Take a Chance on Me(34)

A small shake of her head.

His fingers tightened fractionally, reminding her of his strength, though they didn’t hurt her. “I’d be wasting my breath trying to get it out of you, wouldn’t I?”

“Yes,” she said, her voice just above a whisper.

He pressed an inch closer, still not touching anywhere but her chin, but close enough for her to feel his heat everywhere. “You’re not leaving and that’s final. Got it?”

Any protest died as everything inside her melted. Reaching into some hidden reserve, she pulled away. “What are you going to do if I don’t ‘got it’?”

The gold in his eyes darkened as his head tipped forward. “Why don’t you test me and find out, Maddie?”

She swallowed, out of her depth in this mysterious game they were playing.

His gaze dropped to her lips and she held her breath, waiting for the hard press of his mouth on hers. Wanting it. Needing it.

“I’m going to take a shower.” With that, he stepped back, taking all his heat with him. He turned and walked toward the back stairs. He stopped at the bottom and looked back over his shoulder. “You’ll be here when I’m through.”

It wasn’t a question, and without thinking, she nodded, giving him the only answer she could. The only answer she wanted to give. “Yes, Mitch.”

He nodded and bounded up the stairs.

It was settled. She was staying. To her surprise, she relaxed for the first time in as long as she could remember.





Chapter Nine



She couldn’t sleep.

Moonlight streamed through the white eyelet curtains, casting a dim glow on a crack in the ceiling. Maybe tomorrow she’d go to the hardware store and buy some plaster.

Or maybe not.

It was odd, not having her days endlessly scheduled. No more wedding plans, no last-minute details to catch up on, no work to go to, or tasks to accomplish.

Sure, her life was a disaster, but that was different from having something to do.

At least she’d given up pretending she was going home. It was a couple of days. For once, she was going to do what she wanted. And what she wanted was Mitch and more nights like tonight.

She’d had more fun that night than she’d had in the past year. They’d spent the evening at Gracie and Sam’s house, drinking margaritas and eating fajitas while the four long-term friends filled her head with crazy stories. Maddie had laughed until her sides hurt. They were crass, inappropriate, and not at all polite—so familiar and comfortable together, it caused an unexpected stirring of jealousy.

Her family used to be like that. She missed them, missed the way they used to be.

She tossed about on the bed, throwing the mint-green sheets and quilt to the floor so she didn’t suffocate in the late-summer heat. She didn’t want to think about them now. Thinking about her family brought back her anxiety.


She wanted to think about the way Mitch had kissed her in the car that afternoon, about how he’d touched her through the night. Light, casual touches—a brush over her arm, the slide of his fingers in her hair, the press of his thigh against hers under the table.

But that was impossible while her mind raced with never-ending thoughts of guilt and a life she’d lost when her father died.

She glanced at the closed bedroom door, then back at the clock sitting on the nightstand.

It was one in the morning, and sleep was farther away than ever.

Unable to stand it for one more second, she rolled off the bed. Normally, when her mind wouldn’t stop racing, television was her drug of choice. She walked across the soft, faded Oriental rug, opened the door and peered into the hallway.

All was quiet.

She padded down the narrow hall toward the front stairs that would lead to the living room. When she got to Mitch’s door, she stopped, pondering it as though it were a mathematical equation.

What was she doing? Go downstairs.

She stared at the dark wood, six-paneled door. It was nice quality. It looked sturdy and strong. Old construction, like the rest of the farmhouse.

She nibbled on her bottom lip, scowled. Her heart was beating so loud, she could hear it in her ears. Go downstairs, Maddie.

It was ironic that after months of desperately wanting to be alone, she couldn’t stand the solitude.

But that wasn’t Mitch’s problem. She couldn’t pound on his door in the middle of the night and demand he entertain her. Besides, he’d get the wrong idea.

She scowled at the closed door and her fingers twitched. Walk away.

But then some demon possessed her and she knocked.

Complete silence.

Relief stole through her. Had she gone insane? She turned away.

It was better this way. She’d go downstairs and watch HGTV until she fell asleep. She took one step, stopped, and swung back around. She knocked again, much louder this time.

What was she doing?

“Come in,” he called, his tone muffled.

Go away. Leave, before it’s too late.

She pushed open the door. Reason had deserted her when she’d climbed out the church window, and apparently it hadn’t returned. She was as crazy now as she’d been yesterday.

Mitch looked at her. He was stretched out on a king-sized bed with a mammoth, dark mahogany headboard. His chest was bare and the stark white sheet rode low. One brow raised, he peered over a thick book perched on his stomach.