Falling for You (9 page)

The rush of pleasure made the ground tip sideways. He staggered back, breaking the kiss. They stood staring at each other, his hands on her hips, hers in his hair, their breathing ragged. When the world settled, his eyes widened with shock.

Hers narrowed with anger. “Don’t you dare apologize.”

“W-what?” he managed. How had he let this happen? Again!

“I can see what you’re thinking.” She stepped back and lowered her voice to mimic his. “‘This shouldn’t have happened. My interest in you is purely platonic. I’m semi-engaged to someone named Paige.’ Well, Oliver Chancellor”—she poked her finger into his chest—“if you don’t want to kiss me, then stop doing it!”

“I’m sorry—” He cringed at the fire that sparked in her eyes. “I mean, you’re right. I shouldn’t have done that.” His hands shook as he finger-combed his hair. “It was just the moment, or something. You standing there looking so... you know.” He gestured helplessly toward the rail. “It just caught me off guard, is all.”

She studied him while irritation crackled around her. “We seem to have a lot of ‘moments’ together.”

“Yes, I guess we do. But it won’t happen again. I swear.” He hoped. One more kiss like that, and he’d lose all control.

Her anger shifted to worry. “You will still help us, though, won’t you?”

“Of course.” He straightened. “I said I’d help, and I will.”

She studied him a long time. “But... why? Why would you want to help me when there’s nothing in it for you? And you’re not even interested in me in a personal way.”

“I didn’t say I wasn’t interested. But Paige is out of college now, and it’s time we started dating.”

Her brow wrinkled. “I don’t understand, how can you be engaged to someone you aren’t even dating?”

“It’s complicated. As for why I want to help you, I have a lot of reasons. One, it’s in the bank’s best interest to recoup our losses on the LeRoche loan as quickly as possible.”

Her eyes lit with interest. “We should get a really good price then, right?”

“The bank is willing to negotiate a
fair
price.”

“So what’s your other reason?” she asked.

“Envy, I suppose.”

“Envy?”

“Not everyone is free to do as they please in life.” He shrugged as if settling a weight on his shoulders. “I envy you a bit for your freedom. And your courage. It takes guts to go after something this big. I admire that in you.”

Her expression showed confusion. “You admire me?”

“Yes, of course. A great deal.”

“Oh.” Disbelief joined the confusion. “Well, then,” she said. “What next?”

He relaxed as they moved into the familiar realm of action based on logic. “We get started on the business plan. If I make a list of the documents we’ll need, can one of you do the running around during the day to get them?”

“Adrian works nights, so he can do it.”

“All right, then.” He tried to decide where they should meet. Her house would be safer—more people in and out, less time alone—but he’d be more comfortable working on his own computer. “I, um, don’t suppose you have any sort of accounting software on your computer?” he asked hopefully.

She laughed. “We don’t even have a computer.”

He stared, trying to wrap his mind around that concept. “Oh.” How did people live without a computer in the house? “Well, then, I guess we’ll need to work at my apartment in the evenings. I mean, if you’re comfortable with that.”

“I am if you are.” She shrugged and beamed at him in a way that nearly made him groan. He didn’t think there was a place on the planet where he’d be comfortable alone with Aurora St. Claire.

He’d get through it somehow, though.
Without
kissing her again. “My place it is, then.”

God help him.

Chance lived in a very strange apartment building, to Rory’s way of thinking. It was ten stories tall with a lobby and an elevator. Walking down the hallway on the seventh floor, she felt as if she were in an office tower or hotel. She knew apartments in other parts of the country were built as high-rises, but she’d always thought this building looked out of place in Texas. Here apartment buildings were only two or three stories tall with private entrances to each unit.

Although with the high-rise situated on Seawall Boulevard facing the gulf, she imagined it offered the tenants spectacular views.

Finding the right door, she shifted the paper grocery sack to one arm and rang the bell. When no one answered, she wondered if she had the wrong apartment number. Numbers caused her endless trouble, since she tended to jumble them up unless she sang them like a jingle. What if she’d gotten Chance’s apartment number wrong? What if she wasn’t even on the right floor?

Just then, the elevator dinged and Chance stepped off.

Relief came first, followed by surprise so great her eyes widened.
Oh, my God.
The man was wearing running shorts and a loose muscle shirt that showed more torso than it covered. Had she really thought of him as skinny? Lean described him much better. Lean with sculpted arms and hard legs. She tried to swallow and nearly lost her tongue.

When he looked up and saw her, he stopped. “Aurora! You’re early.”

“I am?” She snapped her gaze from his well-defined muscles to his face and hoped he hadn’t noticed her drooling. “Darn it, I never can get it right. I’m always early or late. Never on time.”

“That’s okay,” he said as he unlocked the door, an action that sent biceps and triceps rippling. To think a body like that had been hidden beneath button-down shirts and dress slacks! “What’s in the bag?”

