Putting Out Old Flames (24 page)

“It's for charity,” he said dryly. “Your money will be just as happily accepted as anyone else's.”

“Still. It just feels wrong. And hokey.” And daunting.

He shrugged, his chest heaving beneath her face. “Okay. If you're fine seeing me go out on a date with another woman, I don't have a problem with it, either.”

Jane tightened her grip. Crap. He was right. She couldn't let that happen. Still, she didn't want to give up so easily. “Who said it'll be another woman who gets you? I've seen Paul eyeing your poster all night.”

Chance pushed her away an inch so he could look down at her. “Paul? Who the hell is Paul?”

“Our florist.”

Tipping his head to one side, he pursed his lips. “I inspected the florist shop on Third. Was that Paul?”

“Did you kick him out of his business, as well?” Jane couldn't keep the annoyance from her voice. Her mother was safely ensconced back in her own home now, but the memory of kale chips defiling her oven still brought a shudder to her bones. Some scars ran deep.

He tucked her close to his body, his heat soothing her irritation.

Snuggling in, she sighed. “Yes, that was Paul.”

“Huh.” Grabbing her hand, Chance spun her out, startling Jane, and pulled her back in. “He was built. But if you're fine, seeing me go out on a date with a hot guy . . .”

She laughed. That was what she'd missed most. Okay, the sex had become Oscar worthy and ran a close second. But she'd never laughed as much in her life as she did when she was with Chance. He could keep a smile on her face for hours. And that was something she didn't want to let go.

“We'll see.” Jane looped her arms around his neck. “If it doesn't cut into my shoe budget, then maybe.”

“I don't think I like how I rank.”

“Then you're just going to have to work a little harder, aren't you?” She tried to smother her smile, but the edges of her lips tugged up.

Chance narrowed his eyes, bent his head down so his mouth brushed against the shell of her ear. “When I get you in bed tonight, you'll see just how hard I can work.”

Holy Hades
. Her temperature spiked. Being near Chance was like being pre-menopausal. Hot flashes popping up out of thin air. “I look forward to your efforts.”

“Screw waiting. There's a gazebo outside. We're going—”

“Jane, there you are.” Edith stepped next to them. She'd forgone her long, flowy dresses in favor of a fifties-style gown, its stiff skirt and sweetheart neckline giving her an hourglass figure.

“You look great, Mom.”

Chance kissed Edith's cheek. “As beautiful as your daughter.”

“I'm glad someone thinks so,” Edith muttered.

Jane shared a look with Chance. He raised an eyebrow.

“Mom, what are you—”

“It doesn't matter. But Jane”—Edith tugged on Jane's arm—“Mrs. Bronkowski is saying that Mrs. Harper changed her one into a seven on the silent auction form to get the Lord of the Rings garden gnomes. She's threatening to call the
Pineville Gazette
. We don't want a scandal associated with our fundraiser.”

“I hardly think that qualifies as a scandal,” Jane said. Her mother gave her that look, the one that had sent her scurrying back to her room to do her homework. She sighed, stepping out of Chance's arms. “But I'll go see what I can do.”

Chance took a step after her.

“And I should get back to Leon afterward,” she added.

He put his hands on his hips, his mouth tight, but nodded. “I'll see you later.” It was part demand, part plea, and the glower that accompanied it was all heat.

A delicious tingle kept her company as she walked away, adding a slight hip swing to her step, knowing Chance's eyes followed her. Tonight was going to be fun.

She approached the two bickering older women, one of them holding a stumpy Gandalf snug to her chest.

It would be fun
after
the ball, she promised herself, and dove into the melee. Twenty minutes later, she had both ladies moderately unhappy, a compromise they could each live with. Turning to look for Chance—nope, she meant Leon, he was her date—she was stopped once again by the sight of an unhappy woman. This time her mother.

Jane joined her in front of the painting by the unknown artist, which Edith had donated. “Mrs. Bronkowski isn't going to alert the media. You don't have to worry about that.”

Her mother's shoulders slumped. “That's good.”

“Mom, what's wrong?”

“Nothing. I've just been foolish.” Edith stared at the painting. It rested on a low stand on the table. “A lot of people are bidding on this. I thought if he saw that, he'd understand how good his work is. But it just made him mad when I showed him. He said some things . . .”

Jane wrapped an arm around her mother's waist, rested her head against her silvering hair. “Who? Who painted this?”

Edith didn't answer. “I don't think he'll ever forgive me. He was so mad,” she whispered.

