Perfect Harmony by Sarah P. Lodge Page A

care about them.
    I take a deep breath to try and calm my shaking hands.
    Chase is the only thing I can think about.
    I watch his tall dark figure tower above the crowd as he
cruises to the bar, the throng of people parting in his way as they stare at
him, wide eyed and full of wonder and wanting.
    I can’t blame them.  As much as I want to deny it, I’m
feeling a hunger for him, myself.
    No.  This is stupid.  I can’t think of him in such a way. 
Even forgetting who he is, we’d made a deal: our date is a fabrication.  He’d
been so damn adamant of that fact.  He feels nothing for me, so I must feel
nothing for him.
    But then, why has his behaviour all night betrayed that
deal?  The way he looks at me and the way he touches me, cupping my cheek and
whispering such beautiful things...
    My skin burns, flushing at the thought of his fingers
stroking the back of my neck, and running under my jaw and across my shoulders,
and down my back.
    And the soft feel of his lips against my cheek.
    It wasn’t even how he made me feel on a sensual level. 
There was something else about the way he treated me that made me feel
different.  Bold and beautiful and courageous and willing to do anything; no
longer some scared little girl.
    He makes me feel like a woman.
    How can one man make me feel this way when nothing else in
my life ever has?  Perhaps it was the way he looks at me with that hunger in
his eyes.  Or the touch of his compact and muscular body against my own.  Or
his smell, so hot and musky and clean, like a wild animal full of power and
control.
    It sends me into a deep lust just thinking about him.  Blood
thumps against my ears and my stomach twists, my skin so tingly and scorching
hot, and a furious fluttering in my chest.
    I’ve never felt this way about a man before, such hunger and
want and desire, tearing me up inside.  Every moment he’s away it hurts like
hell, and every second he’s next to me I want him more until I can’t think of
anything else.
    I swallow, and it feels like there’s a golf ball in my
throat.
    All I need to do is get through tonight.  I’ll make sure to
say nothing else to him, and keep my distance as much as possible.  Then I’ll
have something to drink, maybe champagne, and something to eat.  Before I know
it, tomorrow will come and I’ll be free and back to work at the admin desk and
Chase will go back to being Mr. Strong and never look my way again.
    Easy.
    It’s not like he’s actually attracted to me, not for real. 
He says he’s chosen me over that perfect paragon Mercedes Bell, but he’s just
lying to make me feel better.  He’s probably been lying to me all evening.
    But I’m reminded again of how he cupped my cheek and gazed
deep into my eyes, his own so large and enveloping.  I felt adrift in his
words, how he told me he wanted nothing more to do with her because he met me.
    The real me .
    Maybe this is who I really am, ball gowns and champagne and
charity fundraisers.  Someone I’ve denied for so long.  Someone who Chase would
want.
    A thrill rushes though my body as I remember how he pulled
me close and wrapped his arms around me like he was protecting me from the
world, like a rare treasure he wanted to keep safe whilst flaunt in front of
movie stars and famous singers and politicians.  The feel of his piercing gaze
as he inspected my body from top to bottom when we left the limo and his stern
hand brushing off the paparazzi that scared me so much.
    The tension rises up in me like a coiled spring, the need
for him so blinding it’s unreal.  How he makes my heart pound against my chest
and my breath so shallow and fast, my breasts rising and falling with every
tight exhale, wrapped snug in this gorgeous dress he bought me.  A dress he
bought to make me look more beautiful.
    And that look he gives me.  Every time our eyes meet and our
gaze locks to each other, I fight the powerful urge compelling me to spill my
guts and confess everything to