The Second Chance

by Catherine Mann

  Which made it all the more ironic she was getting flack over hanging out with Aiden. She felt his eyes on hers.

  He grinned at her wryly.

  She struggled to keep from blushing as she grinned back. He jerked his head toward the door. Could he really be asking her to leave with him?

  Her heart leaped into her throat. She nodded quickly. He held up a finger, indicating she should wait. Aiden pushed back his chair, placed his dishes in the sink, and made a beeline for the mudroom.

  Conversation at the table stopped and Alayna’s breath hitched in her throat. Her stepfather scraped his chair back, standing and following his son.

  Disappointment stung. It shouldn’t be this tough getting time alone together, given they lived in the same house. Frustrated, she pulled her linen napkin from her lap and tossed it beside her bowl to leave.

  Jeannie rested a hand on her wrist. “Hold on a minute. Let’s talk.”

  Something in her mother’s voice set off alarms. She eyed her mom warily. “About what?”

  “You and Aiden.”

  Her stomach knotted. “There’s no me and Aiden.” She felt compelled to ask, though, “But what if there were? How’s that any different from Glenna and Broderick?”

  Her mother rubbed between Alayna’s shoulder blades. “No need to get defensive. I simply want to make sure no one’s heart gets hurt...and that no one ends up with a pregnancy before they’re ready.”

  “Mom,” she growled, shooting to her feet. “I get that you have to go all adult on me, but I’m nineteen. Trust me.”

  Heat rushed to her face. She wasn’t used to speaking out this way and it made her uncomfortable. Not enough to take back the words.

  In fact, as she raced back to her room, she was more determined than ever to find a chance to meet with Aiden. Alone.

  * * *

  Walking away from Shana the day before had been tough, but Chuck knew waiting for the right moment to make his move was crucial. He didn’t want her to run. The stakes were too high.

  He wasn’t going to risk her walking out of his life.

  For a second time.

  Although the waiting was damn near killing him. Would tonight—their fourth anniversary—be that perfect moment?

  He hoped so.

  He had spent the day working on plans while she stayed at the computer, pensive. He’d given her space, easy enough since he’d had his hands full pulling off the perfect evening to go with the gift he’d bought for the occasion. She’d seemed pleased with the diamond heart bracelet he’d given her, so he’d decided to contact one of his mother’s favorite jewelry designers, a Texas-based company called Diamonds in the Rough. They specialized in rustic, eclectic pieces. He was also having a special piece designed just for her for the gala celebrating the completion of the merger forming Alaska Oil Barons, Inc. She’d been a fan of their jewelry before the accident so he felt confident in his choice to shower her with pieces now.

  After jogging down the stairs, he made his way to their home office, taking a beat outside the door to pat his suit jacket over where he’d tucked the gift. Shana sat at the desk, typing away on the keyboard while classical guitar music played softly through the sound system. She’d crossed her legs on the chair, a nearly empty glass of milk on the table reminding him of the child she carried. Their child.

  Her fuzzy, soft sweater hugged the curves of her breasts, making his hands ache to touch her. But he’d told her he would respect her need for space and he would honor that.

  A lot of bad had happened between them over the years, but he was determined to shield her from a repeat of their arguments. He would devote the same drive he had at the office to winning his way back into her bed and into her life.

  As if she felt his gaze, she glanced up from the computer. “You look nice. Do you have a business meeting?” She glanced back at the screen. “It’s pretty late, though. A dinner meeting, maybe?”

  “A date, actually, with my wife.”

  “Well, since I’m craving burgers and a milkshake, you’re a bit overdressed.” She laughed, combing her fingers through her loose, honey-blond hair. Her bare ring finger served as a reminder she still hadn’t totally embraced their marriage. “What’s the special occasion?”

  He strode into the room, his cowboy boots thudding softly on the brick floor. “It’s our anniversary.”

  She straightened behind the desk, blinking fast. “Wedding anniversary?”

  “Our fourth.” He sat on the edge of the desk, his leg brushing her knee.

  “Fourth,” she said in a shaky voice. “Isn’t it the husband who’s supposed to forget?”

  He knew her well enough to recognize she was attempting a joke to cover nerves. He wanted—needed—for her to be at ease, so he chuckled and teased her back. “You’re off the hook for a gift, though.”

  He withdrew the present from inside his jacket, a flat box with a blue ribbon sporting sparkly horseshoes and the logo for the maker—Diamonds in the Rough.

  She took the present tentatively, resting it on the desk in front of her. “You’re so generous.”

  “I want you to be happy.”

  She tugged the bow carefully, slow in opening the gift as she always was on holidays. She lifted the lid to reveal a pounded pewter necklace with diamonds and a large teardrop Peruvian opal. Shana traced the details reverently. “This is lovely.”

  “It’s a jeweler my mother and sisters use. Diamonds in the Rough is based out of Texas. They make unusual pieces.”

  “Thank you. This is really thoughtful. Again.” Standing, she rested a hand over his and pressed her lips to his.

