Unable to dawdle a moment longer, Mary Katherine turned away from the mirror. “I’m ready.”
“Good.” Sara bounced to her feet with an energy Mary Katherine might never feel again. “I’ll show you the apartment, then we’ll have lunch, and then I’ll take you to the Queen and introduce you to Eladio. Believe me, he’ll fix whatever’s broke. You’ll feel like a million bucks for tonight’s shift.”
As she followed Sara less than gracefully to her car outside, Mary Katherine sincerely hoped she was right.
The apartment was on the first floor of an older house in an older neighborhood. It was a short drive to the Queen, the rent was easily manageable on her regular salary, and the tall ceilings and spacious rooms reminded her of her own house back in Jubilee. Mary Katherine signed the lease, took the keys and considered reneging on lunch and Eladio so she could move in immediately. But when the grumbling of her empty stomach was enough to send an ache through her, she decided to stick to the original plan.
Two hours later, with Eladio working his charm everywhere he touched, she was glad she had. The room was dimly lit, the table surprisingly comfortable. She lay on her stomach, wearing nothing but a sheet that was modestly draped, and she drowsily thought she might have gone to heaven as Eladio’s strong fingers worked the kinks out of tight muscles down her legs. When he reached her left calf, she gave a great, satisfied moan.
“Now that sounded almost erotic.”
Instantly her newly relaxed muscles tensed again. She opened one eye and saw a pair of running shoes, two nicely muscled legs and a pair of well-worn jogging shorts. She couldn’t look higher without moving, but she didn’t need to. She knew only one man with a voice like that, only one man who could send tension streaking through her with no more than a well-worded tease. “We had a deal,” she murmured. “Go away.”
Instead he crouched in front of her, where she could see that shoes, socks and shorts were all he wore. His chest was broad, smooth, golden-brown, damp with sweat and, like his legs, impressively muscled. His dark blond hair was damp, too, and slicked back from his face. He looked powerful. Purely male. Purely sexual.
And she felt like an inexperienced little virgin who just might melt into a puddle at his feet.
“You don’t really want me to go away, angel. I have a message for you from Sara. She said to tell you she forgot she had a fitting for her wedding dress this afternoon.”
“She’s getting married?”
“In two weeks.”
And just this morning she’d been bemoaning the fact that Chance had never looked twice at her. Not an auspicious beginning for a marriage, Mary Katherine thought. “Fine. You’ve delivered Sara’s message. Now go away.”
“That’s not all of it. I’m giving you a ride home.”
Home being a sleazy motel with a rumpled bed not four feet inside the door. This time she couldn’t swallow, couldn’t blink away the image of the two of them making good use of that bed, couldn’t put the words together to tell him she’d rather walk all the way back on her poor, aching feet.
He didn’t wait for a response, though. He unfolded to his feet with great ease and actually had the nerve to muss her hair as he walked past. “I’m going to take a shower and meet you outside. Don’t take too long.”
She delayed as long as she could, but her time with Eladio was up too soon, and he had another client waiting. Dragging excess sheet behind her, she padded barefoot into the dressing room, luxuriating in the miracles the masseur had wrought. Her body felt light, fluid, formless, though her feet still ached.
But once she stepped out into the hall—the passageway, the crew called it—and saw Chance waiting, the stiffness returned. “I really don’t need a ride home.”
He subjected her to another of those lazy appraisals that made her feel vastly underdressed, which was ridiculous. Except for her arms and a bit of her throat, the dress covered her from shoulder to knee. She was appropriately dressed for anything from school to church to a casual dinner out.
For anything but Chance Reynard’s lazy green gaze.
Folding her arms across her chest, she stumbled on. “I—I can call a cab if you’ll point me to a pay phone.”
Once again he leaned toward her and lowered his voice correspondingly. “I’ve seen you in a lot less, angel.”
