“I just figured,” Frank said, “this is a Valentine’s party. Tonight’s about love. You deserve that, Stephie. And that fella over there sure isn’t the one to give it to you.”
She frowned. “Who?”
“That one there who keeps staring at you.”
She followed his gaze straight to Clay. He held his special little Donna close as they swayed to the music not ten feet away. “Oh, yeah. He’s definitely not the one.”
“Nope, but I think Mr. Valentine just might be.”
She grew quiet while she considered that. “He doesn’t love me.”
“That man threatened me.”
Stephanie laughed. “Right.”
“God’s honest truth, he did. He made it clear that if I ever hurt you again, I’d have to deal with him. Something told me I wouldn’t like that very much.” Frank twirled her around. “That man loves you.”
She smiled sadly. “Maybe he did...once.” Before he thought she’d only been using him for a promotion. Before Carly.
“You love him? If so, you should really—”
“I don’t want to talk about him anymore, all right?” She pulled back to look in her father’s eyes. “Please.” If she had to talk about that man right now, she’d surely fall apart. And all her badassness would immediately be replaced by heartbroken weepiness. Never a good look, especially when one was running a news station and was currently surrounded by peers.
He stared at her for a few seconds as the song ended. “Okay,” he said.
People applauded, drowning out the DJ’s words. Shockingly, Chance’s odd taste in music was going over rather well with this crowd. She had to give him credit. The one good thing about never seeing him again was she’d never have to give him credit out loud.
He was smug enough already. She needed to focus on that instead of how gorgeous he was with those eyes and those dimples. She needed to concentrate on his faults since not thinking of him at all seemed an impossible task. His expert ability to piss her off was something worth remembering, not the way he could make her come so hard she’d pass out.
Fine, she thought, biting her lip. That might be worth remembering.
Still, he was inherently selfish. Yes, he’d helped her dads out of some sticky situations, but she couldn’t trust his motives. Had he really done those things for their benefit? Hers? Or because he thought they might benefit him? Surely that was it. The man couldn’t see past his own interests. Hell, he probably hadn’t heard half of what she’d told him during their short time together. It was to be expected, though, when you were dealing with a conceited son of a—
As she and Frank left the dance floor, an eighties song started to play.
“I can’t believe him,” she said softly, shaking her head.
Frank leaned closer to hear her. “What happened?”
“A Colony of Seagulls,” she said, blinking back tears.
Frank frowned. “What?”
“Never mind.” With a heavy heart, she watched as partygoers grooved to the music. She stuck out her chin. The schmuck would have to give her some credit, too—if he were there.
“Hey, kid.” Kenny wrapped an arm around her shoulders, and she rested her head against his chest.
“Hey.” She sniffed back tears. “I’m glad you made it.”
“Like I’d let him miss this,” Gwen said.
Smiling, she gave Kenny’s wife a big hug. “Hi.”
Her brown eyes glistened with unshed tears when she pulled back to look at Stephanie. “Thank you, baby,” she said, clasping Stephanie’s hands. “For everything you’ve done for Kenny, for my family.”
“I didn’t do anything.”
“You did. If not for you, Mr. Valentine never would have helped him. He never would have known he even needed help.” Gwen pulled her in close. “Thank you,” she repeated.
She didn’t trust herself to speak just then, but somehow she managed a, “You’re welcome.” Frank cleared his throat. “Oh, I’m sorry. Frank, this is Kenny Thomas and his wife, Gwen. Kenny’s been my boss for years. Kenny, Gwen...this is Frank.” She glanced at him. “My father.”
Gwen raised her eyebrows. “Oh, well,” she stuck out her hand, “it’s nice to meet you.” As the matriarch of Stephanie’s unofficial second family, she knew all about Stephanie’s history with him; she had just never met the man before. She glanced at her husband. “I’ll go get us something to drink, honey.” Giving Frank a warm smile, she walked away.
Frank held out his hand to him. “It’s nice to meet you.”
