Her Only Chance

Fine-tuning? That’s it? Jamie leaned forward and stared at her former mentor, now tormentor. “That sounds hopeful. Considering I’ve studied under you for years, you’d have seen if I had any serious emotional problems by now. We’re just talking about temporary, right?”

“Correct. And I don’t feel you have serious emotional problems, Jamie. However, I am seeing something, in the course of these sessions, that I feel you need to address before going into practice for yourself.”

But I’m not going into practice, she wanted to yell. I’m going to be rich and be on TV. I’ll have books and make public appearances and—

Dr. Hampton continued “—while I don’t think you have a long-term problem, I just don’t see how, at this point, I can recommend you for licensing in marriage and family counseling.”

Still a bit breathless with the enormity of the man’s words, Jamie concentrated on breathing—and cooperating. “Okay. So we can’t do that now. What do I have to do? More classes? Labs? Some more interning?”

Dr. Hampton held out a steadying hand to her. “No, none of that. You’ve been exemplary in your courses. It’s not that at all.”

“Then what? It’s me, isn’t it? You’re just being nice and I am so totally messed up, aren’t I?”

Dr. Hampton chuckled. “No, calm down. You’re going way overboard with this.”

Yes she was, and she couldn’t stop it. “Am I at least going to graduate tomorrow night? I have family here for the ceremony. What am I going to tell them?”

Dr. Hampton gripped Jamie’s hand and looked her in the eye. “Listen to me. You don’t have to tell them anything. You will graduate tomorrow night, and your degree will be conferred upon you. It will be my honor to present it to you, Jamie.”

Grateful tears filled her eyes. Jamie slipped her hand out of his and reached across a small end table to the box of tissues. She plucked one out, wiped her eyes, then tossed it in a waste backet. “Well, thank God—and you—for that much, at least. My mother and sister are here from New Orleans to see me graduate.”

Dr. Hampton smiled. “Excellent. I’m sure you’re enjoying their visit. And I’ll look forward to meeting them.” Then his expression sobered, signaling a change in subject. “About your license, Jamie. Try not to be discouraged. Or too hard on yourself. I think you can work through this just fine. However, your graduate committee and I believe that before we can sign off on your state application you need to work a bit on finding closure.”

Jamie nodded, taking a moment to come to terms with what he was telling her. She also tried to think how she could get through this without Liz finding out. She had no choice but to cooperate. And to admit that this had really shaken her. Was there no area in her life where she could get things right the first time out? “All right. What do I have to do?”

“As I said, seek closure. With Kellan Chance.”

Jamie’s stomach tightened. As Donna had reminded her, she’d walked away from Kell—for the second time in her life—only a year ago. And now, her entire professional life rested on achieving closure with this man, a consummate warrior in her white-collar world? A teensy little fly in her great big jar of ointment? Dread washed over Jamie. Resting an elbow atop her knee, she leaned forward, rubbing at her forehead. “Great. Kellan Chance. The story of my life. I thought you meant undergo more sessions, talk about my feelings for him, something like that.”

“I do. We’ll continue those as well.”

“Dr. Hampton, perhaps I should explain. Kellan and I have quite the history. We go way back. Since before high school. Then, eight years ago, when I was twenty-one, I left him at the altar. Full church, white dress, all the trimmings. He was not amused at being humiliated in front of the whole town.”

“I suppose not. So you’re saying you don’t believe Mr. Chance has feelings for you?”

“Oh, he has a lot of feelings for me. All of them centering around murder.”

Dr. Hampton eyed her skeptically. “Are you certain? Because you said earlier in this session that you’d been involved with him after the, um, failed wedding.”

Guilt had Jamie darting her gaze around the room. “Yes. Two years ago we got together again. We lasted about a year.”

“I see. And how did it end that last time?”

“Badly. I walked away. Again.”

“Ah. Why is that?”

