Chance Encounter

heated intensity, the passion, the longed-for affection…everything she could ever want was there.

Yet it wasn’t real.

“Ally-”

“I hear sirens,” she said, taking a step back out of his warm embrace, afraid to let him finish. She knew what she wanted him to say, but not like this. Not in the heat of the moment, surrounded by chaos. Not when it couldn’t last.

The paramedic and rescue unit arrived, as well as the sheriff, who cited the other driver for reckless driving. Chance was momentarily distracted by the paramedics wanting to treat a few nasty scratches. Then the rescue unit needed a report. Arrangements were made for the Jeep to be hauled back up, and finally, finally, the road was cleared and they were free to go.

“Ally.” Chance stopped her as she would have gotten into Jo’s car, and cupped her cheek in his hand. “You’re really okay?”

“Fine.” She sank into the car and tried not to give in to the tears she’d been fighting for an hour now.

He followed her in, clearly wondering what was wrong, but she avoided his direct gaze. She had to, or she’d lose it. For so long she’d wanted to see that look in his eyes, had hoped and dreamed for it. Now, in this situation, an emergency, with adrenaline flowing, and thrills aplenty, she had it.

And it wouldn’t-couldn’t-last.

Soon enough, he’d go back to looking at her as if she was a problem he didn’t know what to do with. A problem he wanted to go away. He sat right next to her in Jo’s little car, pressing his big body close to hers. She could feel the heat and strength of him, could feel his gaze like a caress.

“It was you,” he murmured. “You saved me.”

“No.” God, not his gratitude on top of everything else. That would make it all the harder to bear. “You would have made it without me.” Above all else, he was a survivor.

He stroked her jaw, then turned her to face him, his eyes both fierce and tender. “You got 911 called, you said my name over and over, you kept me alert so I didn’t let go. You were the one, Ally.” He reached for her hands, bringing them up to his mouth, gently kissing the scrapes on her knuckles. Then he hauled her close, until she was tucked up against him, holding her as if she were his entire world.

He was trembling, and she stroked her hands up and down his back. “It’s okay,” she murmured. “You’re fine now.”

A rough laugh escaped him, and he squeezed her tighter. “Do you think I care about me? It’s you, Ally. It’s always been you.”

“I’m fine,” she whispered.

“I’m glad you’re fine,” he told her. “But I’m a wreck, so hold me, Ms. Fine, and don’t let go.”

Temporary, she reminded herself ruthlessly. He would only feel this way temporarily.

But at the moment, locked against his hard, warm body, she allowed herself to pretend it could last forever.

JO DROVE TO ALLY’S cabin first, which was a huge relief to Ally, who needed to be alone to regroup. To think. And maybe to wallow, just for a moment.

But Chance got out with her.

“What are you doing?” She sounded panicked, but she needed to be by herself. If he so much as touched her again, if he looked at her with that look, the one that told her things he didn’t mean for her to know, she’d melt. She’d beg him to hold her again and never let go, to make it real.

He’d get the holding part right, oh he most definitely would. And she’d be lost.

“You should go to your cabin and clean up,” she insisted, practically shoving him back into Jo’s car.

“I want to clean up, but-” He bent to say something to Jo and Brian, something she couldn’t hear.

Jo glanced up at Ally, then nodded. Revving the engine, she drove away.

And left him standing there next to her.

The rain continued to come down, but they were already drenched. Chance was staring at her while she stared at the ground. She could feel his gaze caressing her hair, her face. Then she felt his hand skim her back, so softly it nearly made her cry.

“Remember what you wanted to do before that branch blocked our path?” he asked.

She’d wanted to talk. And she’d nearly goaded him into it, just as she’d goaded him into everything they’d ever done together. Pathetic.

“Do you remember?” he asked again, sounding unusually solemn.

“We were going to the store.”

He let out a sound of frustration. “You wanted to talk.”

“That was then.” Now all she wanted was a pity party, and she was damn entitled. When she was done feeling sorry for herself, she planned to dry herself off and get on with her life. Her heart was broken, but she’d survive.

She always did.

“I think talking is a good idea.”

He didn’t look as if he thought so. He looked as if he’d offered to face the guillotine. “Your timing is off,” she informed him as if she were bored, but he simply slipped an arm around her waist and pulled her into the curve of his body, sheltering her from the rain.

“What are you afraid of?” he asked, mocking her own earlier words.

You. “I just don’t feel like talking, Chance.”

“Well I do,” he said simply, and propelled her inside, out of the rain.

14

FRESH FROM HER SHOWER, Ally paced the kitchen, ignoring the hot chocolate Chance had made her. From the bathroom she could hear the shower running. Then it abruptly turned off.

Chance was in there. Standing in her shower, water streaming down his leanly muscled body. A body that was tough. Hot to the touch. Gorgeous.

And naked.

His hair would be in spikes around his head. He’d probably just shove his fingers through it, as he seemed to do most of the time. His eyes would be tired, his voice deep and husky from the exhaustion of the day. He needed sleep, and she thought maybe he intended to do that here.

If only he knew how she’d fallen so stupidly in love with him, he’d be running for the hills.

As she’d told him, she’d changed.

Actually, both of them had. Where he’d once been unwilling to let anyone into his fiercely guarded, loner heart, he’d opened up and let Brian in. He’d opened up for her as well, as much as he could. That it wasn’t enough for her wasn’t his fault.

Which meant it was time for her to be running for the hills. Or at least for San Francisco.

He’d built a fire, probably to comfort and warm her, but each time it crackled and sizzled she jumped. She left the small kitchen for the living room, hoping the warmth would penetrate her chill.

Chance stood in the doorway, his face dark and pensive. He hadn’t bothered to dry his hair and he smelled like her shampoo. When he saw her, he smiled but she noted the tightness of his shoulders and the grimness in his gaze. He was worried, which startled her. She’d seen him in good humor, and in bad. She’d seen him in the throes of passion, and in a foul temper. She’d seen him sad, and also afraid. But never worried.

“I needed you today,” he said. “I needed you…and you were there.”

She knew all too well this was a problem for him. He made it a point to never need anyone.