Pants on Fire: Southern Seductions, #2

By J.A. Coffey

Meet Chase Weston, a man who must reveal his troubled past to regain his chance for true love. The Southern Seductions series continues and it's never been hotter in the South!

From bestselling author J.A. Coffey, Book #2 in her sizzling new contemporary romance series.

Suzanne Collier has always had it easy...she's beautiful, blonde and rich-a society girl who hides a tender heart. As a successful charity event organizer, she devotes herself to helping others. But when an old flame who broke her heart resurfaces, she's ready to pull out all the stops and beat him at his own game.


Golden Boy Chase Weston, is a smoldering hot playboy being groomed for a national sportscasters desk. He let Suze slip through his fingers once, but now he needs her to bring his real dreams to fruition. Now he's got to use every play in his game book to bag the hottest babe in Hotlanta and convince her to trust him again.

Where there's smoke, there's sure to be fire!

Southern Seductions series:
•LIAR LIAR

•PANTS ON FIRE

•HELL ON HEELS

•DOUBLE DOG DARE

•UP ALL NIGHT- coming soon!
 

• Language: English
• Publisher: J.A. Coffey
• Release date: Mar 12, 2015
• ISBN: 9781524275792

Book preview

All rights reserved. This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual individuals or businesses is purely coincidental.

PANTS ON FIRE

Book 2 of Southern Seductions

By J.A. Coffey

Copyright (c) 2015 J.A. Coffey

Cover by Talina Perkins at Bookin’It Designs

Editing by Jody Wallace of Meankitty Publishing

This e-book is sold on condition that it shall not be lent, resold, hired out, or otherwise circulated without the copyright owner's consent, and without a similar condition being imposed on a subsequent purchaser or the romance gods will torment you for the rest of your days. Which may actually be fun.

About this book:

Suzanne Collier has always had it easy...she’s beautiful, blonde and rich—a society girl who hides a tender heart. As a successful charity event organizer, she devotes herself to helping others. But when an old flame who broke her heart resurfaces, she’s ready to pull out all the stops and beat him at his own game.

Golden boy Chase Weston is a smoldering hot playboy being groomed for a national sportscasting desk. He let Suze slip through his fingers once, but now he needs her to bring his real dreams to fruition. He’s got to use every play in his game book to bag the hottest babe in Hotlanta and convince her to trust him again.

The series continues when Suze uncovers this playboy’s playbook and the game gets serious. Where there’s smoke, there’s sure to be fire.

TABLE OF CONTENTS

Copyright Information

Blurb

Chapter One

About the Author

Recipe & Extras

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Chapter One

Chase Weston hadn’t intended to rekindle the flames of passion when he entered the ballroom. That wasn’t in his playbook for tonight and he’d thought that fire had long since burned out. But the moment he saw Suzanne Collier again, his game plan went out the window. One look at her sent every rational thought right out of his head.

It was a glittering, magical October evening, the kind where anything could happen. The leaves were changing for autumn, dressing up in shades of green, red and gold. He waved at a few cheering fans and the paparazzi staking out the entrance to the Children’s Hospital Charity Ball. Flashbulbs went off like fireworks as he strolled to the entrance and through the double doors, with his agent, Billy Vetch, three paces behind him, yammering into his mobile phone.

Suze sailed around the society fishpond of the charity ball looking more elegant than ever. Chase swallowed hard. The woman was flawless. His hand tightened involuntarily on the silver head of his cane. Unless you counted his dreams, he hadn’t laid eyes on her in almost a decade, not since college. Though he’d come here for a secret purpose, one that had nothing to do with passion or romance, his heart still pounded in his chest. He’d thought he was over her by now.

Damn him. How had he ever let her go? She was a swan amongst the geese, wearing a platinum dress, simple and sleek, that showed off her lean figure and complemented a pair of green eyes the color of Astroturf. Suze pulled a cell out of a tiny purse and stepped past a heavy velvet curtain for privacy. The perfect opportunity to get her alone.

He took a half step in her direction when a voice brought him up short. Weston? Is that you? asked a man in a tux near the bar.

His cane tangled in his rain coat, almost tripping him, and he cursed. Chase put on his game face before he turned—the one he reserved for fans.

But this was no fan. Not exactly.

The speaker was a handsome black man with an athletic build, and he knew the guy.

Hey! DeAngelo Smith, right? How are you, man? DeAngelo had been the rival quarterback at West Atlanta High. The two of them had duked it out for newspaper coverage and college scholarships, with Chase being the victor. He’d lost track of him after his junior year at Auburn...the year he’d met Suze.

