Cinderella and the Playboy (14 page)

“No, he usually gets dry dog food and the occasional piece of meat, or a big bone to chew.” He reached over and tucked a stray tendril of blond hair behind her ear, his fingers brushing in a slow caress over her cheek. “The vet told me he can occasionally have people food. It won’t hurt him.”

“Oh, good.” She would have said more but an elderly man walked by, followed by a trio of golden retriever puppies and their mother on leashes.

Butch woofed and started to rise.

“Butch.” Chance’s voice was quiet. “Down.”

The rottweiler dropped back to the blanket but he quivered with excitement. The puppies heard him and tugged free of the older gentleman to gambol near, touching noses to Butch’s, crawling and tumbling over the big dog. Their mother was more cautious but friendly.

Annie caught up one of the puppies and hugged the wriggly, warm body close. “Mommy, I want a puppy like this one.”

“Honey, you want a puppy like every one you see,” Jennifer chided her with a smile.

Chance and Jennifer helped the elderly man disentangle the darling puppies from Butch and finally he hobbled off down the path toward the bridge across the pond.

“Can we throw the Frisbee for Butch now?” Annie asked when only crumbs were left on the blanket where they sat.

Stretched out beside the little girl, the big dog lifted his head inquiringly when he heard her say his name.

“Sure,” Chance answered. He looked at Jennifer. “If your mom says it’s okay.”

“Fine with me.” Jennifer smiled fondly as the three left the blanket, Annie darting ahead, Butch trotting
after her, with Chance ambling behind. He’d automatically deferred to her for permission to release Annie to play, she thought, and how nice was that?

“Morning.”

Chance looked up from his desk. His partner, Ted Bonner, stood in the doorway, a steaming cup of coffee in his hand. His hair was mussed as if he’d been running his hands through it. The two had gone to Stanford med school together—Chance recognized the signs of frustration.

“Morning. Come in, close the door and tell me what’s wrong,” he told him.

“What makes you think something’s wrong?” Ted closed the door and strolled into the room, dropping into one of the chairs facing Chance’s desk.

“Your hair and that face.” Chance leaned back in his chair and propped his feet, ankles crossed, on the end of his desk.

Ted gave him a baffled look. “What face?”

“The one under your messed-up hair,” Chance told him, pointing the hand holding his coffee cup. “It looks like you’ve been shoving your hands through it and trying to pull it out.”

“Hell.” Ted grunted and ran his palm over the crown of his head. “Better?”

Chance shrugged. “Now tell me what’s wrong.”

“I’ve heard some bad news,” Ted said gloomily.

“The lab test results on our latest research weren’t what we hoped they’d be?” His mind was already thinking of options if this was the problem. They could try a new theory he’d been working on…. He was beginning to wonder whether the lower percentage of viable pregnancies from the current in vitro procedure might be solved with adding more specific vitamins and minerals to optimize the mother’s health six months prior to conception. The lab tests so far seemed to indicate their current limited specific regimen was working.

“No, they’re fine. Pretty much right on target.”

Chance stared at him. “All…right,” he said slowly, giving Ted time to spill his knowledge without prodding.

“Sara Beth told me a secret audit was conducted at the institute. The results show significant financial problems.”

“Damn.” Chance looked stunned. “Is she sure about this?”

Ted nodded. “Lisa told her about it.”

“Pretty reliable source,” Chance said. Lisa Armstrong wasn’t only a member of the institute’s founding family, she also was the head administrator for
the medical facility. If Lisa had told Ted’s wife, then the story was probably true. “Did Lisa say anything else?”

“Evidently the problems are severe enough that the institute’s financial survival is at stake.”

Chance swore again with feeling. “How could this have happened? I heard the Founder’s Ball was a success at raising funds and donations have increased. What the hell’s going on?”

“It doesn’t seem to add up, does it?” Ted agreed, eyes narrowing in thought.

“No, it doesn’t,” Chance agreed. He thrust his fingers through his hair, raking it back off his forehead. “This comes at a critical point in our research,” he said grimly. “I don’t want to think about what would happen if we had to start all over at another lab.”

“I know,” Ted agreed morosely. “It could set us back months, if not years.”

