In Deep: Chase & Emma (All In Book 1) Read Online Free

have a story
of my own. Not yet, anyway. I needed to scoop it first. And it looked
like I was going to have a lot more time to do exactly that, as his
personal “on call” physical therapist. Would he want me to be
available to him 24/7, all hours of the day? And night? And why did I
feel excited about that prospect?
    §
    I knocked on Chase’s
door at six fifty-eight p.m. I really was my parents’ daughter.
They’d raised me on the saying, “if you’re early, you’re on
time. If you’re on time, you’re late. If you’re late, it’s as
if you didn’t show up at all.” Slightly dorky, yes, but I
couldn’t help it. They’d baked it deep into my DNA.
    I’d gone for a run in
the late afternoon, grabbed a salad and then taken a shower, so my
hair was still slightly damp. I’d thought about blow-drying, or
putting it up, but stopped myself. I wouldn’t start changing
everything for Chase Carter. Every day I woke up and pulled my hair
into a quick ponytail. It stayed like that until my late afternoon or
early evening run, depending on my schedule with clients. Then I took
my shower and let it air-dry. I wasn’t a primper, and Chase would
just have to deal with that. This wasn’t a date, anyway. Even
though butterflies flew around in my stomach exactly like it was.
    He opened the door
wearing a T-shirt and shorts, not tight but draping along the
definition of his muscles. Damn the man had muscles. At five feet
five inches, I wasn’t short, but he made me feel small standing
next to him, like he could pick me right up, swing me over his
shoulder and carry me into his bedroom.
    Which was what it
seemed like he was thinking of doing when he looked down at me. That
heat I’d seen in his eyes earlier, it was still there as he stood
in the doorway.
    “Your hair’s down,”
he observed as he stepped to the side to let me in. “And a little
wet.” He reached out and took a strand between his fingers. “Did
you go swimming?”
    “No.” I gave him a
slightly flustered smile, and took a step away. I didn’t know why I
felt so exposed around him. “I showered after my run.”
    “Thought so,” he
murmured, almost to himself, and then went on to ask me questions
like the athlete he was.
    “What kind of a
runner are you? Short course or long?”
    “Distance.” I knew
what he meant, even though he used swimming terminology.
    “What’s your
favorite race?”
    “10K.” I didn’t
have to think a moment about that. I’d run a marathon, once, and
decided that would be my one and only. The first guy who’d run it
had died at the end, anyway. Even a half marathon became a slog to
me. But the 10K? That fit me just right, long enough I could push it
the whole time, but short enough I could still walk to a bar and
celebrate afterward with friends.
    “What’s your best
time?”
    “45:23.”
    “Did you run in
college?”
    “Yes.” I held up my
hand, signaling to him to give me a moment after all those rapid-fire
questions. And I had to tease him a little. “So, you don’t like
interviews. But you don’t mind giving them?”
    “I do want to get to
know you.” The intensity in his aquamarine eyes made me catch my
breath. As did his next question. “How do you know I don’t like
giving interviews?”
    “Everyone knows
that.” I shrugged, averting my eyes. It wasn’t because I was
trying to interview him! Besides, what I said was true. Everyone did
know that he hated interviews. He’d grown famous for his swimming,
of course, but his avoidance of the spotlight had played into his
star status, too. Everyone wanted what they couldn’t have.
    I looked around his
suite and realized while all of us were staying in the same hotel
near the swim center, we clearly weren’t all in the same type of
room. Chase had a lavishly decked-out suite with what looked like a
full kitchen and living room large enough to accommodate a massage
table, already all set up.
    “Would you like
something to drink?” he asked,