Theirs by Chance

by Karen Ann Dell

  The Baileys were a sixty-ish retired couple from Fells Point; the Andersons, a younger couple with an eight-year-old son named Josh, were from D.C.; and Dan Simons, a single man in his thirties, turned out to be a veterinarian scouting for a rural town to set up his first solo practice.

  Daisy was a big hit, especially with the little boy, and Marjorie was relieved to see how well the dog reacted to her clients. She was up early preparing the dishes for her breakfast buffet when Josh appeared in the kitchen doorway.

  “Good morning, Josh. Did you sleep okay?” The Andersons were in her big front room, where there was enough space to set up a rollaway bed for the youngster.

  “Yes, Ma’am.” He looked longingly at Daisy, who rewarded his interest with a few lazy slaps of her tail on the floor.

  “Breakfast won’t be ready for a little while. Would you like to go outside with Daisy? I’m sure she’d love to play ball.”

  “Can I?” He bounced on his toes.

  “Sure. Her ball is in that box by the door.” She nodded toward the back door. “Stay in the yard, Josh. I’ll call you when breakfast is ready.”

  “Yes, Ma’am. Come on, Daisy.”

  Boy and dog bounded out the door and down the steps, practically knocking Lance over as he sidestepped out of their way. He watched a few seconds, then came inside.

  “Good morning, Marjorie.” He stood behind her at the stove, lifted the mass of curls, and dropped a kiss on her neck.

  Ever since D-day, which in Marjorie’s mind stood for the day Daisy became hers, Lance took whatever opportunities he could find to touch her hand, put an arm around her waist or nuzzle her behind the ear. Each time he touched her, Marjorie craved the feel of those strong fingers more and more. She knew she should put a stop to these spontaneous displays of tenderness, but she couldn’t bring herself to rebuff him.

  “Good morning, Lance. How was work?” Marjorie slid the platter of sausages into the oven to keep warm while she greased the griddle for the pancakes. “Coffee’s ready if you want to pour yourself a cup.”

  “Work was fine. I’ve got the hang of things now and can pretty much work the board blindfolded.” He leaned in and sniffed. “Mmm, smells good.”

  “They’re blueberry pancakes. Want some?” She expertly flipped two over.

  “I wasn’t talking about the food.”

  The third pancake missed the griddle, teetered on the edge of the stove, then slithered to the floor. She tossed him a frown over her shoulder. “Stop flirting with me while I’m cooking.”

  “I like it when you get all flustered.” He tugged on a long springy curl and wrapped the end around his finger.

  She shook her head to loosen his grip and tried to hide her smile. “Put that pancake in Daisy’s bowl, please.”

  “I thought you didn’t want to feed her people food.”

  “I don’t, on a regular basis. But one pancake can’t hurt her and it seems a shame to waste it.”

  He gingerly picked up the hot round and dropped it into Daisy’s bowl.

  “You could eat with the guests this morning, you know. They’re all very nice. And Dan Simmons appears to be about your age. He’s a vet searching for a small town to start his practice. I’m thinking if he picks Blue Point Cove, I might switch to him rather than drive to Salisbury when I need a vet.”

  Lance studied her for a moment. “Yeah?”

  “Yeah. He seems nice enough, and Daisy likes him already.” She cocked her head. “So, will you stay and eat here?”

  “No, thanks. I’ll just grab a plate and take it over to my place.” He snitched two pancakes from the stack, added a few strips of bacon, and poured syrup over both. “You need me for anything today?”

  “No, I don’t think so. The Andersons rented a sailboat from the marina, the Baileys want to window shop downtown, and Dan says he’s going to scout out the neighborhood to get the feel of the place. Once they’re all gone, I’ll take Daisy for a walk and be back in plenty of time to set up afternoon tea and cookies.”

  “Okay, then I’ll—”

  Marjorie turned from the stove to find Mr. Simmons in the doorway. Tall and lean, with wavy blond hair and light blue eyes, Dan was a nice-looking man with an easy-going manner and a quick smile.

