“Hi. I’m Chase Walker,” he said when he reached her.

Amanda stared at him for a moment. He didn’t say it in a way that was different from anyone else making an introduction would. But her rotten day dictated she heard him announcing his arrival as the final straw. It reeked of ego. Everyone on the planet knew who he was, even if they didn’t know a thing about baseball. He was one of those extraordinary specimens that became a national treasure, probably against the greater good. You couldn’t swing a dead cat without hitting something that had Chase Walker’s face on it. He probably just liked to hear the sound of his own name, even if he was the one having to say it. And in that moment, for reasons she couldn’t begin to explain, she chose to stand up for every person who was ever forced to cater to the perpetually pampered. Even on the best day of her life, people like him were difficult for her to take. She had the one luxury of not having to worry about getting fired; she was the boss. Her day already stank; she might as well make it memorable. When he and his goons left in a huff, she could have the added pleasure of tossing Alan Shaw out on his keister. She looked from one security guard to the other and then tilted her head at him, looking thoughtful.

“Mr. Walker, has anyone ever told you that your name is an oxymoron?” she asked, and then blinked at him with the subtle dare that he wouldn’t make the connection and she’d have to explain.

He raised his eyebrows before breaking out into the most boyishly genuine smile she had ever seen.

“Not since the fifth grade.” He chuckled, playing right into her observation. “Very funny, can’t really chase anyone when you’re a walker. Thanks for bringing it up. My therapist can probably start picking out his new car now.”

His smile was disarming and his voice even more so. Both were warm and easy and terribly engaging. His reaction was completely unexpected. Suddenly she felt ashamed for acting so immature. He saw through her thinly veiled and well-mannered route into calling him a moron, and quick-wittedly called her out on it. He didn’t seem insulted, nor did he seem ready to leave. She started to blush.

Chase studied her briefly before leaning back a bit and turning his head. One of the suits immediately rushed over, and he whispered something in the suit’s ear. The man nodded and the two security guards left the building. Then he straightened and returned his attention to Amanda. He drew his head across the podium and closer to hers. Because of his height, he could’ve come clear across it and breathed in her ear, but he stopped just short of it. “I’m guessing my agent worked you over pretty good?” he said pleasantly. “Because back in fifth grade, I think I beat that kid up on the playground. I’d hate to think you really want to pick a fight.”

“He does seem to bring out the worst in people,” she murmured, trying to stand her ground and not apologize, but also feeling guiltier for having been so antagonistic and unprofessional. He was making her feel downright childish.

“He’s a legend in his own mind,” he whispered in her ear, all mirth and amusement. “He bullies me into bringing the security. He can be insufferable. But he acts that way so I don’t have to. Can we start over?”

Amanda looked up into his sparkling green eyes and felt her breath catch. He was already towering over her and had moved in so close. His subtle hint of body wash surrounded by pure raw masculinity was intoxicating. It was hard to believe that Chase Walker could be bullied by anyone. And he was going out of his way to make her comfortable. He was a perfect gentleman. She blinked up at him, flabbergasted again, but this time for entirely different reasons.

“What’s your name, darlin’?” His casual use of an arbitrary endearment had the opposite effect of his agent’s use of one. It sounded warm and smooth, like honey.

“I’m Amanda Cole,” she said, instantly playing along and extending her perfectly manicured hand with a more relaxed smile. “Welcome to the Cold Creek Grille, Mr. Walker. Your party is already waiting.”

Then her hand completely disappeared within the grip of his. His hand was huge, in keeping with the rest of him. It was also surprisingly gentle.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Amanda. Please call me Chase,” he replied, refraining from telling her that her smile was radiant for fear it would sound condescending, since they had already started off on the wrong foot. In fact, she was beautiful in general. As soon as he’d walked in, he was drawn to her. Her big round eyes were so blue, her lashes long and inviting. Such contrast with the long ebony curls that framed her face. She had a pert little nose that looked adorable even when she’d wrinkled it up just prior to insulting him moments before. He could picture himself nibbling on her rosy bottom lip. He was surprised by the burst of kinetic energy, brought on just by placing her hand in his. She must’ve felt it too, because as soon as he lightened up on his grip, she quickly pulled her hand away and turned to lead him to his table.

