The Second Chance

by Catherine Mann

  “All marriages have bumps in the road. Fertility treatments took their toll. We’d decided to stop trying for a while.”

  “And that’s everything?” Her forehead furrowed.

  He needed to tread warily in case her memory returned. “It’s difficult to share everything. We had arguments. No marriage is perfect.” He scratched the back of his neck, weighing his words. “You have enough to deal with. How do I tell you about arguments without it sounding like I’m trying to excuse myself or without condemning myself?”

  “Did you cheat on me?” she blurted out.

  “No. Never,” he said without hesitation.

  No one compared to Shana. While their love had faded, the physical attraction had always burned intensely between them.

  “I want to believe you.” Her eyes were so earnest, blue flames in the glow of the dashboard light.

  “I want that as well.” He reached to stroke her cheek, his fingers sliding into her silky hair.

  She swayed toward him, firing the barely banked heat inside him back to life. The attraction between them was an undeniable constant. Four years ago at this time, they’d been finishing their wedding reception, anticipating being alone together on his private jet, starting their honeymoon.

  Memories of that night stirred his desire higher. He urged her forward ever so carefully. Her hands flattened on his chest and he wondered for a moment if she intended to push him away. But then her fingers clenched in the flannel of his shirt and she pulled him forward.

  Close. So close.

  And then, yes. His mouth covered hers, her lips parting in welcome. Her hands slid up his chest and she looped her arms around his neck.

  No hesitation. No doubt. She wanted this kiss, too.

  Wanted him.

  Heat seared his veins, throbbing and gathering until he was hard from wanting her. Somehow, no matter what problems they faced, he could never get enough of this woman. Being inside her surpassed anything he’d felt before—and was all he could think about now.

  His hand tunneled up beneath her sweater and he found the sweet curve of her breast encased in lace. She arched into his touch with a breathy sigh that caressed his cheek. Her head fell back and he pressed his lips to the vulnerable curve of her neck, right where he knew she liked best. He damn well would make the best use of his knowledge of what made her writhe with pleasure.

  He needed every advantage he could get Shana.

  He nipped her earlobe on the way back up to her lips—

  Only to be stopped short as he caught sight of movement over her shoulder. A man and woman heading to the room Chuck and Shana had been watching all night.

  The target had arrived.

  Disappointment stung deep. As much as Chuck would have liked to ignore the world outside the SUV, he couldn’t. They were here for a reason, an important one.

  He would have to wait to finish that kiss—and to claim Shana as his once again.

  Seven

  Never before had Shana been disappointed that her job went well, but she couldn’t deny she would have liked another moment to follow through on the attraction to Chuck.

  But he’d given her this case, and she wanted to prove her independence, her business savvy. She owed it to him and to his family to help how she could.

  A woman on a mission couldn’t be stopped.

  Shana pulled up her camera and started snapping photos. Better too many than not enough. She adjusted the lens, anchoring her focus on the man in the long, sleek black coat. Even in the dim lighting, she managed to capture a few images of his face. She zoomed in more on his features, the weathered lines on his face. As for the woman, she seemed more guarded. For one, the woman had her back to them. Might this woman actually be Milla Jones? Could they be that lucky right away?

  Maybe, it was certainly possible from the photos Shana had seen. The long blond hair and height were right.

  Her pulse echoed in her ears with a jagged heartbeat, and her limbs sang with anticipation. She needed this to be right. Needed to prove something to herself. That she still had her sleuthing skills. That she could take revelatory photos and discern clues from the mundane breath of daily life.

  And she’d be lying if she said she didn’t want to impress her sexy, broad-shouldered husband.

  Her fingers worked quickly, adjusting the camera as needed to obtain the clearest images.

  She snapped a quick photo of the license plate, then shifted back to the couple.

  He worked the key card, and Shana snagged additional photos of the man she suspected had sent the bank transactions. Time slipping by now. Shana trained her camera on the female suspect. Sending up a silent plea, Shana wished the woman would just glance over her shoulder. All she needed was a moment.

  The female in question turned to get her overnight bag, the light shining on her face, a cigarette dangling out of the corner of her mouth, the tip glowing brighter in the night with a long drag.

  There. The reveal.

  Clicks like rapid fire, she captured the woman’s face. Heart pounding. The thrill of her work coursing through her.

  Chuck growled in frustration. “It’s not Milla Jones.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Absolutely. About ten years older, and I never once saw Milla smoke.”

  Disappointment churned. It really would have been too simple for things to have worked out this quickly. Regardless, Shana had a lead on the guy, photos to track and his current vehicle.

  “If you’re certain, then I guess that’s it for tonight.”

  Resting the camera in her lap, she snapped the lens cover back in place. As she moved, her fingers brushed against Chuck’s jeans-clad leg. Butterflies took flight in her stomach.

  Heat flared in his eyes. He ran a hand down the back of her neck. Subtle. Sexy as hell. “Sorry your stakeout was a bust.”