Kenny regarded the man. Finally, he shook his hand. “Same. But do right by her this time around, okay?” He gave Frank a hard pat on the shoulder before squeezing it. “It just wouldn’t be good if you didn’t.” He leaned down to give Stephanie a peck on the cheek. “Later, kid,” he said, walking off.
Frank frowned as he watched him go. “He loves you too.”
“How do you know?” she asked with a smile.
“He just threatened me.”
She laughed. “He did not.”
“Oh, that was a threat.”
Stephanie cocked her head. “Maybe.” She shrugged. “But I love him too so he gets to threaten you.”
Frank’s expression transformed into a sneer. “That guy is my age,” he whispered furiously. “Lord, I wanted a good life for you. Now you’re some older man’s mistress— And you’re sleeping with him while you’re buddyin’ up to his wife.” He slapped a palm to his forehead.
She held up a hand to stop him. “He’s my dad.”
Frank looked at her blankly for several seconds. Then, he got it. “Oh,” he said softly before averting his eyes. “Ew.”
“Exactly.”
They laughed.
“Come on,” Stephanie said. “Let’s go get something to drink.”
“Not the punch,” they said before sharing a smile.
Carly sashayed over with a champagne glass in her hand. “Well now,” she said, giving Frank a slow once over. “Who is this handsome man?” She took a sip of her drink.
Stephanie crossed her arms. “My father.”
Carly choked on her champagne, but, unfortunately, recovered quickly. “Oh.”
“Yeah,” Stephanie said, grabbing his arm. “I guess he’s not quite as funny as he was when you first saw him, huh?” Just as Carly’s face grew red, Stephanie leaned in, lowering her voice. “You might want to go to the ladies’ room.”
“Why?” Carly put a hand to her rosy cheek. “What’s wrong?”
Placing a finger beneath Carly’s chin, Stephanie turned her face side to side while she inspected her. “It looks like you got a little— Is that...?” Squinting, she nodded. “Yep. That’s egg all right.”
Carly glared at her.
“You really have to stop being so dirty, Carlene. That’s when stuff like this happens. Excuse us.” Stephanie gave her a sly smile before walking away with Frank.
Chapter 41
Chance cursed under his breath when he entered the ballroom. He was such an idiot for being there. His grandfather would have a good ol’ time cracking up about this. And he was getting up there in age, not to mention, he’d smoked for most of his life. This meant he was not only going to laugh his ass off, he was going to laugh until he wheezed and coughed.
Chance had argued with himself from the moment he’d gotten this crazy plan in his head until he’d boarded the plane to Oklahoma City. Hell, he wasn’t done yet.
There was still time to come to his senses. Leaving right now, with most of his dignity intact, was the smartest idea he’d had in a while. No one would be the wiser. He was disgusted with himself in so many ways. There he was, slinking back to a woman who’d been using him for nothing more than a thankless job with cushy benefits, a woman whose last words to him amounted to, “I hated you then; I hate you now. Goodbye.”
He groaned even as he scanned the crowd. It would be nice to get at least a glimpse of her. He wondered what she was wearing. Then, he
immediately thought of various things he would do to her once he removed whatever the hell it was she was wearing. He didn’t see her. Chance sighed. Damn it. Just leave, man. It was over.
He gave the room one last scan before turning to go. Just then, he realized what song was playing—that damn Seagulls song Love liked so much. He smiled. It looked like that was to be his final way of reaching out to her. Chance took a deep breath before stepping toward the door. He frowned down at the hand tugging on his arm.
“Why, Chance Valentine, don’t you dare leave without saying hello.”
He lifted his gaze to her face. “Carly,” he said with a little nod.
She put her hands on her hips and pouted. “Now don’t tell me you’re still angry with me.”
He gave her an impartial look. “I really don’t feel anything for you at all.”
