Take A Chance On Me (3 page)

“Why not?”

She studied him for fifteen long seconds. Head tilted to one side, lips pursed in concentration. Suddenly, her face brightened and she waved a hand through the air. “Never mind, you don’t have to answer. After all, who am I to question crazy decisions?” She pulled at the skirt of her wedding dress, the pristine white ruined by smudges of dirt and a long ragged tear. “I climbed out of a church window and in less than twelve hours I’m shamelessly flirting with the first guy I happen across.”

“Life’s got an interesting sense of humor.” He was relaxing now that she’d decided to drop the subject.

A long, put-upon sigh. “Isn’t that the truth? Clearly, I’m being tested.”

Curious, he asked, “And are you passing?”

Another adorable pout. “I don’t think so.”

That mouth looked like she’d just eaten a bowl of strawberries and the juices had stained her lips. He wanted to bite her. Lick her to see if she tasted as sweet as she looked.

She got all squinty, another pretzel firmly in hand. “I’m drunk.”

Unfortunately. “I don’t doubt that.”

Her gaze caught his. Darted away. Her pink tongue flitted out to wet her full lower lip. It glistened like an invitation. “I’d leave, but I can’t walk. My feet hurt.”

“I wouldn’t let you go, anyway.” He was a little taken aback to find the words true. It had been a long time since he’d wanted anything, but he still recognized the spark of desire. He wanted her, and wasn’t ready for her to walk off into the sunset yet. The right or wrong of the situation didn’t much matter.

She swirled a finger over the edge of her ice water. “Do you think you could stop me?

He cocked a brow and gave her a once-over. “Considering the way you hobbled in here, I think I can take you.”

Dark lashes almost obscured the green of her irises as she squinted. “I’m supposed to be getting independent now.”

“I see,” he said, considering the guy she’d ditched at the altar for the first time. It took a lot to drive a woman out a church window with nothing but the clothes on her back. “Everyone needs a little rescue sometime.”

“You’re not one of those knight-in-shining-armor guys, are you?” She said the words as if they were foul.

“Not normally, but I’m making an exception for you.” He was surprised to find he wanted the role, despite her distain.

“I don’t want an exception.” Her tone had taken on a decided wail.

“Too bad.” Yep, he wasn’t budging on this one. She wanted to stand on her own two feet. He understood, but it only made him more determined.

“Why me?”

“Because I want to.” It was that simple. Besides, she’d probably take off in the morning and he’d never see her again. One night to break the monotony wouldn’t hurt. Before she could respond, he turned and walked the length of the bar. Flipping open the counter, he rounded the corner, striding to stand in front of her. “It’s been a long time since I’ve done anything chivalrous. Won’t you let me?”

Even white teeth nibbled on her bottom lip and he curled his hand into a fist to keep from stroking his thumb over the abused, moist flesh. Glassy, pensive eyes blinked up at him.

He stepped close enough to feel the warmth of her skin. “What kind of a man would I be if I left you stranded?”

“I’m sure I’ll be fine.” But her voice quivered, giving away her doubts.

The last thing he should do was touch her, but he did anyway, trailing a finger along the line of her jaw. “Come to my office. You can lie down on the couch and get off your feet. Give yourself some time to think about your options.”

She sucked in a shaky breath. “Are you going to take advantage of me?”

“Maybe later, after the whiskey has worn off.” He brushed the veil away from her face, pushing the tulle from her shoulders. He wanted to rescue her, but had no intention of deluding her into thinking he was a saint.

“Now’s the time I’m supposed to say something proper, right? Like, ‘I’m sorry but I’m off to join the convent’?”

“That would be a waste.” He stroked over the curve of her shoulder.

She shivered under the tips of his fingers. “I was getting married today.”

And he really should care, but he didn’t. Not even a little bit. He leaned down so his mouth hovered next to her ear. “The dress gave you away.”

She pulled in a great lungful of air. “Are you trying to seduce me?”

“Nope.” He straightened and looked into those big, wide eyes. “Just making sure you’re clear my intentions aren’t one-hundred-percent honorable. Are you going to come with me?”

She scrutinized him for a full thirty seconds, then nodded so slightly that he couldn’t be sure he hadn’t imagined it until she hopped off the stool.

The second her feet hit the ground, her face contorted into a grimace. “Ouch!” She threw out her hands, using his body to catch herself as she swayed, giggling. The alcohol she’d consumed was surely rushing to her head. “I guess you were right about those shots.”

