The One Real Regret

by Janet Nissenson

  He’d been busier than ever the last four or five days, working twelve to fourteen hours a day, and was often too tired to eat more than a light meal when he finally returned to the suite. And the last two nights he’d been so exhausted that he had fallen asleep immediately after getting in bed, barely taking the time to kiss her good-night. Jill had told herself she was being both selfish and silly to feel hurt that Max hadn’t wanted sex from her, that he was worn out and badly needed some rest. Besides, she’d reasoned further, did most couples - married or otherwise - actually have sex every single day? Despite her overall lack of knowledge on the subject, she was more than willing to bet the answer to that question was no.

  And the fact that Max had arrived back so late the past few nights had allowed her to get caught up on her schoolwork, which had admittedly taken something of a backseat as of late. She’d made great progress on a number of assignments, and had even begun a rough outline of the final project she would need to complete in order to receive her degree.

  She had also taken the time to call her roommates, chatting with Casey and Shoshana simultaneously on speakerphone, though she’d spend the better part of the time dodging their increasingly personal questions. Predictably, Casey had been most interested in how many different sexual positions Jill had managed to learn, while Shoshana had asked very pointed questions about what was going to happen once Max left Seattle in a few more days.

  “What do you mean, what’s going to happen?” Jill had replied matter-of-factly. “I’ve already told you guys what’s going to happen. Max will return to his life in San Francisco, probably get ready for his next assignment, and fly off to wherever that is. Meanwhile, life will get back to normal for me. Though I have to admit it’s going to be a rude awakening when I need to start doing my own laundry again. And I’ve really gotten used to someone making my bed every day and leaving out clean towels.”

  But her attempt at lightheartedness didn’t fool either of her roommates, just as it didn’t even begin to ease the ache in Jill’s heart when she realized how truly awful it was going to be when Max was no longer in her life.

  “For God’s sake, Jill,” Shoshana had blustered. “Why don’t you just tell the man how you feel? And that you don’t want this to end after he leaves town. I know your old Granny told you that nice girls never make moves on men, but this was also the woman who wouldn’t let you wear bikini underwear or pluck your eyebrows. Why does Max get to call all the shots in this so-called relationship you guys have? Who knows? Maybe he’ll actually like it if you try speaking your mind for once.”

  “I already know what the answer will be, Sho,” she’d replied quietly. “And that answer will be a definite no. So why should I put myself through that sort of humiliation - declare my undying love for him, beg him not to leave me, and tell him I’ll settle for any tiny scrap of his attention - when it won’t do any good?”

  “You never know until you try,” Casey had chimed in cheerily. “Sho’s right. Don’t let the bloke intimidate you, Jilly. He’s not the boss of you, for Christ’s sake. Or your master. Or is he?” she’d added naughtily. “Ooh, is he into that kinky shit like that guy in the Fifty Shades books? That dude was all sorts of damaged. Maybe your Max is, too.”

  “Honestly, Case, I have no idea what you’re talking about. You know I never read those books, no matter how often you tried to convince me. But, no. Max is not into anything I would describe as kinky.”

  “How do you know?” challenged Casey. “You’re still a babe in the woods, after all. Would you even realize if he was getting all dominant and such? He hasn’t tried spanking you, has he? Or tying you to the bedpost with his tie? Or suggesting - ”

  “Knock it off, Casey,” Shoshana had admonished. “And leave Jill alone. She knows Max way better than we do, after all. So if she thinks a future with him is hopeless, then all you and I can do is make sure we have lots of wine, ice cream, and chocolate waiting for her when she returns.”

  Jill had laughed, despite her sadness. “Look, I knew exactly what I was getting into when I agreed to go back to his hotel with him that first night,” she’d pointed out. “I wanted this, remember? Wanted my first time to be with someone special, someone extraordinary. And I don’t think I’ll ever meet a man as extraordinary as Max Wainwright ever again. So I’m planning on enjoying every hour I have left with him. I’ll worry about my broken heart when the time comes.”

  But her brave words of last night couldn’t stop her from fretting now about the inevitable heartache she was going to experience in less than a week’s time. She should have known better, she knew that now, about getting involved with a man like Max Wainwright - so much older and experienced, a man who didn’t show much emotion, and who adamantly refused to open up and talk about himself.

  Oh, Jill had managed to glean tiny bits and pieces of information from him, asking a casual question every so often, and then swiftly changing the subject after he’d given a brief, rather reluctant reply. She had learned that, like her, he had no close family to speak of, save for some third cousins he’d never met. She knew that he had traveled all over the United States, South America, Australia, the Far East, and most of Europe, but that he had never returned to England after moving to California all those years ago. And it had been quite obvious from his terse response to that particular question that it was not something he was prepared to elaborate on.

  Simply by observation, she had also learned that he was almost fanatical about taking care of his clothing and other belongings, sending his suits and shirts out to be dry cleaned and laundered every day, and keeping his shoes perfectly buffed and shined. No matter how tired he was, he stuck to his intense, back-breaking workout routine religiously, never missing a day at the gym or pool. He was just as zealous about his diet, eschewing any sort of greasy, fried foods, and eating plenty of lean protein, vegetables, and fruits, and only a modest amount of carbs, though Jill had noticed he did have a sweet tooth. He’d loved the banana parfaits she had made last week, and had eaten more than half of the apple pie she had baked last Friday. And tonight he had made reservations at El Gaucho, the restaurant where they’d had their first date.

