Second Chances

by T. M. Franklin

  It just . . . wouldn’t . . . move.

  “Come on!” he exclaimed in frustration. After a few more wiggles and a desperate yank he feared would tear the seams, he realized he’d managed to twist the shirt behind him. He was now trapped in some kind of white cotton straightjacket of doom.

  Carter realized he was quickly closing in on the Woodlawn city limits and decided to quit while he was behind and pull over at the next opportunity. He spotted a wide spot on the shoulder and stopped there in relief. He would have preferred something a little more hidden from the road, but traffic was light, and he didn’t really see any better options.

  Carter quickly released his seatbelt and managed to break free of his shirt prison with a victorious grunt. He pulled the shirt on and shimmied out of his jeans, reaching for the new pants and glancing at his watch simultaneously. If he hurried, they’d still make their reservation at Aurora.

  Carter tossed the jeans into the back seat and glanced into the rearview mirror just in time to see a flash of red and blue.

  Red and blue lights.

  As in . . . lights on a police car.

  With a groan, Carter scrambled to jam his legs into the suit pants, yanking them up over his thighs just as an officer tapped on the window with the end of his flashlight.

  Carter readied a sheepish smile and looked up . . . only to come face to face with the one person he pretty much never wanted to meet with his pants down.

  That’s right. Sheriff Jeremiah “Stitch” Monroe.

  A phrase involving deer, headlights, and rather colorful profanity ran through Carter’s mind.

  He rolled down the window. “Hi, Sheriff,” he said, deciding to play it off as a joke. It was his father-in-law, after all.

  “Carter,” Stitch replied, his pointed gaze taking in Carter’s disheveled appearance. “License and registration.”

  Kenzie’s father never did like him much. Figured that wouldn’t change, even in an alternate reality. Of course, he was half-naked on the side of the road.

  Carter fumbled in his pants pockets, realizing his wallet was in the jeans he’d thrown into the back of the car. He swallowed thickly, then turned and bent over the seat, pulling his pants up over his butt as he moved. He retrieved the wallet and handed his license and registration to the sheriff.

  Stitch Monroe, face devoid of emotion, examined the documents, then eyed Carter suspiciously. “You want to tell me what you’re doing, Carter?”

  Carter forced a laugh. “Funny story,” he began, but at the sheriff’s deadpan expression, he decided on another tact.

  “I was trying to surprise Kenzie,” he said instead. “I’m taking her to a nice dinner tonight, and I’m running late. I thought it might be easier to change in the car.”

  Carter swore he saw the sheriff’s lips quirk slightly. Of course he might have imagined that.

  “How’s that working for you?” he asked.

  “Uh . . . not so good,” Carter replied, buttoning up his shirt and tucking it into his pants quickly as he reached for his tie. “Do you think you could let me off with a warning? I really want to get to Kenzie.”

  Stitch’s face took on a dark look. “She does deserve a night out. Especially after what happened Christmas Eve.”

  Carter’s heart sank. Did everyone know about that? The ever-grinding gossip mill was one thing he didn’t miss about small towns.

  “Well, uh, I really want to try and make it up to her.”

  “You should.”

  The sheriff stood silently for a moment, and Carter wondered if he was going to let him go, or haul him in for questioning.

  Or torture. It wasn’t outside the realm of possibility.

  The sheriff tapped the butt of his flashlight against his open palm, his eyes impassive, and Carter swallowed thickly.

  Fortunately, Stitch had mercy on his son-in-law, and with a few gruff words and a warning not to change on the side of the road again, he handed the license and registration back to Carter and turned to head back to his cruiser.

  Carter breathed a heavy sigh and adjusted his tie, examining it in the rearview mirror. He saw Stitch watching him, and quickly reached for the key.

  In a perfect world, the car would have started and Carter would have made it home in time to whisk Kenzie away to a beautiful dinner at a four-star restaurant.

  In Carter’s world, the car wouldn’t start, he had to ask his father-in-law—who apparently hated his guts—to give him a jump, and when he finally got home he was in such a rush that he slammed the roses in the car door.

