Putting Out Old Flames (7 page)

She knew why he was ticked. His voicemails, accusing her of hiding the bachelor auction from him, had explained that very clearly. She'd hoped to avoid him until his wrath had calmed. But here he was, on her doorstep. She glanced at the spider, still unmoving on her wall, and back at the big firefighter filling her doorway.

Maybe she wouldn't have to move after all.

Cy wriggled in her grasp, and she let him jump down. He batted his paw in the air in Chance's direction, hissed his displeasure, and leaped onto the couch. Kneading the cushion, Cy glanced at the wall, remembered they had an intruder, and raced for the open kitchen window, yowling all the way.

“Your cat is nuts,” Chance said, pushing past her into her living room.

Closing the door, Jane realized she still held the card, and shoved it down the back of her yoga pants, pulling the hem of her tank top down to cover the top of it. “It's so nice to see you. How've you been?” She circled around, keeping the couch between her and the spider.

“Cut the crap. I've been trying to get ahold of you for days.” He rubbed a big hand up and down the back of his head, ruffling his hair. “Just so you know, I'm not doing it.”

“Doing what?” she asked, distracted. The spider had crawled two more inches up the wall.

Chance shot her a disgusted look. “I'm not going to be sold like a piece of meat,” he said, spelling it out for her. “I'm helping out as cochair. I'm not going to be a beefcake bachelor, too.”

She snorted. “Beefcake bachelor? Nice alliteration.”

He crossed his arms over his chest. “Chief came up with that one. It's accurate, isn't it?”

The spider zipped to the ceiling. Crap, how did it run so fast with those little legs?

“Sure, of course,” she said. “I didn't expect you to.” Jane shot him a sweet smile. “Chance, I don't suppose—”

His eyebrows lowered. “Why didn't you expect that?” He glanced down his body. “I might not be the best-looking guy in the department, but I could probably still raise some money.”

She forced her eyes to remain unrolled. Did all men have such delicate egos? “I'm sure you'd make us a lot of money. More than anyone else. But Chance—”

“So you do think I should do it.” He rested his hands on his denim-clad hips. “The other single guys keep razzing me to do it, and I want to help raise money—”

“But you're not single, are you?” The spider was momentarily forgotten as that old hurt clawed its way out.

“I'm legally separated, soon to be divorced. Single enough to be auctioned off at a charity ball.”

She cocked her head to the side. “Wait. So are you arguing to be one of the bachelors or not? I'm confused.”

Chance blew out a sigh, flopped down on the sofa. Staring at the ceiling, he muttered, “Join the club.”

His throat was exposed, with his head leaning back on the cushion of the couch. He used to love it when she nibbled at his Adam's apple, and it took all her self-restraint not to straddle his hips and press kisses to his neck. She shifted, and the press of the card at her back brought her up short. As always, it was a good reminder.

Chance lifted an eyebrow. “Did you know there's a tarantula above your head?”

With a shriek, Jane flew to the door of her bedroom. She shook her head back and forth, hoping to dislodge the creepy insect in case it had decided to take up residence in her hair. Chance raised an eyebrow and pointed. She spotted the spider, still clinging to the ceiling.

She gulped down some breaths. “Can you get rid of it for me?”

“Maybe.” Chance eyed her speculatively.

“It's not a tarantula,” she told him, hoping that demoting the bug would encourage him to get rid of it for her.

“No. Close to the size, though.” He threaded his fingers together behind his head and settled into the couch.

“Well?” She cocked a hip. “How do I get your maybe to a yes?”

He grinned. “Now that sounds like something I used to say to you.” His gaze made a slow perusal of her body, and the comfy clothes she wore suddenly felt as revealing as a bikini. “It was never very hard to convince you.”

“Forget it. I'll just call an exterminator.”

“For one spider.” Shaking his head, Chance rose to his feet. Moving to the kitchen, he said over his shoulder, “I'm doing this as a favor. Which means, when I want a favor from you, you reciprocate.”

