Destiny's Chance (13 page)

Chapter Thirteen

Chance pulled his ball cap low over his forehead and slumped in the driver’s seat of Roman’s SUV. Inside the studio, an accordion screen had been folded back, allowing him to observe the photo sitting in process.

Sitting
was a misnomer.

The bald baby wearing a frilly pink dress scampered around as Destiny, Laura, and, judging from the facial resemblance, the baby’s mother coaxed her to remain motionless on the carpeted posing stage. Laughing, Destiny attempted to capture the little girl’s attention by waving a stuffed animal. She’d no sooner get her settled, would squeeze off a shot or two, and the baby would toddle away, the process starting anew.

A week had passed since his failure to force Destiny into confessing For eight long days and even longer nights, he’d ridden a roller coaster of mixed emotions. Missed her. Regretted his actions. Applauded them. Considered taking her back on any terms. Feared no relationship could survive without honesty.

Time chipped at his willpower until he succumbed to the urge to do a drive-by. Except he didn’t cruise; he parked and spied. This was what it had come to: he’d become a stalker, disguised by a hat and sunglasses and an unfamiliar vehicle. If Roman ever suspected why he’d asked to borrow his SUV, Chance would never hear the end of it.

He swiped a hand over his stubbled jaw, then cupped his palm over his mouth and exhaled into it. Stale beer and morning breath filled his nose. He’d forgotten to brush his teeth. Again.

His life had assumed a monotony: working till late, then drinking till he fell asleep. In between, he’d talk to anybody who’d listen, which, since Roman had barked at him to
“shut up already”
amounted to nobody.

He watched as Destiny confidently handled the camera, interacted with her client. She’d cut and dyed her hair auburn. The pixie haircut enhanced her femininity and showed off the perfect bone structure of her profile, but he would recognize her anywhere because he had connected to her. It wasn’t cooking or humming that caused her to stand apart but her inner essence.

Faded blue jeans hugged her spankable butt, and when she turned sideways, he could see corresponding bumps underneath her pink T-shirt. Adrenaline pumped through his system, setting his heart to racing, his pulse to hammering, even as a dark, wet blanket of despair settled over him. He’d done everything a man could do.

Except shout: “I know you’re Destiny Grable.”

When had he become such a coward?

About the time he’d fallen in love with Destiny. Perhaps that was what had made it so difficult to bond with Zoe and then to let her go so easily when they decided to split. His feelings for her had been no deeper than hers for him.

Destiny chuckled at the baby’s antics, her shoulders shaking, her hand clapped over her mouth. Zoe didn’t laugh that way. But Destiny used to. She’d had the most endearing giggle. It lit up her whole face and transformed her from pretty to breathtaking. Despite a new body, a new appearance,
she
continued to shine.

He tore his gaze away from the woman who tormented his waking hours and haunted his dreams, and focused on a pair of panties on the passenger floorboard and then on a strip of condoms with two empty packets in the center console. To his credit, his brother was prepared. If the Boy Scouts had had a badge for fucking, he would have earned it by age fifteen. Chance knew without checking that the glove box contained a stash of additional rubbers. Roman had scored more women than Chance had dated. He used to envy his brother’s prowess but had since come to realize he and Roman represented flip sides of the same dented coin. One brother couldn’t settle down; the other couldn’t let go.

The baby wound down enough to allow pictures. On the sidelines, her mother spoke animatedly to Destiny’s sister, who grinned and nodded. Then Laura’s smile vanished, and she snapped her head around to stare out the window. A chill traveled up Chance’s spine. Laura touched the mother’s arm, commented, then made a beeline for the door.

Oh, fuck
. The last thing he needed was a psychic messing around in his head. He fumbled with the car key. Glanced at the studio. Laura stood on the sidewalk.

“Shit!” He fired up the engine.

She jogged into the street. “Chance, wait!”

He peeled away in a cloud of burning rubber.

* * * *

Laura reentered the studio, and Destiny squeezed off a final photo of the baby. “What was that all about? You ran out of here like the roof was caving in.”

“False alarm,” Laura said cheerfully, a cat with a mouthful of canary feathers. She was a terrible liar. Unfortunately, the client’s presence prevented Destiny from grilling her as she deserved.

She addressed the baby’s mother. “I got some great shots of Sophia.”

“I’m sorry she behaved so badly.”

She smiled. “She was a perfect little girl.”

“We’ll have proofs for review tomorrow,” Laura said. “Would you like us to e-mail them, or would you prefer to come in to choose your package?”

“Why don’t you e-mail them so my husband can see?” The mother hefted her purse and a diaper bag over one shoulder, and then settled a drooling Sophia on the opposite hip.

“Will do. Let me help you out.” Laura escorted the mother to the front. She remained gazing at the street for several long seconds after the departure.

“What’s going on?” Destiny anchored her hands on her hips.

“The next client arrives in fifteen minutes.” Laura collected the toys Sophia had lobbed around the room, and Destiny bided her time. Her sister slam-dunked a stuffed squirrel into a basket. “Chance was lurking outside,” she said, smugness coating her tone.

Destiny’s stomach plunged with panic while her cardiac rate soared with hope. “Is he still there?”

“He’s gone.”

Her fingers shook as she tucked her new short hair behind her ears. “Are you sure? How long was he there?” She nibbled on her upper lip.

Laura’s expression grew stern. “Go see him. Work it out.”

