Putting Out Old Flames (5 page)

“Why did you pull me back?” she asked, her voice sharper than she'd intended. But better to sound bitchy than scared. “I could have pushed random buttons.”

He raised that damned eyebrow. “Relax. We'll be out of here soon. You're not claustrophobic, are you?” Running his finger down the certificate taped to the wall, he frowned. “Christ,” he muttered. “It figures.”

Jane ignored the certificate and concentrated on what was important. His absurd accusation. “'Course not.” She pulled her tank away from the front of her body, fanned herself with the fabric. “I just have a lot to get done today. My to-do list for this fundraiser is huge, and I don't want to waste time stuck in a tin can with you.”

“I'm your cochair. If you'd unclench a little and bring me up-to-date, I could help you with that list.” He pushed a red button. “And you didn't used to feel that way. The backseat of my Chevy truck was a lot smaller than this, and you didn't have any complaints about ‘wasting time' with me then.”

Only the side of his face was visible, but it was enough for Jane to see the edge of his lips tipped up in a smile. Her chest burned. “I'll have you know—”

“Shh,” he said, as a crackling noise came from a speaker in the panel. “Hello, anyone there?”

“This is Rajesh with Ford Elevator Company? We're registering that you're calling from elevator number two at the Regency Hotel in Pineville, Michigan. Is that correct?”

“That's correct,” Chance said. “We're stuck between the first and second floors. Can we get some help out here?”

Silence.

Jane leaned forward to jab the red button again. “Did we lose them? Hello? Can you hear me?”

“Stop pushing that.” He grabbed her hand.

“Ma'am, we can hear you,” the voice from the speaker said. “I'm notifying the hotel now. Does anyone inside the elevator need medical attention?”

“No,” Chance said at the same time Jane asked, “How long is that going to take?”

He shushed her. Actually shushed her. Placing her hands on her hips, she narrowed her eyes. “Don't shush me. We could suffocate in here, and you're having a nice little chat with the operator.”

“We're going to be fine.” He turned back to the speaker, dismissing her concerns.

“Air is a limited resource!”

Chance wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her backside flush to his front. He covered her mouth with his hand, and her temperature spiked. He might have been able to pull that crap when they were kids, but he was in for a rude awakening.

She ground the heel of her shoe into his foot. Why couldn't she have been wearing spiky heels today instead of her Keds? Of course, he was only wearing loafers, and she wasn't exactly a lightweight. She should be able to inflict some pain.

Besides pulling her tighter against his chest, he ignored her assault. Leaning toward the call box, he said, “Everyone's fine in here, except for some mental instability. Just send maintenance, no emergency services needed.”

Mental instability? Oh, hell no. Grabbing one of his fingers, she tried to bend it backward, tear it from her mouth.

He sighed. “Will you relax? I just want to finish my conversation with the operator. Stop acting out.”

She'd heard him use that same condescending voice with Josh when he'd been misbehaving. She growled, incensed, but Chance ignored it. She couldn't beat him. Couldn't argue with him. So Jane licked him. It was just like they were teenagers again. The first time he'd muffled her, he'd been calling in sick to their high school, pretending to be Jane's father. She couldn't stop giggling, and he didn't want her to ruin their scam. She'd licked him then, too, just to be a brat. It had become a custom in their play fights, and here she was, falling into the same pattern.

She was ashamed of herself. Really, she was. But damn, he still tasted salty sweet, like honey-roasted peanuts. She remembered he tasted that way all over. A tingle started at the base of her spine, and she realized just how snugly she was pressed against the man behind her.

“Christ.” He removed his hand and wiped it on her shirt over her stomach. Another holdover from childhood. His broad palm rested just below her breasts, and her breathing sped up. “We're adults now. You shouldn't be licking me.” His body tensed. “Well . . .”

Jane jerked out of his grip. She didn't want him to finish that thought. Pulling the tank away from her heated skin, she scowled. “You started it. I could charge you with assault.”

Chance twisted his lips, shook his head. “Janey-girl . . .” Hands on lean hips, he eyed the ceiling of the elevator.

