Putting Out Old Flames

by Allyson Charles

  “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.”

  Chance dug his hand into his front pocket, digging for his keys. “Leon’s had quite a bit to drink. Maggie’s going to get him some coffee, but as of now he’s not driving you anywhere.” He took her hand with his free one and led her to his SUV.

  She tugged away when he opened the passenger door. “Well, you’re not taking me home, either.”

  Staring at the sky, Chance rolled his shoulders. Her own drooped. Yeah, that didn’t sound like she wasn’t still hung up on him. Crap, was she still hung up on Chance? She’d thought she’d grown past that teenage angst. She should have just thanked him, slid into his car, and engaged in polite conversation on the ride home. Like one person completely indifferent to the other. But something about Chance punched all her buttons. Not all of them in bad ways, she had to admit.

  “Jane.” His voice had a forced quality, like it was a struggle to keep it even. “Leon wants to keep playing. You want to go home. I have a car.” His gaze lowered, his eyes pinning her in place. In the dimly lit parking lot, his normally milk-chocolate eyes had turned very dark. At least 85 percent cacao. “The math is simple.”

  Her mind raced, trying to think of a rational argument, something that wouldn’t make her sound like a petulant child. He stepped closer, and her mind blanked. Even through the brisk chill, heat rolled off his body, causing parts of her to tingle. He placed his hands on the SUV’s roof, his arms on either side of her head, probably to keep her from stalking back into the Legion. It just made her want to push to her toes, lean into him.

  It had been so long. So long since she’d been in his arms. So long since she’d wanted to be wrapped up in a man. His aftershave was certainly different from the Aqua Velva he’d worn in high
school. But the masculine scent underneath was still the same. He smelled of heated flesh, expensive spice, and her next mistake.

  He sighed, seemingly unaware of the dirty thoughts roaming her mind. “I just watched Leon down his fourth cocktail. I repeat, you’re not going home with him. Now”—he dipped his head, came nose to nose with her—“Get. In. The. Car.”

  Chapter Seven

  Chance watched her face as Jane struggled with his demand, saw the exact moment when she gave in. She pushed her lower lip out the slightest bit. Those who didn’t know her as well as he did would never know she was pouting.

  As commander of his division in Cal Fire, he was used to his orders being followed. That Jane gave in to his command surprised the hell out of him, however. He knew he was a jerk for bossing her around. He didn’t have the right. But he had followed her out of the building with the plan to get her home safely, and the more she’d fought, the more he’d dug his heels in to do just that.

  Call it a character flaw.

  Her tongue darted out, licked that bottom pouting lip, drawing his attention back to her lush mouth. God, he wanted nothing more than to suck that plump lip between his teeth. Did she still like a light bite? He frowned. No, he had to keep his mind from going there. This was Jane, the woman he’d done wrong, and who he suspected had dreams of castrating him.

  Licking her lip again, Jane tilted her head. Bringing her mouth within a hairsbreadth of his. Everything inside of him lit up, like she’d flipped a switch. He should push away from her, give her some space. Really, he should.

  Chance pressed his body closer, inhaled her delicate scent. She’d push him away soon enough. Any moment now . . .

  “Chance,” she whispered, her voice turning all throaty.

  And that was it. All self-control gone.

  Chance took that last inch, crushed his lips to hers.

  Sweet. Damn, she tasted sweet. Sweeping his tongue along the seam of her lips, he moaned when she opened for him, welcomed him inside. Annette had never been a big one for kissing, preferring to just get to the main event. He’d forgotten the intimacy that was created when two partners sank into a kiss, the shiver that raced down his spine at the slide of a warm, wet tongue against his.

  He lifted his hands from the SUV, brought one to the back of her neck, the other to the base of her spine. Pulling her closer, he took it deeper, held her head at just the right angle. A soft sound from the back of her throat encouraged him. He sucked on her tongue, used his teeth to scrape along the sensitive surface.

  Her body melted into his, every inch of her, from chest to thigh, touching him. He needed more. Sliding his left hand down her back, he gripped her butt, pulled her snug against his erection.

  Which, in hindsight, he realized was a mistake.

  Jane stiffened, stopped dueling him with her tongue. It went from kissing a hot, eager woman to kissing an immobile blow-up doll. Not that he’d know what that was like.

  Lifting his head, he stared down into her narrowed eyes. Her mouth was pressed into an angry line, as if she hadn’t been right there with him in the doing. In the wanting. She could rearrange her face into all the expressions of disgust she wanted, but her heaving chest betrayed her.

  “No?” he asked, nothing more articulate coming to mind. That kiss had reduced his brain to the basics.

  Reaching behind her, she grabbed his hand off her ass. “No.”

  “Okay.” Chance dragged in a shaky breath, took a step back. “Okay.” Her puffy, reddened lips beckoned him to take another taste. “Any particular reason why?”

  She snorted, seeming to have recovered much faster than he had. He ground his teeth together. “Do you want the list chronological or alphabetical?” she asked with so much sass if it had come from Josh he would have given his son a time-out.

  The denim clinging to her curvy hips caught his eye. Maybe a spanking would be more appropriate. Before his mind could disappear down that delightful rabbit hole, she continued. “Can’t decide? Well, I’ll just start with the headliner then.” She poked him in the chest. Hard. “You’re married!”

