Chance McCall (12 page)

Twice Chance started to speak, but each time the words never got past the lump in his throat.
My God, but she’s beautiful
!

“Did you bring it?” Jenny asked.

“What?” Chance asked.

“Your appetite.” She smiled. “Juana’s been cooking for two days. If you don’t like Mexican food, you better not say so. Just push it around on your plate and fake it.”

“I don’t know what the hell I like,” he said. “But I’m willing to try just about anything.”

The words came out meaning one thing, but the look on his face told Jenny he was thinking about an entirely different subject. He hadn’t taken his eyes off of her since she’d walked down the hall. If looks fed hunger, he’d already have eaten his fill…of her.

Marcus watched them—his daughter and the man who’d stolen her heart—and wondered how this mess would ever end. Even before the accident, Chance had made no overtures toward Jenny, at least none of which he’d been aware. Now, with his lack of memory standing between them, how could Jenny ever hope to conquer the extra odds?

Marcus kept his worries and his thoughts to himself. It was time to play host.

“Okay,” he said. “I don’t know about you two, but I’m heading for the dining room. Henry’s already got at least a five minute head start and that could mean trouble.”

They laughed, the tenseness of the moment broken by Marcus’s words.

“He’s right, you know,” Jenny said, as she slipped her hand in the crook of Chance’s arm. “Come with me. I know where Juana keeps extras just in case.”

Her hand felt small and trusting…and right. And somehow, Chance made it down the hall, and through the meal without making a fool of himself. It was difficult, because he didn’t want the food that was placed before him. He’d suddenly realized that he wanted something entirely different. He wanted Jenny Tyler.

It was strange the things that came instinctively. Chance had no problem knowing what needed to be done around the ranch. He would find himself nearly through with a task that he had no recollection of starting, although the first few days he’d done little more than observe. At times he would get light-headed and have to rest. He was constantly frustrated by his lack of endurance, but his physical strength was gradually returning. It was his lack of mental capacity that kept him on edge. He didn’t remember a damn thing before waking up in the hospital and staring into wide blue eyes and the face of an angel.

The angel might have a sweet face, however it did not match her disposition. She hovered and cajoled, scolded and protected, until he was afraid to zip up his pants without asking permission. Regardless of his annoyance, he still sensed her presence, or heard her coming, long before she would make herself known. For some reason, he’d tuned in to Jenny Tyler and try as he might, could not tune her out. He wasn’t even sure that he wanted to. Even if she did ride him for doing too much too soon, there was always that small lilt of anticipation that kicked him in his gut when he heard her voice or saw her smile.

“Chance! That’s too heavy for you! Let one of the other men finish loading the fencing material.”

He turned with a frown and dropped the fence posts he’d been carrying back into the bed of the pickup truck.

“Jennifer Ann, why don’t you find something to do besides wet nurse me? I’ve got enough sense to know if I’ve started something I can’t finish.”

Jenny’s mouth dropped. He’d called her Jennifer Ann! Even if it was instinctive, it had come from a part of him that she thought she’d lost. Her eyes watered and her chin wobbled as she tried to speak. It was no use. Words wouldn’t come. It didn’t matter. Words were not what she needed as she flew into his arms.

Chance caught her, but he wasn’t certain why she’d just thrown herself into his arms. All he knew was that it felt right holding her, and that it wasn’t enough.

“Hell, girl,” he growled. “I’m sorry I was so cranky. But dammit, Jenny…you hover. You’re going to have to let up or I’ll never get anything done.” His voice softened as he felt her arms sliding around his waist. “And, I’m sorry I yelled.”

“It’s not what you told me. It’s what you called me.” Her voice was muffled against the front of his shirt.

“Called you? What are you talking—”

“Jennifer Ann. You called me Jennifer Ann.”

Adrenaline spiked through him. His arms tightened around her shoulders as he nuzzled the top of her head. Something vague, yet familiar, hung just out of reach of his memory. It was the first hint they’d had that recovery was possible, maybe even imminent.

“That’s good, isn’t it?” His plea for assurance was as strong as his arms around her shoulders.

“Yes, Chance, that’s good.” Jenny leaned back and stared into his face. “Life is good.”

