A Wedding on Bluebird Way Page 26

  “I hope you don’t mind my borrowing this,” she said. “My clothes got wet when I was bathing the girls.”

  “Nobody ever wore it better,” he said, trying not to imagine what she was—or wasn’t—wearing underneath. “Sit down. The party’s about to begin.”

  * * *

  They sat at opposite ends of the sofa with the girls between them. It was a safe arrangement, Chance told himself. If he’d been sitting next to Harper, he wouldn’t have been able to keep his hands off her.

  While Harper poured the root beer, Chance passed out pizza slices on paper plates and brought up a TV menu of children’s movies. The twins chose Despicable Me, which they said they’d seen, but liked enough to see again.

  With the fleece throw across their laps, they settled down to munch pizza and watch the movie. After the train wreck of a day, Chance felt his nerves begin to unwind. He hoped Harper was relaxing, too. In its own way, her day had been as stressful as his.

  Chance hadn’t seen the movie. But as the tale of a curmudgeonly man forced to take in three little orphans progressed, he couldn’t help wondering if the twins had chosen it with an agenda in mind. By the time the man had become a happy, loving father and even found a girlfriend, Chance was sure the little schemers had known exactly what they were doing. By the end of the movie, the girls had both fallen asleep—Jessy with her head in her mother’s lap and Jenny snuggled against Chance’s shoulder.

  He used the remote to switch off the TV. Harper gave him a tired smile from the far end of the sofa. “I think they’re done for the day,” she said. “Would you mind helping me get them upstairs?”

  “Won’t they wake up?”

  “Not when they’re this tired. Trust me, they’ll be like little rag dolls.” Harper eased to her feet, worked her arms under Jessy, and lifted the little girl to her shoulder. Following her example, Chance picked up Jenny and cradled her in his arms. Harper glanced toward the stairs. “Lead the way,” she said.

  Chance walked ahead of her with his precious burden. Harper followed him up the stairs and down the hall to the darkened guest room. The double bed was already turned down. Going to opposite sides, they lowered the little sleepyheads to the pillows and gently tucked them in.

  Chance fought back a surge of tenderness. Something was getting to him. Maybe it was the sappy movie. Maybe it was the gorgeous woman standing on the opposite side of the bed, making his old Grateful Dead shirt look sexier than a black lace teddy. Whatever it was, he was fending off an unaccustomed attack of the warm fuzzies. He could get used to this, he thought.

  Almost.

  “There won’t be much room for you in that bed,” he said in a low voice.

  “I’ll manage.” She gave him a smile, ignoring what his words might’ve implied. “Don’t worry, I’ve done this before. I’ll just sleep around them, like a mother cat.”

  “You’re not going to bed now, are you?”

  “I thought I might.” She walked him to the open bedroom door. “I know it’s early, but it’s been a long day, and I’ve got the locksmith coming to my place in the morning. So thank you in advance for everything. I hope we haven’t put you out too much.”

  “Not at all.” Chance forced himself to turn toward the hall, but couldn’t take another step away from her. He wasn’t ready to say good night.

  If he let her go now, he would spend the rest of his life wondering what he could have done differently.

  His fingertips brushed her cheek, feeling her softness. “Come back downstairs with me, Harper,” he said. “Please. I think we need some grown-up time.”

  Chapter Five

  This wasn’t a good idea, Harper told herself. Chance Worthington was temptation wrapped in velvet. Every time he touched her, or even looked at her, she felt the danger to her heart. He was everything she’d ever wanted in a man—handsome, gentle, accomplished, great with her kids, and meltingly sexy. But falling for Chance would be like skydiving without a parachute. The ride would be thrilling. But the pain at the bottom would be swift and certain.

  She’d be a fool not to keep him at a distance.

  “Come on,” he said. “We’ve both had a hell of a day. We deserve some downtime—and I’ve got a good bottle of pinot noir downstairs, just begging to be opened.”