Chase Weston, the infamous ole Number Twenty-Two! DeAngelo laughed and clapped him on the back. How you doing, buddy?

Back at ya. Chase really needed to talk to Suze tonight, but the way she made his pulse race probably meant he could use a time out. He leaned against the wood paneled bar counter. What did you end up doing, Smith? Haven’t seen you for ages. I heard you went to Ole Miss. DeAngelo had been a good quarterback. Their friendly rivalry had inspired Chase to push harder on the field—to be the best.

DeAngelo sobered. Yeah, things got rocky. Couldn’t keep up with the classwork. Lost my scholarship. Had to drop out. Gave up the game. DeAngelo spread his hands wide. No big deal, though. I’m hanging in there.

Aw, man. I’m...I’m sorry. That’s a raw deal. Chase gripped the silver head of his cane a little harder than necessary. So, they’d both washed up. At least he’d come further than most aspiring athletes. Still, some days losing his dream felt almost worse than never having attained it.

Yeah, I’m getting by. DeAngelo shifted his weight. His teeth flashed against his dark skin. You look good, Weston. Still keeping in shape for the ladies?

Chase laughed. Something like that. Actually, he just hadn’t been able to bring himself to stop the pre-season exercise regimen. It was habit now, with the side benefit that it kept the muscles in his damaged leg from deteriorating any further. You seem to be doing all right for yourself. You here for something in particular? Chase’s gaze wandered to the velvet curtain. I hear the bidding at these things is fierce. If he could bid on the affections of a certain gorgeous blonde, he would shell out every last dollar in his wallet.

No. DeAngelo gave him an odd smile and shook his head. I’m working, Weston. I tend bar down at The Pub. Got hired to serve at this party.

Chase rubbed a palm over his chin to hide his embarrassment. He should’ve recognized the rented wait staff uniform since he’d been to enough of these things.

Oh, hey. Chase gave a nervous laugh and tried again. I’m...sorry. He didn’t know what to say. Sometimes, no matter how Vetch dressed him up, he still felt like the biggest phony that ever walked out of the Atlanta projects.

The words hung between them until DeAngelo shrugged.

No worries. We can’t all be good at everything. Not all of us went pro, ya know? Smith gave him a considering look and pushed a lowball of bourbon on the rocks across the counter. Here, buddy. Looks like you could use this.

Thanks. Chase’s face heated.

He was as tense as a hamstring before warm up. The drink was tempting; it might take the edge off. What he hoped to accomplish tonight required more finagling on his part than he was used to, since he usually left that up to Billy.

But he couldn’t ask Billy to do this. In fact, he’d brought it up to his agent a couple months ago—and Billy had advised against it. Emphatically.

The bourbon sparkled at him like a cheerleader’s smile. He really shouldn’t. Wouldn’t do him or his kidneys any good, and he’d had to be extra careful since his injury had gone septic and almost killed him. His fingers played on the rim of the glass.

Have you seen Suzanne Collier around? I hear she’s organizing this thing. He readjusted the raincoat draped over his arm.

Last I saw, she was near the kitchens. Smith pointed vaguely in the direction of the red curtain. Tell her thanks for thinking of me. My son just started middle school football. City league. Kid’s got some real talent. But it costs, you know? Equipment, camps and stuff. That’s why I needed this gig. Make a little extra on the side, so the boy don’t end up like his old man. DeAngelo gave him a friendly clap on the back. Maybe you could meet him sometime and give him a few pointers about making it in the pros? Kid’s got a great pair of hands. You can show him what it takes to be a winner. DeAngelo mimed catching a long pass.

Sure, sure, Chase mumbled, scanning the crowd signing up for bid numbers for the upcoming auction. He wasn’t sure he remembered what winning felt like. Would tonight change all that?  Or grind it into him like a grass stain? Hope he’s doing as well off the field.

He tries. I was real sorry to hear about your knee. DeAngelo walked behind the bar counter and started setting up beer bottles. I always thought you’d make it big. You were one of the good guys, Weston. Bad luck things got cut short. The bottles clinked lightly on the bar top.

Yeah. If you could call almost losing his leg and his life ‘bad luck,’ then yeah. His million-dollar smile was getting harder to keep in place.

Chase downed half the glass in one swig. He needed some liquid courage before he spoke to Suze. He’d waited long enough.

The bourbon went down smooth, dispelling the bad taste from his mouth. He tapped the end of his cane against the bar.

Listen, my agent’s around here somewhere. Billy was probably already schmoozing everyone he could find, and then some—part of Operation Choir Boy, as he jokingly called it. Give him your contact info and I’ll see about stopping by to meet...what’s his name? The harsh party lights started to soften around the edges.

