The Chance. Робин КаррЧитать онлайн книгу.
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