  “Good Morning, Dan. I hope you slept well?”

  “I did, Marjorie, thanks. You’ve got a nice place here.” He turned to Lance and held out his hand. “Hi, I’m Dan Simmons.”

  “Lance Fisher. Nice to meet you.”

  “Likewise.” They shook then Dan gave his attention to Marjorie, who was removing the warmed plates from the oven. “Mmm. Smells great.”

  Marjorie pressed her lips together and slid a glance toward Lance. “Thank you. Go have a seat at the table in the dining room. There’s orange and grapefruit juice on the sideboard and a carafe of coffee, too.”

  “I can help you bring the food out, if you like, Marjorie,” Dan offered.

  Lance stepped up to the stove. “No, that’s okay. You’re a guest. You go on in. I’ll help Marjorie with the platters.”

  Marjorie almost dropped the one she had in her hand at Lance’s offer. He took it, and the one with the sausage and bacon, and disappeared around the corner to the dining room. She snapped her mouth closed and followed with a bowl of fresh fruit and a plate of assorted muffins. Butter, jam, and jelly were already on the table.

  The Andersons came downstairs next.

  “I don’t suppose you’ve seen Josh?” Mrs. Anderson asked.

  “Ten to one he’s outside with the dog, Sue,” her husband said.

  “He is indeed,” Marjorie confirmed. “I told him I’d call when breakfast was ready.” She went back into the kitchen and found Lance watching the pair out the window. Marjorie had to stop a moment and breathe around the lump in her throat. If she could have anything in the world, it would be to have this scene every morning. Only in place of Josh, she and Lance would be watching their own son or daughter.

  Not gonna happen, girl. And you’d better quit fantasizing about things you’ll never have.

  She opened the door and called, “Josh, breakfast is ready. Come on in and wash your hands. Your mom and dad are waiting for you.”

  “Thank you, Ma’am.” He dropped a now-soggy tennis ball into her hand and went to the sink.

  “Ew.” Marjorie grabbed a paper towel and dried off the ball.

  Lance stood aside but put a dollop of dish soap in the kid’s hands. “Wash ‘em good, young man. Playing with dogs is dirty work.” He glanced at Marjorie over the top of the kid’s head.

  Their eyes locked, and Marjorie had the distinct impression that Lance could read the longing on her face as she glanced from him to Josh. It was harder and harder to keep her emotionless mask in place when Lance was near, and from the intensity in his eyes, he mirrored the same feelings she’d let show.

  Josh grinned up at Lance. “Daisy’s real nice. I want a dog just like her.” He worked up a lather, then rinsed.

  Lance handed him a dishtowel. “Dogs take a lot of work too, you know. You have to feed, and groom, and walk them, as well as play with them.”

  “I’d do that, if my folks would only let me have one.” Josh handed back the towel and raced into the dining room. “Mom. Dad. Can I have a dog?”

  Marjorie and Lance shared a smile. “Are you sure you don’t want to join us?”

  He hesitated, and for a moment she thought he might, but then he shook his head. “Thanks for breakfast, Marjorie. See you later.” He picked up his plate and left.

  Marjorie locked the door behind him and watched him cross the yard and climb the stairs. With a sigh, she turned and went into the dining room to have tea and fresh fruit with her guests.

  Chapter 11

  August seemed to fly by,
and before Marjorie knew it, Labor Day loomed the following week. Today was Tuesday, generally her slowest day for guests. She seldom had reservations for an entire week, but long weekends, from Thursday nights to Mondays, were her bread and butter. Tuesday meant catching up on the laundry, and she kept the washer and dryer busy with loads of sheets and towels. The basement stayed cooler in these steamy August days, so she ironed sheets and her own clothes down there and piled them on the dumbwaiter to distribute. That marvelous invention from years ago saved her countless trips up and down three flights of stairs. She and Molly, a high school student from town, had cleaned all the bedrooms and baths yesterday after her last guest checked out, and remade the beds with fresh linens. Marjorie kept at least two sets of sheets and towels for each guest room so they were always ready for an unexpected customer. Like Lance had been so many months ago.

