guys like him – rich, cocky, and handsome enough to think he can tempt any creature of the female persuasion into falling for him. Hook, line, and sinker. Well, I may be as low on the Totem pole as an earthworm, but I wouldn’t be his live bait. I’d had my share of his brand of asshole in the past. I didn’t need another one – especially not smack dab in the middle of senior year. Graduating and moving on with the rest of my life loomed at the end of my fingertips.

  “How about a ride home, then? Wouldn’t want you to keep Trouble waiting.” Sincerity laced his tone, but the mocking grin on his face contradicted his words. He pointed a long finger to a Town Car about a block away with a Hispanic man standing outside, holding the door open to the sleek, black vehicle.

  “Diego?”

  He waggled his eyebrows. “In the flesh.”

  A shiver crawled down the small of my back when I thought about how his voice would sound whispered into my ear.

  No.

  Everyone knew Nolan Banks and his staff. This man was not for me. Not now. Not ever.

  “Sorry, but I shouldn’t,” I lied. “I always take the subway.”

  He grimaced at the word subway as if he’d sank is teeth into a bitter pill. “I have a nice ride. Don’t tell me you’d prefer the subway over Diego. He’ll never get over it if you refuse. See him over there? Looking pathetic? Holding the door open just for you?”

  I frowned as I realized that I’d never been in a limo before … even though I’d always kind of wanted to try. Just like I’d never been to Daniel before.

  “I see that,” I said curtly. “And Diego appears to be a very nice man. Look, Chase, it was great talking to you and all, but I need to get going,” I said, stepping away and hoisting my ratty tote bag higher on my shoulder. “I really do have to go.”

  “That’s too bad,” Chase said. He stared down at his phone – some kind of fancy rich person Palm Pilot thing, and frowned. I liked his handsome face far better when lit with a smile. Why did I care? I was never going to see him again. “Looks like there’s some kind of major delays on the MTA…” Chase held his phone out toward me as he pursed his full lips in a perfect oval pout. “Lots of train delays. Looks like you won’t be getting home for a while if you take the train. Trouble might piss in your shoes.”

  I groaned and felt my shoulders slump down practically to my ribs.

  “Damn,” I muttered.

  While I had some cash on me, I couldn’t use it for a cab. I needed to buy something to eat on the way home, and Trouble needed fresh litter.

  “Sure I couldn’t tempt you with that ride?”

  Fuck him and his optimistic, knowing grin. I wanted to smack it off his face.

  “Fine,” I snapped. “But that’s it. You’re just driving me home. I’m never to be seen or heard from again as far as you’re concerned.”

  Chase chuckled to himself in a self-assured way. I could practically see the gears turning behind his chocolate brown eyes. Well, if he thought he had me just because I’d be in the back seat of his limousine, he had another thing coming. I’m sure Diego could hear me screaming even through the sound-proof glass if this joker tried anything inappropriate. Just because I worked for an erotic business didn’t make me a whore. That would be the furthest thing from the truth.

  “Got it,” Chase said. “Let’s go, milady. Your chariot awaits.”

  I managed to stay a few paces ahead of him in spite of my heels and his legs for miles, and slid into the car with assistance from Diego. The extra few seconds allowed me time to burrow into the corner of the leather seat. No way could Chase Bradenton sidle up to me without it appearing so awkward he’d lose face if he tried it.

  Diego fired up the engine, and it purred to life. A minute later, I was cruising through downtown Manhattan in the poshest car I’d ever seen, let alone sat inside. The inside smelled like money – new leather and some kind of spicy cologne. Gucci. Chase reclined next to me, kicking his long, elegant legs up on the opposite seat.

  “Refreshment?” Ch
ase grinned. I watched him slide open a hidden panel and pull out two crystal flutes and a bottle of champagne. “Does the lady care for champagne after her long day?”

  My mouth watered but I shook my head. “I shouldn’t. I have to study later.”

  Chase eyed me carefully from head to toe, his gaze inspecting the seams of my clothing. I winced – I knew I didn’t look particularly sharp in spite of my skirt and blouse. But designer clothing didn’t land at the top of my list of priorities. A wave of shame washed over me, and I felt less than in his presence. Everything he wore was high-end and tailored to perfection. Even his hair was mussed in the latest style. As if running his fingers through it only served to make it sexier. After his inspection, I felt like melting into a puddle and dripping out of the limo door.

  “Studying for your Masters?”

  “No, undergrad,” I said. “I’m at Hunter, it’s my last year.”

  “And you’re studying to be the next Manhattan Madam, I assume?” Chase raised his eyebrows. He wrapped one of his large, sinewy hands around the champagne cork and popped it open in the car. With a flourish, he tilted the bottle and caught a perfect stream of golden bubbles inside one of the flutes before even one drop could escape onto the carpet.

  “No,” I said, fearing that I’d blush again. I swallowed as he studied the long column of my throat. The skin heated as if he’d touched me there. “I’m studying psychiatry and psychology. I want to be a counselor. To…” I clamped my lips shut, almost revealing something personal to a perfect stranger. Even though we had forged a fake intimacy earlier, I hardly knew the man. “To be a counselor. That’s what I’ve always wanted.”

  “Admirable.”

  Chase nodded and lifted his glass to me. He poured champagne into a second flute before I could stop him and handed it over. As I took the glass from his hand, our fingers brushed against each other, and another shiver gripped my spine in a waterfall of tingles. Being around him disarmed me – I felt like I’d never been so easily aroused by a man in my entire life. It felt dangerous, intoxicating … exactly the kind of thing I needed to avoid.