“I can’t believe how many scandals the institute has been hit with over the past months,” Chance commented. “It’s amazing it hasn’t sunk beneath the weight of bad news.”

Ted nodded as he took a swig of coffee, his mouth grim. “I have to believe it will survive—after all, look how many storms it’s weathered over the years.”

“I hope you’re right.” Chance dropped his feet to
the floor and stood. “In the meantime, I suggest we go down to the lab and take a look at those test results.”

For the rest of the day, Chance immersed himself in the work that both challenged and frustrated both he and Ted. The meticulous lab work from a large group of volunteer patients was time consuming and sometimes tedious but necessary if they were to prove their theory. The opportunity to increase a couple’s chance to conceive and have a healthy baby was worth it to both men.

Later that evening, he headed for Jennifer’s apartment, stopping on the way to pick up a family movie on DVD and a pizza. It didn’t escape his notice that lately, when confronted with problems at work, he instinctively turned to Jennifer.

She opened the door with a smile and he bent to catch her in a quick, hard hug. She slipped her arms around his waist and held him tight for a moment before he released her.

“Is everything okay?” she asked, her warm blue gaze scanning his face.

“Just some problems at work,” he told her. “And now that I’m here, I feel better already.”

“Good.” She caught his hand and drew him into the apartment. “Annie,” she called as she closed the door behind him. “Chance is here.”

“Goodie.” The little girl bounced into the room, eyes lighting when she saw the box he carried. “Pizza!”

Chance grinned, handing her the DVD case to carry. She danced around him, waving the movie over her head, as he carried the pizza to the kitchen table. Jennifer took down plates, glasses and silverware.

“Can we eat in the living room while we watch the movie, Mommy? Please?” Annie pleaded, showing her mother the movie case.

“All right, just this once.”

They transferred pizza slices to plates, filled glasses with ice water and settled on the sofa as the movie credits began to roll. When the plates and glasses were empty, Annie stretched out on the floor, chin on her hand, to watch the movie.

Chance helped Jennifer carry the dinner things into the kitchen and load them into the dishwasher. Just as they finished, the telephone rang.

“Go back and watch the movie,” Jennifer told him. “I’ll join you as soon as I take this call.”

He brushed a kiss against her mouth and walked into the living room, dropping onto the sofa just as Jennifer picked up the phone.

Glancing sideways, he saw her slim body stiffen and her mouth tighten just before she turned her back, murmuring into the phone.

Curiosity piqued, he only half listened to the movie dialogue and still Jennifer’s conversation in the kitchen was inaudible. But her body language was loud and clear.

“Everything okay?” he asked when she joined him on the sofa.

“Fine.” She gave him a brief smile before she tucked her feet beneath her on the cushion.

Chance slipped his arm around her shoulder and eased her back until her shoulders were against his chest, her hair brushing his throat.

He’d wait until Annie was asleep, he decided. But regardless of what Jennifer had said, he knew by her pale face and the worry in her eyes that everything in her world was not “fine.”

Two hours later, Annie was tucked into bed. Chance hit the mute button on the TV control and turned on the sofa to face Jennifer.

“Tell me about the call you got earlier,” he suggested.

Her gaze flew to meet his, her eyes widening.

“You could tell me it was no one, and nothing,” he went on. “But I saw your face after you hung up and I know the call upset you. So, tell me,” he urged. He nudged her backward and lifted her feet into his lap, big hands kneading her stocking-covered feet.

“Umm, that’s positively decadent,” she murmured, half closing her eyes on a deep sigh.

“Yeah, yeah,” he told her. “No changing the subject. Tell me what it was about that phone call the bothered you.”

She opened her eyes and looked at him, her face somber. “It was my ex-husband.”

Chance’s hands stilled, then returned to kneading her instep. “I didn’t know you two were still in touch.”

“We aren’t—at least, we haven’t been since the divorce,” she stated. “But this is the third time I’ve heard from him in the past month.”

“What does he want?” Chance asked, frowning.

“You won’t believe it,” she warned him. “It’s just too ridiculous.”

“Tell me,” he commanded gently.

“Patrick saw the photo of us dancing at the Founder’s Ball. He’s recently finished med school and applied for a position at the institute, and he wants me to ask you to hire him.”