Flinching, she stared into his eyes for a moment. “Oh, um...ouch.” She cast her eyes down. “I’m sorry,” she mumbled. “I’ve always hated her, but I liked you—I did. When I realized the two of you were in love, I shouldn’t have gone through with my crazy plan to get back at her. It backfired anyway.”
“By default, she would’ve forfeited the GM position by being a no-show at work. I thought she knew she was the new interim, though, and just wanted to make us all sweat while we waited to see what she’d do. Well, you know what she did do?”
Chance didn’t respond. He hadn’t heard much of what she’d said after one certain part.
“You’re looking at KMLP’s newest field reporter. A field reporter, for Pete’s sake,” she whispered furiously as she stepped closer. “That bitch demoted the hell out of me.” Sighing, she folded her arms. “So, you see? You don’t have to be pissed at me—your little ray of evil sunshine is already making my life hell.” She frowned at him. “What?”
“When did you realize we were in love? What are you talking about?”
Carly rolled her eyes. “Everything I just said and that’s all you got out of it?” She pulled a tube of lip-gloss from her clutch bag and applied some. “Yep. In love.”
He didn’t have time for this. “Excuse me, Carly.” He turned to go.
“That day, in your office, when I asked you about coming here with me...”
Chance faced her once again.
“I was talking crap about her, and you just starting naming all these so-called good qualities she has. And then, when I accused her of using you for your money, she denied it. Of course, I’d expected her to. It’s just— Well, she seemed genuine when she started listing reasons you were a catch. Reasons that had nothing to do with money. I asked her if she was in love with you.”
His breath hitched in his throat. “What did she say?”
“She said she doesn’t do love.”
He smiled. Yeah. That was his devil woman all right.
“Of course...” Shrugging, she returned the gloss to her clutch. “Even if she did love you, why would she tell me?”
He reflected on that for a few moments. She was right, of course. She was the last person to whom Love would confide her feelings. He needed someone she trusted enough to tell. Unfortunately, that narrowed his choices in a very bad way. He looked around.
Amber! “Uh, thanks, Carly. If you’ll excuse me...” He spotted Love’s friend with a small group of people near the back of the room. He walked toward them, but stopped to look back. “Oh, and Carly?”
She raised her eyebrows.
“I forgive you.”
She smiled. “Th—”
“Because you’re right. Love really is going to make you suffer enough as it is.” Chance smirked just as her smile slipped.
“Thanks,” she said dryly.
Chuckling, he made his way to Amber. If anyone would get the scoop on Love’s true feelings for him, it would be her. He waved, trying to catch her attention. Finally, he succeeded.
She grinned as she rushed over to him. “It’s the schmuck,” she said excitedly.
Frowning, Chance looked around before pointing to himself in question.
She waved his confusion off. “Yes, you.” Beaming, she patted him on the chest. “It’s good to—” Hiccup. “It’s good to see you.”
“Thanks, you too.” He hated to be rude, but there was no time for small talk. “Have you seen her? She is here, right?”
Amber held up her glass. “You have got to try this.” She took a deep breath and swayed to the left slightly.
Chance instinctively reached out to catch her should she fall, but she managed to recover in time.
“It’s alcololic—holic punch from Belin—” She looked up. “This is my song!” She began dancing away from him.
Chance caught her by her free hand and gently spun her back around to face him. “Wait.”
“Oh,” she said, her words continuing to slur, “you wanna dance? Come on.”
“Amber, listen to me.” He bent down to look her directly in the eye and spoke slowly. “I need to find Love.”
She gave him a sad smile and caressed his cheek. “So do I...so do a lot of people,” she said as she nodded knowingly. “The key is—” Hiccup. “—to keep it once you find it.” Amber lifted her arms in the air and swayed them to the music. “This is my song,” she repeated before she shimmied away again. This time he just watched, in confusion, as she lost herself in the crowd.
He arched his eyebrow. “What the—”
“Don’t mind her,” Kenny said, coming to stand next to him. “She’s, ah...drunk as hell.”
“To put it mildly.” Chance turned to him and they shook hands. “How’ve you been?”