A deep brogue thundered behind them. “Don't be daft, woman. I'm right ticked off, but I don't think there's anything you could do I wouldn't forgive.”

Jane spun. “Chief Finnegan. You painted that?”

“Aye,” he said, his gaze never leaving her mother.

Jane stepped closer to her mom. She'd noticed that the chief's accent intensified when he was upset. He'd been barely understandable over the radio when Sam Hunt had crashed an engine into a fire hydrant. Water had shot thirty feet in the air and flooded the street. His anger had been justified.

“And I didn't paint it so you could sell it. I painted it for you.” Taking a step forward, he lifted Edith's hand. “I wanted you to have something of me.”

Awww
. Jane looked at the two of them. Her mom glowed, and the chief looked at her mother like he couldn't believe his luck. Her mom and Chief Finnegan. He was the man Jane would have chosen for her mother, and the sneaky woman had been seeing him all along. How had Jane missed this?

Skirt flouncing, Edith spun around and wrote an exorbitant amount down on the bidding sheet.

“Mom!” Jane widened her eyes. “That's really generous. Can you aff—”

“After all the money these guys saved me with my electrical upgrade, it's the least I can do.” She threaded an arm through Finnegan's. “But I might need to borrow some money when I bid on Sean during the bachelor auction. I'm not letting this one get away.”

Sean Finnegan whispered something in Edith's ear, and she flushed bright red.

Looking satisfied at her response, the chief nodded his head at Jane and pulled her mother away, a proprietary hand on her hip.

“Huh.” Leon walked up to her, crunching ice. “I didn't know your mom and the chief were a couple.”

“Neither did I.”

“Isn't she a little old for him?” Leon asked.

Jane shot him a scathing look. “
Maybe
she's five years older. You wouldn't think anything of that if the roles were reversed.”

He shrugged.

“I think the bachelor auction is going to start soon and I want to get my bidding placard.” Jane strode toward the table near the stage, Leon trailing at her heels. “I hope you don't mind that I'm going to bid on Chance tonight.”

Leon held up his hands, spilling a bit of his drink with the motion. “I've got no problems with Chance. Be sure to tell him I said that.”

Jane patted his arm. “I'm sorry about that earlier. I'm going to have a chat with Chance about him trying to mark his territory.”

Leon didn't look convinced. “Just tell him that we're friends. Just friends. Right?”

“He knows, Leon.” Picking up a red placard, Jane practiced flashing it with a little wrist flick. She'd never participated in an auction before. Would the slightest move put her on the hook for a bid?

“Speak of the devil.” Leon paused on their way across the floor, took a subtle step behind Jane. Chance and Katie stood a couple of feet ahead, their gazes trained on the dance floor.

Jane took a step forward, wanting to say hello to Katie. Hearing her name, she paused.

“So things sound like they're getting serious,” Katie said, her shoulders moving to the beat of the music. “I'm glad you took my advice.”

“What advice was that?” Chance asked.

Jane stepped back. She gave Leon an uncomfortable smile. She didn't want to eavesdrop, but if she approached them now, they might think that's what she'd been doing. She'd walk away with Leon and say hello to Katie another time.

But Katie's next words stopped her cold.

“That you get Jane to marry you to keep custody of Josh.” Katie wound her arm around Chance's. “There's no way Annette will get her slimy hands on him once the judge sees sweet and sensible Jane as his new mother.”

Jane fell back, stumbling on her heels. Only Leon's hand at her elbow kept her from taking a seat on the floor. Her head felt light, as if all the blood had drained from it, only to come thundering back, pounding in her temples. What the hell? Was Chance going to propose? And had he only gotten close to her in order to keep custody?

She sucked in a breath. Rubbing at the ache under her breastbone, she examined the facts. Chance loved Josh and would do anything to keep him. Jane had no illusions about how she ranked in Chance's life, and was fine with the pecking order. Josh should come first. But she wasn't willing to be an ignorant pawn in Chance's scheme.

Fact two, Chance had a history of screwing her over to achieve his goals. He hadn't cared about her feelings when she hadn't fit into his plans for college, just cut her out of his life.

She took another step back, saw Chance smile at his sister. She could no longer hear their conversation over the pounding in her ears.

She didn't need to hear. His smile said it all. He agreed with his sister. He'd made Jane a part of his plan and it was all falling into place.

“I have to leave,” she whispered. People jostled into her from both sides, and the faintest hint of panic threaded through her body. Maybe she was claustrophobic. What else could explain why it felt like the walls were closing in on her? It didn't help that she was technically in a cave.

