Her Only Chance. Cheryl Porter Anne
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Mother?”
Jamie nodded and finally remembered to breathe. Kellan Chance was walking their way. He was almost upon them…with her mother in tow. And that wasn’t all. Latched on to his arm was a stunningly beautiful woman who smiled warmly up at him.
KELL GLANCED DOWN at Melanie, who clung tiredly to his arm. Her flight from Germany, not to mention the long hours she’d spent at her husband’s bedside, had to have been exhausting, but still she smiled up at him. Kell winked at her and then met Jamie’s gaze as they approached the table where she sat with her sister. Jamie’s expression reeked of uncertainty. For his part, though, Kell could hardly look at her without wanting her. His breath caught. His chest ached. Dammit, he wasn’t the least bit over her. Still, staunchly military in his bearing, despite his civilian clothes, and revealing nothing of his inner turmoil, Kell proceeded with his greetings. “Donna, Jamie,” he said, managing a sincere smile. “It’s good to see you.” His gaze came to rest on Jamie. “You look great.”
Some naked emotion flared in her eyes but was quickly gone, leaving Kell to wonder if he’d really seen it. But if Jamie had nothing to say, Donna wasn’t stuck for words. She got up immediately and came around the table toward him, her slender arms held out. “Kellan Chance, you great big hunk of good-looking man, come here and give me a hug. Excuse me.” That last was meant for Melanie, whom she neatly sidestepped as she wrapped her arms around his neck and hugged him hard.
Held that way, Kell could only submit with a grin. When Donna finally released him, he stepped back, glanced again at Jamie, who hadn’t moved except to tightly cross her arms and legs. All Kell wanted to do was sit down and memorize very nuance of her. He wanted, needed, to feel the heat from her body, smell the scent of her skin, hear her laugh, listen to her talk. But he couldn’t. He turned to Melanie. “Donna, Jamie, I’d like you to meet Melanie Camden. Melanie, I’ve known Donna and Jamie since I was a kid back in New Orleans.”
“That he has,” Mrs. Winslow chirped, her bright-eyed gaze and forced smile betraying her underlying nervousness. “Isn’t Melanie just the prettiest thing, girls?”
“Lovely,” Donna confirmed, arching a worried look at Jamie.
Fighting a grin, Kell silently applauded Jamie’s mother’s attempt at diplomacy. No doubt, she expected the same fireworks from her daughter that he and, obviously, Donna did. “Why, before I recognized Kellan, I couldn’t help thinking, ‘What a lovely couple.’ And well, I guess they still are. Don’t you think so, Jamie? Honey?”
Along with everyone else, Kell looked expectantly at Jamie. Finally, she got up and came around the table. “Yes, Mother, they’re very lovely.” Then, offering her hand to Melanie…as if a firing squad forced her to do so…she said, “Hi. I’m Jamie Winslow.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Jamie. It’s good to meet all of you.” Melanie retrieved her hand and brushed it through her sleek brunette hair. “Kell always speaks of New Orleans and his family and friends there. And looking at y’all, I can see it’s no wonder. All that rich mahogony hair and those blue yes. How striking. Louisiana must be missing three of its sharpest beauties.”
In Kell’s opinion, this just could not get any better. The three women, like everyone else from three to ninety who met Melanie Camden, softened and sighed, succumbing to her Atlanta-debutante charm that even out-Southerned theirs. You couldn’t hate the doe-eyed Melanie if you tried. Kell knew that Jeff, her husband and a Tom Cruise look-alike, counted him as the only man he could trust with his wife—but only in broad daylight and in a crowded airport. She was that breathtaking—and that upsetting to Jamie. Kell didn’t know if he felt good or bad about that.
“Are y’all just getting in? Or are you leaving?” Melanie asked, apparently feeling a need to fill the gap in the polite conversation that none of them were making.
Jamie, Kell noticed, studiously avoided looking at him as she answered. “My mother and sister were here for my graduation. They’re leaving today.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry. Why, I bet you hate to see them go,” Melanie sympathized. “But how nice for you…your graduation, I mean. What a happy time in any family. May I ask what degree you obtained?”
“She got her doctorate in clinical psychology,” Mrs. Winslow chimed in, as if anxious for an opportunity to praise her daughter. “We’re so proud of her. She’s a doctor now.”
Kell, tired of being ignored, reached out and took her hand in his, holding it tightly…even as that familiar fire traveled up his arm. “Congratulations, Dr. Winslow.” He looked her right in the eyes. “I know how much getting your degree means to you. In fact, I recall it was more important to you to get a degree in mental health than it was to practice it yourself.”
He’d left her no choice. Jamie bristled. That was what he wanted from her…an honest response. “I don’t practice mental health? How about you? Jumped out of any perfectly fine airplanes lately? While they’re in the air, I mean.”
In light of last week’s secret and disastrous events, Kell bristled right back. “As a matter of fact, I have. Just recently I jumped out of an airplane that was only barely adequate.”
“Oh, really, Captain Marvel? No parachute, either, I suppose?” She jerked her hand, trying to get it out of his grip. But Kellan wouldn’t let go, he couldn’t let go. Jamie’s face reddened. He knew that sign—her Irish was up. And he knew what would follow. An escalation in the cold war.
“You’re so full of yourself, Kellan Chance, you probably just floated to the ground on your own ego.”
“All right now, you two, that’s enough.” The sharp intervening warning came from Jamie’s mother. “Don’t you start up in front of Melanie here. Behave.” Then she turned to Melanie. “Think nothing of them, honey. They’ve known each other practically since the cradle and just fuss all the time.”
To Kell, Melanie looked shell-shocked. Jamie finally managed to pull her hand from Kell’s and touched Melanie’s arm. “I apologize, Melanie, for my rudeness. But if you’ll excuse us, I have to get Mother and Donna to their terminal. Their plane leaves in—”
“An hour. We have plenty of time…Dr. Winslow,” Donna said, cutting Jamie off and emphasizing doctor…as if reminding her to act her profession, if not her age.
Kell’s anger left him. He’d provoked Jamie and this scene. It was up to him to end it. He gripped Melanie’s elbow. “It was nice to see all of you. But I’m sure Melanie’s luggage is downstairs at baggage claim by now. If you’ll excuse us.”
Everyone—except Jamie, Kell noticed—called out goodbyes and nice-to-have-met-yous. As he walked away with Melanie, Kell thought he could still feel Jamie’s hand in his, as well as her gaze burning into his back. He wanted nothing more than to turn around, stalk back to her, grab her by the arms and kiss the hell out of her…for starters.
After a few more steps, Melanie broke the silence between them. “That’s her, isn’t it? She’s your lost love—the one whose name you’d never tell me.”
Suddenly defensive, Kell shrugged. “She might be.”
Melanie tsked. “Might be, nothing. She is, and you know it. I swear, Kellan Chance, if you don’t tell that woman you still love her, you are just going to pop.”
Kell’s jaw tightened. “Then I guess I’ll have to pop.”
“Oh, you men. You are so stubborn.”
Kell glanced down at Melanie’s beauty-queen face. Guilt shot through him. Her worry over her wounded husband, the exhaustion on her face, her long flight…all of that was his fault. He’d caused it, as much as did the hazards of belonging to Special Ops—or being married to it. Kell suffered the fleeting yet troubling realization that this woman’s life, lived essentially without her husband at home but always worrying about him, would have been Jamie’s, if the two of them had made it work that last time. This is what he would have been subjecting her to. How selfish