Take A Chance On Me (5 page)

She craned her neck to peer at him. Even red-rimmed and puffy, her eyes were luminous. The line of her neck curved into the hollow of her shoulder, creating a stunning silhouette that about knocked him to his knees along with her next words. “I trust you, Mitch.”

His chest squeezed tight. Everything about her tempted him. He released his hold, running a hand up her bare arm. “Don’t.”

He’d given in to this kind of desire once and his whole life had gone up in flames, leaving him with no other option but to start over. And he had. He’d created a nice, comfortable life for himself here in Revival. He’d believed he was content. But now he knew it was a lie—he’d been complacent, bored.

Maddie made him remember why he’d loved the chase. Why he used to hunt down a challenge like a bloodhound. After he’d left Chicago, he’d sworn he’d never make the same mistakes.

He was older now, and wiser. This time, he’d do the smart thing.

He trailed a path down between her shoulder blades, catching on the band of fabric. Damn, she had beautiful skin: ivory pale and smooth as silk.

She sucked in a breath, holding it.

Would this be his only chance to touch her? He toyed with the first button. Dallying. For all he knew, he could wake up in the morning and find her gone.

“Um.” She shifted and cleared her throat. The sway of heavy satin rustled in the thick silence. “Aren’t you going to get on with it?”

That was the last thing he wanted, but he let the first satin-covered button slip free. The pad of his finger brushed exposed skin. So fucking soft.

Her dress began to slip. “I can’t have sex with you.” He undid another button, ignoring how hard he’d been for her all damn night. “That’s why you’re going straight to bed after I get you out of this thing.”

She clutched the thick band of fabric to her chest as her head dipped low. “Can you really do that?”

Distracted by the slow, excruciating exposing of skin, he absently asked, “Do what?”

Another button opened, and she made a little squeak. “You know . . .
that
.” Her voice was a whisper as she hiked the dress up to keep it from falling to the floor.

Two more buttons undone revealed the first hint of the white silk she wore under the satin. Unable to resist the lure of her, he leaned down and sucked in her sweet, feminine scent.

He needed to get this conversation onto safe ground, but he was unable to push back the words. “Make you come?”

“Yes,” she said, with a soft intake of breath. “Like you said.”

Shit, he was in trouble here. His fingers played down the curve of her spine. Male satisfaction settled deep in his bones when goose bumps rose on her skin. “Yes, Maddie. I’d love nothing better than to make you come.” With another stroke along her flesh, he ignored the remaining buttons. “With my hands. My mouth.” He pressed his lips close to her neck but didn’t dare touch. “You wouldn’t have to do any work at all.”

“I see.” A little squeak.

A muscle jumped in his jaw. He had to stop this. With gritted teeth, he made quick work of the last remaining buttons, and then, even though it killed him, he stepped away and let her go. “You’re free.”

She turned around slowly, still clutching the heavy fabric to her chest. Her arms shook a little. “What about you?”

Was she trying to kill him? Test him to see if he was a candidate for sainthood? He assessed her, studying her closely. He didn’t see any coyness lurking. No artificial flirtation or feigned innocence. If anything, she looked—he cocked his head, taking in the line of her jaw, the tilt of her chin—curious. He made an impulsive decision and opted for bluntness. “There are a million things I can do to you that don’t include my cock, Maddie.”

“Oh.” A gasp. She took an involuntary step backward, then froze in her tracks. The bodice of her dress slipped a little. “But I don’t understand.”

“What are you confused about?” There was a razor-sharp edge in his tone. He swallowed to remove the tension choking him.

She nibbled her bottom lip, her auburn brows drawing together. “What do you get out of it?”

“I get to put my hands and mouth all over you. That’s what I get out of it.”

Her expression went blank. Her lips parted, only to snap shut again.

Her reasons for climbing out a church window were becoming clearer by the second. He should keep his mouth shut and let her work through her own thoughts, but screw it. “Not all men are selfish pricks in bed.”

She stepped back, and the dress faltered, threatening to slip from her grasp. “This conversation is inappropriate, isn’t it?”

“No,” he said, watching her precarious hold on the heaps of fabric. He wasn’t sure if he was praying for it to fall or stay up. He cleared his throat. “But it’s still time for you to go to bed.”

