Free Chance (The One More Night Series) by Christina Ross Page A

laptop, brought up a browser, and went to Google.
    “My Internet powers of steel are about to be revealed,” she said.
    “Just because you work in IT doesn’t mean you have Internet powers of steel,” I said.
    “The hell it doesn’t.  Watch me.  What’s his name?”
    “He only said his last name when he introduced himself to Steve before all of that went to hell, but I think he said that it was ‘Caldwell’.”
    “Chance Caldwell has a nice ring to it, so Chance Caldwell it is.  Let’s do an image search first.  If you recognize him, then we’ll know that we have the right name.”
    When she typed his name into the computer and pressed enter, what appeared on the screen were hundreds of photos of him, from photos at black-tie events to shirtless photos taken on a tropical island.  And it seemed that the only time he didn’t have a woman on his arm were in those few images in which he was being interviewed.
    “Is that him?” Elle asked as she leaned toward the screen.  She was standing over Brooke’s left shoulder.  “If it is, holy mother of God is he hot.”
    “That’s him,” I said.
    “And he got all drunk in love over you ?”
    “I may have gone sexually dormant over the past year, Beyoncé, but I still have feminine wiles you can’t even wrap your head around.  And yes he did.”
    “Why do I want to lick the screen?” Brooke asked.  “I mean, look at him in this photo.  Look at that body.  That chest, that face, those abs.  Pure candy.  The photo is captioned ‘Caldwell International CEO, Chance Caldwell, in Martinique’.  Who’s the woman he’s with?”
    Just seeing him again was enough to make goose bumps come alive along my arms.  His light blue eyes were almost too much for me to bear—they were one of his best features.  And then there were his lips, which I remembered all too well, likely because of all of the places they’d been last night. 
    “How would I know?” I said.
    “This guy is a total player,” Elle said.  “How else do you explain how many women he’s been photographed with?  Pure one-night-stand material.”  She gave me a look of approval.  “Good for you, Abby.  With a guy like that, you can enjoy everything that happened between you, but move on with your heart intact.”
    I wondered whether I could.  Even though I knew that I’d never see Chance again, I couldn’t help but feel a sting of disappointment, which I’d never admit to the girls because they’d just razz me over it.  After all, it was he who suggested that hooking up with other women wasn’t his thing.  So, why were there so many photos of him on the Internet with other women?  He’d also suggested that last night could become something more than just a one-night stand.  Had that been a lie, too?
    I decided that I’d never know. 
    Best to let it go. 
    Still, I was curious about who this man was, so I placed my hand on Brooke’s shoulder.  “Enough of the photos,” I said.  “Let’s find out who he is.  What’s Caldwell International all about?  Can you look it up?”
    “Just allow me to linger over that body of his for a few more minutes—”
    “Look it up, Brooke.”
    “Settle down.  You’re such a possessive one-nighter.”
    “I’m not possessive.  I’m just interested in finding out about the man who was on top of me last night.”
    “And inside of you.”
    “That’s right.”
    I watched Elle take the mouse from Brooke’s hand and click on a photograph of Chance in a dark business suit.  He looked like a damned model to me.  Why did I feel such a pull toward him?  It made no sense to me.  We’d had a wonderful, no-strings evening together, but that’s all it was, so what was my problem?  Emotionally, I needed to accept last night for what it was, and forget about what he may or may not have suggested during his conversations with me.
    “OK—moving on.  Somebody look up Caldwell International.”
    When Brooke did, we learned