Giving him a narrowed scowl, she started for the stairs. He certainly had seen her in less, and long before last night. In fact, he’d seen her wearing nothing but moonlight on the banks of a lazy creek that meandered through somebody’s property. He’d told her she was beautiful, told her he loved her, told her he wanted her more desperately than words could say, and then he’d shown her, time after time, all night long, until sunrise forced them back into their clothing. It had been the most incredible night of her life…followed by the most horrific day.
No matter how hard she’d tried, she’d never forgotten walking into the garage that afternoon, both emotionally jazzed from their lovemaking and wiped out from telling Jonathan and her parents about it. She’d gone to tell Chance that she’d ended the engagement, that she was free to be with him, that nothing stood between them. She’d expected to see joy in his eyes, to be swept up into his arms and thoroughly kissed, to hear once more those words of love that had wrapped themselves around her heart and her very soul.
Instead she’d been met by Jake, another mechanic at the garage. Chance was gone, Jake had told her. He’d packed up and moved on that morning. He hadn’t known where he was going, hadn’t known if he would ever be back. He’d only known it was time to go.
She’d thrown away her safe, secure future for him, and he’d left her.
God, just the memory of it made her want to smack him again!
She’d gone up two flights of stairs and halfway down the gangway, with Chance on her heels, before she stopped abruptly. “Which part of ‘I don’t want a ride’ did you not understand?”
“I understand all of it.” His shrug was pure innocence. “But I haven’t heard you say it yet.”
Mary Katherine closed her eyes and tilted her face to the sky. It was three o’clock, and she had plenty to do before coming to work at six, starting with checking out of Motel le Dump and moving into her apartment. It was a hundred and eighty degrees, the humidity made the air so thick she could barely breathe, and all the magic Eladio had worked was slowly seeping away into the hot nonskid surface beneath her feet.
And Chance was right. She hadn’t actually said she didn’t want a ride from him.
“I should think, after last night’s conversation, I wouldn’t have to bluntly spell it out for you. You remember. When we agreed to keep our distance.”
“Aw, come on, angel,” he said, his voice the essence of a lazy, sexy Southern drawl. “We tried that before, remember? And it didn’t work. What makes you think it’ll be any different this time?”
“Because we’re older. More mature. Less naive.”
“Sugar, I was never naive.” He grinned as he covered his eyes with a pair of dark glasses. She wondered where they’d come from. After his shower, he’d changed into jeans worn to body-hugging softness and a snug-fitting white T-shirt. She would swear there wasn’t room to hide a credit card, much less glasses…if she was looking that closely at him. Of course, she wasn’t, she insisted as she forced her gaze back to his eyes, now hidden. She wished for her own sunglasses but couldn’t remember where they should be, couldn’t think where she might look.
The breath she took was superheated and spread through her with the searing force of a wildfire. She wasn’t sure her voice would work, was surprised that it didn’t come out a hoarse, husky rasp. “I was naive. I didn’t know back then what a man like you could do.”
He trailed one finger down her bare arm and sent a shiver racing through her. “And what can a man like me do?” But this time there was no drawl, no natural arrogance or sex appeal. Just a soft, serious question, as if he really wanted to know.
He could make a woman
forget common sense, good intentions, her own name. He could make her throw twenty-one years of proper upbringing out the window. Could make her stretch out and purr, beg, lose herself and her dignity and her pride. He could make her become a whole other person, a special person to be wanted—at least, temporarily—by him, and he could just as easily turn her into a fool.
His finger curved around the crook of her elbow, glided down her forearm, then loosely encircled her wrist. Such a simple touch, so innocent and so wicked. Hypnotizing, mesmerizing, promising everything…and delivering nothing. Nothing but heartache, hurt, tears, guilt.
Mary Katherine forced herself to step away, to move resolutely down the gangway to the gravel parking lot. The Queen’s berth was at the end of a narrow street that led no-place else—to keep the common tourists away, according to Granddad. Regular tourists, he’d stated with some conceit, weren’t really welcome on the Queen. She catered to a higher class of player.
