Chance of Loving You

by Terri Blackstock

  Julie grabbed a sock off the floor and used it to pat the scratch.

  Blake jerked back. “Julie, I don’t mean to insult you, but I’d rather not have my wounds attended to with a dirty sock.”

  “It isn’t dirty,” she said. “That pile is clean laundry. I haven’t had time to fold it yet. Now give me your hand.” Reluctantly Blake extended it. “So how did you get over my new fence without getting hurt?”

  Blake glanced down at his torn jeans and the scratch on his leg. “I didn’t. Take it from me, that fence is effective.”

  Julie assessed the damage and gave him an exasperated look. “Are you crazy?”

  “Hey, I had a security fence put in today. I thought I had it figured out after I climbed over mine. No one even saw me leave. I walked away and called a cab, and he dropped me off on the street behind here.”

  “Why did you do all that?”

  “Because I wanted to see you.”

  He looked at her through the dim, flickering circle of light cast by the lamp. She felt suddenly self-conscious about her hair inching out of its binding. His voice dropped in pitch. “You said that we’d have to do our hand-holding in secret. If we hadn’t won gazillions together, we’d be on a dinner date with my coffee table money. Right out in the open. You know it’s true.”

  “I don’t know any such thing.”

  “Face it. You’re a snob. If I weren’t a zillionaire, you’d go out with me.”

  “No, never,” she whispered. His lips were much too close, and he smelled of wintergreen.

  He grinned, not believing a word. “Sure?” he asked. “You liked me that first night. I know you did.”

  “I was trying to get a tip.”

  “Yeah, that’s you. Miss Mercenary. But even if you were after a tip, I liked you. I would have had you head over heels for me by now if it weren’t for the money.”

  He was too close, and her heart was pounding too hard. She couldn’t help the grin tugging at her lips. He made her laugh when she didn’t want to. She feared she had already fallen for him.

  “So what do we do now?” she asked.

  He cocked his brows. “I brought food,” he said. “From the looks of your refrigerator the other night, I gathered you don’t have food in the house, and I figured you wouldn’t go out to shop. So I decided to feed you. I brought a picnic.”

  He reached into the pillowcase and pulled out a tablecloth and spread it on the living room floor. She fell to her knees, giggling. “You brought everything?”

  He shrugged. “I would have brought it in something more romantic than a pillowcase, but I didn’t think I could sneak in effectively with a basket.” He reached in and pulled out an elaborate brass candleholder. “Voilà!” He pulled out a candle and set it in the holder. “And now, to set the mood . . .” He reached into his pocket and withdrew a match, then lit the candle. “Ah,” he said when the flame caught and lit her face with a faint golden hue. “I knew you’d be beautiful in candlelight.”

  She swallowed. “Blake . . .”

  He set the candle on the tablecloth and pulled out the food, grinning at the unsettled look on her face. “Peanut butter and jelly,” he said. “It was all I had.”

  “It’s my favorite,” she said, sitting down. She took half a sandwich and bit into it. “Crunchy,” she said with a smile.

  He sat also and regarded her for a moment. “You’re very easy to please,” he said. “You know, my mother said I should snap you up before some fortune hunter does.”

  Her eyes laced with amusement. “Your mother said that? I never thought of you as having a mother.”

  “Did you think I was born in a test tube?”

  “Guess I just never considered it.”

  “Maybe you thought such a manly man didn’t need a mom.”

  “No, everybody needs a mom. I miss mine. She died five years ago.”

  “I’m sorry.” Blake’s eyes took on a sudden grief as if he’d known her mother.

  Julie looked at her bare feet. “No, it’s okay. She was suffering. Cancer. But I have a lot of peace because Mom found Christ just before she died. She was in a Christian hospice, and the sweet woman who ran it won her to Christ, so she had a happy ending. I owe a lot to the Spring Street Hospice Center. I’m looking forward to giving them a fat donation.”

  “Maybe I will too,” he said. Julie watched as he pulled a can of Sprite and two plastic cups out of the pillowcase. He divided the soda into both cups and handed her one. “To our money,” he whispered. “May it bring great happiness.”

