Second Chances

by Leigh Morgan

  Before Rhia could thank Gareth for the directions, one of the most earthly beautiful women she’d ever seen said in a deep, compelling voice, “Here you go, Dear. This is from Ramsey. He seems to think you need it after what he called your ‘sheep trauma’. I swear that man can’t afford to lose any more bloody brain cells. His I.Q. has been dropping steadily over the past decade. He said you’d know what he meant. I’m saying there be no reason you should be knowin’ that man’s mind. Nobody else bloody well does.” The woman shrugged, gave a mischievous grin and was gone before Rhia could respond.

  Rhia heard little of the woman’s statements after the sheep comment registered in her tired brain. So Mr. Jaguar had a name, Ramsey. It was a good name, Rhia thought. Too bad Mr. Stud-Muffin couldn’t live up to it. Rhia scanned the bar slowly and spotted him on the other end of the bar staring at her. Something about the way he lifted his drink to salute her made Rhia’s blood boil.

  Eyeing the concoction in front of her she felt the irrational urge to pour it over his head. Half black and half amber it looked unappetizing as hell. But, she’d seen the challenge in his eyes and suddenly it didn’t matter that she didn’t like beer.

  Rhia picked up the glass, took a deep breath, and downed the entire thing. She slammed the glass down on the bar when she finished and searched for a napkin to wipe her mouth. She wanted to wipe her mouth with the back of her hand but she just couldn’t bring herself to be so deliberately crude. She’d worked too hard acquiring the manners she had to toss them back like she had the beer. Apparently bars in Wales didn’t keep napkins stacked at the bar for sloppy Americans. A napkin magically appeared over her shoulder and the air around her crackled like dry lightning on a hot summer night.

  “I don’t know what to make of you Rí’. You seem like such a lady. But then you talk to animals like a lunatic and down pints like a bar maid.” Rhia stiffened and stifled the urge to belch like a fifteen year old boy. Ramsey laughed low in his throat, seeming to sense her plight.

  “Trying to break out of your pearls and car-pool life? What would the PTA say?” He whispered just above her ear. He wasn’t touching her but that didn’t stop his gravel and honey voice from caressing her.

  Rhia didn’t turn toward him as she grabbed the proffered napkin and wiped her mouth. He’d hit a little too close to home with his questions. Did she really look that repressed? That needy?

  Rhia looked down at her Eddie Bauer jeans, faded cotton polo and penny loafers that had seen better days. Risking a quick glance in the mirror behind the bar, Rhia had to admit between her clothing and her preppy head band she did look a teeny bit repressed. She reached up as surreptitiously as possible to open a button at her neck when she felt them.

  Well hell. She was wearing the strand of pearls her parents had given her for her twenty-first birthday. So much for getting more daring with her polo.

  She froze as Ram eased one finger under her hair, inside the neck of her shirt, capturing the strand of fresh water pearls. He made slow work of setting them gently outside her shirt. Rhia raised her chin a notch and refused to say a word. She liked pearls, damn the man anyway. Pearls were sexy. Weren’t they?

  “For someone so predictable, I think you have some surprises hidden deep inside. Do you Rí’? Are you willing to let your inner bad-girl come out and play?” His deep voice was a tangible thing, now. Rhia was feeling warm, too warm, and she didn’t think it was just the beer hitting her system, but she knew that was part of it. Why else would she feel this melty inside, like anything was possible if she just let go and let it happen?

  No one in the bar could hear him, although Rhia thought, they all seemed to be paying attention. He hadn’t acted inappropriately to an outside observer, yet the minute he touched her, Rhia felt the walls closing in. She was hot and cold at the same time, causing goose bumps to appear all over. That threw her breathing off until she was sucking air, taking it in way too quickly.

  Rhia couldn’t remember reacting to a man like this. Certainly not with her ex-husband. Not even with Robin Makowski, her first crush in fourth grade, she’d just punched him in the eye and been done with it. Signaling her attraction had been so much easier back then.

  Ram plopped down in the empty bar stool next to her and signaled the bartender. Suddenly there was a glass of water and another of the awful two-toned beers in front of her. She opted for the water.

