ALL I WANT FOR CHRISTMAS... Lovely Marcie Roper was the first woman to close her eyes to Chance's fortune. And though she'd captivated the jaded tycoon, Marcie yearned for what his wealth couldn't buy -- a man who would say "I do" and mean it forever. Could Marcie convince Chance that love -- for the right woman -- would last a lifetime?
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She was certainly different from the type of women he usually encountered. Her eyes sparked with the fire of emotion and her stance declared a very appealing independence. Yes, indeed. Marcie Roper was quite different -- a breath of fresh air. He recalled the way she felt in his arms, the taste of her delicious mouth. He fought the almost overwhelming desire to pull her into his arms and kiss her again. He watched her walk away from him -- for the second time since he first encountered her. She had turned out to be a very intriguing woman. He already knew about the golden flecks in her hazel eyes, her soft pliable lips, her addictive taste and how good she felt in his arms. And now he knew she was certainly a challenge -- and Chance had never been one to back down from a challenge.
Marcie Roper shifted the weight of her packages and cradled them in her other arm as she stared at the slinky evening gown in the store window, each sequin shimmering an iridescent peacock blue. She allowed an audible sigh of resignation as she glanced down at her faded jeans. It was certainly a beautiful gown, but she would never go any place where such a dress would be appropriate. It was just not the type of life-style she had settled into. She sighed again as she moved along to the next window displaying a red silk cocktail dress. She noted that all the store windows were already decorated for the Christmas holiday season in spite of the fact that Thanksgiving was still a couple of weeks away. A moment of sadness touched her -- even though she had friends, it would be another holiday season to be spent alone. "Hey! Wait a minute!" The shouted command grabbed her attention. She glanced down the street just in time to see a tall man -- in his mid-thirties, she guessed -- appear from around the corner. He headed in her direction at an easy, loping gait. His tanned good looks and athletic build were hard to ignore. She stepped closer to the building to clear a path for him. As he ran toward her, he shrugged out of his red windbreaker, turned it inside out to a charcoal gray color and jammed his arms back in the sleeves. He stole a quick look over his shoulder, then pulled a baseball cap from his back pocket and covered his hair. He turned back toward her and for an instant their gazes locked. Then he came to an abrupt halt. His sky-blue eyes twinkled with amusement. Her first thought had been that he was in some sort of trouble, but the mischievous grin that tugged at the corners of his mouth told a different story. He reminded her more of a little boy who was about to pull off a prank than of someone being chased by a person or persons unknown. The tall stranger stared at her for a moment before once again glancing over his shoulder. Apparently satisfied that he was sufficiently ahead of his pursuer, he sidled up beside her and put his arm around her shoulder. He positioned himself so that he faced away from the corner, and extended an engaging smile. It was the type of smile that said, "Trust me," even though the devilish twinkle in his eyes said something quite different. "I'd sure appreciate it if you could spare me just a minute or two of your time." Chance Fowler tossed a furtive glance over his shoulder just as a short, balding man came huffing and puffing around the corner. The paunchy man had a camera bag slung over his shoulder, one camera suspended from a strap around his neck and another camera in his hand. There was no doubt in Chance's mind that the man was yet another tabloid photographer in search of candid shots of the heir apparent to the Fowler family fortune and Fowler Industries. It usually annoyed him, especially if he was involved in one of his personal projects. His upbringing may have been one of wealth and privilege, but that did not make him immune to the plight of the disadvantaged. With his mother's encouragement he had decided as far back as college that he would give back to society in general what had been handed him simply as his birthright. As far as Chance was concerned, his efforts to provide disadvantaged older youth and high school dropouts with viable work skills and find opportunities for employment was no one's business but his and the people involved in his training school. He had no desire to put a spotlight on those activities or those he was trying to help. But every now and then, when he did not have any pressing matters dictating his actions, he liked to make a game of evading the photographers. And today was one of those days. "Let me go this instant!" Marcie shook off the mesmerizing sound of this stranger's smooth, dulcet tones and engaging smile. She struggled to escape the arm he had draped around her shoulder in the type of familiar manner that said they were longtime friends. Chance pulled her closer to him and touched his fingertip to her lips to still her words. "Just as soon as this photographer goes away." Marcie glanced toward the camera-laden man. Her initial surge of fear settled as she realized she was not in any physical danger from this stranger, but was quickly replaced by a flash of anger. "I'll do no such thing! You let go of me immediately or I'll call for help." She began to struggle again while trying to maintain a hold on her packages. The set of the photographer's jaw and his tight grip on his camera told Marcie of his determination to find his quarry. He looked across the street, into a side alley, then started down the sidewalk toward her and the handsome stranger who continued to hold her within the curve of his arm even though she still struggled to get free. The stranger quickly enfolded her in a complete embrace. His words tickled across her ear, the hypnotic quality of his voice lulling her into a momentary state of submission. "I was hoping we could just stand here and pretend to be window-shopping together without any fuss, but I guess we'll have to do it this way instead." Before Marcie could react, he covered her mouth with his. The photographer hurried past them without even slowing down. Shockingly aware of the heated sensuality of this stranger's kiss -- a kiss that literally took her breath away and left her weak in the knees -- Marcie barely noticed the man as he rushed down the street. She was having trouble collecting her thoughts. No one had ever kissed her like that before or totally swept her off her feet the way he just had. If it were not for the fact that he had been