She mimicked his stance. “Don't ‘Janey-girl' me.”

The speaker crackled. “The hotel has acknowledged our request for maintenance,” Rajesh said. “If an emergency arises, please let us know. Otherwise, have a nice day.” The speaker went silent.

Jane snorted.
Have a nice day?
Not likely. The walls on either side seemed to inch a little closer. “How long do you think it will take to get us out of here?”

Crossing his arms across his chest, he leaned back against the doors. “It depends on how responsive the maintenance crew is here at the hotel. Probably not long.”

She cleared her throat. “Do you think . . . do you think we have enough air?”

He chuckled. Then stopped when he saw her expression. “You're serious, aren't you?” Pushing off the wall, he rubbed his hands up and down her arms. “Hey, we won't be here long, and there's plenty of air. We're not in an airtight box. We get air from the elevator shaft, too.”

She swayed closer. Not close enough to touch, but enough so the warmth from his body soothed her like an old blanket. She hated herself for wanting that comfort, but she didn't move away. So what if he'd dumped her by leaving her a greeting card. He was here now, and he was a different man. In the past decade, he'd become a father, lost a wife, and embarked on a career that helped those in need.

Not that his dream of becoming a neurosurgeon wouldn't have saved lives. Chance had always wanted to help people. But the fact that he'd chosen a blue-collar profession surprised her. The McGoverns had been solidly upper middle-class, his father a pediatrician and his mother an accountant. A postgraduate education had been expected of Chance.

Jane liked his new career path. It made him more approachable.

She inched closer, his hands on her arms slowing from a brisk rub to a caress. Their eyes latched on to each other, and a shiver zipped down her spine. Heat flared in his chocolate eyes.

She took a large breath. This was probably a bad idea. A really bad idea. Kissing Chance would be spiraling backwards, and she'd long ago promised herself that she wouldn't live in the past.

He stepped closer, his chest brushing the tips of her breasts. Jane bit back a moan. Screw it. He was sexy, had been kind enough to try to comfort her, and even as a teenager had been one of the best kissers with whom she'd ever had the pleasure to lock lips. Tilting her head back, she waited, his soft breath brushing across her mouth. He leaned down.

With a jolt, the elevator screeched, rolled upwards. Chance frowned, looked over at the doors. When he turned back to Jane, she'd already stepped back. The doors dinged before sliding open.

“Saved by the bell, huh?” He shoved his hands in his pockets.

Voices in the hall stopped Jane's response, which was good, because she didn't have one. A maintenance man stood on the other side of the open doors, looking down the hall. “This one's working now, ma'am.” He turned and smiled at Jane. “Sorry about the inconvenience.”

“Do you know this elevator is eight months past inspection?” Chance stepped around Jane and pressed his hand to the doors to keep them open. “Who's in charge of maintaining them?”

“Uh . . .” The maintenance man scratched his head.

A feminine voice floated into the elevator. “Chance? What are you doing here?”

The shoulders under his polo hardened into boulders. Curious, Jane peeked around the doors, into the hall. A tall woman in a flirty floral dress and three-inch heels gave Chance a tentative smile. A wrap-sweater was tied with a bow around her waist, showcasing her trim figure. Its cream color stood in stark contrast with the swath of shiny dark hair that swung loose around her shoulders.

“I was hoping to see you today, but thought I'd have to track you down.” The woman laughed, a musical tinkle. “Who would've thought you'd come to me?”

A muscle spasmed in Chance's jaw. “Annette. What in the hell are you doing here?”

The maintenance man grinned in delight. Anyone could sense a fight was brewing, and Jane could tell he was one of those people who relished having a front-row seat for the drama.

Jane ducked under Chance's arm and stepped into the hallway, taking a deep breath when she emerged out of the box. The tension rolling off of Chance had made the elevator even more stifling. Chance had just moved to Pineville. Did he already have an angry ex-girlfriend?

The woman's charming smile faded. Her mouth tightened, fine lines appearing around her lips. “You know why I'm here.”

A dark flush crept up Chance's neck, mottling his face. He looked like he was about to blow.