  Her neck still tingled from the casual touch. “Not a total bust. I got some photos and a license plate number. Those may still provide new leads. I just need to keep gathering the pieces.” She drew in the last sip of her milkshake before tossing the cup in the trash sack. “So, what do you want to do for the rest of our anniversary?”

  The question had sounded more innocent when she’d thought it. Now it filled the air between them, words loaded with a double meaning.

  Her mind went back to the feel of his mouth on hers, his kiss, the familiar connection. It was a day to commemorate, and she desperately wanted to remember a part of that.

  Which didn’t seem to be happening.

  After a night charged with tension, and romance all around them in the most unlikely of places, she craved some of that for herself.

  “The question should be, what do you want, Shana?”

  She licked her dry lips, unable to miss the way his eyes followed the movements. She looked at him through her lashes, then...hell, straight on. Direct. No coyness. “I want you to kiss me.”

  “I can definitely accommodate.”

  Hand cupping her chin, he breathed new life into her. The kiss was as intoxicating as wine to a parched palate.

  The confines of the SUV proved tight. He guided her over the bucket seats onto the back bench, then climbed over to join her.

  Like high schoolers on a date, they stretched out on the seat, him on top of her, kissing. And kissing. Luxuriating in the pleasure of connecting. Their bodies knew each other well, even though Shana’s memory of their past had been wiped away.

  He slid his hand under the hem of her sweater again, his palm to her back. She groaned with pleasure, grabbing his wrist and guiding it upward, higher and higher until he cupped her breast. One, then the other, he stroked until her nipples beaded in response.

  Her hands were just as busy, curiously exploring his chest, down his back as she met him kiss for kiss, touch for touch.

  H
is knee nestled between her legs, pressing against the core of her. She rolled her hips, husky sighs slipping between her lips as she worked against him.

  “I want more than a kiss. I want you.”

  * * *

  Chuck had driven home as fast as safely possible, his body on fire with the prospect of having his wife in his bed again.

  Naked.

  Under him.

  Over him.

  This wasn’t an invitation he intended to turn down. Who would have thought a stakeout would be more of a turn-on than his plans of a dinner at a five-star restaurant with live music? His mind raced with plan B—places to make love to her...and the perfect solution came to mind.

  Not in the bed.

  But in the greenhouse.

  Her favorite place on their property. Something damn special for this second chance to have Shana in his arms.

  He steered the car past their home, the four-wheel drive managing the narrower path to the hothouse with no difficulty.

  “Chuck, um, where are we going?” She glanced over at the barn as they passed by.

  “I think every woman should be showered with flowers on her anniversary, and that’s just what I intend for you. An abundance of them.”

  Already he could envision her wearing nothing but the necklace and flower petals in the warmth of the greenhouse.

  Her gaze shifted forward as they approached the domed glass structure. Her mouth bowed in an “oh.” He reveled in the pleased surprise on her face.

  “I like the way you think, husband.”

  Husband.

  That word seared through him. Her acknowledgment that she was his.

  Hell yes, it was a primal thing. He couldn’t deny it. Didn’t want to.

  She was his wife. Carrying his child. They were linked. The searing chemistry between them was their right to enjoy.

  And he intended for them both to indulge to the max.

  As they made their way from the SUV, he draped an arm around her shoulders to keep her warm and make sure she didn’t slip on the ice. Her curves fit against him in a way he remembered well and had missed lately.

  He opened the greenhouse, a blast of humid warmth wafting out, carrying the floral perfume in the air. He drew her inside and swept the hood of her parka down, angling to seal his mouth to hers. She tasted of snowflakes and passion. Her hands gripped his jacket, urging him closer, but not nearly close enough.

  With restless hands, he tugged off her parka and shucked his jacket, winter gear falling to the floor. With his hands bare, he stroked her back and lower, lifting her against him and deepening the kiss. Desire hummed through his veins, pulsing faster, harder. So much so, he considered setting her on the counter behind them and burying himself inside her now.

  But that hadn’t been his plan in coming here.

  He eased back a step. She reached for him, and he kissed the tip of her nose. “Patience. I promise it will be worth the wait.”

  “I look forward to your delivering.” Smiling, she leaned back against the wooden counter and watched him through sultry, narrowed eyes.

  He strode to the reading nook in the back corner, an addition Shana had added for herself. Moonbeams streamed through the roof, illuminating the room along with the warm glow of heat lamps over seedlings. He pulled an afghan off the chaise and spread it on the floor, ever aware of her watchful gaze. Walking the length of the hothouse, he gathered irises and roses, plucking the petals and spreading them on the blanket. He turned to face her, his arms open.

  She slipped off the counter and headed toward him without hesitation, her body a sultry glide of beauty that still left him breathless.

  Sealing his mouth to hers again, he lost himself in the feel of her in his arms. Barely breaking contact, he peeled the sweater from her, sweeping it upward as she extended her arms to help him go all the faster.

  “Shana,” he said, eyeing her with reverence. “I want to take my time with you.”

