Falling for Fate (Second Chance Book 2)

by Quinn, Caisey

  She stilled and listened to lyrics about knowing better. She was enraptured by the haunting combination of voices that sounded ethereal to her ears when it changed seamlessly to words about poison and wine.

  Dean chuckled softly beside her, disrupting her trance. “I take it you’re a fan?”

  She nodded. “I’ve never heard anything like it. Do they ever come to New York?”

  Before college, she and her friends used to attend concerts all the time. There was something about seeing music live. It seemed closer to her soul that way.

  Dean cleared his throat. “They broke up. They don’t perform together anymore.”

  Her skin tingled in a way that didn’t make sense. Her body was reacting as if she’d just learned that a dear friend had died. She didn’t know these people, but somehow, knowing they would no longer make this music together was painful—hollowing.

  “They sound so perfect for each other. Why’d they break up?”

  Dean shrugged. “Why does anyone?”

  Because people lie and cheat. They betray, and they let you down. Because, sometimes, it’s easier to let go…

  The memory of Trevor and Melissa’s indiscretion was closer to the surface than she’d realized. The melody escaping the speakers had peeled back a layer of her defense and left her exposed.

  “Were they married?”

  Dean nodded. “Yeah—to other people, I think.”

  It was then that she heard it. What made the music so beautiful and unique. The love and the longing. The ebb and flow of two people resisting and giving in to the pull of temptation. There was passion there—Fate could feel it as if they were in the car with them. She’d never felt music quite that deeply before—not even when hearing it live. It had always been surface level.

  The song changed again while she was contemplating this. A remake of No Ordinary Love swirled tendrils of emotion through her, and suddenly, Dean couldn’t drive fast enough.

  His watch gleamed out from under the cobalt-blue button-down dress shirt he was wearing. She examined his strong hands wrapped firmly around the steering wheel. She wanted his hands everywhere, his skin on hers, his mouth claiming her. When the steady internal throbbing began, she wanted to tell him to pull over and make her forget the pain and replace it with unadulterated pleasure just as he’d done when he’d been a stranger on the beach.

  “You okay?”

  She pulled herself from the fever dream the music had pulled her into. “Yeah,” she breathed. “But, um, you could drive a little faster.”

  The beach house wasn’t at all what Fate had pictured. The few she’d seen on her impromptu jog a few months ago were cottage-style, whitewashed, clapboard two-stories. As they pulled into the driveway of something much more modern and made of entirely more glass than she’d expected, Fate noticed a sleek, silver convertible already parked next to the house.

  “You already have company?”

  It occurred to her that, despite their one night and the debauchery that had taken place in the city, Fate knew very little about Dean’s preferences. Maybe one woman wasn’t enough to satisfy him and he was planning a group event.

  Dean’s gaze flickered briefly to the sporty car before landing on her. “No. That belongs to our neighbor. My dad lets her park there because she doesn’t have much of a driveway and her garage is full.”

  Her. She opened her mouth to inquire further, but his tone had made it clear that this wasn’t something he wanted to discuss. Dean was out of the car and opening her door before any more was said about the mysterious neighbor with the pretty car and full garage.

  “Thanks,” Fate whispered, suddenly feeling shy as she passed by him.

  The house loomed intimidatingly over them—holding the promise of something life changing.

  He nodded and retrieved her bag from the back seat. Walking together to the house, they paused only long enough for him to punch in a code and open the door.

  “Dean?”

  The voice was warm and seductively feminine.

  Fate had just stepped into a dark, slate-tiled foyer when Dean turned to see who’d called his name.

  “Brynn?”

  Angling her face around him, Fate saw a woman in a bright-pink Lycra tank and tight, black yoga pants. She might’ve been older than them both, but the outfit, the super-sculpted body, and the blond bob cut made her look pretty youthful.

  “Hey,” the woman said, stepping closer. She’d apparently been about to get into her car. “I thought that was you. Your dad was just here last weekend.”

