Cinderella and the Playboy / The Texan's Happily-Ever-After (16 page)

With each day that passed, Chance was more convinced that he wasn't going to be a temporary man in Jennifer's life. He was slowly coming to believe that maybe, just maybe, his life would only be complete if Jennifer and Annie were a permanent part of his world.

Just before lunch on Saturday morning, Chance arrived at Jennifer's apartment with Butch.

She pulled open the door, a smile lighting her face when she saw him. Butch bounded over the threshold, wriggling with pleasure.

“Come in,” she told Chance, as she bent to give the big dog a hug. He woofed, one deep sound of greeting, and tried to lick her face.

“Mommy? What was that noise?” Annie entered the living room and stopped abruptly, her eyes widening with surprise. “It's a dog!”

“This is Butch,” Chance told her. “Butch, say hello to Annie.”

Butch planted his rear on the floor and uttered one more deep woof of hello, ears up, big brown eyes trained on Annie with interest.

“Hello, Butch.” Annie looked at Chance. “Can I pet him?”

“Sure.” He beckoned her closer. “Hold out your hand and let him sniff it.”

If the adults had any concerns about the big dog accepting Annie, they were quickly laid to rest. Within moments, dog and child were seated on the floor, Annie's arm around Butch's neck while she murmured in his ear. He watched her with unflagging interest, his eyes bright.

“I'm just making lunch,” Jennifer told him. “Would you like to join us?” She led the way into the small kitchen and he followed, making himself at home as he opened a cupboard door to take down a mug, then poured himself coffee.

“Let's pack those sandwiches and take Annie on a picnic at the park near my house,” Chance suggested.

Jennifer looked up. He leaned against the island's countertop, coffee mug in hand, his brown eyes warm.

“We can take Butch, too,” he continued. “And the Frisbee, of course. I'll teach Annie how to toss it for Butch to catch. He's pretty good,” he added with a grin.

“Annie would love it,” Jennifer said. “Are you sure you're up for dealing with one very active little girl in a park, with lots of room to run?”

“Are you suggesting I can't keep up with her?” he asked. His appalled, disbelieving expression was undermined by the amusement in his dark eyes.

“I'm saying I doubt I can keep up with her,” she corrected him. “But if you're game, I'm willing to give it a try.”

“Great.” He set down his coffee cup and strode across the kitchen. He wrapped his arms around her and swung her off her feet, planting a hard kiss on her mouth. “I'll go tell Annie and collect Butch.” He set her down and glanced at the counter behind her. “Want some help packing the sandwiches?”

“No, I'm good.” She shooed him out of the kitchen, shaking her head with affection as she took plastic containers from the pantry.

A half hour later, Chance parked the car outside his house and they unloaded, then set off for the park.

“How far is it to the park, Chance?” Annie asked, dancing backward in front of him.

“Six blocks,” he told her.

“Okay.” She spun around to skip forward once more, next to Butch.

The big rottweiler paced happily at the end of the leash, sniffing the warm spring air. He responded to Annie's frequent pats with a quick lick of his tongue and a woof of shared excitement.

“They're quite a pair, aren't they?” Jennifer murmured to Chance. “I'm not sure who's the most excited about this outing—Butch or Annie.”

“I think it's a draw,” Chance told her.

Jennifer glanced sideways at him. He held Butch's leash in one hand, easily controlling the eager big dog. A bright red blanket was tossed over one shoulder and he carried the wicker picnic basket in the other hand. His long legs were encased in faded jeans that clung faithfully to powerful thigh muscles, his feet covered with polished black boots. At his wrist, a Rolex watch glinted in the sunshine, his arms bare below the short sleeves of a navy polo shirt.

Just looking at him made her happy, she realized.

He glanced sideways at her, met her gaze, and lifted a brow in inquiry. “What?” he asked.

“Nothing.” She smiled. “I'm just happy.”

His dark eyes warmed, heating with slow promise. “Good to know.” His voice was deeper, gravelly.

Jennifer shivered in reaction, anticipation curling slow tendrils of heat low in her belly.

“Look, Mommy, it's the park!” Annie's voice rose with delight.

Jennifer wrestled her thought under control and looked ahead. A half block away, the entry to a large expanse of green grass and trees.

“It must be two full blocks, at least,” she commented, looking at Chance for confirmation.

He nodded and glanced at Butch. “The park is one of the reasons I bought a home in the neighborhood. If you want a dog, it's good to have a park nearby. Not to mention—” he grinned at her “—a large supply of plastic bags.”

“Plastic bags?” she queried, confused.

“For picking up dog poop. It's a city ordinance, punishable by a fine, if owners don't clean up after their dogs.”

“Eeww.” Annie grimaced, her gaze meeting Chance's. “That's disgusting.”

“Nah,” he told her. “You just use a plastic bag and
then tie the ends and toss it in the park trash container. No big deal.”

Annie looked unconvinced.

“That's part of being a dog owner,” Jennifer told her gently. “If you have a pet, you have to take care of it properly.”

“Well.” The little girl eyes Butch consideringly. “I guess it's worth it.” Her small chin tilted with purpose.

“She's so much like you,” Chance murmured to Jennifer, low enough to keep Annie from overhearing.

“And that's a good thing, right?”

“Of course,” he said promptly. “Conviction, determination, commitment—what's not good about that?”

They turned off the sidewalk, entering the park and following a winding concrete pathway beneath trees rustling with pale green leaves. On both sides of the walk, freshly mowed green lawns were dotted with beds of bright red, yellow, purple and blue flowers.

The park wasn't crowded but quite a few couples and family groups were taking advantage of the warm spring sunshine. They'd gathered on blankets spread on the grass, brightening the green sward with spots of color. Children ran and laughed, many with blue, red or green balloons tied to their wrists.

“Where are we going to have our picnic, Chance?” Annie asked.

“There's a great spot just a little farther,” he told her. “It's just off the sidewalk and near the creek.”

“Oooh, there's a creek, too? Fun!” She skipped ahead of the adults, keeping pace with Butch who paced happily at the end of his leash.

Her long red curls bounced as she moved, bright tendrils against the white sweater she wore over a pale blue sundress.

“Where does she get all that energy?” Chance said with wry disbelief, watching Annie's nonstop movement.

“I don't know, but I'd give anything to have just a tiny bit of it,” Jennifer told him with a grin.

“Kids are pretty amazing, aren't they?”

“I don't know about all of them,” she answered. “But I think Annie is. Of course, she's my daughter and I'm probably prejudiced.”

“Yeah, you probably are,” he told her. “But speaking as an objective bystander, I think you're right.”

Impulsively, Jennifer went up on tiptoe and brushed a kiss against his cheek.

“What was that for?” he asked, his eyes heating.

“Just because.”

The moment was broken when Butch and Annie came racing back to drop onto the blanket.

“We're hungry, Mommy,” Annie declared. “Can Butch have a sandwich, too?”

Jennifer looked at Chance. “Is Butch allowed to eat a peanut butter and jelly sandwich?”

“It will probably stick to the roof of his mouth but he'll love it,” Chance replied with a grin.

Jennifer put a sandwich, chips and a fat dill pickle on each plate and passed them out. She hesitated before sitting a paper plate in front of Butch. “What about pickles?” she said dubiously. “Does he like dill pickles?”

“Butch has a cast-iron stomach,” Chance said drily. “And anything that's edible, he loves.”

“Do you feed him like this all the time?” she asked as they began to eat and Butch wolfed down his food.

“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.