The Chance
“He didn’t mention...”
“I guess you can’t know everything about each other after one date,” Gina said with a shrug.
“Having a daughter would seem real high on the list,” Laine said. And then she felt the color come back to her face with a vengeance and she thought, What the hell? I’m an experienced undercover investigator! I don’t go pale, don’t flush, don’t allow personal emotions to dominate my behavior or responses. But she said, “You and Eric?”
“Getting along better than I expected we would. I located him and met with him to get some medical history from his side of the family, a purely practical thing. It was Ashley’s decision to meet him and at first it made me very nervous, very paranoid, but it’s worked out well for both of them, I think. He’s changed a lot in seventeen years. But then, so have I.”
But for Laine, there was a red flag. Having children, having a child, being a parent—even a recent or part-time parent—would seem to be one of the most obvious things to mention, maybe right after what you did for a living. How had they spent almost four hours together without that subject coming up? Concealment? Because hiding information was one of the first signs something was wrong.
Is that so, Agent Carrington? she chided herself. But wait, wasn’t her situation a matter of public safety? National security? Almost?
But she said to Gina, “It seems to have worked out, then.”
“Don’t let this get under your skin, Laine. I’m a very happy woman. Mac seems to respect Eric. And Mac isn’t easy. I’m sure when you bring this up to Eric, he’ll give you the whole story. He’s a very nice guy. Now.”
“He wasn’t then?”
“I don’t know, that’s a tough one. He was nice to me, but he was such a typical nineteen-year-old—shiftless, irresponsible, egocentric. And I was a completely typical teenage girl—love was more important than common sense. It’s a terrible trap—but I do believe we’ve outgrown those tendencies. Look, we all have baggage. Don’t we?”
“Sure,” she said. However, Laine believed she could keep the heaviest of her baggage to herself for a long time. And it wasn’t all about her work with the FBI. “But you know what? The best way to take care of this is to take care of this.” She stood up. “What do I owe you for the cocoa?”
“On the house. Don’t draw blood. I forgave him a long time ago and I think he’s forgiven me for keeping Ashley to myself.”
“I won’t hurt him,” she said with a weak smile. Then she got out of the diner before she thought about it any further.
She jogged down the block, hood up and covering her head, and went straight for the station. There were a couple of cars at the pumps being taken care of by a teenager. Inside the garage, she could see someone under the hood of a car. He had long legs she recognized, although now he was wearing a coverall of some kind.
“Eric?”
He peeked out. First he smiled, then he frowned in concern. “Laine, you’re all wet....”
She stepped toward him. “I just met Ashley in the diner. You didn’t mention her.”
He grabbed a rag and wiped his hands. “I meant to, but we were talking about other things.” He grinned at her. “Obviously I can’t keep her a secret. The hair, the eyes—she’s either a clone or mine. Isn’t she beautiful?”
Laine nodded but felt numb.
“She’s beautiful inside, too. Just an awesome kid. Gina and her mother really worked their magic raising her.”
“It makes me wonder, though, what other important things you might be waiting to tell me. Because I like the really major stuff up front. I don’t want to get involved and then find out there are issues like having a family that wasn’t even mentioned.”
Eric frowned as if in thought. He was quiet for a moment. Then he took a deep breath and spoke. “There’s no privacy for talking here, Laine. Go home, get dried off. I’ll wash my hands and come over. I’ll tell you the circumstances, you’ll ask me anything on your mind. We’ll get it all on the table. Before tonight.”
“Before tonight?” she asked, already disappointed.
“I don’t want you to waste your time. I like you. I want you to like me. But I’m not perfect by a stretch. So let’s do it.” He lifted one of those copper brows. “How’s that sound?”
It sounded like bad news was coming. But it had to be done.
“Don’t make me wait too long,” she said. Then she turned and jogged out of the garage and down the hill to her house.
* * *
Laine threw on a warm, dry sweat suit and put her chicken on to stew with a halved onion and the end of the celery stalks in the water. It was one o’clock. She put the ingredients for the Parmesan breadsticks on the counter—that would be her next project. She was determined to make her chicken and dumplings whether her encore date happened or not.
And then there was a knock at the door.