  “So what about it Rí. Wanna come out and play with me?”

  “Why would I want to do that? You think because I wear pearls I’d jump at the chance to get in bed with you?” Rhia’s face flamed. Why did she say whatever popped into her head when she talked to this man? Something about him sent her senses and her brain into overload. She just wasn’t any good at this.

  Ram’s smile turned wolfish. “Don’t forget the reading material. I can help you with your research. I’m at your service, so to speak.”

  Ram finished his beer, but didn’t ask for another. He was better at drinking beer than she was. He didn’t need to wipe his mouth when he was done. Although, Rhia had to admit, he hadn’t gulped it all down at once. God, she was such an idiot.

  “Really Rí, thanks for offering your bed - maybe later.” Rhia sputtered, but couldn’t manage a comeback before he continued. “But, I had dinner and maybe some clubbing in mind. I’d like the company. Are you game?”

  Rhia turned to look at him fully. Even lounging on the bar stool it was hard to miss how big he was. Tall and broad shouldered, he was well built, but he wasn’t one of those men with no neck and fewer brains. He moved with the effortless grace of an athlete and something about the way he looked at her said he had a sharp intellect hidden behind that macho, playboy act.

  No doubt about it, this man was dangerous to her senses.

  “Why would I go with you. I don’t know anything about you, besides the fact that you’re obnoxious, over-confident and you know your animals. That doesn’t make a date. And stop calling me ‘Rí’. It’s too intimate.”

  “Ah, but I want to be intimate with you, so no way will I stop now.”

  She frowned as he laughed.

  “Rí is Gaelic for ‘king’”, Ram explained. “Only a supreme monarch would be crazy enough to order sheep around.” Ram grinned and something she couldn’t determine danced in his eyes before he buried it. “My name is Ramsey Macleod, although, Molly already mentioned that.”

  He searched her face after he said his name. What was he looking for, Rhia wondered? She couldn’t think of one reason for his hesitation or his scrutiny. Maybe he was sensitive about his name. She couldn’t imagine why. It was just like him, strong, attractive and unique. Rhia liked it immensely.

  Where had that thought come from? Too much beer, too fast. Too much green-eyed-sexy-smelling-stud was more like it, Rhia thought.

  “I know my animals because I spent my summers here as a kid. I fell in love with the first woman who called me obnoxious in kindergarten. She was my teacher. I never got over Mrs. Richardsen, so watch what you call me, Sweetheart. You wouldn’t want to break my heart.” Ram smiled at the unlady-like snort that comment engendered.

  “You haven’t told me your name, yet. I could call you ‘Darlin’, but something tells me you’d hate that more than ‘Rí’.” Ram said taking a sip of his water. When he looked at her again the challenge was back in eyes, but milder this time.

  “This wouldn’t be a date. It would be dinner and clubbing.” Ram reached over and rubbed the top of her hand. “Trust me, you aren’t going to find anyone else to try out all those positions you’re researching here.” His eyes sparkled down into hers. “I promise to be a complete gentleman, until you ask me not to be.”

  Turning her hand over, Ram lightly caressed her palm. “Come to Cardiff with me. It’s only an hour away. No strings. No date. Just dinner and dancing. Take a risk Rí. Come play with me. What have you got to lose?” His tone turned caressing again, although his face showed only innocent playfulness.

  What did sh
e have to lose? Isn’t this one of the reasons she came to Wales? It had been nearly two decades since she’d been asked out, and she’d never had a man this compelling ask her to dance.

  Rhia sat up straighter on her stool. She needed to get a backbone. She wanted this, she just hadn’t expected it to come so quickly. She needed the practice, and what could it hurt to practice with someone she’d probably never see again? He was smooth, Rhia had to give him points for that. She thought about it and didn’t know why she trusted this man, but she did. She wanted to dance and play with him. She decided to take the bull, or in this case the Ram, by the horns.