  She watched him drink. “How is the money going to bring you happiness?” she asked.

  He ran his finger around the rim of his cup. “It’s going to get my business going, for one thing.”

  Their knees touched as they sat cross-legged, and they leaned toward each other as if some magnetic force drew them together. “How? I thought your business depended on your friend Paul. If his business is floundering, how will your money help?”

  “I’m going to help him,” he said. “I’m going to give him the money he needs to get back on his feet.”

  “Bad idea,” Julie said. “He didn’t manage his own money well. How do you know he can manage yours?”

  “He will,” Blake said.

  “I know you mean well,” she said, “but it might just ruin your friendship. Believe me. I’ve been in business with someone I cared about before.”

  “The designer you mentioned? The one in the gossip columns?”

  “Yeah.”

  Blake reached out and his hand tightened over hers. “What happened?”

  Julie ran the fingers of her free hand through her ponytail. “He got jealous of my designs, fired me and humiliated me, slandered me publicly, then hired a new young designer with less talent. It was a much safer relationship for him.”

  “Oh.” Blake studied her hand with a scowl. “I’m sorry.”

  “It’s okay,” she whispered. She took a deep breath and reached for her sandwich, trying to seem unaffected. “He’s suddenly interested again, now that I have money. Thinks I’m a fool. Anyway, my point is that when it comes to business, you should stay as far away from people you care about as you can. I learned that the hard way.”

  Blake’s face was solemn, and his eyes glistened. “Then you and I won’t do business together. We’ll keep it strictly personal.”

  Once again, she fought the grin on her face. “But we have to think. Why are we attracted to each other? Because of the money? Because we treat each other like human beings when everyone else treats us like we cured cancer?”

  “We liked each other before all that, Julie. God brought us together. Let’s just remember that.” He kissed her hand, making her heart jolt. “But I don’t intend to get to know you by scaling your fence every night. I’ve decided it’s time for me to keep my promise to you.”

  “What promise?”

  “To take you to New York.”

  Julie caught her breath. “No, Blake. That’s a bad idea.”

  “Couldn’t be,” he said, combing his fingers through her hair. “I’m just suggesting we go for the day. Manhattan is a great place to spend time together and find out what we really feel for each other—without the media to draw conclusions for us. I mean, think about it. With all the celebrities and hotshots there, we’re two of the littlest fish in the sea. Nobody will even notice us.”

  “I’m not going to New York with you,” she argued. “I can’t.”

  “Yes, you can.”

  “What will people say?”

  “They’ll say, ‘Where’d they go?’ We’ll leave secretly.”

  She sat paralyzed for a moment, considering it. No phones, no photographers, no interviews. If they could, indeed, get away without anyone knowing, she might have some peace. And some time with Blake.

  “When would we leave?” she asked.

  “In just a few hours—before dawn. If we leave that early, the press won’t see us,” he said, his eyes sparkling
as if she’d already consented.

  “But what about airline tickets?”

  “Leave that to me. You just start digging for your walking shoes, and I’ll line everything up.”

  Julie didn’t move just yet. “If I go, I’d pay my own way. And we have to behave appropriately. I don’t want to give Christ a black eye by making it look like I’m some high-rolling ‘sweepstakes sweetheart’ who’s too intimate too fast with some guy I met in a restaurant just two nights ago.”

  “Too intimate too fast?” he asked, amused. “How do you figure that?”

  “We kissed on page 1, okay?” she reminded him.

  “But I didn’t mean to kiss you on page 1. I thought I was kissing you on page 3.”

  She tried to bite back her laughter and shoved him. “I’m serious!”

  “So am I! I’ll be a perfect gentleman, Julie,” he promised. “I want to honor Christ, too. And I always keep my word.”

  Reluctantly Julie agreed to go.

  It was well after midnight when Blake called Paul and reminded him of every favor he’d ever done for him.