Leon's brows drew together. “Are you getting married, Jane?”

She huffed out a harsh laugh. “No.”

“Then . . .” He looked stumped. “I don't get it.”

Jane fled. Leon stopped her as she hit the dirt parking lot. “Hold up, Jane. Let me drive you home.”

Leon was sweet. And she was an idiot for not falling for a man like him. Leon would never try to trick a woman into marrying him. But they'd driven to the ball separately, and she'd never been so happy to have her own wheels. She just wanted to get in her car and get the hell away from there. Alone.

“I'll be fine. But thanks.” She'd be fine after a bottle or two of wine. Damn, she should have snagged a couple of bottles before leaving the cave. Chance's SUV sat in the pool of light cast from an overhead lamp, drawing her attention. Maybe she'd feel better if she ran her key along the door, she thought, knowing that was pointless and she'd never do it. But it was easier to feel betrayed and angry. If she didn't have those feelings, all she'd be left with was devastation.

“I don't think you should drive when you're this upset,” Leon said. “I'll drive you home and have one of my buddies take your car to your house.”

Lifting her chin, she wiped at her cheek. “Go back inside, Leon. Have a good time. If anyone asks, tell them I had a headache and went home.”

That was pretty close to the truth. Only the organ that was aching was just below her head. As she stumbled to her car, her vision blurred. She got the door shut before she crumpled. A sob tore out of her throat, past the burn in her chest.

Twice. She'd fallen for his crap twice. But unlike in high school, this time Jane's feelings had matured. She loved him, the kind of love that would have fed her soul for the rest of her life.

And he'd broken her heart. Again.

J
ane rolled over in bed, peeled another tissue off her face. Her life seemed to have gone full circle, in more ways than one. If she cared about things like self-esteem and pride, she would have been disgusted by her behavior. Moping in bed. Over Chance. Again.

Picking up the damp tissue from her pillow, she blew her nose. She tossed it in the direction of her wastepaper basket. From the look of disgust in Cy's eye, she guessed she'd missed.

After sending a text to her mother, telling her she was okay but wanted to be alone, Jane had turned off her phone, unplugged her seldom-used landline, and ignored all knocks at her door. And there had been several. Some pounding and bellowing, too, but it was amazing how well a down comforter and pillow excelled at cancelling out the noise.

And so went Saturday. By Sunday, Jane knew she had to get her act together. She had a shift that afternoon, and no way would she let Chance reduce her to some nonfunctioning idiot who couldn't work because of man problems. That, and she was out of ice cream and Pop-Tarts. She needed to go out anyway.

She dragged through her shower, only put on the bare minimum of makeup. Girl sense, the fun neighbor of common sense, told her she should dress to impress, put on something tight and clingy in case she ran into Chance. But she couldn't muster the energy, and pulled on the first pair of baggy jeans she came across.

Crunching on a bowl of cereal, she stared at the desk where she'd laid
the card
. Would Chance have found something equally trite for his proposal? Had Hallmark come up with a little rhyme for that?
I don't love you, but want to make you my wife, to help keep my son in my life
?

Cy jumped onto her lap and kneaded his claws into her thigh. She grimaced before distracting him with a chin scratch. “I know I'm pathetic. You don't have to rub my nose in it.” He circled three times before flopping down on his back, batting at her hand until she rubbed his stomach.

“I am not rolling over and playing dead. I'm just regrouping,” she told Cy. He opened his good eye, looked at her with disbelief. His claw caught on the skin between her thumb and forefinger.

Shaking loose, Jane sucked at the tiny wound. “I never should have fed you and given you a home after I found you in that alley. You're supposed to take my side.” He puffed out a breath, rolled onto his side, and curled into a ball. His purrs ripped through the living room. He knew she was a sucker and would never throw him out. He didn't have to play nice with her.

Her heart burned. She was a doormat. Apparently everyone had her figured out, and she was the last to know. She glared at the card through narrowed eyes. It was past time to change that. Cy could stay and keep walking all over her, literally and figuratively, but he was the only one. She needed to demand respect. No more pathetic dates with nice guys who didn't want anything more from her than a second player for their games. And no more falling for men who put their plans ahead of her needs. Time to take control of her life.

And that started with letting go of her past. Scooping up Cy, she deposited him on the cushion, ignoring his angry hiss. She strode to the desk, plucked up the card. She didn't look at it as she walked to the kitchen, pulled out a barbecue lighter from a drawer, and put a flame to it. The shiny cardstock burned an odd green, and the paper curled before turning black and flaking. Jane dropped it into the sink and watched it burn.