  Kenzie, to her credit, smiled prettily when he offered the slightly crushed flowers to her. She wore a green silky dress that wrapped around her slender frame and swayed hypnotically when she moved. Carter hadn’t been able to speak and thrust the roses toward her, like a teenager on his first date.

  “I, uh, had some trouble with the flowers. And the car door,” he explained lamely as several wilted petals drifted to the floor.

  Kenzie laughed. “Well, they’re beautiful. Thank you.”

  Carter followed her into the kitchen, trying not to be obvious when he glanced at his watch. Fortunately, his mother had already picked up the children, but Carter knew they needed to get going.

  “Are you ready?” he asked Kenzie as she filled a vase and began arranging the less-damaged flowers.

  “Hmm?”

  Carter cleared his throat. “Are you ready to go? We have a reservation.”

  She hurriedly stuck the rest of the flowers into the vase, adjusting them as she frowned. “Okay,” she said, drying her hands on a towel. “Let me get my coat.”

  They managed to get out of the house and into the minivan—Carter wasn’t going to rely on his untrustworthy battery for such an important night—and headed out of town.

  “Where are we going?” Kenzie asked. “I thought we were heading to The Mill.”

  Carter smiled enigmatically. “It’s a surprise.” He was pleased to see Kenzie flush a little in pleasure as he watched her out of the corner of his eye while they approached the airport.

  “Carter?” She looked at him questioningly as he parked the van and jogged around to open the door and help her out.

  “Just come on,” he said quietly, taking her hand in his. The feel of her soft skin against his made him feel warm and slightly giddy. He led her across the tarmac to where Lester was completing a pre-flight check on his helicopter.

  Kenzie came to an abrupt stop. “We’re not going up in that,” she stated, shaking her head slowly.

  Carter tugged on her arm. “It’ll be fun. Come on.”

  “Fun?” she repeated, turning panicked eyes to him. “Carter, those things are dangerous. And Lester Reynolds?” Her voice lowered to a whisper. “You know that guy’s a nutjob!

  “Relax, Kenzie. I’ve flown in these a million times,” he assured her.

  “You have? When?” Kenzie asked, confused.

  Carter faltered. In another life. In another world.

  “Okay, you got me,” he admitted after a moment. “Maybe not a million times, but believe me, it’s perfectly safe.”

  “I don’t know,” she said hesitantly.

  “Come on, Kenzie . . . please.” He turned a pleading gaze on her, hoping she was still susceptible to it. “I have an amazing evening planned, but we need to get in that helicopter to make it happen.”

  Kenzie bit her lip, eyeing the chopper warily. When she released her lip, Carter knew he’d won.

  “Okay. Let’s go.”

  They ran toward the helicopter and Lester helped them both in, handing them headsets before starting the rotor.

  “Just relax,” Lester said with a grin, his voice tinny over the headset. “You’ll be in Seattle in no time.”

  “How long have you been flying, Lester?” Kenzie asked, her voice cracking nervously.

  Lester laughed, exchanging a few words with the tower before pulling the stick and launching them off the ground. “Longer than you’ve been alive
, sweetie,” he said. “Used to make supply runs in ‘Nam before I took some shrapnel to my knee.” He rubbed his leg for a moment. “Ferrying tourists around the Peninsula isn’t the same as dodging mortar fire, but . . .” His voice trailed off almost longingly at the thought of his war years and Kenzie exchanged a significant look with Carter.

  See? she seemed to say with her eyes. Nutjob!

  Carter stifled a chuckle.

  They landed in Seattle and Kenzie was sufficiently awed at the sleek black limousine waiting for them. Carter found a bottle of champagne chilling inside the vehicle and mentally thanked Sandi for her foresight as he poured them both a glass.

  Kenzie sipped at the bubbly liquid. “I haven’t had champagne since Lydia and Noah’s wedding,” she said. “That didn’t go so well.”

