“Anywhere. Just don’t hurt me,” he laughed.
“I wouldn’t hurt you...well, maybe just a little.” She smiled.
“This means you win.”
Her tongue darted out at the corner of her mouth.
“Thank you,” she mouthed soundlessly.
Later, seated beside Chance at a tented table, she waited for the equipment return line to lessen. Stripping out of her paint stained clothing Sinclair still couldn’t believe she’d spent an entire day crawling around in the dirt.
Dark purple and olive green bruises blanketed her arms and legs. Her protective camouflage hadn’t done much for her. Painfully, she snapped the pants over her sneakers.
Picking at some of the paint on her shoe, she asked, “Chance is this paint washable.”
He stared at her shoes. “No.”
“You owe me a pair of shoes.”
“Gladly. How about I pay you back with dinner.”
“Dinner. I said shoes.”
“How about a helicopter ride?”
She stopped picking at the paint on her shoes, and looked at Chance in disbelief. “Helicopter ride? Do you ever listen?”
“I’m listening. Right now. Let’s take a ride over the Susquehanna.”
“I’m sore and tired.”
“The sun will be setting soon. It would be relaxing.”
“No thanks.”
“It wouldn’t take long.”
“No,” insisted Sinclair.
“Why not?”
“I am tired, and I don’t do heights.”
“Why don’t you try something different? Come on, give me your gear.”
He took the ball of clothes and helmet from her arms.
“Chance, really.”
After returning their gear, Chance dragged her through the parking lot to his truck.
“Chance, I can drive my own car.”
“I don’t trust you. You might go home.”
“Who me?” she smiled.
Standing at the passenger door, he waited for her to get in.
“I swear. You act like I’m going to run or something.” She struggled with the height from the ground to the truck.
Chance twisted her around to face him, lifted her into the air. “Watch your head.” He plopped her in the seat. Buckling the seat belt across her, he said, “You would run away.”
Wood, dirt, grass, air—he smelled like the outdoors. The stubble growing on his jaw line rubbed against her forehead as he pulled away from her.
“Maybe. Where is this place? I look a mess. What are they going to think?”
“Don’t worry about it. The pilot is a friend of mine.”
“You know a lot of people.”
He settled into the seat beside her. “I guess.”
The short drive to the small, private airport went quickly. She barely had time to sift through Chance’s programmed country music stations to the sole AM urban station. The scratchy reception forced her to listen to country music.
“You don’t like country?”
“It’s okay. Shania Twain, Faith Hill...somebody like that.”
“You know country and hip hop have a lot in common.”
“Yeah, I think all music has something in common.”
“It’s all about hardship, heartache, winning some or losing some.”
“I know. But the stories are told so differently.”
“That doesn’t mean there isn’t some neutral ground.”
“But it makes it harder to find.”
“So, you like things easy.”
“No, I like things uncomplicated.”
“What does that mean, Sinclair? Uncomplicated?”
“That means aren’t we here?” Sinclair scanned the small airfield for their helicopter.
“Yes, we are here. But you didn’t answer my question. What’s so complicated?”
“Chance, I thought we were going to fly around in a helicopter...not talk about anything—”
“Anything like what?”
“Which one of these things are we getting in?” She opened the truck door and hopped out.
Chance stepped out, too. “Follow me.”
When they stopped, she stood in front of a huge doorless monstrosity.
“What is this?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean...where are the doors?”
“It gives you a better view.”
As big as she could make the steps backwards, she did. Chance must be crazy. “What? No way. I’m not getting in that thing.”
Chance grabbed her by the arm. “Tom, this is my friend, Sinclair.”
“Nice to meet you, Sinclair. I see you don’t like helicopters.”
“Well, I’ve never been in one, but I thought it would have doors.”
“The cabin has doors. But not today. We’ve got seatbelts,” said the pilot through waves of belly laughter.
“Will they stop me from falling to my death like doors?” she asked.
“You’ve got a funny one today, Chance.”
“Today, huh? Who’d he have yesterday, Tom?”
Tom’s belly bounced up and down when he laughed.
Chance reached out to her, and pulled her body into his. He whispered, “Do you care?”
Breaking away, she said, “Never mind. I’m here now. Show me what to do.”
“Hop in. Tom and I will take it from there.”
“You’re trying to kill me.”
“Would you prefer to be at home on your couch watching DVDs all night?”
How’d he know? “Don’t knock it.”
“Scoot over.” He secured her seatbelt, then his own. He handed her a headset. “Here put this on.” He pointed to three buttons on the side of the one he wore. He pressed one of them. “Press this one to talk to Tom, this one for me, and this one for both of us okay.”
Smoothly, quietly the helicopter’s skids floated off the ground.
“Oh, my God!” Her foot tapped against the floor. Reaching for Chance, she rested her head on his chest.
He wrapped his arms around her. “It’s okay.” He said through the headset.
His voice soothed her.
Wavering, she opened her eyes. Streaks of burnt orange reflected off the shimmering river. Sycamore and White Oak trees dominated the river banks. As the helicopter flew over them, their branches shook as if waving.
Fluidly pivoting right, the helicopter flew directly toward the sleeping sun.