  “I think mine tops all of yours, Adcock,” his friend said in a groggy voice. “I gave you the twenty-million-dollar ticket, remember?”

  “Oh yeah, there’s that,” Blake agreed. “But I need one more little bitty favor, buddy.”

  “What little bitty favor would that be?” Paul asked.

  “I want you to pull some of those strings of yours and hire a luxurious private plane to take Julie and me to New York.”

  “Now? Do you know what time it is?”

  “Yes, but the lady wants to go before dawn. You wouldn’t let a little thing like sleep stand in the way of a favor for a pal, would you?”

  “A private plane,” Paul said with resignation. “And someone to fly it, I presume?”

  “Yeah, that would be nice,” Blake said. “But I want it to be so discreet that even the pilot doesn’t know about it.”

  “The pilot has to know about it,” Paul said. “Unless you intend to fly the plane.”

  “Oh yeah. Well, just tell him to keep quiet. I have a little lady here whose reputation is already in dire straits. We seem to be a volatile combination, at least in the papers, and I don’t want any more explosions.”

  “Got it,” Paul said. “I know just the plane. But it’ll cost you. Think you can come up with the bread?”

  “I think I can manage to find a few extra bills lying around,” Blake said. “How long will it take you?”

  “Two hours,” Paul said. “Meet me at the charter terminal at the airport, and we’ll have you on your way.”

  “We’ll be there,” Blake said.

  “So I finally get to meet her, huh?”

  “Yeah. But don’t get your hopes up. The lady only dates new money these days.”

  “As opposed to borrowed money?” Paul laughed.

  “Hey, I am not giving you a loan,” Blake said. “It’s a gift. As you just pointed out, you gave me the ticket.”

  “I’d rather consider it an investment,” Paul corrected. “One that you won’t regret. And if God had intended for me to keep that ticket, I would have. So pack your bags and meet me in two hours. If I see any reporters lurking around—”

  “Create a diversion,” Blake finished. “Take an employee hostage or something.”

  “You got it, buddy.”

  It didn’t take long for Julie to change into a versatile dress that would work for the nicest of places as well as the most relaxed. When it was time, they called a cab to meet them two blocks away and made their way quietly out her back gate. Julie didn’t remember when she had ever had more fun as they stole through the night to the waiting cab.

  Paul was waiting for them at the express gate at the small private airport. Julie observed the blond hunk whose disability was only apparent by the wheelchair in which he sat. The man reached for Julie’s hand when Blake introduced them and pressed a kiss on it that told her his charm more than compensated for his problems. “You look even lovelier in person than you do on television,” he said.

  She gave him a skeptical grin. At this late hour, she knew she probably had dark circles under her eyes. She turned to Blake. “Your friend just lost all his credibility. I’ll never believe another word he says.”

  “I’m wounded,” Paul said, a hand over his heart. “She doesn’t believe me.”

  “Take it from me,” Blake said, “her verbal wounds are much better than the ones she inflicts with her seam ripper and the heels of her shoes. So where’s the plane?”

  “Over there,” Paul said, pointing out the large window to a plane warming its engines on the dark runway. “That jet over there.”

  Blake’s grin was instant. “Perfect.”

  “Perfect?” Julie asked, astounded. “That’s just for us? It’ll cost a fortune!”

  “We have a fortune. Two of them.”

  “Not for long if we spend it this recklessly.” She turned back to Paul, who watched her with laughing eyes. “Couldn’t we take a Cessna or something?”

  He shrugged. “I could’ve gotten a crop duster, but the man said he wanted luxury.”

  “But . . . a jet? I don’t know.”

  “I’m paying for this part,” Blake said, taking her by the arm and leading her to the door. “And it’s already arranged, so please try to grin and bear it.” He turned back to Paul, who rolled behind them. “Poor thing. She just has to endure so much.”

  “Be kind to her, Adcock. Every now and then dress her in a burlap sack and feed her cold cereal so she’ll feel a little more secure.”

  “You two are impossible,” she said. “I’m not a cheapskate. It’s just that I don’t like to spend money.”