With a sharp nod, she backed out of the room. “Thanks for helping me.”

“Anytime, Princess.” She’d better get out of here fast, or he’d be coming after her. She turned and started to climb the stairs, and he called innocuously, “Sleep well.”

“You too,” she said, moving more quickly, until she disappeared with a final swish of white. Fifteen seconds later, he heard the slam of a door.

He blew out a deep breath and ran a hand over his day’s worth of stubble. This was going to be a long fucking night.

Chapter Five

Maddie pressed two fingers to her throbbing temple and blinked against the morning light straining her eyes. Food and coffee, both of which would do wonders for her hangover, waited downstairs, but she wasn’t quite ready to face Mitch Riley yet.

Instead, her life tugged at her. An incessant pull of guilt had her gaze drifting time and again to the old-fashioned telephone sitting on a secretary’s desk. It was a beautiful piece of furniture, even with the painted flower detail work chipped away.

She turned to stare out the window at the yard below, mentally landscaping the unkempt grounds beneath. With a little work, it would be gorgeous. Even now, weeping willows and wild flowers swayed in the gentle summer breeze, creating an idyllic view. Oak and maple trees well over a hundred years old lined the grass. Peeking through the leaves was a river, lazily moving downstream. It was so picture perfect that an urge to draw the scene stole through her, surprising her. She hadn’t drawn or painted anything since her dad died when she was fifteen.

At the thought of her father, her gaze jerked to the phone. It worked. She’d checked last night and even considered using it, but she hadn’t. She needed to call her family and let them know she was alive and safe. But every time she thought about calling, her stomach rolled.

She loved them and wanted to do the right thing, but if she called now, they’d convince her to come home. Her mom would cry, and Steve would tell her how irrational she was being, and Shane would take over. By the time she hung up, her shoulders would be tense. Her belly would be coiled tight with guilt. She’d fall all over herself trying to make them happy, and somehow, what she wanted would end up sounding ridiculous and silly.

That wasn’t an option. She refused to have her freedom snatched away before she’d even had a chance to experience it. After one short night, the knot of tension she’d been carrying around for as long as she could remember had eased—not a lot, but enough for her to recognize the difference. Enough for her to know she wasn’t ready to leave.

The simple solution was to call her best friends. Penelope and Sophie wouldn’t judge her. Maddie could kill two birds with one stone—inform her family she was safe and alleviate some of her guilt.

She’d try Penelope first. Penelope Watkins was all cool efficiency and grace under pressure. Her brother called her the “Iron Fist.” Unlike Maddie, who had a faux, sister-to-the-boss job, Penelope was integral to Shane’s business. If someone wanted access to Shane, they had to get through Penelope first. Naturally, she was the logical choice to keep the family at bay for a while longer.

Maddie walked to the bed and sat down. On impulse, she blocked the number before dialing her oldest girlfriend’s cell. After half a ring, Penelope came on the line with a clipped, “Hello.”

Maddie twisted the cord around her finger and whispered, “Are you alone?”

“Maddie, thank God,” Penelope said, although her tone held no harried urgency. “Where are you?”

Maddie darted a nervous glance around the room, irrationally worried that her brothers would jump out from behind the lace curtains. “I’m fine. Are you alone?”

“Sophie’s here,” Penelope said. “Are you sure you’re okay? Everyone has been crazy with worry. Your mom is in hysterics, Shane’s popping antacid like it’s candy, and the rest of the clan is pacing the floors like caged lions.”

Maddie heard Sophie Kincaid’s urgent “Where is she, where is she?” in the background.

Penelope’s voice grew distant. “Geez, give me five seconds to find out.”

Maddie’s chest tightened, and she wished she hadn’t called. She didn’t want to think about home and reality.

“Where are you?” Penelope asked again. “We’re worried. Do you need help?”

“I’m okay,” Maddie said. “Can you let them know?”

Silence. Maddie could picture Penelope standing there, completely put together, not a hair out of place. She’d always been like that even when they’d been in kindergarten, with her pressed Catholic uniform and black patent leather shoes so shiny that Maddie had been able to see her reflection.

“You’re not going to call?” Her friend’s quiet question pulled Maddie out of her thoughts.

“Please, I don’t want to talk to them. I can’t.”

