The Chase: A Novel Read Online Free Page A

The Chase: A Novel
Book: The Chase: A Novel Read Online Free
Author: Brenda Joyce
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suit had to be custom-made. She realized she was staring, but then so was he. She also realized that the room was too quiet. “Can I help you?” she tried.
    “I have a feeling that you don’t like parties, Claire,” he said.
    Claire felt her eyes widen as their gazes locked. His kind tone was like a hair trigger, and she turned away, even more shaken. “Of course I like parties.” But he was right. Parties were a part of her work. Rarely were they social events and a time to eat, drink, or be merry. Parties were an opportunity to raise badly needed funds for important causes, to pay back or laud those who had helped her in the past. Claire would never let anyone hold a party for her. Her last official birthday party had been when she was sixteen.
    “Just not this one?” he prodded.
    She turned away. “It’s my husband’s birthday,” she stressed. “It’s a wonderful evening for us both.” To her horror, her voice cracked on the last syllable.
    “It’s okay. I know how tough these things can be.” His tone was kind, his gaze unwavering.
    But their marriage was over. She had seen it in David’s eyes, and she felt it, too.
    She had been alone her entire life. When she had married, she had thought that she would never be alone again.
    But she was different now. She was a strong and successful woman, not a frightened, bereaved child.
    “Here.”
    Claire saw a tissue being dangled over her right shoulder. She accepted it gratefully, and while she was dabbing at her eyes, she heard him wander past her. He was giving her some space to compose herself, but he was not leaving her. Claire peeked at him out of the corner of her eye and saw him studying the seascape above the mantel. Her heart seemed to kick her in the chest.
    It was the most shocking sensation.
    Claire stared at him, stunned.
    He faced her with a smile. “That’s better. Beautiful women crying make me all nervous and jittery. I have a whole bunch of sisters, and every single one of them loves to cry.”
    She had to smile. “How many sisters do you have?”
    “Four. All younger than me.” He grinned. His dimples were charming—they made him look as if he smiled all the time.
    “Growing up must have been chaotic.”
    “It was hell. Pure and simple. Hell.” He smiled again and winked. Then, seriously, he said, “I’ve got big shoulders. Feel free to lean on them any time.”
    She felt herself beginning to blush again. Worse, he seemed sincere. “I’m fine now, Mr. Marshall. Truly, I am. I don’t know what happened. I never get so emotional.” She could not look away from his eyes. They were green.
    “Ian, please. And all women are emotional. Trust me. I know.”
    She smiled. “I’m not emotional.” She was firm.
    “I doubt that.” He wasn’t smiling now. “Any woman who dedicates her life to bettering the worlds of kids and dogs has a huge and bleeding heart.”
    She stared. “How do you know what I do?”
    “I’m a friend of David’s,” he said. “Remember?”
    Something had changed, and Claire didn’t know how or when it had happened. The room was still. Everything felt silent and unreal. Claire was so aware of the man standing just a few feet away from her; his presence seemed to charge the air.
    “Is there anything I can do?” he asked. “Can I somehow make this a better evening?”
    She was amazed. He really meant it. “No.” Her smile became wide and genuine. “Not unless you can make the clock strike midnight.”
    He smiled in return. “Well, I could sneak around the house and change all the clocks.”
    “But all the men are wearing wristwatches.”
    “We could tell the bartender to pour triples.”
    Her eyes widened. “Souse them all!” she cried.
    “And no cake,” he added, dimples deepening.
    “No cake. To hell with the birthday,” Claire agreed fervently.
    “There’s always that yacht my friend has moored in the marina—we can probably see the
Lady Anne
from your terrace.” His gaze was
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