A Baby by Chance (23 page)

“Just a minute, you slow ol’ cowpoke,” she teased him naughtily. “I’ve got to see where this leads.”

Cummerbund, trousers, jockey shorts—all fell victim to her gentle ministrations. Hands gripping his thighs, she dropped to the floor in front of him and loved him with her mouth. Thoroughly. Languidly. Until the touch of lips on flesh was electric and he, too, thought he would die from the pleasure of it. Shuddering with the effort it was costing him to restrain his desire, he scooped her up and shifted her beneath him. His hands swept down her body. To their mutual pleasure, he found her even more wet and welcoming than before.

“Oh, Chance, I want you,” Madison whispered, parting her thighs.
Not just now, but forever.

“I know.” His body trembling, Chance lowered himself over her. “I want you, too,” he whispered, knowing that right here, right now, was everything he had ever dreamed of. He just had to find a way not to let it slip out of his grasp, he thought, as he kissed her long and hard and deep. “More than you could ever know.”

Madison bent her knees. Her back arching in anticipation of their joining, she closed her hands around his velvety hardness and guided him closer. “Now.”

“Like this?” He lifted her and touched her with the tip of his manhood in the most intimate way.

“Yes,” Madison gasped as he braced himself above her, his hardness a wonderful counterpoint to her softness, his strength to her vulnerability. “Just like this.”

With one bold but gentle thrust he sheathed himself in her satiny warmth, then stroked, tantalized, took. Until for the first and only time in his life, he felt he’d given a part of himself that could never be reclaimed.

* * *

H
OURS LATER
, M
ADISON
cuddled against Chance in drowsy contentment, her arms and legs tangled with his, her head resting on the hair-whorled warmth of his chest. In the two hours that had passed, they’d made love three times—first playfully and passionately, then softly, with exquisite tenderness. The third time had been excruciatingly slow and abandoned. Each time the wonder and excitement they shared were surpassed only by a feeling of safety and contentment. Madison knew—even if she didn’t want to admit it—that Chance was right. She was going to want him for the rest of her life. And he was going to want her. Nothing, and no one, not even the demands of their careers, the separateness of their daily lives, would change that. The only question was, where did they go from here? And how much longer before they had to decide?

* * *

“H
EY THERE
! Mr. Cartwright!” Shawna Somersby waved her arms wildly and trotted after him, the soles of her clunky Doc Martens making clouds of dust as she raced across the yard to catch up with him near the stables.

“I told you,” Chance said to the summer intern who had been following Madison around doing her bidding, “you can call me Chance.”

“Okay,” Shawna said eagerly. “Chance.” She took a deep breath as she opened the manila folder in her hand. “Have you seen Madison?”

“She’s inside the house, talking to Vince, Ursula and Ed.”

Shawna nodded. She rustled through the papers in the file. “I’ll just go ahead and give you your copy now.”

“My copy of what?” Chance asked.

Usually they just told him what to do—he didn’t have to read the choreographed descriptions of the scenes they were filming.

“Your schedule of events.” Smiling efficiently, Shawna produced a stack of papers held together with a clip.

Chance’s brow furrowed as he struggled to figure out what she was talking about. What events? “For the filming?” he asked, putting down the feed bucket in his hand and taking the papers she gave him.

Shawna shook her head. “For the promotion.”

“What promotion?” Chance echoed. He gave her a blank look and waited for her to clue him in.

Shawna smiled at him with brisk efficiency. “You know. The list of trade shows you’ll be appearing at next fall.” She pointed at the neatly typed pages in his hand. “As you can see, it’s mostly weekends—Friday through Sunday—that you’ll be appearing along with the Ranchero trucks.”

She was speaking as if it were a done deal. His mood grim, Chance thumbed through the pages. “I never agreed to this.”

Shawna paled. “Sure you did,” the young intern retorted, beginning to look a little panicked. “Madison told everyone she’d take care of it.”

Chance stared at Shawna, unable to recall when he’d felt so damn duped.

Flushing, Shawna studied Chance. “You’re telling me that Madison didn’t discuss this with you?”

“Not yet.” Chance clamped his lips together. He felt as if he was going to explode. He had to fight to stay in control as he folded the pages and shoved them in the back pocket of his jeans. “But we’re going to—ASAP.”