Jamie was getting tired of this being all about her. “Look, you need to understand the Chance family. It isn’t just a name with them. It’s their motto. The whole family takes chances in some way. Kell has two brothers—Brandon and T.J. Brandon is older than Kell. He used to be a Nightstalker pilot. Now that he is out of the military, he’s still taking risks, running his own security company. And T.J., the youngest, is into extreme sports. Very extreme. Even their parents are gamblers—real gamblers. That’s how they earn their living. So anywhere it’s legal, they’re there. When the boys were young and the Chances needed to go ‘earn a living,’ they’d have Aunt Tillie—who deals cards on a riverboat—sit with them.”

“Good heavens.”

“That’s milder than most people put it.” She stopped and looked Dr. Hampton in the eye. “And that’s the crux of the problem. I just don’t think Kell could change, even if he wanted to. And I don’t think he does. Taking risks is in his genes. He gambles with his health, his life, his body. Everything but his heart. He—”

“Jamie, what would you do if he did change?”

Her body’s response to that question startled Jamie. Fear had jetted over her. Fear, not relief. Warily, she eyed her therapist. “What do you mean?”

“If he quit taking risks. If he settled down, got a stable job. Would you marry him?”

“Wow. I can’t imagine Kell like that.” She laughed. “No, I guess he wouldn’t be himself, so I wouldn’t love him as much as I do. So I couldn’t marry him.”

Dr. Hampton just stared at her.

Jamie sobered. “Oh, God, I am so messed up. How could I get this far without knowing myself?”

Dr. Hampton relented, smiling. “I see this all the time at this stage, Jamie. We’re so busy learning and examining everyone but ourselves that we forget we’re human, too. I’m simply saying there’s something here worth exploring. Some unresolved feelings between the two of you. Do you agree?”

Jamie’s shoulders slumped with defeat. “Yes.” What choice did she have?

“Don’t look so glum, Jamie. You’ve made real progress in the past few weeks.”

“I suppose. I’m almost not against marriage anymore.”

Startled, Dr. Hampton sat forward in his chair. “That’s an odd conviction, Jamie, for someone who’s training to be a marriage and family counselor.”

Jamie started backpeddling before she lost more ground. “I’ll be a good counselor, Dr. Hampton. You know that. Just because something isn’t right for me doesn’t make it wrong for other people. I can separate the two.”

“Well, the only way we’ll know that for sure is for you to achieve a satisfactory resolution with Mr. Chance. In fact, I think your success in private practice depends on it.”

This was a disaster. Jamie exhaled slowly. She’d give anything if she could tell him the truth, that she wouldn’t be going into private practice. Then it struck her. It didn’t matter if she went into private practice or not. She’d still need the same skills, the same compassion, when she wrote her book because she’d still have patients, hopefully millions of them. Her readers.

Dr. Hampton was right. Facing Kell again would only make her a better therapist, a better author—a better person. Dammit. She brushed her hair back from her face. “So. Kellan Chance.”

Dr. Hampton nodded, seemingly a bit mollified. “Afraid so. But I don’t think it’s as dire as you believe.”

“Oh, it’s dire. I am the last person on earth Lieutenant-Commander Kellan Chance wants to see.”

“You’ve said as much. But isn’t he stationed here in Tampa at MacDill Air Force Base?” He flipped back through his notes. “Yes. Here it is—Special Operations Command, right?”

“Right,” Jamie grumbled. She knew how close Kellan was to her…geographically.

“Good. Because if you take care of things with Commander Chance promptly—then we might not have to delay your licensing for long.”

“Seriously?” Jamie perked up. “How long?” Maybe she could stall Highline Publishing. Maybe she could tell them her license was being processed. She could plead logjammed paperwork, delays at the post office, things like that.

“Well, how long depends on you. But I’m thinking maybe thirty days.”

Relief coursed through Jamie. Thirty days were so doable.

“I believe that since Mr. Chance lives here, all you need is opportunity.”

Jamie shook her head. “And more courage than I’ve ever had.” She could just see herself knocking on Kell’s door…after having told him, a year ago, that it was over forever between them. She could still see his stony expression that hid the hurt in his dark eyes. Guilt pushed aside her short-lived relief. She couldn’t play with Kell’s heart for her own gain. She had to be sincere in whatever she said or did. Or she’d never respect herself again. “So, all I have to do is get him to talk to me, just work out our issues? I mean, I don’t actually have to commit to anything with him, do I?”

