Take A Chance On Me (4 page)

Maddie licked dry lips, her breath hitching a little as he described such a sexual act in such a blasé manner.

Another swipe of his thumb along the pulse pounding in her wrist. “I want you to come home with me because I find you fascinating and want to understand what’s going on in that good-girl, Catholic brain of yours. I want you to come home with me because I’ve laughed more in the last hour then I have in a long time. And I want you to come home with me because I don’t think I can let you out of my sight, which means if you sleep in a car, I’ll be sleeping there too. I’m thirty-four, way too old to sleep twisted like a pretzel all night.”

He let go of her wrist. She opened her mouth to speak, but he shook his head and the words died on her lips. “The truth is, Maddie, I need
you
to rescue
me
.”

Chapter Four

Standing on the threshold of Mitch’s living room, Maddie twisted her hands like a nervous old lady. They’d said their good-nights. He’d sent her to bed, and having to go and find him was the last thing she’d wanted.

She rubbed a finger over the slight indent where her engagement ring had been. Why must every stab at independence be met with more tests? She’d tried to take care of things herself but even the basics were challenging her.

Now here she was, once again forced to ask for help.

She cleared her throat, hoping to get his attention, but a car exploded on the large flat-screen TV, drowning her efforts. Of course he had surround sound. In a house dedicated to the 1930s, it was befitting that one of the few concessions to modern life would thwart her.

In the flickering gray light, his attention stayed firmly on the action movie and her glare was lost on the back of his head.

At the bar, when she’d been buzzed on whiskey and his intoxicating flirting, spending the night had been the ultimate temptation. But the second they’d entered his kitchen, all of that ease had evaporated like a desert mirage, replaced by the tension of two strangers forced into close proximity too soon.

After a few minutes of awkward conversation, he’d led her upstairs, handed her a T-shirt, and shoved her in a room straight out of her grandmother’s decorating book. In clipped tones, he’d pointed to the telephone, shown her how to lock the door, and offered to call the chief of police, who he apparently knew, to provide a character reference.

She’d said that wouldn’t be necessary and he’d said good night.

She’d hoped she wouldn’t have to face him until the following morning, but that was no longer an option. She had no other choice. Unable to avoid the inevitable any longer, she said, “Mitch?”

He jumped, whipping around to pin her with a scowl, obvious even in the shadowed room.

A tiny bolt of fear shot through her, and instinct had her two-stepping back.

“Sorry, you scared me.” The rigidness of his posture eased as he smiled. His gaze roamed over her wedding dress, which was practically filling the doorway with its overflowing skirts. “I thought I’d sent you to bed.”

Out of nowhere, the alcohol betrayed her. Her hand fluttered to her neck, fingers entwined on the crystal choker at her throat as something unforgivable welled inside her. “Um . . . I’m sorry,” she babbled, unable to form a coherent sentence.
Please, God, no.

“Is something wrong?” Concern tightened his expression and he slid one arm over the length of the sofa.

Another step back. She couldn’t do this. The pressure in her chest grew. “I, um, it’s just . . .”

“Come here, Maddie, and tell me what’s wrong.” His voice was soft but insistent.

She took one small step forward, but the pressure threatened to crush her and her throat closed over. She stopped and looked down at the floor.

No. No. No.
But it was too late.

She picked up a large handful of the dress. In this crazy, unreasonable moment, every problem in her life could be blamed on this stupid, god-awful, horrid princess wedding gown.

The floodgates opened and she burst into tears. Loud, wailing, obnoxious tears.

Her whole body shook as big, fat drops slid down her cheeks. Mortified, she covered her face as though she could hide her wailing.

Strong arms enveloped her and Mitch pulled her close. She gave one thought to protest, and then sank into the warm, solid strength of his chest. He was big and broad, so different from what she was used to. The thought made her cry harder.

She should push him away, but instead she curled closer. Needing him. She was the most wicked kind of woman. There’d be no escaping hell now. All those years of penance washed away by one night of rash behavior.

Mitch kissed her temple, rubbing his hands over her bare skin. That he let her cry, and didn’t start lecturing her on emotional outbursts, made her want to crawl into him and never let go.

He swayed them both, murmuring nonsense and tracing slow, soothing circles over her back. “Come on now, Princess. Tell me what’s wrong so I can help you.”

