Chasing his Ex (Chasing Her #2)

1. Ava

Chapter 1

Ava

There are moments in life when you don’t believe it can get any better, but you wish it could.

I have a job and family I love. I’ve loved and lost, but come out of it stronger. At least once I made good of my life. Yes, it’s harder than it should be, but I take every day as a blessing.

As a lawyer, I work in acquisitions and mergers, a decision I made at the last minute. I was going to go into family law because I had plans to become self-employed rather than the route I took on the corporate ladder.

I'm glad because my colleagues are my best friends.

“Come for a drink after work on Friday,” Charlie says. “We haven’t had a drink after work for ages. I’ll drag Jade, Sophie, and Amber too.”

I chew on the inside of my cheek, thinking of that. “Okay, only one, though. You know I like to get home to Emmy.”

The girls normally have a wind down cocktail after work on a Friday evening.

“Okay, just one.” She winks as I press to bring the elevator. “Are you meeting Jameson?”

“Yes, and it’s just coffee, Charlie.” I smile. I have no expectations of my mini dates with Jameson. We have an understanding. In reality, I have no choice. It’s fine though, things work well as they are.

I enter the elevator and press for the ground floor and wait.

When the door to the elevator opens, I step forward, but only make a few paces when the heel of my shoe catches on the steel runners at the edge of the tiling.

I slap my hand against the elevator door to prevent it from closing, and lean low, pulling at my heel. But as my heel withdraws from the runner, my body stumbles forward and I fight against the fresh air to stop myself from falling flat on the floor.

I’m not sure if I scream or if I’m deadly silent, but everything goes into slow motion.

And like an idiot, I do what I think is best. I grab for the person trying to enter the car. Grabbing a thick thigh to stop me from falling.

Unfortunately, a masculine grunt fills the air when my body refuses to stop and I collide my head direct with his junk. Understandably, this knocks him back a step, and is probably going to make him infertile.

Fuck! I want to scream.

“Ouch,” I say instead, trying to be a lady, as I land with a crash onto my knees and a loud thud on the floor.

A large hand thrusts into my vision, and another on my waist as I put my other palm flat on the ground, not knowing if I’m hurt or just plain embarrassed.

I put my hand in his and scramble red-faced off the floor.

As I rise, my body flushes against his wide chest as my eyes lock on his. “Got you,” he says.

The hair on my neck stands on end and my body hums from not only the contact but also from his voice.

His hand is still around my waist, and something sizzles through me as I stare at his throat.

My blood is pounding and my breathing is more frantic the longer we remain motionless.

My gaze slowly raises to his and embarrassment and something else flickers through me—definitely heat.

“Thank you,” I say with a flustered breath.

“You’re welcome.” There’s no humor or anything distinguishable in his tone. My eyes fix back onto the muscle tensing in his neck, his jaw ticks and until that point. I think he’s still angry with me. I glance back at his gray eyes.

Gray eyes that are actually full of heat.

“Ava.”

I try to swallow a lump in my throat, but it refuses to budge. “Finn.”

“You work here?”

I nod. Here, is one of the largest high-rise buildings in London with too many companies for me to remember.

“How are you?” I ask, prickles of nervous tension pop over my skin.

Or possibly sexual tension.

Straightening myself up, while trying to calm my raging hormones down—hormones that have gone into a dizzy fight, as mind memory remembers the same masculine scent.

His gaze lowers from my face and down my body. I’m wearing a slim fitting pantsuit and spaghetti strapped top.

After the way we ended, there’s no way he’s looking at me like he’s thinking about sliding his hands on my cheeks and kissing me like he used to.

Maybe around your neck, Ava.

“Ava,” a voice calls from a distance.

Abruptly, Finn releases me, his hands clenched as though he still feels the hurt I gave him, or maybe it’s stopping his hands from hurting me.

I pick my jacket up from the floor, where it fell after my graceless exit, then I glance to my right, seeing Jameson giving me a slow nod and a lift of an eyebrow.