  Her mouth was soft and familiar. The light touch of her tongue to his sent a bolt of desire spearing through him. The kiss wasn’t over the top. Their bodies weren’t even touching except for their mouths. But this woman had always turned him inside out in a way no other ever had. She held the kiss for another moment before easing back, her eyes blue flames.

  He didn’t push her for more. They had the whole night ahead of them. “I have a date planned to go with the necklace.”

  “A date, tonight?”

  “Yes, an anniversary celebration. A first for you, and hopefully one worth remembering. Is there a problem?”

  Her smile faded. “I have other plans, actually.” She tapped the computer. “My work today paid off. A lead came through about the case.”

  “A lead?” He’d all but forgotten he’d asked her to do this. He certainly hadn’t expected results so soon.

  “Cross-referencing Milla Jones’s emails and bank statements, there’s a name that came up frequently, strangely so, given she hadn’t lived here long.”

  “Interesting. Bank records?” He worked to keep his focus on her words, tough to do with the distracting scent of her teasing his every breath.

  “Bank card transactions from him to her, shuffling money around. That can be iffy, of course, since shell corporations can make it too easy to hide who’s really behind the money.” She picked up a printout. “Anyway, I’ve got a lead that the guy’s living at a local motel. If I can confirm that, I’ll be able to trace more of his movements.”

  “Confirm it how?” Suddenly this job was starting to sound more complicated than he’d expected. He didn’t want her digging into the backgrounds of people who might hold a grudge later.

  “I’m going on a stakeout.”

  Alone? Like hell.

  He shrugged out of his suit coat, more determined than ever to spend the evening with her. “Then I guess our anniversary plans have changed, because I’m going with you.”

  * * *

  The decadence of this home—her home?—still caught Shana off guard sometimes. Even this closet was larger than her old apartment bedroom.

  She stood in the threshold, gripping the door frame, her mind wandering back to her ol
d cramped studio—the last place she actually remembered living. So different, with its exposed brick and water heater haphazardly placed next to the stove in her kitchen. A cheap countertop and a room with nonexistent closet space. She’d stuffed organized boxes under the bed for extra storage.

  Now, before her, she took in a whole wall of shelves for shoes and sweaters, two walls with rows of clothes on hangers. And in the middle, a built-in island with drawers of jewelry and other accessories.

  Her studio had been small, sure. But she knew its idiosyncrasies, knew everything in that tiny space followed rules of order because she had complete autonomy and authority. And yet, somewhere in the past five years, she’d learned to trust, to rely on another person. A man.

  How had that transpired? Stress broiled in her stomach as she grasped for the truth. So she did what she’d often done as a young girl. She dialed her mom.

  Shana clicked the phone onto Speaker as she stripped out of her oversize T-shirt and fluffy pajama pants. The cold air made her hair stand on end as she fidgeted with her plain white bra.

  Opening the drawer of bras, she opted for a lacier number. Delicate and coy. Not that she planned on anything happening during a stakeout. But just for confidence’s sake.

  “Hey, Mom.” Shana hooked the bra clasp, fingers moving for the Diamonds in the Rough necklace. The handcrafted piece laid flush against her breastbone, the cool metal somehow relaxing her.

  “Hello, sweetheart. How are you feeling?”

  Shana had told her mother about the pregnancy right after the last doctor checkup. She just hadn’t been able to keep the news to herself any longer.

  “I feel great. Not at all nauseous. Appetite is well and I’m full of energy.” In the center of the walk-in closet, a fat, off-white ottoman flanked a mirror. She sat, shoving her legs into dark-wash denim leggings.

  “And your memory?” her mother asked with subdued but persistent urgency.

  Shana buttoned her jeans, a long sigh heavy on her exhale. “Still nothing.”

  “I wish I could be there with you.”

  “I understand. Chuck’s family is spoiling me. Chuck too.” After pulling an oversize white sweater over her body, she moved to the mirror, adjusting the way it fell, fluffing her hair.

  “I’m glad to hear you two are getting along.”

  The comment caught Shana off guard. She should have known better than to get too complacent.

  She was almost scared to ask—and come to think of it, why hadn’t she quizzed her mother more deeply on this? “Did Chuck and I have problems in our marriage?”

  “You had arguments like any couple. He rushed through the romance so fast at first, I wasn’t sure if I liked him. But with time, I could see he’s a good man, and you two were very much in love.”

  Shana wanted to believe her mom, but would she have confided in her mother about marital problems? Maybe, but most likely not.

  “Oh,” her mother said, “happy anniversary.”

  And there was the answer to her question. It really was her anniversary. How paranoid to have thought he would make up something so easy to prove either way.

  She really was overthinking things. She should just go on the stakeout with him and lose herself in the magnetism of her sexy husband.

  * * *

  When he’d made his anniversary plans, Chuck hadn’t expected to end up going parking with his wife outside a seedy motel.

  His five-star plans for the evening had been foiled by Shana’s stakeout. No way in hell was he letting her do this alone.

  Years in the boardroom had taught him how to improvise on the fly. He’d brought some of the luxury to her in his black SUV. Flipping on the seat heaters, he’d made the interior of the car as comfortable as possible while they did surveillance on the Snowdrop Inn—an old-school cheap motel with peeling paint and a weak light outside. Snow filtered down from the sky in a dusting on top of the snowplowed piles. A moose ambled slowly through the parking lot.

