Cinderella and the Playboy / The Texan's Happily-Ever-After (8 page)

“Hey.” He looked up when she entered, his eyes lighting up as he swept her from head to toe and back again.

“Hi.” Suddenly self-conscious under his intent
stare, she glanced down. “I'm glad your mother left her slacks and top here. Are you sure she won't mind my borrowing them?”

“I'm positive,” he told her, abandoning the paper on the counter. He reached her in two long strides and wrapped her close, pressing a quick, hard kiss against her mouth. When he lifted his lips from hers, his eyes were molten. “And if we don't leave the house right now, I'm going to carry you back upstairs. Come on. Let's feed you. You're going to need energy when we get home.”

He released her, threaded her fingers through his, and tugged her after him toward the front door.

“Come on, Butch.”

The big dog obeyed Chance's command with enthusiasm, pushing past them to race down the hall and wait just inside the front door.

Chance took a leash from a peg on the antique coatrack and clipped it onto Butch's collar, then pulled open the heavy oak door.

Jennifer stepped outside, relishing the balmy air and the quick warmth of sunlight on her bare forearms.

Chance locked the door behind them, pocketing the keys before catching Jennifer's hand in his, and with Butch leading the way at the end of the leash, they set off down the street.

“I love your neighborhood,” Jennifer told him, taking in the neat facades of town houses and bright flowers filling window boxes. She tilted her face up and spring sunshine warmed her cheeks, filtered through tree leaves.

“Good morning.”

The friendly greeting drew Jennifer's attention and she smiled hello at the young couple passing by, pushing a stroller with a little boy that babbled excitedly, hands outstretched to Butch.

“Good morning.” Chance nodded at the couple, letting the little boy pat Butch on the nose, then pulling the big dog away before he could lick the toddler's face.

“Who was that?” Jennifer asked, curious.

“The Carmichaels.” Chance expertly steered Butch around a trio of giggling schoolgirls in jeans and sandals walking toward them, three abreast on the sidewalk. “They moved into the house two doors down from me just before their little boy was born. I met them when I was out walking Butch.”

“Butch seems to be a great ice breaker,” Jennifer commented. “You must meet a lot of people when they stop to pet him.”

“Yeah, I do.” He grinned at her and tugged her nearer, releasing her hand to sling an arm over her
shoulder and tuck her close. Their hips bumped companionably as they walked. “Nobody can resist a big, friendly dog.”

Jennifer privately thought it was probably the combination of Butch's friendliness and Chance's charm.

“Here we are.” Chance drew Jennifer to a halt outside a small restaurant. “Do you mind sitting outside? I can't take Butch inside.”

He nodded at the area to their right. Several round wrought-iron tables with colorful red and white umbrellas shading their chairs were clustered along the front of the café, the uneven line two tables deep. Just then a patron exited, the café's open door releasing a waft of aroma that was mouthwatering.

“Yes, let's.” Jennifer drew in a deep breath. “It smells fabulous. I can't believe anyone has the willpower to walk by and not stop to eat.”

Chance bent to brush his lips against her ear. “The food's great but it doesn't taste as good as you.”

Jennifer shivered with awareness and felt her skin warm.

His arm tightened in a brief hug before he released her and pulled out a chair at an empty table at one end of the row.

He knotted Butch's leash around the arm of a chair. “Stay,” he told him as he dropped into the seat.

Butch obligingly lay down between Chance and Jennifer, technically outside the dining area. Ears perked, eyes alight with interest, he watched the diners at the neighboring tables.

The cute young waitress who took their order clearly adored Chance.

“You have another admirer,” Jennifer teased as the teenager disappeared into the restaurant.

“Carrie?” he asked. When Jennifer nodded, he grinned at her. “Nah, I'm helping her brother study for his SATs, that's all. He's a bright kid but the family doesn't have the money to send him to a top-notch med school. If he scores high on the SAT, he'll have a better shot at scholarships.”

“What a lovely thing for you to do,” she told him. “You're a surprise, Dr. Demetrios.”

“Why?” he asked, resting his forearms on the tabletop and leaning forward, his gaze searching hers.