She didn't feel like a weight had lifted or that she'd overcome some great burden, but she wasn't sad to let that memory go. Even though the same man had screwed her over twice, she wasn't going to cling to the hurt. She was going to move forward with an open mind and heart. Her mother would be proud.

And she would start by stopping at Starbucks for a vanilla chai latte instead of her usual black coffee. Time to let loose.

She snorted. And if that wasn't absolutely pathetic, she didn't know what was.

Grabbing her keys, she swung open the door and ran into a hard wall of muscle. “What the hell?” She sputtered. “Were you squatting below the peephole?”

“Leaning on the wall next to the door. Waiting”—Chance checked his watch—“for hours.”

Jane pulled the door shut. “Well, you can keep waiting. We're not talking.”

Brushing past him, she trotted to the stairs.

His long-legged stride matched her pace. “Like hell we're not talking. I've been pounding on your door for a day and a half.” He pushed open the door to the apartment building and held it. “I know what you think you heard. But if you'd just let me explain—”

“What I heard was self-explanatory. I don't need the footnotes.” She hurried through the parking lot, head down. Pointing her key fob at her car, she unlocked the doors.

Chance ripped the car door from her grip, slammed it closed. “We're going to talk whether you want to or not,” he growled. Placing his palm on her driver's-side window, he leaned against it, barring her entry. “When Katie said I should marry you—”

Jane snapped. She was supposed to be starting her new carefree lifestyle, not wallowing in the past and pathetic excuses. For the first time, Chance was ruining
her
plans. And it was pissing her off. She didn't want to listen to him, didn't want to hear his reasons. She grabbed a finger and yanked.

He yelped. “Christ!” Shaking his hand, he glared at her. “Stop acting like a child. Let's sit down somewhere and talk.”

“Can't.” She slid behind the wheel. “I'm getting a coffee then going to work.”

“I'll buy you the damn coffee.”

“No thanks.” The slamming of her door cut off his reply. He reached for the door handle and Jane hit the locks.

Chance's eyes darkened to obsidian. Whoa, he was pissed. Well, he could stew in it for a while. She put the car in gear but waited for him to step back so she didn't run over his feet. She wasn't that pissed off. Probably.

He moved to the front of the car, put his hands on the hood, and glared at her through the windshield. Damn her conscience. She should have taken out a toe. And damn her penchant for backing into parking spaces. He had her boxed in. Unless she ran him down.

She shook her head. No. No running down her ex-boyfriend. No matter how manipulative he was. Besides, his arms were bulging under his T-shirt, his chest heaving with irritation. He looked kind of Hulk-like, and she didn't know if her small car would win in a battle between the two.

Putting the car into park, she rolled down her window. “You're going to want to move it.”

“I thought you trusted me.” She read his lips more than heard him. And she was glad of it. She didn't want to hear the hurt she saw written over his face. Didn't want to hear his side of the story. Her chest was tight, her eyes burned. She guessed she wasn't ready to let go of her hurts quite yet. She'd have to work on that. Tomorrow.

“And I thought you'd changed,” she said. “That you weren't still a slave to your precious plans. I know you're desperate to keep Josh, but this plan really sucked. Now get out of my way.”

Turning his head to the side, he took a deep breath. His shoulders slumped, and Jane knew he'd given up. A pin stabbed her heart. That was a good thing, him giving up. She wouldn't have to listen to his BS. Then why did she want to throw her arms around him and beg him not to leave?

He pushed off the car, gave her one last look, and walked away.

Jane let out a ragged sob. She should be as dehydrated as a raisin, but her eyes filled with more tears. How come he was the one who screwed her over and she was the one who felt like the bad guy? Gripping the steering wheel, she sucked in a shaky breath. Her lungs burned with the effort. Or was that her heart? It felt like it'd died. Only fitting it be cremated, too.

Pulling out of her parking space, she had to wipe her eyes twice in order to look both ways. No way was she stopping for coffee looking and acting like this. She went straight to work and settled in a half hour before her shift began.

A piece of chewing gum snapped. “Jane? What are you doing here so early?”

“Hi, Sharon.” Jane turned on her computer. “Just thought I'd get some things organized.”

A wall of dark hair crested the cubicle divider. “Uh-huh.” Sharon rested her arms on the low wall. “So you coming in here early looking like you just saw
Sophie's Choice
has nothing to do with a certain fireman who you've been sleeping with for a month and who ran out of the ball before the bachelor auction looking for you?”