Ethan, DeAngelo said. Ethan Smith. He’ll be thrilled. Thanks, Weston. DeAngelo pumped his hand like he was hammering a yard marker into the turf.

Sure. Chase thought he might puke. See you.

He managed to stumble away from the bar without losing it. His hand was slick on the head of his cane and he fought to keep his balance.

Damn his knee and damn DeAngelo Smith.

Maybe seeking out Suze wasn’t such a great idea. She hadn’t exactly tracked him down...not since he’d given her up to focus on his career. A path that had led him to some of the darkest moments in his life. Still, the memory of Suze had always been there in the back of his mind, a beacon as bright as stadium lights.

He limped past the velvet curtain and realized it led to a service hallway. Suze’s voice echoed down the corridor, with an icy edge he’d never heard before. Of course, he hadn’t heard from her since that night he’d broken her heart. Not once.

Quit calling me, she demanded to whoever was on the other end of the phone. Her posture was ramrod straight.

Oh, that sounded bad.

Her hair was pulled up in one of those fancy styles that probably took hours to create. Chase couldn’t stifle the sizzle of attraction that zipped through him at the sight of her. His body reacted in ways he couldn’t control as she shook her head, a silent protestation. The gesture was useless, as whoever was on the line couldn’t appreciate the view of Suze brewing a minor thundercloud. A wispy piece of hair fell out and tickled the back of her neck. His fingers itched to touch it, to see if it was as soft as he remembered.

For the better part of ten years, he’d forced himself not to think about her, not to imagine her legs wound around his waist or her soft sighs of pleasure. Chase exhaled slowly. Now here he was, right back at the starting lineup, with his pants tightening around a desire he’d thought he’d long since conquered.

He wanted to kiss her so badly his mouth watered. Or maybe it was the bourbon.

No. Way. There’s no excuse for what you did. The heel of her shoe tapped against the floor, punctuating each word.

He probably shouldn’t interrupt this conversation. Then again, it didn’t seem like she was enjoying it. Maybe she would welcome the intrusion.

This conversation is over. Goodbye, Caroline. She thrust the phone into her shiny silver handbag and whirled around, coming up short when she saw him.

Hello, Blondie. He smiled. Long time no see.

Her eyes widened and then narrowed. Her brows drew together and recognition pulled down the corners of her lips. Suze lifted her chin. Her fingers tightened on the strap of her purse.

Hello, Chase. She gave him a chilly nod. How nice to see you again.

Nice was clearly not what she was feeling. Her pretty face was frozen in about the least welcoming expression he’d ever seen. Chase’s smile faltered. This wasn’t the Suze he remembered, the Suze of his dreams.

The Suze he needed now like he never had before.

Nice? He raised a brow. I don’t recall ever being labeled that. Not by you, Blondie. You were always the nice one. He swirled his lowball tumbler, clinking ice against the sides.

Should I take it back? she asked with a perfect social smile.

Suddenly, he was glad for a drink in his hand. She was a tall woman, especially in four-inch stilettos. He had no idea how she balanced in those things, but they made his knee ache. Hell, everything made his knee ache.

No, I agree. It is nice to see you again. What’s it been, ten years? Chase shifted his weight, the tip of his cane digging into the tiled floor.

Her gaze lingered on his hand clutching the top of his cane and then darted away, a crack in her mask of indifference. Chase swallowed hard as the hot flush of humiliation crawled up his throat. He’d never expected pity, not from her.

I honestly don’t know. She squared her shoulders and tried to brush past him. Are you here for the charity auction? I’m sure your adoring fans would love a photo opportunity.

C’mon now. Don’t be like that. He couldn’t let her get away this easily, not after bolstering his courage to track her down after all this time. Not after he’d had to feed Billy some bull crap about how attending all these galas was about improving his reputation in Atlanta society. Operation Choir Boy and all that shit. When Billy saw him with Suze, his game plan would be as obvious as a Madden play-by-play diagram. Actually, I came to see you. He followed her down the hall and past the curtain back into the charity ballroom.

I can’t imagine why, Suze replied over her shoulder. She moved swiftly for a woman tottering on miniature stilts.

Chase struggled to keep up. She was getting away already. Wait. I wanted to talk to you about—

An eruption of camera flashes went off as they reentered the ballroom. Suze shaded her eyes to block the lights and Chase reshaped his expression to a smile. He waved at the journalists and another explosion of flash bulbs pulsed like disco lights.

Is all this for the auction? Suze looked around. I didn’t contact the affiliate stations for coverage. Just the Atlanta Weekly Journal society column.

