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.”
Chance knew it couldn’t be. His lawyer instincts prodded him to back her into a corner, argue until she broke down and win the case through logic. But if he did that, he would lose any hope of winning her heart.
Instead he said, “Maybe we could start over. You have no reason to be embarrassed now, because I’m not a stranger, and—”
“I didn’t agree to a debate,” she said. “This conversation is over.”
“Are you asking me to go?”
“No hard feelings, but yes.”
For one agonizing moment he held her gaze. She was so much smaller than he but equally strong willed. He’d met his match, he thought. Perhaps in more ways than one.
“I yield the point,” he said. “And, Daisy?”
“Yes?”
“Please stop ducking around corners and nearly drowning yourself to avoid me,” he said. “I’m not an ogre.”
“I’ll remember that,” she said.
Judging by the glint in her eye, Chance knew she was teasing. He just hoped that behind the teasing lay an attraction to match his own.
Chapter Three
He certainly wasn’t an ogre, Daisy thought as she closed the door behind him. He was sexy and bewitching and even a bit vulnerable.
If only she could yield to instinct and haul him into her bedroom. If only she had a heart of cast iron and could simply enjoy the moment.
But Chance had the power to hurt her badly. And eventually he’d do it, either through one big abandonment or through little betrayals over time.
In the meantime he was too forceful. Daisy had nearly backed down beneath his verbal onslaught, had nearly apologized and admitted she’d been wrong.
She didn’t want to back down. She didn’t want a man who could override her better judgment and control her actions.
In her adult life she’d been involved seriously with two men. They’d seemed different from each other on the surface, but underneath they’d been alike.
Commanding. Insistent. Wanting to take charge of her. In both cases, she’d broken things off after a nasty argument.
Maybe it was because she’d grown up without a father or even a grandfather, but in Daisy’s experience it simply wasn’t possible to negotiate with a man. There was no way to share power, only fight or flight.
She needed a low-key fellow who wouldn’t lock horns with her. So why wasn’t she attracted to a guy like that?
Daisy wandered into the kitchen and tried to concentrate on fixing dinner. She couldn’t stop thinking about Chance. The lingering scent of his aftershave drifted from the living room, as if a part of him had permeated her condo.
While using the electric opener on a can of soup, she noticed a white paperback wedged between two cookbooks on the counter. What a relief to discover where she’d stuck it! She’d been afraid a deep-lying emotional reluctance had led her to lose the book her friends had bought her, 2001 Ways to Wed.
The book worked, all right. Using it in an attempt to help Daisy, both Phoebe and Elise had fallen in love.
So far she hadn’t done more than glance through it. But if it could help her find Mr. Right, she’d be able to put Chance Foster out of her mind once and for all.
Daisy opened the book. “Okay, Jane Jasmine,” she said, as if the author were standing in front of her. “What pearls of wisdom do you have to offer me?”
Flipping through the pages, she noted and rejected some of the suggestions. She wasn’t going to meet the man of her dreams at the workplace. Sean O’Reilly, her assistant at the gallery, was a kid of twenty-two, eight years younger than she was.
Nor was she likely to find the man of her dreams next door. She’d