“Oh no, no. We’re not in the business of forcing love. I wouldn’t counsel that. But, Jamie—is this something you can do? Do you feel safe, comfortable, in his presence?”

“Safe?” She thought of Kellan’s hawkish stare, his muscled body…the way his hands, his mouth, felt on her. She sighed. “Safe and comfortable are two things no one feels around Kell. He’s so intense. But in this context, yes, I’ll be fine. Despite his training and his occupation, he’s a very gentle man. Out at the base, the Special Ops guys are called the Quiet Professionals.”

“I see. That’s interesting—and good to hear. Because all I’m asking you to do is examine your own motives and feelings and then talk to him.”

“Talk to him,” she repeated. “This whole thing sounds as if I’m seeking forgiveness.”

Dr. Hampton’s expression softened. “You may be. But you won’t know until you talk to him.”

Just the thought of seeing Kell again had her stomach fluttering…with anticipation or dread, she couldn’t say. Heaving out a sigh, she met her professor’s waiting gaze. “So. I guess I have my marching orders.” She looked at the clock. Mercifully, her hour was up. Jamie stood and retrieved her purse. Dr. Hampton stood, too. “This isn’t going to be easy,” she remarked.

“I know. If it were easy, you wouldn’t have a problem.” With that, Dr. Hampton walked her to the door. “Try not to worry right now, Jamie. Get through graduation and enjoy your family’s visit. After they leave, we’ll talk again and go from there, okay?”

Jamie opened the office door and then turned to shake his hand. “Thank you…I guess.”

Dr. Hampton chuckled. “Jamie, you’re one of the finest doctoral candidates I’ve ever worked with. You’re infinitely qualified academically, and you’ll be fine. Trust me, this Kellan Chance thing is merely a hump you need to get over. One day you’ll look back on this and thank me—only sincerely.”

While pleased by his compliments—her flagging confidence really needed to hear them—Jamie just smiled. But she couldn’t help wondering if, once she walked back into Kellan Chance’s life, he would want to thank Dr. Hampton. Yeah, right. With a low-level air strike, maybe. Or a bouquet of bayonets.

2

MEANWHILE, and not too far away, on the secretive air force base situated on a spit of land that jutted out into Tampa Bay, Kellan Chance was learning his fate. And he was not a happy SEAL.

“I just don’t see any help for it, Lieutenant Commander,” General Halter was saying. “Your medical condition requires me to assign you thirty days R and R while we make a further review of the incident. While you’re on the mend, you’re free to come and go as you please. But I’d like you to stay in Tampa and make yourself available to the investigators.”

“Yes, sir. Of course, sir.” No one had to tell Kell what his commanding officer meant by thirty days of rest and relaxation. He had, in essence, just been relieved of his command, wounded or not. Dressed in his battle fatigues in front of General Halter’s desk in the Special Operations Command headquarters building on MacDill Air Force Base, Kell knew he’d messed up. He’d been in charge of a mission in Eastern Europe that had gone sour.

It was the worst possible outcome. They’d been detected, had a face-to-face with the opposition, and in the ensuing fight, some of his men had suffered injuries. In fact, Jeff Camden, his second-in-command and Kell’s best friend, was still in the hospital in Frankfurt, Germany. Guilt ate at Kell. Still, he refused to blame the bad intelligence he’d received regarding their target. He had no one but him to blame. That was the way it worked. He knew the risks and had always accepted them. With rank came responsibility. He’d danced to the music, and now it was time to pay the piper. Hopefully, the price would not be his career. That loss of honor would be unthinkable.

“At ease, Commander. This isn’t an inquisition.”

“Yes, sir.” No less tense, Kell did as ordered. He stood straight, his hands clasped behind his back, his gaze riveted to a point on the opposite wall.

“Look, Kell, why don’t you sit down and let’s talk, man to man?”

Kell blinked at the general’s familiar use of his name. He cut his gaze over to the tall, lanky man, who suddenly appeared to look a little haggard. “Yes, sir. After you, sir.”