  Lately, her thoughts always came back to him. And how much she longed to feel his hands on her body, and his mouth on hers. The near miss on D-day only served to ramp up her desire to near intolerable levels.

  “Good thing we have that dumbwaiter, huh, Daisy?” She talked to the dog in an effort to distract herself from visions of Lance’s body.

  The dog had abandoned her bed in the kitchen and stretched out on the cool cement floor in the cellar while Marjorie busied herself between laundry loads with ironing. She gave a lazy slap of her tail in response to Marjorie’s comment and rolled onto her back in an open invitation for a belly rub.

  Marjorie obliged and bent down to stroke her. In the weeks since she’d adopted Daisy, she’d come to love her more than she realized she could ever love an animal. “I don’t know how I ever got along without you, girl,” she said, giving her a scratch behind the ears before she stood again.

  She checked her watch. Four-thirty. She’d promised Lance a celebratory dinner tonight. He’d finished his sessions with Chris Majewski, which she considered a significant milestone in his recovery.

  “Okay, girl, time for me to start dinner.”

  Daisy bounded up the stairs and stood at the back door, as Marjorie followed with a bit less bounce in her step. Ironing sheets took a lot of elbow grease, but she loved the crisp snap of wrinkle-free linens when she made the beds. She let Daisy out to play, and began dinner prep.

  She flipped over the steaks marinating in teriyaki sauce and put them back in the fridge until Lance judged the grill at the proper temperature. Although he rarely ate with her guests at breakfast, he’d taken over the grill whenever they shared dinner in the evenings.

  Meanwhile, she shucked four ears of Silver Queen corn and cut up potatoes for homemade steak fries. She went outside to pick a handful of cherry tomatoes and a cucumber from her four-foot-square raised garden plot at the back of the yard.

  Daisy trotted over with her ball and dropped it at her feet.

  “I’ve got my hands full, girl. I can’t stop to play right now.”

  Daisy nudged her knee again, her eyes mournful.

  A sharp whistle had the dog bounding up the stairs to Lance’s door, dancing with joy as her favorite play buddy emerged from his apartment. Lance took the ball and pitched it to the far side of the yard, and Daisy was off like a shot after it.

  Marjorie waited at the bottom of the stairs and enjoyed the view of Lance’s long legs in gym shorts and his broad chest sheathed in a taut muscle shirt that left his carved biceps bare and had the Army star proudly displayed front and center.

  Her breath hitched at the warmth in his smile.

  I am so screwed.

  Daisy was back with her toy, and Lance tossed it again, then slid an arm around her waist and hauled her in for a quick kiss. “How did your day go, Marjorie?”

  “Fine. Lots of laundry and a few more pairs of earrings finished. How about you? Did you sleep well?”

  “I did. Want to hear about my dreams?” He gave her a wicked grin, his eyes sparking with mischief.

  “I’ll pass on that, thanks.” She gestured with her hands full of vegetables. “I have a salad to make, and you have a fire to start.” Which you’ve already done, for me anyway.

  Daisy had returned, oblivious to the innuendos flying between the two, and danced with impatience in front of Lance. With hardly a glance at the dog, he grabbed the ball and sailed it to the far corner of the yard again.

  “Your wish is my command.” He hit her with another of those heart-stopping smiles.

  Marjorie merely rolled her eyes and went inside. She took several deep breaths to steady her hands before she attempted to slice the cucumber.

  She was playing with fire. Her attraction to Lance was like a runaway train, and she couldn’t seem to find the brakes. She couldn’t go on letting him think they might have a future together. But how to step back? How to keep their friendship intact while making it clear their relationship couldn’t go any deeper? If she let him inside her defenses, she might be risking his life. Either way, Lance would be hurt, and she hated the thought of causing him pain.