  Her face paled, and she turned and gripped the open door. “Oh God, I just made out with a married man.”

  “Legally separated!” Okay, he wasn’t too proud of kissing a woman before the divorce papers came through. He hadn’t planned on getting into another relationship until he’d recovered from his marriage. And with all the ups and downs with Annette, mainly downs, he’d thought it would be a long time coming. But that was before he’d found Jane again.

  She shot him a scornful glare. “Don’t bother threading that needle. It doesn’t matter. We’re not getting back together in any case.”

  And if that wasn’t just a donkey kick to the gut. Chest tight, he growled, “I wasn’t asking.”

  Hands on her hips, she made a sound that could only be classified as a snarl. Now he knew where Cyclops had learned it. “Good,” she spat out.

  “Fine.” He crowded her against the SUV. “You know what your problem is?”

  “Oh, please, do tell.”

  “You were always asking for too much,” he said. “We were kids and you were plotting out our whole damn future, like it was just assumed we’d always be together.” He ignored the flash of pain across her face, relieved when her chin tilted up defiantly. “And this was just a kiss, not me asking you to go steady.”

  “And your problem is you never offered enough.” Jane’s hands clenched her opposite biceps, her folded arms giving a boost to her lush breasts. The sight almost derailed Chance from the fight he was raring to have. “You weren’t as serious about me as I was about you, fine. That happens. But you should have offered me some honesty. Some decency. A breakup card, Chance!” She turned her head, giving him her profile. He still caught the slight tremor of her lower lip. “That was a shit move. I thought better of you.”

  His heart did a belly flop. Onto cement. With that rebuke, Chance felt like he was eighteen again, uncertain and insecure. He hadn’t broken up with Jane lightly. He’d looked over all his options and determined UC Berkeley was his best shot at achieving his goals. He planned to become the youngest neurosurgeon in history, and he knew if he and Jane remained a couple, she’d slow him down. Marriage and babies would have been inevitable.

  Of course, that had happened anyway. And with a woman he hadn’t been able to envision spending the rest of his life with, not the way he sometimes had with Jane.

  He hadn’t meant the card to hurt her, even though he’d known it would. He was just too much of a coward at eighteen to face her tears. Rubbing his chest with his knuckle, he bit back a bitter laugh. Fate was a bitch he couldn’t escape. He had to face Jane now.

  Except now she wasn’t crying. Thank God. Chance had never been good with women’s tears, and seeing Jane’s would have slayed him.

  “I can only say this so many times.” He waited for Jane to look at him. “I’m sorry for what I did back then. Truly sorry.”

  She opened her mouth to say something, but changed her mind. She gave him a curt nod.

  Wasn’t the wholehearted forgiveness he’d hoped for, but he’d take it. “Now, unless you want to wait here an hour or two for Leon to sober up, I’d be happy to take you home.”

  She nodded again and slid into the passenger seat. Making sure all her bits were in, Chance shut the door and circled around to the driver’s side. He didn’t know when, but somewhere along the line tonight, his plan to reestablish a friendship with Jane had gone off the rails.

  Probably when he had his tongue down her throat.

  Sliding into his seat, he started the engine. He missed Jane as a friend. If they were going to live in the same town, he wanted that back. A new, mature friendship between two adults.

  Chance squared his shoulders. So that was that. If he wanted to forge a solid relationship, one thing was clear.

  From now on, hands off Dispatch Jane.

  He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, watched h
er breasts rise and fall beneath her thin sweater.

  And lips off of her, too, he told himself sternly. And tongue. No touching her with his tongue.

  She leaned her head against the back of the seat, exposing the long, silky column of her neck. His body tightened.

  Christ. This friendship was doomed.

  * * *

  The clacking of pins kept beat with the pounding rock music coming from the bar. The Pins ’N’ Pints was hopping for a Tuesday night, the bowling alley and bar combo filled with the raucous shouts of the patrons at the bar, on the dance floor, and down at the lanes. The local watering hole was popular with people of all ages and all walks of life, and the sawdust on the floor told anyone entering that the hotspot didn’t tolerate pretensions.

  Everyone was having a good time.

  Everyone except Jane.

  It was the night of her monthly girls’ night out and she and her friends had opted for a fun night of bowling. Which Jane loved. She’d been whooping it up with the rest of her ladies, forgetting the mess that was her relationship with Chance, when the devil himself walked through the door.

  Chance and four of his fellow firemen had sauntered across the wooden floor, chatted with the girl behind the shoe-rental desk, and taken a lane. Right next to hers.

  Jane gritted her teeth. She just couldn’t catch a break. She’d ignored her cochair’s texts, which patiently explained why, if she couldn’t accept their little kiss and move on, she needed to forget it happened. For the good of the fundraiser.

  Glaring at Chance’s back, Jane raised a bottle of beer to her lips. Little kiss? What the blasted man described as insignificant had shaken Jane’s world, a veritable 6.0 on the Richter scale. Chance had been living in earthquake country too long if a kiss of that magnitude didn’t register.

  Maybe it hadn’t been good for him. She darted a look out of the corner of her eye. Chance high-fived Martinez, laughed at something the young firefighter said. He’d probably been with a slew of women in college before settling down with his wife. Probably made out with the kind of woman who could knot a cherry stem with her tongue. To him, the kiss had meant nothing.