Free Chance McCall by Sharon Sala Page A

was lost in the gasp that followed as Chance’s hands slid beneath the nylon barrier. Her eyes widened as she stared up into the face of love. “No…” she began. Then he sent her sanity spinning out of control.
    His fingers stroked and pulled, rubbing slowly at first, back and forth against her hot, swollen flesh until Jenny thought she was going to die. Her hands dug into his shoulders as he gave her love in a way she’d never imagined, and would never forget. Her bones melted beneath his touch as his lips swooped, coaxing away, with soft words and sweet touches, the last of her inhibitions.
    Tears blinded Jenny’s view of his face as a fever swept through her body. Everything within her seemed to swell and pulse toward the point in her body that Chance had possessed. Suddenly she lost control and cried aloud, frightened by the overwhelming need to be carried away by the touch of the big man above her.
    “Let it go, Jenny,” he pleaded, “ride with the feeling, baby. I can’t go with you, but let me take you away.”
    His name was a chant as she arched beneath his fingers. Light burst behind her eyelids in an explosion of colors as heat spilled in her body. She moaned as Chance wrapped her in his arms and buried his face against her neck. She felt his tears, and even in her innocence, knew the strength of mind and character that it had taken for him to give her joy and deny himself fulfillment.
    “I’ll never forgive you for not being inside me when this happened,” Jenny whispered, blinking back tears from the overwhelming passion she’d just endured.
    “And I’d never have forgiven myself if I had,” he said. “This shouldn’t have happened, and I can tell you it won’t happen again.”
    He crawled to his feet and then stopped short, unable to walk for the pain. He leaned over and grabbed his knees, taking deep, harsh gulps of air as he tried to regain control of his rebellious body.
    Jenny shakily pulled herself up. Tears streaked silently down her face as she methodically picked hay from her hair and clothing.
    Chance took a deep breath and straightened just in time to see her shutter her expression. He’d hurt her, but the pain inside him was infinitely worse. She didn’t know that he wanted to go out and shoot the next man who even looked at her twice. In Chance’s eyes, she’d become his woman. But he couldn’t have her. All he had were ghosts and a monthly paycheck. Not enough to take and keep the heir to the Triple T.
    “Go back to the house, Jennifer Ann. And don’t ever come out here alone again.” The harshness in his voice was all she heard. She was too blinded by the pain to see the shattered expression in his eyes.
    “Go to hell,” she said softly, as she walked past him.
    “I already have, Jenny. I already have,” he whispered, as he watched her walking away.
    She walked into the sunlight and out of his life.

    The next two months were hell. Jenny darted from one beau to the next with butterflylike persistence. Frenzy seemed the norm.
    But Juana knew differently. She’d seen Jenny’s face the day she’d come back from the barns. She’d picked the last bit of straw off her back as she’d passed through the kitchen. The bitter, sardonic smile that had been on Jenny’s lips had shocked her. Whatever had happened between her girl and the foreman was obviously over.
    Juana also heard complaints from the men about the quiet anger that Chance was letting fester. He was at once swiftly critical of everything and everyone, and then instantly furious with himself for losing control. Everyone was walking on eggshells and Marcus Tyler seemed to be the only one oblivious to the reason.
    It was Marcus’s weekly meeting with Chance that stopped their cycle of self-destruction and nearly erupted in chaos. It took every ounce of dignity and self-control Chance had left, not to kill the man Jenny walked in with just as the meeting was coming to an end.
    “Marcus,” Jenny said, “Nelson