She watched as he walked back in with a paper towel in his hand. “What kind of favor?”

“Don't know yet.” Reaching up, he quickly disposed of the spider. Not wanting to see its demise, Jane looked down, caught sight of the strip of skin exposed between his shirt and jeans when he raised his hand to the ceiling. His bronzed waist spoke of topless outdoor activities, and those chiseled indents that sat above the waistband of his Calvins made her mouth water. She'd never realized she had such a fondness for that part of the male anatomy, but whenever Chance raised his arms, her eyes were drawn to the spot.

Maybe she'd never realized it because none of the men she'd seen naked had that part of the male anatomy. None of them were as cut as Chance.

“There.” He strode to the trash can. “The big bad spider is all gone.”

She wanted to shoot back a snide response, wipe that patronizing look right off his face. But considering the fact that she didn't even want the dead spider in her trash can and was considering asking Chance to take it out for her, she kept her mouth shut.

“Now,” he said. “About this auction.”

“Look, if you want to be part of it, fine.” Picking up an empty soda can and her Sunday paper, Jane tossed them in the trash. Maybe if she put enough on top of the smooshed bug, it would be okay. “If you don't, no problem. Just let me know before I set up the photographer.”

“Photographer?”

“Yeah, a photography student from the community college is taking pictures of all the bachelors to go up on the website.” She smiled. “I think some of the guys are even coming up with stripper names for themselves. Not,” she added, “that there will be any stripping. This is supposed to be a classy event. Though what the guys decide to do on their dates is their own business.”

Someone knocked at her front door. Chance raised an eyebrow. “Speaking of dates . . . you expecting someone?”

“No.” She headed to the door, then slapped her palm on her forehead. “Crap on a cracker, it's Sunday.”

“Is that supposed to mean something?” Chance asked.

Jane ignored him and opened the door. “Hi, Leon. Come on in.”

The bailiff followed her into the living room. “Hey, you just about ready? Oh.” He spotted Chance. “Hi. McGovern, isn't it?”

The men shook hands. “Call me Chance. You here to take our Jane out?”

She bristled at the use of the word “our.”

“Yep.” Leon rubbed his hands together. “It's game night.”

“Leon”—she waved her hands up and down her body—“I forgot and I'm not dressed. Why don't we just do it next week?”

His brow drew down. “But it's game night. Tonight.” Leon looked at her expectantly.

“Yeah, Jane.” Chance smirked. “It's game night.” His mocking voice scraped across her nerves. “Hop to it and get ready.”

“Great.” Leon plopped onto the couch, content it had all been resolved. “We should leave in ten minutes if we want to get a seat at a good table. You coming with us, Chance?”

Jane opened her mouth, but Chance beat her to it. “Sounds like fun.” He sat next to Leon and clapped him on the shoulder.

She gritted her teeth. “I don't think that's really appropriate, Chance. Leon and I are on a date—”

“Oh no. The more the merrier,” Leon said. He glanced at his watch. “About eight minutes now, Jane.”

Fuming, she stormed into her bedroom and slammed the door. It was just like Chance to horn in on her non-date with Leon. There would be no chance in hell that he'd believe there was any sort of sparks flying between her and the bailiff if he spent the night shadowing them. He'd know she was going out on pathetic friend-dates when she'd rather he believed she was tearing up the sheets.

Not wanting Chance to think she was dressing up for him, and knowing he wouldn't believe she'd dressed up for Leon, she pulled on a pair of jeans and a lightweight sweater that covered her from collarbone to hips. Totally frumpy. Showed a complete lack of interest in looking appealing to Chance.

“Okay, let's go,” she said and swept to the front door, waving the two men out. “Chance, you remember where the Legion is?”
Please say no
.

“Yep. I'll meet you two there.” With a wink, he was gone. Damn, there went her fantasy of losing him on the way.

Leon hustled her to his car. “I think we'll get there in time to get a seat at the Dominion table.”