Jameson and I are friends, and honestly, I like the attention he gives me, but we aren’t right for each other, he’s not long out of marriage and me ... I no longer want anything more than what he’s prepared to give me.

My life is too awkward and busy to add in more complications. But a coffee with a handsome, older man is welcome.

Jameson admitted he wants an open relationship, but as I don’t do open relationships, I only offered him friendship. It’s enough for me, and I’m happy about the arrangement. He can have his casual liaisons with others.

It’s supposed to be a win-win situation.

But I also know things are changing. Jameson is getting more attentive. I know he wants more than I’m going to give him.

He narrows his eyes at me, because I’m not making a quick move to where he is, as I usually do. Jameson is dominant, but I’m not a submissive. It would never work between us, regardless.

I hold a finger up to him, another move he doesn’t appear to like.

And when I look back at Finn, the muscles running along his jaw tighten and flex. “Nice to see you, Finn. You’re looking good.”

Good?

Gorgeous, sexy ... but good?

I want to move to Jameson, but it’s as though Finn is magnetic. His pull a force I struggle to overcome. That’s no different from before now. Even the night our relationship crashed around us, I still wanted him—and wanted him to want me.

His voice comes out ragged. “How are you?”

“I’m fine … good,” I breathe. “I’ll let you get on with your day.” I want to say much more, but Jameson’s eyes are burning a hole in the side of my face. “Nice to see you, Finn.”

He smiles. “You too.”

I turn and stride quickly to Jameson. When I get to him, he takes my hand and pulls me to him, kissing my cheek. A public display of affection that he doesn’t do. We don’t have that kind of relationship.

Jameson is American and the CEO of a finance company. We met over a coffee on our lunch break just over three months ago. He’s a divorcee, not looking for a relationship, and wasn’t looking for anything either. But we meet for lunch or coffee, just like friends. My work life and personal life don’t leave me with much time for a lover, but after a few meet ups, Jameson and I came to a mutual agreement.

We still meet for coffee, sometimes dinner, but nothing sexual. What we have is a companion type of arrangement.

“You look nice,” I say. His sharp, expensive navy suit follows every edge of his tall body, from his broad shoulders to a trim waist to his thick thighs.

“Who was that?” he asks when he pulls away.

I glance back, noticing Finn is still looking. I quickly turn back to Jameson. “My ex-boyfriend.”

“How long were you seeing him?” His voice has a tone of annoyance laced in it, as though he found out I have a dirty secret.

“Nearly three years,” I say.

“Oh.”

I’m not too sure how to take his ‘oh.’ Especially since Jameson was married for ten years before his divorce.

“I need a coffee,” I say, shrugging my jacket over my shoulders. The weather is warm outside, but as Jameson likes to sit outdoors, I need to protect my skin from the sun.

“Did you love him?” Jameson asks after the server places two coffees on the table.

“Yes. As I’m sure you loved your wife,” I say, my voice remains calm and indifferent.

“Is he the reason you want to remain as friends?”

I huff a little at that, not understanding where the questions are coming from. “We agreed to be friends, not just me. It was a mutual agreement. You just got out of your marriage and wanted nothing unless it was on your terms. And your terms were open relationship or nothing. I was happy with nothing.”

“Why were you happy with that? Why have you never fought for anything else?”

“Because... it’s all I need...”

“And me,” he says with a hesitation to his tone. “What if I need more?”

I squeeze out a smile, meeting his gaze as I tilt my head to one side and sigh. “You were more than happy with this arrangement we have until I had a two-minute conversation with my ex-boyfriend.”

He swipes his tongue over his bottom lip. “How many ex-boyfriends do you have?”

I close my eyes, knowing where this is going. “One.”

He nods his head slowly, and we hold each other’s gaze for a long moment. Long enough for the smiles to end. “Come to the US with me. I think it’s time for us to take it to the next level.”