  “I see the difference,” Blake said. “Don’t you, Paul?”

  Paul nodded adamantly. “It’s very clear to me.”

  “Oh, let’s just go. I’ll try to enjoy it without thinking about how many bolts of silk I could buy with this money.”

  “I’ll buy you all the silk you want when we get back,” Blake said as he pulled her out onto the tarmac. He bit his lip like a little boy trying to suppress his delight. “Oh, this is gonna be great!”

  “THIS ISN’T AN AIRPLANE; it’s a hotel with wings!” Julie exclaimed when they had boarded the luxurious jet.

  “Oh, don’t exaggerate, Julie,” Blake said. “It doesn’t even have a swimming pool.”

  Julie gaped at him as he stepped inside as if he’d been raised there, dropped his duffel bag on the floor, and plopped down on a couch. “Blake, what has gotten into you? This isn’t necessary. We could have taken a plane a tenth this size and it would have been fine.”

  With a flourish, he propped his feet on the coffee table and clasped his hands behind his head. “But I wanted to impress you.”

  Julie laughed and laid her big purse on the floor, kicked off her shoes, and stepped over them. “Impress me? I was impressed a few days ago when you couldn’t even afford a tip!”

  The exclamation struck Blake as funny. As if he couldn’t contain the silly giddiness that was so apparent on his face, he began to laugh.

  “What’s so funny?” she asked, trying not to catch the laughter herself.

  “I was just thinking,” he chortled, “about how I couldn’t even afford to put gas in my car a few days ago. . . .”

  “And now you’ve rented Air Force One.”

  “Yeah. And if it flies well, I might even buy it.”

  Julie’s face flushed, and she peered out the window to remind herself that they were still on the ground. “And if it doesn’t fly well?”

  Blake lifted a rugged brow. “You can swim, can’t you?”

  The plane began to roll down the runway, and Julie tumbled to the sofa as her hand slapped over her stomach. “I just hope the designer put as much attention into this thing’s engine as he did into its carpeting.”

  “I don’t know,” Blake teased, examining the deep pile. “This is pretty nice carpeting.�
�

  It wasn’t until they were in the air that Julie managed to loosen up. If the engine wasn’t strong enough to support a bar and enough couches to fill a hotel lobby, they would have crashed by now, she reasoned. Besides, there was something to be said for the boyish enthusiasm Blake exuded.

  “Why don’t you go to sleep?” Blake asked when her spirits mellowed enough to make her pull up her feet onto the sofa.

  “Can’t,” Julie said. “It isn’t every day I fly off to New York on a jet with a man I hardly know.” She watched, smiling, as Blake sifted through a stack of brochures about New York. “I like Paul,” she said. “Tell me about him. How did he become a paraplegic? Was he born that way?”

  “Nope. In college he was our first-string tight end.” He glanced up from the brochure. “I, of course, was the quarterback.”

  “Of course.”

  “Paul and I used to get into some real messes.” Blake chuckled as if the old days were spelled out on the pages of the flyer he was holding.

  “So what happened to him?”

  Blake’s face sobered. “We were driving home for spring break our senior year, and an 18-wheeler ran us off the road.” His voice dropped to an almost-inaudible level as the memories flashed through his mind. “The car rolled a couple times. To make a long story short, Paul had a lot of injuries. I walked away, but he never walked again.”

  Julie straightened. “Oh, Blake. I’m so sorry.”

  He nodded and met her sympathetic eyes. “I felt guilty for years. I’d been driving, and I kept thinking that if he’d been driving, maybe his reflexes would have been sharper, or maybe I would have been hurt instead of him. But Paul is a Christian, and he trusts God’s sovereignty. He really believes that it would have happened the same way no matter who had been driving. He never blamed me for a minute.”

  “No wonder he’s been so good at helping disabled people.”

  “Yeah. He turned his handicap into an advantage and built his business out of his own frustrations. How many people do you know who could take something like that and make it into something positive?”

  “So you wanted to be a part of it?” she observed softly.