Her words were blunt, straightforward, but without inflection.

“I have the distinct impression that you’re not telling me the whole truth,” Chance said gently, circling his thumb over her arch, just below her toes.

“You’re amazingly good at that,” she sighed, stretching with a moan.

His thumbs stilled, poised motionless over her foot. “You’re avoiding the subject again.”

“All right, all right, I’ll tell you. Please don’t stop rubbing my foot.”

“Fine.” He stroked her arch and she nearly purred. “Tell me the rest of it.”

“He threatened me with Annie.”

“What?” Chance stopped rubbing her foot and leaned over her to grab her shoulders.

“Hey.” Jennifer’s eyes rounded.

“Sorry,” he muttered, easing back a foot and patting her shoulder awkwardly before gently cupping her chin in one hand. “Tell me what he said about Annie.”

“He threatened to take me back to court and sue to get visitation.”

“I thought he voluntarily gave up any rights as her father when you two were divorced?”

“He agreed to leave us alone if I agreed to never ask him for child support,” Jennifer corrected. “I was pregnant when he filed for divorce and he listed our marriage as ‘without children.’”

“What a jerk,” Chance ground out. “Why did you marry the guy? What could have attracted a smart, savvy woman like you to him?”

“You think I’m smart and savvy?” Her smile was brilliant, her eyes meltingly warm.

“Of course I do. And don’t change the subject,” he told her for the third time.

“I was very young and he was very charming. Not a good excuse, obviously, but the truth is that I was naive and fell for the wonderful exterior. My only defense is that I left when I discovered that Patrick’s interior wasn’t so great.” She paused. “But the marriage wasn’t a total loss—because it gave me Annie.”

“It sounds to me like that’s your ex’s one redeeming feature,” he told her. “I thought he’d signed away his parental rights but evidently he never did?”

“No, he didn’t.” Jennifer’s eyes darkened. “Frankly, it never occurred to me that he’d want to exercise his rights as her father. He’s never even seen her—never wanted to. And he doesn’t really want anything to do with her now. He’s just using Annie as a means to force me to cooperate.” Her gaze turned fierce. “Let’s make something clear, Chance. I am
not
asking you to help Patrick get a job at the institute. I don’t know what I’ll do about him threatening Annie but I’m hoping he’ll drop the whole thing when he realizes it won’t get him anywhere.”

“Honey, it never occurred to me that you’d coop
erate with him,” Chance declared. “And neither will I.” He pulled her into his arms, her slim body lying trustingly against his. “I don’t want you to worry about Annie. We’ll figure out a way to stop him. If we need to, I’ll call my family’s legal representatives. They’ve never lost a case for the family yet.”

Jennifer pressed closer. Chance slid his fingers into the silk of her hair and tugged gently, tipping her face up to his.

“No one’s going to threaten you and Annie.” His tone was fierce but the kisses he brushed against the corner of her mouth were gentle, soothing. He felt her sigh and stir against him, her lips seeking his.

A half hour later, they were both aroused, breathing unevenly and too fast, when Chance sighed and pulled Jennifer up from the sofa.

“Unless you’re going to take me to bed, I’d better go home. I only have so much control and I’ve about used up my quota for the night.”

“Chance, I’m not sure…” she began.

He stopped her by laying his finger against her lips, damp from the press of his.

“I know. You’re not ready.” He tucked her against his side and walked to the door. The kiss he gave her before pulling open the door sizzled with heat and
frustrated longing. “Lock the door after me,” he told her as he stepped outside.

“Good night,” she murmured.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he told her. He waited until he heard the locks click shut then moved down the hallway.

Before he reached his car, he’d placed a call on his cell phone to the investigative agency his father used. Assured they would locate Jennifer’s ex-husband by tomorrow morning, Chance drove home, his mind churning with how to remove the man from her life for good.

By the time he reached his town house, he knew exactly how he wanted to proceed.

“Dr. Demetrios, your three-o’clock appointment is here.”

“Send him in.” Chance flicked off the intercom and leaned back in his chair. Except for a thin file and a pen directly in front of him, the polished expanse of mahogany desktop was bare, creating a wide barrier between him and the group of four leather armchairs facing the desk.