  “After all,” he’d reminded her, “we never did get around to sampling the bananas foster I told you about. It would be a tragedy if you didn’t try it at least once in your life.”

  Max’s decision to return to El Gaucho had given Jill cause to wonder - and worry - about the significance behind that choice. Was this his farewell to her? Had she underestimated how much longer he would be remaining in Seattle? He had never actually said, after all, she reminded herself now. It had only been office gossip, speculation, that it would take approximately three weeks for him to complete his assessment. But Max had such a brilliant mind, was so intuitive and insightful and so experienced, that it was entirely possible he had learned all he needed to and was now in the process of simply wrapping everything up. If that was in fact the case, it meant they had fewer than four days left to spend together.

  This morning over a quick breakfast, he had even asked her to wear the same black dress and heels she had worn on their first night together, a request that had strengthened her belief that their time together was quickly running out. But she hadn’t dared to ask him if there was any hidden meaning behind his request, not really wanting to know the answer. She was well aware of the fact that she was avoiding the subject of his imminent departure, but couldn’t bring herself to do much more than take it an hour at a time, cherishing every minute she had left with the man she’d fallen hopelessly in love with.

  ‘Oh, Max,’ she thought sadly. ‘Why are you so against having a real relationship? Why have you never wanted to commit to a woman? And why are you so quick to dismiss the idea of marriage and children? I know I’m young and inexperienced and naïve, but I’d make you a good wife, Max. You said yourself that I would make someone a wonderful wife and mother someday, so why can’t that someone be you? We’d be
good together, I know we would. Neither of us has any family to speak of, so we could be each other’s family, start our own family. Three or four children, I think, maybe two boys and two girls. Yes, that would be perfect. And I could be a big help to Max in his business, maybe doing research for him or even going along on assignments. I know he said he prefers to work alone, but look at how tired he’s been the past few days. I can’t believe he wouldn’t welcome some help.’

  But even as a wistful smile crossed her features as she imagined the sort of perfect, harmonious life they could have together, tried to picture what their children might look like, Jill knew they were just silly daydreams. She even toyed with the idea of having a couple of extra glasses of wine at dinner tonight, taking the risk of becoming tipsy, just so she could summon up the nerve to challenge Max on his stance about relationships.

  One thing was for certain, though. If she wanted to continue having Max Wainwright in her life, she was going to have to be the one to make it happen. And that, she realized with a gulp, was going to call for taking some sort of drastic action, and much sooner than later.

  ***

  “Mmm. You were so right about the bananas foster! Not that I have anything to compare it to, of course, since this was the first time I ever had any. But I can’t imagine having anything better than what we just ate.”

  Max smiled, sliding an arm around her shoulders as they waited for a taxi to pull up to the curb outside of El Gaucho. “They were delicious. Maybe even better than what I’ve had in New Orleans. It’s been several years, after all, since I’ve traveled there, so perhaps my recollections aren’t as sharp.”

  Jill smiled wistfully. “I’ve always wanted to visit New Orleans. But then I’ve got a very long list of places I want to travel someday. It sounds like you’ve already been to almost all of them, though.”

  He shrugged, guiding her towards the taxi that had just pulled up. “Unfortunately, not for leisure most of the time. And one doesn’t get to see much of the sights when they’re cooped up in an office or hotel suite for fourteen hours a day.”

  “You work too hard,” she scolded gently, patting him on the arm as they settled into their seats. “Maybe you should reconsider the “I prefer to work alone” attitude. Life is too short, Max, not to take some time to relax and enjoy yourself.”

  He chucked her playfully on the chin. “I just finished a very relaxing dinner. And I happen to be enjoying myself very much at the moment.”

  “That’s not what I meant, and you know it,” she admonished.

  But the closed-off expression on his face made her think twice about what she might have said next. It was obvious that he considered the subject over, and once again she didn’t want to upset the apple cart - as Grandma would have said - especially after the wonderful evening she and Max had just shared.

  He’d been on the quiet side during dinner, seeming content to let her do most of the talking, though he had smiled warmly throughout their meal and hadn’t looked nearly as tired out or stressed as he had the past few days. Jill had noticed that he’d had more to drink than was normal for him - a pre-dinner glass of some wildly expensive single malt Scotch, most of the bottle of red wine he’d ordered with dinner, and then a coffee drink spiked with brandy. She had been tempted several times during dinner to ask him if anything was wrong, but each time had decided against it.

  And there had been at least two occasions during their meal when she’d glanced up from her plate to find him gazing at her with a pensive expression. His dark eyes had looked almost sad, or regretful, and once again she’d had to bite her tongue to refrain from asking him what was troubling him. She knew better, after all, even after knowing the man for less than three weeks, that Max simply didn’t discuss things like emotions and feelings, or admit to any sort of weakness.