Jane stepped close to Chance. Her hand itched to rub his back. She asked, “What's going on? Is something wrong?”

“Nothing's wrong.” He glanced down at Jane, regret and resignation flickering over his face. Running a hand down his cheek, he sighed. “I was just hoping I'd seen the last of this woman for a good long time.”

“Why? Who is she?”

He opened his mouth, but nothing came out. His gaze darted across Jane's face before settling back on the woman.

Annette stepped forward, raised her hand to shake Jane's. “His manners never were much to talk about. Hi. I'm Annette McGovern. Chance's wife.”

J
ane's stomach plummeted to her toes. She shook the woman's hand in a daze. “I'm sorry, I must have misheard. I thought Chance's wife . . . I thought she was . . . uh . . .”

Chance cursed under his breath, and Jane knew she hadn't misheard. She was shaking hands with his wife, Josh's mother. She snapped her hand back. Putting on a cool smile, she said, “Jane Willoughby.” She stepped away from Chance. “It looks like you'll be busy here. I'll go to the ballroom and meet with the manager.”

She took two steps before his hand snagged her elbow. He swung her around to face him.

“Jane, it's not what you think.”

She looked past him, not wanting to see regret in his eyes. Annette folded her arms across her chest and cocked her head, staring at the pair of them. She didn't seem upset that her husband was in a hotel with another woman. She looked curious. And amused.

Tucking his finger under her chin, he raised her face to his. “Just listen to me for a second.”

Oh, hell no. He wasn't allowed to lie to her again and think an apology would cut it. “Oh? So your wife is dead? That woman there is just a crazy stalker?”

He swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down. “I never said my wife was dead.”

Her chest felt tight, like the walls of the elevator were still pressing in on her. Chance's
wife
checked her watch, and the maintenance guy looked like he wanted popcorn with the show. She needed to get away. “My mistake.”

She made it ten feet before he grabbed her again. “Why are you so mad about this? You've met Josh, you must know I had a wife.” Running his hand through his short hair, he blew out a harsh breath.

Like this was her problem. Like she was the one being unreasonable. Heat rocketed up her neck to her face. She knew she must look like an angry tomato. “I don't care that you have a wife. You could be a bigamist and it wouldn't matter to me. Why I'm ‘mad'”—she was too ticked to be embarrassed about using rabbit fingers around that word—“is that I thought you might have changed in ten years.”

His eyebrows slammed together. “What are you talking about?”

“You're never honest,” she hissed, leaning into him and poking his chest. “You should have just told me you were still married, like you should have told me you had another future planned out. One that didn't include me.” She didn't know which was worse. That she was dredging up decade-old hurts like some pathetic woman clinging to her high school glory years, or that it felt so good to let him have it. She finally had her target in front of her.

“Jane.” His voice held regret. And a tinge of pity.

She was surprised she didn't spontaneously combust. Heat and anger rolled off of her in waves. Time to pull it back from her hangups to his screwups. “You might not have outright said it, but you sure as hell implied that you were a widower. Are you even divorced?”

He hesitated. “Almost. Just waiting for the judge's signature.”

She snorted.

Chance dipped his head, lowered his voice. “I was eighteen, and you're right. I acted like a jerk. This is a different situation. I wasn't hiding my wife, I just didn't want to talk about her. It hasn't been an easy divorce.”

The pain in his eyes deflated her righteous indignation, like a nail to a tire causing a slow leak. He sounded so reasonable. She might have read more into his comment about his wife being gone than she should have. Maybe.

“Besides.” Chance crossed his arms across his chest and narrowed his eyes. “I'm not the one who almost cheated on her boyfriend by kissing me in the elevator. My relationship with Annette is over. Yours with bailiff-boy still seems on.”

And just like that her understanding evaporated. “
Leon's
and my relationship is none of your business. And I wasn't about to kiss you.” Mimicking his position, she crossed her arms across her chest. The aggressive stance didn't look as tough on her as it did on Chance. “I was feeling a little light-headed from the lack of oxygen.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Look.” She dug in her purse, pulled out her spiral notebook, and made some notations. “You deal with your wife. I'll deal with the hotel.” With a vicious yank, she tore her to-do list off, shoved it into his chest. “You wanted to be brought up-to-date? Here's what you have to do. You handle those, I'll handle the rest, and we don't have to talk to each other about it.”

