Cinderella and the Playboy / The Texan's Happily-Ever-After: Cinderella and the Playboy / The Texas Billionaire's Baby

She shook her head. “I’m more interested in grade school.”

“Yet another thing we have in common,” he commented. “Both of us want careers where we can help people.”

She stared into his eyes, struck by the truth of his comment. They did seem to have a lot in common—and with each new revelation, her feelings for him deepened.

Conversation lapsed as they danced, the brush of their bodies casting a spell that held them, growing stronger, hotter with each movement of body against body as they swayed to the music.

When the orchestra took a break, Chase tipped his head back to look down at her.

“Thirsty?”

Jennifer nodded and Chance released her, his hand stroking in a warm caress down her arm before he threaded her fingers through his and led her from the crowded dance floor.

Guests strolled the periphery of the ballroom, sat with wineglasses at small tables, or gathered in groups to chat and observe the colorful swirl of other guests in the center of the room.

The champagne fountain sat on a white linen-covered table. Chance handed a filled crystal flute to Jennifer and lifted a second one.

“Hello, Chance. Frank told me you were here.”

Jennifer looked over her shoulder, her eyes widening at the lanky, blond man in a white chef’s coat. His features were movie-star handsome and a counterpoint to Chance’s dark masculinity.

“Jordan,” Chance greeted him with a wide grin. The two men shook hands and then Chance slipped his free hand around Jennifer’s waist to draw her closer. “Jennifer, this is Jordan Massey, the best chef in Boston.”

“Pleased to meet you, Jennifer.” The swift glance Jordan raked over her was pure male interest.

Jennifer felt a subtle tension in Chance. The possibility that he might be jealous of the good-looking chef was intriguing but she dismissed the notion. Instead, she smiled and held out her hand. “It’s lovely to meet you, Jordan. I’m so glad I have an opportunity to tell you how wonderful our dinner was—I can’t remember when I’ve enjoyed a meal more.”

“Thank you.” He took her hand, holding it a second too long and giving her fingers a light squeeze before releasing her. He lifted an eyebrow at Chance. “She’s beautiful and she loves my cooking. Where have you been hiding her, Chance?”

“Never mind.” Chance’s voice held a definite possessive warning. “Back off.”

Jordan laughed and winked at Jennifer. “Duty and my kitchen calls but we’ll have to talk later, Jennifer, and you can tell me how you’ve managed to make my friend so possessive.”

“I’m just protecting her from the wolves,” Chance drawled.

“Of course,” Jordan said blandly. “Enjoy the evening, my friend.”

Jennifer didn’t miss the enigmatic look he gave Chance before he disappeared into the crowd.

“Where did you meet him?” she asked Chance, curious about the chef.

“His sister was a patient of mine,” he told her. “He threw a party when the baby was born and after everyone else went home, we killed a fifth of Scotch toasting his new niece. We’ve been friends ever since.”

She sipped her champagne, her gaze drifting over the glittering gathering before stopping on a couple. The man wore a tux and the woman’s gown was a formfitting sapphire blue, her hair a long, wavy mane that gleamed like silk beneath the chandelier’s light. The two had eyes only for each other—until the man glanced up, grinned and waved.

“There’s Ted,” Chance commented, lifting his champagne glass in salute.

“Who’s the woman with him?” Jennifer asked.

“His wife,” Chance replied. “And I’m damned grateful Sara Beth said yes when he proposed. I work with him and he’s been a pain in the…well, let’s just say he was in a bad mood until he worked things out with her.”

“They look very much in love,” Jennifer said softly, her gaze on the two as the man brushed the woman’s long wavy hair over her shoulder and smiled down at her.

“They are.” Chance emptied his champagne flute and caught her hand. “Let’s dance.” He deposited their glasses. “I’m glad to know I was right,” he said as they circled the room.

“About what?” she asked, a tiny frown drawing her brows into a vee.

“The food,” he replied easily as he guided her out through open French doors and onto the wide balcony where other guests danced beneath the night sky. “Unless you were lying to Jordan. You did enjoy dinner?”

Her brow smoothed and a smile curved her mouth, lighting her eyes. “Oh, yes. The lobster was wonderful and the chocolate mousse was perfect.”

“I told you the food would be worth the cost of the ticket,” he said with satisfaction, executing a series of smooth, sweeping turns to move them down the length of the wide stone balcony. “Jordan doesn’t serve tiny slivers of artsy-looking food. His food is elegant without being precious—you know, no tiny portions that leave a guy so hungry that he has to stop for a burger on his way home.”

Jennifer looked up at him, a smile curving her lips. “It sounds suspiciously as if you’ve been forced to sit through dinners filled with…maybe, cucumber sandwiches and tea?”

He laughed. “Not since my grandmother made me eat them when I was a kid. Since then, though,

I’ve had to attend dinners where we were served rubbery chicken or tiny plates with three or four artfully arranged celery and radish slices.” He shuddered. “Makes me hungry just to think of it.”

“I’m guessing it takes more than celery and radishes to fuel a guy your size,” she joked.

“You guess right,” he said with a nod. “Lots more. I have a big appetite.” He winked at her.

She studied him, contemplating an answer to what was clearly an invitation.

His lips brushed her ear. “Aren’t you wondering what other appetites I have?” he teased, lazy amusement underlaid with darker, more volatile emotions.

She tilted her head and his mouth brushed over her cheek, with scant inches separating his lips from hers. “I was considering asking,” she said quietly. “But decided I should give the subject more thought before asking questions that might provoke dangerous answers.”

“I’d be happy to answer any questions, Jennifer,” he told her. “Dangerous or not.” Heat flared in his dark, heavy-lidded gaze.

“I’ve never been a woman who courts danger,” she murmured. “I’ve always preferred safe and sane.”

“You’re safe with me, Jennifer,” he muttered, pressing his lips to her temple. “I’d never hurt a woman, especially you.” His arms tightened as he swept her into a series of fast, graceful turns.

“I believe you,” she replied softly once she was back in his embrace. “At least, not physically. But you’re a very attractive man, Chance, and a woman could lose her heart to you.”

“Could she?” he rasped, his voice deeper.

“Yes.” She nodded, her hair brushing the underside of his chin and his throat. “I don’t want a broken heart, Chance.”

“I won’t break your heart. Come home with me, Jennifer.” His fingers trailed over her cheek, tucked a tendril of soft hair behind her ear, and returned to brush over her lower lip. “I’ve wanted you since the first time I saw you.”

“I don’t sleep around,” she told him honestly. They’d stopped dancing but still stood within the circle of each other’s arms. Beyond the balustrade, the lights of the city glowed while on the street below, the faint sounds of traffic drifted upward. Down the length of the stone veranda they’d traversed, a series of French doors were thrown open to the ballroom. Gold light poured out, illuminating the guests at the other end of the veranda as some strolled or leaned on the wide, chest-high stone bulwark and some danced, swaying in time to the orchestra’s lush notes. Chance and Jennifer were alone at their end of the long veranda, shadowed except for the spill of soft light that fell through the glass panes of the French doors beside them, drawn closed against the crowded ballroom inside. The yellow light highlighted his face and she searched his features. “In fact…I haven’t been with a man since my divorce, and that was more than five years ago.”

His eyes darkened, his mouth a sensual curve. “Honey, that’s a damned shame. A woman as beautiful as you should be loved often and well.” He bent and brushed his mouth over hers, then lingered to slowly trace her lower lip with the tip of his tongue. “Come home with me. Please.”

He urged her closer until she rested against his chest, her thighs aligned with his. Jennifer shuddered at the press of her breasts against hard muscles.