She slid her hands up the front of his shirt and relished the life beating beneath her fingertips. A smear of dust on the corner of his chin caught her eye. She started to wipe it away and then stopped. It was time to let go. He could function with a smear of dirt on his chin. He had before. He would now.

“So!” she said. “Go back to whatever you were doing. I’m going shopping.”

He grinned. She’d not only loosened her apron strings, she’d just cut him free. “Thank you, Jenny.”

She knew what he meant. “You’re welcome, mister. But don’t think that you’re completely off the hook. You’re still going to catch hell if I see you doing something to endanger your health. And, just for the record, that happened before the accident too. Don’t think just because you saved my life that you’re going to get preferential treatment forever.”

“No, ma’am.” Chance’s smile was broader. She started to walk away. “Hey, Jenny!”

She turned.

“When you go shopping…you gonna bring me a surprise?”

“Why should I? You’re already full of surprises.”

His laughter followed her all the way to the house.

“How’s he doing?” Marcus asked, as Jenny came in the door.

She smiled and shrugged. “His memory’s still shot, but his attitude is normal. He wants me to mind my own business and bring him a present from town.”

Marcus watched the look of love on his daughter’s face and knew a small moment of jealousy that it was for another man. The emotion was just as strange to Marcus as the thought. His daughter loved him…didn’t she? He shouldn’t worry if she also loved someone else…should he?

Jenny walked out of the room. He started to call her back, but then stopped.
What the hell could he say? Oh Jenny, by the way, do you happen to love me? Or have I wasted my opportunities once too often
?

It was a sobering thought, and one that Marcus had no intention of letting slide. Not this time. Not ever again.

“Now just because Dr. Walker has pronounced you more or less recovered, doesn’t mean you can fall back into your normal routine,” Jenny said, as she turned into the driveway and headed toward the bunkhouse. Chance glared.

She had just driven Chance to his last doctor’s appointment and the checkup had been good. Unless he had new or recurring complications, he was released.

“Well, bossy, since I don’t remember what the hell my old routine was, I don’t suppose I’ll be resuming it, will I?”

Chance’s sarcastic drawl was not lost on Jenny. She’d almost overstepped her bounds again. And she knew that he was becoming frustrated by the fact that he’d had no other signs that would indicate his memory was returning since the time he’d inadvertently called her Jennifer Ann.

“Good!” she said sharply. “Those Saturday night women can go find someone else.”

A dark, red flush crept up his neck and face. “For God’s sake, Jennifer! Did I have any secrets from you?”

She grinned. “Not enough to brag about.”

Chance bolted. Jenny watched him stomp into the bunkhouse and slam the door shut behind him.
Good
! she thought. She wanted him to wonder about their relationship. She wanted him nervous about what she knew and what he couldn’t remember. It could be the only chance she’d have to get under his skin and find out why he wouldn’t have committed to her.

Jenny drove back to the house and parked. She bumped into her father as he came out of the den.

“Where are you going?” she asked, watching him shift a garment bag and an overnight carryall to a more comfortable position. “Another trip, I suppose.”

Marcus frowned. The tone of her voice pricked his conscience. He’d never wondered or worried before about what Jenny did when he was gone. This awareness of his daughter was bringing new concerns into his life.

“I’ve got to fly to Houston, honey,” he said. “Want to come? All you need to do is grab a couple of changes of clothes. If you forget anything, you can always go shopping.”

Jenny gaped. She was nearly twenty-four years old and never…absolutely never before…had Marcus ever invited her to go with him. “With you?”

He smiled. The sarcastic tone in his voice was not lost on Jenny. “Hell yes, girl. With me. Do you want to go?”

She sighed. He’d just asked her something that once she’d have given a year of her life to hear. Now was a different story.

“I don’t want to be away from Chance.”

Marcus frowned. “He wouldn’t let you near him when he was well. Don’t take advantage of the fact that he doesn’t remember that, missy,” he said.

A deep, abiding pain began to curl in the pit of her stomach. “You didn’t have to remind me, Marcus,” she said sharply. “I don’t forget anything. I’m not allowed to.”

