Take a Chance on Me(22)

Why did she always give in? Her hand trembled and she clutched the napkin tighter. She knew why. Guilt, pure and simple.

She’d been living with it for so long that she didn’t know how to live without it. It sat like a lump of coal in her belly, making her shoulders ache and knotting the muscles in her back.

Realizing Mitch was watching her, she shrugged. “It’s not that uncommon in my neighborhood.”

“And where’s your neighborhood?” A small smile softened the hard line of his jaw. He held up a hand. “Wait. Let me guess. . . . You’re a South Sider, aren’t you?”

The dispute between Chicago’s working-class South Side and the more affluent North Side was notorious and passion-filled among locals. And Mitch Riley—tattoo and ramshackle dive bar excluded—had “North Sider” written all over him. She wrinkled her nose. “And you’re probably some frat-boy, white-bread, North Sider?”

A flash of that sinful, got-to-love-me grin. “Guilty.”

She rolled her eyes. “You probably grew up someplace really ostentatious and obnoxious.”

“Winnetka, if you must know,” he said, naming one of Chicago’s wealthiest suburbs.

“Ha!” She jabbed a finger at him, her stomach easing again. “I was right.”

His gaze glimmered with warmth and something else. Something that made her nervous. Excited. His attention shifted to her lips, and the mood shifted right along with it. Heat infused her cheeks as he studied her mouth as though he had wicked plans.

Plans that might include things a good Catholic girl wasn’t supposed to think about.

“Back to the situation at hand, South Side girl.” His low voice, laced with the rumble of seduction, raised the fine hairs along the nape of her neck.

“What’s that?” Her tone was breathless, filled with anticipation. She snapped straight in her chair. What was wrong with her? Sister Margaret would be so disappointed. She cleared her throat. “Oh right, my current predicament.”

“Yeah, that.” He stretched in his chair and laced his fingers over his stomach, the picture of a man who thought he had a woman right where he wanted her. “I think you want my help, and I want to help you. Why deny us? Let me.” The gleam in his eyes bordered on smug.

He thought he was slick, didn’t he? She sat back in her own chair, mirroring his oh-so-relaxed posture.

It was true. If she didn’t want to crawl home with her tail between her legs, she needed his help. There’d be no way around that.

She weighed her options and pictured calling her oldest brother. Once Shane was involved, he’d take care of everything. As honorary head of household, he considered it his duty. She wouldn’t have to lift a finger. Her car would be towed, he’d pay for the repairs, and she’d be sitting in the kitchen surrounded by her family, trying to explain her actions, by dinnertime. Steve would probably be there, too. Her temples started to pound again as she thought of them talking her to death. It would be her engagement all over again.

Steve had known she wasn’t ready to get married. She’d told him. In fact, it had been one of the few discussions in which he hadn’t been able to bend her with logical arguments that made her feel like an idiot. In her mind, she’d had the best reason. She hadn’t been ready.

But that hadn’t mattered. He’d made sure she couldn’t say no.

He’d proposed in front of her entire family at her great aunt and uncle’s sixtieth wedding anniversary. In all of the chaos and congratulations, no one had noticed she hadn’t said yes. Then her mom had looked at her, tears of joy shining in her blue eyes, and Maddie hadn’t been able to break her heart. Not again.

She pulled her thoughts away from the past to find Mitch Riley watching her with an intense look of concentration at odds with the easy posture. She had no doubt that he was a man used to getting his way, especially where women were concerned. And for whatever reason, right now, he wanted her.

She tilted her head, and her ponytail swung, the heavy weight pulling at the last remnants of her hangover. “Why?” She didn’t elaborate, because she wasn’t really quite sure what she was asking.

Amber eyes flashed, but didn’t waver. “I don’t know why. All I know is when I look at you I don’t want you to go.”

It was the best answer, the safe answer.

What woman wouldn’t want to hear those words from a man like him? Two days ago, it would have satisfied her. But two days ago, she hadn’t climbed out the church window. “As soon as my car’s fixed, I’m going back to Chicago.” It was a statement. A promise.

The laziness slid off him as he sat forward and placed his elbows on the table, nodding slowly.

“It makes sense to leave now,” she said. Another statement of the obvious.

A razor-sharp cut of a glance. “Sometimes you just have to f*ck common sense and go with your gut.”

Her heartbeat kicking up a notch, she shifted in her chair. “I shouldn’t.”

“No, you shouldn’t.” The low, heated rumble of his voice made her breathless. “But you’re going to anyway.”

The words were delivered as fact without even a hint of entreaty. So why didn’t she feel coerced? Spine straight, she stuck out her chin. “If I stay, I insist on doing things my way.”