be with someone,” she finished for him, knowing she risked becoming only another of his meaningless hook-ups if she let this continue. But she couldn’t—wouldn’t—let the chance go by, consequences be damned. “You need to feel alive, Chase, and I need that, too. Whatever happens from this point forward, nothing will change between us. We’ll still be friends and no one will have to know.”
“But I’ll know, Jess. And I can’t give you—”
Jess pressed a fingertip against his lips to silence him. “You’ve given me more than you know.” She lifted her finger and pressed her lips against his. “Now no more talk.” She took his hand and slid it beneath the robe’s opening above her breasts. “Just touch.”
That seemed to unleash something in Chase, something uncontrolled but unbelievably sexy as he skimmed his palms down her body. Somehow she’d managed to bring them past the turn-back point, but she honestly didn’t care. She only cared about the prospect of being with him completely.
Maybe this was the reason she’d held back committing to Dalton. Maybe subconsciously she’d always loved Chase a little more than she’d cared to admit. More than the way he loved her as a friend.
Regardless, this could be the last opportunity to know what she’d been missing. The last chance to explore the feelings for Chase that had suddenly surfaced. Possibly the last time she ever saw him again.
She’d been caught between two men for years—the one who treated her like a queen, and the one who’d viewed her as only a best friend. The one who could give her the world, and the other who could only give her this one night.
She wanted this one night…even if it proved to be a life-altering mistake.
CHAPTER ONE
Placid, Mississippi
Ten years later
THERE HAD TO BE SOME MISTAKE.
As he pulled out of the sheriff’s station parking lot, Chase Reed requested the dispatcher repeat the address one more time.
1101 Oakwood Lane.
No mistake, and no time to waste.
Chase flipped on his emergency lights and siren as he sped through downtown, concerned over what he might be facing when he arrived at his destination on the outskirts of Placid—the recently-divorced Jessica Keller Wainwright’s home. He only knew that a domestic dispute call had been placed by a hysterical woman and an ambulance had been dispatched. He didn’t know who had been injured or how. One thing was certain. If Dalton Wainwright had laid a finger on Jess, he’d kill him.
In the six months since he’d returned to Placid, he’d only spoken to Jess once by phone, a tense conversation that involved generalities—her new job teaching second grade, his new job as deputy sheriff and briefly about her divorce, like they were only acquaintances. Even though they’d corresponded through the years, they’d never talked about the night before he left for his first tour of duty.
He hated that he’d obviously hurt her with his careless behavior. Hated that she’d run off and married Wainwright two weeks later. Hated that he’d somehow driven her to that decision and in turn, set a course that had ultimately led to this moment.
Chase’s mind continued to reel with the possibilities as he whipped into the lengthy drive leading to the massive redbrick mansion. He barely had the car stopped before he slid out of the driver’s side and his feet hit the pavement. A gust of unseasonably cold, bitter wind sent a spiral of leaves across the stone walkway as he strode past the for sale sign toward the planked porch. The white holiday lights hanging from the eaves and the huge artificial Christmas tree filling the entry window gave the appearance of normalcy. But when he found the front door partially ajar, he prepared for anything but a normal situation.
Chase poised his hand on the Glock holstered at his hip as he moved into the foyer, an automatic reaction resulting from hour upon hour of military training. But in this instance, he wasn’t the soldier navigating war-torn territory. He was the deputy sheriff doing his duty no matter what he might encounter.
Senses on high alert, he cocked his head to listen as he walked past the ornate staircase and down the tiled corridor. The sound of harsh sobs caused him to quicken his pace, his heart keeping an equally rapid tempo. The minute he entered the great room, he pulled up short to survey the scene.
To his left, Jess sat on the floor, her back to a white leather sofa, hugging her knees to her chest as she rocked back and forth like a lost child. Chase instinctively started toward her until something caught his immediate attention from the corner of his eye. He turned to see a figure crumpled near the stone hearth—only to discover it was Dalton Wainwright.
When he noticed the blood pooling around Dalton’s head, images of war zipped through Chase’s brain. Fallen comrades, chaos and confusion. Death and destruction. A fatal error he’d made that couldn’t be rectified…
Chase again forced the memories away as he walked to his long-time nemesis, crouched down, pressed his fingertips against Dalton’s neck and fortunately for Jess, found a pulse.
“He’s dead, isn’t he?” she asked in a tone strangely absent of emotion.
“He’s alive but unconscious,” he assured her, although right then he wasn’t sure of anything.
When he heard the wail of sirens, Chase immediately went to Jess, knelt and took her by the shoulders. “Are you okay?” he asked, even though he could tell she wasn’t from the undeniable shock in her eyes.
“It was an accident,” she muttered as her gaze slid away. “No one’s fault.”
Chase couldn’t imagine Jess would intentionally injure her ex-husband, but he wasn’t fool enough to deny anything was possible when it came to volatile relationships. “Look at me, Jess.” Once he finally had her attention, he added, “When the paramedics get here, don’t say anything about what happened.”
“But I didn’t mean—”
“Don’t talk about it,” he cautioned again. “You have to remember who you’re dealing with here, even if it was an accident.”
Realization dawned in her expression. “Edwin,” she said in a whisper.
“Yeah. Your ex-father-in-law could make this tough on you. And anything you tell me could be used against you in court if it comes to that.”
Her eyes went wide with terror. “Court?”
Before Chase had a chance to reassure her, the sound of gurney wheels echoing through the foyer interrupted his train of thought. He straightened and met the EMTs as soon as they entered the room. “He’s still alive,” he told a fifty-something paramedic named Joe. “But it looks like he has a pretty serious head injury.”
“We’ll take it from here,” Joe said before he and his partner went to work on Dalton.
Chase helped Jess to her feet and guided her down the hall to the formal dining room he found nearby. After he had her seated in a chair at the polished mahogany table, he asked, “Where’s your son?”
“Upstairs.”
Chase
