Golden Chances

by Rebecca Hagan Lee

  “Joy is not going with you.”

  He looked down at the child holding his hand. “Are you hungry, sprite?”

  Joy nodded.

  Faith offered Joy a hand. “Come on, Joy, we’re getting off. We’re going back to Richmond.”

  Joy stayed where she was. “I’m hungry.”

  “We can eat on the train to Richmond,” Faith explained.

  “Is Weese going with us?”

  “No, Mr. Jordan is staying here on this train.”

  “Will I have my woom on the train to Wichmond?”

  “No, sweetie, we sit on benches like we did the first time.” She stepped closer to take Joy by the hand.

  Joy shook her head and clung to Reese. “I want to stay with Weese.”

  “You can’t, sweetie,” Faith was getting a little desperate. “You must come with me.”

  “You can stay with me if you want, sprite,” Reese promised as Joy moved closer to Reese and wrapped an arm around his leg above the knee.

  “No, she can’t!” Faith glared at him. “She’s my responsibility.”

  “The contract you signed gave me the responsibility for Joy and for you,” Reese corrected her smugly, reminding her of her legal obligation. “You may return to Richmond if you want to, but you relinquish all rights to Joy for a year.”

  “I would never do that!” Angry tears sparkled in Faith’s eyes.

  His voice was firm. “If you return to Richmond, Joy will stay with me.”

  “That’s not fair! You can’t―”

  “I will.” He reached out to touch Faith’s cheek. She jerked away from his fingers. “You lose, Miss Collins.”

  “It’s Mrs. Jordan.” Faith did not concede defeat graciously. She was angry at him for using Joy against her. And angry with Joy for betraying her. “I hate you.”

  “Fine.” Reese’s expression was closed, unreadable. “Hate me all you want. After breakfast.” He took her elbow and guided her toward the door. He was furious at her for her stubborn refusal as well as her deception and for reminding him he’d married her by proxy. And he was furious with himself for ruthlessly blackmailing her into submission.

  He hated using Joy against her, but he would do whatever was necessary to keep Faith Collins within his reach. He refused to acknowledge the painful expression on her face or the way her angry words ripped at his insides.

  Chapter Fifteen

  “All right, dammit, you win,” Reese exploded as the train slowly chugged its way out of Chicago.

  He had endured yet another silent breakfast—the third―and that was enough.

  Faith ignored him.

  “Did you hear me?” Reese asked. “I said you win.”

  “I wasn’t aware we were competing.” The chill in her voice was unmistakable.

  “The hell you weren’t!” Reese got up from his desk and began to pace along the length of the carpet right in front of where Faith sat embroidering. “You’ve given me the silent treatment for the past two days. I’ve had enough of it. I’m tired of sitting outside in the cold half the night. And I’m tired of picking you up off the sofa and putting you to bed every night.”

  He was also tired of waking up each morning throbbing with unrequited desire. Oh, she was more than willing to curl up to him in her sleep, to share his body heat and plant her firm little fanny against his naked arousal. But the minute she opened her eyes she turned frosty. If he so much as touched her while she was conscious, the air turned decidedly colder.

  “I’m quite willing to sleep on the sofa,” Faith reminded him. “I didn’t ask to be carried to your bed each night. In fact, I would prefer to sleep alone.”

  “Too bad,” Reese told her, “because that wasn’t part of the deal.” He pointed a finger in her direction. “You haven’t lived up to your end of the bargain. According to our contract, you owe me more time in the sack.”

  Faith stood up. His finger missed touching her nose by a mere fraction of an inch. She stared at his finger, then looked him over from top to bottom, refusing to be intimidated. “And you, Mr. Jordan, owe me an apology.” She folded away her sewing and placed it in her basket.

  “For what? Remember, you’re the one who lied. You told me you were a widow and Joy was your little girl.”

  “I never said Joy was my child. You assumed―”

  “So you lied by omission. What about your sainted husband, Champ?”

  “Your assumption,” Faith pointed out. “I never actually told you I’d been married.”

  “You’re wearing a wedding band.” He grabbed hold of her left hand, lifting it up in front of her face so she could see the thin gold band. His touch burned her flesh. Her body tingled with awareness.