She opened it and there he stood in that blue jacket and pants. She took a breath. “I don’t mean to be like this—so suspicious of everything. Certainly a beautiful, sweet girl like Ashley is nothing to be—”
He came inside, took her elbow in a firm grip and said, “Come on, Laine. Let’s talk.” He directed her to the sofa. They sat there, facing each other. “Ashley’s one of the best things that ever happened to me. She’s letting me help her look at colleges. I shouldn’t even have that privilege—not only am I not educated, but Gina and Mac have been her parents, not me. I didn’t know about Ashley. Well, I wondered...”
“Huh?” she asked.
“I dropped out of high school at sixteen. I thought I had the world by the balls because I was making nine dollars an hour changing oil and tuning up engines. And girls—I had girls. And boy,” he said with a rueful laugh, “I thought I had all the moves, too. I thought I was so slick—God’s gift. And I was just a stupid horny kid. And Gina—she was the prettiest girl. All of fifteen, but I had no brain and it didn’t even register that she was too young. We dated, if you can call it that—it was a few fast-food meals and movies and a lot of making out. And then she said she thought she might be pregnant and I ran like my pants were on fire. I was nineteen and she was fifteen—I almost heard the cell door slam behind me. I headed out of town and didn’t look back. I found work in Idaho—more mechanics. And I found my kind of buds—the kind that worked by day and drank and partied and did some recreational drugs at night. We spent our money partying and I thought I had life figured out until I saw the flashing lights in the rearview mirror. My new buddies stopped for a case of beer and I was driving while they bought the beer because I was nineteen and they were twenty-one.”
Her eyes narrowed. She had not expected this, but she was a trained interrogator and nothing much surprised her.
“Yep. They held up the store. Took the case of beer and eighty dollars—they were such high rollers. There was a silent alarm and my buddies...? They didn’t even really have a gun, thank God, or we might’ve all been killed. One of them stuck his finger out in a sweatshirt pocket and said, ‘Hand over the cash!’ We were tried separately but I had the worst public defender, toughest judge and the longest sentence. I did five years.”
She was quiet for a long moment. “Crap,” she said before she could stop herself. She fell against the couch back and closed her eyes. She put her hand against her forehead.
“Five,” he repeated. “I don’t drink much because for five years I didn’t drink at all and while I was on parole, no drugs and no alcohol was the price of freedom. Believe me, a case of beer is never going to be that important again. I have no intention of going back to the useless imbecile I was. I cleaned up my act, learned some lessons, moved on to a better life. That’s it, Laine. I’m an ex-con. Gina, Mac, Ashley and for all I know the whole town is aware of it. I’m not trying to hide anything but I don’t advertise it. I was going to tell you tonight—I’m not trying to pull anything.”
She opened her eyes and looked at him. “Do we have anything in common?”
He shook his head. “I’m also afraid of heights,” he said. “I won’t be parasailing or rock climbing with you. I can’t even watch movies that have people fighting on the rooftops and ledges of buildings. And I’m in passable good shape but I never took karate. I never took lessons of any kind. You can probably kick my ass, too.”
“You don’t know the half of it,” she muttered. “What a mess.”
“Well, I’m sorry,” he said. “But this is all I have. I’m a mechanic who was a delinquent and had a baby I didn’t even know about. I thought about Gina and wondered, but I didn’t think she’d appreciate a letter from prison asking about her condition, so I kept my curiosity to myself. That’s it—that’s all I’ve got.” He stood up.
“Eric, I’m an FBI agent.”
He sat back down. “Jesus.”
“Yeah. Not on the job at the moment but that doesn’t change my status. I guess you’ve figured out—I’m not talking about that around town. I don’t need people looking at me funny. I’m a Fed. A fibbie. I hurt my shoulder by getting in the way of a bullet. I can kick your ass. We don’t fool around about that stuff....”
“You can’t weigh one-twenty soaking wet!”
“And I know every dirty trick,” she told him. “I can kill you with my bare hands.”
He shuddered.
“Okay, not with my bare hands, but if I had a corkscrew or hat pin, you could be history. My brother thinks I’m cool. My father thinks I’m ‘blue-collar.’”
Eric laughed in spite of himself. “He’s jealous.”
“Probably not. I’ve never quite measured up to his expectations.”
