Take a Chance on Me(27)

The air conditioner blasted from the vents, rustling the plastic from the backseat.

“Please reconsider.” Mitch’s words were soft, yet firm, as if he was fighting back a demand he couldn’t quite leash. “I don’t want you staying here.”

She fixed her attention on the lobby door. The vacancy sign winked mockingly. She clutched the credit card more tightly. “I can’t.”

He turned, shifting in his seat, his long legs hitting the console. “Why?”

She bit the inside of her cheek. Why was this so hard? It should be easy to walk away. For all intents and purposes, he was a stranger: leaving should be simple. Her gaze dipped down to the door handle. The hard lump of guilt sat like a rock in her stomach.

What kind of a person was she that she’d had an easier time walking away from her wedding than getting out of this car?

Next to her, Mitch waited; the air was tense with everything unsaid.

He was different from Steve in that way. If she’d had this conversation with Steve, he would have answered his own question already. She traced her index finger along the cool metal door handle.

If he bothered to even ask the question in the first place. She took a deep breath and expelled it slowly. “People have been taking care of me for so long, I can’t remember what it’s like to make my own decisions.” The confession surprised her. She hadn’t planned it.

“Go on,” Mitch prompted. That soft, low voice sent a shiver down her spine.

She craned her neck to look at him. The sun caught the dark gold of his hair, highlighting his warm skin and eyes. He was a beautiful man. He was rugged and powerful, a walking fantasy come to life, and he wanted her. Even more startling, she wanted him back, almost fiercely.

Maybe this was God’s idea of a practical joke. Or maybe it was just another test.

She swallowed past the tightness in her throat. She didn’t know what it was, other than not meant to be. “I need to take care of myself right now. To prove to my family and myself I can do it.”

“And you can’t prove yourself and stay with me?” Resignation slid into his expression.

The desire to change her mind rose swiftly, filling her chest. She bit her bottom lip hard enough to feel the sting of pain until she composed herself. “I’m sorry.”

“Why?” The word rasped across her skin like the blade of a dull knife.

Her throat closing over, she shrugged. “I don’t know why.”

For several long-drawn-out moments, he studied her. His eyes narrowed as though he was looking for something; then finally he gave a sharp nod. “Okay. I don’t like it, but I understand.”

A confusing mixture of unhappiness and regret washed through her. How she longed to be convinced. Ironic, considering her main gripe about Steve was that he’d never take no for an answer.


She lowered her lashes. “I guess there’s nothing else to say.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that,” he said, crooking a finger. “Come here.”

Her throat went dry, and her heart gave a thud. On instinct, she shook her head.

His expression turned ruthlessly intent. “Maddie, I’ve been thinking about that mouth of yours for almost twenty-four hours straight. You don’t think I’m going to let you go without touching you, do you?”

Had it only been one day? How was that even possible? It seemed as though a lifetime had passed since she’d run out on her wedding. “Um . . .” She swallowed hard and squeaked out, “Yes?”

A long pause filled with sexual awareness so thick it practically coated the air.

How did he do it, flip the mood? Only moments ago, she’d felt bereft, but with one wicked glance she’d forgotten everything dogging her.

“I’ll tell you what.” He smiled, and it was so filled with cunning that the fine hairs on her neck rose in anticipation. “Tell me you won’t regret it and we can end things right here with a friendly pat on the back.”

“I-I d-don’t know what you mean,” she lied, loving and hating the direction the conversation had taken.

“Do I need to spell it out?”

“No?” The word was a question instead of the statement she’d intended.

“You want to take care of yourself, right?”

She nodded, sensing a trap but unable to stop playing into his hands.

He leaned close, placing his elbow on the console, taking up every spare inch of breathing room. “You’re ready to ditch the good Catholic girl and start doing what you want?”

The strange mixture of lust and irritation he evoked pulled in her stomach. “Well, when you put it that way.”

The curve of his lips held a distinct sexual tilt. “If you get out of this car untouched, tell me you won’t lie in bed late at night and regret it. Tell me you won’t wonder and wish you’d done things differently.”

Her pulse hammered and her throat dried up, leaving her unable to breathe, let alone speak.

He stroked a path over the line of her jaw, and Maddie forced her eyes to stay open instead of fluttering closed from sheer desire.

Why did it feel like an eternity since he’d touched her? Even more troubling, why did his hands feel so right? The slightly rough pads of his fingers trailed down the curve of her neck, leaving an explosion of tingles coursing through her.