The general nodded and sat down, gesturing to the upholstered leather chair on the other side of the desk.

With measured precision and a few sharp moves worthy of a military parade…as if to show the general that the sutured and bandaged cut on his thigh didn’t bother him…Kell sat, holding his Special Ops beret in his hand while he awaited the general’s next words. He tried to convince himself that his heart wasn’t about to thump out of his chest.

The general sat forward, resting his elbows atop his desk and tenting his fingers together. “All right, here’s the thing. How old are you?”

Startled, Kell almost dropped his precise military bearing. “I’m thirty-two, sir.”

“Thirty-two. And you’re a lieutenant commander. I’ve always believed that only in our profession and in professional athletics is thirty-two getting up there in age. Most of our field officers are still in their twenties.”

Kell knew instantly where this was going. A desk job. His chest tightened around his heart, which felt as if it were expanding. “Begging the general’s pardon, sir, but I’m as fit as any man in my—”

“Yes, you are, even despite your injury. And you’re a fine commander. Your men are extremely loyal to you, and your superiors sing your praises, me among them. You’re also a highly decorated officer with more successful missions under your belt than anyone else. No one doubts your dedication, son.”

Until this last mission. It was unspoken between them. As the general talked, Kell’s jaw got tighter and tighter.

“It’s time for a change, Kell. I know how you feel about a desk job. But you have to admit this isn’t any ordinary office. You know what SOCOM is—a mixed-branch military nerve center where the strategy is done for the four services, where the missions originate. And it’s a tremendous responsibility. I feel we need someone like you in-house. No one knows Special Ops like you. And, of course, there’s a promotion in this.”

Kell sat rigid. The only thing worse would be to get assigned to the Pentagon—it was considered a graveyard for commanders. However, the one-foot-in-the-grave assignment was the desk job. Which he’d just been handed. A dead end. The last of the line. Kicked off the team for a lack of performance. Total loss of respect, of self-esteem. And there wasn’t one damn thing he could do about it, except say, “Thank you, sir. I’m honored, sir.”

“Like hell you are, Commander. I wasn’t when I got these stars—” he pointed to the insignia of his rank on his shoulders “—and this corner office. I thought my military life was over, that I was washed up. I couldn’t have been more wrong. And neither can you. This isn’t punishment, Kell. But it will seem like it when you’re sitting here safely, knowing you’re putting young men out in the field in jeopardy. You’re going to fret like you’re their daddy. And you’ll find you’re extremely careful of every detail so none of them gets hurt. That’s what I want from you. In one way, having you here is a way of making sure that what happened to you and your men will never happen again.”

Kell met his commanding officer’s steel-gray eyes. The general was referring to the intelligence officer who’d been relieved of command after Kell’s latest mission had failed. But Kell couldn’t help thinking that the general also meant that if Kell was sitting here at a desk, he couldn’t lead any other men into a trap. He swallowed, knowing the general was awaiting some comment from him. He stood up, coming again to attention. General Halter followed suit. Kell met the older man’s gaze. “Thank you, sir. Will that be all, sir?”

The general looked Kell up and down, narrowing his eyes assessingly. “You’re a fine man and a fine officer, Commander Chance. It’s just time for a change, for a move up the chain of command. It will be an honor to have you in the building and to work with you directly.”

Like the general had said—it sure as hell didn’t feel like an honor. Still, Kell put his beret back on, carefully adjusting it to the perfect angle. Then he saluted the general. “Thank you, sir. I look forward to the opportunity to serve you and my country in my new capacity.”

The general nodded and returned Kell’s salute.

Guilt ate at Kell. He’d gone too far one time too many. He’d asked too much from his men, and they’d almost paid the price with their lives—and all at his command. Maybe the general was right. Maybe he was getting too old for this. Maybe it was time to quit gambling, something his parents had never learned. Maybe it was time for a desk, time for change. No more risks.