“Oh.” She looked down, grateful she hadn’t dropped the thing. “I brought dinner—some of Adrian’s killer lasagna, a Caesar salad, and homemade French bread.”

“Really?” He smiled. God, he looked good with his hair all wind-blown and a little sweaty at the edges. Behind the lenses of his glasses, she noticed he had incredibly long lashes that were tipped with gold on the ends. “Sounds great.”

Not nearly as good as having you for dinner.
She gave herself a mental shake and told her thoughts to behave. “We, um, all decided since you were helping us out in such a big way, the least we could do was feed you.”

“You certainly won’t get any argument from me there. I’m for anything that spares me from my own cooking.” He opened the door and swept his arm in a gallant bow. “Welcome to my humble abode.”

She stepped inside, curious to see how he lived. The clean lines of Scandinavian furniture blended nicely with the bomber-jacket leather sofa and chair. Recessed lights highlighted a collection of modern art prints but the corners of the room begged for the homey touch of live plants.

Through the sliding glass door to the balcony, she saw she’d been right about the view. The turbulent waves of the gulf tumbled toward shore beneath a sky that showed just a hint of evening color. In another hour, that color would blaze across the horizon.

“Here, I’ll take that.” He reached for the bag and carried it into the kitchen. The room was set off from the living and dining area by a pass-through window that doubled as a small bar. Following him, she wondered how anyone could cook in such a tiny space.

“We might want to pop the lasagna in the oven to keep it warm until we’re ready to eat,” she said, eyeing appliances so new they gleamed. “Unless you want to eat now.”

“No, I think I better hit the shower first.” He chuckled as he glanced down at his smooth, sweaty chest. Her hands grew damp as she pictured him stripping off the muscle shirt. Setting the bag on the counter, he scowled at the oven as if it were a beast. “I don’t suppose you know how to work one of those. The only things in here I can operate are the can opener, the microwave, and the coffeepot.”

She laughed. “You go take your shower. Leave the kitchen to me.”

“Bless you.” He tossed her a quick grin that stirred memories of how that mouth had felt and tasted. Their gazes held and his smile slowly faded as the moment stretched on.

Awareness shimmered between them like heat waves.

Chance wondered how the hell he would ever make it through the next few days without kissing her again. She’d been in his apartment for less than two minutes, and he already wanted to pull her into his arms and lose himself in that luscious mouth of hers. If only she didn’t look as if she wanted the same thing, the lure would be easier to resist.

That in itself seemed like a miracle: Aurora St. Claire, the sexiest creature he’d ever known, was attracted to dorky Oliver Chancellor. Was it a fluke? A quirk caused by gratitude because he was helping her? It wasn’t greed, he knew that much. He’d met enough gold diggers to recognize the signs and she didn’t have any of them. No, she looked at him as if she wanted to run her hands all over him.

It had to be a fluke.

The phone rang and they both jumped. With a nervous laugh, he picked up the receiver mounted to the wall. “Yes, hi, hello.”

“Chance? Is that you?”

“Mom!” His gaze darted to Aurora and guilt heated his cheeks, even though he hadn’t been doing anything to feel guilty about. Except in his mind. “What is it? I mean, is something wrong?”

“I’m just calling to visit,” his mother said. “Am I catching you at a bad time?”

“No, not at all.” He was
not
about to tell her he had a woman in his apartment who wasn’t Paige Baxter. His private life might be his own in his eyes, but lately his parents seemed to have a difficult time with that concept.

“Well, good. I had lunch with Marcy today. I did tell you the two of us are co-coordinating this year’s Buccaneer’s Ball, didn’t I?”

“I believe you did,” he answered, vaguely remembering.

“Well, we came up with a splendid idea.”

“Oh?” He cringed, sensing a trap.

“What would you think about announcing your engagement to Paige at the Buccaneer’s Ball this fall?”

Across the kitchen, Aurora bent over to work the controls on the front of the stove, and desire pooled in his gut at the sight of her well-shaped bottom. Turning away, he lowered his voice. “I’d rather not discuss this right now.”

“Why ever not?”

With a quick glance over his shoulder, he wished he’d installed a cordless phone in the kitchen so he could slip from the room. “For one thing, because I haven’t asked Paige to marry me yet.”

“Well, the ball is months away. Surely you’ll ask her by then.”

“Mom”—he took a breath in a bid for patience—“do you think I could handle my relationship with Paige on my own?”

“Actually, no, I’m not sure you can. According to Marcy, you two haven’t even been out on a single date since she returned.”

“Exactly.” He lowered his voice as much as he could without tipping her off that he wasn’t alone. “We’ve decided to hold off on dating until she feels more settled, so I think planning to announce our engagement is a little premature, don’t you?”

“But you and Paige are so perfect for each other. You have the same friends, enjoy each other’s company. I don’t understand why you’re dragging your feet on this.”

Maybe because I don’t want my mother picking out my wife.
He heard the oven door behind him and looked around in time to see Aurora slide a pan in, then close the door. Without looking at him, she moved around the breakfast bar toward the living area. “Hang on,” he told his mother, then covered the mouthpiece. “I’m sorry about this.” He held up the phone.

