Free Cinderella and the Playboy by Lois Faye Dyer Page B

want to go out?”
    The big rottweiler barked, one sharp, approving sound that made Chance wince.
    “Not so loud, buddy,” he muttered. “I’m getting up.”
    He tossed back the sheet and sat on the edge of the bed.
    Butch barked again and nosed the sheet a few inchesfrom Chance’s hip, burrowing beneath the sheet until his head was out of sight beneath white cotton.
    “Hey, cut that out.” Chance tossed the sheet aside. Silver glittered and he pulled the sheet aside to find a necklace peeking out from under the pillow. He grabbed the chain and locket just before Butch could reach it. A low whine rumbled from the dog’s throat and his brown eyes were reproachful. “Oh, come on.” Chance ran his hand over Butch’s head and scratched him behind his ear. “You know this is Jennifer’s. And you know you’re not supposed to have it.”
    Butch plopped down on his haunches and eyed the locket, dangling by its chain from Chance’s fingers.
    The oval-shaped locket had a delicate latch. Chance felt as if his fingers were giant-size as he carefully maneuvered the tiny mechanism. The locket opened and he held it on his palm. One side held a photograph of a little girl, her impish face smiling up at him. The other half held a tiny curl of auburn hair, gleaming brightly against the silver metal.
    Cute kid. I wonder who she is? He ran the pad of his index finger over the small, bright curl. And I wonder if this is her hair?
    He had no answers, but he was going to ask Jennifer as soon as he saw her again. There were lots of things he wanted to know about her. Their one date—and the best sex he’d ever shared—had only led him to be more intrigued about her.
    Butch whined and nudged his damp nose against Chance’s knee.
    “Okay, big guy,” Chance told him. “I’ll let you out.”
    He grabbed his jeans from the closet and pulled them on. Then he jogged barefoot down the stairs and through the kitchen to open the back door. Butch barreled happily past him and out into the small backyard.
    “I’ve got to teach him better manners,” Chance muttered to himself. He turned back into the kitchen to make coffee—and wondered if Jennifer was thinking of him, as he was thinking of her.
     
    Jennifer stepped out of the silk slacks and folded them atop the hamper. She knew by the label that the slacks had probably cost more than her monthly salary, the nubby raw silk pure tactile pleasure to touch.
    I’ll drop them at the cleaners after work tomorrow, she thought. Along with the top. Then I’ll mail them back to Chance.
    She pulled the tank off over her head, folding it neatly atop the slacks, before she turned on the sink taps. Cupping her hands, she splashed cool water on her face, reaching blindly for a handtowel. She blotted moisture from her skin before tugging the band from her ponytail. As it pulled free and let her hair tumble about her shoulders, she ran her fingertip over the base of her throat. The gesture was pure habit. She’d worn the locket with Annie’s picture and lock of hair since her daughter was born.
    But this time…the chain wasn’t there.
    Dismayed, Jennifer stared with consternation at her reflection in the mirror. She knew she’d been wearing it earlier in the day when she’d dressed to go out to brunch. Frowning, she mentally reviewed the afternoon and realized that the last time she’d noticed the locket was after they’d returned to the town house. Chance had rushed her upstairs and stripped off their clothes before tossing her on the bed. He’d joined her immediately and she remembered the slide of cool metal over her skin when Chance’s lips brushed the locket aside, replacing it with his mouth.
    Maybe I lost it in his bed, she thought. She hoped the locket had ended up tangled in Chance’s sheets rather than broken and lost on the street or the bus.
    She would have to call Chance and ask if he’d found her missing locket. Misgiving warred with delight at the thought. She wasn’t