“Well, after getting arrested, going to prison and being forever an ex-con, my parents have been pretty disappointed in me, as you can imagine. We get along better these days, but they’re older than dirt and lack the energy to stay mad at me. And then there’s Ashley. My mother and sister had no idea I could actually produce something that pure, that brilliant, that beautiful.” He shrugged. “But then, neither did I. I give all the credit to Gina. If I’d had half a brain back then, I’d have let her straighten me out....”
“Do you still love her?” she asked.
He ran a hand through his thick, dark hair. “I never loved her, Laine. I was attracted to her and knew she was an awesome person, but back then I lacked the capacity for real love. She was so lucky I ran. I would’ve dragged her down.”
He stood again. “So, look—I’m sorry. I’m really sorry, I mean it. I wanted us to get to know each other a little bit. I was going to tell you tonight. I would never try to trick someone into a relationship with me. It’s all public record. I have no control over that.”
“And you’re trying to start a business in Thunder Point,” she reminded him.
He shrugged. “If I’m lucky, my new customers won’t know I’m an ex-con until they’ve gotten to know me for the guy I am now.”
“I’m stewing the chicken,” she said.
“I’m sorry for the inconvenience. I should’ve told you last night. But damn, I just couldn’t. I was having such a good time. I wanted you to like me, I did.”
She stood up. She put her hands on her hips. “Go home and shower after work and come back. I’m making my mother’s dumplings. They melt in your mouth. I bought special coffee for you and special wine for me....”
“Laine, maybe we’re better off just letting it go right—”
“I’m not supposed to get involved with persons of ill repute, so you better have turned a corner. Because damn it, I’m stewing the chicken. And it’s a wet, cold night.”
“You sure?”
“Are you?” she countered.
He grinned. “As long as you promise all hat pins and corkscrews are out of reach.”
“Six,” she said. “I’ll drop the dumplings after you get here. They’re fragile. We don’t screw with dumplings. Don’t be late.”
Five
Eric felt the impulse to run away, something he hadn’t felt in many years. He wasn’t even sure how many years. This time it was for an entirely different reason—for once he wasn’t afraid of being trapped, he was afraid Laine wouldn’t give him a chance. He was afraid she’d come to her senses. That fear was torturously coupled with his overwhelming desire for her, and his willingness to take any risk to make it happen. It was undeniable. He wanted her. It was so new and hot, he didn’t even recognize the emotions.
His last girlfriend, Cara, had not inspired these feelings in him, not at all. He’d been fond of her. More than fond, really—she was adorable. Cute and funny. When they were together, which hadn’t been too often even when they lived together, they enjoyed each other. They had good sex and he’d been tremendously grateful for that. And when she’d told him they were over, he had barely grieved. It felt a lot like saying goodbye to a friend at the train station. Like, “Good luck, be safe, stay in touch if you can, take care of yourself, I’ll be thinking of you.” Even then he knew that the thought of her wouldn’t keep him awake at night. She was a sweet girl. He’d been lucky to have two nice years with her. He was all too aware Cara had never created a fierce hunger in him. They were like roommates with privileges, excellent privileges. Eric had thought that’s what it was supposed to be like.
But now, he ached for Laine.
All through the afternoon he did what he did best—buried himself in an engine and just let his mind argue with itself. He could do the noble thing and let this relationship end before it began because it was destined to be a disaster. Well, that was if Laine wanted him as much as he wanted her. She was the law, he was the reformed criminal. She came from an educated, mucky-muck Boston family. He came from a lower-middle-class background in which only his brother-in-law had attended college. She wanted to soar from great heights, he liked his feet firmly planted on the ground. And yet he was drawn to her like a moth to a flame.
Eric’s instincts told him it was a dangerous prospect to want someone with the kind of hunger he felt for Laine. It couldn’t work. He tried like bloody hell to turn back, to call her and say, “Look, let’s not be stupid here, we are not going to last through the weekend and we both know it. Let’s cut our losses.”
Instead, he asked Manny to keep the station open for Saturday evening, asked Norm to open Sunday morning, asked Justin to work with Norm.
“My mom usually needs me Sunday mornings. I have to take her to church,” Justin said.
Eric grinned. “You? Church?”
“My mother, church. Didn’t you hear me?”
