by Judy Duarte
True. Most men might have severed all ties with a son-in-law the minute their only daughter had packed her bags, and Chase suspected Gerald had certainly given that idea a lot of thought. But in the end, he hadn’t let family loyalty sway him, a decision that might have been influenced by the fact the divorce had been Pamela’s idea—for the most part.
Needless to say, Chase had been upset about the split, but it wasn’t because Pamela had broken his heart. At that point in their marriage, the relationship had become so strained, so distant, that he hadn’t been surprised or torn up by his wife’s announcement.
Instead, a daunting sense of failure had settled over him, something he’d found a whole lot harder to deal with.
Defeat had always gone against his grain, and what made matters worse, his entire family had a history of long and happy marriages. So telling his folks that he was getting a divorce had been one of the hardest things he’d ever had to do.
“Have a seat.” Gerald indicated one of several chairs in the room.
“That’s okay. I’ll stand.” Chase crossed his arms and shifted his weight off his bum knee. “If you would have addressed my behavior privately, it wouldn’t be an issue, Gerald. But I don’t appreciate being called on the carpet in front of the other sponsors when a quiet heart-to-heart would have worked.”
“It wasn’t just my idea to call that meeting. Your behavior is a reflection on each of us, and I for one don’t like the bad press.” Gerald took a seat on the Italian leather sofa. “The others don’t care for it, either. And neither does Pammy.”
It still grated on Chase when Gerald referred to his daughter with the nickname he’d given her as a child. She was a college graduate, for Pete’s sake. Besides, she’d cut all ties to Chase several years ago. “I’m not sure what Pamela has to do with this.”
“Aw, hell, Chase. Everyone knows the two of you used to be married. And for that reason alone, it’s a bad reflection on her.”
Chase figured Gerald might be more concerned about the reflection it had on him—as an owner and a sponsor—but he couldn’t be sure. “Pammy” always had been the apple of her daddy’s eye, even though she’d been trying to break free of his influence for a long time.
If Chase truly believed his lifestyle was all that wild or was an embarrassment to Pamela, he might make a few changes. At least, he liked to think that he would. The two of them weren’t exactly friends, but they didn’t hold any animosity toward each other anymore.
In fact, last June she’d married a man whose family had a truckload of money and ran in the same circles as the Bardens. From what Chase had heard, she was happy now.
“I don’t want to see Pammy or her in-laws embarrassed by anything you might do,” her father added.
Now was probably a good time to mention the Haines family and his contribution, but instead, he kept that information close to the vest. Gerald seemed to think he had Chase all figured out, but he didn’t.
No one did, and Chase liked it that way.
“I’ll keep your words in mind,” he told the man.
“You do that, son, because I’m as serious as a heart attack.”
“I know you are. And so am I. You can say anything you want to me when we’re in private, but I don’t want an audience next time.”
“All right. Fair enough.” Gerald folded his arms over an ample belly. “You might consider settling down with one woman, though. That would certainly help.”
“When I find the right woman, maybe I will.” Chase nodded toward the doorway. “Now, if you don’t mind, I need to head back to Houston.”
As Gerald started to get to his feet, Chase stopped him. “Don’t bother. I’ll let myself out.”
On his way to the front door, he stopped at a table near the entry, where a silver-framed picture of Pamela sat. He picked it up, taking time to reflect on the woman he’d once loved.
Chase had been twenty when he met Pamela at Texas A&M, and she’d been nineteen. Things had burned hot and bright at the start, and after a whirlwind courtship, they’d gotten married while still college students.
They’d spent a weekend-long honeymoon in Vail, then moved into a small apartment off campus, where they’d tried to balance the demands of school and a relationship. But it hadn’t been easy, and about six months later, things had started going south.
They’d had some good times, some nice memories. But whatever affection and attraction they’d once shared hadn’t been enough. The marriage hadn’t been strong enough to weather life’s storms—particularly all the time Chase spent away from home.
He’d told himself that he was committed to racing and the circuit, to the fame and glamour, but in truth, being a part of the stock car world had kept him too busy to face the truth: he didn’t wholeheartedly love Pamela enough and had never felt completely accepted by the Barden family.
It had chapped his hide to learn that some people thought he’d only married Pamela for her money and her father’s sponsorship. Anyone who truly knew Chase would tell you that he was no one’s man but his own.
He’d chalked up the murmurs as being from jealous competitors who hadn’t liked losing.
The truth was, Chase and Pamela had shared something special for a while, although it seemed to fizzle out nearly as quickly as it had heated up.
As time wore on, she found a man who was not only her social equal, but who had been ready to fully invest himself in a relationship.
Still, Chase had to admit that some people might find it unusual that Gerald had continued to sponsor his ex-son-in-law after the divorce. But Gerald was an avid racing fan and liked riding on Chase’s coattails.
So life was good—or so Chase was prepared to argue.
But if he were being completely honest, he had to admit that true happiness had always eluded him—from the time he was a kid until now.