  Harper surrendered with a sigh. He was right. She needed a break. And she was a big girl. She could handle a glass of wine and a civilized conversation without getting in over her head. Before going back downstairs, she adjusted the bedroom door, leaving it open a few inches in case the girls woke up. Not that it was likely to happen. Jessy and Jenny were sound sleepers, and tonight they were wiped out.

  While Chance opened the wine, Harper busied herself cleaning up the pizza mess and wiping off the glass coffee table. She’d enjoyed watching the movie with her twins. Too often, at home, she had to plant them in front of the TV while she worked on her computer, calculating bids or updating her website. She needed to provide for her little family, even if her work cut into her mothering time. But she knew her girls were missing out. Sometimes the guilt was overwhelming.

  Chance dimmed the lamps and set a lighted candle on the table. The subtle, masculine scent of sage, blended with lavender, wafted into the room. “Sit down,” he said. “That’s an order.”

  Harper brushed an imaginary pizza crumb off the couch and took a seat. Chance set two crystal glasses on the table and poured three fingers of dark red wine into each. After handing one to Harper, he raised his glass in a toast.

  “Here’s to the wedding that didn’t happen. Cheers!”

  “Cheers!” Harper clinked glasses with him and took a sip of wine, letting the rich flavor warm her throat. “If your bride hadn’t run out, this would have been your wedding night,” she said. “Are you all right with that?”

  “Sometimes things work out for the best. Let’s hope this is one of those times.” He set the glass on the table. “Slide back and give me your feet. You’ve earned this.”

  Intrigued, Harper moved back against the corner of the couch and allowed him to lift her bare feet into his lap. He gave her a knowing smile. “After watching you run around in those high heels all day—and believe me, I was watching you—I know you’ve got to be feeling some pain. Just lean back and relax.”

  Harper sighed as his strong fingers began to massage the arches of her feet. “How does that feel?” he asked.

  “It feels positively wicked! Don’t you know it’s every woman’s fantasy to find a man who’ll give her foot rubs?”

  “So that’s the secret. Maybe I’ll keep it to myself.”

  Harper’s only reply was a little moan of pleasure. But as the exquisite sensations rippled up her legs, she couldn’t help imagining him rubbing Savannah’s pretty little feet. She’d gotten to know Chance’s fiancée when they’d planned the wedding together. Savannah was as smart and spirited as she was beautiful. But she hadn’t seemed all that excited about getting married. Her mother had made most of the decisions about the décor, the guest list, and the reception; it had been almost as if Savannah couldn’t be bothered.

  Was Chance missing his bride now, thinking about the wedding night that wasn’t going to happen, while he consoled himself with another woman? Harper was tempted to ask him. But that would be prying into his private thoughts—and it would spoil the pleasant coziness that had settled around them.

  “So tell me about yourself, Harper,” he said. “I’d like to know more about the woman sitting on my couch dressed in my Grateful Dead shirt.”

  Harper shrugged. “You’d only be bored. Nothing about me is very interesting.”

  “Let me be the judge of that.”

  “All right, if you’re sure. How much do you want to hear?”

  “Everything from the first moment you opened your eyes, if you feel like telling me.”

  “Keep rubbing my feet, and I’ll tell you anything you want to know.”

  His laughter was warm and reassuring. “For starters, you
can tell me a little about your history. Are you a Texas girl?”

  “Almost. I was born in Omaha. But after my dad left, when I was about the age of my daughters, my mom moved home to Abilene to be with her widowed mother. I grew up there. By the time I was twenty, both my mother and grandmother had passed on.”

  “And your father?”

  “We never heard from him again.”

  “I’m sorry. That must’ve been hard.”

  “It was. I had to grow up fast. But I learned to fend for myself—not a bad skill.”

  Chance’s fingers found a sensitive spot where her arch met the ball of her foot. She stifled a moan of pleasure.

  “What made you decide to become a wedding planner?” he asked.

