by Dahlia Rose
Chance for a Lifetime
Copyright © August 2010, Dahlia Rose
Cover art by Amira Press © August 2010
Amira Press
Charlotte, NC 28227
www.amirapress.com
ISBN: 978-1-936279-40-1
No part of this e-book may be reproduced or shared by any electronic or mechanical means, including but not limited to printing, file sharing, and e-mail, without prior written permission from Amira Press.
Dedication
Every girl needs a cowboy. When you find one, rope him,
ride him, brand him, and make him yours!
Hugs and Cheesecake Dahlia
Prologue
Win A Date With A Super Model
Chance looked at the title on the website and blanched. He could see Harvey in his head. His friend would be grinning like a loon while he typed furiously. Harvey had gone as far as to attach a picture of Chance who was not only his boss but his best friend as well. Harvey had been boss hand on the ranch Chance owned for the past eleven years. In that time he had seen a few women who lived in town come and go, but none of them stayed. That didn’t give him the right to make decisions on Chance’s love life. He was from a small town, but there was much more to him, and none of these women saw that. Most of them wanted to be Suzie homemaker. He knew what they saw—the ranch and his wallet—and instantly they wanted four kids and to bake pies.
It’s not like I don’t want kids in the future, Chance thought. But there had to be much more to the woman he would spend his rest of his life with. Harvey had good intentions. He always said that Chance needed someone to match him in wit and intellect. Chance had moved back to Montana when his father died and took over the ranch, making it one of the biggest and richest cattle competitors in the state. Understandably, he spent so much time working, and yet he knew that there were other things in life. Like a hot supermodel, no I don’t think so! Chance felt his anger surge, and it was directed at Harvey.
“What did you do?” Chance roared.
It was four weeks later, after Harvey had entered him into a completion without his knowledge. His friend sat in the big kitchen at the table and watched as Chance re-read the email he printed out. Chance mumbled under his breath and paced the stone tiled kitchen. His formidable voice might scare the other ranch hands but to Harvey it meant little. Their friendship lasted since childhood, and he always said Chance’s bark was worse than his bite. It amazed him how Harvey sat there casually taking sips from his coffee cup. He looked at Harvey and then back to the email again before he walked over and waved it in front of Harvey’s face.
“What did you do to me?” Chance asked again.
“I didn’t know you were deaf, buddy. I told you already,” Harvey said calmly. “I’ll repeat it slowly. I entered you in a competition, and you won.”
“But I don’t want to win. I didn’t even enter!”
“That’s why I entered for you,” Harvey replied. “You’re welcome by the way.”
“I’m not thanking you!” Chance said amazed. He wanted to commit murder on his friend but knew he would lose a great head ranch hand. “I’m not going. You go since you filled out the damn form.”
“They are not expecting me. They are expecting Chance Niven, rancher and cowboy.”
Chance slapped the email down on the table. “Well they are going to be waiting a hell of a long time.”
“What could it hurt, Chance? Hmm? The least is you get out of Montana and into New York City. I know you miss it in a way,” Harvey cajoled.
“No, I don’t. I hated that damn city. I hated the suit and the kind of law they practiced. I’m a country boy through and through. Being in New York for five years taught me that.”
“Whatever, still couldn’t hurt you to go get out for a bit,” Harvey replied.
“It could hurt because I’m going to be set up with some prissy, uppity thing who wants to smile for the camera all night.” Chance explained. He had dated a few models in his time, and the experience left a bitter taste in his mouth. “You’re right, Harvey. I lived there, and I dated a few of those models. They forget to breathe when they see a mirror.”
Harvey laughed. “It can’t be that bad. Do it for me. Do it for the guys here. Give us a break from your grouchy face.”
“I am not grouchy,” Chance grumbled. “Mildly irritable, maybe, and it’s because of you.”
“Look you have one date with her, and then take a few days to catch up with old friends or whatever.”
“I have no old friends.”
“You haven’t been out of this state since you moved back after your dad died. It’s been three years, and going to buy cattle does not count,” Harvey pointed out.
They stared at each other silently for a few moments.
“You’re not going to let me say no without bothering the hell outta me are you, Harvey?” Chance asked finally.
Harvey sat back in the chair. “Nope.”
“Fine I’ll go, but you’re making dinner tonight. With Mrs. Wright gone with her broken leg, we are on our own.” He snatched the email off the table.
Harvey laughed while he got up and went to the freezer. He pulled out two pans of lasagna and frozen biscuits. Chance’s irritation rose to new levels when Harvey gave him a cocky look.
“You forget, Mrs. Wright always had extra meals prepared in the freezer in case of emergencies. Dinner will be a breeze. Thanks for the punishment.” Harvey grinned.
Chance flipped him off and went through the house grumbling about stupid friends who poked their nose in his business and wondering if he could tie him to one of the bulls in the corral. He was going to New York, and instead of excitement about a trip, he felt his stress level begin to rise, and it was reminiscent of the five years he lived there.