holding her, her legs surely would have buckled. She fought to gain control of the thousands of butterflies that flitted about inside her stomach and the increased palpitations of her heart. As soon as the danger passed, Chance started to break off the kiss, but he allowed his lips to linger against hers a second longer before pulling back. He looked into the startled, uncertain eyes of the woman in front of him, holding her gaze trapped within his for what seemed like an eternity. He was not certain what he was seeing, but he knew in an instant that he liked it. He also knew that he wanted more of this tantalizing woman. His gaze drifted across her delicately beautiful features to the lush fullness of her slightly parted lips. He wanted to kiss her again, He wanted to continue to hold her. He tried to swallow the lump that had lodged in his throat as soon as he had broken off the kiss. He wanted to kick himself for having done something so foolish as to have involved this delectable stranger in one of his little games. It had definitely been a rotten idea. It would have been better for everyone concerned if he had just let the photographer take his picture. A flustered and embarrassed Marcie quickly stumbled backward a couple of steps. She ran her fingers through her short auburn hair in a nervous attempt to smooth it away from her face as she clutched her packages against her body with her other hand. Her legs still felt wobbly, but not so much so that she could not turn and run away from this very bizarre encounter and this incredibly tempting man. And run she did, as hard and as fast as her legs would take her. It was almost as if her emotional existence depended on getting as far away from this man as quickly as possible. "Hey! Wait a minute -- "
During the course of their three encounters she had run away from him, ignored him, been rude to him, rejected his invitations and cast aspersions on his character. And still he could not tear himself away from her. He certainly was not a masochist nor was he so desperate for feminine companionship that he needed to put up with this type of treatment to spend a little bit of time with an attractive woman. There was no logical reason for him to be standing there, but somehow this woman had reached out and grabbed hold of his senses as no one else ever had. She was her own woman, not what she thought someone else wanted her to be. She had her identity intact, unlike most of the women he knew who would rather attach themselves to his. It was a very appealing aspect of who she was. She was also intelligent, beautiful, independent -- very independent. He could still feel her body enfolded in his embrace and taste her mouth pressed against his. She was everything a man could want. "Well... " She nervously shifted her weight from one foot to the other. "If you'll excuse me -- " He offered an inviting smile. "Let's go get some coffee." "That's not possible, Mr. Fowler. These are cut flowers, not plants. I need to get them back to the shop immediately and put them in the cooler." "Okay. We can get some coffee after you take care of the flowers. And please, call me Chance. Mr. Fowler is reserved for dear ol' Dad, the one and only Douglas Winston Fowler." She stiffened to attention, literally as well as figuratively. "I don't believe I'd feel comfortable calling you by some cute little nickname given to you by the press... 'Take-A-Chance Fowler,' always ready to take a chance on some new adventure... " Her words trailed off when she saw that look dart through his eyes, the same one she had seen when she had called him a playboy. Only this time it did not disappear as quickly as it had before. He looked away from her for a moment, as if collecting his thoughts, then recaptured eye contact with her. "Chance is my legal first name, given to me at birth. It was my mother's maiden name." A stab of guilt caught her up short when she saw his reaction to her words mirrored in his eyes. It was almost as if she had reached out and physically struck him. She spoke with genuine regret as she tried to apologize. "I -- I'm sorry. I didn't know." He glanced away again before saying, his voice soft, "It doesn't matter." She heard what he said, but she did not believe him. She could tell that it did matter, that it mattered very much. Without meaning to, she had hurt him and she felt bad about it. "I just assumed -- " "You seem to assume a lot." Chance had said the words without malice or anger, but he had not been able to hide the underlying vulnerability that seeped into his tone of voice. Marcie felt the pangs of guilt stab deep inside her. She knew she had been less than gracious. That was a laugh -- she had been downright rude. Something about this quick glimpse of the man beneath the facade touched an emotional place for her. It was a different place than the excitement caused by his kiss. This was a place of caring, tenderness, and concern. She took a deep breath, held it for a moment, then slowly expelled it. "You're right." The sharp edge to her voice was gone, along with her guarded attitude. "I sometimes do tend to make assumptions. It's a bad habit of mine." An additional softness caressed her next words. "I apologize for the crack about your name. It was totally uncalled for." "I'll tell you what, Marcie Roper." He reached out and ran his fingertips across her cheek, then cupped her chin in his hand. He plumbed the depths of her eyes. He saw uncertainty, wariness, and something else... a warmth and a passion that he very much wanted to tap into. He quickly allowed his hand to drop away as the temptation to kiss her grew stronger. "You can make it up to me by joining me for a drink when you get off work tonight." She glanced down at the ground, indecision churning inside her. "I -- I don't know." "Now that's what I call an improvement -- you didn't reject my invitation outright. You've left it open for discussion." He placed his fingertips underneath her chin again and gently raised her face until he could look into her eyes. "Why don't we try for the next level, where you agree to have dinner with me this evening?" "You're certainly a fast worker." A shy smile turned up the corners of her mouth. "A minute ago it was coffee, then it became a drink after work, and now it's dinner tonight." "You should have accepted my invitation at the coffee level. Now it's too late. Besides, you owe me." He saw her objection start to form, and quickly cut it off before she could give it a voice. "You owe me the opportunity to prove that your preconceived notions about me are wrong." He flashed a teasing grin. "Surely you wouldn't deny me my Constitutional right of being innocent until proven guilty... " His smile faded as he searched out her vulnerability and caressed the essence of her soul. "Would you?" |
