Chance (The One More Night Series) Read online

  “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “Don’t you?”

  My heart started to quicken. Was my attraction to him that obvious? Clearly, it was. He was seducing me, but with the graceful hand of subtlety. There was mischief in his eyes, but also layers of sincerity and interest. The curl at the corner of his lips wasn’t just the hint of a smile—there was something deeper there that I couldn’t define. He was being at once serious and playful. I didn’t know what to make of him or of this situation. But I knew one thing—he was disarming. He was breaking down my barriers. A part of me wanted to run away from him—just as I had run from every man since Brian had cheated on me. But there was another part of me that Brian hadn’t destroyed that wanted to experience the intensity of this moment. To feel that burn again. To let someone in just far enough to know that the fire—nearly snuffed a year ago—was still alive and could grow again.

  “You’re different,” he said.

  “I’m sorry?”

  “You’re unusual.”

  “And you’re being vague.”

  “You’re unaffected. I don’t find that often in Manhattan.” He shrugged. “For that matter, I don’t find it in most cities I land in.”

  “You don’t live here?” I asked.

  “I don’t.”

  “How long are you here for?”

  “Unfortunately, just for two more days.”

  I felt my heart fall. And that’s that. This man was charming, kind, and handsome, but if he didn’t live here, why waste my time losing myself in those eyes of his? He not only lived somewhere else, but also was part of a gilded world to which I didn’t belong.

  “I should go,” I said. “I still have to deliver these drinks, especially the champagne before it goes flat. People are probably furious with me right now.”

  “Then I should let you work,” he said. “So, we’ll talk later?”

  I furrowed my brow at him. “Later?”

  “Yes. Later,” he said. “When your shift is over and you can join me for a drink.”

  “But the bar will be closed by then.”

  “I was thinking that we could have a drink in my suite. There’s a full bar there. And beautiful views of the city.”

  “Your suite?”

  “I keep one of the penthouse suites here.”

  “I’m afraid—”

  “There’s no reason for you to be afraid,” he said as he turned away. “I don’t bite. And it’s just a drink. Just for one night. Unless, of course, you decide that you want more. And if you do, then we’ll also drink to that.”

  CHAPTER TWO

  For the next hour, I was a hot mess of stripped nerves and raw emotions that would have gotten the best of me if I hadn’t needed to step it up, focus on my work, and make sure that the increasingly thinning crowd got their drinks.

  Everywhere around me, I was aware of his presence, even during those moments when I couldn’t physically see him. But I could feel him—oh man, could I feel him. As I moved about the room, either bringing people their drinks or taking new orders for fresh cocktails, I could feel him as if he were standing right next to me. He was waiting until the last person left the party, and at that point, he’d likely approach me to pick up where we’d left off.

  I saw him three times during the party’s final hour, once talking with a group of men and women, and twice leaning alone against one of the Grand Ballroom’s towering columns.

  It was during those singular moments that I felt him the most because, each time, he’d been staring at me.

  He wanted me—that was clear. At least part of him sensed that I was considering my options. But that didn’t mean that anything was going to happen.

  He likely sensed that, too.

  I hadn’t committed to a drink with him in his suite, or whatever else might follow. He knew that, and so he watched me. And while he watched me, I continued to face my own dilemma, which would have shook my mother to her religious core if she knew that it was a dilemma for me. I could go to his suite, have a drink, and decide at that point if I wanted more. Or I could just call it a day and go home alone, which is what I always did because, frankly, it was easier.

  Since leaving Brian a year ago, I’d repeatedly said no to the prospect of getting romantically involved with someone—let alone having sex with someone—until I was emotionally ready to take that step. That’s just who I was. I wasn’t about to bang a few random men in an effort to get over Brian like my girlfriends wanted me to do. Instead, I’d chosen the more logical route—taking time to sort through my emotions and deal with the end of my relationship so I didn’t make the same mistakes twice.

