Cinderella and the Playboy / The Texan's Happily-Ever-After: Cinderella and the Playboy / The Texas Billionaire's Baby. Lois Dyer Faye

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      As she hurried down the street on her way to the bus stop on the next block, she was assailed by a barrage of memories of the hours spent with Chance.

      He was a man she could easily fall in love with, she realized. She hoped fervently that she hadn’t already done so—because she knew there wasn’t, could never be, a future for them together. She reached the end of the block and a bus wheezed to a stop, the doors opening. She climbed the steps, determined to put Chance Demetrios out of her mind.

      Whether she could put him out of her heart remained to be seen.

      Chance knew the moment he woke that Jennifer was gone. He swept his hand over the sheet but felt no warmth left by her body. He sat up, scrubbing his hands over his face, then tilted his head, listening. The complete silence was broken only by the soft ticking of the bedside clock.

      “Damn it,” he said into the stillness. He’d wanted to take her home. He hadn’t counted on being so relaxed and wrung out from making love this morning and last night that he’d sleep through Jennifer’s leaving.

      Nails clattered on the oak flooring and Butch nosed the hall door open wider before bounding across the room, tail wagging. He laid his head on the bed, big brown eyes pleading with Chance.

      “What?” Chance groaned. “I suppose you want to go out?”

      The big rottweiler barked, one sharp, approving sound that made Chance wince.

      “Not so loud, buddy,” he muttered. “I’m getting up.”

      He tossed back the sheet and sat on the edge of the bed.

      Butch barked again and nosed the sheet a few inches from Chance’s hip, burrowing beneath the sheet until his head was out of sight beneath white cotton.

      “Hey, cut that out.” Chance tossed the sheet aside. Silver glittered and he pulled the sheet aside to find a necklace peeking out from under the pillow. He grabbed the chain and locket just before Butch could reach it. A low whine rumbled from the dog’s throat and his brown eyes were reproachful. “Oh, come on.” Chance ran his hand over Butch’s head and scratched him behind his ear. “You know this is Jennifer’s. And you know you’re not supposed to have it.”

      Butch plopped down on his haunches and eyed the locket, dangling by its chain from Chance’s fingers.

      The oval-shaped locket had a delicate latch. Chance felt as if his fingers were giant-size as he carefully maneuvered the tiny mechanism. The locket opened and he held it on his palm. One side held a photograph of a little girl, her impish face smiling up at him. The other half held a tiny curl of auburn hair, gleaming brightly against the silver metal.

       Cute kid. I wonder who she is? He ran the pad of his index finger over the small, bright curl. And I wonder if this is her hair?

      He had no answers, but he was going to ask Jennifer as soon as he saw her again. There were lots of things he wanted to know about her. Their one date— and the best sex he’d ever shared—had only led him to be more intrigued about her.

      Butch whined and nudged his damp nose against Chance’s knee.

      “Okay, big guy,” Chance told him. “I’ll let you out.”

      He grabbed his jeans from the closet and pulled them on. Then he jogged barefoot down the stairs and through the kitchen to open the back door. Butch barreled happily past him and out into the small backyard.

      “I’ve got to teach him better manners,” Chance muttered to himself. He turned back into the kitchen to make coffee—and wondered if Jennifer was thinking of him, as he was thinking of her.

      Jennifer stepped out of the silk slacks and folded them atop the hamper. She knew by the label that the slacks had probably cost more than her monthly salary, the nubby raw silk pure tactile pleasure to touch.

       I’ll drop them at the cleaners after work tomorrow, she thought. Along with the top. Then I’ll mail them back to Chance.

      She pulled the tank off over her head, folding it neatly atop the slacks, before she turned on the sink taps. Cupping her hands, she splashed cool water on her face, reaching blindly for a hand towel. She blotted moisture from her skin before tugging the band from her ponytail. As it pulled free and let her hair tumble about her shoulders, she ran her fingertip over the base of her throat. The gesture was pure habit. She’d worn the locket with Annie’s picture and lock of hair since her daughter was born.

      But this time…the chain wasn’t there.

      Dismayed, Jennifer stared with consternation at her reflection in the mirror. She knew she’d been wearing it earlier in the day when she’d dressed to go out to brunch. Frowning, she mentally reviewed the afternoon and realized that the last time she’d noticed the locket was after they’d returned to the town house. Chance had rushed her upstairs and stripped off their clothes before tossing her on the bed. He’d joined her immediately and she remembered the slide of cool metal over her skin when Chance’s lips brushed the locket aside, replacing it with his mouth.

      Maybe I lost it in his bed, she thought. She hoped the locket had ended up tangled in Chance’s sheets rather than broken and lost on the street or the bus.

      She would have to call Chance and ask if he’d found her missing locket. Misgiving warred with delight at the thought. She wasn’t sure she had the fortitude to walk away from him a second time.

      The night with Chance was a fairy tale—a few days stolen for herself, Jennifer thought later that evening.

      With Annie tucked into bed after telling Jennifer about the fun things she did with Linda’s children, Jennifer walked back into the living room and dropped onto the sofa.

      She switched on the television, browsing through channels with the remote control and finally settling on a news station. Dressed in pajama bottoms and a white cotton camisole, she tucked her legs under her and stared blindly at the TV screen. She couldn’t make herself care about the political news or the latest scandal caused by a local state representative.

      She couldn’t stop thinking about Chance.

      It wasn’t just the sex—which had been amazing. It was his sense of humor, the discovery that they both loved or disliked some of the same movies. They’d argued hotly in defense of book titles the other had merely shrugged over but, each time, the contention had ended with laughter and kisses.

      She’d never met anyone like Chance before.

      And now that her night with him was over, she had to admit that spending time with him meant more to her than a brief, spicy interlude to her nonexistent dating life.

      She had feelings for him. She wasn’t sure exactly what those feelings were, or how deeply they ran, but the ache in her heart wasn’t simple. That nothing could ever grow between them only made her chest hurt more.

      There was no possible future between a waitress at the Coach House Diner and a doctor at the Armstrong Fertility Institute. Their lives were too different; the disparity in their background and income too great. She wouldn’t see him anymore, outside the diner.

      Jennifer knew it was for the best but somehow the thought of going back to pouring Chance his morning coffee while knowing she’d never be more than a one-time СКАЧАТЬ