  Instead, she intentionally kept the conversation on the light side, making sure she sounded cheerful and happy and content - which hadn’t been at all difficult, since she had, in fact, felt exactly that way. She’d even been daring enough to order a pre-dinner cocktail of her own - the specialty house Cosmo, made with berry-infused vodka. That, along with the two glasses of wine she’d consumed during dinner, had fortunately not made her drunk, though she was definitely a little tipsy at the moment. Just enough, she told herself as she snuggled up against Max, to feel relaxed and maybe a little bolder - maybe even bold enough to have that frank, heart-to-heart conversation with the man whom she’d fallen head over heels in love with.

  ‘This might be your only chance, Jill,’ she chastised herself as the taxi drove them the short distance to the hotel. ‘Max hasn’t said a word, but his time here in Seattle must be winding down. I wonder if that’s why he’s been sort of quiet tonight, almost melancholy. Because he knows he’s getting ready to leave and is worried that you aren’t going to be able to handle it. So, then, tell him tonight, silly. Just come out with it. I mean, if he’s going to leave you anyway, why not be honest and tell him how you feel? Challenge him to make a commitment, to change his life. All he can say is no. And the very worst that could happen is that he’ll ask you to move out of the suite a few days early, which you’re going to have to do sooner than later anyway. What’s that line from Casblanca - something about regretting something for the rest of your life? Don’t let that happen to you, Jill. You’ve already missed out on way too many things in your life so far, largely thanks to Grandma. So don’t let this opportunity pass you by. Find the right time to tell him how you feel - tonight.’

  Max squeezed her hand. “You look like you’re deep in thought, love. Something you’d like to discuss?”

  Her cheeks flushed guiltily. “Um, not - not exactly, At least, not now. Maybe later tonight.”

  He frowned in concern, cupping her cheek in his palm. “Is everything all right, Jill? I noticed when you’re worried or unsure about something you tend to chew on your bottom lip. Like right this very second, for example.”

  Hastily she clamped her lips together, then shook her head. “I’m not worried, no. And it’s really nothing, Max, honestly. Just my overactive imagination hard at work, I suppose.”

  Max kissed her softly on the mouth. “I hope you’re imagining all of the wicked things I’m planning on doing with you once we’re locked inside the suite,” he whispered, his breath tickling her ear and causing her to tremble in reaction. “After all, I’ve been too wiped out the past couple of nights to even think about lovemaking. But I’m pleased to report that I feel very well rested tonight.”

  She gasped softly when he slid his hand inside her unbuttoned coat and cupped her breast. “Max!” she whispered, glancing at the taxi driver worriedly.

  “Relax, sweet,” he murmured in a hushed tone. “He’s not paying us the slightest attention. Besides, it’s so dark back here he wouldn’t be able to see a thing.”

  Jill’s fists clenched tightly as his hand lazily fondled her breast, his thumb brushing over the hard little point of her nipple. She bit down on her tongue to stifle the whimper that would have escaped her throat otherwise, and squeezed her thighs together, determined not to squirm on the seat no matter how damp her panties might become.

  “Shall I tell you about some of the naughty things I’ve been imagining?” he teased. “One of them involves you wearing only those sexy little bits of black lace I know you agreed to wear for me tonight, plus those high heels you’ve got on right now. Though I haven’t quite decided where I’d like to have you the first time - sitting on my lap, perhaps. Or bent over the edge of the sofa - you did seem to enjoy it very much when I took you from behind, judging by how loudly you screamed. Ah, but we should really try something new, shouldn’t we? Something you’ve yet to experience. Like, for example, fucking you in front of the mirror in the bedroom. Your hands bracing themselves on the dresser, with this gorgeous arse sticking up in the air while I take you that way. You’ll be able to watch the action from that position.”

  He slid his entire
palm up under her dress until he reached her crotch, then brushed aside the lacy gusset of her panties before sliding two fingers inside of her drenched slit.

  “Soaking wet,” he growled, pumping his fingers in and out of her vagina with a slow, purposeful rhythm. “The bedroom mirror it is, then, given how much that idea seems to excite you. Ah, we’ve arrived.”

  Jill wanted to scream in frustration as Max calmly withdrew his fingers, gave them a delicate lick, and then pulled the edges of her coat together.

  “Better button up, love,” he chided playfully. “It’s chilly outside this evening. Besides, I doubt you’d want anyone to notice how hard your nipples are right now.”

  He cheerfully ignored the murderous glare she directed his way as he helped her out of the taxi and then inside the hotel. She fully expected him to start whistling or something, considering the very satisfied, almost smug look on his face at the moment. But he merely rested a hand on the small of her back as they stepped inside the elevator, then smiled politely at the elderly, well dressed couple who joined them a moment later.

  But all traces of the polite, refined gentleman disappeared the instant they walked inside the suite. Once the door was locked behind them, Max wasted no time in practically shoving her up against one wall of the suite’s foyer, lifting one of her stocking-clad legs to wrap around his hip. Jill was given no time to react to his aggressive, dominant move as he claimed her mouth in a fierce, possessive kiss, his tongue and lips eating at hers as though he was starved for the taste of her.