  She took a sip of wine, savoring it before she spoke. “It was necessity. I was newly divorced, pregnant with twins, and needed a job. My friend had started a wedding planning business, and she was kind enough to hire me as a behind-the-scenes assistant. I did phone calls, billing, setting appointments, things I could manage mostly from home with the babies. The girls were two when my friend got married, moved out of town, and left me to take over the business. She’s still a financial partner, but I do the work and manage a team of five people, four of them part-time. Business has been good, but after today—” She shook her head. “We could be in for a rough patch. I worry—” She broke off. “See, I told you it would be boring.”

  “You were divorced and pregnant?”

  “Nigel, my husband, was a free spirit who’d never wanted children. When he found out I was pregnant, he demanded that I get an abortion. I refused, and he left—ran off with his massage therapist. How’s that for a soap opera ending?”

  “Unbelievable. He sounds like a real piece of work.” Chance’s thumbs stroked the base of her toes, soothing away the aches and pains from a day in high heels—which she wore to weddings for the sake of her professional image. She should ask him to stop this now, Harper thought. It felt too good. She could already imagine his hands moving upward, his touch igniting sparks of need.

  “Do you get any support from the jerk, or is that question too personal?” he asked.

  “It isn’t, and I don’t. When the divorce became final, he agreed to sign away his parental rights. He doesn’t deserve those girls, and they don’t need a person like him in their lives. I’d work my hands bloody before I’d ask him for a cent.”

  “And you haven’t found anybody else?”

  Harper shook her head. “Between my daughters and my work, I don’t have time for much of a social life. And I’m not in a hurry to make another mistake like the first one. If the magic ever happens again, it’ll be with a man who cares as much for my girls as he does for me. Meanwhile, I’ve got plenty on my plate to keep me busy . . . and that reminds me.” She sat upright and swung her feet to the floor. “My assistant said he’d text me when he got everything wrapped up at the Bluebird Inn.” She rose and turned away to get her purse, which she’d left on the kitchen counter. “I can’t believe I forgot to check my phone until now.”

  “Don’t.” He caught her hand, tugging her back toward him. “Sit down. You’re off the clock now.”

  “But I’m the one responsible.” She resisted slightly, but not enough to pull away.

  “Is your assistant a capable person? Do you trust her to handle things when you aren’t there?”

  “My assistant is a young man named Brad. He’s worked with me for two years and, yes, he’s very responsible.”

  “Then let him do his job. You don’t have to micromanage everything, Harper. You’ll just burn yourself out that way. Sit down and let yourself breathe.”

  He tugged a little more insistently, pulling her down beside him. This time, Harper let him. She sank back into the cushions with a weary sigh, still worrying about the wedding, the car, the locksmith, and her children.

  “That’s more like it.” Resting his hands on her shoulders, he turned her to face away from him. She felt the tension as his fingers began massaging her knotted muscles. “Relax. You’re as tight as a bowstring.”

  Harper closed her eyes. Little by little she felt her taut nerves begin to unclench. “You’ve missed your calling,” she murmured. “You could do this for a living.”

  “If I did it for a living, it wouldn’t be any fun, would it?” he teased.

  She stifled a moan as his fingers worked their way lower, skimming the back of her bra through the oversized T-shirt. Had he done this for Savannah when she was tired after a long day—given her foot massages and back rubs that ended in lovemaking? If she let Chance make love to her now—and something told her it could happen if she let it—would he be thinking of his lost bride? She’d tried to convince herself that the question was none of her business. Now, she realized, she needed to know.

  “Do you still love Savannah?” she asked.

  His hands paused. He was quiet for a moment before he answered. “I do. But not in the way you might think. I cared enough to want the best for her. And the best, as it turned out, wasn’t me. When she ran back up that aisle, kicking off her shoes and tearing off her veil, it was like watching a little wild bird fly out of a cage and take to the sky. I was shocked. But part of me wanted to cheer her on. Does that answer your question?”

  “I think so—not that I had any right to ask.”