“Jeez, I just got very excited,” Eric said. “Any chance you pick up pointers while you’re taking your mother to church?”
“Yeah. I don’t pick my nose in public anymore.”
Eric frowned. “Progress,” he said. “Norm can probably handle things in the morning. I won’t be too late.”
Well, look at me, he thought to himself. Trying to talk myself into running for my life before two perfectly innocent people get hurt, but instead I get people to cover for me in the morning like I’m already invited to spend the night. If she’s half as smart as I think she is, she’ll nip this idea in the bud.
He went to his motel to shower, shave and change clothes. At exactly six, he knocked on Laine’s door. She opened the door and just looked at him for a long moment. She looked at him like she hadn’t been expecting him. Then she pulled him inside, kicked the door closed and jumped into his arms. He lifted her off the floor and went after her mouth. Everything he thought about all day long was gone. He leaned back against the closed door and held her against him; he loved that strong, muscled, supple little body in his arms. Had they said hello? They hadn’t even said hello....
He held her tight, his hand running over her butt, his lips urging hers open, his tongue penetrating... He was getting ideas, which preceded getting hard by about three seconds. Her breathing was already rapid and somewhat labored and he was dizzy. He leaned his head back, breaking the lip-lock for a second. “Whoa,” he whispered.
“Double whoa,” she said. “You smell good.”
“You smell even better,” he said.
“I lit the fire upstairs.”
“I love a woman with a plan,” he said, kissing her again. Long and wet and deep and luxurious. She was delicious. She was willing. She was his.
“I didn’t have a plan,” she said. “I didn’t know I was going to do that. I’m not sorry. Let’s just go upstairs. Huh, Eric?”
“What about those fragile dumplings...?”
“Screw the dumplings—they’ll be fine. After we’re fine...”
He slid an arm under her knees and carried her up the stairs. “We’re crazy, you know,” he pointed out to her. “No way this works....”
“This is going to work just fine,” she said, unbuttoning the top button of his shirt. Then the second. Then she had to stop because he was wearing a heavy sweater over his shirt.
“I should’ve known you were a woman who had no trouble asking for what you want.”
“If you have other ideas, you better speak up,” she said.
He stopped in the middle of the staircase. Holding her with one arm, one foot on the next rising step, he rested her bottom on his raised thigh. “All I can say is thank you.” Then he took her lips again. “I’ve been thinking about your mouth all day.”
“Just my mouth?” she said, smiling against his lips.
“If I let myself think about anything else, I might’ve had an injury. How fast can you get naked?”
“Faster than you, I bet.”
He raced up those stairs like lightning.
He put her on her bed and she was up on her knees, shoving his jacket off his shoulders, lifting his sweater by the hem, over his head. He took care of the shirt he wore, disregarding buttons and pulling it over his head. Then he pulled off her sweater and she flopped back on the bed, kicking off her pants.
There he stood in his jeans and boots, looking down at her. “Ho, boy,” he said. “You’re gorgeous. And you’re very fast.”
“Come on, Eric. I showed you mine. Show me yours.”
He sat on the bed and worked off his boots first. “Patience.”
“I don’t have that,” she informed him.
He pulled a couple of foil packages out of his pocket, tossed them on the bedside table, then slid down the jeans. He put a knee on the bed and let her have a look.
“Holy guacamole,” she said. Then she opened her arms and he filled them.
He rolled with her so they were on their sides, locked together with their lips while he slowly caressed her breasts and back and belly. When his fingers moved lower, she grabbed his wrist. “Eric, suit up. The second you touch me, I’m gone. I’ll be way ahead of you.”
He grinned at her and gave her lower lip a gentle nip. “The first time, anyway. I can catch up, no worries.”
Eric wasn’t always great at following orders; he didn’t get the condom right away, as she instructed. He’d spent all day trying not to think about this and the last few minutes praying he wouldn’t be too fast. That became a nonissue right away. He slid a slow, easy finger into her, his thumb brushing against her clitoris, and she went off like a firecracker, clenching and throbbing and drenching him in liquid heat. “God,” he said. “Beautiful. Beautiful.” And then he kept her going for a long, long time until she collapsed beside him, flat on her back, spent. He kissed her cheek. “Can you do that again?”