  “I need to check into my rental.” Rhia eyed her attire and told him the truth. “I’ve never been clubbing, but I’m pretty sure I’m not wearing the right clothes. The airline lost my bags. What you see is what you get.” Rhia said gesturing down at her less than elegant clothing.

  Ram grabbed her arm in one hand and her purse in the other. “I can take care of that.” She was off the barstool and at the other end of the bar before she could protest. Ram motioned to Gareth, the bartender.

  “Gareth, you know where she’s staying. Call and let them know she’ll be checking in late tonight.” He gave Rhia a quick glance. “Or maybe tomorrow.”

  Rhia watched as the bartender tried valiantly to interrupt. “Ram, there’s something you should...” Ramsey Macleod was having none of it.

  “Just give ‘em a call Gareth. Tell the caretaker I’ll cover whatever expenses come with the delay.” Then he winked at the still sputtering Gareth. “Don’t worry I’ll take good care of her.”

  Ram smiled down at her, and just like that they were out the door.

  What had she gotten herself into?

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Ram had her purse in his hand as he opened the car door to help her, and he palmed her wallet. Once they were safely on the road he fished out her driver’s license.

  “Hey, what do you think...” He heard her screech. She tried to pull it away but he held it fast.

  “Stop that.” He said batting her hands away. “You’re going to cause an accident. Besides I still don’t know your name and I’m getting tired of asking.”

  Ram whistled at the photo. It showed a younger version of the woman next to him with hair so painfully short it stood straight out. “Rebellious phase?” He asked

  “Oh shut up. It was a perm gone bad. I had to have it cut out.”

  “It’s kinda cute. Or at least it would be if you weren’t scowling at the camera.” Man teasing her was fun. She could turn all kinds of shades from pink to deep plum.

  “The man behind the counter called me ‘Sir’. I was angry.” Her look dared him to comment further. He didn’t. She’d probably hit him, accident or no accident.

  “Ah, here we go. Rhiannon Thorson. Milwaukee, Wisconsin. Always did like Milwaukee. Great festivals. Decent art museum.” Ram grinned at her unladylike grunt.

  “Hey, I’ve been to an art museum once or twice. Milwaukee’s isn’t the Louvre, but then what is?” She snorted this time. Damn the lady was as full of sounds as she was colors.

  “Five foot four. Hum, I’d say you lied by at least an inch. And one-hundred forty-five pounds.” Ram’s gaze flicked over her. “You’ve lost weight. I’m guessing twenty pounds.”

  Rhia squirmed at his blatant appraisal. He sure knew his dimensions. She was five-three and a quarter inches, not five four and she had lost weight. Twenty-three pounds to be exact.

  “And now for the question of the hour, how old is she really...” He paused theatrically. “Well now Rhia, if I may call you that, you do have a pattern of untruthfulness with the DMV. Either you lied about your birth date or you’re too young to be reading that sex manual. You won’t be forty for another eleven months. Now, you’ll have to start your research all over again. Something more like ‘great sex for the almost forty-year-old with an incredibly sexy younger man’. Whadda ya think?” He asked, wiggling both eyebrows at her.

  “I think,” she said emphasizing every word, “that you are an idiot. Although I must be an even bigger idiot for letting you talk me into this.” Rhia answered wondering why the urge to jump his bones was as strong as the urge to knock out his almost perfect teeth.

  “Lighten up sweetheart. I notice you didn’t contradict the ‘incredibly sexy younger man’ part. Admit it Rí, you think I’m hot.”

  She stuck her tongue out at him. Not very mature, but there you have it.

  “You’ll be fulfilling that promise.”

  ...

  They stopped at a mall just across from Cardiff Castle, which looked like Disneyland for those who majored in shopping as an art form, so Rhia could purchase what Ram called ‘clubbing clothes’. He went from store to store picking things off racks, putting everything she picked out back. Once he had an armful of clothing he deemed worthy he waited until she tried on each and every item, commenting on each as she went along.

  He was unforgivably blunt. Those jeans made her “ass look bigger than it was.” Another pair left “too big a gap” at her waist. All the tanks he picked were too tight and cut too low. He liked every one of them.