  Carter just laughed as if he knew what she was talking about.

  “Hopefully, you won’t have to hold my hair this time,” she continued, shedding some light on what must have happened at his sister’s wedding.

  Carter smiled warmly. “I would, you know,” he replied earnestly. “I’d do anything for you, Kenzie.”

  He worried Kenzie might find the sentiment corny, but she smiled—a real smile—and Carter’s heart soared. It was working. She would forgive him and they would be happy.

  Finally.

  They pulled up to the front of the restaurant and the driver quickly rounded the limo to open the car door with a flourish. This time it was Kenzie who slipped her hand into Carter’s as they approached the glass entrance of the angular wood and stone structure. Carter held the door for Kenzie to enter, pressing his hand lightly to her lower back as they took in the flickering firelight coming from the stone fireplace, and the incredible views in the dining room beyond.

  “This is amazing, Carter,” Kenzie whispered, once the waitress had left them with ice water and a bread basket. She turned to look out the floor-to-ceiling windows at the sparkling lights of Seattle reflecting off the surface of Lake Union below them.

  “Don’t get me wrong,” she continued, “I appreciate it—really—but how can we afford all this?”

  “Don’t worry about it,” Carter replied dismissively, buttering a piece of bread. He didn’t notice Kenzie’s frown at his response, and the arrival of the waitress ended the conversation for the moment.

  The meal was exquisite, and enormous. Carter had only ordered a prawn appetizer for the two of them to share and Colorado lamb chops with couscous, while Kenzie opted for the sablefish with matsutake mushrooms and bok choy. However, the waitress kept bringing them other dishes to sample. When Carter protested that he hadn’t ordered them, the waitress simply smiled and said they were on the house. Foie gras, yellow fin tuna, steak tartare, gnocchi with black truffles . . . the list went on and on, and Carter soon lost track of what they’d eaten. Although he understood that this was because of the cover story Sandi had concocted about him being a food critic, Kenzie just laughed and marveled at their amazing luck. The owner of the restaurant even stopped by to make sure they were happy with their meal. He also presented them with a complimentary bottle of champagne as they enjoyed their dessert samplers of crème brulee, Grand Marnier soufflé, and some kind of doughnuts with passion fruit-vanilla cream, coconut, and macadamia nuts.

  Carter briefly contemplated a change in career. How hard could it be to be a food critic, anyway?

  They left the restaurant with their stomachs full, a little tipsy, and laughing at the most ridiculous things. The limo was waiting for them, and as they tumbled into the seat, Carter lost his balance, falling onto Kenzie. He found himself sprawled over her, his left knee pressed between hers and their faces so close he could feel her warm breath on his lips.

  He froze, wondering if she would protest, and unable to move until he found out. She said nothing, her eyes dipping to his lips before she licked her own slowly and brought her gaze back to meet his. He leaned closer, almost near enough to taste her mouth . . . waiting to see if she would stop him.

  She didn’t.

  Carter cheered inwardly, the man who’d longed for Kenzie Monroe for ten long years finally breathed a sigh of relief as their lips brushed gently.

  “Kenzie,” he murmured into her mouth, as she opened it on a sigh. He took it as an invitation and swept his tongue inside, shivering at the sensation as it slid sinuously along hers. She tasted of coconut and vanilla and champagne. Carter fought to not consume her, afraid he’d scare her and he’d have to stop kissing her.

  He never wanted to stop.

  Kenzie seemed to feel the same way. She tilted her head to deepen the kiss, her hands sweeping up his arms to settle on the back of his neck, massaging him gently. He moaned at the sensation, sliding his arms underneath her to pull her more firmly against him. He was rewarded by Kenzie’s gentle whimper and the tightening of her fingers in his hair. Carter caressed her soft skin and mouthed at the tender spot beneath her ear that always used to drive her crazy.

  It still did.

  They made out like teenagers, all teeth and tongue and moaning and groping . . . grinding against each other in a frenzy of lust and champagne-fueled loss of inhibition.