He slid his arms around her waist, wishing for skin instead of the scratchy beads. “I usually am.”

“Aren’t you modest?” Cheek resting against his chest, she sighed.

The sound was so content that it warmed some of the ice inside him. It had been a long time since a woman had rested against him, and Maddie Donovan felt particularly good.

Over her head, Sam caught his gaze, mouth quirked in a sardonic smirk.

Mitch ignored the smug bastard as she cuddled into his arms like a newborn kitten. Next to Mitch’s six-three height, she was tiny and delicate in his arms. The smell of honey and almonds wafting from her hair enveloped him. Absolutely delicious.

Nails tickled his back through the cotton of his T-shirt as she wound herself around him. “You feel awesome.” She must have put her earlier misgivings to rest.

Damn, he’d always been good at crafting a compelling argument. He smiled. “Do I need to carry you?”

“You have no idea how much I want to say yes.” She pulled away, standing straight. Mitch wanted to snatch her back, but resisted when she squared her small shoulders. “But I’ve already pissed off the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost today. It might be best not to push my luck.”

A deep rumble of laughter shook his chest. With one finger, he tilted her chin. “Let me guess, you’re Catholic?”

Her expression went wide. “Hey, how’d you know?”

She had no clue how irresistible she was. He tucked a lock of auburn hair behind her ear. “Just a wild stab in the dark, Princess.”

Chapter Three

The whiskey and Mitch’s intoxicating scent made Maddie’s head spin.

She placed a hand on her forehead, closing her eyes for a moment and hoping to get her bearings. What was she doing alone in some decrepit back office with a man she hardly knew? Obviously, her sanity had escaped with her out the church window and run off in another direction.

The right thing would have been to say, “No, absolutely not.” The proper thing would have been to call a cab, thank him for his hospitality and excellent flirting, and be on her way. She would have done all those things, too, except his big, capable hands had stroked over her skin and she’d forgotten about anything other than how strong and safe he felt. When those burnished-gold eyes peered into hers, warming her, hell had simply seemed worth it.

She shifted, trying to find a comfortable spot on the lumpy tan couch. The office décor was a messy mishmash of thrown-together thrift-store rejects, and the uncomfortable sofa fit right in. She squirmed, settling when she finally found a spot without a spring gouging her backside. She folded her hands in her lap.

Was she really doing anything wrong? She was resting. That was all.

It wasn’t like she’d agreed to hot, dirty sex.

Mitch moved, drawing her attention. In the yellow glow of a lamp that looked as though it had been taken from a Dumpster, she watched him as he arranged heaps of the wedding dress, which was overflowing into every inch of available space.

When he’d first confessed his former profession and Ivy League education, she’d been shocked. After all, how could she have guessed when he looked like some rogue golden god crossed with a Hell’s Angel? But now, watching him unobserved, she saw hints of his past in his strong features, caught a glimpse in the hard set of his jaw.

Since investigating the mystery of Mitch was far more intriguing than delving into the motives that had made her climb out a church window, she asked, “What kind of lawyer were you?”

His expression flickered, and Maddie didn’t miss the whitening of knuckles on the fistful of satin he held. The lines around his mouth tightened before his lips curled into a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I was a criminal defense lawyer.”

Yes, she had no problem picturing him in front of a jury. He had the powerful presence, intensity, and charm to command a courtroom. Treading lightly, she said in an easy tone, “That must have been exciting.”

With the skirts of her dress still clutched in his grip, he shrugged. “I defended rich, powerful assholes and sent them back into society. There wasn’t anything exciting about it.”

Rich, powerful clients tended to produce rich, powerful attorneys, and a million questions sprang to mind. As curious as she was, his past was plainly a bitter subject, and Maddie decided to drop it. It wasn’t any of her business. Besides, if she pressed, he might press back, and the last thing she wanted was to explain what she didn’t herself understand. She nodded at the dress. “It’s awful, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” he said, almost absently. Then his gaze flicked to her. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be, I hate it. If I had anything else to wear, I’d burn it.”

Confusion replaced the tension in his features as the white fabric fell from his now relaxed grip. “If you hate it, then why did you pick it?”