  In the weeks since Zoe first told her about her picture appearing, not only on the Internet, but in that art magazine as well, Marjorie’s panic had slowly ebbed. She no longer studied every stranger she passed in the grocery store, or maintained a constant vigil when she took Daisy for her walks. At night, she began to let little tendrils of hope sprout as she drifted off to sleep. It had been six years. Maybe she had truly escaped. Maybe she was safe.

  Safe enough to stay.

  Safe enough to fall in love.

  The tough shell those years of conditioning had built around her heart was cracking. She had to decide.

  Soon.

  Lance stood to help her clear the table.

  “I have to take Daisy for a walk in a bit.” She picked up their plates to take to the sink. “Care to come along?”

  “I’d like that,” Lance said. “In fact, anytime you’re busy and need me to walk her, I’d be glad to help out.”

  “Really?” Lance certainly had made progress if he was willing to walk around town.

  “Sure. After all, Daisy’s my girl.”

  The words stabbed through Marjorie’s heart, sharper than any knives. Great. Now she was jealous of a dog. How pathetic was that? Good thing she stood at the sink with her back to him, otherwise she knew he would see the pain his words caused. She turned on the water in case her voice might betray her emotions, and began to rinse the plates. “Would you like dessert first? I made strawberry shortcake.” She started at the brush of Lance’s fingers on her neck.

  I swear the man could sneak up on a ninja.

  “What I would like,” he murmured as he slid his hand into the mass of curls and kissed her behind the ear, “is to be able to call you my woman.”

  The plate slipped from her fingers and clattered into the sink. Marjorie spun around and searched his eyes for confirmation she hadn’t imagined those words. There was honesty and commitment in his gaze—and heat. Lots of heat.

  Stab wound instantly healed, her heart beat so hard she could feel it in her lips, in her fingertips, as she traced the curve of his jaw, in her core, where she clenched as the bulge in his shorts pressed against her. Give it up, woman. There’s no hiding from him any longer. She slid her arms around his neck and kissed her permission.

  Lance gathered her in his arms and trailed kisses down her throat. He slipped a hand under her top and began a tender assault on her breast.

  Marjorie moaned as her knees began to liquefy.

  “Does the dessert come with whipped cream?”

  She nodded.

  “Then let’s save it until we’re back from our walk. I like whipped cream.” He kissed the tip of her nose. “On everything.”

  Marjorie’s jaw dropped open. Where had the restrained, polite, ex-military man gone? Somehow he’d morphed into a devilishly handso
me, wickedly sensual male who had lust spiraling through her with just a kiss or two. Or three.

  Lance took the stairs to his apartment two at a time, unlocked his door, and strode inside. He’d have to change clothes before they went for a walk. In these gym shorts, everyone they passed would have no doubt what was on his mind.

  He switched to a pair of loose cargo shorts with pockets handy enough to conceal his Sig—and the persistent hard-on he couldn’t make stand down completely. Maybe he should ask Marjorie for tips on disguises. He smiled to himself. Before tonight was over, he’d know exactly how every inch of her felt, and tasted.

  She and Daisy waited for him at the bottom of the stairs. The dog’s red collar and leash were a bright standout against her white and cream coat. Marjorie in soft, wide-legged linen pants, an aqua tank with a teal big shirt over it, made him think of summer sunshine and clear water lapping on a beach. She was so beautiful, he couldn’t resist kissing her lightly, then taking her hand once they left the yard.

  The summer evenings were still bright, and a breeze off the bay brought the scents of salt and sea grass with a tang of fish. They strolled toward the marina, where sailboats rocked gently on the swells, their masts like slow metronomes punctuated by the metallic clang of rigging and the cries of gulls searching for handouts.

  They passed Belle’s Shells restaurant, its outside deck full of folks having a late dinner. Lance squeezed Marjorie’s hand to get her attention. “Let’s have dinner here the next time we celebrate something.” Like you telling me one of your many secrets.

  “Do we have to wait for something to celebrate?” She studied the menu in the glass case at the end of the wooden walkway. “I do so love seafood. Oh, my, they have crab imperial on the menu. That’s one of my absolute favorites.”