Chances Are by Erica Spindler Read Free Book Online Page B

wallet tonight and lots and lots of regrets."
    His smile answered hers. "Where do we start?"
    "Right here." Veronique took the glass from his hands, downed the champagne, then set it aside. "First rule, wild people rarely drink champagne, but when they do, it's right from the bottle."
    "No problem there," Brandon said, and held the bottle to his lips. Because of the fizz, it was like drinking Coke from the bottle, but with a lot more kick. "Now what?"
    "Now we exit this dead party and go have some fun." She rubbed her hands together. "I know this place that—"
    "Excuse me, Mr. Rhodes, madam, your towels."
    Veronique eyed the man speculatively as she took one of the towels. "Is there a way out of here besides the ballroom?"
    The waiter blinked, as if surprised by the question. "Only through the kitchen, but—"
    "Perfect," she interrupted, her tone crisp and businesslike. "Can you show us?" When the man nodded, she grabbed Brandon's hand. "Come on. Don't forget the wine."
    The waiter led them back into the ballroom from the darkest side of the balcony. Veronique glanced around and grinned. Even skirting along the edges of the room, they were drawing attention.
    "I'm disillusioned," Brandon whispered as the waiter ducked through a door tucked in a deserted corner. "I thought wild people would parade right through the middle of the ballroom."
    "No way," she whispered back, sticking close to their guide. "Then they'd all know what we were doing. Sneaking out is so much more effective. The few who saw us will spread the word, and everyone will wonder what we were up to. Conjecture and hearsay are far more dangerous than the truth."
    As she finished speaking, they stepped into the kitchen. It was a beehive of activity. Waiters rushed in and out, depositing empty trays, then picking up freshly-filled ones. The cooks mixed, checked and arranged. The caterers hovered and fussed, barking out an occasional order or curse.
    They didn't draw as much attention as she would have expected, considering what they must look like. Both caterers shot them nasty glances; she heard one of the dishwashers mutter, "Crazy rich folks."
    Their waiter-guide stopped at a gray metal door with an exit sign above it and held out his hand. Brandon dug in his pocket and pulled out a bill. "It's wet," he murmured apologetically.
    "It'll dry." The young man smiled as he slipped the bill into his pocket, then turned and walked away.
    "Ready?" Brandon asked, hand on the doorknob.
    "Yes... no... wait." Veronique breathed deeply and sighed. "I just noticed something. It smells incredible in here." Her stomach rumbled. "I haven't eaten. How about you?"
    "No, but—"
    "I suspect we can scrounge something up." She was wandering toward the counters covered with trays before she'd even finished speaking.
    Minutes later Veronique sighed and licked her fingers. "A feast," she said as she finished one hor d'oeuvre and eyed the platter heaped with mushrooms stuffed with crabmeat, crawfish pastries, delicately seasoned shrimp and a countless variety of canapes. "I'm in heaven."
    Brandon watched her lick one finger after another. Desire hit him with the force of a hurricane hitting land. He wanted to take her hand and clean the juices from those fingers himself. Saying the first thing that came to mind, he tried to push away the erotic images flooding his head.
    "Speaking of heaven, why did you ask me if I believed in God?"
    The canape stopped halfway to her lips. Her laughing eyes met his. "Because, for whatever reason, we weren't meant to kiss. Fate, destiny, the gods were working against our lips meeting."
    His eyes rested on her mouth, damp from her own tongue. "That's the silliest thing I've ever heard."
    "Not at all." She popped the hors d'oeuvre into her mouth and immediately picked out another. "It wasn't meant to be. I'm a great believer in—"
    Without warning, he tumbled her into his arms. Her startled brown eyes met his determined gray. "Believe in this," he