Chance strode in the direction of the house. Everyone was filing out after the impromptu meeting. Madison was taking up the rear with Ed Connelly. She looked pretty and at ease.

Ignoring Madison’s boss, Chance advanced on her purposefully and cut her off at the steps. A thick silence fell over the group as he tipped his hat back and blocked her way. “I want a word with you,” he growled. “Now.”

* * *

M
ADISON HAD NO IDEA
what burr had gotten under his saddle, but she was not about to be treated like the woman who had wronged him in front of her coworkers.

Ignoring the gaping looks of the others, she said as smoothly as possible, “In a minute.”

“Now, Miss Burnes.”

Madison could only stare, stunned, at the hard lines bracketing either side of Chance’s mouth.

“She’ll be with the rest of you shortly,” Chance said over his shoulder, effectively dismissing the others.

He took her by the arm and escorted her into the house. He shut the door behind them, then leaned against the jamb, crossing his arms.

Madison had no earthly idea what was going on, but she felt she had suffered enough drama for one morning. “Do you mind telling me what’s going on?” she asked icily.

Chance narrowed his eyes at her. “Funny, I think that’s my line.”

Madison had never been the target of such undisguised fury. She rested her hips against the back of the sofa and struggled to remain calm. “What are you talking about?”

Chance whipped some papers from his back pocket and shoved them at her.

Madison shot him another peeved look, then glanced down. The second she realized what it was he had, she felt all the blood drain from her face. She let out a low string of swear words.

“My thoughts exactly,” Chance said, sneering. “When were you planning to tell me?”

“I—” Madison’s voice was barely above a whisper. “This wasn’t supposed to happen.” Dread slithered down her spine.

Chance quirked a disbelieving brow. He drew so close his arm brushed hers. She could smell the fury on him as surely as the spicy fragrance of his aftershave. His lips were pale with suppressed rage. “I wasn’t supposed to be told yet? Or the events weren’t supposed to be scheduled?”

Madison pressed a trembling hand to her forehead. Drawing a steadying breath, she mustered all her courage and looked him squarely in the eye. “Of course the trade shows are scheduled. Those shows happen every year, and the AMV Corporation, along with every other car and truck manufacturer in the United States, puts in an appearance.”

He gazed at her, but his eyes revealed none of his thoughts. “So it’s just me who wasn’t to be told,” he said in a sarcastic tone that held an edge of menace. Chance braced a hand on either side of her and leaned in close, trapping her between the back of the sofa and him. “Tell me, Madison, when was going to be a good time to lay all this on me?” he said, the heat of his palms burning into her sides. “After we made love again?”

He was standing so close she had to tilt her head to see his face. Feeling as if all the air had been sucked from her lungs, Madison glared at him. She was willing to discuss this calmly. She was not willing to trade accusations. She flattened her hands on his chest and shoved. He went exactly nowhere. Expecting to be able to move him when he didn’t want to be moved in the slightest was like asking an ant to shift a tractor trailer.

Refusing to back down even if she couldn’t manage to put any more physical distance between them, Madison clenched her teeth and instructed calmly, “Stop it.”

Chance clamped his hands around her wrists and forced them to her sides.

“Why? That’s the truth, isn’t it?” His eyes raked her with contempt, and the menace in his soft drawl made her want to cringe. “You thought I’d be easier to manipulate after we hit the hay.”

If only it were that simple, Madison thought miserably, all too aware there were a lot of people outside waiting on the two of them, wondering just what in Sam Hill was up between them. She decided it was better not to discuss sleeping together under the circumstances. “You’re not an easy man to deal with, Chance Cartwright. Never have been and never will be.”

Chance glanced at the papers she held in one fist. “So you’re denying you had any knowledge of this?” he said.

Madison gulped. Like it or not, it was time to tell the truth. Even if it infuriated the heck out of him. “I knew they wanted you to do it.”

“And you were supposed to talk me into it, right?”

She regarded his handsome features warily. “That was the plan.”

“Only you hadn’t gotten around to it yet,” Chance guessed.

That part was her fault, Madison knew. She lifted her shoulders in a delicate little shrug. “I knew it was going to be difficult.”

