Bachelor CEO - Michele Dunaway Men Made in America

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an article. It was easy to understand why women would be attracted to Chase. Miranda had felt that initial quiver of interest herself, before she’d realized exactly who the tall blond guy approaching her was. Chase McDaniel wasn’t quite the boy next door.

      He was a lot hotter and a lot sexier than he looked in the photos she’d seen on the Internet. His pictures had done him justice, but came nowhere close to capturing the man in the flesh.

      His hair was sandy-blond, like something you might find on a California surfer. His ocean-blue eyes had sparkled, and his mouth…To be kissed by those full sensuous lips could only be heavenly.

      His dress shirt hadn’t hidden the fact that he was fit and toned, and the thought of touching his six-pack abs sent chills down her spine.

      He hadn’t bothered to conceal his interest. His attentions had flattered her, as had his willingness to get his hands dirty. He wasn’t such a pretty boy that he was afraid of grease and grime. She’d found him highly attractive and extremely tempting.

      She’d wanted to say yes to his offer of lunch, but no was the safer choice, and Miranda always erred on the side of safety. At thirty-three, she’d given up everything in Chicago and had to make a success of her new life in Chenille.

      Flirting with Chase McDaniel, thirty-five-year-old heir to the McDaniel Manufacturing throne, would only complicate matters.

      She couldn’t let his cheeky grin sway her from her destiny. She’d made that mistake before. She’d fallen fast and hard for Manuel, a dark-haired smooth talker. Eventually she’d figured out his seduction wasn’t about her, but about what he could get from her company. She’d discovered that he was using her to win a big contract between her firm and his. The knowledge he’d lied to her and hadn’t truly cared for her at all had wounded her deeply.

      “You’re all done,” Mr. Bay said, reentering the shop. He wiped his hands, reminding Miranda of Chase. “You’re good to go.”

      Miranda dispelled the image of Chase’s smile. No need for her knees to wobble. She had a long weekend ahead of her, and unfortunately, she’d be seeing him again soon. Tomorrow, in fact.

      The reality was he was a means to her dream job, and she wasn’t going to let her physical attraction to the man stand in the way of finally getting what she wanted—a chance to shatter the glass ceiling. She’d come too far to fail now, no matter how much he’d piqued her interest.

      Cursing under her breath at how unfair life was, Miranda went to pay her bill.

      THE MCDANIEL LODGE on Lone Pine Lake had been in the family since the mid-1950s, when Leroy had purchased the property on a rare whim.

      As Chase climbed the back stairs, he realized that someday, this too would be his. He paused, his hand resting on the cedar railing while he took a minute to gaze past the house to the shoreline.

      Chase had been spending summers at Lone Pine Lake ever since he’d been born, and whatever stress he was feeling always disappeared the minute he stepped out of his car.

      He could understand why his grandfather loved the lodge and why he spent most of the workweek here from Memorial Day to Labor Day. The lodge was like fine wine; it developed more character as it aged. The house sprawled at the top of a grassy knoll and offered a panoramic view of the four hundred feet of shoreline at the front of the property.

      The entire estate consisted of ten acres, and besides the lodge, two small guest cottages sat a short distance away. The lodge itself had five bedrooms and slept fourteen. The cottages each slept four.

      Chase inhaled, letting his lungs and senses fill up with the earthen smells of crisp air and fresh pine. An eagle soared across the water, talons out as it descended to catch a fish. Lone Pine Lake, with its fourteen miles of shoreline, remained an untouched gem. The houses surrounding the McDaniel estate also sat on acreage, and there were no condos or high-rises anywhere on the lake.

      He’d always felt at home here, even more so than at his grandfather’s massive residence in Chenille, where Chase and his siblings had grown up.

      “You going to stand there all day?”

      “Hey, Grandpa,” Chase said as Leroy came around the side of the house with a fishing pole in one hand and a tackle box in the other. There was a boathouse near the dock, but Leroy liked to keep his gear on the screened-in back porch. “Was the fishing any good?”

      “Nah. Still can’t convince me that there are any fish in this lake,” Leroy replied with a snort.

      Chase laughed. The largest fish his grandfather had ever pulled from Lone Pine wasn’t even close to being a keeper. It was the family joke that the fish knew when a McDaniel lure was in the water.

      “I expected you a little while ago. You didn’t have any trouble, did you?” Leroy asked, thumping up the stairs, pole in hand.

      “No.” Chase stepped aside to let him pass. His grandfather was six inches shorter than Chase, and slowly shrinking with age.

      Chase waited while Leroy put away his fishing gear, and then followed him into the spacious kitchen. Decades ago the house had been a hunting lodge, where a cook had prepared meals for many. The room’s most recent updating had been about eight years ago, three years before Chase’s grandmother’s death. His grandfather had little use for the gleaming stainless steel appliances, preferring to simply microwave some soup or a frozen meal when he wasn’t eating out. The local country club was open to the public and had the best food in the area.

      Leroy reached into the big SubZero refrigerator and removed a pitcher of iced tea. “Grab me a glass, will you?”

      “Sure.” Chase opened a cabinet and took out two tall tumblers. Because he hadn’t stopped on the drive up he was hungry and thirsty. “So what did you want me to come up early for?”

      “Did you bring all my work from the office?” Leroy asked, after taking a sip.

      “Everything your secretary gave me,” Chase replied, balancing his own glass. “It’s out in my trunk with my luggage.”

      “That’s fine. I’m going to go wash up. Let’s meet in twenty minutes.”

      “Perfect. I want to unpack and make a sandwich. I missed lunch.”

      “Okay.” Glass in hand, Leroy left the room. Chase drained his iced tea, put the tumbler in the dishwasher and made a turkey sandwich. When finished, he retrieved his cases from the car.

      This was his first visit since closing the house last fall, and as he carried everything in, he looked to see if there were any changes from last year. He wandered through the kitchen and entered the huge vaulted great room.

      He set the big envelope Leroy’s secretary had given him on the dining room table, and paused to take in the view of the water through the front windows. To Chase’s right was a glassed-in porch that could easily seat forty people when filled with tables.

      The great room contained multiple groupings of comfortable sofas and armchairs, beneath a ceiling that rose to twenty-five feet. The bedrooms were located in a wing on the far end of the house, opposite the enclosed sunporch.

      Chase made his way to his bedroom, on the second floor. He unpacked before returning to the great room and curling up in his favorite armchair near the floor-to-ceiling fireplace. He had fond memories of crackling fires that heated the pinkish-colored stones until they were hot to the touch.

      “Ah, good, you’re here,” his grandfather said, emerging from the first-floor hallway that led to the master bedroom and Leroy’s office.

      “I put your stuff on the table,” Chase said.

      “I’ll look at everything later. Are you still hungry? I thought we could swing over to the country club for a quick appetizer and a drink before everyone gets here.”

      “I’m fine,” Chase answered. It wasn’t yet 4:00 p.m. His siblings would start arriving around five-thirty. “You

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