CHANCES ARE: A SECOND CHANCE

Copyright © JULIA TEMPLETON, 2006

All Rights Reserved, Ellora's Cave Publishing, Inc.

Deanie stared at the man before her, then scanned the room once more. She had woken just moments ago to strange surroundings and now this gorgeous hunk of a man was saying he was her husband.but in name only.

It must be a dream, and a damned realistic one at that, because the dark-haired man with shoulder-length hair was dressed in nineteenth century attire, complete with waistcoat, cravat and well-worn Hessians. He even walked with a cane and she guessed it wasn't for fashion, but necessity, since he had a slight limp. He even spoke with a pleasant British accent.

He looked like a hero straight out of a Jane Austen novel.

"You should return to bed," said the gorgeous man as he turned the doorknob.

Reaching forward, Deanie placed her hand over his, stilling the movement.

He jerked away as though her touch had burned him.

Not a good sign. Trying hard not to be offended, she took a step away from him and instantly he relaxed.

He despised her. She could see it in his beautiful forest green eyes as he stared at her as though she was crazy.

Man, but he was gorgeous! His amazing full lips pursed as though he had to fight to keep from telling her to fuck off. And his hair was luscious. Sexy and a bit ruffled. Those rich dark locks looked like silk. Probably felt like silk too, she thought, wishing she could run her fingers through it.

"Since you are once again the picture of health, I shall be returning to my estate."

"Don't go! I need you here. I need to understand what's going on."

His green eyes narrowed even more. "What is there to understand, Abigail? You fell from a carriage and hurt yourself. I was summoned here because your father thought you were dying. As that is not the case, I shall leave London posthaste. There is no reason for me to stay here now."

Why was he calling her Abigail and what was this bit about a carriage? She looked around the opulent room with a huge four-poster bed, plush furnishings and ridiculously tall ceilings. She was definitely dreaming about another time and place, because there wasn't a place in Seattle like this. And she would know. She'd been selling real estate in the greater Seattle area for twenty years.

"I don't want you to leave," she said, shocked at how much she meant it. If this was a dream, she wanted to play it out. After all, she was in an elegant bedroom that looked like something out of a dream. The one thing she would change is this guy's attitude toward her. She'd been told she could flirt with the best of them and now she poured on the charm. She took the step that separated them and rested a hand on his shoulder. "Stay with me."