After the Party. Jackie Braun

of us take our responsibilities seriously. We have to,” he added, thinking of his uncle’s flighty temperament and just how much was at stake. That brought Chase back to his concerns. Some unscrupulous journalists would pay Ella handsomely for insider tidbits about Elliot. God help them if one already had. “Which reminds me, I’d like to have a word with you in private.”

      “Right now?”

      “If you and my uncle are finished, yes.”

      “Ella and I are done,” Elliot replied, coming around the reception desk. “But I thought that you and I had plans.” He scratched his head. “Or did I get that wrong? Don’t tell me I wore this damned monkey suit and canceled my morning walk in the park for nothing.” He smiled at Ella. “I walk rain or shine. It’s good for circulation. Owen bought me a treadmill for Christmas so I wouldn’t have to leave the building to go for a walk, but you can’t feed the pigeons on a treadmill.”

      “You’re right, Uncle. We do have plans.” Chase had scheduled a brunch meeting with Sumner Thurgood, one of the few board members who at least seemed hesitant to throw Elliot under the bus. He turned to Ella. “I guess our talk will have to wait.”

      “I’ll look forward to it.” Her wry smile made it clear that she was lying.

      Momentarily lost in those teasing, mismatched eyes, he replied honestly, “So will I.”

      THREE

      Chase told himself he was merely checking one more thing off his long to-do list when he arrived at Ella’s apartment building later that same day.

      He’d found her Lower Manhattan address with no problem, but he hesitated before getting out of his car, feeling uncharacteristically nervous. Maybe dropping in on her without advance notice wasn’t such a good idea. Not only was the hour late for a social call, he wasn’t expected and she might not be alone.

      Might? Who was he kidding? A woman who looked like she did wouldn’t hurt for male companionship, even if it was closing in on ten o’clock on a weeknight.

      These were sound reasons to head home and call her in the morning to schedule a proper meeting. Instead, he disregarded both common sense and good manners and got out of his car.

      Her building didn’t have a doorman. Overall, security was sorely lacking. The main entrance was propped open with a brick, making its antiquated buzzer system obsolete. He removed the brick after entering and made a mental note to mention it to Ella. In the small foyer, he found her name on the bank of mailboxes. Apartment 4C. He glanced around for an elevator, but saw only stairs. It explained a lot about her toned derriere, he decided, as he started up to the fourth floor.

      She answered on the third knock. Two things clued him in that she hadn’t used the peephole before flinging open the door: The shock that registered on her face when she saw him and what she was wearing. The cotton boxer shorts ended high on her thighs and the tank top fit snug enough across her breasts to make it obvious she wasn’t wearing a bra. He willed his gaze to remain on her face as he opened his mouth to speak. He needn’t have bothered. She slammed the door shut in his face.

      That made two of them who were surprised.

      He was turning to leave when he heard the knob jiggle and the hinges squeak. Ella stood framed in the doorway wearing a neon green hoodie, cropped black yoga pants and a sheepish smile. Even dressed for a cardio workout, she was still way too sexy for his peace of mind.

      “Sorry about that, Mr. Trumbull. I wasn’t expecting you.”

      “So I gathered. Call me Chase,” he said, even though the courtesy title had helped create a little distance, and he could use as much of that as possible at the moment. “You should use the peephole next time.”

      “I know, but I thought you were my neighbor. Her fridge is on the blink, so she’s been keeping some things in mine.”

      The explanation made him feel marginally better, but only because the neighbor in question was female. So, he felt the need to point out, “When I came in just now, the entry door was propped open with a brick.”

      “Yes, I know. The guy one floor down does that for his friends. He has a band and plays his music so loud that he can’t hear the buzzer.”

      “Have you reported him to the building’s super? Anyone could walk in.” And this was the sort of neighborhood where the anyones would be less than desirable.

      She smiled. “You sound just like my dad.”

      Chase frowned. His advice might seem paternal, but it bothered more than he cared to admit that she was comparing him to her father. He cleared his throat, deciding it was time to get to the reason for his visit.

      “I’m sorry to bother you at home and so late, but I needed to speak to you and it couldn’t wait.”

      “Is something wrong?”

      Before Chase could continue, a man and a woman, clothes disheveled and locked in an intimate embrace, stumbled out of the apartment next to Ella’s.

      “You really need to go,” the woman said breathlessly, even as she made no move to release her visitor.

      “I need to stay.”

      “My boyfriend will be back soon.”

      “Then let’s go back inside and finish what we started,” he replied suggestively.

      “No.”

      Immediately following her refusal, they locked lips again. Moaning ensued. When the woman began to wrap her legs around the man’s waist, Chase figured he knew what would come next. He turned to Ella.

      “Would it be all right if we had this conversation in your apartment?”

      “That’s probably a good idea,” she agreed hastily, backing up to allow him inside.

      One step over the threshold and Chase realized that in addition to standing in her foyer, he was also in her living room, kitchen, dining room and boudoir. The one-room apartment was that small. Hell, the walk-in closet off his master bedroom was more spacious. And filled with fewer clothes, he decided after taking a glance around. All manner of apparel hung from hooks. It decorated the walls in place of artwork and spilled from the most unlikely places, including the cubbies in a small writing desk and the metal hoops of a wine rack. He was no expert on female attire, but the garments appeared designer quality and therefore expensive. Ella’s eye color wasn’t the only contradiction.

      “This is...cozy,” he amended at the last minute. If he stretched out his arms, he was pretty sure he could touch the walls on either side of the room.

      She chuckled, the sound a mix between embarrassment and wry humor. “It’s the size of a matchbox and a little messy right now.” As she spoke, she used her foot to push something small and lacy behind a stack of fashion magazines on the floor. “Believe it or not, this is larger than my last place.”

      “You must have slept standing up.”

      “If I were any taller that might have been necessary,” she agreed. “As it was I couldn’t fit a bed in it. I had to make due with a foam mattress on the floor.”

      “Sounds uncomfortable.”

      Which was how Chase felt now that he was picturing her laying on that subpar mattress wearing...

      He coughed. To reel in his libido, he focused on what Ella’s home said about her. Real estate was expensive in Manhattan, but between the size of her studio apartment and its location, he was left to wonder how well her party planning business was doing if this place, an improvement over her last, no less, was all she could afford. Of course, maybe she spent the bulk of her income on her designer wardrobe.

      She was saying, “Oh, it wasn’t that bad. You’d have had a hard time of it, though. You’re what, six-four?”

      “Six-two,” he corrected.

      “Hmm.