Second Chance Read online

  That scar…she thought she remembered his dad talking about Daniel’s face being lacerated by shrapnel.

  Did his secrets have anything to do with his many missions overseas?

  She ran the rag over the faucet, the inside of the sink. “Did you always want to be in the military?” Wait. She had to stop asking him such personal questions. Nowhere in her Make Daniel Go Bye-Bye plan did she get to know him better.

  “As a little boy, I ruthlessly and relentlessly led my toys into war. Stuffed animals against action figures. I’d be working my way to general if my dad’s health hadn’t deteriorated.”

  Her heart melted as she pictured little Daniel commanding his furry or plastic troops. She’d played with Barbies, sending them into rainstorms and tornadoes—the washing machine and the dryer.

  Red alert! Softening toward him…

  Okay, time to move the conversation along. “Now you run a security firm?” She exchanged the glass cleaner for bleach, a toilet brush and a pair of latex gloves.

  “Yes. With my friends Jude and Brock—have you met them? Good guys. They’ve been in town for a while.”

  “I’ve heard of them but haven’t officially met them.” She spent most of her time here. When she did get out, she tended to keep her head down.

  “We do security for companies and individuals, setting up cameras, running background checks, offering cyber and even physical protection. We’re full-service. We have offices in Oklahoma City as well, headed by former army rangers.”

  So young, so successful. Like the women he preferred to date. “You guys are providing security for the spring festival, I hear. Though you probably should have declined. Half the women in town will end up catfighting just to get your attention.” And she wasn’t jealous about that. Nope. Not even a little.

  He snorted. “You have more faith in my appeal than I do.”

  “Yes, well, I’m most excited about the food trucks.” Everything from fried ice cream to fried butter. “I always allow myself a treat.”

  Now he frowned. “Only one?”

  How had he locked on the singular? She soooo did not want to discuss her weight, but he’d asked a question and she needed to reply. “I’m on a diet,” she muttered, and offered no more. She’d been on a diet for over a decade.

  Some days she dreamed of being trapped inside a candy store and never coming out. Oh, to die buried in a pile of M&Ms.

  “Why?” His gaze slid down, down her body and heated with…awareness and admiration? Her kryptonite. “I believe I mentioned the beauty of your curves.”

  Maybe he believed those words. Maybe she was attractive in his eyes. But he would never be proud to date her. He would never want anything more than a lay or two.

  “I think we’ve gotten to know each other well enough to prove our incompatibility.” With all the dignity she could muster, she pulled on the gloves and knelt in front of the toilet. “Please leave.”

  CHAPTER SIX

  ANOTHER FAILURE. DANIEL wanted to punch a wall. Then he’d have to repair the hole he left behind, an excuse to spend more time with Dorothea. If she didn’t run away from the maniac who’d thrown a temper tantrum.

  But what else was he supposed to do? The woman with lips made for kissing continued to turn him down flat.

  Forget playing chase for a few weeks. He would much rather have this woman in his bed, screaming “Yes, yes. Please, Daniel, please.” Now and later.

  Not only because she made him laugh. Somehow affection overshadowed his memories of war every time he neared her. She intoxicated him. I’m already an addict. She made him want to give more than he took.

  Today, as he’d once again watched Thea dance while she cleaned, molten desire had consumed him, burning any lingering reluctance to ash, leaving him raw, agonized…vulnerable.

  She was like a priceless piece of art. The more he studied her, the more mysteries he uncovered—and the deeper depths his fascination reached.

  He loved that she painted her nails to match her mood; he planned to buy her a new shade ASAP. Something to represent passion.

  “Leave?” he finally said, his voice low. What’d a guy have to do to break through her defenses? “When I’m far from satisfied?”

  The most spectacular shade of pink bloomed on her cheeks. Screw yellow, I like pink. His fingers itched to touch her, to find out how warm her skin had become…to discover just how far the flush had spread.

  Keeping her back to him, she said, “Bad weather will hit in an hour or two. Go home, Daniel. I’m tripling room rates tonight.”

  “Does the triple rate come with cuddle time?”

