Welcome to Last Chance (Last Chance #1)(32)
Author: Hope Ramsay

Jane walked into the kitchen and snapped off the radio. She needed to concentrate on what she wanted out of life, not some fantasy. So she picked up a piece of notebook paper resting on the kitchen table and scanned the lyrics to “I Will Always Love You.”

She took several deep breaths and concentrated on relaxing the muscles in her neck and jaw. Then she reached for her “head voice” and worked on supporting it deep down in her diaphragm just the way her high-school music teacher had taught her.

She began singing a cappella. That was better. When she sang, she could keep her loneliness and her disappointment at bay and channel her deepest fears and desires and emotions into the song itself.

Clay was still trying to get Miriam’s words out of his head as he pulled his Windstar into a parking spot right in front of the Kountry Kitchen. He stepped out into a bright October day, but he had no energy to enjoy the weather. All he could think about was sleep. And since he had no intention of going home and getting caught in a cat fight between the hormonal Tricia and the desperate Ricki, he intended to nap on the couch in Pete’s office.

Clay was heading up the street toward the hardware store when he heard music, and it entered his ears, and knocked around his brain, and messed up his mind. He stood there planning to turn right and slip his key into the lock on the front door of the store, but instead he turned left and looked up at the open windows above the Cut ’n Curl.

The wind lifted the yellow gingham and carried the sound of Jane’s voice to him. Like a Siren of old, she beckoned him toward shipwreck. The sound pulled and tugged at him, reminding him that there was a bed in the apartment above the Cut ’n Curl, and, more important, a pair of arms that would hold him tight. He wanted to rest in the circle of Jane’s arms, like he’d rested against her last night.

Clay wanted to follow the music. But danger lay in that direction. Jane was trouble. Stone had made that pretty clear last night, and Clay already had too many things to worry about.

He forced himself to turn right and slipped his key into the hardware store’s lock. The wind blew, and the sound of Jane’s voice carried. He stopped and rested his head against the cool of the windowpane and listened. She had learned that song real well. Her phrasing was perfect. When she got to the words about how she wasn’t what he needed, he yanked the key out of the lock and turned around.

Shoot. Who said she wasn’t what he needed? He needed that girl like a starving man needed bread. He needed her in a way he’d never needed anyone in his life.

But he also cared about what had happened in that hotel room in Lexington. Something terrible happened there. He needed to know the truth.

He hurried across the street and took the fire escape steps two at a time. Then he stood there on the other side of the door listening to her sweet, sweet voice. Man oh man, she could sing. And when she sang, it was like the sound of angels.

He waited until she finished the song, and then he pounded on her door like a madman.

Jane nearly jumped out of her skin when someone pounded on the door. Her first fear was that Woody had found her, and then she saw Clayton P. Rhodes silhouetted against the shirred curtains. It was not a calming sight.

Jane opened the door a crack and peered out at him. He stood there on the landing looking like some cross between an ice cream sundae, something the cat dragged home, and the big bad wolf. She wanted to eat him up, open her arms and take care of him, and slam the door in his face and go cower in the bathroom.

“I’m sorry,” Clay muttered. “I… uh… heard you singing, and I…”

“Did you get any sleep last night?”

“Nope. Not one wink.”

“Were you able to rescue Ray, at least?” Jane asked, forcing the conversation in that direction just to remind herself where she stood in his list of priorities.

He shook his head. “Nope. I didn’t accomplish that, either. Ray confessed to the crime. His lawyers and the prosecutor are arguing now about which group home to send him to.” His voice wavered a little, and she watched the tendons work in his neck. He was at the end of his emotional rope. She tried not to empathize too much with him on that score.

She failed.

“But I know he didn’t steal that money,” Clay said in a grim voice. “I just need time to figure out how to prove he’s innocent.”

The man had complete faith in his friend. Her throat got tight thinking about that. What would it be like to have someone to watch her back like that?

And the sheer seduction of that thought made her firm her resolve. She needed Clay to back off. She needed to back off. Someone was going to get hurt, and Jane didn’t want to be the one. “I’m sorry, Clay, but—”

He put his hand on the door and pushed back on it, forcing her to step deeper into the room. “Here’s a news flash for you: For some reason I can’t explain, I believe in your innocence, too. Let me in.”

Jane pushed back on the door. “My innocence? Jeez, Clay, thanks. Last night you told me I was a mistake you were about to make, and now you think I’m innocent. You need to get your—”

“Listen to me, for once! I don’t believe you killed anyone in Lexington. I just want to know the truth. And then I want to crash on your couch. And after that, I have a long agenda of stuff that I want, starting with your body.”

“No,” Jane said, a wave of real fear washing through her. She pushed harder on the door, trying to push him out of her apartment—out of her life.