“It’s okay.” She motioned toward the sliding glass door. “I’ll just check out the view while you visit.”

“I’ll try to be quick.”

“No, don’t worry. You should never rush your time with family.”

“Thanks.” He smiled in gratitude for her understanding. And she was right. His mother might meddle at times, but he wouldn’t trade her for the world. When Aurora had stepped onto the balcony, he brought the phone back to his ear. “Sorry, I was... just checking on my dinner.”

“You mean you’re... cooking?”

“Not really.” He hedged. “Just heating something up. I’m glad you called, though, because I have a favor to ask.”

“Certainly, dear.”

“I know you and Marcy have been friends a long time, and you’re both eager for Paige and I to get together. However, I think Paige and I would feel more comfortable if we could go about this at our own pace without feeling like everyone is watching over our shoulders.”

“I see.” Her voice held a twinge of hurt.

“Now, don’t do that,” he said. “I refuse to feel guilty for wanting some privacy.”

“You’re right, I suppose.” She sighed. “It’s just that neither of you are getting any younger. And if you want to start a family, you shouldn’t wait too long. Everyone knows women have difficulty conceiving past a certain age. Plus, toddlers are so exhausting, I can’t imagine you’d want to be chasing after one in your middle age.”

“Mom...” he chuckled. “I’m only twenty-eight.”

“And growing older every day,” she said. “I’m counting on you, Chance, to make me a grandmother.”

“I promise to give it my best shot.”

“Just be sure you wait until
after
you’re married.”

“Oh”—he laughed louder—“so now you’re putting conditions on it.”

“You young people take certain things too casually.”

“Not all of us. Look, I really need to let you go.”

“Oh, all right!” she groused good-naturedly. “Just promise me you’ll think about making the announcement at the ball. It would be so romantic.”

“I promise I’ll think about it.”

“And a winter wedding—black and white, formal but not stuffy,” she said. “With red roses, I think.”

“Whoa, I’m still thinking about the engagement.”

“That’s fine, dear. You take care of the engagement. Marcy and I will take care of the rest.”

He shook his head in defeat. “Tell Dad I said hi.” After hanging up, Chance headed for the balcony. “Thanks for waiting,” he said, opening the sliding glass door. The air had cooled a bit with evening, but it was still hot enough to slap his face.

“No problem.” She turned her head with a smile, then went back to watching the beach traffic just beyond the seawall. Sunbathers had given way to couples strolling hand in hand. “You have a wonderful view.”

“Thanks. Look, can you make yourself at home while I jump in the shower? There are CDs in the entertainment center and the remote control for the TV is on the coffee table.”

“Actually, I think I’ll wait here and watch the action on the beach.” Along the edge of the surf, a young boy ran with kite in hand and a small dog barking at his heels. The two narrowly missed a collision with an elderly woman combing the sand with a metal detector.

“I’ll try to hurry.”

“I’ll be here.” Rory’s smile broadened when he ducked back inside. So, it really was true; Chance wasn’t even dating this Paige person. Which meant his objection to dating her was all in his head. As far as she could see, there wasn’t a reason in the world they couldn’t pursue the possibility of a relationship.

Unless he simply wasn’t interested.

No. She dismissed that idea. Any man who kissed her the way he had, and looked at her with those hungry eyes was definitely interested.

Maybe he just needed to know his interest was returned.

The idea bubbled up inside her, making her giddy. She wasn’t sure where the attraction would lead, but she was more than willing to find out.

True to his word, Chance was in and out of the shower in quick order. He emerged wearing khaki shorts and a dark blue polo shirt that left just enough of his arms and legs exposed to tease her eyes. She had to smile, though, at how perfectly neat his hair was even when wet. There was something about the man that made her fingers positively itch to rumple him up.

“I thought we’d work in here,” he said, leading her to a small second bedroom he’d turned into an office. A day-bed took up one wall, a computer desk sat against another. “There’s not much room to spread out, but we can make do.”

He dragged a dining chair in for her, and held it while she took a seat. Then he slipped into his swivel desk chair and hit the space bar on the keyboard. The monitor sprang to life and greeted them with Clint Eastwood’s voice. “Go ahead. Make my day.”

Rory laughed. A second later, hot licks from an electric guitar boomed forth followed by Bryan Adams singing about his first real six-string.

“Oops, I forgot I had that in there.” He made a motion with the mouse and the music stopped. A CD slipped out of the tower on the floor, as if the computer were sticking out its tongue.

Rory moved her legs to the side when he bent to retrieve the disc. His arm brushed her calf, sending a jolt through her system. He dropped the disc and nearly laid his head in her lap as he retrieved it. He smelled of soap and shampoo, and the enticing scent of male skin. She breathed in slowly to savor it.

“Okay, now to get down to work.” Fumbling a bit, he put the disc back away. “Did you bring your financial statements?”