“Hey,” Penelope said, her voice softening. “It’s okay—I’ll take care of it. Tell us what you want us to do.”

“Tell them I’m okay.” Maddie wrapped the telephone cord around her fingers until they pulsed from lack of blood. “Tell them I’m sorry, and I’m safe.”

In the background, Sophie said, “Let me talk to her.”

“In a minute,” Penelope said, with her tone calm and soothing. “Are you sure you’re okay? I can’t believe you ran away and didn’t tell us.”

“I left a note,” Maddie said, lamely.

“Did something happen with Steve?”

Maddie shook her head even though Penelope couldn’t see her. “No, nothing happened. I don’t know. I was sitting there by myself, feeling like I wanted to throw up. And I knew. Knew it wasn’t supposed to be this way. Pen, I don’t feel the way I should.” Maddie’s voice cracked as her eyes filled with tears. “Does everyone hate me?”

“How can you even think that?” Penelope said sharply. “I only wish I’d known how unhappy you were.”

“I’m sorry.” Maddie brushed away the wet tracks on her cheeks. “Everyone loves Steve. He’s perfect.”

“No. We love you. We tolerated him.”

“But all he’s done for me—”

Penelope cut her off. “You were fifteen; it’s time you stopped doing penance. And just because he was nice and helped you doesn’t mean you have to marry him.”

“My mom—”

“She’ll get over it.” Penelope mumbled something under her breath that Maddie couldn’t hear. “It’s your life.”

Maddie pressed a finger to her throbbing temple. She didn’t want to think about Steve right now. “Tell them I’m sorry, okay?”

“I will. What about money?” Penelope asked. Forever practical, she was probably already opening a spreadsheet to compile a runaway-bride to-do list. “Do you need any? I could wire some to you.”

Yes!
Maddie’s mind screamed, but then she’d have to say where she was and for some reason, she couldn’t. Not even to her best friends. Wire transfers were traceable, and Shane had connections everywhere. “I’ll get by.”

“You sure?”

“Yes.”

“At least tell me where I can reach you.” There was rustling in the background, as Penelope probably got out her trusty notebook.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

The background noise stopped, and quiet fell over the line. Several beats passed before Penelope said, “You know I’ll never tell anyone.”

“Yeah, I do,” Maddie said. Her friends had always had her back and always would. “But you know how my brothers are.”

Penelope let out a huff. “Point taken.”

A laugh bubbled up, surprising Maddie.

“Okay,” Penelope said, her manner taking on a businesslike tone that always made everyone sit up and take notice. “On one condition: you have to call either Sophie or me every day and check in. Deal?”

Maddie smiled. “Deal.”

“Good,” Penelope said. “Call tomorrow or I swear to God I’ll sic Shane on you. Don’t make me play dirty.”

“I won’t. I promise.” Maddie watched the dial on the clock click over. “Put Sophie on.”

“If you need anything at all, you let me know, right?”

“I will,” Maddie swore. “Until tomorrow.”

“Good. Here’s Sophie.”

A few seconds later, Sophie came on the line.

“I didn’t know you still had it in you!” Sophie’s excited voice instantly made Maddie feel better. They’d met in junior high and developed an instant bond over teenage rebellion. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I think I am,” Maddie said, and actually, she thought it might be true.

“I’m so proud of you.”

A grin tugged at the corners of Maddie’s mouth. “I’m glad you approve.”

“It’s about time. I’ve missed the old Maddie,” Sophie said. “I knew he wasn’t right for you. Sure, he seems like the perfect guy, but I couldn’t stand how he always corrected you.”

Maddie frowned. “You never said anything.”

Sophie huffed. “I wasn’t about to badmouth your boyfriend, and you always talked about how much he did for you. It’s not like he was doing anything outright nasty or mean that I could point my finger at. I’m happy you finally got fed up and bailed.”

“Thank you.” It was the only thing Maddie could think of to say.

“I only wish I was with you so we could go on a
Thelma and Louise
road trip.”

Maddie laughed, remembering all the times they’d watched the movie, drooling over a young Brad Pitt. “I think I need to go on my own road trip and figure out who the hell I am.”

“I understand, but promise me one thing.”

“What?”

“If you meet a hot guy along the way, you have to tell me every last detail.”