Another flash popped and the AWJ photographer gave them a thumbs-up sign. Suze’s smile seemed frozen in place. Chase didn’t like it. Not one little bit.

He suspected he knew why the photographers were present.

Chase, did you find...oh, hello there. Billy Vetch brushed crumbs off his tie.

Every local station and newspaper is here. Chase murmured through his teeth, intercepting his agent and keeping his smile in place. Is this your doing?

Might have been. Vetch didn’t look the least displeased, unlike the platinum thunderhead at his side. Gotta keep you in the headlines, somehow.

Suze raised her eyebrows. Chase cleared his throat. Well, hell. This was happening sooner than he wanted it to. He hadn’t even gotten to talk to Suze.

Billy Vetch? May I introduce the infamous Suzanne Collier? Suze and I are old...ah...friends.

Lucky for him, Suzanne was conscious of basic social graces. She held out her hand to Vetch.

Vetch took her hand, but Chase could tell from the expression on the shorter man’s face he wasn’t pleased. Hello, Ms. Collier. You can call me Billy. I’m Mr. Weston’s agent.

Handler is more like it. And I’m afraid all the press coverage is Billy’s doing. Chase shifted the damp raincoat draped on his arm and sloshed his drink over the side of his tumbler. He cursed his clumsiness and gave Suze a sheepish smile. She compressed her lips again.

He’d never been much of a drinker. He’d been too busy in college with the regimented physical training. After the accident, he was even less inclined to damage his body further, but tonight, he’d needed a little courage, especially after running into DeAngelo Smith.

It’s a pleasure to meet you, Suze replied, dutifully. Her nose wrinkled at Chase’s dripping fingers. I appreciate the extra press. The Children’s Hospital is a worthy cause.

As she watched, he licked the bourbon off his fingertip rather than wipe it on his dress pants like some kind of chump.

Those green eyes of hers seemed to turn a shade darker. Maybe she didn’t hate him. But she probably felt sympathy, not anything more worthwhile.

Don’t mention it. The pleasure is all mine. Vetch’s gaze locked briefly on her tits, probably because they were eye level for the squat agent.

So, what brings you two here? Suze asked. Though her words were polite, her eyes scanned the room restlessly. Either she was only half attuned to the conversation or she was doing a good job of pretending not to care.

Chase gritted his teeth in a smile. He suspected the latter. She knew damn well he’d come to see her.

And now that Billy had met her, Billy probably knew it too. He wasn’t looking forward to that conversation, but he was the boss, after all.

Just checking out the scenery. Supporting a local cause. Chase shifted the cane discreetly behind his draped coat. The movement brought Suze’s attention back to him. It’s a little easier these days.

Hmmm. Suze crossed her arms. You don’t say.

When he’d been a pro player, he’d lived in Miami. Since his injury, he’d bought a house in Atlanta and forced himself to build a new life out of the ashes of his dreams. Billy had one vision of Chase’s future, and Chase had a slightly different one. His new dreams included Suze, but he needed to stay focused. Increasingly harder to do, with the way she looked tonight.

I do. It’s great to be home. And it’s great to see you. You look good, Blondie. He tossed her a winning grin. If she was holding a grudge, it could ruin everything. He’d been trying to cross paths with her casually for months, without Billy realizing what he was up to, but she’d somehow ducked him at every turn.

Almost like she was avoiding him on purpose.

That tired old nickname? Lightning flashed behind her eyes. Surely you could come up with a better adjective to describe me? She lifted her chin.

Shit. That was an expression he did recognize. Trouble.

Ahem. Vetch cleared his throat. We wouldn’t miss the most promising evening event in Atlanta society, Miss Collier. He elbowed Chase discreetly in the ribs.

Chase grunted, but barely flinched. He eyed her, trying to figure out his next play. How could he broach his desired topic when Billy’d just given him a we need to talk signal and Suze clearly wanted to be anywhere but standing next to him?

Yes, he echoed. Promising. It was killing him to be this close to her and not be touching. He stared at her, recommitting the lines of her face to memory. The urge to reach for her was strong enough that his fingers twitched on the cane.

I didn’t notice your names on the roster. Suze’s eyes unfocused for a moment; he could almost see the guest list scanning behind her eyes as she mentally rechecked it.

I confess. They’re not on it, he apologized, taking her hand. I hope that’s okay. Her fingertips were icy and smooth, like she was carved out of marble. A far cry from the warm and willing woman he remembered.

Of course. She pulled her hand away. A bite in her tone left no room for misunderstanding. She looked like she could grind diamonds with her teeth. Meredith Morgan is the chairperson. With all this press coverage, she’ll be thrilled.