  “God, Carter . . .” Kenzie ripped the tails of his shirt from his pants and thrust her hands underneath, raking her nails up and down his back. Carter threw his head back, reveling in the sensation as he pulled Kenzie’s hips even tighter against his own. He lowered his head to her neck, nuzzling and kissing a trail along her shoulder as she trembled beneath him.

  As the limo came to a stop, their passion slowed, and he held her close, a heated gentleness passing through him that had less to do with lust, and everything to do with love.

  God, he loved her.

  The door slammed and Carter realized they’d arrived at the hotel. He quickly got up, shielding Kenzie from the door as he straightened her dress, ignoring his own disheveled appearance. Her eyes drifted halfway open as a sleepy smile lit her face.

  “We’re here,” he said quietly.

  Kenzie blinked, then sat up just as the driver opened the passenger door. Carter took her hand with a wide smile and led her through the huge iron gates and front gardens of the Four Seasons Hotel, then under the awning and into the spacious interior.

  “What are we doing here?” Kenzie asked, her face still slightly dazed, as if she’d just realized where they were. The champagne and the make-out session had evidently done a number on her.

  Carter leaned in to kiss her cheek. “Wait here just a minute,” he said, before approaching the check-in desk. He glanced back at Kenzie to find her biting her lip nervously as she surveyed the paneled walls, rich carpeting, and leather furniture mixed with luscious, dark fabrics. She caught his eye, smiling weakly, and Carter wondered if she was nervous . . . if he was assuming too much by taking her to a hotel.

  Of course, he realized they were married and had slept together many times. But since he’d arrived, the tension between them made it apparent that those times had been fewer and farther between lately. And the encounter in the limo was the first time he’d really had a taste of Kenzie in that way.

  He wanted more than a taste. He wanted the entire banquet.

  He swallowed thickly and turned back to the desk clerk, fighting down the animalistic urges that pushed at his control. Tonight was about winning Kenzie back. Not just getting her into bed.

  Still, he would have been lying to say he didn’t have high hopes that would be part of the package.

  Palming the room key, Carter crossed to Kenzie and wrapped an arm around her waist as they turned toward the elevators.

  “Carter, this really isn’t necessary,” she whispered. “We have a perfectly good bed at home.”

  Carter laughed as they entered the elevator and ascended to their floor. Kenzie shifted nervously on her feet, her face flushing.

  “Are you okay?” he asked.

  “Carter . . .” she began, but the opening of the elevator doors interrupted whatever she was going to say. H
e took her hand, pulling her down the hallway toward their corner suite. Opening the door with a flourish, he watched Kenzie’s face as she took in the room and her breath caught in her throat.

  A sitting area was set up in front of a massive bay window looking out over the city lights. Palm fronds swayed in the slight breeze from the heater vents, giving the room a glamorous, old-Hollywood feel. A fire burned in the fireplace off to the side, next to a gleaming wooden desk sporting yet another bottle of champagne on ice. Through a set of double doors to the left of the sitting area, a king-sized bed with white linens, piles of pillows, and a puffy cloud of a duvet beckoned.

  Carter felt it calling to him personally.

  Kenzie took a few steps into the room and spun in a slow circle, taking it all in.

  “Carter. This is too much,” she said, her voice awed.

  “No,” he replied, moving toward her and taking her in his arms. “Nothing’s too much for you.”

  “That’s sweet, really. But all of this . . . for just a few hours . . .”

  Unable to resist, he leaned in to kiss her neck, nuzzling her hair to inhale her scent. “We have all night. There’s no rush.”

  “What?”

  His lips trailed along the neckline of her dress. “We have all night. Then room service in the morning. And I thought we’d spend the day exploring the city.” He nibbled at her collarbone. “Or we could stay here, if you want. We don’t have to leave the room.”

  Suddenly she pushed him away. “We can’t stay here all night.”

  “Why not?” he asked, reaching for her. “My mom’s happy to keep the kids. You know that.”