She pressed the button for everyone. “It’s beautiful.”
Chance’s arm around her tightened; his lips brushed against her uncovered ear as he said, “I knew you’d like it.”
The swoosh of the helicopter blades made it hard to hear him even with his mouth so close or maybe it was the heat in her belly blocking out his words.
She responded through the headset. “I thought it would be like a roller coaster. My stomach does flips on them...even airplanes.”
He twirled her locs around his fingers as he brushed them away. Soft and silky his hair brushed across her forehead. “I don’t know why you don’t trust me.”
Rocking her head back and forth she didn’t say a word because she couldn’t think of what to say. Maybe the paint fumes were getting to her. The intoxicating scent of his body mingled with the smells of the outdoors. She wanted to continue being touched by this warmth.
He kept whispering reassuring words. “I’m not a bad person, Sinclair.”
“I never said you were.” She whispered back. Pressing the button for everyone, she said, “So, tell me what other woman Tom?”
Tom didn’t respond.
“You should admit you’re jealous?”
“No, why would I be jealous? I’m curious. Is this part of your whole good guy seduction?”
“Oh, so you think I’m trying to seduce you?”
The helicopter bounced, she squeezed his waist.
“Sorry about that,” Tom’s voice boomed into her ear.
“Be careful, I’m working with a rookie back here.” Chance’s voice boomed through the headset.
“OK.” said Tom.
Chance turned his words, and his attentions back to Sinclair. “So, where were we? Oh, yeah, you think I’m trying to seduce you.”
“Aren’t you?”
“If I were...would it be a waste of time?” Heat traveled with his hand as it caressed her hip.
“Chance—”
Soft and warm his mouth pleaded with hers. His tongue wiggled across her lips until they parted.
The taste of him flooded her with memories she’d tried to forget. Her body was not letting her push them away. Every remembered touch heightened her need for him again. She sucked his top lip into her mouth, released it and took it in again. Each kiss deepened until she forgot she was in the backseat of a helicopter flying above the Susquehanna River.
His hand slid down her back, and cupped her butt.
“Chance,” she said between kisses.
He pulled her in closer to him breaking the kiss. “Yes.”
“Chance, what do you really want from me?”
He turned her face to meet his gaze. He removed her headset, then his own. He placed his hand over one ear, Sinclair, all I know is I want to be with you. I cannot lie to you about that. I wanted you before Vegas. While we were in Vegas. And I still want you now.”
She copied his moves, and placed her mouth next to his ear. “I know, but it’s not something we can have.”
“If we want it we can. What do you want?”
“I don’t know.”
Where did the sun go? The sky had darkened to purple. A cool tranquil moon had replaced the radiant sun.
“Is that all you have to say?”
She rested her head back on his chest. “Yes. For now.”
The swish of the helicopter’s rotors drowned out her words and filled the otherwise still night air.
Chapter Five
The hushed voices outside of Sinclair’s office door distracted her from her latest sales report. Closing her door would be rude, so instead she decided to go to her favorite spot at Carni’s—her secret haven near the rear parking lot. No one ever sat at the patio tables flanking the rear lot.
It was peaceful.
After adjusting the multi-colored umbrella, she sat in one of the wicker chairs, took a sip of her cold green tea, and began to take a second look at her reports.
“Hey, Sinclair.” Chance cast a shadow across the table blocking out the sun, but not its warmth. “What are you doing out here?” he asked.
Nodding at the papers on the table in front of her, she answered, “I just wanted a little quiet to read over these numbers. Where are you coming from?”
He pulled out one of the patio chairs and sat. “Some of the guys from my company came down to work on a project. We went out to lunch.”
“Oh, it must have been important to get you to take a long lunch.”
“Yeah, I guess.” Chance’s voice changed; his eyes became serious. “Sinclair I haven’t seen or heard much from you lately. Is something wrong?”
She stared at her papers, shuffling them around for no reason.
“No, nothing’s wrong. I thought maybe I—we needed a little space.”
“Space from what?” He asked.
Sinclair scanned the parking lot. “Chance, please not here.”
“Okay, tell me where and when? You avoid me. I think you owe me some kind of explanation. Something more than the, we work together, excuse you’ve been giving me.”
As a silent reminder they were still at work, she tapped her papers on the table. For a moment, his gaze followed the motion of her pen on the papers before looking at her again. He leaned forward resting his forearms on the tabletop locking his hands together. The longer she gazed into his eyes, the hotter she felt. The temperature of her tea had dropped since she first sat, but she sipped it anyway in large noisy gulps to quench her sudden thirst. Yes, they needed to talk, but she really didn’t want to do it at Carni’s. “Chance. I have to finish these.” She tapped the pages on the table again. “But we could talk this weekend.”
“Where?” The flat note to his voice hinted at no humor or patience.
“Someplace public.” The words slipped out, and were followed by an awkward giggle.
Unlacing his fingers, he leaned back in his chair. “You think that would stop me.”
“Honestly.”
The nearly empty parking lot captured his attention. He dragged an index finger along his jaw. His profile offered no clues to his thoughts. He spoke without looking at her. “This weekend I’ll call you. I’ll find somewhere dark and out of the way so you won’t have to worry about being seen by anyone we know.”
