Chances Are by Erica Spindler Read Free Book Online Page A

God?"
    She was weird, nuts, cuckoo. He reached out and tenderly touched her rain wet cheek. "We're being drenched, and you're babbling about God. Come on, let's go in."
    Veronique laughed and held her ground. "Well, do you?" she pressed. "Believe in a higher power?"
    "Yes. Satisfied?" He could see she wasn't and groaned. In a gesture of resignation, he lifted his eyes heavenward. What did it matter? He couldn't get any wetter. At least the downpour had slowed to a steady rain.
    "I need more champagne," she announced. "How about you?"
    "Why not?" He leaned against the whitewashed siding; his eyes crinkled at the corners as he watched her. Her sodden gown dragged the ground as she sashayed down the balcony. She grabbed the bottle, dumped the rainwater from the glass and refilled it with wine. She sipped, then made a face. "Flat, warm and watery."
    "Mr. Rhodes?"
    Brandon glanced at the doorway. It was the waiter, carrying a fresh bottle of champagne. His expression was horrified.
    "You said to check on you..." The man's voice trailed off. "Shall I leave this?"
    Brandon made a small fluttering motion with his right hand. "No. Thank you for—"
    "Yes," Veronique inserted firmly, and stepped forward. "We'll take it." She took the new bottle from the tray and set the old one in its place.
    "Yes, of course. Well, I..." The waiter cleared his throat, his eyes racing between the two of them. He obviously thought them both insane. "Perhaps I could get you some towels?"
    "No."
    "Yes." The waiter coughed, and Brandon repeated the affirmative. "Yes. Some towels, please."
    "I like being wet," Veronique said after the man had left. She wrestled with the cork. "I used to sneak out when it started to rain—Maman would think I was playing quietly in my room—and I'd roll in the wet grass, sail boats in mud puddles and generally make a mess of myself."
    "Here, let me." Brandon took the bottle from her hands and popped the cork. It sailed into the air, and the wine bubbled over the lip of the bottle. He poured a glass and handed it to her. "First of all, I can't imagine you playing quietly in your room. Secondly, didn't your mother ever catch on?"
    "She's a sweet, trusting soul." Veronique's nose twitched as she took a sip of the effervescent liquid. "Besides, the housekeeper had a soft spot for dirty little hoydens. She'd hustle me upstairs and clean me up before Maman, or worse, Grandfather Jerome, caught sight of me."
    Brandon thought of the forbidding Jerome Delacroix and winced. His father and Jerome had had business dealings, but he'd never trusted the man or understood why his father did. And he couldn't imagine Veronique living in the same house with him. "How long did you live with Jerome?"
    "Until I was thirteen." She handed him the half-full glass. "Then Maman inherited her house. No one could convince me that where you live doesn't make a difference. Our lives changed drastically for the better. What's your story?"
    Brandon shrugged. "Military school. Harvard Business. I was a page in the Mardi Gras court of Rex when I was twelve..." His voice trailed off as he thought of his father and the contents of the safety deposit box. Suddenly frustrated, he ran both hands through his dripping hair. "I don't have any bad-boy stories to tell. I've never been crazy. Or disrespectful. Or irresponsible. Dammit, I feel like being irresponsible." He looked up at the clearing sky, then over at Veronique. "I feel like taking chances."
    Empathy, warmth... genuine liking poured out of her for him. Veronique's eyes met his. "You've come to the right place. I specialize in irresponsible; chance taking is my forte." She arched one delicate eyebrow. "Would you like me to show you?"
    Brandon's eyes met hers a moment before he laughed. "Let's have some fun."
    Her lips curved into a wicked smile. "Are you prepared to accept the consequences?"
    "Which are?"
    "Well," she began, "it depends on the agenda, but you can count on a killer headache tomorrow, an empty