The day in the bridal shop came back to her with a fresh stab of resentment that surprised her. She’d stood on a round platform, head over heels in love with a white satin slip dress that slid deliciously over her body. Her best friends, Penelope and Sophie, had gushed excitedly behind her. It had been “the one.” Captivated by her image, she’d been sold. Then she’d glanced in the mirror. There’d been disapproval on the faces of her mom and Steve, and all her excitement deflated. She’d stepped off the platform and quietly gone back to the dressing room, resigned to pick their favorite. In the end, there’d been no other choice. She’d owed them too much to disappoint them.

Throat clogging, she shook away the memory. She was in the dangerous limbo phase of her buzz, where emotions threatened to rise and take over. She wouldn’t think about that anymore. Besides, it didn’t matter now.

She plastered a smile on her face and waved a hand at Mitch. “Haven’t you heard? Brides are crazy.”

His eyes narrowed, and the set of his jaw made it clear he didn’t buy her dismissal. “Want to talk about it?”

“Nope.” She looked over his shoulder, away from him. It was odd. She’d been praying for someone to notice her distress, to
see
her, but as Mitch Riley watched her with those intense, knowing eyes, she wished she could curl into a ball and disappear.

If only she could strip off this stupid dress, stand under a hot shower, and scrub this day away. She blew out an exasperated breath. “God, you have no idea how much I want out of this torture device. You don’t happen to have a spare set of women’s clothes lying around, do you?”

“Sorry, Princess, you’re out of luck.” He pushed aside a heap of fabric and helped himself to a seat on the couch next to her knees.

She pressed her legs against the cushions and tried not to think about how good those hard muscles felt against hers. Wanting to recapture the light flirtation in the bar and to forget about the past weighing her down, she said, “I thought guys like you stripped enough women out of their clothes that they would have left a few stragglers behind.”

His expression transformed from thoughtful to heated as he ran his fingers over the back of her hand. “I don’t bring women in here. And I don’t bring them home. But I’m making another exception for you.”

Throat drying up like a desert, she swallowed hard. For the past hour, she’d reminded herself—almost pathologically—that she had been supposed to get married today. But the normal strategies she employed to stay responsible and good kept short-circuiting in her brain. Fizzling out before she could muster any real moral fiber.

She wished she could blame the shots. Or that he was irresistibly gorgeous, with a body designed for sin. Or even something noble, like his quick wit and intelligence.

But she couldn’t blame any of those things.

It was the way he looked at her, like he really saw
her
.

She drew her hand back before his touch hypnotized her. “I should go to a hotel.”

His gaze dropped to her lips for a moment. Darkened. “Do you have any money?”

Only the change from the fifty tucked in her purse: not nearly enough. Too bad she was drunk enough to be dumb, but not enough to be stupid. She shook her head.

“Where do you plan on sleeping?” His voice had deepened to match the sudden heat in the small room, and thickness coated the air.

Powerful thighs pressed close enough for her to feel his hard muscles beneath the jeans he wore. Her breath did a little stutter. Was this seduction? The better question was, did she want to find out?

She clasped her hands and attempted to concentrate through her alcoholic haze. She had no money, no clothes, and no car. What options did she have?

The smart, safe, and obvious choice was to call her oldest brother. Once Shane found out where she was, she’d be rescued by the time she hung up the phone. One call and she’d be tucked into her childhood bed before the break of dawn. The thought made her want to heave up her shots.

No. Not an option.

The dangerous choice sat right next to her, watching her with a focus that made her want to squirm. It would be so easy to take what he offered, but really, wasn’t that another rescue?

Was that so bad?

It saved her from crawling back to her family, proving she couldn’t even last one night on her own. Rescue, along with getting drunk, had been her only thought as she’d walked through the night, following the red
BAR
sign like it was the North Star.

So why couldn’t she stomach the thought now?

She breathed out a long sigh that felt like it came from the tips of her toes. That left one other option. She raised her chin. “I’ll call a cab and go to my car. I’ll sleep there for the night and figure out what to do in the light of day.”

He’d started shaking his head about halfway through her proclamation and hadn’t stopped. “Do you honestly think I’m going to let you sleep in a car abandoned in some ditch on the side of the highway?”

She scowled, hackles rising. “There’s no
letting
me. I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself.”
I think. No, screw that. I know
.

“Hey,” he said, voice soft. He wrapped his fingers around her wrist and, when she tried to yank away, held tight. “I know you can. You’ve already proven yourself.”

Her frown deepening, she cast a suspicious glance in his direction. She was stuck in the middle of nowhere with no resources. Any idiot could see that. “I’ve proven nothing other than I can land myself in a huge mess.”