Even now, remembering the self-importance in his voice made her eyes roll. Maybe he’d been fleeced, as he claimed, or maybe he was just a bad gambler. Either way, at least he’d found some satisfaction in the knowledge he’d lost his life savings in a place that didn’t deign to rip off the common tourist.
In the middle of a hot June afternoon, hours before the Queen’s first evening cruise, there was no traffic at all on the street, but surely it wasn’t far to the nearest pay phone. Not that Chance was going to let her walk to a pay phone, or honor the agreement they’d made last night, or do anything at all that wasn’t exactly what he wanted. The sooner she gave in and accepted that, the sooner she could get to the motel and start packing.
When she’d come to a stop in the parking lot, so had he. She glanced at the dozen cars parked in a haphazard pattern, from the elegant silver Mercedes closest to the gangway to a cherry-red Cuda in the corner with enough power under the hood to leave all comers in its dust. With its sleek, mint-condition body and the powerful rumble of its finely tuned engine, it was enough to make any man with the slightest appreciation for things mechanical stop for a lingering, longing look. She and it had been the loves of Chance’s life eight years ago, or so he’d claimed.
But when he’d left her behind without even a goodbye, he’d taken the Cuda with him. While he’d forgotten she even existed in the years since, he’d pampered the Cuda into impeccable condition. Of course, he’d still had a use for the Cuda. Sex, he could get with any woman anywhere merely by crooking his finger or grinning that brash, wicked, lust-inspiring grin. But when the sex was over, he’d always needed the Cuda to get away.
When she turned in the car’s direction, Chance fell into step beside her, feeling a hint of unexpected relief that she wasn’t going to be difficult. Until that moment he hadn’t realized how important it was that she go along with him, that she give up this stupid notion of keeping their distance. He wasn’t much interested in wasting his time on futile exercises.
He opened the passenger door for her, and a blast of heat billowed out. By the time they’d rolled down the windows and left the parking lot, sweat was trickling down his spine and his face was damp with it. “You know, I love this baby,” he commented, patting the blistering dash, “but there are times when I find myself looking longingly at a newer model with dual climate control.”
She smiled faintly. “But think of all you’d have to give up just to get a decent air conditioner. Newer models have no personality.”
“Air cooled to seventy degrees can be personality enough.” Reaching State Street, he asked, “Where to?”
She gave him the names of the intersection nearest her motel. When he pulled into the parking lot and followed her directions to her room at the back, he gave a low whistle. “Oh, angel, I wasn’t just a once-in-a-lifetime aberrance, was I? You like living dangerously.”
She glanced around the parking lot and at the bar next door. “This place is all right.”
“All right? If Natchez has a crime central, this is it. You’re probably the only law-abiding citizen anywhere on this street.” He deliberately left himself out of the “law-abiding” part.
“I wasn’t sure how long it would take me to find an apartment, so I wanted someplace cheap. But I’m moving out today.”
“I’ll wait while you do,” he said, giving the parking lot another look while she unlocked the flimsiest of dead bolts, then led the way into a dingy room. The carpet’s original color was indistinguishable, and its primary characteristic was the way it stuck to the soles of his shoes. The walls were dark brown, the lightbulbs insufficient, and the window air conditioner provided more noise than cooling.
Leaving the door open, he stopped beside the bed and watched as she hefted a suitcase onto the rumpled covers. She packed quickly and efficiently, folding sundresses still on hangers into the suitcase, stuffing cosmetics and toiletries into a large zippered bag. Within five minutes, with the showgirl costume tossed on top, she was done.
He carried her bags to her car, stowing them while she went inside the motel office to check out. When she returned, he was leaning against the driver’s door, blocking her way, watching as she struggled with her perfect-Southern-belle upbringing to find a way to politely send him on his way. Grinning, he said, “You’re welcome.”
That earned him the faintest hint of a smile. “Thank you. Since we’ve had this little…visit this afternoon, there’s really no need for me to see you at work tonight, is there?” Though she phrased it as a question, she was clearly too hopeful by half that his answer was going to be no. He almost hated to disappoint her.