  Faith snatched her hand away.

  “What was I supposed to think?” Reese asked.

  “All right!” she yelled at him, losing control. “All right, I admit it. I lied to you. I deceived you. I betrayed your trust. I let you believe I was something I wasn’t. Is that what you want to hear?” Tears formed in her eyes, then rolled down her cheeks. She ruthlessly wiped them away with the back of her hand.

  Reese placed his hands on her shoulders and pulled her into the warmth of his wide chest. “What I want to hear,” he said gently, “is why.”

  Faith pulled away from him. “The reason doesn’t matter.”

  “It does to me.”

  “Why?” She turned on him. “Because you can’t stand the thought of a liar and a cheat giving birth to your child? Isn’t that all you really care about? Your contract? Your child? Your way?” She whirled around and raced to the safety of the bedroom. She slammed the door, then turned the key in the lock.

  Reese stared at the bedroom door. “Faith, open the door.”

  There was no answer. He rattled the knob. The door was locked. He wanted to break it down. He longed to kick the damn door in, grab Faith, throw her down on the floor and make hot, sweet love to her. That was what he wanted to do, what he needed to do to ease the throbbing ache in his groin.

  So why the hell didn’t he do it?

  Because, he reminded himself, there was a better way to get Faith’s attention, an easier way. There was no need to break down a perfectly good door. He had Joy.

  Reese walked to the door of the pink bedroom. Joy was sitting on the floor playing with her dolls. She looked up at him and smiled.

  “Hello. You wanna play dolls with me?” She looked so hopeful, he couldn’t resist.

  He smiled back. “Sure, sprite, why not?”

  Lured by the sound of their laughter, Faith found them playing dolls several hours later.

  Reese was sitting on the floor, his jacket discarded, his brocade vest unbuttoned, a licorice stick clamped in the corner of his mouth. Joy sat across from him at the little table. A black ring surrounded her pink mouth and there were traces of the sticky, black candy on her hands as well. Her two dolls occupied the other chairs.

  At first glance, they appeared to be having an afternoon tea party, but closer inspection revealed a very different kind of entertainment. A deck of cards lay in the center of the miniature table and a pair of cards lay face up in front of each player—Reese, Joy, and the two dolls. A stack of copper pennies stood in front of Joy.

  “Hit me again,” Joy ordered, squealing with delight as Reese flipped another card in her direction. “Hit them, too!” She pointed to the dolls.

  Reese threw back his head and roared with laughter, then dutifully tossed a card in front of each doll.

  “Did we win? Do we get another penny?”

  “Yep, you win again.” Reese shook his head. “Dealer loses. The house pays a penny. You’re quite a cardsharp, sprite.”

  “Pay us a penny.” Joy bobbed up and down in her chair. “We won.”

  Reese stuck his hand in his vest pocket and extracted three more shiny pennies. “Next time, we play for licorice sticks, sprite. If I keep giving you pennies, I’ll be broke.”

  “Are you actually teaching her
to play cards?” Faith asked from the doorway. “To gamble?”

  Reese removed the candy stick from his mouth, broke off a piece from the end, and offered it to Faith. He grinned unashamedly. She sounded so shocked, so outraged. “Well, actually, I’m teaching her how to cheat.”

  “Cheat?” Faith moved closer and snatched the licorice out of his hand.

  “You’re welcome,” Reese drawled. “She’s quite good at cheating.” He handed Joy a penny, then placed one in front of each doll. “She’s greedy, too. Must be a family trait.”

  Faith narrowed her eyes at him and drew in a breath before she realized his brown eyes were sparkling with laughter. He was deliberately trying to make her lose her temper. “Joy can’t read. How can she cheat?”

  “She hasn’t lost a hand, yet.” He raised one eyebrow. “Of course, I’ve dealt all the cards.”

  “Of course,” Faith agreed, fascinated by this side of Reese.

  “And I stacked the deck,” he added.

  “Then how does she win?” Faith eased out of the doorway. She moved to the other side of Reese, sat down on the edge of the bed, and began licking her piece of licorice.