  Slowly she craned her head around to meet his gaze, and it was like something out of a horror movie. Scary as hell. And yet for some reason it made him want to smile.

  “No cuddles,” she said, “but I can make sure your stay comes with a knee-to-crotch introduction.”

  Do not laugh. “Yeah, baby. Talk dirty to me. Filthy.”

  A giggle bubbled from her. Then she sucked in a breath, as if shocked by her amusement.

  He stared at her, riveted by the sight of her glowing features, as addicted to the sight of her as he was to, hell, everything else about her. Arousal had simmered inside him all day. No, since she’d flashed him. Seeing her like this pushed him over the edge. He ached. He burned, and he shook.

  Somehow, just kneeling there, she was hotter and more inherently female than any woman he’d ever met.

  He balled his hands to prevent himself from doing something stupid, like reaching for her before she was ready. Her eyes were like open wounds right now, filled with uncertainty and fear.

  Did she fear her feelings for him, or did she just fear him? The things he was capable of… She must have heard rumors.

  “You really want me to go?” Ask me to stay. Please.

  She licked those porn-star lips, her pretty tongue leaving a glistening sheen of moisture behind. With her wealth of dark curls pinned to the crown of her head, he had a perfect view of her elegant neck. At the base, a pulse hammered wildly, a match to his. Desire like this…he’d never before experienced it. This was all-consuming. A fire in his bones. A drug in his veins. He was quickly becoming obsessed.

  “Yes,” she finally whispered. A croak. “Go.”

  The rejection was a brass knuckle punch of disappointment to the stomach. For the first time in…ever, he resented the need to chase a woman. He would rather have Thea in his arms, his mouth pressed against hers, his hands exploring her luscious body…her legs wrapped around his waist.

  He should kick his own ass for sending her away the night she’d shown up at his door. What could he do to make her willing again? Eager? To make her warm, sweet and languid.

  The moment she agreed, he would carry her to bed, and he wouldn’t allow her to leave until she writhed with desire, the way she did in his dreams.

  He still wasn’t able to sleep, but at least he now enjoyed the hours he spent lost in his head.

  “I’ll be back,” he told her. And this, he decided, was the last time he would allow either of them to retreat. “I won’t give up on you. Or us.” He walked backward, keeping her baby-doll features in his sights until the last possible moment. In her eyes, hope and longing replaced the uncertainty and fear. Did she want to be chased?

  I can chase the hell out of her.

  No man gave better chase.

  But first, he needed a plan. To plan, he needed more information. Who better to help him than Jessie Kay?

  He texted the feisty blonde and, after buying glittery white nail polish for Thea—the new representative for passion—met Jessie Kay at Lazy Susan, an old train car that had been transformed into a Victorian teahouse. The walls were paneled with royal blue velvet and cherry woodwork, and from the ceiling hung a crystal chandeli
er. Stained glass windows filled the cart with colored prisms of light.

  Lazy Susan wasn’t located in Strawberry Valley. None of the patrons cared about what he or Jessie Kay said.

  She sat at a table in back, eating from multiple platters of food. Beside her, two cups of coffee steamed.

  He kissed her cheek and slid into his chair. “Do you know Thea Mathis?” he asked, treading carefully.

  Jessie Kay blinked at him as she buttered a piece of toast, her brow creased. The beautiful blue-eyed blonde had the sassiest mouth in the South—not counting Thea—and had once been touted as Strawberry Valley’s wildest wild child. “Who?”

  “Dorothea. Formerly Dottie,” he said. “But do not, under any circumstances, call her Dottie. In fact, wipe the nickname from your mind. Call her Dorothea.” She hated her childhood nickname, so he would put an immediate end to its use.

  “Why can’t I call her Thea? And why do you care what I call—”

  “Because I do.” Thea was his nickname for her. His alone. “And because she’s…my friend.” Not that she would agree. Yet.

  “Whoa.” Jessie Kay held out her hand, palm up. “Let’s backtrack a little. We’re talking about the freckled girl from the inn, yes?”