  But now that those emotions had been dealt with and I was in a better space, how much longer could I hold out? How much longer should I hold out? I’d be lying if I said that I hadn’t missed having sex with someone I loved. But what I didn’t know anything about was having sex with a stranger—I’d always been a relationship kind of girl. I’d never had a one-night stand. It wasn’t that I wouldn’t consider one—it was just that I hadn’t had one yet. If I had sex with this guy, would knowing nothing about him lessen the impact of the act? Or would it heighten it?

  Given my attraction to him, I didn’t know.

  I looked around the room again. It was a moment before I found him near the end of the bar, not far from where I picked up my drinks. He was talking to a middle-aged couple as they prepared to leave the ballroom, but I knew why he was there. It was the end of the night. The party was over. He’d placed himself there so he wouldn’t miss me on my way out. He was determined to make this happen. I had to wonder how often he did this. Was this something he sought out in each city he visited? As Brooke would put it, was he some kind of chronic manwhore?

  What was the line he’d used on me? You can feel it, can’t you? It’s probably as confusing to you as it is to me. And as surprising. But it’s there, isn’t it?

  Had that been a line? Had he felt the same kind of overwhelming attraction that I’d felt? He’d seemed sincere when he’d said it, and with his looks and charm, I doubted that he even needed a line to pick up women. Looking the way he did, he likely could walk into any bar and leave with the woman of his choice. So, was it a line just to get me into his bed, or was there something more? I wasn’t sure.

  But what I did know was that there was a stirring within me that I couldn’t deny. And that frustrated me.

  For once, why can’t I let go and just live? I wondered. Why shouldn’t I sleep with him? He’s gorgeous. And he was sweet. He swept in and lifted me off my feet before everything went to hell with that woman’s dress. Why should I deny myself of him? Why do I always hold myself back?

  I considered that for a moment. And I knew the answer. She was right there in my ear, telling me that I better not go through with this.

  But this time, as I moved toward the bar, I decided to ignore my mother.

  CHAPTER THREE

  With the ballroom nearly empty, the cleaning staff would soon arrive to put the room back into order.

  I noticed other female servers with their masks off and knew that was a sign that they’d been given permission to remove them. Grateful to lose mine, I slipped it over my head and shook out my hair so it fell free behind my back in a shimmering cascade of black. As I crossed to the bar, I noticed that Chance had turned toward me and was watching me as I raked my fingers through my hair.

  When our eyes met, I felt the weight of his stare slam against me as hard as it had earlier, and I blushed with anticipation of what might come. But when his lips parted and he looked away, I suddenly wasn’t sure how to read him. Now that he’d seen my face—all of it, with no mask—he’d either completely lost interest in me because I wasn’t his type after all, or his interest had peaked, and he was considering how to go forward with this. I wasn’t sure which one it was. If I could see the look in his eyes—which I couldn’t at this distance—I’d have my answer.

  But I can’t see them, so we’ll
see if he leaves.

  I turned away from him. To save each of us from any awkwardness, I wanted to give him the opportunity to leave for his penthouse if he wanted to, so I went straight to the center of the bar. I’d planned on saying goodbye to Steve before leaving anyway. I wanted to thank him again for working his butt off for me and for the rest of the servers tonight. He and his bar staff had gone above and beyond.

  I placed my tray and mask on the bar, and Steve looked up at me with a smile. The first words out of his mouth confirmed why Chance might have looked away from me.

  “So, that’s what you look like,” Steve said.

  For someone who had never been comfortable in her own skin—for a whole host of reasons that I’d rather leave in my past because the damage already had been done—all I could do was shrug. “For better or worse, I guess.”

  “Definitely for the better.”

  “I was kind of tired of looking like Zorro.”

  “Unless you carry a whip, nothing about you resembles Zorro. I’m pretty sure he didn’t have your curves.”

  I cocked my head at him. That was nice of him to say.