He didn’t care what anyone else thought. Billy thought they were here to heal Chase’s playboy reputation as the networks courted him for a sportscasting position, but that wasn’t the only reason. He’d come for the primary purpose of tracking her down. It hadn’t occurred to him she might be less than enthusiastic to see him again. Suze had always been such a sweetheart, and he’d assumed she’d grown out of their youthful infatuation.

Even if it seemed he hadn’t, not with the way his heart was thudding.

Chase tried another play. We figured you wouldn’t turn down a few party crashers, as long as a contribution to the cause was made. He patted the coat of his jacket, emphasizing the check book outlined against his lapel.

And it’s for a great cause, Billy interjected with false enthusiasm. I told Chase this was the place to be tonight. He waved Chase’s bid card in the air, as if it was a box ticket to the Super Bowl.

Then we’ll be seeing you two at the silent auction? Wonderful. She plowed ahead, scarcely waiting to see what he did. If you’ll excuse me, I believe the dessert buffet needs some attention.

She left as rapidly as decorum and her stilettos allowed.

So that’s Suzanne Collier. Vetch, next to him, gave a low whistle. The same Suzanne Collier you wanted to track down a couple months for your little pet project. His eyes were plastered on the beautiful blonde. Not that I can blame you for wanting to see her again, but this isn’t a coincidental meeting, is it?

Not exactly. Vetch’s obvious ogling irritated him. As did his continued assumption that his negating Chase’s idea meant Chase wouldn’t pursue it. It won’t hurt anything if I just talk to her about it.

You sure all you want to do is talk to her? Newspaper clips don’t do her justice. She’s even better in person. Hell, Vetch was practically panting.

Just talk, Chase repeated. If he wasn’t careful, he was liable to smash his fist into something. Like Vetch’s face. Put your tongue back in your head. She’s off-limits.

Maybe for you. She didn’t look too happy to see you. I still can’t believe you let that one slip through your golden fingers. His agent’s eyes devoured her greedily.

You think you have what it takes to nail her down? Chase gritted. He toyed with his almost empty glass on the wait tray and then pushed it away.

I’d like to nail her, for sure. Vetch gave him a chin jerk. How long have you been planning this? I thought we decided you were going to let your pet project sit until after you get the sportscasting job. His eyes narrowed behind his round wire rimmed glasses.

I can look into two things at once, Chase argued. It’s not like associating with a member of Atlanta’s high society is going to hurt my rep, Billy. I need her.

Boy, did he.

Her astute fundraising talents, her considerable financial resources, and her high society connections. He wasn’t ready to put his proposal on the table, but he’d been thinking about it for quite some time. He needed her know-how and skills to bring it to fruition. Her expertise and her encouragement. Google could only help him so far.

What you need is to concentrate on the sportscasting job. Vetch eyed him. Speaking of which, you look like shit, Weston. Not good with all these cameras. What’s your problem?

Nothing. Chase donned his famous smile and nodded at a few partygoers. Another round of flashes from the cameras made him see stars. Just thinking.

You? Thinking? Billy snorted. C’mon, Weston. That’s what you pay me for.

Chase gave him a dirty look, then reaffixed to a smile in case the cameras were focused in his direction.

Vetch sighed and ran a hand over his thinning hair. You honestly think creating some charity for kids is going to make you a decent living? You’ve got a face for television and a mind for sports. The T.V. syndicates are lining up to make you an offer. Don’t let all that go to waste.

Pretty much all I’m good for these days, huh? Vetch didn’t respond. I just thought it might be nice to give something back. Chase tapped his cane on the floor. He felt stretched thin, uncomfortable, more than he should be at one of these hoity-toity society things he and Vetch had started attending to improve his public image.

A bit of an uphill battle. Before the accident he hadn’t given a damn about his image. He’d been a sought-after NFL quarterback enjoying the benefits of good looks, a big salary, and athletic stardom. Now he only had his looks and the money.

Why you can’t just donate money to some charity—your new salary ought to be big enough, Vetch said. "Take the job, get even more famous, and then help some snot-nosed brats.

Because I want to do more, Chase decided. Might as well let Vetch in on the truth. Look, I have no problem with Operation Choir Boy. I know I gotta settle down if I want to be seen as a viable choice for ESPN or one of the other networks. Have I given you any trouble with that?

No, Vetch admitted. Unless you plan on starting something up with Suzanne Collier. A choir boy would never have a chance with that chick.

Chase’s cheeks heated. "It’s not about that, it’s about the project. I