A Chance in the Night. Kimberly Meter Van
pimps getting dangerously possessive with their girls. He couldn’t imagine being under someone’s thumb like that. At least with his mother she’d been a free agent. For that small blessing, he’d been grateful. “I could see what I can do.”
She gave him a look from her clear hazel eyes that was at the same time hard and vulnerable and he wondered if she realized how much she gave away with that single glance. “I can’t afford any more attempts.” She drew a halting breath and forced a short smile. “I appreciate your help. I’m sorry I snuck out on you. You deserved better but believe me when I say that I did you a favor.”
He didn’t doubt her honesty at that moment. And he should’ve left it at that. She was giving warnings to steer clear of her and her problems. But there was something about her—and it wasn’t anything about her physically, which would’ve been the easy motivation for anyone else—but rather it was when she looked at her son he saw pure love tempered by desolation. He wanted to know why. And he knew full well his curiosity wasn’t a good thing but he’d been snagged in the mouth pretty hard and there was no shaking it loose no matter how hard he tried.
“At least tell me your name,” he said.
Her groomed brows arched. “What’s in a name? The likelihood of ever seeing each other again is slim.”
“The odds were slim before today and yet here we are.”
“I could give you any name and it wouldn’t matter.”
“It matters to me.”
She held his stare for a long moment and he wondered what went on beyond that careful facade. He suspected a deep well lurked beneath that seemingly still surface. He half expected her to leave him hanging like she did that morning. But she surprised him with an answer. “My name is Skye D’Lane. Thank you…” She paused in question, waiting with a slight tilt of her lips.
“Christian. Christian Holt.”
“Thank you, Christian, for being there.”
SKYE NEARLY BIT HER TONGUE for going against her own decision to remain a mystery. But she’d felt compelled to at least give him her name. She figured it was only fair seeing as he’d saved her life. Yet, as she chewed her bottom lip, she had a strong suspicion a name wouldn’t be enough for a man like Christian Holt. Men like Christian found projects and Skye had just given him the green light to count her among his. A delicate shiver rocked her at the thought.
Perhaps it was the remnant of her distasteful altercation with Vivian that still had her on edge and feeling reckless. Or perhaps it was just that standing there with this incredibly good-looking man who was smiling at her as if she’d just given him the keys to the castle made her feel normal and she hungered for such simple pleasures. “I used to dance,” she said, the need to be anything other than he already knew caused her to loosen her tongue when she otherwise would’ve remained quiet. She never gave up personal information. Her dancing had been her own, a bright, shiny spot on the time line of her life thus far and she protected it with the fierce snarl of a mother bear. And yet, she’d given him this information without a fight.
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