  Rhia came out of the dressing room half way through and he was gone. She felt a moment of panic until the awestruck sales lady came over and said “Mr. Macleod said he’ll be back in just a second.”

  Rhia thought that it was odd that Ram had given a saleswoman his name, but she didn’t question the woman about it. What she couldn’t believe was that Ram had been that polite.

  When Rhia asked the gushing saleswoman what Ram actually said she blushed and answered, “He said, Tell her to stay put or I’ll find her and spank her lovely bottom until it matches the color of her cheeks.” The woman giggled and left. Rhia was happy to have her gone, she couldn’t stand grown women who giggled.

  Ducking back into the dressing room, Rhia picked out two of the least risqué tank tops and a pair of jeans she could actually bend over in. She also had a week’s worth of ordinary clothes to hold her over until her suit cases arrived.

  Rhia threw on her old clothes in record time and took her items to the counter to pay for them. She was just finishing when Ram walked up to the counter.

  “Hey I wanted to see the other tanks.” He grouched.

  “They were see-through. And one was slit down to my belly-button. The only thing holding it together was black mesh.”

  Ram’s smile was all male. “That’s why I wanted to see it.”

  “In another life, stud.” Rhia rolled her eyes at him, but inside she was warmed by his blatant appreciation.

  “What’s that?” She asked motioning toward the bag he carried.

  Ram shrugged. “Just something for your feet.” When Rhia started to protest he held up a hand. “Do you think I’d take you dancing in those?” He asked, pointing to her worn oxfords. They had been a lovely ox-blood when they were new. Now they were a dirty pink and scuffed beyond what even a die-hard preppy would call distressed chic. Rhia was going to burn them as soon as she got home.

  Ram grabbed her arm and gently led Rhia away from the counter. “Come on. You can put these on in the car.” Ram said abruptly. The saleswoman, Rhia noticed, had been hanging on their every word as she hovered less than a foot away pretending to be busy with receipts.

  “What an odd woman. Did you see the way she was salivating over you. God. You’d think you were some kind of movie star or something.” Rhia was almost jogging to keep up with him now as he hurried them out of the mall.

  Ram laughed, but it sounded forced. “Yeah. Weird. Let’s just get out of here.”

  They were in the Jaguar and on the road in record time.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Rebecca Stonehaven was a selfish bitch. No one knew that better than she did. She knew what she wanted and she went after it. That’s how she got to be super model at seventeen and how she stayed on top the past ten years. No one and nothing got in her way. No one denied her what she wanted either.

&nb
sp; No one, except Ramsey Macleod.

  She loved being with Ramsey. He was rich, famous, good-looking and even better in bed. He didn’t tie her up as much as she would have liked, but then nobody’s perfect and she had her extra-curricular sex to keep those needs in check.

  What made Ramsey special was that he wasn’t self-centered. He shared his wealth without complaint or regret with those around him. He’d given Becca everything she asked for, and she’d asked for plenty, including the three carat diamond studs she rarely took off.

  Then things changed.

  Ramsey wanted what he called, ‘a real family’. That meant a wife and kids. Kids. Good God. Not only didn’t she want any brats running around, Becca couldn’t stand what being pregnant would do to her body. Sure Cindy Crawford and Elle MacPherson had kids, but they were old and washed up.

  She was young and beautiful and at the top of her game. There was no room for a husband or kids. But she wanted Ramsey back. Whatever it took.

  ...

  The music pounding through her heart and the flashing lights were intoxicating enough, she didn’t need the alcohol. But Ram kept it coming.

  Rhia hadn’t drunk so much since college, and the only dancing she’d done in years had been at weddings. She’d almost forgotten how much she loved the freedom of uninhibited dancing, even if in thigh high black PVC boots.

  Dressed in her low cut sparkly tank, skin tight jeans, and the boots, she felt positively wicked. Her pearls didn’t seem quite so wholesome now.

  Ram had given her a small butterfly barrette covered in rhinestones and a giant pair of hoops studded with crystals to finish off her look. And what a look it was. It screamed gaudy-wench. Rhia loved it.