“Because you have a reputation as a playboy, which infers you're shallow. But the more I get to know you, the more complicated you seem.”

He smiled, a slow upward curve of his lips. “I'm not complicated,” he murmured, his voice husky with need. “At the moment, I've got only a single interest.”

“And what would that be?” she asked,
mesmerized by the heat in his eyes and the sensual curve of his mouth.

“You.” He closed the few inches between them and covered her mouth with his.

The kiss was sweet, slow and filled with heat. Jennifer felt her toes curl as desire moved like languid fire through he veins.

“Um, excuse me.” The hesitant female voice had Chance lifting his head.

“Ah, coffee.” He sat back to give the waitress room to empty her tray, setting steaming coffee cups in front of them and a carafe in the center of the table. “Thanks.”

The fresh-faced teenager smiled shyly in response and whisked away.

Jennifer was disoriented and slightly dizzy from the kiss, while Chance appeared to have gone from arousal to casual friendliness in a matter of seconds.

Determined to match his seemingly unflappable coolness, she sipped her coffee, eyeing him over the rim while she scrambled for casual conversation.

“Did you grow up here in Boston?” she asked, settling for a standard, getting-to-know-you topic.

“No.” He shook his head. “I spent my childhood in upstate New York. I moved here when I took the job at the Armstrong Institute. What about you—did you grow up in Boston?”

“No, I lived in a small town in Illinois until I moved here last year.”

“What made you choose Boston?”

“I had a friend from high school who moved here. She encouraged me to join her. She loved the city, especially all the American historical sites. We used to visit a national historical treasure nearly every weekend.”

“Used to? Why did you stop?”

Jennifer shrugged. “Renee met the man of her dreams and it was love at first sight. They married after dating for three weeks and have been traveling the world ever since. He's an archeologist and they're currently living in Central America while he helps excavate a Mayan temple.”

“No kidding?” Chance looked intrigued. “Now there's a job that sounds interesting.”

Jennifer laughed. “Every guy who hears about Renee's husband's job says that. There must be a frustrated adventurer hidden in every male on the planet.”

“Maybe.” He grinned.

The waitress arrived with their food, interrupting their conversation. Jennifer indulged in crepes drizzled with chocolate sauce while Chance tucked into a Spanish omelet. By the time they'd finished eating
and had poured a second round of coffee, they were deep in a discussion of movies they'd seen.

“You like chick flicks,” Chance told her. “Most of the movies on your best-of list are romantic comedies.”

“I liked the movie
Hunt For Red October
and that's not a chick flick,” Jennifer protested.

“No kidding—you like that movie?” He lifted his brows in surprise. “I've seen it about a dozen times.”

“Me, too.” Jennifer sipped her coffee. “Of course,” she added, “the film's stars are Sean Connery and a young Alec Baldwin. To be honest, I'd be tempted to watch it over again just to see them.”

“So the big attraction isn't the incredible underwater sub maneuvers or the great suspense plot, it's the handsome actors?”

She considered the question, eyes narrowed, before nodding firmly. “Pretty much.”

Chance's face lit with amusement, his deep, rich laughter drawing the attention of nearby diners.

Jennifer suspected her smile was besotted but she couldn't help it. The sunlight gleamed in his black hair, laugh lines fanning at the corners of his eyes.

His gaze met his and his laughter died.

“Let's go home,” he said roughly, the curve of his mouth sensual.

“Yes,” she breathed, caught up in the heat that flared between them. “Let's.”

Jennifer woke slowly, stretching and smiling contentedly at the warmth against her back. A weight lay over her waist, anchoring her to the hard male body she lay tucked against and she realized Chance was curled around her, his arm holding her close.

There was a great deal to like about waking up with a man, she thought with a smile.

She opened her eyes. Just beyond the edge of the white sheet-covered mattress was the oak nightstand with a brass clock, its numbers glowing in the dim bedroom.

Her eyes widened. It was almost four o'clock. And Linda had promised to return Annie to the apartment by 6:00 p.m.

Her weekend was over.