Her hand went to her stomach. A weird heaviness there made her feel nauseous. “Chance that’s not what I meant.”
This time he faced her. Beautiful blue eyes that normally made her feel safe and comfortable contained no warmth. Words jumbled together in her mind, trying to form some sort of an apology, but she wasn’t sure what she was ready to say. Trapped by his stare, she couldn’t tear her eyes away. Old wicker creaked from years of neglect as he shifted his chair closer to hers. He leaned near her closing the remaining gap. Large hands wrapped around the fragile wicker of her own chair squeezing until his knuckles turned white. “Sinclair, you always do this. You act as if you’re the only one trying to understand what’s going on between us. I want to spend time with you, but you are so damn good at pushing me away. I know I’ve done some things wrong, too, but we need to talk. No more games.”
Without another word, Chance stood, and walked away.
“Hi Sinclair.”
Sinclair didn’t need to look up from her work to know who had entered her office without any sort of notice. Raquel’s voice always seemed to have the same affect on her as nails on a chalkboard, and an alarm clock sounding off on a Saturday morning. Out of courtesy, Sinclair stopped typing to speak with her. “Hi Raquel. Can I do something for you?”
Honeyed words offered an invitation. “No, I just wanted to invite you to my house for a cookout.” Raquel’s wide-eyed angelic expression backed up her words.
“Cookout.” Sinclair didn’t know if she should laugh or take her seriously.
“Sure. This Saturday.” Charades style, Raquel simulated hula dancers while she described the event. “We’re going to have a luau theme. Pig roasting and everything.”
“Saturday?”
She’d already set Saturday aside in her mind as the day for her talk with Chance, but he would understand her attending this event. Even if Raquel had a set-up of some kind in mind it might be a way to break down barriers between her and some of the other co-workers that she knew would be attending.
“Can you make it?” asked Raquel.
Sinclair offered her own sugary-coated words. “I think I can. That would be great. Thanks for thinking of me.”
“Fantastic. I’ll email you all of the information including directions to my house.”
“Okay. Thanks Raquel.”
Warring smiles waited for a concession. It never came. Raquel wore her smile as she walked out of the office. As soon as she left, Sinclair picked up the phone and called Chance. She wanted to let him know, and tell him they’d have to meet maybe next weekend.
The phone rang, but no answer. She dialed his cell phone.
Cool even tones greeted her. “Hello.”
One simple word smacked her with that same nauseous feeling in her stomach. She tried to massage it away as she spoke. “Hi. It’s Sinclair.”
“Hello.”
This time the pain was stronger. It wouldn’t go away. Maybe he just couldn’t hear her. “Can you hear me?”
“Yes.”
Maybe he was so angry with her that he’d changed his mind. “Oh, I thought maybe you couldn’t. Your voice sounds different.” She shook her head back and forth. “Nevermind. This weekend won’t work because of the luau at Raqu
el’s. Can we reschedule? Sunday or next weekend?”
“Yes. We’ll talk about it later. ”
“Okay, bye.” Sinclair hung up confused. She wanted to call him back, and ask him what was the cold act about, but she thought she already knew the answer. Her lunch might not have stayed down if they spoke again.
Chance stood; hung up his cell phone, and placed it back on his hip.
Raquel loitered in front of his desk; her eyes didn’t leave his lips the entire time he was on the phone.
He would have to find Sinclair later to apologize for being so abrupt, but he knew she’d understand when he told her Raquel was examining his tonsils every time he opened his mouth.
“Look Raquel, I guess I can make it after all. My plans have been changed.”
Her head cocked to one side, and slight almost indistinguishable grin curved her lips before it vanished. Green eyes sparkled. Why, he wasn’t sure, but they did. Her eyes continued to shine as glossy pink lips asked, “Can you come early to help me with some of the set-up?” Leaning over his desk, she rubbed a hand up and down his arm. Her breasts nearly fell out of her loose-fitting blouse onto his desk. The image made him chuckle softly. He didn’t think that was the affect she wanted to create. The wide-eyed doe gaze altered, not completely, but for a brief moment the real Raquel glared at him. Sweet Raquel straightened her blouse, stepped back, and said, “I could use your help with some of the set-up. Some of the deliveries have to be handled by me because of a stupid mix-up.”
He knew there was a catch, but Sinclair would be there, so what did it really matter. He leaned back, and said, “What time?”
“Around Noon.”
“Okay.”
After Raquel left, Chance walked to Sinclair’s office. It was empty.
Hickory scented smoke flooded Sinclair’s car through the open driver’s side window as she neared Raquel’s home. She parked on the sun bleached pavers at the back of the house. Raquel had told her noon, but due to a deadline she was late. It was 2:00p.m., but there weren’t many cars, yet. As she walked up the stone paved walkway, she was relieved to see a small crowd.
Slowly, the spit holding a hundred pound gutted pig turned; roasting it evenly over the fire in the hole beneath it. The crowd gathered watched the spectacle, and talked over the music at each other in amazement.
Love's Chance Page 6