“Sophie!” Maddie’s cheeks heated as she instantly thought of Mitch, the hot guy right downstairs. She pressed her lips together, fighting the sudden urge to confess. Sophie had always had that effect on her, never letting Maddie forget the girl she used to be before she’d gone down the virtuous path.

Maddie heard Penelope’s voice in the background and Sophie snorted. “I’m getting the reprimand.”

The clock on the nightstand clicked through another minute. “Soph, I need to go. But I’ll call you guys tomorrow.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.” Maddie gently hung up the phone and hugged herself. The T-shirt Mitch had given her to sleep in smelled of him: that curious mix of soap and man, with a hint of danger.

Last night, on what was supposed to have been her wedding night, she hadn’t been thinking of her abandoned groom. She hadn’t been thinking of God, or hell, or how horrible she was, like a decent person would. No, she’d spent a good hour staring at the cracks in the ceiling, having wayward, illicit thoughts about Mitch Riley. Thinking about what would have happened if their conversation had continued. Or even if she’d let the dress fall to the ground.

This stranger who’d invaded her thoughts and preoccupied her body had made her forget all about the good thing and remember what it was like to be bad.

And now she had to face him.

 

 

Halfway down the stairs, she heard the murmur of voices. Unable to make out what they were saying, Maddie could hear enough to know that one of them was female.

She faltered and stumbled. Screeching, she caught herself on the banister and clutched it like a long-lost lover. Pulse slowing to a reasonable rate, she regained her footing and cast a prayer of thanks at the ceiling that she hadn’t tumbled the rest of the way down. The last thing she needed was another grand entrance. Feet firmly planted on the ground, she let go of the railing and brushed a tangled lock of hair from one eye.

“Maddie.” Mitch’s voice right underneath her sent her pulse racing all over again.

She let out another yelp, hand flying to her chest. If she stayed in this house much longer she’d drop dead from a heart attack.

“What?” she snapped.

One glance at him and the pounding in her head grew. Curse him. It was completely unfair that she looked like something pulled from a pile of trash, while he looked like
that
.

Pure sin standing in the golden light of the sun.

Yesterday he’d been gorgeous, but this morning he was downright devastating in a black T-shirt and faded jeans. Shaved clean of yesterday’s stubble, his chiseled features were highlighted to perfection.

Not in the mood to be reasonable, she glared at him. Some part of her had harbored a tiny shred of hope that she could blame her attraction, and subsequent behavior, on the whiskey.

But, no, he had to go blow that theory straight to hell.

He smirked. “Does someone have a hangover?”

“No,” she said in a loud whisper, shaking her head with vehemence and setting jackhammers off against her temples. “I’m not dressed for company.”

“I heard you scream. What happened?”

For the love of god, must she be tested at every turn? She tilted her chin and said in her most haughty tone, “If you must know, I almost fell down the stairs.”

Faster than a man his size should move, he rounded the stairs and bounded up the steps two at a time, stopping when he stood one below her. Of course, she still had to peer up at him, irritating her further.

“Are you okay?” he asked, those golden eyes warm with concern.

“I’m fine.” She straightened to her full five-three, but still felt small and dowdy next to him.

“You’re not hurt?”

“For God’s sake, I’m fine. It was just a little stumble.”

He chuckled, the deep, rich timbre sending tingles down her spine. “And here I thought you wouldn’t be any fun sober.”

Her mouth fell open, indignation bubbling in her throat, but before she could speak, he held out a plastic grocery bag that she hadn’t seen because she’d been too busy staring at his face. “My neighbor brought you some things she thought you might need.”

Forgetting her momentary agitation and the pounding in her head, she took the bag. “That was very thoughtful.”

Mitch grinned. “Don’t let Gracie fool you—she’s here for gossip.”

Curious, Maddie opened the bag and sighed with pure pleasure. Inside were a variety of female essentials and—Maddie closed her eyes in thanks—clothes. She had clothes! She rummaged around, spotting a toothbrush, toothpaste, a trial-size moisturizer, and face wash. She shifted the contents around, unearthing shampoo and conditioner, and even a miniature bottle of hairspray.

And then, in the bottom of the bag was the best present of all—a pair of flip-flops.

She’d never be stuck in those torturous shoes ever again. Should she set them on fire? Maybe hack them up with a saw? Maybe she’d do both. Or was that overkill?