over her? Sternly she reminded herself that he possessed no power that she didn’t grant him.
Yet, despite her resolve to the contrary, she let him escort her all the way to unit 2E.
AFTER SEEING SO MANY devastated marriages, Chance had set very high standards for the woman he would someday wed, and, since college, no one had come close to meeting them. Certainly he was better off not getting involved with someone as unpredictable as Deirdre.
Yet his feelings refused to yield to logic. Her mercurial quality made her all the more fascinating, and the way she nestled within the circle of his arm inspired a longing to protect her.
From his greater height, he studied Daisy’s well-defined nose and thick lashes. Were her eyes really as green as he remembered? When she opened her condo and turned toward him, he saw that they were.
“Thanks,” she said.
“That’s it?” He couldn’t believe she meant to leave him standing there.
“You want to dry your watch and make sure it works?” she asked.
“Of course it works. It’s water resistant,” he said. “That isn’t the point. Either you’re trying to duck the issue or you want to have a highly personal conversation right here in the hallway. Given the nosiness of your neighbors, I would advise against it.”
A panicky expression crossed her face. It made Chance feel like an ogre for twisting her arm, but darn it, he wasn’t going to let Deirdre escape again. Whatever she was hiding needed to come out in the open.
At least now he knew she wasn’t married. Or an escaped felon. Or any of the other unlikely possibilities that had occurred to him.
“Come on.” He made the decision for her, escorting her inside and closing the door behind them. “Let’s get this over with.”
“That sounds…threatening.”
“Absolutely not,” he said. “I just want to clear the air.”
She took a deep breath. “Okay,” she said, then hesitated, as if thinking things over.
The condo surprised him, when Chance allowed himself to look around. Subconsciously he’d expected to find it flowery and old-fashioned, with a few stuffed animals or dolls tucked among ruffled pillows.
Instead it was subtle with a couple of key focal points. His attention fixed first on a red, orange and pink blanket woven in a jagged design, draped across the back of the off-white couch. Then he noticed, in an opposing corner, a large ceramic planter with a band of molten red against a multitextured blue-gray surface.
Everything else in the room flowed in muted colors and shapes. Chairs, lamps, draperies, all had been selected with a discerning taste.
“Who did your decorating?” He wouldn’t mind hiring the same designer to complete the interior of his house.
“I did.” Nibbling at her lower lip, Daisy edged toward the kitchen. “Would you like coffee?”
“No, but help yourself, if it’ll warm you,” he said. “Better yet, get dressed.”
“I’m not cold.”
“I insist.”
“Are you going to supervise to make sure I put on something warm enough?” Dismay at the implication made her eyes fly open. Definitely green.
“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.