Somehow Chance had seen that.
Take a chance.
That weekend in Santa Barbara, she’d taken a huge risk. She hadn’t wanted to admit it at the time, but she’d opened her heart to Chance only to slam it shut again when he’d left with hardly a moment’s notice. And then after the news reports of his death, well, she’d pretty much thrown away the key.
The anniversary party was still going strong—light, laughter and music drifting over to the path that led to the small cottage. She hugged her arms over her chest, wishing she’d thought to wear a sweater. The nighttime temperature would be considered balmy by most people, but Alexa was used to the warmth of Southern California.
The tiny cottage looked even more magical in the faint moonlight, and was the last place she could picture Chance living. But this was only temporary. A place for him to recover before he moved on. She didn’t even know if he had a permanent residence.
Pushing the troubling thought aside, Alexa hurried up the front steps and knocked on the door. She listened for movement inside but couldn’t hear anything over the pounding going on inside her own chest.
Maybe he hadn’t come back to the cottage, but if he was in the same shape as Griffin after the fight, she couldn’t imagine where else he would want to go.
“Chance?” she called out when he didn’t answer after knocking a second time.
Alexa was ready to turn back when she heard a crash from inside. “Chance!”
Heart pounding in her throat, she grabbed the door handle, surprised when the cool metal turned in her hand. She gasped when the door was suddenly pulled open from the inside, jerking her forward and straight into Chance’s chest.
His naked, damp chest...
The cottage was dark with only a faint glow coming from the front porch. Swallowing hard, her other senses were overwhelmed by his nearness, the feeling of warm skin over masculine muscles and the scent of soap and shampoo. And despite the desire thrumming through her veins, she couldn’t help giving a small laugh.
“What?”
She heard the scowl in his voice as his arms dropped away and he stepped back.
“Lavender.”
“What?”
“You smell like lavender.”
Chance swore. “I ran out of the soap I brought with me and grabbed whatever my sister had.”
The unexpected moment eased some of the tension tightening her chest, and Alexa took her first deep breath since...she found out she was pregnant, it seemed.
“Are you okay? I thought I heard something fall?”
“This place is like a damn china shop. I can’t turn around in here without breaking something.”
Her heart stuttered as Chance lifted an arm, but instead of reaching for her, he flicked on the wall switch over her shoulder. Griffin’s bruises should have prepared her, but she still cringed at the first sight of Chance. The black eye. The swollen jaw.
But try as she might, she couldn’t keep her eyes focused on his face. Her gaze lowered to the broad shoulders, muscled arms, the dusting of dark hair over his well-honed chest and abs. The weight Chance had lost since the accident only served to further define every masculine ridge. As if the accident had somehow pared down the man she’d met into this hardened, stark version in front of her.
She took in the drawstring gray cotton shorts, somewhat relieved to realize he hadn’t answered the door totally in the buff, and then gasped again when she saw his leg.
“The scars aren’t exactly pretty, I know,” he said as he turned away from her.
“No, it’s not that. It’s—” Alexa truthfully was horrified by the violent reminders of what he’d gone through. What he’d lived through... But that wasn’t what had her grasping his arm. “You need to sit down. Your knee’s totally swollen. You should probably see a doctor to make sure—”
“No, no doctors.” Despite the implacable tone of his voice, Chance still allowed Alexa to lead him to the feminine floral print couch. “I’ve seen enough doctors to last me a lifetime.”
“Well, maybe you’ll think about that before you get in another ill-advised fistfight. For someone so determined to move on, you certainly aren’t making things easy on yourself.”
Chance muttered something that almost sounded like I’m not the only one, but Alexa couldn’t be sure she’d heard him right.
She reached for a lacy pillow, intending to use it to prop up his leg on the steamer trunk coffee table in front of him, but he caught her wrist. “I was coming to see you.” Rolling his eyes, he added, “Both times.”
“What?”
“I was coming to see you when Griffin and I got in the fight and just now. I was getting cleaned up so I could come see you without looking like a—”
“A bloody, beat-up mess?”
“Hey, your good friend looks as bad as I do.”
Alexa shook her head at what was an almost exact repetition of what Griffin had said. “Because that’s what’s important here.”
“You’re what’s important here,” Chance vowed, sending a small thrill through her and his thumb stroked the inside of her wrist. “You and the baby.”
Of course. Wasn’t that what she had told herself earlier? So she had no reason to feel somehow disappointed that Chance’s priorities were exactly where they should be. “Right. The baby.” Pulling away from his gentle grasp, she waved her hand toward the doorway leading to the dining room. “I’ll go get you an ice pack. The kitchen’s...”
Chance nodded. “It’s that way.”
When he started to push up from the couch, Alexa demanded, “What are you doing?”
“I’m getting dressed. We need to talk.”
As if they’d end up doing something else otherwise. Which, considering the difficulty Alexa was having keeping her eyes from straying, might be more of a possibility than she dared to admit... “Good—good idea. I’ll, um, be back with the ice pack.”