One brow rose. “Oh? How long did you walk tonight? By yourself, in the dark?”

“I didn’t have a choice, and I don’t have a choice now.”

“There are always choices, Maddie. Don’t forget, you made a hell of a big one today.”

“That doesn’t count,” she said, voice rising.
Temper, temper, Maddie
. She shook the voice away. “I know my options, and I’m going back to my car.”

He studied her. Summing her up like the lawyer he used to be. “I don’t want to ask, but I’m going to anyway. Why don’t you want to call your family?”

“Because I don’t want to.” The words shot out of her mouth, surprising her with their force.

“What about friends?”

Penelope and Sophie would walk through fire for her, but they weren’t an option, at least not tonight. “They’re probably at my mom’s house, consoling my family.”

He scrubbed a hand over his stubbled jaw. “Won’t they be worried?”

“I’m sure they are,” she said. Her voice had taken on an edge that she hoped would pass for determined, but she feared that it bordered on petulance. “But I’m not calling them. I wrote a note and stole my own car from the parking lot, so it’s not like they’ll think I’ve been kidnapped.”

“What did you do, hotwire the thing?” Amusement was plain in the deep tone of his voice.

“If you must know, I have three extremely overprotective older brothers, a worrywart mother, and a . . .” She paused, trying out the words in her mind and deciding she wanted to own them. “. . . suffocating
ex
-fiancé. They insisted I have one of those industrial-strength, military-grade, combination-lock hideaway keys. My uncle brought my car to the church because his was in the shop. So really, it’s their fault this happened.”

That was the moment she’d known she was going to run.

Surrounded by the smell of gardenias that made her want to gag, she’d pushed her bridesmaids out the door, begging for a few minutes of peace and quiet. She’d gone over to the window, desperate for the smell of fresh air, and there sat her little Honda. The cherry red of the car had glowed in the sun like a gift from heaven. A sudden, almost reverent calm descended on her. It had felt like peace: a feeling so foreign to her that it had taken a moment to recognize it.

Mitch laughed, pulling her away from those last minutes in the church and back to the temptation sitting next to her.

“Princess, you really are something,” he said, still chuckling. “Okay, back to your current options. Tomorrow, you’re going to be in the same situation you are tonight. So how will sleeping in your car help?”

“I don’t know yet, but I’m not calling them.” Every time she said the words, her conviction became stronger, and that damn knot in her chest loosened.

He shifted on the couch, his grip loosening. “Did something bad happen? I mean, other than climbing out the window?”

“No. What do you mean?” This conversation was making her head hurt and ruining a very fine buzz. She wanted to be back out front, where teasing flirtation ruled the day.

He shrugged, his thumb stroking over the fine bones of her wrist. “I don’t know, I thought maybe you caught the groom with a bridesmaid or something.”

“I only wish,” she blurted, then froze. What was she saying? She wished Steve had cheated on her? She cleared her throat. “Wait. That didn’t sound right. I only meant I don’t have a good excuse.”

“You had the best excuse, Maddie.” Sympathy warmed his eyes, and she wanted the charming, dangerous rogue back. Danger was better than this . . . this . . . concern.

“I don’t want to talk about this.” Her words snapped through the air like a whip. “I’m not calling.”

“All right,” he said, gentle tone matching the light brush of fingers against the flesh of her inner wrist. “I only asked to make sure nothing traumatic happened.” A slow smile slid over his lips. “Since I don’t want anything getting in the way when I make my move.”

“Oh,” she said, dumbly. “I thought you wanted to rescue me.”

He laughed, and some of her agitation drained away. “And why do you think I want to do that? Out of the goodness of my heart?”

“Well, yes.” The tension twisting in her belly eased with every passing second.

“No. Not even close.” He raised their joined hands. Turning her palm over, he pressed a kiss to the center, his tongue flicking briefly over the sensitive skin. That tiny lick spread everywhere, from the top of her head to the tips of her toes and all the wanton places in between. No other man had touched her like this, and she didn’t know if she wanted to run screaming from the room or lunge for him.

With her mind a complete blank, she could only stare at him like a deer caught in headlights.

“I can see you’re a woman who appreciates the bottom line, so I’ll put this in the clearest terms possible. I won’t insult your intelligence by pretending I don’t want to take you home and lick you until you scream, because I absolutely do. But I have no intention of taking advantage of you while you’ve been drinking, so you’re safe tonight. I want you conscious, level-headed, and willing when we go down that road.”