The Sweetest Chase (Heart of the Storm #2)
Also by Sharla Lovelace
The Reason Is You
Before and Ever Since
Just One Day
Stay With Me
Don’t Let Go
Heart of the Storm series
Loving the Chase
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
Text copyright © 2016 by Sharla Lovelace Scroggs
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.
Published by Montlake Romance, Seattle
www.apub.com
Amazon, the Amazon logo, and Montlake Romance are trademarks of Amazon.com, Inc., or its affiliates.
ISBN-13: 9781503953963
ISBN-10: 1503953963
Cover design by Eileen Carey
To my mom, who never doubted that I could fly.
Contents
Author’s Note
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
About the Author
Author’s Note
Cutting to the chase here, as I’m busy writing, writing, writing the next Heart of the Storm book . . . chase . . . did you catch that? (Snicker.) But I wanted to wave and say thank you for reading, and I hope you are enjoying the Chase family so far! I adore them, and I’m so excited to share the next sibling with you.
This is Simon’s book, if you haven’t already gathered that from the blurb, and I love Simon so huge. I had a crush on him in the first book, and writing his book was a dream. So, you know Simon had a little thing for Quinn, right? Even though she was kind of spoken for? Well . . . all I can say is, hold on. Things are about to get crazy, and I hope you like a little steam with your crazy!
Quick thanks again to the Montlake team of superheroes, my editor Maria Gomez, and my agent Jessica Faust. I’m a lucky girl.
Hugs and forever kisses to the loves of my life, my husband Troy and my kids Amanda and Ethan (who are all grown up and probably cringe when I call them kids, but hey, I’m old and I can call ’em whatever I want). Y’all are my rocks, my home base, and my air. Lovessssss.
As usual, stay tuned in to the end of the book . . . Quinn has a certain something she’s dying to have at her wedding, and the recipe for it is at the back.
I love hearing from my readers, so please shoot me a line on Facebook or Twitter (@sharlalovelace) and tell me what you think!
Enjoy Simon and Quinn’s journey! Love is dangerous—stay strong in the storms, my friends.
xoxo
Sharla
Chapter One
Quinn was getting naked back there. Jesus Christ.
The windshield wipers were slamming out a rhythm, the windows were back up, and the hottest woman Simon had ever known was buck-naked two feet behind him.
“That camera isn’t on, is it?” she asked, pointing at the small camera sitting on the console between Zach and Simon. “Crap, what about the mobile cams?”
“Relax,” Simon said, pulling off his soggy ball cap and scrubbing his fingers through his hair. “I turned them off the second you said you were stripping.”
There was a sentence he never expected to say.
“Oh, my God, I knew better than to come on this run,” Quinn said, her voice strained—it sounded like she was wrestling something over her head. “Come on, Quinn,” she said, deepening her voice. “Just a couple of hours, they said. Think of the cloud formations, they said.”
“It was just supposed to be a couple of hours,” Simon said.
“There were some great cloud formations,” Zach chimed in.
Quinn responded with a thwack of a soaking-wet T-shirt against the side of Zach’s neck, and Simon crammed his hat back on, shaking his head.
“Sounded just like you,” he said, looking at Zach.
“I don’t sound like that,” Zach responded, peeling Quinn’s shirt off his skin and dropping it in Simon’s lap.
“You’re no better,” Quinn said, kicking the back of Simon’s seat. “Please, Little Bit, we need you,” she said dramatically, her voice muffled.
“Now that sounded like you,” Zach said, pointing at his brother.
“Need some help?” Simon called to her, ignoring him.
“I’m good,” she grunted. “Damn it. Thought this might happen, so I brought clothes—ow—but a towel would have been nice. God, my mother is never going to let me hear the end of being late to Phoebe’s baby shower.”
“We did need you, for what it’s worth,” Zach said, glancing in the rearview mirror. “We—”
“Eyes on the road, Mr. Getting Married in Two Days,” Quinn said, kicking Zach’s seat in turn.
Zach lifted a splayed hand. “Hey, I’m being a total gentleman here. I’m just saying thank you. We did need you. The Infinity van filming us was great, but we needed an inside eye filming the weather.”
“Or an outside eye,” Simon said, looking at his brother’s profile without caving to the peripheral vision that wanted him to follow. “Since she hangs out the window.”
“Can’t get across what it feels like to be in a storm unless you’re in the storm,” Quinn said.
“Good thing Simon doesn’t mind groping your leg while you anchor down, huh?” Zach asked, grinning at Simon.
Simon gave him a look. “Hey, as long as she doesn’t kick me in the face or strangle me with it, I don’t mind making sure she doesn’t fall out the window.”
And yes, holding on to Quinn’s smooth calf every time she needed to anchor herself around the front seat to lean out and film . . . wasn’t a sacrifice.