  “That can absolutely happen, because we will be doing this more than once tonight.” She tugged his belt loose. “Now let’s get rid of these clothes so I can see you.”

  Her boldness surprised him, pleased him. He’d expected more hesitancy because of her amnesia. But he should have known. At the core, she was still his Shana. Bold. Unique. Ready to take what she wanted from the world.

  At times he struggled with how that conflicted with her distrust of that same world, giving her a vulnerability he’d never quite grasped how to handle.

  None of which he wanted to ponder right now with his beautiful wife shimmying out of her jeans in front of him.

  He made haste to ditch his own clothes, his boots landing with a thud on top of her sweater. Until finally—finally—they were both bare. The appreciation in her eyes notched up his need for her as it dawned on him that—to her—this was their first time.

  Slowly, carefully, he lowered her onto the afghan, the press of her body against the flower petals releasing a hint of perfume. He lifted a rose and trailed it along her skin, teasing whispers of pleasure from her lips. With each stroke of the rose, he traced the path with his mouth until her body writhed under his touch.

  Her fingers gripped into his shoulders and she urged him upward over her, her legs parting to welcome him, her feet sliding up the backs of his calves. The warmth of her around him threatened to send him over the edge. It had been too long since they’d been together without a host of angry words placing a barrier between them.

  Except he didn’t want to think about the past now.

  He just wanted to move, to thrust into his wife again and again, her hips arching up to meet him. Perspiration slicked their bodies, sealing flesh to flesh. Right now, he couldn’t think of a better anniversary they’d shared.

  His senses homed in to the here and now. The whoosh of the mister—the rustle of the leaves—the steam of the heated space—it was like a tropical haven in the middle of their storm-tossed landscape.

  He rolled onto his back, and she purred her pleasure as she sat astride him. His fingers dug into the soft flesh of her hips, guiding her. Not that she seemed to need any assistance in knowing just how to move to drive him to the edge of completion. He gritted his teeth to hold back, determined to make this last as long as humanly possible—and to make sure she found her release.

  Snow gathered on the clear glass roof, moonlight whispering through to cast honeyed beams along her creamy skin. Why had he never thought to do this with her here before? They’d made love countless times in the past, but there was a newness to this moment, to his wife.

  His hands grazed upward to cup the sweet weight of her breasts, a perfect fit. He circled her nipples with his thumbs, teasing each into a hard bead of passion. All the while he watched her face, the way her eyes closed, how her nose flared with breathy sighs.

  Then her spine arched and her head flung back. This, her body, he knew so well. She was close, and so was he. Restraint fell away and he guided her onto her back again, plunging inside her, savoring her husky cries of bliss that sent him plummeting into an explosion of sensation.

  As aftershocks rippled through them, he grasped the edge of the blanket and draped the other half over them, petals whispering around them. He shifted, gathering her close to his side.

  Shana rested her head on his chest. “Was it always like this between us?”

  Such a complex question.

  In some ways yes, but there had also been the tension of sex on a schedule to conceive, then the stress of their marriage crumbling. The attraction had always been intense, yet the pressures of life took away the abandon of living purely in the moment.

  She tipped her head to look at him. “Did I say something wrong?”

  Nothing slipped past her. Every misstep, pause, eye movement seemed to betray him.

  “Not at all. Everything’s right. And yes
, we’ve always been this intensely attracted to each other.”

  That was true, at least.

  “Hmm, I wish I could remember.” Those alert, showstopping blue eyes fluttered shut, as if she was trying to conjure up the past.

  A past he knew to be fraught with pain and complications.

  A past he didn’t want to burden her with now.

  “Shhh.” He kissed her temple. “Let’s just enjoy the now.”

  So much easier said than done.

  * * *

  Stretching in her bed the next morning, Shana luxuriated in the flannel sheets against her well-loved flesh. Having sex with Chuck had been everything she’d imagined—and more. She couldn’t imagine having forgotten a man like him, but she didn’t intend to let regrets steal the pleasure of what they’d shared.

  She vaguely remembered Chuck getting dressed in the greenhouse, then wrapping her in a blanket and carrying her to bed. He’d started to leave for the guest suite and she’d sleepily reached out a hand for him to stay.

  And he did.

  Beside her through the night, asleep still now.

  She took the moment to study him at her leisure. He slept on his back, sprawling. He was a bed hog, and somehow knowing that intimate detail about him made her smile.

  He was so in control in day-to-day life, the abandon during sleep touched her heart. He was such a strong man, but in sleep he seemed more...real. Less perfect. Which made him all the more endearing somehow.

  More approachable?

  An ease had settled between them during their lovemaking, as real and as corporeal as the light streaming through the oversize windows. Last night, she hadn’t fought tooth and nail for a scrap of her past to come bounding back to her. Instead, she’d moved in the present.

  Although last night, her body had certainly seemed to remember his well. She could still smell the sweet scent of flowers clinging to their bodies.

  They’d certainly been in sync on a sensual level even if she had no recall of being with him before. Her flesh hummed with awareness of having been well loved.