“But you were determined to do it anyway—when the time was right.”

“That’s my job!”

“I see. Is that why you went all out in the lovemaking department, then, to help facilitate your plan? Make things a little easier to schmooze me? I mean, it was obvious the bourbon, a good cigar and steak dinner routine didn’t work!”

“You know I’m not like that!” Madison retorted.

His expression said he knew nothing of the sort. Chance studied her until she felt sure her legs would no longer hold her. “You know I don’t want to do this.”

Madison nodded. “Yes.” He had said as much in Dallas when he agreed to do the commercials.

“Are you going to tell the AMV Corporation that? And get this killed?”

Madison hesitated. Now came the tricky part. “No,” she said finally. “I’m not.”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s my job to see that the client is happy. And this is what the client wants. Personal appearances from you on behalf of the truck. A testimonial, if you will, of how great a vehicle you think it will be for ranching, pleasure, work, you name it.” There, she’d said it, she’d made the pitch.

Chance let her go as swiftly as if she had burned him. He backed away from her. “You don’t see anything wrong with this picture?”

“I’m sorry you found out this way.” And that was the honest truth.

He studied her, then asked in a tone that warned of simmering anger, “How would I have found out, if it had been up to you?”

“I would have talked to you about it over lunch or dinner, probably in a day or so.”

“I see.” Chance whirled away from her and stalked out of the house. He headed down the steps, marched across the yard and into the stable. Holding up a hand that instructed others to back off and not interrupt, Madison dashed after him.

By the time she caught up with him he was busy tossing a saddle on Shiloh. “What are you doing?” Madison demanded.

Wordlessly, Chance took Madison by the shoulders and guided her into the tack room, well out of harm’s way. He stalked across the aisle, grabbed the reins and led Shiloh out of the stall and through the stables.

“Where are you going?” Madison asked, not sure whether to cry or stamp her foot, knowing she wanted to do both.

“As far away from you as possible!” Chance said. As soon as he’d cleared the barn, he swung himself into the saddle and took off. Seconds later, he was cantering across the meadow. Ursula and Ed came storming to Madison’s side.

“What the heck is going on?” Ed demanded, incensed. Within seconds, Vince Smith and his entire entourage had joined them. “We’re supposed to start filming here in five minutes!” Ed said.

“I know,” Madison replied.

“What did you say to him?” Ursula demanded.

“Obviously not enough,” Madison muttered.

* * *

C
HANCE HEARD
THE
Ranchero’s engine coming up behind him. He turned, incensed to see Madison driving along the adjacent ranch road. He turned Shiloh toward the mountains. She followed, taking the four-wheel drive off-road.

Swearing profusely, Chance brought his horse to a stop and waited for her to catch up. When she did, he dismounted, leaving the increasingly reliable black stallion a good fifteen feet away from the Ranchero. He jammed his hat lower across his brow and strode toward her. “What in blue blazes do you think you’re doing now?” he demanded angrily. He didn’t know whether to shake her or kiss her. He knew he wanted to do both.

Madison shut off the ignition and got out of the cab. She glided toward him, her actions as graceful and elegant as his were quick and deliberate. “I’m here to talk some sense into you.”

Chance struggled for patience. “We’ve said everything we have to say to each other.”

“No, Chance—” Madison held her head proudly as her green eyes found and held his “—we haven’t. I’m sorry.” She put up a delicate hand before he could interrupt. Her pretty chin lifted another notch. “I never meant for you to find out about the trade shows this way.” As she continued to look at him, a faint smile curved lips that were soft as silk. “I’m not going to say I wouldn’t have tried my damnedest to talk you into it,” she admitted wryly, with the kind of honesty and directness she had wanted from him all along, “but I never would have gone behind your back and arranged for you to make personal appearances at the trade shows without consulting you first.”

Chance braced one leather-gloved hand on his waist. He drew a long breath. “Then why did you?”

“I didn’t.”

A pulse throbbed in his neck. He wanted to curse her as pungently as he was cursing himself. He had known from the start that taking this commercial on was a mistake, but he’d done it because he wanted to be close to her and because he wanted Lost Springs to have more money than he could afford to give.