Maybe that’s why he’d been going out so much at night and living life in the fast lane. Being home alone had never held much appeal.
Gerald seemed to think a steady relationship would provide Chase with better press. And maybe it would—for a while.
Chase knew quite a few groupies who would be thrilled to go out with him, but choosing just any woman wasn’t going to work. He needed to find someone he wouldn’t mind being officially paired with. Someone who would not only provide his sponsors peace of mind, but who would lend him a rock-solid sense of respectability.
As Pamela had done.
But that wouldn’t work for very long. Chase might be able to play around and pretend that his life was exactly as he’d planned it, that he was happy being footloose and fancy-free. But he couldn’t fake a romance, especially when he’d have to either get a woman to play along or lead her on unknowingly.
And Chase couldn’t do that.
Besides, his marriage to Pamela had ended in disappointment. How could another relationship with someone like her fare any better?
Maybe he wasn’t cut out to be solid and respectable. Maybe he wasn’t meant to settle down.
He thought about his old man, who’d given up the rodeo to support his family and had never complained—at least not that Chase was aware of. But the two of them were cut from different bolts of cloth.
A man like his father would have found a way to make his marriage to Pamela work. And he wouldn’t have kowtowed to anyone, not even Gerald Barden—which led him back full circle.
The only woman who’d made Chase seem to be the least bit solid and family-oriented had been Pamela. And women like her were few and far between.
He replaced her picture frame on the polished oak credenza, then left the house. But on the way back to Houston, it wasn’t Pamela’s face he envisioned.
It was Molly’s.
With Rusty curled up next to her, Molly sat on her sofa with a cup of herbal tea and read the newspaper, which she hadn’t had a chance to look at earlier this morning. Instead, she’d cleaned the house and done the laundry. She’d also picked up groceries for
the week.
Now, as the sun dropped low in the western sky, she turned to page B-1 again and looked at the black-and-white photo of the Haines family.
The wire services had finally gotten wind of Chase’s accident and his hospital stay, as well as his generosity to Diana and the kids. The human-interest story had become big news within a week of his discharge.
So much for Chase wanting to keep his identity quiet.
Apparently, two gentlemen from the Lone Oak trailer park had learned what he’d done and had passed the word. Before long, the whole story was out, and the media had jumped on it.
According to this newspaper article, Chase had also extended an invitation to Diana and her kids to come to Houston for a preseason race.
Molly couldn’t shake an indescribable ache whenever she thought about him, whenever she spotted his picture in the paper or heard his name on the news. He’d checked out of the hospital more than a week ago, and she still struggled with an unwelcome and lingering attraction to her patient, a man she should be glad that she’d steered clear of because of his wild and reckless lifestyle.
Of course, he hadn’t seemed wild and reckless when she’d known him. And taking the single mother and her children under his wing was heartwarming. It also mocked the notion that he might have a selfish streak or an oversize ego.
She’d also read an article about his ex-wife this afternoon, but that was in the social section, which Molly usually didn’t pay much attention to. Still, the name Pamela Barden-Jones had jumped out at her, and she couldn’t help her interest in the charity auction Pamela had organized, a successful event that benefited an orphanage in Mexico.
Maybe philanthropy and generosity had been something both Pamela and Chase had in common when they’d been married.
The doorbell sounded, drawing her from her reading and her thoughts. She glanced at the clock on the cable television box, noting that it was well after five.
She padded to the door, wondering who could be stopping by. She spotted Chase on the front stoop, holding a bouquet of long-stemmed red roses and wearing a pair of black slacks, a soft blue button-down shirt and a dazzling smile.
Her heart flip-flopped, and her pulse skipped a beat. She wished she’d known he was coming, that she’d dressed with his visit in mind. She’d showered after cleaning the house, but she wasn’t wearing anything out of the ordinary, just a pair of worn jeans and a pink cotton blouse.
“I brought these to thank you.” He flashed her a crooked grin that only looked vaguely familiar, since the pink scar across his brow was the only sign of the facial injuries he’d suffered in the accident.
“You don’t need to thank me. I was just doing my job.” She held the doorknob with one hand and raked the other through the strands of her hair she hadn’t taken time to style.
“But I wanted to get them for you. To thank you for letting me use your address and for shopping for me.” He nodded at the door she was practically hiding behind. “Are you going to invite me in?”
Her mind, which had grown fuzzy and numb with the surprise of seeing him again, suddenly cleared, and she stepped aside. “I’m sorry. Yes, please come in.”
He scanned the interior of her home, and she wondered how it measured up. The house was cozy, as far as she was concerned, and perfect for her and Rusty. But she supposed it might seem small and plain to a famous guy who was probably used to so much more.
“Nice place,” he said.
She wanted to believe him, but found herself skeptical. With the money he had, he undoubtedly had a much bigger, much nicer house, but she thanked him just the same.
“Would you like some coffee?” she asked. “Or maybe some iced tea?”
“The tea sounds good. And if you don’t mind, I’ll take these into the kitchen for you so we can get them into some water.”