And they did. Of course, Leon ran a yellow light or two. He took game night very seriously. Jane breathed a sigh of relief when she saw Chance hadn't yet arrived. Even better, the Dominion table only had two seats left.

Chance strolled in, a cup of coffee in his hand. He looked around, saw her at the full table and gave her that look. The one he had perfected as a teen that said
You may have won this round, but I'll still get you
. Taking a sip of coffee, he headed over to the poker table, took a seat.

The night passed painfully slowly. Her focus kept drifting to Chance, who wended his way from table to table, closing in on hers. She was always the first to lose, so she kept popping up to get herself and Leon drinks, diet soda for her and Rob Roys for him. She didn't need her mind muddled any more than it already was.

Chance's gaze pierced her between her shoulder blades, and Jane shifted in her metal seat. He was only at the next table. She looked at the clock above the American flag. God, when would this night end?

“Jane? Jane!?” The exasperation in Leon's voice told her he'd been trying to get her attention for a while.

“Sorry. What?” She tried to look suitably interested. But who was she kidding?

“I said, do you mind giving up your seat for Bob? He's been wanting to play Dominion all night and you, well . . .”

“Suck at it,” she finished for him. Smiling up at Bob, a city councilman, she said, “Sure, no problem,” and got to her feet.

A hand snaked around her elbow. “Jane can join us at this table,” Chance said, and tugged her into the seat next to his.

She almost fell off the other side of the chair, and flung her hand out for balance. It landed on his hard thigh. “Sorry,” she muttered and righted herself. “What are you guys playing?” she asked the three other people gathered around the table.

“Truth or Consequences,” an older woman replied. “The person on your left asks you a question and you have to come up with three answers. Two you make up, one answer has to be true.” She peered at Jane over red frame glasses. “It's the honor system, so make sure one is the truth. The rest of the players try to guess which one is the right answer, and those of us who guess correctly advance on the board.” She pushed a carton of questions in front of Jane. “It's a great way to learn about the new guy in town.” She nodded her head at Chance and waggled her Brillo Pad eyebrows.

He smiled. “My life's an open book to you, Maggie, my love.”

The older woman's cheeks turned pink. “Oh, go on with you.”

Chance pressed two dice into Jane's hand. “Your roll, Janey-girl.”

“What am I rolling for?”

“The number you roll determines what question I ask you,” Chance said.

“Oh.” She blew on the cubes, and squealed when she rolled a seven.

Chance shook his head and reached for a card. “Calm down. This isn't craps.” Reading the card, a slow grin stretched across his face, one corner of his mouth a little higher than the other. “Your question is ‘Where was the first place you had sex'?”

Her lips pinched. “Pass.”

“You can't pass,” he told her. “It's not that kind of game.”

“Pass,” she told him loudly, glaring.

“Yes.” Maggie shifted, her large frame making the chair groan with alarm. “We've been skipping the more personal questions. I think some cards from the couple's version of the game got mixed in. Give her another one, Chance.”

Yet every question she rolled to, Chance asked her still more intimate questions. Questions where more often than not, he would be the answer. If she deigned to answer. Jane didn't know if he was palming the cards to the couple's version, or if he was making up the questions on the spot, but his impish smile told her he knew he was getting to her. After dodging more uncomfortable questions than she could count, she'd finally had enough.

With a tight smile, Jane stood. “It's been a long day. I'm going to head home. 'Night, everyone.” She walked over to Leon. “Almost ready to go?”

He chewed on some ice. “Probably five minutes till I win this one.” Belching softly, he picked up two cards.

“I'll wait for you outside.” At his nod, she spun on her heel and strode away. She breathed the cool night air deeply, feeling her muscles relax for the first time that night. Footsteps sounded behind her, and just like that, her Zen moment was stolen. “Come on,” she muttered under her breath.

“I'll give you a ride home,” Chance said. “I already told Leon he could keep playing.”

Narrowing her eyes, Jane turned to face him. “You shouldn't have done that. I came with Leon and I'll leave with him. You can head on home.”