Amanda Cole wasn’t thin, but instead was robust and buxom. She had curves, lots of them, and in all the right places, he noted. Making sure she was several steps ahead of him, he pulled out his phone as he walked. The action served a dual purpose. If he looked focused on something, people were less likely to try to stop him. It was all about avoiding eye contact.

He could also discreetly look her up and down without looking like a letch as he followed behind her. And since it was his specialty, he could tell in one sweeping glance that beneath the lines of her royal-blue Halston dress, Amanda Cole was a brick house. Right down to her bodacious booty, which he guesstimated how much of his hand could cover in one shot. She had certainly given him reason to want to. She had a brat switch, and he had tripped it the minute she saw him. If she had spoken any louder, she would’ve cut him to the quick in front of half a dozen people, including his own employees. But she had been careful to make sure he was the only one to hear it. She wasn’t flirting with him, though. She had reverted back to trying to act professional and move things along. Thanks to his agent, she’d probably spent the afternoon hating him. In too short a stroll, they arrived at the booth where Alan Shaw was waiting, and Chase took a seat. She wished them both a lovely dinner and promptly removed herself. He allowed himself one more thorough blink as she walked away.

“You had a good day,” Alan said, taking another swallow of his drink as Chase settled into his side of the booth.

“All my days are good,” Chase replied, gearing up for the onslaught that always came from dinner with Alan Shaw. He picked up his menu as Alan snapped his fingers, even though Nicki was already hurrying over.

“Mr. Walker,” Nicki tried to stifle the giggling. “What can I get you to drink?”

“Please call me Chase,” he said, thinking that that particular phrase was starting to sound like a broken record. “And I’ll take a Heineken.”

“Right away . . . Chase.” Nicki giggled and scurried off.

“I should have ordered a waiter,” Alan muttered before waving his own glass and calling after her, “I’ll take another one, too.”

“Nice play on words. Seems there’s a bit of that going around,” Chase commented dryly, casting another glance at Amanda. “I could have done without you pissing off the hostess. If she wasn’t so cute and you weren’t so pushy, I’d seriously consider complaining.”

Alan turned his head briefly to follow Chase’s gaze back to the front of the restaurant.

“That’s not the hostess,” Alan said indifferently. “She owns the place. She has no trouble turning on the bitch, but I hear the food is excellent.”

Chase immediately bristled at the use of the word bitch to describe any woman, much less the one whom he currently had his eye on. But if that was as bad as Alan got in his description of women this evening, he’d consider it a win. “Know anything else about her?”

“Oh, great,” Shaw griped. “I can tell already where this is going. If I answer your question, can we get down to business?”

Chase held up his hand. “Scout’s honor.”

“She’s got a rich daddy.”

“Daddy as in sugar?” Chase asked, feeling the disappointment of such a beauty going home to some shriveled-up geezer. But it would explain why she was so cantankerous.

“Daddy as in father,” Alan clarified and Chase brightened.

“There’s a rumor that he’s going after next year’s senate seat, and her mother is Essex County DA,” Alan continued. “And she’s single, which I’m sure is the only thing you really want to know anyway.”

So she had breeding, Chase thought, not bothering to confirm or deny. It was best not to get too familiar with your agent. Alan Shaw was business. His glance swept one more time in her direction. Amanda Cole looked to be all pleasure. “How do you find out all this stuff?”

“I’m only as good as the knowledge I hold,” Shaw scoffed.

“You always sound so shady,” Chase said, “like you just came up with something from the seedy underbelly.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Alan remarked before switching topics. “Where’s your security?”

“I told them to go get my car and bring it back. The crowd doesn’t look too rowdy here and I want to take off as soon as we’re done.”

“Take off where?” Alan questioned suspiciously.

“Wherever I feel like,” Chase replied easily, knowing it would aggravate him further. “It’s my day off tomorrow.”

“When are you going to learn you can’t just venture off alone anymore?”

“Watch me,” Chase said. “I don’t have to always live in a bubble. And I like it when you don’t know where I am, it keeps you on your toes. What’s the agenda this evening?”