She didn’t find an ice pack in the tiny kitchen, but she did spend a good five minutes with her head in the freezer anyway. She pressed a bag of frozen corn to her forehead, foolishly hoping that might cool her heated thoughts as she glanced around.
The kitchen was decorated with the same shabby chic touch as the living room, with white cabinets, an old-fashioned cobalt blue tile countertop and delicate tea saucers decorating the soffit.
Spotting an amber bottle of pills near the sink, Alexa lowered the bag of corn. The prescription was for pain meds as she’d hoped, but judging by the full bottle, Chance hadn’t taken any of them. As hard as he was pushing himself with runs on the beach, appointments with physical therapy—oh, and not to mention, ridiculous fights—she couldn’t believe he hadn’t needed the pills.
Walking back into the tiny living room, Alexa breathed a small sigh of relief to see Chance sprawled against the corner of the couch fully dressed. If only seeing him so relaxed didn’t pose a different temptation. His blue-and-gray flannel pajama bottoms and faded T-shirt looked so soft, she wanted nothing more than to cuddle up next to him. To have his arms around her as she rested her head against his chest as they talked about their hopes and dreams for their baby’s future.
So simple, and yet so complicated...
She placed the frozen-vegetable bag on his knee before holding out a bottle of water and two of the pills. But Chance was already shaking his head. “I can’t take them. They make me...loopy.”
“Loopy?”
“Yeah, like a teenager with his first beer buzz. I never know what I’ll do or say or... So just forget the pain meds.”
“Oh, wow, who would have thought? Chance McClaren, Mr. Live For The Moment, is a control freak.”
“That’s not true.”
“Then take the meds. As long as you take them as prescribed, you’ll be okay.”
She held his glare for at least a minute, and sh
e could only imagine how much pain he had to be in to grudgingly accept the pills she held out to him. He downed the water, and she tried not to notice how the muscles in his neck worked as he swallowed. Tried not to remember how she’d kissed that very spot as he lowered her to the hotel-room bed for the first time.
“Are you feeling okay?”
Alexa blinked. She was feeling more than a little overheated, but could Chance actually see those thoughts written on her face?
“You know, morning sickness or whatever?”
“Oh, that. No, not anymore.” Perching on the edge of the sofa cushions, she added, “I get tired easily, and I’m starving half the time, but I feel fine.”
“And the baby’s healthy?”
A hint of vulnerability in his blue eyes had Alexa’s heart softening. “The baby’s fine.”
“I wish you would have told me sooner.”
“Chance...”
“I—I’m trying to understand why you didn’t, but seeing you here with Griffin... I’ve acted like a total ass.”
“I told you Griffin’s just a friend.”
“A friend you were thinking of marrying.”
“Yes.”
“Are you still?” The plastic bottle crackled as Chance’s fingers flexed.
“Still what?”
“Still thinking?”
“No, Griffin’s leaving in the morning.”
“Can’t say I’ll be sorry to see the guy go.”
Alexa opened her mouth to argue only to stop. How would she have felt if she’d arrived in Clearville to find Chance almost engaged? Even to a woman he considered just a friend? Simply imagining a beautiful woman on Chance’s arm had jealousy digging deep.
“I am sorry. I should have been up-front about Griffin and the baby from the start. It’s just that seeing you here was such a shock especially after—”
“Those damn news reports.” Chance sighed as he dropped his head back against the cushion. Leading Alexa to stare at that spot on his throat once more...
Jerking her gaze away, she clasped her hands between her knees. “I honestly did try to get ahold of you once I found out I was pregnant.”
“Before the bombing.”
“Yes.”
“But not after.”
“No,” she admitted. “After that first report, I didn’t know what to think, how to feel. I was just starting to get used to the idea of being pregnant, and then I had to face the thought of raising a child on my own.”
“And after?” he pressed.
“And after...after I’d read that you were alive, that your condition was improving, I didn’t know what to believe. What if those reports were wrong, too?”
Pushing back against the couch cushions, he sat forward as he met her gaze. “I’m not going to lie. My job comes with risks, but life comes with risks. It’s not as dangerous as you might think.”
“The scars on your knee tell a different story.” She spoke again when he would have protested. “And it’s more than a job. You’re willing to go where not every journalist will go and tell the stories that not every journalist will tell.”
Truthfully, Alexa had been drawn to his work before she’d been drawn to the man himself. The night of the charity event, she’d been so impressed that she’d spoken to an acquaintance of her grandmother’s, Roslynn St. Clare, about a possible showing for the talented Chance McClaren.
Knowing Chance as she did now, Alexa realized that a gallery showing filled with wealthy patrons and patronizing critics was hardly his style. He preferred to stay on the front line and let his work speak for itself.
“You have a true calling, and I admire that.”
“You admire me, and yet you think I’m the type of man who wouldn’t want to know he had a child, who wouldn’t take responsibility.”
Alexa squeezed her hands tighter together. Maybe that was what she was afraid of. Not that Chance would walk away from their child, but that he would stay. Grimly determined and duty bound to do the right thing. She didn’t know which was worse—a father who was never around or one who was there but wanted to be somewhere else.