“Great, thanks to you. So what are you doing back here, Mr. Valentine?”
He gave him a halfhearted smile. “How many times do I have to tell you to stop calling me that?” There was no point in hiding his shame from Kenneth Thomas. He was sure the man guessed more than most people knew. And he was someone Love trusted. “I came here to see her.”
He nodded. “Then see her.”
“I’m trying to talk myself out of that.”
“Why?”
“She hates me, for one thing.”
Kenny gazed out at the dancing couples. “Don’t know that that’s true.”
“What do you know?”
He shrugged. “I may know she was in a hurry to make things right with you once I explained to her that you didn’t want her fired.” Kenny gave him a fleeting look. “But you’d left already.”
Chance’s heart began an attempt to hammer its way from his chest. He’d given up on her. That was the way she’d see it even if the truth was, she’d given up on him by not giving him an opportunity to explain. “So she didn’t hate me, but she does now,” he said to himself.
“Don’t know that I said that.”
Chance looked at him blankly, and Kenny smiled.
A petite woman approached, wagging her finger. “Kenneth, don’t think you’re getting out of dancing with me tonight.”
He bent down—way down—to give her a kiss. “I wouldn’t dream of it.” He turned to Chance. “Mr.— Uh, Chance, this is my wife, Gwen. Gwen, this is Chance Valentine.”
Chance reached out his hand. “It’s lovely to finally meet—” The woman’s eyes welled up with tears. “I’m sorry, uh,” he looked at Kenny for help before gazing down at the woman again, “are you okay?”
Without warning, Gwen pulled him closer.
Chance widened his eyes.
She gave him a tight embrace. “Thank you, Mr. Valentine. Those words aren’t nearly enough, but they’re all I have.” Her face pressed against his chest, muffling her voice, but he still understood.
He returned her hug. “You’re more than welcome, Mrs.—”
“Nonsense,” she said, stepping back and dabbing her eyes. “You save a woman’s husband’s life, you get to call that woman by her first name.”
He smiled at her and brought her hand to his lips for a kiss. “Then, you’re very welcome, Gwen.”
Lookin
g at Kenny, she nodded. “This is the one. Come on,” she called back as she headed for the dance floor.
“The one what?”
“For Stephanie. She’s kind of our daughter so we tend to keep up with her love life. We haven’t liked any of her exes.”
“Clayton Morrison the Third?”
Kenny gave him an ‘are you serious’ look before chuckling. “We can’t stand that damn man.” He walked off to join Gwen on the dance floor.
Chance smiled. “That makes three of us,” he said to himself. With his hands in his pockets and his shoulders slumped, he knew he had to look as dejected as he felt. He walked the room, always on the lookout for a glimpse of her face. Nothing. A slow song started to play. He was momentarily hopeful and then... He sighed. It was one of those damned eighties songs.
He stopped to watch the couples dance. Huh. He’d always known they’d like the sixties stuff, but they didn’t seem to hate Love’s weird favorites. Maybe the brat had a point. Maybe. As he stood there watching people dance, he listened to the song’s words. Of course, it was about love. Weren’t most songs, in one way or another?
Chance continued to fix his attention on the smiling, happy couples, but he no longer saw them. Instead, he thought of the times he had danced with Love. At Mister’s, when she was still just an exasperating pain, and that time in the office, after she’d become the center of his entire world, his heart. There was no way he intended to go the rest of his life, miserable, without her.
If she hated him... Well, she’d just have to get over it. As shameful as it may be, he would beg—get down on his knees and beg—her to forgive him. It was a relief beyond words that his brother wasn’t around to witness the lengths Chance was ready to go to for this woman.
His grandfather was right; pride didn’t mean a thing when it came to matters of the heart. After all, Love was the one who should be hunting him down to beg for forgiveness. But she wouldn’t do that. Because she was insufferable. She was insufferable and complicated and...he was madly in love with her.
Chance on Love Page 28