  He turned her to face him again. It was as if his knowing gaze could see through all her barriers, all the fears, betrayals, and loneliness she never wanted to feel again. “You’re here,” he said. “That gives you the right.”

  His fingers cupped her chin. As his lips brushed hers, Harper’s pulse broke into a gallop. Heat blazed in the depths of her body, burning away all common sense. She wanted him. She needed him with a yearning hunger she was powerless to resist.

  She went molten against him. Her arms wrapped his neck, pulling him closer to deepen the kiss. Her tongue teased his—hesitantly at first, then in a sensual invitation that could mean only one thing.

  With a growl of arousal, he caught her close. As the kiss heated and caught fire, his hands found their way beneath the loose-fitting shirt. Ripples of pleasure flooded her body. She whimpered, wanting more, wanting his touch—wanting to feel him everywhere.

  Her pulse leaped as he unhooked the back of her bra and cradled her breast in his palm. A sweet ache radiated down through her body. She felt the throbbing need, the wetness that soaked her panties. “Yes . . .” she whispered, dizzy with wanting him. Later she might be sorry. But right now, she didn’t care. Nothing mattered but what this man was doing to her—and what she wanted him to do.

  “Upstairs.” His voice rasped the word. He lifted her to her feet and guided her up the dimly lit staircase to the landing and down the hallway. By the time they reached the bed, they were tearing off each other’s clothes. Chance yanked the covers down and paused to add protection. Then he was beside her in the bed, holding her, taking her body. She gave herself to the feel of him, the smell and taste of him as he carried her on a rocket ride to the stars.

  * * *

  Satisfied to the tips of her toes, Harper curled next to Chance, feeling his warmth and listening to the soft rumble of his breathing. Heaven.

  It would be all too easy to close her eyes and drift off beside him until morning. But her girls were sleeping in the guest room down the hall. She couldn’t risk having them wake in the night, afraid and unable to find their mother.

  Easing away from him, she slid to the edge of the bed and felt for the floor with her feet. Chance slumbered on, his eyes closed, his dark hair tumbling over his forehead. Tenderness surging, Harper checked the urge to reach out and stroke a fingertip down one stubbled cheek. His lovemaking had thrilled her beyond her wildest dreams. But it was over now, she told herself. It was time to wake up and face reality.

  The Grateful Dead shirt lay on the rug where she’d dropped it. She slipped it over her head, gathered up her bra and panties, and, with a last, lingering look at Chance, tipto
ed out of the room and down the hall.

  The twins were sound asleep, their little bodies sprawled across the bed. Harper shifted them far enough to make a space along one side of the mattress. There was just enough room for her to lie on her side, with a protective arm over her little ones. She slid into place and tugged the edge of the blanket over her hips. She wouldn’t be comfortable enough to sleep, but that didn’t matter. She had too much on her mind to rest.

  Lying in the dark with her eyes open, she forced her thoughts back to the real world. Her interlude with Chance had been wonderful—and needed. But it was time to walk away. She had a demanding job and two daughters to look after. And Chance was recovering from a shattered relationship. Whatever he might have told her, he had loved Savannah enough to propose to her. And if Savannah changed her mind and came back to him, Harper had little doubt that he would still want her as his wife.

  He would want her back, even though he’d just cheated on her with another woman—a silly, romantic fool who’d meant nothing to him.

  Heaven help her, what had she done?

  * * *

  Chance opened his eyes. It was morning, and he was alone in the bed. No surprise there. Harper would have long since gone back to her children. Too bad. He would have enjoyed picking up where they’d left off last night.

  For a few moments, he lay still, remembering her luscious body in his arms and her sweet little cries as he brought her to climax again and again. Whatever their differences, he and Harper certainly had no problem in bed. For him, at least, the next time couldn’t happen soon enough. The thought of more time with her, getting acquainted both in and out of bed, had him looking forward to the days and weeks ahead.

  Maybe, if he could talk her into it, he could even buy extra plane tickets and take her and the twins to Hawaii. It was a crazy idea, but worth some thought.