Hunted:A Stepbrother Romance Novel

By: Olivia Long

Chapter 1


“Thanks for the ride, babe.” I fired off an absent wink in Doable Party Planner’s direction. Her name was, technically, Angela—Angela Something—but I was thinking of her as Doable Party Planner, because that was her contact listing in my phone. “Call me if you want to—you know—later.” I shoved open the door and swung one leg out.

“Go out?” she asked hopefully.

I smirked. “No,” I replied shortly, standing and swinging the door shut without a backward glance. It only made me feel bad to look. They were always watching with this twisted-up, pouty girl face. It was the jeans. I shouldn’t have worn these jeans, all frayed and distressed and hanging just the right way off my hips. Women always stared at my ass when I wore these.

Doable Party Planner was a sweet chick ... with a great rack. I couldn’t be sure if I remembered her name correctly; either way, it was a real shame. But it didn’t matter. We weren’t going anywhere.

I pushed through the swinging glass door beneath the gigantic Healing Hands logo, striding past the receptionist girl without pausing. It would only be awkward and pointless. We’d slept together a couple years ago, when she first started here, and besides, I’m the president’s son and, oh, the star of the Healing Hands charity baseball team. Every game we play is all about two things: giving money to hospitals, and undoubtedly getting a blowjob. I doubt you have any idea how quickly the combination of baseball and charity peels off panties, but sometimes I don’t even have time to blink or I’ll miss the strip tease.

The administrative office was sparse, clean, and almost entirely empty. It was late on a Friday, so most of the staff had gone home by now ... except, of course, Chloe. Chloe Vaughn.

There she was.

Hunched intently over a printed spreadsheet in her cubicle, Chloe Vaughn had long, chestnut-brown hair flowing onto the desk itself, hiding her features from view. Her arms, lanky and trim, and her slim waist and flared hips, were all I could see from my point of view ... and it was all I needed to see.

“Hey babe,” I greeted, slinging myself over her workspace and spreading my hand across her sheet.

Chloe jerked upright and glared at me with her pointy, perfect face. Her jaw was slender and sharp like the tip of a heart, and her cheekbones were subtle and strong. Her skin was like gold, but even more than that, for better or worse, were her dark green eyes. Who the hell has eyes like that? Like a forest in the late afternoon?

“Oh, it’s you,” Chloe muttered, letting her pen fall and roll across the desk. She glowered up at me bitterly. “Shouldn’t you be, I don’t know, trolling a Hooters for some poor waitress that just got dumped?”

“I’ve got all the insecure hot chicks I need right here in my phone,” I said, chucking beneath her chin with mock affection.

Chloe’s glower remained unchanged. “I guess it’s a good thing that you’re here,” she allowed, scooping up a portfolio and flipping it open. “Have you read, I don’t know, the NEWS at all?”

“Hmph.” I considered the word ‘news’ as if they were an obscure band of whom I’d never heard. “Can’t say that I have. But, if they make it into a movie, I might watch it. Sounds kinda good.”

“Yeah?” Her eyes flashed tempestuously. “Well, it’s not, at all. One of your key sponsors was just busted in a hotel room with some coke and a friend of his daughter’s.”

I grinned down at her knowingly. “Do you hate fun?”

Chloe sighed, long and high and musical. A surge of blood brought my cock to partially stiffen. I loved that sound. “Look, Chase,” she said, rolling her eyes dramatically as she spoke, “all I’m asking is that you officially reject the Klein donation next time it comes, in the name of Healing Hands. The sooner the better. Being associated with characters like that makes this look like a shell company.”

“So guys and their daughters’ friends can’t donate to charity?” I asked incredulously. It was a valid question. “I doubt St. Jude’s really cares where the money is coming from. And, ‘characters’? Really, Chloe? What is this, black-and-white movie?”

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