  He gave a single, curt nod, not liking that she’d reduced Thea to “the freckled girl from the inn.”

  As slow as molasses, she set her toast on a plate. “If you’re asking ’cause you’re planning on nailing her, I’m gonna knock your testicles into your throat. I like her, and I don’t want her hurt.”

  “For your information, I like her, too.” He shook a blueberry muffin over her head, smiling as the crumbs settled in her hair. “Why would you want to hurt my testicles, anyway? You’d deprive everyone of my manly prowess.”

  “Manly prowess?” She rolled her eyes. “I’ve seen the way she looks at you. You date and dump her, and you’ll devastate her. And since I’m the patron saint of mending broken hearts and breaking callous MARTS, I will—”

  “Marts?” he interjected, even as he reeled. Other people had noticed the way Thea looked at him? The want and need hadn’t been wishful thinking on his part?

  “It’s an acronym, and it stands for a Male who is an Asinine, Rotten, Two-timing piece of Shit.”

  “In my case, I think you mean Male who is Adorable, Remarkable, Talented and probably a Superhero. Because I’ve never two-timed anyone, and never will.” To cheat, you had to lie. He refused to lie.

  He remembered the one and only time he’d fibbed to his parents. Virgil had smacked his butt and said, “Don’t you piss on my leg and tell me it’s rainin’, boy. I’ll lose all respect for you, and you’ll prove you’ve never respected me.”

  His mother had remained silent, peering at him with disappointment, cutting him to the quick.

  “Hate to break it to you,” Jessie Kay said, “but you’re still asinine. You’ll hurt her, guaranteed, and I’ll be forced to mass produce bronzes of your penis with a designer line of dresses he can wear. And maybe hats. Everyone in Strawberry Valley—heck, the world—can have a Danny Jr. on their mantel.”

  “I would never hurt her.” He snapped the words, defensive. “Not purposely. But I would like one of those bronzes.”

  Wicked pleasure brightened Jessie Kay’s features as she leaned back in her chair. “Well, well, well. Daniel Porter is smitten, and not with an imaginary bronze. I might have to help you rather than hurt you.” Her Southern drawl thickened when she added, “Now, don’t you go gettin’ a big head about this, but Miss Dot—Dorothea has had a crush on you since our glory days in high school.”

  Thea had wanted him for years? “How do you know this?” If curiosity hadn’t run the show, his eagerness would have embarrassed him. He might as well have been a sixteen-year-old girl with a crush and overactive ovaries.

  Laughter rumbled from the merciless Jessie Kay. “Want to come to my slumber party tonight? We can stay up all night gabbing about boys and having pillow fights.”

  He drew his cell from his pocket and spoke as he typed. “Dear West. Your woman needs a spanking. Take care of it.” Send.

  Smug, she withdrew her cell. “Dear West. I do hope you’ll take Daniel’s advice and spank me. I look forward to having your palm print on my butt.”

  Daniel snorted. Incorrigible girl. “Tell me about Thea. Please with a cherry on top.”

  “Fine. The first day of my senior year, I said something hateful to her. And don’t you dare chastise me for it. I’ve chastised myself a million times. Harlow had just called me a slut, and I—Never mind. I digress. I planned to apologize to Dorothea at lunch, but she rushed into the band room. I didn’t want to interrupt whatever she was doing, so I waited for her. When she rushed out, she had tears in her eyes. I sneaked in to find out what had hurt her…and there you were, making out with Madison Clark.”

  Seeing him with another girl had reduced her to tears? Poor, sweet Thea. “I barely remember Madison.”

  But he clearly remembered the way Dorothea had once looked at him in the halls of Strawberry Valley High. Of course she’d crushed on him, he thought now; he’d just been too stupid, or too hormonal, to see it.

  He’d been too young and inexperienced to appreciate her then.

  He wasn’t too young or inexperienced now.

  A wanton smile kicked up the corners of his mouth.

  “Look at you,” Jessie Kay said and tsk-tsked. “You’re the cat who just caught the mouse. I never would have guessed plain, ordinary Dorothea Mathis—”

  “Plain? Ordinary?” His voice increased an octave, drawing the notice of their waitress. She stepped toward them, but he waved her back. “Are you kidding me? Thea is gorgeous.” The sexiest woman on the freaking planet.