She wasn’t so sure that she wanted him to follow her through the house, but he seemed determined, and she was still trying to make sense of his visit and to regain control over the unexpected, heart-stirring situation. She felt almost naked without her scrubs and a hospital setting. Her job had become so much a part of who she was, and entertaining in her home was unusual.
Once in the doorway, she flipped on the light switch, then took the flowers from him. “Why don’t you have a seat while I put these in water.”
As he headed toward the nearest chair, she pulled out a vase from the cupboard under the sink and filled it with water. After clipping the end of each stem, she arranged the roses and carried them back to the table.
The vivid red flowers provided a shot of color to the small, functional kitchen, and so did the handsome man who was waiting for his tea.
“You look good,” she said. Realizing that he might be reading something into her words, something she didn’t want to reveal, she added, “I mean you look healed and back to normal.”
“My knee is still a bit sore, but it’s much better. I’m not favoring it too much anymore.”
“Good.” She pulled a glass from the cupboard, added ice cubes from the freezer, then poured the tea from the glass jar that sat on the counter where she’d left it earlier.
“Sugar?” she asked.
“Just a little bit.”
She fixed herself a glass, as well, then joined him at the table.
He took a sip of the tea, and she watched the muscles in his throat work as he swallowed. She found him even more intriguing than before, more attractive. And she wasn’t quite sure what to make of it all.
“I’d like to take you to dinner tonight,” he said. “There’s a place in Houston that’s one of my favorites.”
No way did she want to make a two-hour drive, then have to return late at night. The roads were long and winding in places, and the chance of an accident or a breakdown increased after dark.
Yet she was drawn to Chase, and the thought of having dinner with him was far more appealing than it should be.
“We don’t need to drive all the way to Houston,” she said. “There’s a nice little Italian restaurant just down the road a bit.”
“All right, that sounds good to me. Do we need reservations?”
“Maybe. Unless we go early.”
“I’m up for anything.”
Anything? It seemed like such an open suggestion that her mind shot off in a zillion different directions, each one leading back to her house, to her bed.
And much to her chagrin, the thought of a romantic sleepover was far more appealing than it should be, probably because she’d gone without sex for so long.
Oh, for Pete’s sake. It was just a simple dinner date.
Or was it? a small, inner voice asked. The roses suggested otherwise.
And so did a raging pulse on her part.
“I’ll have to change clothes,” she said.
“Go ahead. I’ll just sit here and talk to your friend.”
“My friend?”
He nodded low in the open doorway, where the orange tabby sat, checking out the only guest she’d invited in the house in months.
“His name is Rusty,” she said. “He’s a little slow warming up to people.”
“I’ve got plenty of time,” Chase said.
Meaning what?
Oh, for goodness’ sake. She shouldn’t be reading anything into his words.
“I’ll just be a few minutes,” she said, before heading to her bedroom.
Once inside, she opened her closet and started the tedious chore of deciding what to wear.
Maybe she should have suggested the pizza place on the corner instead of the much fancier Cara Mia’s. It would have made choosing a proper outfit so much easier.
Or would she still be stressing about what clothes to wear?
“Darn it,” she muttered.
She hadn’t had a date in well over a year, and for some crazy reason, she felt like Cinderella getting ready for the ball.
So where was a good fairy godmother when you needed one?
Chapter Six
Cara Mia’s was a fairly new restaurant with great food, an extensive wine list and Old World charm. It was also a short walk from Molly’s house.
As she and Chase cut across the alley on their way to the mall, where the restaurant was tucked between the movie theater and a bookstore, the soles of their shoes—his boots and her black high heels—crunched on the graveled dirt.
“I’ve never walked to dinner before,” he said, chuckling.
“When you live as close as I do to shops and stores, it’s silly to jump into a car and drive.” Of course, little did he know that she’d chosen the house in which she lived for that very reason.
Their arms brushed several times on the way to the restaurant, and Molly felt the strongest compulsion to slip her hand in his. But while she’d always been determined to exercise as much control over her life as possible, she’d never been quite that bold.
Yet tonight was different, and her senses were reeling. She blamed it on the man sauntering next to her, on the woodsy scent of his aftershave, on his fame and the fact that any woman would be happy sharing an evening with him. So she reeled in her wild thoughts and managed to slow her rapid pulse rate.
This wasn’t a date, and she’d better keep that in mind.
Within ten minutes of leaving her house, they reached the small, classy eatery that provided both patio and indoor dining.
“Do you mind if we eat outside?” he asked.
“No, that’s fine.” She didn’t have a preference, although, as she scanned the dark-wood interior, the tables with candles flickering, the small bud vases with fresh flowers, she realized Cara Mia’s was a lot more romantic than she’d remembered.
Or was that due to the man she was with?
She stole a look at Chase, saw his handsome profile, and her heartbeat kicked up a notch all over again.
The hostess, a young woman in her twenties, greeted them at the entrance, then escorted them to a linen-draped table on the patio that had been placed next to an outdoor heater and a pot of pink bougainvillea.