“I don’t know,” she whispered weakly.
“If you give me two things, I can die a happy man.”
“Name ’em,” she said, her eyes still closed.
“Let me have a little taste, then do that when I’m inside. Let me watch your eyes while I’m there. Blow my mind. Kill me. I’m on a hair trigger.”
Her eyes opened a slit, but they sparkled. Her lips curved in a smile. She opened her legs for him.
He slid down her body, stopping to make sure her peaked nipples got the attention they deserved, then he went farther. He kissed the inside of her thighs, but quickly. He was anxious. He was ravenous. He was ready to explode. He gave her a few licks with a gentle tongue, then a little rougher, thoroughly enjoying her moaning and wiggling against him.
He went back to her mouth. “More later,” he promised. “Laine, you’re the sweetest thing I’ve ever had on my tongue and I want you so bad, I think I might pass out. Tell me what you want. You can have anything you want. You own me right now.”
“Just get inside me, Eric. Before I climb on you and just take the choice away from you.”
He didn’t make her wait—he slid in slowly, luxuriated for a moment, then began to move. He grabbed her hands in one of his, stretched them over her head and moved faster, then harder, then deeper and harder. She bit his shoulder, groaned, and let him have it, throwing another climax at him. So fierce, so tight, so powerful, he let it all go with a loud moan. She was unstoppable; she was hot as lava. He came until his brain was empty and she was a limp pile of moist flesh beneath him.
“My God,” she said.
“Yeah,” he concurred in a weak breath.
He held his weight off her until he could catch his breath, then with his arms gently cradling her, he rolled them onto their sides again. He kept his mouth on hers, just pressing his lips and tongue against her lips and tongue, holding her against him for as long as he could—he didn’t want to leave her body. He thought it was very probably the best sexual experience of his life. He certainly couldn’t remember anything to compare it to. He wanted to say something emotional, intimate. Something memorable. But all he could come up with was “Are you okay?”
“No,” she said. “All my bones melted.”
He chuckled. “A-plus?”
“Don’t get full of yourself. And don’t stop trying. God, Eric. Have you always been a sex god?”
He raised up on one elbow and looked down at her. He shook his head. “I think I can honestly say, you bring out the best in me.”
“Whew. In a few minutes, I’ll think about those dumplings....”
“Screw the dumplings. I can just live on you.”
“You’ll get very thin,” she said with a smile.
“I’ll be fine. I think we need to do that again. Right away. Before we forget how that works. Damn, baby, we were very good. I think we found what we have in common.”
* * *
They made love again, then showered together and that was just another opportunity to enjoy each other’s bodies. Then they were going to dress to go downstairs to eat but were sidetracked by the bed. By the time they got to the kitchen they were weak with hunger and drunk on sex. Eric had never made love so much in one evening in his life.
They didn’t get to the dumplings until 11:00 p.m. Laine told him she thought they were probably her best ever, but the taste and texture barely registered with Eric. The only thing he could taste was Laine and he didn’t want to forget it for a second.
They sat on the floor in the great room, in front of the fire, trays on their laps, knees almost touching. While they ate, they talked. “This is a completely inappropriate question,” Laine said, “but will you tell me about all your lovers?”
“No,” he said with a laugh. “There haven’t been very many. I told you, my last girlfriend was a cute little computer nerd and we lived together for almost two years. She was special in a hundred ways, but we both knew we were temporary from the start and she dumped me last summer for someone more her type.”
“How do you know when you’re temporary?” she asked.
“You tell me, Laine. You’re not married or engaged or serious—and I can’t believe every man in America doesn’t want you for his very own. And you’re here while on leave—you’ll go back to the Bureau. You won’t work out of Thunder Point, I know that. I just refuse to think about it right now. Want to tell me about your men?”
She just shook her head. “My professional life didn’t leave a lot of room for that. I was in a few relationships, short-term, with guys whose lives were just like mine, which meant high pressure, bad hours, temporary assignments, traveling a lot. But your life is different—one business, one address, not so much uncertainty.”
“I found my love mostly in cars,” he said with a shrug. “I’m not a ladies’ man. I like women, but I was busy. Busy trying to rebuild myself. Ten years is a long time to be out of circulation.”