Twice the Chance. Darlene Gardner

that nothing would happen between them.

      A giggle that didn’t sound masculine traveled through the town house.

      “It’s so nice of you to do this for Carter.” The low-pitched female voice preceded Matt and his guests into the kitchen. Its owner had luxurious long black hair and a bra size Jazz guessed was double D, and she was probably no older than thirty. Her pale pink sundress wasn’t particularly short or tight but showcased her to voluptuous advantage.

      She stood inches away from an average-looking man at least twenty years her senior, his thinning hair parted on the side and swept over his bald spot. The man held his chin high, and a smug smile played about his lips.

      Matt’s own smile no longer reached his eyes. “Jazz, this is Carter and Kelly.”

      “Her name’s Callie,” Carter corrected.

      “Spelled with a C.” The woman formed a semicircle with her thumb and index finger.

      “Sorry,” Matt said.

      “Don’t worry about it. I’ll answer to anything, even, ‘Hey, you!’” Callie laughed again. She was nervous, Jazz realized. She was also pretty definitely not Carter’s estranged wife. “I really like your name, Jazz.”

      “Thanks,” Jazz said. Matt stood stiffly, saying nothing. “I’m the caterer,” Jazz added.

      Matt found his voice. “A friend who happens to be a caterer.”

      Was that how Matt thought of her when they’d only known each other a little more than a month? In the three years she’d been out of prison, Jazz had made a number of acquaintances but nobody she’d call a friend, except possibly Sadie.

      “A caterer, huh?” Carter released a low whistle and slapped Matt lightly on the back. “I didn’t know I rated that high.”

      “Are you kidding? I owe you.” Matt sounded more like his normal self.

      “For what?” Carter retorted.

      “The job recommendation.”

      Carter snorted. “Bull. You’ll be named A.D. even if I didn’t lobby for you.”

      “A.D.? Isn’t that short for athletic director?” Jazz had intended to fade into the anonymity of the catering job but couldn’t let the comment pass. “I thought Matt was the high school soccer coach.”

      “He is in the spring. And he’s doing wonderful things with the program,” Carter said. “But Matt’s destined for greater things. Right now he’s the interim A.D. but he’s the favorite for the top job.”

      “I learned from the best,” Matt said, turning his head to address Jazz. “Carter just resigned as A.D.”

      “I’m leaving the athletic program in good hands.” Carter gave Matt a hearty slap on the back. “Matt’s a golden boy who gets things done. He probably even managed to talk some people into showing up today for my party.”

      An uneasy current ran beneath the smooth words. Callie fidgeted, appearing even more uncomfortable. Jazz wondered what was going on.

      “Of course people will come,” Matt said.

      “People from my golf league,” Carter countered. “Good thinking inviting them.”

      “No problem,” Matt said. “If I ever want to join, I’ll have an in.”

      “The league doesn’t play in the summer, buddy,” Carter said. “If you get the A.D. job, that’s the only season you’ll have time to breathe.”

      “Excuse me.” Jazz didn’t need to stick around and listen to more evidence that Matt was a responsible person. “These hors d’ouevres have to go in the oven.”

      That was the truth. Once the guests started arriving, her plan was to provide a steady supply of warm appetizers.

      “Hey, Matt. Before I forget, can you show me that new putter you got?” Carter asked. “I’m planning to play a lot of golf in Florida.”

      “Sure,” Matt said. “My golf bag’s in the shed out back.”

      “I’ll come with you.” Carter turned to Callie. “Honey, will you be okay for a few minutes without me?”

      “I guess,” Callie said.

      Carter kissed Callie on the lips before heading with Matt for the French doors that led to the backyard. The town house was situated perfectly for a party, with a deck overlooking a good-sized yard flanked by evergreens. The temperature was in the low seventies and the sun was shining; ideal outdoor weather. Yet Callie stayed in the kitchen with Jazz.

      “The food looks great,” Callie said in her soft voice when the men were gone. “But if I don’t watch, my butt blows up like a hot-air balloon.”

      Jazz laughed. “I doubt that. But there’s fruit, if you want it.”

      “Not my thing. Unless the fruit’s covered in chocolate.” Callie sat down on one of the tall stools beside the breakfast bar and Jazz got a whiff of perfume. Callie remained quiet for long moments before drawing an audible breath. “Can I ask you something, Jazz?”

      The way Callie phrased the question made Jazz long to say no. She hesitated. “Go ahead.”

      “Did it seem like Matt didn’t know about me?”

      Oh, yeah.

      Jazz lowered the oven temperature. She wanted the food warm, not overdone. “Why do you ask?”

      “Carter’s the best boyfriend I ever had.” Callie rolled her eyes. “I mean, moving to Florida’s not costing me a dime. But I had to fuss up a storm before he’d agree to bring me today.”

      The doorbell rang again, a timely interruption.

      Callie rose from the stool. “I’ll get it.”

      Jazz wasn’t about to fight her for the honor. She opened the oven door and removed the cookie sheet. Using a wide spatula, she transferred the food onto the pretty serving trays she’d found at a yard sale, the way she’d acquired most of her better kitchen supplies.

      She heard voices, some belonging to children. Brooke and Robbie? Don’t panic, she told herself. The party was for Matt’s friends, not his family. One of the guys from Carter’s golf league probably had children.

      “Uncle Matt! Look what Dad bought me!” Robbie dashed into the kitchen carrying a soccer ball draped with netting.

      Jazz’s heart thudded so hard she felt nauseous. Inside the house, Robbie’s hair didn’t look as red as it had in the sun but his skin appeared more pale, his eyes greener. His coloring reminded Jazz of a photo her grandmother had kept of herself as a child.

      The young boy scanned the kitchen. “Where’s Uncle Matt?”

      Brooke followed her brother into the kitchen, humming an unrecognizable tune and doubling the visual punch. Jazz braced a hand on the counter to steady herself.

      “Your uncle’s out back with Carter.” Callie had reentered the kitchen, although Jazz hadn’t noticed until she spoke.

      Brooke stayed in the kitchen, peering at Jazz. “Aren’t you the lady from the park?”

      “What lady?” asked a plump brunette who must have been their mother. Her curly brown hair was pulled back from a round, pretty face. She looked nothing like the children in either coloring or stature.

      “I remember you,” Robbie said to Jazz. “You’re the lady who fell!”

      “Hi, I’m Terry. Matt’s sister.” Terry’s dark eyes crinkled at the corners when she smiled, exactly like her brother’s. “Matt didn’t tell us he was dating anyone.”

      “We’re not dating,” Jazz said quickly. “I’m Jazz, the caterer.”

      “Then