Putting Out Old Flames

by Allyson Charles

  “Of course you don’t.”

  “No, I mean it.” A vein in his neck pulsed. “He’s too old for her.”

  Jane rolled her eyes. “Katie told me he’s twenty-six. Not exactly a May-December romance.”

  He set his jaw. “I don’t like it.”

  Jane rubbed his shoulder. “But you’re going to accept that your sister is an adult and can make her own choices on who she dates. Right?”

  He stared over her head.

  “Right?” She stepped on his foot and ground down. Just a little.

  Chance jerked his foot out from under hers, stumbling into the guy next to them. “Christ! Yes. I’ll be nice to my sister.”

  Resting her head against his chest, she wrapped her arms around his waist. “Good.”

  “As long as you make sure to come over tonight.”

  “Okay.” The lapel of his tux tickled her nose and she wriggled it. “I’ll distract you from locking your sister up by occupying you with sex.”

  “Going to need a lot of distraction.” He rested his chin on her head. “And you’re going to need to bid on me tonight for the bachelor auction.”

  She wrinkled her nose. “I organized the event. I don’t think I should bid. Wouldn’t that be some sort of insider trading?” Although she wanted to, the idea of raising her hand in the crowd, showing everyone how much she wanted him, made her stomach tense. If things didn’t work out between them, she’d be the fool who couldn’t even buy Chance’s love.

  “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 t
his 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.

  Chapter Twenty

  Jane 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—”