Damn it! Chance was working around her defenses. But she had more to fight for than just some good time. She really needed him in her life. In the few days since they’d reconnected, she had discovered how incredible it was to have someone who really saw her for who she really was. It was nice to be allowed to laugh and joke. To have an opinion that didn’t follow everyday convention. Someone to really talk with.
Melora didn’t want to give it up. Couldn’t go back to the awful isolation that had been so much a part of her life for too many years now. It didn’t matter the number of people surrounding her, there was only one person who actually saw her.
“Chance, this is serious.”
Her lips pressed together in a firm line as she sought a way to make him understand.<
He couldn’t just kiss her. Not Chance. No! He had to make a point as he did it. Eyes locked with Melora’s, forcing her to watch as he whittled the distance between them, covered her mouth with his, and sank into his task with slow, deliberate pressure. She couldn’t close her eyes or look away. But even as panic licked amongst the flames engulfing her, she held strong. Stoically taking what Chance gave her, Melora told herself to enjoy it, that it would be the last. If she could maintain her control here, then she’d have had her cake and eaten it, too. She’s going to have one night with Chance and a lifetime of friendship to follow. Melora watched him, watching her. Gentle suction pulled at her restraint. The back-and-forth rub of firm masculine lips wore on her soft lips. God, he was so good… Patient and skilled and, if memo
Saturday morning, Melora emerged from Chance’s bedroom blurry-eyed and totally desperate for caffeine. Waking alone in his huge bed, she’d managed to locate her panties and Chance’s discarded t-shirt from the night before, but after minutes of fruitless searching for her jeans, she abandoned the quest. Bare-legged, she padded down the hall following the fresh-brewed divine scent of dark roast coffee. Nothing better than a large cup of coffee to finally start functioning better and give this day a new meaning. The night before they had been to a wine bar for dinner and, though delicious, that third glass was wreaking havoc on her head this morning. Halfway through their Gran Velas Tacos, requested especially by Chance for her, a couple of his friends had turned up and joined them.&n
Too bad her poorly dressed behind was hanging out, ruining the entire effect of that scene. When Chance deposited her at the door of the master bath, Melora touched his arm and looked up at him imploringly.“Uhm, Chance… How about I let you catch up with your father? I’ll see you later… maybe?!” His hand closed over hers with a telling squeeze.“Not a chance in hell, babe! I’m giving you thirty minutes and then you’ll sit there with us enjoying breakfast and making small talk with Professor Benson. That’s what good, supportive, wonderful girlfriends do for their men,” he replied and smiled mischievously at her. “Oh… I see it now… Tell me, Chance Benson, are you afraid of your father?” She rais
They had spent the evening enjoying a good dinner, drinks, and non-stop laughter at the ‘Fort Sanderson’, home of Diana and Stephen Sanderson, Chance’s old-time friends. He tried to warn her ahead of time about his former CFO’s larger-than-life personality trapped in a pixie-sized body but it wasn’t until Melora found herself gasping for breath within the enthusiastic squeeze of Diana’s shockingly strong arms that she fully grasped his meaning. Stunned, Melora took a step back, laughing as Chance steadied her with a hand at her hip.“Diana, I think you broke my date’s every single rib,” he joked, dodging to avoid the swat of her arm.“Oh, Chance, do shut up!” She took a deep breath that seemed to fill her entire body, n
Minutes later they were rounding the top level of the parking garage in Chance’s building. The sun burned low in the sky, casting the plain concrete supports in gilded rays.“It was incredible, Chance!” He barely heard her over the roar of the engine echoing through the structure and waited until he’d pulled to a stop and cut the engine to respond. Pushing the machine up on its stand, Chance grinned.“Glad you had fun.”“I’m not entirely sure fun even begins to describe it…” She was so hyped… Chance stripped off his helmet and then turned to help her with hers. Damn it! That smile was enough to drive a man crazy. And about that… he had some payback to attend to.“Come here!”
Chance pulled a suit from his closet and laid it over the end of the bed where Melora lazed beneath the blankets.“Babe, I’ll be back Wednesday evening. We can have a late dinner.” A pair of shorts, track pants, t-shirts, and socks were stacked randomly within his case. Straightening the lot, Chance caught the languid stretch of a pale arm by the headboard, the shifting of a slender leg. That image made him consider shoving the whole packing mess to the floor and using the bed for the purpose it was intended.“How is it I’ve gotten spoiled on you in only one month?” came the quiet purr from amid the sheets. “Five days is so long… it’s an eternity… it’s living without air.” He smiled, taking her pout for the stroke to his
“Mother, Brando’s here,” Melora called, watching from the front window as the black Porsche pulled into the circular drive. It had been weeks since she’d seen Brando and, aside from the one brusque call she’d received about the folly of getting involved with ‘Benson’, he’d been unusually quiet, busy running ‘Channing Industries’ outstandingly well. Heading to the foyer, Melora heard the thud of a car door and then stilled mid-step at the sound of another. A moment later the front door swung open wide and her brother strode in, an insolent grin on his face and Charlton behind him. Melora’s back straightened, her jaw setting hard.“Hey, Mel,” Brando said in a naughty tone as he crossed to take her in a quick hug. “Hope you don’t mind that I’ve
One look at her and Chance knew something was wrong with Melora. He stood by the exit watching the dinner crowd. The upscale Italian restaurant was one of his favorites and Melora had mentioned it as one of hers as well, but tonight she’d barely had a bite of her food and her glass of wine sat all but untouched on the table. He’d gone to her place straight from the airport, willing to see her, ready to pick up where they’d left off almost a week before. The business trip had been a success and he was in the mood for a celebration. But even before they’d made it to the car, Chance had sensed something off. Usually, they’d talked easily enough, laughed, and caught up, but every few minutes her attention would drift, leaving him to wonder where she’d gone. 
