Kiss A Handsome Stranger

“Would you like me to?” Chance hadn’t expected the conversation to take such a flirtatious turn, but he didn’t object. “After your antics at the pool, I’d say a little guidance wouldn’t be amiss.”

“Guidance?” She drew the towel tightly around herself. It failed to hide her slim legs or the graceful curve of her neck. “I’m not your little sister.”

“I’m aware of that.”

“Back off.” Her toes curled inside her thong sandals. “I don’t need anyone taking charge of me.”

“All I want is information,” he said. “Why did you bail out on me that night?”

“You know, on second thought you’re right. I’d better put on warm clothes.” Like a will-o’-the-wisp, she vanished into the bedroom, leaving Chance gritting his teeth in frustration.

DAISY STRUGGLED to peel the damp suit from her goose-bumpy flesh. It didn’t help to know that the best-looking man she’d ever met was waiting in the next room and that, by all indications, she had only to summon him and he’d come to undress her, inch by quivering inch.

Undress her and how many other women in the next few days and nights?

She couldn’t tear from her mind the image of him standing in the sunshine, holding that blond woman outside the restaurant. Gazing into her pouty face. Surrounding her with his strength, just as he’d done a few minutes ago to Daisy.

It was unfair that a man should possess such tenderness, such endearing manners—and such a complete lack of faithfulness.

Daisy wasn’t usually a sucker for a ladies’ man. She’d seen how her mother struggled to bring up a child alone, and her heart still bore the scars inflicted by an absentee father.

But there was something different about Chance Foster, a genuine quality that sneaked past her defenses. Should she be honest with him about why she’d left and risk letting him persuade her to try again?

Still debating, Daisy put on a long, hand-dyed dashiki her mother had made and went into the bathroom. She dragged a brush through her hair and stared at herself in the mirror.

Her skin looked more flushed than usual, probably from the sun, or could it be the result of her hormone pills? The doctor had changed her prescription a few months earlier, and she’d been suffering minor side effects.

The reminder of her medical condition threw cold water on temptation. A man like Chance Foster, attractive and successful and popular, would never have the patience to put up with her problems.

The doctor had said she might not be able to have a baby at all. The golden boy of Phoenix wasn’t very likely to choose a wife who couldn’t provide him with suitably golden offspring, was he? Even assuming, and it was a huge long shot, that he ever developed serious intentions toward Daisy.

Perhaps other women could afford to risk their hearts on him. She couldn’t. She needed a kind and undemanding family man who was at no risk of dragging her emotions onto a roller coaster the way her father had done.

No matter how much she wanted to hold Chance Foster one more time, she couldn’t afford to.

Squaring her shoulders, Daisy went to face him.

CHANCE COULDN’T FIGURE OUT why it took a woman so long to throw on a few clothes. On the other hand, he enjoyed knowing that Daisy cared enough about him to take pains with her appearance.

He appreciated women who groomed themselves well. And he knew a lot of them. Chance had heard that other men envied the way he showed up at charity and social events with one beauty after another.

What they didn’t know was that most of the ladies were platonic friends. Few men took the time to listen or to share big brotherly advice, and he’d discovered that women were hungry for uncritical companionship.

He was no monk, of course. There’d been a few lovers during the ten years since he finished law school, when his fiancée broke off their engagement to pursue her dream of a high-powered career.

It was a dream Chance had once shared, but he was a realist about his circumstances. Most of the time, anyway.

He didn’t regret that none of his later relationships had resulted in marriage. The women had been wrong for him, and not ready for marriage, either, in his view.

As a divorce attorney, he’d learned to identify the danger signs. Unrealistic expectations. Financial irresponsibility. Unwillingness to discuss differences of opinion.

Chance had long ago discarded the romantic notion that love was the essential ingredient in marriage, because he’d seen how quickly it could fade under adversity. He knew the keys were mutual respect and compatibility, not head-over-heels passion.

At least he’d thought so until he met Deirdre. He couldn’t explain what had hit him. Heaven knew he’d spent two months trying to talk himself out of his burning desire to see her again, without success.

With Deirdre he felt a new kind of connection. He wanted to linger in her arms, to listen to her breathing, to hear her laughter. When he’d awakened the morning after they’d made love and found her gone, the house had echoed with emptiness.

Chance was flipping through an art magazine, wondering if this was where she got her decorating ideas, when Daisy came out wearing an African-style dress whose soft fabric molded to the contours of her body. The dress was neither stylish nor glamorous, but on her, highly appealing.

“Feeling better?” he asked.

Her reddish-brown hair bobbed as she nodded. It reminded him of the woman he’d seen this afternoon.

“You don’t happen to work at an art gallery, do you?” he said.

“I own one.” Daisy led the way into the kitchen, where she poured herself coffee from a carafe and stuck it in the microwave to reheat. “Native Art, downtown.”

“No wonder you did such a great job of selecting your furnishings.” He made a mental note to visit her gallery. Often. “So you work one block from my office. I haven’t been imagining things.”

“You mean you saw that oddball woman ducking into alleys whenever you walked by?” Daisy shrugged. “That was me.”

“Care to provide an explanation?” he said. “Or do you behave this way with all your lovers?”

She snatched the coffee mug from the microwave, and for a moment he feared she was going to throw it at him. “That was uncalled for.”

“A low blow,” he agreed. “I’m sorry. I’m also still awaiting your answer about why you left that night.”

“I left because I don’t think we’re suited to each other,” she said. “And I was embarrassed. It isn’t my custom to go to bed with strangers.”

“That doesn’t explain why you couldn’t wait until morning to tell me. I thought I’d done something to offend you. You owe me an apology and a lot better reason than you’ve given.”

Chance knew he was pressuring her. Had she been a casual friend, he would have backed off and listened sympathetically. But he had no intention of behaving that way with Daisy.

She’d hurt him, and it was going to hurt him even more if he couldn’t make her change her mind. He wanted more of the excitement that had been missing from his relationships since college. He wanted another chance with this woman.

Daisy sniffed at the coffee and set the cup down without tasting it. “You’re right, it was cowardly. I’m sorry. You have every right to be angry. So I guess you don’t want to see me again, and that’s the end of it.”

“Wrong,” he said.

“You can’t possibly expect—I mean, this is all mixed up. My coffee doesn’t even smell appetizing. I must be really wired.” She paced into the living room. “We should never have—done what we did. What would your sister say? And Phoebe?”

“I can’t imagine why they should object,” Chance returned.

“Oh, they won’t. They’ll fuss. They’ll cheer us on. They’ll shove us together at every possible opportunity,” Daisy said. “They’ll drive us both crazy.”

“So you’re rejecting me because I’m Elise’s brother? And because my sister would approve of our getting involved? That doesn’t make sense.”

Daisy took a stance on the pale carpet. “I answered your question about why I left you. I knew we were wrong for each other, and I was embarrassed. That’s the whole story.”