Take a Chance on Me(48)

It made her feel like an adult to be trusted with such a big secret, and pride replaced her bad temper. “Cross my heart and hope to die,” she said, giving him the sacred vow of a twelve-year-old girl.

He placed his big strong hand on her shoulder and smiled. “I didn’t want another child, but your mom wanted a girl and I could never deny her anything, so I promised her one more shot. When you were born, she held you tight in her arms, wrapped in a tiny pink blanket, and talked about the things you’d do together. All the cute dresses and baby dolls she’d buy you.” He laughed, that full-bodied sound she loved. “By the time you were two you hated dresses and had to be wrangled into one for Sunday mass. Instead of the baby dolls, you wanted to play in the mud and catch a football with your brothers.”

Maddie frowned, resentful over her mom’s expectations. “That sounds like her.”

Patrick shook his head. “Don’t be too hard on her. It’s hard to let go of your dreams sometimes.”

“So she’s disappointed in me,” Maddie said, her tone sullen. She’d known it and didn’t want to care, but she did.

“Heavens no, girl.” Her dad squeezed her tight, kissing her temple. “She’s just searching for a way to relate to you. Still looking for a way to connect to the tiny baby she held in her arms.”

Maddie’s eyes filled with tears as her throat closed up. She wanted that too.

“But here’s the important thing to remember, Maddie. She’s proud of you, even in her frustration, and I am too. And do you know why?”

Maddie shook her head, unable to speak.

“Because it takes courage to walk your own path. Never lose that.”

Ripped from the memory, Maddie came to a crashing halt on the sidewalk. Her breath coming in hard pants and her eyes clouded with tears, she felt the revelation washed over her, breaking apart inside her and forcing a whole new perspective.


She’d lost her path. She’d lost her courage. And her father, regardless of what had happened, would have hated it. The man who had sat there in that boat with his disgruntled daughter would never have wanted her to be suffocated by her family, live a life she hated, or marry a man she cared about but didn’t love.

The understanding set her free in a way that years of therapy never had.

Energy buzzed through her, snapping along neurons and shaking her out of her self-imposed apathy. The heaviness always in her chest lifted, and she wiped the tears from her eyes. Filled with renewed vigor, her mind clear and focused, she turned and started running back to Mitch’s house. She wasn’t going to wait another minute. She was going to start her life, walking her own path with courage and hope, just like her dad would have wanted.

It was only a matter of figuring out who she wanted to become.





Despite the late hour, long run, and hot shower, Maddie was alert and refreshed as she waited for Mitch. She sat curled on the couch watching her second movie of the evening, Bringing Up Baby.

Cary Grant once again got up from the dining room table to follow the dog, George, out into the yard where he was searching for his precious bone while Katherine Hepburn chased after him. Katherine didn’t care one bit if she made a fool of herself over Cary. She wanted him and she went for it, no matter how clumsy and foolish she looked.

Maddie should take notes, minus all the slapstick falling, of course.

For the first time in thirteen years she was going to go for what she wanted, and she wanted Mitch Riley. He was just going to have to put his morals and sense of decency aside. Maybe it was wrong of her—no, scratch that. She was sure it was wrong, lust being a mortal sin and all, but it didn’t matter.

She had five days and didn’t intend to waste them on her knees—at least, not praying.

She’d put on tiny cotton shorts and a skimpy tank top: seductive, but not obvious, considering it was eighty-five at one in the morning. She’d worn her hair loose, a wild tangle of waves down her back. Full makeup lacked subtlety, so she settled for light and natural: mascara, some pale pink creamy blush, and the raspberry Lip Smackers of her youth.

She heard tires on gravel as a car came up the driveway. Excitement sparked as her heart started to pound.

She was as ready as she’d ever be.

A minute later, the kitchen door opened and Maddie sat up, leaning against the arm of the couch as she waited. Dressed for bed, she hadn’t bothered with either a bra or panties, and now felt naked with her nipples poking the thin pink cotton of the tank. The seam of her shorts pressed along her most intimate spots, making her skin tight and hyper-aware.

Jittery with nerves, she gave one fleeting thought to racing upstairs and locking herself in the room when she heard his heavy footsteps in the hallway.

She refused to give into the fear. Not anymore.

When he reached the living room, he paused, shoving his hands into his jean pockets. “You’re still up.”

The soft light from the foyer silhouetted his broad shoulders and tall, lean frame. His gray T-shirt and jeans fit him as if he were an advertisement for female fantasy.

Dangerous and lethal. Completely delicious.

“I couldn’t sleep,” she said. After only a night next to him, she’d already grown used to his warmth on her back. “How was your night?”

In the dim, dull light, she couldn’t read his expression. She had no idea what he looked at, but her skin tingled. She licked her lips, tasting the hint of raspberry on her tongue.