Jane scowled. “What have you heard about it?”

“There are a couple rumors.” Sharon blew a bubble, sucked it back in. “One is that you're the secret mama to Chance's son, but because of your drug addiction, you gave Josh up to Chance and never looked back. You heartless bitch,” she teased.

Jane dropped her face into her hands. “And the other?”

“That Chance asked you to marry him and because you don't want to be a mother, you dropped him.” Sharon shook her head. “That's the one Leon's spreading, but it sounded fishy to me.”

Jane sputtered. “How did Leon get that—” She rubbed her temples. “It doesn't matter. I'm not going to get mad at Leon, too, even if he is a moron.”

“So what did happen?”

Picking up her headset, Jane twisted the cord around her finger. “I overheard Chance and his sister talking about him marrying me in order to keep custody of Josh. Apparently having a two-parent household sways judges in their consideration.”

“And he never discussed this with you?” Sharon asked. She whistled at Jane's head shake. “So he led you on, acting like it was all a whirlwind romance when he really just wanted a baby mama?”

Christ, put like that, it sounded horrible. “Well . . .”

“That's fraud. Fraud and a con job.” Sharon's red lips thinned. “I say tonight after work, we go out drinking. Then we find your con man, lure him out of his house, and—” Sharon ground her fist into her open palm.

“Give him an Indian burn?”

“No! We kick his ass. His hard, chiseled ass.” Sharon's eyes went soft. “Since you're not seeing him anymore, you can tell me. Under that uniform, is he as hot as he looks?”

Jane's stomach plummeted. “Hotter.” And she was never going to see it again.

“Nothing to ruin my fantasies? No third nipple or double toe?”

“I don't even know what that is, but no, he's pretty perfect.” Damn him. “But what are you doing fantasizing about my . . .” Ex-boyfriend, ex-lover, ex-friend. She hated all those exes. “My almost fiancé?” Yeah, like that didn't sound pathetic at all.

Sharon raised a waxed eyebrow. “You're sounding awfully touchy for a woman who just dumped the man. What's the matter? You're not still attached to the slime, are you?”

“He's not slime.” Jane felt her temper rise with her body temperature. “He's just worried about losing his son.”

“Wait.” Her friend's brow drew down. “I thought we were at the point where we bash the ex. Why are you defending him?”

“I'm not defending him.”

“You sure about that? Because it kinda sounds like you are.” She rested her head on her forearms. “You got in deep, didn't you?”

Shoulders slumped, Jane rubbed her forehead. “Sometimes it feels like with Chance, I never got out of it. I think I've loved him since high school. I don't want to believe he used me, but I know what I heard.”

“Well, how does Chance explain it?” Sharon asked.

Jane sucked her bottom lip into her mouth.

Sharon cocked her head. “You did let Chance defend himself, right?”

Crickets chirped.

“Sweet Jesus. You don't think you owed him that much?” The condemnation in her friend's eyes shamed Jane.

Jane poked at a notepad, pushing it across her desk. “I didn't want to hear his excuses. All they'd do is insult me more.”

Walking around the cubicle, Sharon came to stand in front of Jane. She looked down on her with sympathy. “Or maybe you don't want to hear that he didn't con you. You're using this as an excuse to cut and run.”

“Why the hell would I do that?” Jane got to her feet, not liking her friend's height advantage. She also didn't like how reasonable she sounded. “I wanted nothing more than for Chance to be the guy I thought he was, to have a future with him.”

“Honey, ever since I've known you, you've always sabotaged your romances.” She raised a hand at Jane's protest. “First there was that Neanderthal from Clarion Township. You knew there was no future in that, but you wasted four months with him. And he didn't even show you a good time while you were dating.”

“Marco wasn't that bad.” He'd been worse. He'd grunt at her to pass the ketchup, and kissed like a fish.

“Please. He was barely literate. And you kept saying you thought he had a good soul underneath his rough exterior.” Sharon snorted. “But he was crap all the way through.”

“Okay, that's one. But—”

“And then there's Leon,” Sharon continued.

“Leon's not a Neanderthal. He actually is a nice guy.”

Shaking her head, Sharon sighed. “A nice guy who for the past eight months you've been going out with twice a week, knowing there was no way in hell you wanted a future with him. He was the safe date who kept you from having to think about going out with other men. You put yourself on the shelf.”

“Hey.” Jane's jaw dropped open. “I had fun with Leon.”