“Fine,” he bit out.

“Good.” Turning on her heel, she stalked off, his glare searing her the entire walk down the hallway. At the door to the ballroom, she forced herself not to look back. She didn't want him to see that he had the power to hurt her yet again.

The manager was waiting for her inside, and came toward her, hand outstretched. She put on a smile and made herself a promise. She'd get through this fundraiser with Chance. It was too important to let hurt feelings get in the way.

But once it was over, she'd make sure that her errands didn't take her past Firehouse 10 ever again.

* * *

Annette led Chance back to her room. Following her inside, he slammed the door behind them. Or he tried to. The damned thing was on some sort of hydraulics. It lazily hissed its way across the carpet, mocking his angry gesture.

“What the hell do you think you're doing just showing up here like this?” Picking her purse up off the desk, he tossed it on the bed and cocked a hip onto the empty space.

“I came to see Josh.” She sat on the thin tan bedspread and crossed one slim leg over the other. “He's my son, too.”

“Yes. And when I'm granted
permanent
full custody, I don't intend to cut you out of his life.” He narrowed his eyes. “Aren't you supposed to be in rehab?”

Smoothing the skirt of her dress, she said, “It wasn't mandatory. I checked myself out.”

“Of course you did.” He didn't bother trying to keep the disgust out of his voice. A gambling addiction might be considered an illness, but he couldn't forget, or forgive, her actions.

“I was there for two weeks. I learned plenty and I'm doing better.” Standing, Annette strode to the minibar, pulled out a tiny bottle of white wine. “Want anything?”

“Not from you.”

Rolling her eyes, she poured herself a glass. Eyeing him over the rim, Annette said, “I met someone.”

“Congratulations.”

“We're getting married.”

He crossed his arms over his chest, not liking where this was going. “Seems awfully sudden considering we only separated eight months ago. Were you having an affair?” He hoped she was. It might be one more piece of ammunition in his case to keep full custody of Josh.

Annette took a deep breath and walked to the window. “No. I met Edward after.” Flicking the curtain open, she looked out. “God, how can you live here? When I drove in from the airport I thought I was in Mayberry.”

“They had a job opening and it was two thousand miles away from you,” Chance said. “Any resemblance to fictional towns is just a bonus.”

“I'm suing for full custody of Josh.” She turned from the window, her expression as cool as though she'd just said she wanted chicken for dinner. “My lawyer says that since I'll be married and able to provide a stable two-parent home for Josh, I have a good shot.”

Rage flooded his veins, his muscles trembling with the effort it took not to throttle the woman. He took a deep breath, kept his voice even. “Stable? A bookie who was threatening your life came to our house. Spoke to Josh while he was playing in the front yard. You're not even safe for our son, much less stable.”

She sighed. “Don't be so dramatic. And besides, I don't owe any bookies, and I've been to counseling. I'm not gambling anymore.”

Yeah, she didn't owe bookies anymore because Chance had borrowed against his pension to pay off her debts. It had pissed him off, writing that check, cleaning up after the mistakes of a woman he'd stopped loving years ago. But it had been the best way to keep his son safe.

He fisted his hands so tightly, the knuckles on his right hand cracked. “I don't care what your lawyer says. You're not taking Josh.”

“Edward said you'd say that.” Her bright pink lips twisted. It was a mystery that he'd ever wanted to kiss that scheming mouth.

“I would say he's a smart man, but he's marrying you.” He pushed off the desk. “I know Josh would like to see you while you're in town. When do you want to come over?”

“I thought I'd take him out to dinner,” she said. “There's got to be some sort of pizza place that he'd like.”

“No.”

She cocked her head. “This pathetic town doesn't even have a pizza parlor?”

Moving to this small town had been a bit of a culture shock for him, too, but Annette's bitchy attitude was one more nail scraping down the chalkboard of his patience. “Yes, there's a pizza parlor, but there's no way in hell you're taking Josh out by yourself. If you want to see him tonight, you can have dinner at our house.”