  Jessie Kay gaped at him, as if he were insane. And yet, for the first time in years, he felt…almost at peace. His warrior instincts were fully engaged, the prize incomparable. Thea enraptured and amused him. She tantalized all five of his senses. She challenged him but also soothed him. Soon he would have her.

  “What about your dad?” Jessie Kay asked, dead serious now. “He’ll have your wedding planned by the end of date one.”

  “I’m going to see Thea in secret. Dad will never know.” If he and Thea ever decided to take the next step—

  Whoa! What kind of thought was that? Next step? Him?

  “Oh, Daniel.” She flattened a hand over her heart. “You are such an idiot. And I mean that from the bottom of my heart.”

  His cell phone rang, saving him from having to offer a reply. The name “Dr. Vandercamp” appeared on the screen. Daniel held up a finger, indicating a need for silence, and answered. “How is Princess?”

  “The dog is doing well. She isn’t chipped, so I wasn’t able to find the owners. However, I’ve posted photos online. Miss Princess will be ready for pickup after three. At the clinic, not my house. And I told you I’d have no problem getting your number. I just left Style Me Tender. Your dad was there, and he looked pale.” Click.

  Wow. What a conversationalist.

  Jessie Kay fluttered her lashes at him. “High five to whoever put a burr under your saddle blanket.”

  He forked a bite of her eggs, despite the food he hadn’t eaten on his own plate. “I’m taking off. Got to check on my dad.” He’d looked pale? Why?

  “Fine. Abandon me. Tell Dorothea I said hi. Maybe give her a kiss for me.” She wiggled her brows. “Use tongue. I would.”

  * * *

  DANIEL PARKED IN the town square, near Style Me Tender. Virgil would be playing checkers with his best friend of forty years, Anthony Rodriguez. Or rather, pretending to play checkers while people-watching and gossiping like an old hen.

  As Daniel strode down the sidewalk, several groups of older women attempted to chat with him, but he never slowed. He was a man on a missi
on.

  Finally, he spotted his target in front of the shop, seated at a small, square table. As a young man, his dad had been stacked with muscle. Now he was far too thin, verging on fragile. Life had weathered his skin, leaving its mark.

  To Daniel, he was still one of the most beautiful people on the planet. Virgil was gruff but kind, always honest, and for too many years he’d worked two jobs in order to give his only child the finer things. Nice clothes, money to take his dates to fancy restaurants in the city and a reliable mode of transportation.

  Now it was Daniel’s turn to give back. His mom would expect nothing less.

  Bonnie Porter had been a true Southern belle. She’d cooked every meal from scratch, just like her mother and grandmother before her, and she’d never raised her voice in public. She’d never cussed, even in private. She’d considered wrinkled clothing a sin and sweatpants the devil’s invention. Most of all, she’d refused to work or clean on Sundays.

  Even the good Lord rested, she’d liked to say.

  She’d died over ten years ago when a vat exploded at Dairyland, a plant in Blueberry Hill, where half the residents of Strawberry Valley had once worked. Many people in town had lost loved ones in that explosion, not just Daniel and his father.

  Even still, a light had been extinguished inside Virgil that day. Daniel, too. He’d learned no matter how much you loved someone, you couldn’t stop Death from demanding his due.

  “—take over the receptionist desk,” Virgil was saying. “But dang it all to heck and back, she’s so poor she couldn’t jump over a nickel to save a dime. Who’s gonna sign up for long hours and little pay?”

  “She just needs to make do for a few more weeks,” Anthony replied. “The spring festival is coming up, don’t you know? Those rooms are gonna go like hotcakes at a Sunday brunch, and she’ll be sitting pretty on a fat stack of coin.”

  The rooms. The inn. Had to be Thea. Daniel’s blood flashed white-hot.

  He struggled to maintain a neutral expression. “Hey, Dad. How you feeling?”

  Both men smiled in greeting.