Chapter One
Chance looked out of the window as the New York City skyline came into view. The scene from the sky was amazing, and it masked the city well. No one would expect the alleys, the garbage, and throngs of people that were beneath such a picturesque surface. His anxiety began to build while the airplane descended. Harvey felt he missed the city. He actually didn’t. His law practice was fulfilling, yes, but the stress of the city had begun to grate on his nerves. Guilty clients who expected you to prove them innocent. Then there was the innocent victims sitting across the room being screwed out of money.
He got sick of it and actually preferred what he did now, running Second Chances Ranch and helping out some of the local residents in town with legal trouble. The ranch was originally named after him. Chance smiled when he recalled the story he was told long ago. His mother and father always wanted kids and tried everything to have one. Finally, when they gave up, his mother Diane had gotten pregnant just when his father had bought the ranch. They considered it a sign, and Gerald Niven named the ranch Second Chance, and he got the same name a few months later when he was born.
It was nine o’ clock when he walked through the terminal. He was thinking of way to get back at Harvey. Liniment oil in his boxer shorts? Chance winced at the thought. Poor man wouldn’t be able to walk for a week. No, that was too harsh. He was so engrossed with this thought, he didn’t see the crowd of people until the flash of a camera almost blinded him. Microphones were shoved in his face, and questions were yelled out from the reporters that descended on him like a pack of locusts.
“How does it feel to have a date with Desiree Paget?” one voice hollered.
“Who… wait I dunno,” Chance replied.
“You were picked from thousands, and you don’t know. Isn’t there TV where you’re from?” one reporter teased, and the rest of them laughed.
“You know what, I’m generally working instead of chasing do
wn models as a job.” Chance gave the surly response, “Get out of my way.”
The reporter kept up his insistence. “Working as what a cow puncher? Is the big city light amazing to you?”
This time when Chance put a cold stare on the man. He took off his black Stetson and stepped forward. The reporter stepped back and visibly swallowed.
“Listen you, I run one of the richest ranches in Montana. I could take your rinky-dink apartment on the east side and fit in into the cow barn. I also used to be a lawyer here in the city, and I know how to sue street paparazzi scum like you. So go away.”
He tried to push through the crowd, but they still kept coming. He was about to punch one of them and really give them a story. “Move now!” he yelled and they stepped back.
A limo man stood calmly behind the crowd of people holding a sign with Chance’s name on it. He opened the door, and Chance slid into the seat with a sigh of relief. The chauffeur got into the stretch limo and glanced back at him. “Sir, I’m to take you to the hotel and let you go upstairs and get changed before you head off to your date with Ms. Paget. Her manager who ran the contest will be waiting for you there at the restaurant.”
“Wait, it’s tonight? I just took a long flight from Montana to New York. Can’t they do this tomorrow or something? I just want to go to bed,” Chance said.
The driver gave him a sympathetic smile. “Sorry, sir, but my orders are my orders.”
“No more sir. Call me Chance.” He sighed. “Whatever man, I would rather be hanging out with you, grabbing a beer, than sitting in some restaurant with some nonsensical model.”
“Okay, Chance it is. I’m Earl.” The driver pulled away from the curb. “Why did you enter then?”
“I didn’t. I have my friend Harvey to thank for this mess,” Chance explained.
“I am sure you repaid him in kind,” Earl said amused.
“Oh he is going to get his,” Chance muttered. “Where am I supposed to meet Ms Paget?”
“You’ll be dining at the exclusive Maximillian’s restaurant,” Earl called out at he drove.
Chance had heard of the restaurant and ate there a few times when he worked in the city. They were sparing no expense for this farce. He wondered why this model Desiree Paget said yes to this mayhem. Maybe she was losing her popularity with the designers and she was trying to regain it. He didn’t know. He honestly didn’t care why she was doing it. He would get this pretend date over with and head back to his room and sleep. Which I would love to do right now.
They booked him a room at the swanky Ritz hotel in the middle of Manhattan, and soon he was in his room on the twelfth floor looking longingly at the bed. Instead Chance took a shower hoping it would revitalize him. He wore his usual blue jeans, but instead of a T-shirt, he put on a black dress shirt and even took the time to wipe his boots clean. He donned his Stetson without even looking at the mirror to see if he looked okay. He honestly didn’t give a hoot what she thought of him. He was going to eat a big steak and then head back to his hotel, sleep a hot twelve hours straight, and catch the next flight out.
He got in the limo and put his hat on the seat next to him. Earl looked in the window as he closed the door. “Ready to go, Chance?”
“Anyway I could convince you to let me ditch this and pretend you never saw me?” Chance asked.
“I’d love to but it would mean my head on a platter,” Earl replied.
“Yeah, I guess so. Don’t want you headless and all.”
The limousine pulled away from the curb and merged in with New York traffic. Chance looked out as the streets passed by, the lights, and the people walking around even though it was after nine at night. In Sweet Water Montana, the sidewalks were rolled up and the stores closed at six o’ clock sharp. Now he was back in the city that never sleeps, and he wished he could go back to the where you could watch a thunderstorm roll in across the mountain.
“We’re here, Chance. Brace yourself. The photo hounds are out,” Earl called back to where he was sitting.
