Bachelor CEO. Michele Dunaway
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of the reasons he’d first noticed her and moved her into a fast-track position within the company. He’d said that as a young man he’d received a leg up from the former CEO, and felt honored to carry on the tradition.
He’d made Miranda responsible for millions of dollars and hundreds of employees. She’d proved her competency again and again.
Not that it helped her now. Venting her frustration, she pounded her hands on the steering wheel. She’d already tried her cell phone, but had no service in this neck of the woods.
She’d expected this part of Minnesota to be more like Iowa—miles and miles of open farmland. Instead she’d probably found the last old-growth pine forest in the country. So much for a “lone” pine.
She glanced in her mirror and saw a cyclist approaching. Maybe he could help. Cyclists weren’t usually muggers or rapists, right? And if the guy on the bike knew where he was going, maybe he could give her directions. Despite all the warnings to stay safely inside the vehicle with doors and windows locked, Miranda went with her gut, and stepped out of the car.
The cyclist drew to a stop next to her. He was a tall, fit man. His bike shirt clung to six-pack abs. His shoes hit the pavement with a click, and she tried not to stare at his legs. Because of his sunglasses, she couldn’t see his eyes—not that she was looking at his face, anyway.
She heard his voice, though—an incredulous demand: “What the hell are you doing here?”
CHASE HAD BEEN ALMOST back home when he’d seen the car on the side of the road. The ride had been invigorating and exactly what he needed. He’d get to the lodge, take a shower and dress for tonight’s party, all with time to spare.
He hadn’t thought much about the parked car until he’d drawn closer. Then he’d noticed the vehicle was silver, a sensible little four-door sedan…with Illinois plates.
He knew that car. He’d changed its tire. Twice in two days was more than a coincidence.
When its owner stepped from the car he’d enjoyed a glimpse of toned calf muscles under the red capri pants she wore. He’d braked, coming up next to her. And said the first thing that came to mind.
He could tell he’d surprised her, because she drew back slightly, the words of greeting dying on her lips. Man, those lips. They’d tortured him. Not as much as his grandfather’s announcement, but close enough to do some damage to his sleep.
“I’m starting to think you’re stalking me,” he said.
Her hypnotic green eyes widened farther. “Me? I don’t even know you.”
He reached up and removed his mirrored sunglasses. “We met yesterday.” Though he still didn’t know her name, he realized. “Remember?”
She exhaled, relieved at seeing him. “Chase. You scared me.”
“Do you have something to be afraid of, Ms….” He let his voice trail off.
“Miranda Craig,” she offered.
A pretty name, and not one he recognized.
“So what are you doing so far from Chenille, Miranda Craig?” He liked the way her name rolled off his tongue. “Don’t you have unpacking to do? Didn’t the moving van show up?”
“Yes, but I left it for later. I have to go to a party and I’m lost. I’m also late,” she admitted.
The quiver in her lower lip was almost indiscernible but Chase noticed the slight movement. She wasn’t so tough and suave as she tried to pretend. Being lost and late was causing her real distress.
“Where’s the party?” Chase asked, although in the pit of his stomach he already knew the answer.
“The McDaniel Lodge on Lone Pine Lake.”
“Well, you’re almost there.” He couldn’t help himself; the edge of his lip curled upward in a smile.
She crossed her arms and frowned at him, the tilt of her head the only acknowledgment that he was right. “This isn’t funny.”
“I find it that way. Here I am, rescuing you a second time. Where would you be without me?”
“Sane?” she retorted, and Chase let out a roar of laughter.
“Ah, so I drive you crazy already. That’s good to know. I’ll file it away for future reference. So you’re coming to my grandfather’s party?”
“I am. Walter Peters invited me.”
He stopped laughing then. “Walter? Don’t tell me you’re his…Is that how you got a job at McDaniel?”
Miranda glared at him as if he’d lost his mind. “That’s a sick accusation. Absolutely not. Walter’s my boss. We’ve known each other for years. He’s like a father to me, that’s all.”
“Sorry. Just checking,” Chase said, relieved.
Walter Peters and Chase’s grandfather had been friends ever since Leroy had needed a supplier for McDaniel products, and he’d joined forces with Walter and the company he worked for. Each man served on the other’s board of directors, and Leroy and Walter were constantly trading employees who needed promotions or different opportunities.
As for Miranda, Chase liked that she had fire. Most women didn’t fight back. They were too eager to please. Miranda looked as if she’d like to tell him to go to hell. She probably would, if she had any idea how to get to the lodge.
She needed him. That was the only thing giving him the upper hand. For now, he’d take any advantage he could get. She raised his adrenaline more than the thirty miles he’d just clocked.
“Are you going to help me?” she demanded.
Chase nodded. “For a price.”
“You’re crazy. I can just drive back the way I came and ask directions in town.”
“No, no.” All of Chase’s senses had heightened. The ride had made him a little heady, which must be the reason he wanted to press her against the car and ravage her mouth with his. The last mile would make for a good cooldown; his body needed one.
“I’m just saying I’ve come to your aid twice now. Don’t you think you owe me a little reward for all my trouble?” he asked.
“Someone needs to teach you some manners.”
Her lips held a little pucker, one he really liked.
“I’m teasing you, although I do plan to collect, so be warned. If you want, follow me to the turnoff, then pass me and continue on until the road curves sharply to the left. You’ll see a sign that the caterers put up, and you’ll need to turn there. Just keep following the signs. You can’t miss the tent or the parking.”
“Okay.” She seemed skeptical. “You can ride fast enough for me to follow you?”
“I’ll sprint,” he said. He put his sunglasses back on and locked his shoe into place. He grinned at her. “Be sure to keep up.”
And with that, before she could even get into her car, he took off.
CHASE MCDANIEL HAD TO BE the most infuriating man she’d ever met, Miranda decided as she put her car in gear and took off after him. He hadn’t even waited for her, just got on his bike and rode off at “sprint.” His feet were flying.
She didn’t know people could go that fast, except for maybe Lance Armstrong or one of those other racing guys. Chase could make that bike move, and she had to go a tad over the speed limit before she caught up with him. He slowed down then, and she followed at a safe distance.
Still, she got a great view of his backside. She had to admit his rear was nice. She’d seen him in a business suit and now in cycling shorts.
Naked, he was probably magnificent. He’d need a shower when he got back,