  Reese bit back a groan at the sight of Faith’s tongue circling the stick of candy. He muttered a curse under his breath, damning himself for being such a fool. He shrugged out of his vest and casually draped it across his lap. “By using her feminine wiles.”

  Faith laughed at him. “You can’t be serious.”

  “Oh, but I am.” The look in his brown eyes confirmed the truth of his statement. “When she looks at me with those big gray eyes, I willingly part with my money.” His voice was low, husky, filled with need. He stared at Faith’s mouth. “Must be another family trait.”

  The impact of his words slammed into her. She began to tremble, too stunned by the desire etched in his face to do anything. She simply stared back and waited for him to kiss her.

  “Weese!”

  The moment was lost.

  Reese turned to look at Joy. “What is it, sprite?” He took deep breaths, hoping to restore some of his control. God, that look in Faith’s eyes! The invitation there was a look men dreamed of seeing.

  “Are we gonna play?” Joy demanded his attention.

  Reese removed his watch from his vest pocket, flipped it open, stared at the dial, then looked at Faith. “I think Faith came to tell us it’s time to eat.” He winked at Faith.

  “I came to apologize,” Faith announced.

  “And…?” Reese encouraged, winking at her again.

  “And to tell you it’s…time for Joy to wash up for lunch.”

  “I don’t want to!” Joy stood up and swept the pile of cards and the pennies off the table. “I want to play with Weese!” She glared up at Faith, a sullen expression on her determined, little face.

  “Joy!” Faith was shocked at Joy’s behavior. She rushed to pick up the cards littering the floor.

  “Leave them alone,” Reese said softly. “Joy threw them down. Joy will pick them up. Won’t you, sprite?”

  “No!” She stamped her little foot for emphasis.

  “Sprite, you will pick up the cards and the pennies, won’t you?” Reese tried again. He spoke softly, as before, but there was a definite edge to his words.

  “I won’t!” Joy searched Reese’s face for signs of anger. Finding none, she tried her hand at cajoling. “Faith will pick them up.”

  Faith gasped at the blatant manipulation.

  “Faith didn’t throw them down,” Reese pointed out.

  “Reese, she’s―” Faith attempted to intervene.

  “She’s jealous,” Reese pronounced, “of you. And the time I spend with you. She’s having a temper tantrum because you came in and spoiled her fun.” He looked at Faith, recognizing the anxiety on her face.

  “Please, don’t spank her.”

  “Trust me.” He smiled. “I know how to handle jealous females.” He ushered Faith out of the room, then turned his attention back to Joy.

  Faith hovered anxiously outside the door, listening for the first sounds of trouble. Minutes later, Reese opened the door and stepped out.

  “What happened?”

  “I explained the terms. Joy will stay in her room until she picks up the cards and pennies and apologizes for her behavior. No lunch, no dolls”―he held up Joy’s companions―“and no conversation.”

  “Well?”

  “We’re at a standoff,” Reese admitted, tossing the dolls into a chair. “She’s stubborn. She’s thinking over my offer. She’s cautious, too. Must be another―”

  “Family trait,” Faith confirmed.

  She smiled up at him, at the perfectly sculpted features, at the shining brown eyes. The realization stunned her. Her heart, full to overflowing, pounded in her chest. Somewhere, between Washington and Chicago, she had fallen in love with Reese Jordan.

  “About those family traits…” Reese took Faith’s arm and led her toward the sofa. “I think we ought to discuss a few of them.”

  “What about lunch?” There was a funny little catch in her voice, an almost breathless quality. He noticed it right away.

  He nudged her back onto the sofa. “Forget lunch,” he ordered. “This is more important.”

  “What?”

  Reese studied her face. That look was back in her eyes. And this time he wasn’t going to lose his opportunity.

  He bent his head.

  She met him halfway.

  She closed her eyes just seconds before she felt his mouth―cool, firm, demanding, tasting of desire.

  Her lips parted easily, allowing his tongue access to explore.

  Reese’s mouth claimed hers hungrily. She was warm, welcoming, and impossibly sweet. Like licorice.

