Melora Channing hasn't seen Chance Benson in years, not since he used to hang out with her brother in high school. But now she and Chance are guests at the same wedding where the notorious billionaire offers her a wild proposal, a sexy, scandalous, and irresistible affair! Chance's outrageous proposal was supposed to be a simple thing, it was merely a trick to distract the tabloids from another, all-too-real scandal. But neither he nor Melora expected such a very public affair to prove so very hot in private... Or to have such lasting consequences...View More
Chance sat at the edge of the bed, feet on the floor, forearms propped over his knees, jaw painfully set. This wasn’t going to work. He looked over his shoulder at Melora’s sleeping form, quietly curled into herself, a tiny furrow pulled between her delicate eyebrows. She didn’t want what he was offering… not really. They’d been in the same book, but on different pages from the start. He’d tried not to hurt her, but he’d been an idiot, and in the end that was all he’d managed to do. Even today, when suddenly all the pieces of his life seemed to be falling into place, one jagged edge didn’t fit and he’d felt it cut through Melora’s vulnerable heart. ‘Just let me love you.’ He shouldn’t have said the words like that.
He was losing her. He’d been so close. She’d been there, he could feel it. He’d seen her weaken, starting to melt. Felt the hot lick of her eyes over his skin, the current charging the air between them. And then, just that quickly, everything changed. The temperature dropped. The static grounded. And a swarm of angry bees manifested beneath his skin, buzzing in his head, making him itch and sting and want to roar in painful frustration. Why wouldn’t she damned well give in? Fighting the vise around his chest, Chance surged to his feet. Wasn’t surprised when Melora rose with him. She leaned into his space, looking up at him with eyes that were flat and bleak, lacking emotion, and speared through his soul like a blade.“You know what? You’re right… I don
Melora stood before the closed door to her apartment, hand hovering above the knob. Chance was on his way up. Invariably looking too dangerously good for her peace of mind. He always looked good. And she’d generally been able to handle it. Right up until the night a week ago when she’d gotten her hair stuck in his shirt. Ever since she’d been fighting a losing battle against temptation. It was unsettling. And what made matters worse, Chance had stopped berating talking about marriage. She knew something wasn’t right… This was the relentless, ruthless, single-minded in his unwavering determination to make the world bend to his will, Chance Benson. Now that she’d been on the receiving end of all that intensive focus, Melora didn’t believe for one minute he’d actually given up the fight. Which meant he’d be
Melora sat at the kitchen table, her gaze fixed on the cooling mug of tea between her palms. She’d left Chance in the living room nearly a half-hour before. After a time, she’d heard his sweet voice as he began making phone calls. Surely, he was trying to find a way out of this mess. The hardwood groaned its quiet protest under the weight of his approach and then Chance’s dark form filled the doorway. Arms braced against the frame like a looming threat, he pressed into the room without entering. “I found out this morning…” she volunteered, figuring it as good a place to start as any. “Are you ok?” he asked visibly concerned. It didn’t surprise her… There’d never been a question of caring. Only of degree. “Yes. It was just my annual check-up. One thing led to another and then…”
How in the hell was he supposed to make this work when Melora wouldn’t give a damn inch? “Chance, I’m not giving up my job!” Her cheeks were flush, her eyes overbright with shadows beneath as she planted hands on hips and glared at him from across the distance of his living room. “People work because they need the money, Melo,” he answered steadily, unwilling to be baited into a shouting match with this stubborn little demon woman carrying his child. “You don’t need the money.” Chance was the calm one, this time. The reasonable one. Casually sprawled in his chair, smiling his most patient, unfazed smile, his hand, all the while, discreetly flexing the tension from his body behind the arm of the wingback. They’d been going aroun
The weather outside was so similar to what was going on in her heart and in her mind. So, after she took a nice long bath, Melora decided to make herself a cup of tea and think of the news Dr. Jackson just gave her that morning. Melora knew she had to talk to Chance, that he had to know about the pregnancy. But before doing that, she needed to put some order in her thoughts and come up with a plan that would allow her to take care of the baby without asking anything from him. She won’t put Chance in chains out of fear or desperation. This wasn’t his fault, but all hers. So, Melora Channing is going to take care of her baby without asking for no one’s help. The piercing whistle of steam escaping the kettle was broken by the repet
Melora’s gown crinkled, gaping in falls of stiff, creased blue paper as she sat atop the padded exam table, legs crossed with as much lady-like decorum as she could muster given the circumstances. While waiting for Dr. Jackson, Melora tried to calm her trembling hands, blocking her every thought about Chance. At least for that day. The last months and a half had been extremely tough on her, she’d almost lost her mind and her will to live. Thank god for her students at school! They literally saved her life, keeping her sane and focused at least a few hours a day. After breaking up with Chance, she had been grumpy, sick, and depressed for a long time. She kept fighting what had become a perpetual state of lethargy for weeks. But one morning, she left her room and decided she wouldn’t
One look at her and Chance knew something was wrong with Melora. He stood by the exit watching the dinner crowd. The upscale Italian restaurant was one of his favorites and Melora had mentioned it as one of hers as well, but tonight she’d barely had a bite of her food and her glass of wine sat all but untouched on the table. He’d gone to her place straight from the airport, willing to see her, ready to pick up where they’d left off almost a week before. The business trip had been a success and he was in the mood for a celebration. But even before they’d made it to the car, Chance had sensed something off. Usually, they’d talked easily enough, laughed, and caught up, but every few minutes her attention would drift, leaving him to wonder where she’d gone.