  Fate waited to see if he’d introduce her to the woman walking toward them, but he did the absolute last thing she expected.

  “Here. Make yourself comfortable,” he said, setting her bag down. “I’ll be right back.” With that, Dean walked out of the house, letting the door close behind him as he made his way to Brynn.

  This was not how she’d expected this weekend to get started. Once she’d recovered from the shock of being unceremoniously ditched, she set her bag on the kitchen counter and lifted herself onto a barstool.

  Surveying her surroundings—ultramodern décor with stark contrasts of dark and light—Fate wondered briefly if this was where she would’ve ended up had she not taken off running after their encounter on the beach. It was almost amusing, the fact that she’d ended up here anyway. It felt inevitable and also kind of like returning to the scene of the crime. A few miles away sat the resort where she was supposed to have gotten married.

  Life was either a random slew of coincidences or controlled by some unforeseen power that had an exceptionally twisted sense of humor.

  The longer Dean remained outside with his neighbor, the more Fate wondered why he’d brought her here. He wanted them to finish what they’d started. She kind of understood that impulse. But remembering Keaton’s comments and how they’d freaked him out, she wondered if Dean had really thought this through.

  Driving to his beach house for the weekend didn’t feel like a way to finish anything… In fact, it felt a whole lot like the beginning of something rather than the end.

  Which begged the question, why had she agreed to come?

  If Gwen’s theory was correct, they really could just use this weekend to get each other out of their systems. That was the option that would wrap everything up the neatest way possible.

  Yet…Fate had felt the twinge of something other than physical attraction on the way to the Hamptons. She didn’t have a name for it, but the ease and comfort she’d felt while riding with him away from the hectic city toward the beach combined with how much she’d enjoyed the music and the conversation—it was dangerous. It was too familiar, a feeling that would be too easy to crave. She wouldn’t be that woman again, wouldn’t be like her mother and go from letting one man call the shots to another. Dean could have her body this weekend, but there was no way in hell she was handing over her heart.

  So when he walked inside and gave her a tentative grin, Fate shoved any feelings of jealousy she was harboring toward his neighbor into a tiny ball in the pit of her stomach. This weekend wasn’t about that, about feelings or starting a relationship. Dean had made that clear and she’d agreed.

  “Sorry. She was—”

  She waved her hand and tossed him an easy grin. “No need to explain, Dean. I’m not your girlfriend.”

  He appeared temporarily unprepared for her reaction but regained his previous demeanor quickly. “Okay then. In that case, let me give you a tour.”

  Dean took his time showing her the lavish living room, where pretty much everything from the fireplace to the television to the surround sound system was handled by a remote control. She’d already seen the kitchen with its professional, chef-quality, stainless steel appliances and sleek, marble countertops, but Dean paused by the bar to inform her that either they could order in all weekend or make a quick grocery store run. Fate skimmed her hand along the countertop and considered this. A trip to the grocery store would probably be a very coup
le-ish thing to do.

  “I’m a fan of ordering in myself. And if we get cabin fever, we could always eat out.”

  Dean smirked, briefly reminding Fate of a teenage boy who’d scored the winning touchdown. “Sounds good. I like to eat out from time to time myself.”

  There was a dark promise lacing his words and Fate was pretty sure he wasn’t referring to food anymore.

  “Behave yourself, Mr. Maxwell,” she warned.

  Dean’s eyes met hers, the dark promise from before turning into a guarantee. “Not this weekend, Ms. Buchanan. This weekend, I can assure you I will be doing the opposite of behaving myself.”

  Tingles of anticipation ran a circuit beneath her skin. “I see. So we’re just going to go for it then? No cost-benefit analysis needed?”

  He’d been about to show her the master bedroom down the hall, but he changed paths and whirled around, backing her against the wall. “How about, instead of our usual measures of efficiency, I just base my behavior on how loud I can make you moan my name? That work for you?”