Chance sat at the edge of the bed, feet on the floor, forearms propped over his knees, jaw painfully set. This wasn’t going to work. He looked over his shoulder at Melora’s sleeping form, quietly curled into herself, a tiny furrow pulled between her delicate eyebrows. She didn’t want what he was offering… not really. They’d been in the same book, but on different pages from the start. He’d tried not to hurt her, but he’d been an idiot, and in the end that was all he’d managed to do. Even today, when suddenly all the pieces of his life seemed to be falling into place, one jagged edge didn’t fit and he’d felt it cut through Melora’s vulnerable heart. ‘Just let me love you.’ He shouldn’t have said the words like that.
He was losing her. He’d been so close. She’d been there, he could feel it. He’d seen her weaken, starting to melt. Felt the hot lick of her eyes over his skin, the current charging the air between them. And then, just that quickly, everything changed. The temperature dropped. The static grounded. And a swarm of angry bees manifested beneath his skin, buzzing in his head, making him itch and sting and want to roar in painful frustration. Why wouldn’t she damned well give in? Fighting the vise around his chest, Chance surged to his feet. Wasn’t surprised when Melora rose with him. She leaned into his space, looking up at him with eyes that were flat and bleak, lacking emotion, and speared through his soul like a blade.“You know what? You’re right… I don
Melora stood before the closed door to her apartment, hand hovering above the knob. Chance was on his way up. Invariably looking too dangerously good for her peace of mind. He always looked good. And she’d generally been able to handle it. Right up until the night a week ago when she’d gotten her hair stuck in his shirt. Ever since she’d been fighting a losing battle against temptation. It was unsettling. And what made matters worse, Chance had stopped berating talking about marriage. She knew something wasn’t right… This was the relentless, ruthless, single-minded in his unwavering determination to make the world bend to his will, Chance Benson. Now that she’d been on the receiving end of all that intensive focus, Melora didn’t believe for one minute he’d actually given up the fight. Which meant he’d be
Melora sat at the kitchen table, her gaze fixed on the cooling mug of tea between her palms. She’d left Chance in the living room nearly a half-hour before. After a time, she’d heard his sweet voice as he began making phone calls. Surely, he was trying to find a way out of this mess. The hardwood groaned its quiet protest under the weight of his approach and then Chance’s dark form filled the doorway. Arms braced against the frame like a looming threat, he pressed into the room without entering. “I found out this morning…” she volunteered, figuring it as good a place to start as any. “Are you ok?” he asked visibly concerned. It didn’t surprise her… There’d never been a question of caring. Only of degree. “Yes. It was just my annual check-up. One thing led to another and then…”
How in the hell was he supposed to make this work when Melora wouldn’t give a damn inch? “Chance, I’m not giving up my job!” Her cheeks were flush, her eyes overbright with shadows beneath as she planted hands on hips and glared at him from across the distance of his living room. “People work because they need the money, Melo,” he answered steadily, unwilling to be baited into a shouting match with this stubborn little demon woman carrying his child. “You don’t need the money.” Chance was the calm one, this time. The reasonable one. Casually sprawled in his chair, smiling his most patient, unfazed smile, his hand, all the while, discreetly flexing the tension from his body behind the arm of the wingback. They’d been going aroun
The weather outside was so similar to what was going on in her heart and in her mind. So, after she took a nice long bath, Melora decided to make herself a cup of tea and think of the news Dr. Jackson just gave her that morning. Melora knew she had to talk to Chance, that he had to know about the pregnancy. But before doing that, she needed to put some order in her thoughts and come up with a plan that would allow her to take care of the baby without asking anything from him. She won’t put Chance in chains out of fear or desperation. This wasn’t his fault, but all hers. So, Melora Channing is going to take care of her baby without asking for no one’s help. The piercing whistle of steam escaping the kettle was broken by the repet
Melora’s gown crinkled, gaping in falls of stiff, creased blue paper as she sat atop the padded exam table, legs crossed with as much lady-like decorum as she could muster given the circumstances. While waiting for Dr. Jackson, Melora tried to calm her trembling hands, blocking her every thought about Chance. At least for that day. The last months and a half had been extremely tough on her, she’d almost lost her mind and her will to live. Thank god for her students at school! They literally saved her life, keeping her sane and focused at least a few hours a day. After breaking up with Chance, she had been grumpy, sick, and depressed for a long time. She kept fighting what had become a perpetual state of lethargy for weeks. But one morning, she left her room and decided she wouldn’t
One look at her and Chance knew something was wrong with Melora. He stood by the exit watching the dinner crowd. The upscale Italian restaurant was one of his favorites and Melora had mentioned it as one of hers as well, but tonight she’d barely had a bite of her food and her glass of wine sat all but untouched on the table. He’d gone to her place straight from the airport, willing to see her, ready to pick up where they’d left off almost a week before. The business trip had been a success and he was in the mood for a celebration. But even before they’d made it to the car, Chance had sensed something off. Usually, they’d talked easily enough, laughed, and caught up, but every few minutes her attention would drift, leaving him to wonder where she’d gone. 
“Mother, Brando’s here,” Melora called, watching from the front window as the black Porsche pulled into the circular drive. It had been weeks since she’d seen Brando and, aside from the one brusque call she’d received about the folly of getting involved with ‘Benson’, he’d been unusually quiet, busy running ‘Channing Industries’ outstandingly well. Heading to the foyer, Melora heard the thud of a car door and then stilled mid-step at the sound of another. A moment later the front door swung open wide and her brother strode in, an insolent grin on his face and Charlton behind him. Melora’s back straightened, her jaw setting hard.“Hey, Mel,” Brando said in a naughty tone as he crossed to take her in a quick hug. “Hope you don’t mind that I’ve