She wasn't ready to let it go. She'd lost track of the number of times they'd made love and yet she wanted more. But reality intruded and she bit her lip, knowing she had no choice.

Carefully, she lifted Chance's arm and slipped out from beneath his hold. He muttered, protesting, and she froze beside the bed, holding her breath and
hoping he wouldn't waken. Then he shifted, sprawling on his stomach over the place where she'd lain moments before. His eyes remained closed and the tension eased out of his big body as he relaxed, clearly asleep again.

Jennifer lingered a moment, her gaze tracing the beard-shadowed line of his jaw, the black lashes fanning against his olive skin and the sensual curve of his mouth. The white sheet was bunched at his waist, leaving the powerful muscles of his upper body and arms bare.

Reluctant to leave him, she forced herself to turn her back and pad silently into the bathroom where she'd left her borrowed clothes earlier. Dressing quickly, she slipped through the connecting door to the hall and let herself out the front door of Chance's town house.

As she hurried down the street on her way to the bus stop on the next block, she was assailed by a barrage of memories of the hours spent with Chance.

He was a man she could easily fall in love with, she realized. She hoped fervently that she hadn't already done so—because she knew there wasn't, could never be, a future for them together. She reached the end of the block and a bus wheezed to a stop, the doors opening. She climbed the steps, determined to put Chance Demetrios out of her mind.

Whether she could put him out of her heart remained to be seen.

Chance knew the moment he woke that Jennifer was gone. He swept his hand over the sheet but felt no warmth left by her body. He sat up, scrubbing his hands over his face, then tilted his head, listening. The complete silence was broken only by the soft ticking of the bedside clock.

“Damn it,” he said into the stillness. He'd wanted to take her home. He hadn't counted on being so relaxed and wrung out from making love this morning and last night that he'd sleep through Jennifer's leaving.

Nails clattered on the oak flooring and Butch nosed the hall door open wider before bounding across the room, tail wagging. He laid his head on the bed, big brown eyes pleading with Chance.

“What?” Chance groaned. “I suppose you want to go out?”

The big rottweiler barked, one sharp, approving sound that made Chance wince.

“Not so loud, buddy,” he muttered. “I'm getting up.”

He tossed back the sheet and sat on the edge of the bed.

Butch barked again and nosed the sheet a few inches
from Chance's hip, burrowing beneath the sheet until his head was out of sight beneath white cotton.

“Hey, cut that out.” Chance tossed the sheet aside. Silver glittered and he pulled the sheet aside to find a necklace peeking out from under the pillow. He grabbed the chain and locket just before Butch could reach it. A low whine rumbled from the dog's throat and his brown eyes were reproachful. “Oh, come on.” Chance ran his hand over Butch's head and scratched him behind his ear. “You know this is Jennifer's. And you know you're not supposed to have it.”

Butch plopped down on his haunches and eyed the locket, dangling by its chain from Chance's fingers.

The oval-shaped locket had a delicate latch. Chance felt as if his fingers were giant-size as he carefully maneuvered the tiny mechanism. The locket opened and he held it on his palm. One side held a photograph of a little girl, her impish face smiling up at him. The other half held a tiny curl of auburn hair, gleaming brightly against the silver metal.

Cute kid. I wonder who she is? He ran the pad of his index finger over the small, bright curl. And I wonder if this is her hair?

He had no answers, but he was going to ask Jennifer as soon as he saw her again. There were lots of things he wanted to know about her. Their one date—
and the best sex he'd ever shared—had only led him to be more intrigued about her.

Butch whined and nudged his damp nose against Chance's knee.

“Okay, big guy,” Chance told him. “I'll let you out.”

He grabbed his jeans from the closet and pulled them on. Then he jogged barefoot down the stairs and through the kitchen to open the back door. Butch barreled happily past him and out into the small backyard.

“I've got to teach him better manners,” Chance muttered to himself. He turned back into the kitchen to make coffee—and wondered if Jennifer was thinking of him, as he was thinking of her.

Jennifer stepped out of the silk slacks and folded them atop the hamper. She knew by the label that the slacks had probably cost more than her monthly salary, the nubby raw silk pure tactile pleasure to touch.