Chance looked out the other window and saw the throng of photographers rushing forward. He gritted his teeth in irritation and made a metal vow to again get back at Harvey. When the car stopped at the curb, Earl fought his way through the people who were there to open Chance’s door. When he stepped out and put his hat on his head, he heard someone whistle from the crowd.
“If it ain’t the cowboy ready to give New York a down home try.” It was the condescending mocking tone of the camera man from the airport earlier.
God knows what he meant, but being tired and aggravated, Chance had had enough of him. When he passed by the irritating bald man with a camera, he gave a side sweep of his foot and tripped the man easily. When the irritating man fell, Chance stepped over him and did not even look back as he walked into the restaurant.
Standing by the door was a tall lean woman with a pinched face. She was smoking a cigarette from lips painted bright read. When he walked up, she looked him up and down a few times. Chance felt like the prize bull on the selling block under her scrutiny. He hoped and sent prayers up to heaven that she was not the model Desiree Paget.
“Well they need to send more like you to the big city,” she said with a nasally voice. “Do they all look like you in Montana? I want to order one.”
Chance took his hat off and tried to be pleasant. “You might have to take a trip and find out for yourself, ma’am.”
She laughed and slapped his chest. “I might do that.”
“Are you Ms. Paget?” Chance asked.
“Why you are a flatterer, but no I am her manager Helen. She is over there. Follow me.” Helen walked through the restaurant talking as she went. “Look out the window a lot and smile and talk animatedly. We want good pictures, okay cowboy?”
“I think I can manage being a trained monkey for an hour or two,” Chance answered.
Helen laughed again. “And here she is, Desiree Paget meet…..” She looked at him. “What’s your name again, cowboy?”
“Chance Niven,” he replied.
When Helen moved away. Chance could have sworn he lost the function of speech when he saw the ebony beauty that sat before him. Desiree Paget was strikingly beautiful. She had long straight black hair that hung below sexy chocolate shoulders. Her skin reflected the sensual lighted ambiance of the room. Her eyes were big and shaped like almonds. The soft chocolate color drew him into their depths. Her sexy full mouth curved in a smile, and he wanted to lick the dark ruby lipstick away to find the real taste of her lips.
She held out her hand, and he took it silently. “Chance, nice to meet you,” she said.
Her voice was like fine bourbon when you swallowed it warm. Husky, smooth, and sexy. He couldn’t help but wonder what she would sound like when she was hot, wet, and under him. Whoa, Chance, hold your horses. You are heading home tomorrow, and she’s not your type, remember?
He shook her hand easily. “Ms. Paget, pleasure to meet you as well.”
She laughed. “You had better call me Desiree since we are eating together.”
Chance slid into his seat and put his hat on the table next to the window. A camera flash blinded him for a minute, and he gritted his teeth as his irritation rose once more.
“You don’t like the cameras, do you?” Desiree said.
He smiled at her. “I don’t see how you do it. I tripped one of them when I was coming inside.”
“On purpose?” she asked.
Chance gave her a wicked grin. “Maybe. I’m a country boy. I don’t know where to put my feet sometimes.”
Desiree laughed out loud, a sound that reminded Chance of the babbling brooks that were all over his property. “You just made my night by telling me that. I hope it was the obnoxious balding one.”
“The very same one.”
She laughed again. “Chance, you are now my very favorite person.”
He sat back in his chair casually and had to admit her saying that gave him a warm feeling. “I’m glad to he
ar it.”
The waiter came over to take their wine order, and her manager Helen beat him to the table. “How’s it going? Are you getting along? You need to smile more, Desiree. I heard one of the paparazzi say you don’t look like you are enjoying yourself. We don’t want the mew rags saying you’re uptight. And Chance, take her hand once in awhile, make it sexy.”
“Lady, I don’t need you to tell me how to date a woman,” Chance snapped. “Maybe she is not comfortable being pawed at for picture space in some magazine. Now go away, and let us have dinner. Don’t come back.”
Helen opened her mouth to speak, but Chance cut her off. “I said go now.” He turned to the waiter effectively dismissing Helen. “We’ll have a glass of your best merlot for the lady, and I want a beer, Michelob Amber Bach.”
The waiter scurried away to get their drinks while Helen the manager stalked off.
“I don’t think I have ever heard anyone talk to Helen like that,” Desiree commented.
“Someone should every now and again. She seems like she can be a dictator,” Chance replied.
“You would not believe it but she is a hell of a manager.” Desiree sighed.
The waiter came back with their drinks and took their food order. It was simple enough. Desiree wanted the pan-seared tuna with the vegetable medley on the side, while Chance ordered a steak medium rare with fully loaded baked potato.
“Do you like your life, the cameras, the glitz, everyone knowing everything about you from what color shoes you had on to what you eat?” he asked.
She shrugged. “It’s my life. I’ve been in the spotlight since I was fourteen years old.”
“That’s not what I asked. I asked if you like it.”
She looked at him with those brown eyes that were wide and filled with emotion. “It’s getting kind of old. I’m up at five, and sometimes I don’t get to bed until midnight. I’m expected to shine and glamorize all the time when all I want to do is sit at home, watch TV, and sleep. Openings, red carpets, clubs, I am exhausted.” She smiled shyly at him. “I don’t know why I am telling you all of this.”