  So, you’re going to sleep with him, too?

  Oh, please, mother.

  I needed to just calm down and get it together. So I tried.

  “Well, that depends,” I said. “Which Zorro are we talking about?”

  “Douglas Fairbanks was the first actor to play him.”

  That set me back. He knows about silent movies? I love silent movies.

  “And Tyrone Power played him, as did a shitload of other actors. I might be wrong, but I think the last one who played him on the big screen was Antonio Banderas. Catherine Zeta-Jones co-starred opposite him.” Then he stopped. “You know, if you had wavy hair, you’d look a lot like her—at least when she was in her prime.”

  I just looked at him. “Seriously? Catherine Zeta-Jones? Now you’re pushing it.”

  “I’m not. The more I look at you, the more you look like her. There’s a resemblance.”

  “How I wish.”

  He raised his eyebrows at me as he started to load one of the dishwashers. “Looks to me as if your wish came true.”

  He was flirting with me, and I have to say that I didn’t mind it. He was cute in a boxer-like sort of way—his nose looked as if it had been smashed at some point, which gave him an edge I kind of liked.

  “Happy tonight is over?” he asked.

  “Are you joking? All of us just walked through the fires of hell.”

  “How are your feet?”

  “Like little tug boats.”

  “Swollen?”

  “To say the least. Yours?”

  “Not too bad—but I’m not asked to wear heels. Women get the raw end of the deal when it comes to that.”

  I lifted my eyes toward heaven. “Finally, a man who understands one of the disadvantages of being a woman,” I said.

  He grinned at that, and when he did, those dimples of his appeared again. If things fell through with Chance, here was a man who was not only holding my interest, but who also seemed like a genuinely nice guy. Maybe it was time to get back in the saddle again—one way or the other.

  “Look, I know you’re busy cleaning up, but I wanted to stop by before I left to thank you for all of your help tonight. I really appreciate it.”

  “I appreciate that, Abby. No one else has stopped by to say so.”

  “They should have. And by the way, I should have listened to you earlier. Remember that ridiculously full tray you warned me not to take all at once?”

  “I remember.”

  “Turns out you were right. I almost tripped over a woman’s dress, and if I had, those drinks would have gone flying.”

  “But they didn’t?”

  “They didn’t.”

  “You righted yourself in time?”

  “Let’s just say that someone was very kind and stopped me from doing a face plant before disaster struck.”

  When he was finished loading the dishwasher, he switched it on and appeared to make a decision. He looked up and shot me a glance. “Some of the guys are going out for a beer after this. I’m going with them. You should come with us. You know—with me. I’ll introduce you to all of them. They’re a rowdy bunch, but they’ll take to you in a heartbeat.”

  “You really think I can be one of the guys?”

  “Hell, no. You’d be there to make the rest of us look better, and to help lift our collective IQs way above the usual troglodyte level. So, how about it?”

  I was about to answer when I saw him glance to my left as a hand descended upon my upper arm.

  “We should go,” I heard a voice say.

  I turned and faced Chance, who still had his mask on. So, he hadn’t run away when he saw me without my mask. I had to admit that gave me a sense of relief. When it came to my looks, I never believed the compliments I received. I didn’t buy them—never had. In my mind’s eye, I’d always be the tall, thin, awkward-looking girl who was ridiculed for years in school for having a face full of acne. Brooke and Elle had tried to help me through that time in my life, but emotional scars often cut deeper than physical scars. My acne was long gone and my complexion had somehow survived it, but I still never saw what others saw in me.

  But here was Chance, and I had to admit that his presence gave me pause.

  I didn’t know what his tastes were in women, but, when my mask came off, I’d certainly given him every opportunity to dart away while he could. Apparently, he hadn’t, because here he was, ready to stake his claim.

  And maybe you should pay attention to that, Abby.

  It was my inner-voice talking to me now. Always the voice of reason. Always there to set me straight.