  Even without the flash of luxurious romance, the interior of his SUV seemed to have an ambience all its own tonight, jazz tunes playing softly from the radio. The casual dinner of burgers, fries and milkshakes had a first-date quality, a feeling he wanted to capitalize on even after they’d already finished their burgers. Chuck knew he had to win over his wife if he was going to get her back to his bed.

  Despite the cold weather outside, the SUV hummed with promise. He’d provided the exact meal she craved, determined to pull out all the unconventional romance stops to make this work. And he couldn’t deny that Shana was relaxed, happy, in her element.

  God, she was mesmerizing in jeans, the new necklace he’d given her glittering against the simple white sweater. A camera rested in her lap, along with a small tablet. While this wasn’t the evening he’d planned, he had high hopes it could still culminate in a satisfying end.

  He draped his arm over the back of her seat, heat blasting through the vents. “How’s the shake?”

  “Amazing,” she said blissfully, placing the cup back in the holder. “Funny how I never liked strawberry milkshakes or ice cream in the past and now I can’t get enough.”

  He thought of prior pregnancies and how she’d craved berries then, too. But she wouldn’t remember that, and he didn’t see the need to bring up the heartbreak of those days.

  “Glad you’re enjoying it.” He toyed with a strand of blond hair that had eased loose from her messy topknot. “I still want us to have a real anniversary celebration, though.”

  She angled her head to the side, smiling pensively. “Where did we go for our honeymoon?”

  “We flew to Paris. We went to the Eiffel Tower and the Louvre.” They’d been in love—or thought they were. Full of dreams for the future, no notion of how it could all implode under the stress of everyday life.

  “Paris sounds romantic.” She leaned her head back into his touch.

  On purpose or by instinct? Either way, he was glad for the opportunity to be closer to her. He cupped her shoulder.

  “We were there for two weeks. We only left our room twice to sightsee.”

  “Oh.” Her eyes went wide, and her tongue touched her top lip, making him ache to kiss her.

  Clearing his dry throat, he said, “We decided to come back another time for more sightseeing.”

  “Did we?” she asked, her voice breathy. “Go back, I mean.”

  “Yes, six months later.” They’d had so much hope for the future then before real life hadn’t turned out as blissfully as they’d expected. They’d had nowhere near the perfect marriage, nothing like his parents’ union. “We planned to start trying for a baby soon and wanted to get traveling under our belt.”

  Except somehow most of those trips—other than on their first two anniversaries—were canceled at the last minute because of a crisis at the office, which led to more arguments about his workaholic ways.

  She touched his chest lightly, bringing him back to the present. “Where did we spend our first anniversary?”

  “We went to Australia.”

  “That sounds incredible.”

  “It was.” Sensual memories scrolled through his mind, making him ache from wanting her.

  “Details?” she prodded.

  He shot her a heated look, then said, “We went hiking, took a serious walkabout.”

  “Where are the photos? I would love to see them.” She stirred the straw through the cup. “In fact, I can’t believe I haven’t asked to see more albums before now.”

  “Everything is on discs. I’ll find them for you.” Later. Delving too deeply into the past was dangerous territory.

  “Thanks.” Drinking her milkshake, she looked at him through her lashes. “I appreciate how open you are about discussing all of this, but I think it would be helpful to review parts of this on my own. Videos would be incredible.”

&
nbsp; “Duly noted,” he said simply.

  She set aside her shake and picked up her camera, snapping a photo of him. “So we never went to a cheap motel.”

  “This is a first. Should we check in?” he teased, half hoping she would say yes.

  “I’m on the clock.” She clicked more photos of him. “What about our second anniversary?”

  “We went to a cabin and unplugged from the digital world.” He tapped her arm to stop the photo session so he could see her eyes again.

  “And our third?”

  “For number three, we planned to go to Colorado, skiing.”

  “I know how to ski?” She laughed, smiling. “It sounds incredible. I wish I could remember.”

  The levity evaporated with the memory he wished he could forget. “We canceled our plans.”

  “Because?”

  For once, his workaholic drive hadn’t been the cause. “You had an early miscarriage. Neither of us felt much like partying.” He scratched his chest over the tightness that never went away when he discussed that time, when it had really dawned on them that having a baby together might not happen for them.

  Shana’s hand slid over her stomach protectively. “Glenna said we discussed adoption.”

  “We did.”

  “Why didn’t we follow through on that?”

  He hesitated a beat too long, thinking about their rocky marriage over the past months. Would she notice his hesitation?

  “Family issues with Mom’s engagement put things on hold, then Jack was in a riding accident, then their wedding. There just wasn’t a right time before you had the aneurysm.”

  “I hear your words—” she chewed her bottom lip “—but I also heard your silence.”

  “Nothing is ever clear-cut.” Certainly not when it came to their relationship.

  She tipped her head to the side, studying him through narrowed eyes. “Were we having marital troubles?”

  That question posed a serious risk. He needed to be honest with her, but selectively so. If she found out they were separating, she could well bolt altogether—an unacceptable outcome.