“I can’t. He doesn’t love me.” He didn’t even like her.

“Yes, he does. That’s why he was hanging around.”

“What was he doing?”

“Sitting in his car, watching the building.” A smile grazed her lips. “Stalking.”

It sounded too good to be true. “What did he look like?”

“He wore a hat. I couldn’t see his face.”

“What was he driving?”

“A white SUV.”

The bottom fell out of her bucket of hope. “That’s not what he drives.”

“Maybe he does now. Or he used somebody else’s car. I sensed something odd all morning, and when I glanced out the window, there he was.”

“Did you talk to him? Did he say anything?”

Laura shook her head. “No. When I called his name, he drove away.”

“See? It wasn’t him.”

“By drove away, I mean burned rubber. You could track him by the black streaks he left on the road.” Laura bobbed her head confidently. “He came to check up on you. That means he cares.”

“It’s been a week since I left, and he’s made no effort to contact me.”

“This was his effort.”

Destiny collapsed onto a stool. “I can’t go through this, get my hopes up, only to have them smashed. I’ve loved him for so long, and after the most horrible thing happened, I thought I had a shot to be with him. But he doesn’t love me…me as Destiny or me as Zoe.”

Laura snorted. “I think—”

Destiny raised her palms to ward off arguments too painful to endure. “Please let this pass. I have to accept the truth and get on with my life.”

“I hate to see true love die.”

Sometimes her sister could be obnoxiously persistent. “You mean well, but it’s not true love because it’s not mutual. He doesn’t care for me. There’s no chance that anything could come of this.”

No Chance.

Laura strode to the reception desk and neatened some papers into stacks. “All right. I won’t talk to you about it anymore.”

Chapter Fourteen

Roman stuck a toothpick in his mouth, leaned against the fender of the ancient, massive sedan, and crossed his legs at the ankles. “What you need is to find another woman. Nothing cures heartbreak like finding another chick.”

“Yeah, like you know anything about heartache,” Chance retorted. His brother had
caused
heartbreak. But experienced it? To Roman, women were as interchangeable as socks. Chance ducked under the car’s hood. He’d already deduced a clogged fuel filter had caused the lurching the car’s owner complained about.

“This obsession of yours isn’t because you think Destiny and Zoe are the same person, is it?”

“I’m not obsessed. And no.” He
was
obsessed, but he could truthfully say that Destiny and Zoe were not the same. Not at all.

“The sooner you get over this, the sooner your life—and more importantly, mine—can get back to normal. You’ve been moping around, and you’ve lost focus. Like this car.” Roman thumped the fender. “We’re an auto body shop. We don’t do engine repairs.”

Chance wiggled a hose and tuned out his brother.

“Are you going to answer me?”

Standing up, Chance scowled. “Have you asked a question?” He wiped his hands on a shop rag he pulled from his back pocket. “She reminded me of Memaw.”

A white-haired lady had driven into the shop—almost into the wall, since she could hardly see over the steering wheel of the massive automobile—and asked for help. She came up to his armpit, and something about the way she’d “young manned” him got to him. He couldn’t turn her away for fear that a less scrupulous shop might take advantage of her ignorance and convince her to undertake unneeded costly repairs.

Roman slugged him on the arm. “Let’s grab a couple of beers after work. I’ve heard of a bar you might like. Bottom’s Up. It’s a spanko hangout. We should check it out.”

“No shit?” Chance arched his eyebrows.

“No shit.”

“Sounds good, but I have something else planned after work.”

“You’re not going to do something stupid like beg Zoe to take you back, are you?”

“No.” Not Zoe. Destiny. A week had passed since he’d spied on her at the studio—two weeks since she’d left him after their fight—and his conviction that
she
should come clean first had eroded. Would he allow stubbornness to cost him a relationship?

You don’t have a relationship.

Maybe we could have.

They could start fresh, like they just met.
Hi, I’m Chance. Hello, I’m Destiny
. It could be interesting getting to know the one he loved instead of falling in love with the one he knew. He had decided to start at square one: ask her out.

The possibility that Destiny
had
died and the woman who resembled Zoe was, in fact, her, still existed. But the time had come to stop guessing, cease playing games. Tonight he would get the whole truth out of her. He shoved the dirty shop rag into his pocket.

Two bursts of a bell signaled a customer had entered the waiting area. “Could you get that?” He glanced at Roman. Their employee who ran the front desk was on her honeymoon.

“Fine.” Roman shoved off from the fender and sauntered toward the front of the shop.

Chance strode to the grease-stained desk and grabbed the phone. He dialed an auto parts supplier to order a replacement fuel filter.

“Reliable Auto Parts. Can you hold please?” The words rushed through a background of ringing phones. He sighed and sank into the swivel chair, turning his back to the waiting room. He’d give the store a few minutes before he left to buy the part himself. Roman—damn him—was right. He should have referred the elderly lady someplace else.

He could hear the hum of his brother’s baritone, and then came his footfalls along with a lighter, clicking step.

“Why don’t you and I get to know each other better over lunch?” rumbled Roman’s trying-to-pick-up-a-chick voice.

Chance thinned his lips. His horndog brother had promised he’d stop hitting on customers. It was bad for business.

“Judging from that toothpick hanging out of your mouth, I’d say you’ve already had lunch, so no,” responded a dismissive, familiar female voice.