“I didn’t mean it the way…”

“Drop it,” Jenny said. “Have a safe trip.”

He knew he’d hurt her. He could see her blinking back tears. But it had been years since he’d seen his daughter cry. He suspected it would be a lot longer before she allowed him that familiarity. A parent had to earn the right to love. Of all the things he’d earned and accumulated in his lifetime, the right to love his only child was not one of them.

He frowned and then sighed. Apologies were not in his vocabulary. “I’ll be back late tomorrow,” he said. “If you need me for anything, check the papers on my desk. There’s a phone number and the name of my hotel where I can be reached in emergency.”

Jenny nodded.

“Jenny—”

“Have a safe trip, Marcus,” she said. She wasn’t in the mood for any more of his advice.

And then he was gone.

Less than fifteen minutes later, Juana came into Jenny’s room with a piece of paper in her hand.

“Jenny! Where’s Marcus?” she asked.

“He’s gone, but not forgotten,” Jenny said, ignoring the look of rebuke she knew Juana would be wearing. “Does he have a message?”

Juana nodded. “I think it will be important to him,” she answered.

“Give it to me,” she said. “I’ll phone his hotel. When he arrives, the message will be waiting.”

Juana nodded and handed Jenny the message. “Are you going to eat dinner here tonight?”

Jenny shrugged. The thought of a long, lonesome evening loomed. And then an idea surfaced. “Yes! In fact, we’re all going to eat here. Let’s have a cookout on the patio. Thaw some steaks. I’ll tell Henry and the boys.”

Juana teased her. “Don’t forget to tell Chance. It would be a shame if he—”

“Shut up, smarty,” Jenny said, softening her words with a smile. “You know entirely too much about me for my own peace of mind.”

“I know I love you,
niña
,” Juana said. “And I don’t want to see you hurt.”

“I’m not going to be hurt. Chance wouldn’t hurt me.”

“This Chance is not our old Chance, and you know it,” Juana reminded her, and silenced Jenny with a look.

Jenny headed for her father’s study. She shuffled through the papers on his desk and finally located the brochure with the hotel address and number that he’d circled. She dialed the number, read the message twice to the desk clerk, and then hung up with a feeling of accomplishment. Marcus’s plans would not go awry and neither would hers. She had a special plan for tonight after the meal. She was going to resurrect some old home movies. The men always loved to see themselves in action, and she knew that Chance was in many of the shots. Maybe this would help jog his memory. It couldn’t hurt.

Chance watched Jenny flit from one group of men to the other, playing hostess one minute, and reverting to “one of the boys” the next. She kept slipping glances in his direction when she thought he wasn’t looking, but, true to her claim, she’d more or less left him alone. He didn’t know whether he was relieved or disappointed. His fingers curled around the cold bottle of beer in his hand and knew that holding that beer was not what he wanted to do. Holding Jenny seemed much more necessary…and important.

“What’s for dessert?” Henry asked, as Jenny scraped the last of the potato salad onto his plate.

“Movies,” she answered, and grinned at the men’s cheers of delight.

“Show last year’s roundup,” one called.

“No, show the Labor Day barbecue where Shorty and Pete got into a fight over Hettie Williams,” another one said.

“How about the time…”

The catcalls and rude jokes flew around the yard as the men hurried to move their chairs onto the flagstone patio where Juana had erected a portable screen. Henry quickly took over the duty of projectionist, thereby assuring himself that he could run whatever film he chose, and took bets on whether Shorty or Pete would be the first to lose their temper when the movie was shown. It was still a source of contention with them that Hettie Williams had ignored them both and gone home with a cowboy from a neighboring ranch. They blamed each other for her abandonment.

Chance turned away and walked into the shadows. It was almost dark, a perfect time for outdoor viewing of the promised movies, and a perfect time to slip away. The need to run was strong, as was the need to remember. The moment he’d heard her announcement, he’d known what had prompted her decision to show the movies.

A feeling of dismay mingled with one of excitement. If he watched, maybe something would trigger a memory that would bring him back to normal. And, if he did watch and nothing happened, it only made his condition more hopeless…more final.

“Are you mad at me?” Jenny asked.

He turned at the sound of her voice.