“I’ve always got a need, darlin’.” Ever since the day she’d walked into the garage where he was working, wrapped in an aura of untapped sensuality, trailing subtle fragrances that snared him more thoroughly than the most addictive drug, rousing the most incredible sense of possessiveness he’d ever known. “I’m having trouble with my car,” she’d said in a delicate-Southern-flower way, and he’d been a goner.
Jake had warned him away from her. So had the two-carat diamond rock on her ring finger. Hell, he’d given himself the sternest warnings of all. For all the good they’d done.
“Well…” Clearly she was disappointed with his answer. “Goodbye.”
He grinned at the deliberate finality of her farewell and purposely made his own goodbye equally tentative. “See you around, sugar.”
Moving aside, he let her climb into her car. The engine started right up, and he could see by the faint stirring of her hair that the air conditioner was turned on full-blast with all vents pointed her way. He could also see her lips moving as she backed out of the parking space, and he’d even give good odds that he’d understood what she’d said. Not if I can help it.
If she could help it, she was stronger than he was, or maybe more immune. He didn’t think so, though. He’d felt her shiver when he’d touched her arm there on the gangway. He’d seen the look that had come into her eyes before she’d chased it away—the lazy, hazy, turned-on look that was damn near enough to make a man weak.
She wasn’t immune. Neither of them was.
Giving the motel one last, disbelieving look, he got into his car and peeled out of the parking lot. Usually he reported to work around five o’clock. Today he wanted to make a phone call first.
His apartment was located in an older building a few miles from the Queen. It was pretty standard—living and dining room, galley kitchen, bedroom and bath. Like newer-model cars, it lacked personality, but the air-conditioning worked just fine, and he didn’t spend enough time there to care that it was an exact cookie-cutter replica of literally tens of thousands of apartments across the country. It was a place to store his belongings and to sleep—usually alone. Nothing more.
He took a bottle of water from the mostly empty refrigerator, sat at the dining table and dialed the number he’d committed to memory fourteen months ago. He’d committed the usual answer to memory, too.
“Jake’s Classic Cars. You need a part, we’ll fin
d it.”
“Hey, Jake.”
“Chance. One of my best customers. How’s the Cuda?”
“Hot.”
Jake put a different spin on the word than Chance had intended. “It’s always been hot, son. That’s what attracted you to it in the first place.”
“Yeah, well, I gotta tell you, something with a really cold A.C. system is looking good about now.”
“You say that every summer.”
“This summer I mean it.”
“You say that every summer, too,” Jake replied, making Chance laugh. “You decide to trade it in on some little plastic-and-chrome four-wheel-drive sport-utility vehicle, let me know. I could come up with about a hundred buyers in an afternoon.”
“I’m not talking about trading it in. Just maybe giving it a rest on some of these hundred-degree afternoons.” He took a long drink of water, then said, “We’ve got a bunch of new hires. You ready?”
“Go ahead.”
Aware that the tape recorder was running, Chance rattled off the list from memory, not hesitating until he got to the last name. Mary Katherine.
There was a moment’s silence on the line, then Jake said, “The Mary Katherine Monroe?”
“The one and only.”
The curse his boss muttered was low and indistinct. The sigh that followed it wasn’t. “Your daddy named you right, son. You got some luck.”
Chance lifted the water bottle to his forehead, letting the condensation help the cooling job the air conditioner had started. Jake was one of the few people in the state who knew much about Chance’s family—that his father was a gambler, that he’d named his first son Chance because it was French for luck, that Chance’s family nickname was, in fact, Lucky.
“She still turn you inside out?”
“And upside down.”
“What in sweet hell is she doing on the Queen?”
“Summer job. Make some money. Get away from the kids she teaches the other nine months of the year.”
“Does she know you’re there?”
“We’ve had a few run-ins.”
Who Do You Love? Page 13