Just months earlier, the Dallas-based Internet network Infinity had dangled a carrot. They’d heard of the storm-chasing Chase family of Cody, Texas, and wanted to design a new reality show around them. What started out a little rough and chaotic was now starting to find its footing, and the original contract for the pilot and three episodes had now expanded to ten.
A film contract did not guarantee optimal weather or crew, however, and today was one of those times. Eli, the oldest, was doing a storm-safety guest spot at the station—one of the few things about the show that he conceded was valuable. Hannah, who normally handled the filming and photography on the storm runs, was helping Zach’s fiancée Maddi with last-minute wedding preparations. Therefore, they’d gone out with the minimal team of Zach, Simon, and Quinn at the prospect of some heavy waterspouts over Lake Grapevine. Zach had the storm-sniffing instincts of a wild animal and always drove. He could get them in and out of pl
aces that no one else dared. Simon, who was the team’s weather guru and meteorologist at Channel Four News in his nonchasing time, had seen the cells build up, and the numbers looked good. Good enough to give it a shot. Hannah’s photography assistant Quinn was filling both their shoes in Hannah’s absence, despite having her little sister’s baby shower to go to—but Zach had assured her he’d have her back in time.
Then the clouds had pulled back, doing a little seduction dance with Zach, dropping a ton of rain but no funnels and yet teasing with cloud formations and possibilities. Simon knew his adrenaline-chasing brother wouldn’t be able to resist following that shelf cloud a little longer. It was in his blood.
“Well, you come in and explain that I’m late to a Parker formal function because you were waiting for a cloud to drop a rope for you,” Quinn said, her voice going muffled again. “On second thought, scratch that.”
“Whatever,” Zach said.
“Whatever, my ass,” Simon said, laughing. “You wanted a big one while Eli’s in Dallas and couldn’t fight you on it.”
Big brother Eli was all about family, safety, and going by the rules. He’d witnessed their father die at the hands of a tornado, and was always the one trying to rein in the adrenaline rush that went hand in hand with their line of business.
“No, actually, I wanted a big one before I leave for a week,” Zach said. “I promised Maddi a honeymoon free of all things storm-related.”
Simon knew the memory Zach always kept in the back of his mind. The one from seven years ago, when a tornado ripped into their apartment complex and buried Maddi in the rubble. On what was supposed to have been their wedding day. It had been a long journey back, but there they were again, and he’d promised her a sunny-day wedding with no drama.
“God help you if it rains—”
“It’s not going to rain, Mr. Weatherman,” Zach said, raising his fist in Simon’s direction. “You said there is nothing else brewing all week long, and if you’re wrong—”
“Back it up there, Rocky,” Simon responded, pushing Zach’s fist away. “I’ve barely been at work to do any real research thanks to the film schedule. I’ve had to scam off my connection at the National Weather Service.”
“Just saying,” Zach said, raising his eyebrows.
“I’m just saying,” he said, holding up his hands. “I report it, I don’t make it—”
Simon’s words died in his throat as Quinn’s feet landed on either side of his seat. He and Zach both looked at the foot between them.
“What are you doing, Quinn?”
“Pulling up my leggings,” she said, lifting herself with another grunt.
“Shit,” Simon muttered under his breath. Now she had her legs on either side of him with her pants down. It was too much for one man to take.
“Breathe,” Zach whispered on a laugh as he backhanded Simon in the chest.
With a last oomph, Quinn swung her legs down and turned her back to them. “I’m so sorry, but I need help,” she said, making both Simon and Zach look back.
Where Zach brought his amused gaze back to the rainy stretch ahead, Simon stared at Quinn’s bare back. Bare except for a red bra strap, exposed by an open zipper that she’d wrestled up to just above the small of her back.
“What if I go the wrong way?” Simon asked, teasing in order to prolong the view.
“Then you’d be Zach, not you,” Quinn said over her shoulder.
“Hey!” Zach said. “Nearly married man over here!”
“And what, I’m Saint Simon?” Simon grumbled, pulling up her zipper as slowly as he could without making it a sexual overture.
“Almost there,” Zach said, turning into a gated community and waving at a guard who barely even glanced up. “Tell you what—we’ll swing by your apartment and get your car and drop it by here so you can leave when you want.”
Quinn whipped around. “Really?”
“Least I can do,” Zach said.
She blew out a breath. “That would be great, thank you.” She groaned as she caught sight of herself in the rearview mirror. “God, my hair looks like—” Quinn began twisting her soggy blonde ponytail into a bun. “Have anything up there? Paper clips?”
“Seriously?” Simon asked.
“Any port in a storm,” she said, gesturing impatiently. “C’mon, I need something. Anything.”
Simon dug through his battered leather computer bag and closed his fingers around something. “I have a binder clip,” he said, holding it up.
Quinn sighed. “Sold.” She snatched it from him and somehow fastened her bun with it, tucking in the levers.
“I can’t believe you just made that work,” Simon said.