  Chapter Sixteen

  The sun couldn’t set fast enough to suit Reese. The tension hung in the air like a stale odor, so thick you could smell it, taste it. But there was a subtle difference, because now it was spiced with anticipation, with the knowledge of what was to come. And if heated looks, smoldering eyes, moist lips, and pounding hearts were anything to go by, this promised to be an exciting night.

  He turned his chair around to face the window. Was it his imagination, or was the sun a little lower on the horizon? He sighed, pulled out his watch, and glanced at it. There was still an hour or so of daylight left to endure. He turned back to his desk and the stack of work awaiting his attention.

  Reese smiled when he found the copy of the telegram from David. It had been waiting for him at the telegraph office in Chicago. David hadn’t been able to ferret out any information on Champ Collins. Reese could just imagine David’s frustration.

  He wondered suddenly if he shouldn’t delay sending a reply calling off the search. David had enjoyed himself tremendously during the contract negotiations. Maybe he should let his cousin suffer a little longer or, better yet, let David approach the aunts. It might be interesting to see what story they concocted.

  Champ Collins, Reese thought, a product of Faith’s evasions and his own extremely vivid imagination. He had made a fool of himself over a figment of his own imagination. And Faith had let him. She would have to be punished for that omission.

  Reese pushed the paperwork aside and turned his chair back to the window. He listened to the splashing in the washroom as Faith supervised Joy’s bath. The little tyrant had finally emerged from her room an hour or so ago with tears in her eyes and words of apology on her lips.

  Faith had fed her an early supper and plopped her into the bathtub. It had been a long, tiring day for Joy, and as soon as she was clean and dry, he planned to tuck her into bed. He hoped to do the same to her older sister soon afterward.

  The kissing session they’d shared before lunch hadn’t done anything to ease the throbbing in his groin.

  “Hello, Weese.”

  Reese turned his chair back around. Faith stood beside Joy in the doorway of the washroom. Joy’s long blond hair was wrapped in a towel. She shivered in the cool a
ir and huddled closer to Faith.

  Reese got up from his chair and poured another scuttle of coal in the stove.

  “She slipped in the tub and got her hair wet,” Faith explained, “so I washed it.” She wet her lips nervously and looked at Reese. “It shouldn’t take too long to dry if I sit with her in front of the fire and brush it.”

  “Take your time.” Reese smiled at Faith. He could tell she was as anxious as he was. “The sun hasn’t gone down yet.” He pulled a wing chair closer to the stove and sat down. “Come here, sprite. I’ll tell you a bedtime story while Faith combs out your tangles.”

  Joy let go of Faith’s hand and ran to Reese. She settled herself into his lap, resting her head against his chest. “Are you still mad at me, Weese?”

  Reese’s expression was infinitely patient and tender.

  Faith caught her breath at the serenity of the little domestic scene.

  “I was never mad at you, sprite.” He tilted Joy’s face up to look at him so she could see for herself. “I was disappointed in you. There’s a difference.”

  “Oh.” Joy snuggled up against his hard frame.

  Faith pulled the leather footstool next to the chair. She removed the towel and painstakingly worked the wide-toothed comb through Joy’s wet hair.

  Reese’s deep voice filled the silence as he related the story of how the grizzly bear lost his tail. Joy listened, awed by the legend. Faith, too, was entranced by the ancient story as she combed Joy’s hair in front of the warm stove. Joy stuck her thumb in her mouth and toyed with a button on Reese’s shirt.

  Reese finished his story. He waited patiently for some reaction from his audience, but Joy’s eyelids had closed. She slept peacefully, her small face pressed against his white linen shirt.

  Faith put down the comb and quickly braided the shiny blond strands.

  “It’s so soft and silky.” Reese touched Joy’s hair. “It’s a shame you have to braid it.” He was touching Joy’s blond hair, but his gaze was pinned on Faith’s braided coronet.

  She swallowed nervously. “It tangles so.”

  “It’s still a shame.” He held her gaze a second longer.

  Faith reached for Joy. “I’ll take her. I’ve already turned the covers down.”

  “No.” He maneuvered out of the chair, careful not to wake the sleeping child, “Let me.” He smiled down at Joy. “I’d like to tuck her in.”

  Faith hesitated, withholding permission, reluctant to forfeit her right to the privilege. “If you really want to…”