  Fate swallowed and nodded. Clearly, he’d dropped the professional, polite façade they had to maintain at the office. This weekend was theirs to do with as they pleased.

  “Any chance you brought that red tie?”

  Dean’s hooded gaze widened. “Why, Ms. Buchanan, I had no idea you were so adventurous. I’ll make myself a note to pack it next time.”

  Smiling up at him, Fate breathed him in. Would there be a next time? She nudged him out of her personal space. “So what’s next on this tour?”

  Dean chuckled low in her ear as he led her to the bedroom. “Patience, pretty lady. We’re almost finished.”

  He’d been speaking lightly, meaning that the tour was almost finished. She knew that. But the truth was that all they really had was tonight and tomorrow. On Sunday, they’d head back to the city and this would be over. They’d barely begun, yet he was right—they were almost finished. Fate swallowed the tinge of regret this knowledge caused and added it to the ball of jealousy she’d buried a few minutes ago.

  “So this is the bedroom. There’s another one upstairs, but I leave that part of the house to guests and my father.”

  There was an edge to the way he said ‘father,’ but Fate didn’t press. She just eyed the enormous bed with midnight blue, satin sheets and a folded, white down comforter. More light and dark contrasts like the rest of the house. It was sexy and inviting. The images of what she hoped would happen in that bed distracted her from whatever Dean was saying about spa jets in the en suite bathroom tub.

  “Last thing,” Dean said, moving toward balcony doors. “Then we can grab some dinner…or whatever you feel like doing.”

  After opening the French balcony doors, Dean stepped outside onto the deck that overlooked an infinity pool and the shoreline.

  “How very…quaint,” Fate said not bothering to hide her sarcasm. Pretentious yet gorgeous was how she really viewed the house. Other than the bedroom, it didn’t really feel like Dean. Someone else had obviously decorated.

  “Yes, I’m aware.” Dean placed both hands on her shoulders and moved her several steps to the left.

  “What are you doing?” She shuffled along until she was closer to the doors that led back inside to the living room.

  “Here.” Dean stood behind her, turning her body until she was facing the ocean. The sun had sunk onto the horizon and the sky was growing darker by the second.

  “Here what?” She angled her neck so she could look over her shoulder at her.

  “I was standing in this exact spot when I saw a beautiful woman running down the beach.”

  The air left her lungs. She felt as if the only things holding her upright were Dean’s hands on her shoulders. She could still remember that woman—the one she’d been when she’d taken off running down the beach believing her life was over.

  “Any chance you’re going to tell me what you were running from?”

  She didn’t answer, just shook her head no and stared at the shoreline. She could almost see the ghost of that woman herself. That woman was gone and Fate had no desire to bring her back to life. That woman was weak and easily wounded.

  Before Dean could attempt to ask for further details, a musical chime sounded, reverberating through the inside of the house and making its way to them on the deck.

  Fate pulled her gaze from the ocean and raised an eyebrow.

  “Doorbell,” he said, answering the unasked question with a sigh.

  She followed him to the living room and back toward the foyer. The attractive blonde from earlier stood on the other side of the door once he’d opened it.

  Fate’s tiny ball of jealously grew from a tennis ball to softball-size. If the woman was going to keep coming back, Fate worried she’d soon have a bowling ball to contend with.

  Dean frowned at Brynn. Why she was back at his door after he’d plainly told her that he had company was beyond him. They’d hooked up a few times, but there’d never been any discussion or more than a convenient orgasm here and there.

  “What can I do for you, Brynn?”

  He kept his hand on the door to let her know that she wouldn’t be invited in. He didn’t want to be a dick, but for the love of God, why couldn’t the world just go away and let him have a fucking weekend already?

  “I know you have company. I’m sorry to bother you, but I was worried that I’d upset you earlier.”

  “No need to worry about me. I’m fine. Thank you.” Or I will be when you go the hell away.