Narrowing her eyes, she asked, “What exactly do you think I'm going to do? Kidnap him?”

Chance remained silent.

“Christ,” she muttered. “Fine. Dinner at your house. Remember, I don't eat red meat anymore.”

“Got it.” Steaks on the grill tonight. “How long are you planning on staying in town?”

“As long as I want to.” She jutted out her chin. “He's my son, too.”

Yes, unfortunately he was. And Chance understood her need to spend time with Josh. Respected it. But the way Annette was now, she could hurt their son more by spending time with him. Put him in danger.

Maybe it was a good thing she was marrying that Edward character. It might anchor her to the West Coast, keep her far away from Josh.

With a curt goodbye, and directions to his house, he left. Striding down the hallway, Chance kneaded the back of his neck. Now to find Jane. From one angry woman to another. Out of the frying pan, into the fire.

He punched the elevator call button, considered the metal doors in front of him, and turned for the stairwell. Jogging down the stairs, Chance knew the comparison between Jane and his ex wasn't fair. Jane
might
have a reason to be a bit pissed off. Technically, he hadn't lied. But he hadn't been eager to share the information that he was still married, either. He'd had too much fun flirting with Jane.

He pushed open the door to the hallway and followed the signs to the ballroom, quickening his step. It was strange, hurrying to see Jane again. Planning this fundraiser with her was causing déjà vu to crash upon him in waves. He used to trip all over his feet just to reach her side, a physical ache gripping his chest if he spent too long away from her.

As a teenager, everything had been life or death, a roller coaster of emotion from who'd win the Friday-night football game to what college he was going to apply to. But he wasn't a boy anymore, and he wouldn't die if he didn't see his girlfriend.

He hurried down the hall just the same.

And found an empty ballroom.

Frowning, he made his way back to reception. “Do you know where the manager is? He was supposed to be showing my friend and me the ballroom.”

She smiled brightly. “Oh, they finished with that. Your friend left about five minutes ago.”

“Left?” His voice rose above the soft classical music playing in the lobby.

The blinding smile dimmed. “Yes. Uh . . . maybe she's waiting for you in the parking lot?”

Nodding tersely, Chance strode to the spot where Jane had parked.

The empty spot.

Chance cursed, dug in his pocket for his phone. Scrolling through his contacts, his thumb hovered over Jane's picture. He'd snapped it without her knowledge, and it only captured about three-quarters of her face. The smile that had struck him as so sweet now looked devilish. Evil danced in those eyes.

He smacked his finger down on her smiling face.

The call went straight to voicemail, and Chance hung up, dialed another number.

“What can I do you for?” Chief Finnegan's hint of Irish met Chance's ear.

“Can you give me the name of a taxi service?” Chance asked. “I'm stranded at the Regency.”

One quality Chance had come to appreciate from his new chief was that the man didn't ask unnecessary questions. “I'll come get you. I only live about ten minutes away.”

“That's not necessary,” Chance said.

“I'm off today. Got nothing better to do.” Keys jingled over the line, a door shut. “Be there in a bit.”

Chance ended the call and leaned against a minivan, settling in for the wait. Striking red cardinals flitted among the trees dotting the parking lot, but Chance couldn't appreciate their beauty. He was still too pissed off. Jane had no right to be that angry, to leave him without a ride simply because he hadn't mentioned his wife. His very soon to be ex-wife.

Jane always had been prone to overreacting.

Chance's shoulders were marginally less tense by the time the chief rolled into the lot. It was hard to stay angry when the sun was shining and a cool breeze was blowing. Chance thought about Jane ditching him again. Nope. Still ticked off.

“Thanks,” Chance said, climbing into the passenger seat.

Finnegan grunted. “Where to?”

“My SUV's downtown at the Pantry, but Josh is at Edith Willoughby's apartment. Can you drop me there? Josh and I will walk to where I'm parked.” If Josh wasn't going to be in the vehicle with him, he'd have tracked Jane down, expressing to her just how juvenile her actions had been. Demanded an apology.