hadn’t stopped to think that her presence made no sense. The wealthy granddaughter of one of California’s biggest and most generous philanthropists might raise money for victims of war-torn countries, but she didn’t travel to war-torn countries.
She certainly wouldn’t have belonged in a crowded field hospital where understaffed doctors and nurses did their best to care for those injured in the series of bombings.
But he’d been so sure of her presence that he’d nearly gotten in a fight with one of the doctors once he reached semiconsciousness, unable to understand why the man refused to let him see Alexa. Why he was keeping her away when she’d been right there?
Later, as the uncertainty clouding his mind started to clear, he realized it had all been some kind of delusion. He’d been embarrassed to have been so fooled by his own mind. Unsettled that a woman he barely knew—a woman he’d spent no more than a weekend with and one who wanted nothing more to do with him—had been the person he’d reached for, clung to, even in such a confused state.
And so even though he’d thought of calling since he’d returned to the States, he’d purposely not picked up the phone.
Now, as the color drained from her face, he wished he had.
She looked as beautiful and ethereal now as the night they’d met. That night, she’d been wrapped in gold, her blond hair intricately woven on top of her head, her smooth bangs held in place by the jeweled butterfly hairpin. Today, she was draped in silver, her shoulder-length hair caught more sedately in a ponytail at her nape. As he watched, she hugged her arms around her waist, her blue-gray eyes huge in her gorgeous face.
“Chance—” his sister’s expression brightened as she caught sight of him “—come meet two of our guests. Alexa Mayhew, Griffin James, this is my brother, Chance McClaren.”
He didn’t remember moving, but he suddenly stood in front of Alexa, inches away from the woman who’d been on his mind and under his skin for months. “Alexa...”
“Chance.”
She reached out, her hand hovering in the air between them as if she wasn’t quite sure that he was truly there, and his heart clenched. The uncertainty in her expression hit hard as he grasped her hand in his. The soft skin, the sweet scent, all of it real this time.
“Alexa,” he said again, a whisper of sound beneath his breath.
“Chance. I—It’s...” Her throat worked as she swallowed. “So good to meet you.”
Meet him? Meet him! She’d done a damn sight more than met him in a hotel room in Santa Barbara almost four months ago.
Shock held him motionless, Alexa’s hand still in his, until the man at her side spoke. “If you’ll excuse us. Alexa isn’t feeling well.”
The man—Chance couldn’t even recall what his sister said the guy’s name was—had a protective arm wrapped around Alexa’s shoulders. Chance had barely spared him a glance earlier, but summed him up now with a quick look. Wealthy, sophisticated, handsome. Someone very much a part of Alexa’s world.
The swift slice cut deep, but Chance had endured worse pain. That was one lesson he could thank Lisette for. Finding his fiancée in bed with another man had cured him of any belief in love, marriage, or even whatever the hell it was he thought he and Alexa had found in a five-star hotel penthouse suite.
But cured or not, he couldn’t help taking a few shots of his own. “You look so...familiar. Are you sure we haven’t met somewhere before?”
“I, uh, don’t think so.”
“No? So we didn’t meet—I don’t know, parasailing along the Waterfront? Or maybe bungee jumping off the Bridge to Nowhere?” Chance wouldn’t have thought it possible, but Alexa turned even paler, and he really started to feel like an ass. He stopped himself before he mentioned her last whispered wish.
Making love under the stars.
“Alexa is hardly the type to go bungee jumping,” the golden boy at her side said drily.
“Maybe someday she’ll have the opportunity to take that chance.”
Her turbulent blue-gray eyes met his. Their gazes lingered, clung, like they had that night in Santa Barbara.
Come on, Lexi, he’d whispered, take a chance.
And she had. For a weekend. And no, they hadn’t had time to fulfill her wild and thoroughly facetious bucket list wishes of parasailing or bungee jumping. But he’d flown high enough and fallen hard enough that for a moment he thought he could have died happily in her arms...
But it was just a moment. One weekend, and Chance had never met a woman that he couldn’t forget once he moved on. Maybe that was the problem. Ever since the explosion, he hadn’t been moving. Not on to a new job, not on to a new assignment, not on to a new country across the world. He was stuck. And like some kind of shark, if he didn’t keep in constant motion, he couldn’t breathe.
That was the only reason why his chest hurt as he gazed at Alexa.
The man by her side glanced between them before murmuring, “Something tells me that’s not happening anytime soon.”
Chance opened his mouth to argue like the fool he was when his cousin, Evie McClaren, spotted the group from across the lobby. “Chance, there you are. I’ve been looking for you.”
“If you’ll excuse us,” Alexa murmured to Rory.
“Oh, of course. We can finish the tour later.”
“Thank you for taking your time with us this afternoon.”
Always so polite, always so damn proper, Chance thought with a twist of a smile that had Alexa’s elegant head lifting to an even higher angle when she caught sight of it. “Mr. McClaren.”
“Ms. Mayhew... It’s been a pleasure.”
He drew out the word long enough for a riot of color to storm her cheeks before she turned away. Her golden boy kept his arm around her shoulders as he turned her toward the hallway leading to... Her room? His room? Theirs?
Chance shoved his hands in his pockets, fists clenched tight enough that the hairpin gouged into his palm. He didn’t care about women—any one woman—enough to be jealous. Not anymore.
“Chance? Hello, Chance?”
His cousin waved a hand in front of his face to capture his attention. “Your doctor’s office called about moving your therapy appointment.” She gave him a stern look. “They said they tried your cell, but you weren’t answering.”
“Oh, Chance.” Rory frowned at him, her blue eyes so similar to his own darkening in concern. “You really should have your phone with you especially when you go out by yourself.”
Chance sighed. “Yes, Mom.”
His cousin’s arch expression wasn’t nearly as concerned as his sister’s. “Not your mom. Also not your secretary. Answer your own darn phone calls.”
“Yes,