“It’s not a sure thing yet,” she said, scrubbing at wispy wet bangs and fanning them. “Say a little prayer that it will hold.” She tugged at the red-and-black dress-turned-smock over her leggings, looking for wrinkles. “How do I look? Like an urchin?”
Quinn could look hot clad in a paper bag, but Simon was biased.
“Nah, I’ve seen urchins,” Simon said with a wink. “You’ve got ’em beat.”
“I’ll pinch your ear with this clip,” she said, closing her eyes and shaking her head.
“Not while it’s the only thing holding your hair up, you won’t,” Simon said, reaching back to pat her knee. “Relax, it’s your family, not a firing squad. And it’s just a shower. I’ve never seen you so keyed up.”
“It’s my mother,” she corrected. “And nothing is ever just anything with Adelaide Parker. You’ve met her—” Quinn stopped, gasping, tearing through the duffle bag and nearly crawling onto the floorboard. “Oh, shit!”
“What’s the matter?” Zach said, pulling up in front of a large, gated Tudor-style house. A line of high-end SUVs with various baby-themed bumper stickers crowded the curb.
“Shoes!” she cried, slapping her hands over her face. “I forgot shoes.”
“You have your boots,” Zach said, chuckling.
“No!” she said, her voice quavering. “They don’t go and they’re covered in mud.”
“Hey,” Simon said, turning around. Her tone wasn’t right. Quinn wasn’t one to rattle easily; in fact, she was probably the most levelheaded, quick-thinking woman he’d ever met. And right now, she was rattled. “You okay?”
Her deep-green eyes met his briefly before she blinked away, and he saw trouble in there.
“Yeah,” she said softly. “Just—” She stopped and shook her head. “Just a little too much family lately.”
“Wedding planning will do that,” Zach said.
“Come on,” Simon said, getting out and opening her door to avoid further talk about Quinn’s upcoming knot-tying. “Go explain and make them all laugh about it. You’re good at lighting up a room.”
Quinn climbed out and straightened clothing that looked pretty damn good, considering how it had made it onto her body.
“You look beautiful,” Simon said.
She gave him a grateful smile that didn’t quite reach her anxious eyes. “You always say that.”
He shrugged. “Well, it’s usually true.”
She chuckled wearily. “And today I look like a drowned rat,” she said, holding up a hand. “Don’t say you’ve seen those, too.” She took a deep breath. “All right, I’m going in,” she said, handing Simon her keys. “Thank you for doing that.”
“Good luck.”
“Break a leg!” Zach yelled.
“My luck, I will,” she muttered, turning and heading up the long wet sidewalk on bare feet, a big purple box under her arm.
Simon watched her turn back and mouth Save me as she made a face and disappeared behind a gate. He chuckled as he got back in the vehicle, then did a double take at Zach’s look.
“Shut up,” Simon said.
“Haven’t said a word,” Zach said, pulling away from the curb.
“You don’t have to,” Simon said. “You have Mom’s eyebrow-raise down.”
“You’ve got it
bad, bro,” Zach said.
Simon fastened his seat belt. “I don’t have anything,” he said. “Just drive.”
“You’re ate up.”
Simon rubbed at his face, exhausted. “Thanks for the observation.”
“And you’re running out of time,” Zach said. “Her big day is right around the corner, too.”
“I’m aware.”
“When is it?” Zach asked. “Maddi knows, but I’m—”
“Clueless, I know,” Simon finished for him. “A month,” he said then, feeling the kick to his nuts he’d been experiencing lately every time he heard the words. “Quinn gets married in a month.”
Chapter Two
Quinn stood outside the big wooden double doors, looking up at the knocker as if she actually had a choice. She rolled her head on her neck to hear the satisfactory popping of stress relief and took a deep breath.
“Get on with it,” she said under her breath, adjusting the big purple and silver wrapped package under her arm. “No time to mess around.”
The door opened as she reached for the handle.
“Quinny!”
Quinn widened her eyes and stretched her mouth into a smile, then dropped her gaze to her sister’s feet.
“Phoebe!” she cried through her teeth. “I’m so sorry I’m late—give me your shoes.”
Her sister’s eyebrows lifted in question. “What?”
“Say your feet hurt,” Quinn whispered in a rush, pointing to her bare feet. “I changed in the car and I forgot to pack shoes.”
“Why did you change in the car?”
Quinn sighed and worked to dial back her impatience. “I had to work, that’s why I’m late. We were filming on the other side of Fort Worth and it ran over, so I changed in the backseat going down the highway. Please?” Quinn begged. “Don’t make me go before that pack of wolves like this.”
“Jesus, Quinn,” Phoebe said dramatically, kicking off the black Manolos. “Just so you know, I love these shoes.”
“And I’ll love them, too,” Quinn said, rubbing her sister’s belly. “Besides, aren’t pregnant women supposed to wear flats or something? Lord, you’re huge.”
Phoebe’s mouth dropped open and she swatted at Quinn’s shoulder. “Don’t you know better than to tell a hormonal pregnant woman how big she is?”