Jill Shalvis - Chance Encounter

The third book in the Men of Chance series, 2001

Dear Reader,

Theres nothing more sexy than a hero who knows his own mind and isnt afraid to speak it. T. J. Chance is definitely one of those men: confident, gorgeous, not to mention ready, able and willing.

Ally Wheeler admires these qualities, and though shes naturally not superconfident herself, nor ready, able and willing, shes hoping to learn. From Chance.

Only, Chance doesnt want to teach Ally to walk on the wild side. He doesnt want to do anything with her, especially fall in love, which is exactly what happens. Hope you enjoy this last installment of the MEN OF CHANCE miniseries!

Jill Shalvis

P.S. You can write to me c/o Harlequin, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario, M3B 3K9, Canada.

YOURE FIRED.

What? Ally meant to sound fierce but she might as well have been a squeaky mouse. Youcant do that.

Oh, yes, I can. Professor Langley Weatherby III, every bit the antiquated snob his name suggested, peered over his small wire-rimmed spectacles. Youre no longer a librarian at this university, Ms. Wheeler. Consider yourself officially unemployed.

But- Ally loved her work, loved everything about it, the feel of the glorious old books in her hands, the scent of aging paper, the pleasure of helping students soak up all that knowledge.

And the silence, most of all she loved the silence.

Well give you two weeks severance pay, the professor said. More than generous, given the scandal.

Ah, yes, the scandal. Not that anyone had let her forget it for one moment. It hadnt been her fault, and feeling her throat burn, she swiped at the moisture in her eyes, as if flicking away a pesky piece of lint instead of her hopes and dreams.

The professor let out a heavy sigh and thrust a handkerchief beneath her nose. You do see our position, he said gruffly, but with slightly less antagonism. We cant let you stay now.

It was hard to believe that little Miss Goody-Two-shoes had gotten herself into so much trouble. First with the professor, then the head of the school himself, and finally, when no one had believed Allys story, with the authorities. Shed even had an eventful ride to the San Francisco police station for questioning, an experience that would surely headline her nightmares for the rest of her life.

Ironic, since in all of her nearly twenty-six years shed never so much as been sent to the principals office. But Thomas was the one who stole the classics, she said for at least the hundredth time.

They were priceless first edition literary classics that had been at our university for decades, Ms. Wheeler. Your boyfriend used your special clearance to steal them.

But what would she do without her job? Her heart and soul were embedded in these brick walls, because here she wasnt mousy Ally. Here she was important. She belonged.

This decision is final.

She wouldnt beg. With her stomach somewhere near the vicinity of her feet, she stood, lifted her chin to the level of the professors aristocratic nose, and walked out of her beloved library for the last time. She passed the biology building, the Social Studies Hall and the Student Union before moving toward the park, her second favorite place on earth. Here was where she left her car every morning, so at the end of a day filled with books, she could unwind by feeding the squirrels.

Fired. Fired. Fired. The word rang in her head.

Well, if being let go was the worst thing to ever happen to her, then so be it. So shed been forced to leave the best job shed ever had. Shed survive. Probably.

But where was her car? Craning her neck, she looked to the right, then to the left- Oh, no.

Had she really thought her day couldnt get worse?

Her fifteen-year-old tomato-red Escort coupe, temperamental and spunky at the best of times-of which this wasnt-was gone all right. It had rolled down the steep hill.

And smashed into a plush, very new-looking BMW sports car.

HER ANSWERING MACHINE had just clicked on when Ally wearily made her way into her apartment.

Ally? came a cranky, smoke-ladened voice. I know youre there, pick up the phone this instant!

I dont think so, she said, grateful to have avoided Mrs. Snipps, landlady from hell.

Listen missy, I sold the building.

Ally dropped her purse and stared at the machine.

Im retiring to the Bahamas.

Ally sank to her couch.

And you have until next month to get out, the cragly voice continued. Six weeks. Dont cause me any trouble, girl.

At the sound of the dial tone, Ally let out a choked laugh. Trouble? she muttered. Its only my middle name. She was jobless, and now soon to be homeless as well. Not to mention the major dent her car had put into that brand-spanking-new BMW. She had insurance, but she also had a very high deductible that might as well be a million dollars for all her ability to pay it.

Another mirthless laugh escaped. Her life was not only over, it was pitiful.

The phone rang again.

What now? Dammit, she was tired. Tired of jumping at the sound of the telephone, tired of being insecure and mousy all the time. Suddenly mad, she straightened on the couch.

No more doormat, she decided as she yanked up the receiver. Hello! And because being forceful felt so good, she added, Who is this and what do you want?

Its Thomas.

At the sound of the confident masculine voice, her nearly nonexistent temper exploded. How dare he call after destroying her life. You! You- You big jerk! Oh great. Was you big jerk the biggest insult she could come up with?

Listen, Ally, he said quickly. A strange clinking sound came over the phone. I need you to get me a lawyer. Like yesterday.

What had she seen in this guy?

But she already knew the answer to that, painful as it was to admit. He was a gorgeous, smooth, elegant man whod noticed her. Unlike everyone else in her life, he hadnt needed her money-little as there was-he hadnt required her mothering skills, hadnt wanted anything from her excepther. More than that, hed given her attention.

How pathetic was that? Hed made plain Ally Wheeler-of average height, average weight, average hair and eyes-feel beautiful.

Itd taken awhile for the stars to clear from her eyes. Only then had she been able to see Thomas for the user and con man that he was, though not in time to save her job, or the librarys classics.

No, I wont get you a lawyer, she said, winding up to let loose some of her pent-up feelings. And another thing-

Officer Daniel here, a strange voice said in her ear. Times up.

Ally stared at the phone and for the first time in days let out a genuine laugh. Thomas had called from jail, in handcuffs if the clanking noise meant anything. Wasnt life just one big excitement after another?

NO JOB CAME THROUGH. Thanks to the ruthless rumors about Allys involvement with the priceless missing volumes, no library in the entire state would touch her. And nothing could soften the cold, hard facts. She had little to no savings, three sisters in college counting on her financial help, elderly parents on a fixed income, and she was staring poverty in the face.

She needed a job, any job. Without one, who would rent her a place to live? Her sisters were all settled in dorms. Her parents, whod had their kids late in life, lived in a senior center. She had no one to turn to.

It was then that the letter came. Lucy was Allys mothers second cousin by marriage, and though they didnt get to see each other often, they corresponded regularly. Lucys weekly letters from Wyoming, where she ran a mountain resort, were always the exciting highlight of Allys day. Just a month ago, thered been a terrible fire, and Lucy had been crushed at the loss of over one hundred acres of lush landscape. Theyd written each other frequently since then, with Ally doing her best to cheer up Lucy.