His mouth quirked upwards. ‘Chase Bryant Designs.’
‘Your own.’
‘Yep, started it five years ago.’ He spoke casually, but she heard a betraying note of pride in his voice. He’d made something of himself, and without help from his wealthy family. She wanted to tell him she admired that, that she was proud of him, but how stupid would that be? He’d just feel even more awkward. So she took a large gulp of wine, and then another, deciding that alcohol was a better option.
‘Slow down there, Scary,’ Chase said, eyeing her near-empty wine glass. ‘Or I’ll have to carry you home.’
‘I’m not a lightweight.’
‘No, indeed.’ Now she heard an edge in his voice, and she pushed her wine glass away with a little sigh of irritation.
‘Look, Chase, why don’t you just come out and say it?’
He stilled. Stared. ‘Say what?’
‘You’re done.’
‘I’m done?’
‘Yes. Ever since—’ She paused, swallowed. ‘It’s obvious you’ve had your bout of intense sex and you’re ready to move on. So maybe we should call it a day. A night. Whatever.’ She grabbed her wine glass again and drained it, half-wishing she hadn’t started this conversation.
Half-wishing even now he’d tell her she was wrong.
‘You’re the one who has been picking fights,’ Chase said mildly. ‘I bought you a dress and took you out to one of the best restaurants in the whole Caribbean. So, sorry, I don’t get where you’re coming from.’
She met his gaze squarely. ‘You don’t?’ she asked quietly, no edge, no spite. Just raw honesty.
Chase held her gaze for a breathless beat and then glanced away. ‘No, I don’t,’ he said quietly, and she felt that tiny tendril of hope she’d still been nurturing even without knowing it shrivel and die.
It hurt that, after all they’d experienced and shared, he wouldn’t even own up to how things had changed. It hurt far too much.
She’d known this man for three days. Yet time had lost its meaning in this surprising paradise; time had lost its meaning ever since she’d agreed to have this fling—this intense, intimate, all-in fling—with Chase.
For a second Millie almost rose from the table and walked out of the restaurant. She didn’t need this. She didn’t need Chase. Then the waiter came and they gave their orders, and the impulse passed, her strength fading away.
For it was weakness why she stayed. A weakness for him. That little tendril of hope might have withered and died, but its seed still remained in the stubborn soil of her heart, desperate to grow.
Chase watched the emotions—disappointment, hurt, sorrow—ripple across Millie’s face like shadows on water, wishing he couldn’t read her so easily. Wishing he wasn’t screwing up so badly right now.
Nothing had been the same since the sex, and more importantly since the conversation after the sex. He’d pushed and pushed Millie, had wanted to see her lose that control, had wanted to be the one to make it happen. And when it had, and she’d taken a flying leap over that cliff, what had he done?
He’d backed away, and pretended he hadn’t. Acted like he was still right there with her, flying through the air, when she knew he’d really high-tailed it in the other direction.
Coward. Bastard.
He took a sip of water and stared moodily around at the restaurant. He’d always enjoyed this place, found it fun and relaxing, but not this time. Now he didn’t think anything would kick-start his mood. He wanted the fun back with Millie, the easy companionship they’d had. He hadn’t even realised just how easy it had been, until now.
Now words tangled in his throat and he couldn’t get any of it out. Couldn’t even begin. What to say? I’m sorry. I’m sorry I’m not there for you, when you thought I would be. When you wanted me to be and I just couldn’t do it.
Hell, this was all his fault. He should have listened to that cool, rational part of his brain that had told him to walk away from this woman before she drove him insane. Who said no to ‘intense’, no to a fling, no to anything with Millie Lang.
Instead he’d done the opposite, followed his libido and even his heart, and now he had no idea what to do. He hated seeing the deepening frown lines on Millie’s face, the worry marks on her lip fresher and more raw than ever. As he watched a little bright-red pearl of blood appeared on her lower lip from where she’d bitten it.
Damn. Damn it to hell.
‘Millie...’ He reached over, placed his hand on hers. She looked up, eyes wide, teeth sunk into that lip. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said in a low voice. ‘I’ve totally screwed this up.’
Tears filled those soft brown eyes and she blinked hard as she shook her head, teeth biting even deeper. ‘No. I’m the one who screwed up. I shouldn’t have said all that...after. That wasn’t part of our deal.’
‘I led you to it.’
She arched an eyebrow, somehow managed a smile. This woman was strong. ‘By tying me up and blindfolding me?’
‘Basically.’
‘Have you ever done that kind of thing before?’ she asked, curious, and he actually blushed.
‘No.’
‘Me neither.’
‘Yeah, I pretty much figured that out.’
She let out a laugh that trembled just a little too much. ‘Oh, Chase, I just want it back.’
He eyed her warily. ‘Back?’
‘You. Me. Us. I was having fun, you know, and that felt really good.’ She gave him a wobbly smile that felt like a dagger thrust to the heart. ‘It felt amazing.’
And he knew she was right. It had felt amazing. More amazing than anything else he’d ever had or known. Why was he pushing it away?
Four more days.
‘Come on,’ he said roughly. He rose from the table, nearly knocking over their drinks as he threw down some bills. ‘Let’s get out of here.’
She rose also, taking his hand as he threaded his way through the table. ‘Where are we going?’
‘To a room. A room with a bed.’
‘Or any convenient surface?’ she murmured, and something close to fierce joy pulsed through him.
‘That’s about the size of it,’ he agreed, and led her out into the night.
Millie didn’t ask questions, didn’t say anything at all as he led her away from the beach and towards the street. He hailed a cab, thanked God one screeched to the kerb in three seconds flat and then hauled her inside it.
Still no speaking. Would words break what was between them? Chase didn’t know. Was afraid to find out. And yet he had words, so many words, words he needed to say and, more importantly, she needed to hear.
But, first, a room. A bed.
‘Cap Juluca,’ he told the cab driver, and Millie just arched an eyebrow. ‘It’s a resort here,’ Chase explained, his voice still rough with want. ‘I booked it in case we didn’t feel like sailing back.’
And that was all that was said as they drove away from Meads Bay, down the coast, through the resort’s gates, and then up to the main building. Chase kept hold of her hand as he checked in and then led her away from the main complex towards the private cove that housed their accommodation.
Millie skidded to a stop. ‘A grass hut? Seriously?’
‘A luxurious grass hut,’