She hiccupped into his shirt while she clung to him as though he were her life vest on a sinking ship. A great gush of air was followed by a hiccup. She blurted her very pressing and very embarrassing need. “I-I h-have to go to the b-b-bathroom.”

The gentle sway stopped. A rumble in his chest was followed by a cough.

He was trying not to laugh. The jerk.

She sobbed harder: great heaping wails straight from the pit of her stomach. Now that she was on a roll, she keened pitifully, “A-and m-m-y f-feet hurt.”

“It’s okay.” His tone was most definitely amused. “Why didn’t you go?”

Now came the worst confession. “M-my dress i-is too b-big.”

“Well, take it off.”

Did he think she was an idiot?

“I c-can’t get it off.” With a fresh batch of hysterics, her shoulders trembled as she buried her face in his T-shirt, now wet with tears. No one at the store had mentioned she’d need a crew of people to go to the bathroom, and now a stranger had to undress her. She hiccupped. They really should mention these kinds of details at the time of purchase.

He ran his fingers down a million tiny buttons from the blades of her shoulders to the curve of her ass. “It’s okay. We can take care of this.”

“B-but,” she cried. The thought almost unbearable. She was being tested. How was she supposed to be good when she had to disrobe in front of the most gorgeous man alive? “You’ll s-see me almost n-naked.”

When he said nothing, fresh tears welled in her eyes. He probably thought she was propositioning him. Surely women threw themselves at him all the time.

He rubbed her bare arms. “I’m thirty-four, Princess. I’ve seen a naked woman before.”

“But you haven’t seen me.” No one had seen her—well, except Steve, but he hardly even counted. “I’m twenty-eight, and only one guy has seen me. And he isn’t like you. Why can’t you be someone else?”

“Like who?” He trailed a path over her bare skin, creating a rush of tingles up and down her spine.

She burrowed closer, some of her hysterics finally calming as his soothing but intoxicating presence worked its charm. “You’re not Mister Rogers, you know.”

“You can trust me, Maddie. I won’t attack.”

Ha! Not a concern. Once he saw her puny body, he’d probably wonder if she was a boy. Who knew what she’d do in her weakened emotional state with no clothes to protect her? She hadn’t been on her own since she was fifteen. What if she went crazy? She’d believed she’d been cured of her former wildness, but now she wasn’t so sure. Maybe it had only been hidden by years of emotional repression. Unable to stop the constant blurting of confessions, she cried, “But I might attack you.”

His hands tightened at her waist as though he wanted to curl his fingers into fists.

Embarrassed, she pressed closer, not wanting to let him go despite the growing urgency of her bladder. If she let go, she might start blubbering all over again.

His grip loosened and he traced a path up her arm to cup her jaw. With an insistent hold, he gently forced her chin up until she met his gaze. Eyes watery from her tears, she blinked him into focus.

He gave her an easy smile. “Princess, I’m six-three, and probably outweigh you by a good eighty pounds. I can fight you off.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sure you get this all the time.” She sniffed. “With your unfortunate good looks.”

“Now that’s one I’ve never heard before,” he teased.

Her eyes welled up again. “I’m trying so hard to be good, but things aren’t going my way.”

“I’m sure the Pope will understand,” he said, laughter threading his voice.

A few more tears slid down her cheeks. No one would ever understand. “I’m going to hell.”

“No way. You’re far too sweet.” He stroked over her cheek, and she buried her face in his chest. He started that slow sway again as she took deep, calming breaths.

“How about this?” he continued. “Let’s get you out of this dress and then we can talk.”

She nodded, her cheek rubbing along his T-shirt. “I tried to squirm out of it myself, but it’s too tight.”

“Turn around, and I’ll get you out of this thing.”

“Are you sure?” She burrowed deeper, even though the pressure on her bladder was increasingly uncomfortable.

“I’m positive. No big deal. I promise.” He sounded casual enough, and as he’d pointed out, he’d seen plenty of naked women. Besides, now that she was thinking clearly in the aftermath of her outburst, she realized that after he unbuttoned the dress, she could hold it up until she reached safety.

See? She could do this. It’d be easy. The dress might weigh fifty pounds, but she had the strength to hold it. Under her brother James’s tutelage, she’d been working on her biceps for months in the gym.

She stopped clutching his waist and bravely stepped away. “I’ll be good.”

