Read Lover in the Rough for Free Online Page B

a baby! He was very patient and gentle about it, more so than I deserved.”
    Tim looked dubiously at the man who had efficiently, ruthlessly reduced a large meaty drunk to a sober mound of hamburger. “ ‘Gentle,’ you say. ‘Patient.’ Yeah, sure. Glad I didn’t meet anyone as gentle and patient as Chance while I was working my way through school tending bars.”
    “That where you learned about blackjacks?” asked Chance.
    “Yeah.”
    “Some bartenders prefer a gun.”
    “A blackjack is more selective,” said Tim dryly.
    Chance nodded, approving of the younger man. He glanced at Reba. “Is he yours, chaton ?”
    The question was so soft, so unexpected, that it took a moment for Reba to realize its meaning. “Tim? Mine? Good God, no! He has a wonderful wife.”
    Chance turned and held out his hand to Tim. “Glad to meet you, Tim. And bloody glad you’re married.”
    Tim laughed abruptly. “So am I. I’d hate to get between you and something you want.”
    “Tim!” said Reba, shocked at Tim’s blunt assessment of Chance Walker.
    “That’s all right,” said Chance. “I like a man who’s smart enough to come in out of the rain.”
    Tim grinned and shook Chance’s hand. “Glad to meet you, Chance. You’re the first man I’ve seen who might give my hardheaded boss a run for her money. Bonne chance ,” he said, mangling the French words almost beyond recognition. At the pained look on Reba’s face, Tim translated quickly, “Good luck.” He hesitated. “Did I just make a bilingual pun?”
    “No. My brother was the one called Luck.” Chance’s face was serious, his silver-green eyes narrowed against memories that didn’t please him.
    “Was?” asked Tim.
    Chance said no more. Tim didn’t ask again. There was something about Chance Walker that flatly discouraged questions.
    The buzzer sounded. Tim looked through the shop and saw a petite, red-haired woman waiting patiently at the front door. He hurried forward, grinning like a kid.
    “His wife?” asked Chance as Tim left.
    “Yes. Gina’s a gem,” said Reba. “She only has one failing,” added Reba wryly. “She makes every other woman around her look like a three-legged giraffe.”
    In two gliding strides, Chance was so close to Reba that she could feel the warmth radiating from his body. “Not every woman,” he said, smiling.
    Reba looked up at him, remembering the moment she had been wrapped in his arms and his male heat had made her want to melt and run like gold in a jeweler’s crucible. The feeling had haunted her at unexpected moments, sending sensations through her that made her quiver invisibly, as though fine wires were tightening deep inside her body.
    She had never felt like that in a man’s arms before. She had married a man interested only in virginal responses. After the first few weeks of marriage, her husband’s embraces had become infrequent, almost indifferent. Since her divorce she had dated many men but found none whom she trusted enough to respond to physically. She had begun to wonder if there were something wrong with her . . . until a single kiss from a stranger taught her more about being a woman than years of marriage had.
    And for the life of her, she couldn’t figure out why she responded so intensely to Chance Walker. She’d dated more handsome men, men with more wealth, more social grace and position, but it was only this rough stranger whose kiss had gone beyond her polished exterior to tap the molten core of woman beneath.
    “What are you thinking?” Chance asked, watching the play of expressions across her face as he gently eased his fingers into her hair, caressing her cheeks with his hard palms.
    Sensations shivered through her, making her breath catch. She considered evading his question with half-truths or simple silence. Then she decided that Chance Walker would hardly be shocked by anything she said or did. He was obviously a man who had seen and done it all. Several times.
    “I was