  Always the devil on my shoulder.

  Maybe you should just enjoy the fact that he did wait for you tonight. That he’s obviously attracted to you, and that he wants to see what will happen next between you. Maybe it will be just a drink. Or maybe there’s the potential for more. So come on, Abby. It’s time to let your guard down and at least be open to the possibilities.

  I wasn’t sure what to do.

  “The party’s over,” I said to him. “You might want to remove your mask.”

  He looked at me when I said that, and then, in one fluid motion, he pulled it over his head.

  For a moment, I just drank him in. Physically, he was stunning—far better looking than I’d imagined. His eyes were his best feature—pale blue and framed by thick, dark lashes most women would have killed for. I’d seen plenty of good-looking men during my time in Manhattan, but none had ever measured up to this man. He was beyond my type. He was as masculine as he was gorgeous, so I had to wonder again—why was he here with me? He could have had his choice of women tonight. Why me?

  Get over it, Abby. What matters is that he’s here.

  “Are you ready?” he asked. He looked between me and Steve and then extended his hand to Steve. “Chance Caldwell,” he said. “Pleased to meet you.”

  “Steve Martel,” Steve said. But when he shook Chance’s hand, it was with a firmness that bordered on aggression, which disappointed me. Where was the nice guy I’d been speaking to a moment ago? Right now, he looked pissed off. “The pleasure’s mine. Or yours. I guess it depends on how this plays out.”

  “I don’t know what that means,” Chance said.

  “I’ve asked Abby to join me for a beer tonight. I’m hoping that she’ll accept.”

  Chance looked at me, then back at Steve. “When did you ask her?”

  “Does it matter?”

  “It does.”

  “Just a moment ago.”

  “Earlier, I asked her to have a drink with me.”

  “Did she accept?”

  “Actually, she didn’t. But maybe she will now. Or not—that’s her choice, which I respect. Abby, would you like to have that drink with me?”

  That was a loaded question, because we both knew this might be about more than just a drink. I recal
led what he’d said to me earlier.

  “I was thinking that we could have a drink in my room. There’s a full bar there. And beautiful views of the city.”

  “Your room?”

  “I took one of the penthouse suites here.”

  “I’m afraid—”

  “There’s no reason for you to be afraid. I don’t bite. And it’s just a drink. Just for one night. Unless, of course, you decide that you want more. And if you do, then we’ll also drink to that.”

  Before making my decision, I looked at Steve and saw a completely different man staring back at me than the man I’d been talking to a moment ago. He was so consumed by anger that he looked frightening. I knew why he was seething, and it infuriated me because he was way off course. Because Chance had come to collect me at the end of the night, Steve was thinking that I’d pulled what so many female servers pull at events such as these. He was thinking that I’d worked the crowd in an effort to have one lucrative night with a stranger. From his expression, it was clear that he’d slotted me among those women, which was insulting and demeaning.

  Still, just to be sure, I wanted to hear him say it.

  “Why are you being so hostile?” I said.

  “You already know why, Zorro.”

  “Be careful,” Chance said

  “Or what? You’ll get me fired?”

  “I’ll go one better than getting you fired. Either show her some respect, or I’ll show you my fist.”

  He said it in a voice so tightly controlled that there was no question that he meant it.

  “This bitch hasn’t earned my respect.”

  I pressed my hand hard against Chance’s torso in an effort to hold him back. “Earned your respect?” I said to Steve. “How haven’t I earned your respect? What the hell have I done to you?”

  “You want it spelled out for you and your man? Fine. You’re just another pretty girl on the make in the big city. Looks like tonight will pay for a few month’s rent.” He turned to Chance. “Dude, whatever she’s charging you, I hope she’s worth it.”

  And there it was—I was right. He thought I was some kind of whore. As soon as the words were spoken, I had to hold Chance back again as he charged forward and grabbed Steve by his jacket with both hands.