A wide, devilish grin flashed over his lips, and he looped an arm around her and pulled her back. For a split second, he lost the hard set of his jaw and looked downright carefree. “Or I can make you come three or four times until you’re too exhausted to pounce.”

Shocked, she widened her eyes, and heat seared her cheeks. “That’s not being good!”

“It is if you do it right.”

“Um . . . I . . . ,” she gasped, stepping back. “Um . . . ,” she sputtered, not knowing what to say. Was that even possible? She darted a glance at Mitch and bit her bottom lip.

With him, it might be, assuming she could get out of her own head. She frowned. Why was she thinking about this? She was
not
considering this. She wasn’t. This was something the old Maddie would have considered, back when she was young and reckless. Rash.

She wasn’t that kind of woman anymore. Or was she?

Concern flattened the smile that had graced Mitch’s lips moments ago. He held up his hands, as though she were a frightened animal and he had to demonstrate how harmless he was. “Shit, I’m sorry. I forgot myself for a second, and you’re fun to tease.”

Oh, so he’d been joking. She steeled her spine. Such a relief. She didn’t want to find out anyway.

Because that would be very, very wrong.

 

 

Now why the hell had he gone and said that?

He’d finally calmed her down, and now he had to fuck it up. He raked a hand through his hair and tried not to get distracted when her pink tongue darted over her strawberry-stained mouth.

Since she still hadn’t said anything, he continued to work on digging himself out of the hole he’d dug. “Can you forgive me? Men are complete idiots when a woman cries.” He gave her the smile he’d reserved for old ladies in the jury box.

She nibbled on her lower lip, looking pensive and wary.

The bluebird in his grandma’s cuckoo clock sprang from its door and chirped, breaking the silence. Maddie jumped, pressing her hand to her chest as though trying to keep her heart from jumping out.

As the clock struck, he cursed himself for making her uncomfortable. How could he have made such a tactical error? From what he’d discerned, she might as well be a virgin.

He’d simply forgotten himself. Lost in her charm and good-girl complex, he’d said the first teasing thing that sprang to mind.

And since he was a guy, it had been sexual.

He took two cautious steps toward her, hoping she wouldn’t bolt upstairs. “That wasn’t the best thing to say when I’m trying to get you out of your clothes.”

Auburn brows drew together in what he could only suspect was disapproval.

He shook his head. What the hell was wrong with him? This wasn’t the time to mention seeing her naked. Shit, it was like he had no experience with women.

She still said nothing, just stared at him with those uncanny green eyes. And damn if it wasn’t making him a bit unsettled. It had been so long since he’d been anything but cool and detached, even before his troubles in Chicago. The knowledge caused a stirring of unease.

“I swear, I didn’t mean it.” He was starting to sound like a sixteen-year-old apologizing for trying to get to second base.

Quietly, she toyed with the fabric of her dress, picking at one of the sparkly beads.

At a loss for how to make the situation right, he offered the one thing he wanted to avoid, but was guaranteed to put her at ease. “Do you want me to call my neighbor, Gracie, to come help you out of your dress? She eats shit like this up, so you’ll make her day.”

Maddie shifted on the balls of her feet.

He narrowed his eyes. No matter how hard he peered at her, she remained a mystery. He sweetened the offer. “She’s a baker, so I bet she even has some cupcakes or cookies lying around.”

Maddie placed her hand on her stomach.

Why wouldn’t she speak? He raked a hand through his hair. “Princess, take pity on me here. I can’t begin to guess what you’re thinking. Did I scare you away forever?”

She blinked, her face clearing as though she’d suddenly come out of a trance. “I’m sorry. Other than being an emotional basket case, I’m fine.”

This was why he needed to refrain from any more cute remarks. “Let me call Gracie.”

“No,” she said, shaking her head. “I’m not up to meeting anyone.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure,” she said, taking a deep breath. Hand still resting on her stomach, she took a step, closing the distance between them.

God help him.

Determined to remain a perfect gentleman, he encircled her wrist and said in a light tone, “Let me get you out of this dress.”

“Thank you.” That defiant little chin of hers tilted as though to gather her courage.

He twirled her under the curve of his arm until she faced away. “Once you’re free, go run right upstairs. I want you to feel safe, so use the lock if it makes you feel better. Okay?”