“No?” Clay pushed back. He gave her a boyish grin that melted a little piece of her heart. He was in flirt mode now. She hated him for turning on the charm like that.

“Letting you in would be a dumb idea,” Jane said.

“Why? After the kiss last night, I thought you were hot for me. I’m hot for you, Jane. I admit it. I’m weak.”

“You’re the one who said it would be a mistake. I concur.”

“Yeah. So why’d you chase me out into the alley last night? Why’d you bring ice for my hand? Why’d you kiss me back?”

“Temporary insanity.”

“Okay, you win. Let’s be friends.”

“Friends?”

“Uh-huh. Friends. You can tell me the truth, I’ll forgive you, and then I can crash on the couch.”

“Don’t you have a home to go to somewhere?”

“Yeah,” he said in a tired voice. “I’ve got two ex-girlfriends living at my house. My mother is not speaking to me because I broke Stone’s nose. That leaves either your couch or the lumpy sofa at the store. For obvious reasons, your couch sounds way more comfortable.”

Okay, she could resist this. “Gee thanks, Clay, you really know how to court a woman. And about those women. What are you going to do about Tricia?”

“I have no idea. She wants me to be her child’s daddy, seeing as the biological father is an a-hole. But, you know, it’s not my kid.”

“Well, that shouldn’t matter, if you love her.”

“Maybe not. But in this case, she’s in love with the jerk who got her pregnant, and that kind of ruins it for me, ya know? But she says I’m her best friend, and we should get married.”

“Gee, Clay, didn’t I hear from Ray that you had a list and were looking for a nice wife?”

“This is the man who thinks your name is April. You shouldn’t listen to him.”

The fact that Ray knew she had posed for those photos was precisely the reason she should listen to him. Ray might be a little weird, but he was smarter than people gave him credit for.

Jane inched her chin up. “I’ll listen to Ray if I want to. And I saw his list. It had all these women on it, and my score—or to be more precise April’s score—was low. I seem to have failed most of his tests.”

“Jeez. You saw that stupid list? Look, I’ve given up on that plan. It’s not working out.”

“No?” She pushed back but didn’t budge the door an inch.

“No, it’s not. I’ve decided to follow Miz Miriam’s plan instead.”

She went cold. “What did Miriam Randall tell you?”

“I take it from your tone of voice that you have learned all about Miriam and her predictions.”

“I have. The old lady told me I needed to hold out for a knight in shining armor, and you don’t look like one of those. So in a way, I’m following Miriam’s plan. She told me to ask for more and not to settle.”

“She told you that?”

“Yes, she did.” Jane pushed back on the door.

Clay met her resistance with relentless pressure of his own. He was going to get through this door. The only question was whether he was going to walk through it as her lover or her friend.

“Well,” he said, “Miriam told me that my soulmate would arrive on the nine-thirty bus from Atlanta. And that makes you a possible candidate for my soulmate. Miriam says this is all part of the Lord’s plan.”

“The Lord’s plan?” Her voice squeaked.

“Yes, ma’am. But if I understand Miriam correctly, she seems to think the Lord’s plan is the same as the Universe’s plan. Although I’m not entirely sure on the absolute theology of this, on account of the fact that I haven’t had that much sleep.”

“Miriam Randall told you that she understands about the Universe?” Jane let the door go, and Clay stepped right into the apartment and closed the door behind him.

Oh, crap, she’d let him in, and she wasn’t certain whether he’d come as a lover, or a friend, or some horny guy, or some honorable man bent on rescuing her.

“Well,” Clay said, looking down at her out of bleary eyes, “I don’t rightly know. But she is of the opinion that you haven’t fallen far from the Lord.”

The minute the words left Clay’s mouth he realized his mistake. Jane whirled away from him and made a beeline toward the bathroom. If she ever got to that door, she’d lock herself in, and he’d never get another opportunity to break down her barriers.

Of course, he wasn’t quite sure why the barriers had appeared. Last night, he could have sworn the woman was hot for him. But the temperature in this room was approaching absolute zero.

Oh, crap. He needed to face the fact that he had a crazy, mixed-up, reckless, and immaturely romantic urge to take care of Jane, and not because she was running from something ugly. Down deep he had this feeling—this crazy hope, really—that Jane might want to take care of him right back. And that crazy hope led him to the unfounded conclusion that if the two of them could get the taking-care-of-each-other thing down, nature would take care of everything else.

So Clay chased after her, and because he had longer legs, he caught up with her before she could reach the bathroom to lock herself in.

“Whoa, now,” Clay said as he grabbed her upper arm, making sure he didn’t grab it too tight, or too hard, or in any way that she might find threatening.

But grabbing Jane was kind of a threat, and she tried to escape his grasp. He had to use both hands on her shoulders and yank her around so that he stood between her and the bathroom door.