“A child should be more than a responsibility. A child needs to know he or she is wanted, loved... What?” she demanded when she noticed him studying her with a sympathetic expression on his face.
“Just thinking of something Griffin said,” he murmured.
Alexa raised an eyebrow. “You mean the two of you actually talked and didn’t just start pummeling each other?”
“We did a little of both.”
And he clearly wasn’t going to tell her what Griffin had said. Which, knowing her friend, could have been just about anything.
Chance leaned his head back again, and Alexa could see some of the tension draining from his body as exhaustion and the pain pills started to take over. “I should go. You need to rest.”
She settled her hands against the cushions, ready to push to her feet, but without opening his eyes, Chance reached out and caught her wrist. “Stay,” he encouraged.
Her heart suddenly pounding in her throat, Alexa swallowed. Heat radiated from the simple touch of his skin against hers, tiny flames of memory licking to life in its wake.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea. You should rest.”
Chance’s eyes opened as he leaned toward her, his movements languid and purposeful at the same time. “I haven’t had a good night’s sleep since the last time you were in my bed. I can’t close my eyes without imagining you there.”
Alexa stared at him, dumbfounded. He’d thought about her while he was away? Imagined her by his side, even while they were apart? Those same thoughts, memories, desires haunted her dreams, but to think Chance had felt the same way, felt that same longing...
“Chance.” His name was a breathless gasp of air as he rose above her and pulled her to her feet. Her legs trembled, and Alexa knew she should leave before it was too late.
But it had been too late from the first time she’d spotted him from across the ballroom. When he’d caught her very much in the act of doing something a Mayhew did not do—interfering with one of her grandmother’s biggest donors by diverting the inebriated man’s unwanted attention from a young female server.
And Chance McClaren had been watching her all along. But instead of seeing disappointment or disapproval in his gaze, his blue eyes had glowed with amusement and admiration.
But that was then. This was now. So much had changed and yet one thing hadn’t changed at all. She wanted him to kiss her now as desperately as she had then.
“Alexa. Lexi.” The nickname sent shivers down her spine. To the rest of the world, she was Alexa Mayhew. Only Chance called her Lexi. Only Chance...
Her name was still on his lips when he claimed hers in a kiss, and she buried her fingers in his hair as he pulled her body tight to his.
They were a perfect fit, the muscled strength of one of his thighs between the softness of hers, the curves of her breasts against the wide plane of his chest, the subtle roundness of her belly cradled by his concave stomach.
Their baby cradled between them.
Startled by the thought, Alexa jerked back. Her chest heaving as she gasped for much-needed breath, she stuttered, “That’s not—We can’t—” Swallowing against the arousal she saw reflected in Chance’s taut expression, she said, “This is a bad idea.”
He stared at her for a long moment before shocking her with a laugh. His white teeth flashed in the first genuine smile she’d seen since she arrived. “That’s what you said in Santa Barbara, too.”
“Yes, well, this time I mean it.”
Her pulse quickened as he stepped forward and erased the hard-fought distance she’d placed between them. “Bad ideas. Ask anyone, I’m full of ’em.”
For a brief moment a shadow crossed his features before his
expression cleared. Reaching up, he touched the butterfly hairpin in her hair. “My good-luck charm,” he murmured.
Alexa swallowed. Though a still-smoldering desire lingered in his eyes, his gaze was slightly unfocused, as well. “You really weren’t kidding about the effect pain meds have on you, were you?”
His half smile was teasing, sexy and, yes, the slightest bit loopy. “Told ya.”
Ignoring the disappointment coursing through her, she said, “Which is why you need to go to bed. Alone,” she stressed, reminding herself as much as Chance. The chemistry, the attraction, the desire to feel his body pressed against hers once more had her resolve trembling right along with her suddenly rubbery legs.
“Not like I can get you more pregnant.”
No, no danger there. But the risk that she’d fall even further for him? That was a very real—and very frightening—possibility. “Yes, well, as romantic a proposition as that is, I’m still not sleeping with you.”
He gave a sigh heavy enough to stir the hair at her temple, but allowed her to guide him down the hall. With an arm draped over her shoulders, he leaned on her enough for Alexa to wonder if he really had done further damage to his leg. But when he pulled her tighter to his side and pressed a kiss against the top of her head, she wasn’t sure if she was holding him up or if he was simply holding her.
With the faint glow from the living room, Alexa had the impression of a very girlie bedroom, complete with canopied lace-trimmed bed. Chance was so not the typical Sleeping Beauty and yet...“Get some sleep.”
But before Alexa realized what he planned, he fell back on the mattress...taking her right with him.
“Chance!” Her protest was cut short as she landed on top of him with an inelegant grunt. “What are you doing?”
Rolling with her on the bed, he pinned her to the mattress with a firm arm wrapped around her waist and warm, heavy thigh between her legs. Alexa sank into soft, wildflower-scented sheets, a feminine contrast to Chance’s hard, masculine body above hers.
How to Be a Blissful Bride Page 8