Like hell it was. A bit of the fire in Kell’s belly went out. Who was he kidding? He didn’t believe any of that. He was Kellan Chance. A warrior. It was too bad his mother and father had just left after coming to see about him. He could have asked them what the Gaelic term for desk jockey was. Thank God they’d returned to New Orleans before he’d been put out to pasture. That wasn’t something he wanted them to know right off. But he’d better get used to the idea, he told himself. Because apparently he was going to have to live it.

He was also going to have to find a way to avoid losing face with his risk-taking brothers. Or himself.

THREE DAYS and as many doctoral-degree celebrations later, Jamie sat with Donna in the sun-splashed Tampa International Airport. True to Winslow form, the three of them—Jamie, her sister and their mother—had arrived chronically early for the flight that would take Jamie’s family back to New Orleans. So, with time to kill, their mother had wandered into a glass-fronted bookstore in search of the latest thriller to read during the flight.

That left Jamie and Donna to chat as they camped out with the carry-on luggage at one of the upscale coffee bars in the terminal. But even with all the traffic around them, all heads turned their way when Donna squealed, “You have got to be kidding—”

“Shh.” Jamie immediately leaned across the table. “Mom and half of Tampa will hear you.”

Donna’s blue eyes danced with delicious intrigue as she, too, leaned forward, speaking in a lowered voice. “Mom’s over there in that bookstore. She can’t hear us.”

“Ha. The woman can hear through walls. We’re talking about Mom here, Donna.” Jamie sipped the last of her coffee.

“Like heck we are. We’re talking about Kellan Chance. I was right, wasn’t I? You’re going to have to confront him.” Triumphant, Donna sat back. “Damn. I’m good.”

Jamie wondered what her sister would say once she could finally tell her about the book deal. “Yes, you are. But I knew it would all be about Kell, if you’ll remember.”

“Yes, you knew.” Donna turned serious. “But I’m worried about you, little sister. You walked away from that man and a church full of people on your wedding day eight years ago. And then you broke up with him again last year. And now these psycho professors of yours want you to see him again?” Donna sipped her coffee and eyed Jamie over the cup’s rim. “Have they lost their collective minds, playing Cupid like this? Kell is not going to be amused.”

“They’re not playing Cupid. They say I need closure. Can’t you just hear me telling someone as practical-minded as Kellan Chance that we need closure? He’s going to think I’m crazy.”

“Well, add my name to that list,” Donna said. “I’ve thought you were nuts ever since you ditched him right out of college.”

Jamie let out a guilty breath. “Will you quit saying I ditched him? I didn’t ditch him. I had…issues.”

“Issues? Such as…?”

“It’s not obvious? The way he plays with life and limb, Donna. I mean, come on, he’s thirty-two now. When do these Chance boys get over it?”

As if suddenly too warm, Donna fanned herself with her hand and sent her sister an arch expression. “They’re hardly boys, honey. Whew. Kell and his brothers are men to the nth degree. Wow.” Then she popped forward in her seat. “Wait a minute. You knew that Kell hadn’t changed a couple of years ago when y’all got back together. Shoot, we expected you two to finally get married then. But you took off on him again. So, what’s really going on here, Jamie? There’s something else, isn’t there?”

Jamie exhaled and toyed with her now empty paper cup. There was something going on. She just wished she knew what it was. It wasn’t a commitment thing. She’d committed to many things…although none of them had been men.

“Sweetie? Out loud.”

Jamie blinked and stared at her sister. “Oh. Sorry.” Suddenly she wished she and Donna lived a little closer. There was no one better to confide in. Donna was a counselor herself, a committed wife to Wayne and a wonderful mother to Jamie’s niece and nephew, Cindy and Bret. In other words, she was stable. But Donna was also someone who would be totally on Jamie’s side, someone who had the same parents, the same experiences, and who could tell her how to get past this closure/commitment hang-up of hers.

Feeling a rush of warmth for her sister, Jamie leaned forward, fully prepared to spill everything that was going on with her—including the book deal. Until she glanced over her sister’s shoulder. Then Jamie sat up stiffly, her mouth open, her eyes wide.

Donna pivoted in her seat and a starkly silent moment passed. Then, Donna, still looking over her shoulder, intoned, “Oh…my…God.” She jerked back around to face Jamie. “Is that who I think it is with 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.