  Brynn’s light-blue eyes clouded over. “Well, I’m not. I wanted to clarify so that I didn’t have to stress out all weekend about a misunderstanding.”

  Dean inhaled until his chest expanded. “Whatever it is, it can wait. Don’t stress out. I don’t care if you—”

  “I didn’t sleep with your father, Dean. That’s all I wanted to say. He was here alone and we had dinner with a lovely wine and some conversation. There. I just wanted you to know.”

  He shouldn’t have cared, but there was a definite reduction of pressure in his chest. It wasn’t that he felt possessive of Brynn. Not even a little. But the idea of having had sex with someone who his dad had slept with was slightly vomit inducing. He didn’t want to be his father and he sure as hell didn’t want to share women with him.

  “Good to know. Thank you—for telling me, I mean. Not for not…you know. You’re free to do whatever you like. With whomever you choose, of course.”

  Brynn smiled at his lack of ease in articulation. “Uh huh. Thank you for the permission. And for the record, I think of myself as pretty sexually open, but the father-son thing is not on my bucket list.”

  Dean briefly closed his eyes. Fate was close enough to have heard that. So now she knew that Brynn was a former lover whether he’d planned to tell her or not.

  “Threesomes, however, are definitely on the list.”

  Dean opened his eyes in time to see Brynn shoot Fate a wink over his shoulder. Dear Jesus.

  To his surprise, Fate grinned. And she looked…intrigued. Well, that had been unexpected.

  The possessive monster in him growled. Fate was his. He’d waited this long to have her and no one else was getting so much as a sample until he’d had his fill. He didn’t know when that would be, but the thought of anyone—male or female—touching her or hearing those breathy moans of pleasure he’d dreamt of made his blood pressure rise to a dangerous level.

  “We’ll keep that in mind. Have a good weekend, Brynn.” Without another thought of anyone except the beautiful brunette behind him, Dean let the door close.

  “Not a fan of threesomes?” Fate asked with what he thought was feigned nonchalance.

  “They’re all right. You a fan?”

  Fate shrugged, still maintaining her air of calm despite the noticeable blush rising in her cheeks. “I wouldn’t know.”

  “Well, if you decide you’d like to find out, I hope you’ll come to me first.”

  The blush fade
d and the heat rose to her eyes. “That seems to be how I operate.”

  Thank fuck. He didn’t say it out loud, but he was glad for it.

  “Tell me what you’re thinking about right now.” It wasn’t a request, so he didn’t try to make it seem like one.

  “You,” she admitted softly. “I’m thinking about you.”

  Dean drew in a breath, took two long steps until he reached her, and stopped just within touching distance. “What about me?”

  Fate averted her eyes, but he couldn’t stand not seeing them. Without consciously deciding to, he placed two fingers under her chin until she looked up at him.

  Once he pressed his gaze into hers, her thoughts fell from her lips. “I’m wondering why you want me here when you could have anyone you wanted. Your neighbor is ready and willing, not to mention convenient. Why work so hard to convince me to spend the weekend with you? I mean…” Her eyes darted from his and she licked her lips. “I guess I’m just wondering why me.”

  He considered lying. He even considered changing the subject by stripping her naked and spreading her body out on the breakfast bar.

  This weekend—and this weekend only, he decided— he’d be completely honest with her. About anything and everything that came up in conversation.

  “Because we weren’t done, Fate. You know we weren’t.”

  “Then what were we?”

  Dean let his hands drop to her hips. “Just getting started.”

  His mouth descended onto hers less than a second later. Once her lips were well acquainted with his, he pushed past the threshold and into her mouth. She was the perfect combination of sweet and savory that he’d been craving.

  The gray curve-hugging dress she was wearing was reluctant to be peeled from her body, but he was tenacious. Once the material was over her head and bunched in his hands, he tossed it onto the couch and leaned back to admire Fate’s body. His eyes traveled down past the black, lace bra, the crotchless panties he’d sent her, and down to the fuck-me black stilettos that had taunted him day after day.