“Logan?”
No—not now. I couldn’t face him with old pain strumming through me.
“Logan.” At the low, resolute tone, I squeezed my eyes shut. He must have been watching out for me. “What’s wrong?”
I turned to Max, wanting him to hold me, just hold me until the roiling inside me stopped, but Ray was sprinting toward us. “Ila? You okay? Damn Simi! We just had to run into that bitch cousin of ours!”
“Did you know he was banging her for six months while engaged to me?” I asked Ray dully, struggling to push this new betrayal aside.
“Believe me, had I known, I would have punched her daylights out,” Ray growled. “I’m sorry, sis. You didn’t need her drama this evening.” She gave me a one-arm squeeze, glaring at the pub. “Bitch was always jealous of you.”
“Why? I did nothing to her.”
“Because you’re amazing, and nearly every guy in school wanted you. But you were oblivious to them, interested only in your art. Besides, most were scared to mess with a black belt Tae Kwon Do expert’s daughter, at least from what I heard later.”
The latter, I could believe. The former? I wasn’t so sure. I’d been painfully shy. It’s why I sought refuge in my books and painting…until Devyn. But then Ray was family, biased, and protective.
Max shifted closer behind me. His warmth seeped through my clothes, but it was his arms around me I desperately craved. He stroked a hand down my back as if knowing what I needed. Just his touch and it steadied me, sweeping away the hurt—the horrible moment.
He moved to my side. His expression appeared calm, but his eyes held an icy edge. I realized he was angry for me. “You want to leave?” he asked quietly, instead.
I ran once. Not again.
“No. It’s our night out, I won’t let her ruin it. I just needed some air.” My spine straightened with resolve, I walked back inside with Ray bristling at my side. Then she hurried on, leaving me with Max. She pit-stopped near Simi, who was refreshing her lipstick. And said something to her.
Simi ignored her and shot me a smug smile, putting away her war paint. Her cattish gaze skipped past me then widened, settling on Max who walked next to me. Obviously, she’d recognized him. Her gaze swept down his body and up again, lingering on his face. My jaw tightened. Max was mine.
Ray strode off to our table. Denise and Missy cheered me on with raised glasses. They knew the sordid story—heck, all of Millbrae probably did.
“Bitch,” Missy muttered as I sat down.
I drank more of my vodka. The rock music gave way to a slow ballad, and Waiting For a Girl Like You swept over the dance floor.
“Logan?” Max remained standing. “Dance?”
I desperately wanted to but was so afraid to be in his arms because I knew I would hold on and never want to let him go. Not only was Max hot and sexy, he was caring, too—a dangerous combination for a girl reawaking to life.
“Awesome!” Ray piped out before I could speak. “Make it look all lover-like, Max.” Her hard gaze was still pinned on Simi. “I want that smug look wiped right off her damn face.”
Nothing showed in Max’s expression, but he nodded. “Sure.”
Wanting to get away from my cousin’s rabid stare, I rose. Max put a hand on my lower back and ushered me to the dance floor. He drew me into his arms, his gaze drifting over my face. After my emotional breakdown moments ago, I wondered what he saw. Did he regret getting involved with a girl so clearly messed up?
He caressed my cheek with his knuckles, the gesture so tender, my heart faltered. I rested my head on his chest and tightened my hold on him, the tension from the last half hour easing. His lips brushed my ear. “She confronted you in the bar back in San Francisco, too, the first night we met—same reason?”
“Yes. She likes rubbing it in.”
“You want me to take her on?”
I smiled. Then hastily shook my head, just in case he was serious.
He said, “If she were a guy, I would have beaten the shit out of him for hurting you. You okay?”
I nodded. “Thank you.”
“For?”
“For being here. For being you. For making what could have been a horrid evening much better.”
Enveloped in his warmth, Simi no longer mattered—none of it did. I was in the arms of the only person who mattered besides my family. What that meant to the future of my heart, I wasn’t ready to analyze.
Chapter Ten
Max
Thuds and yells yanked me out of a restless sleep—sleep? If only. The sporadic minutes of shut-eye throughout the night wasn’t sleep, it was my penance, to relive the echoes of my nightmares over and over again.
I sat up, my feet hitting the cold floor, and dropped my head in my hands, trying to rub away the fragmented images stabbing my mind.
The heavy rustle of rain…screams, metal crunching, glass shattering…then, unending blackness…
I squeezed my eyes tight, wishing for a moment of reprieve.
Recently, these fragmented flashes of the accident recurred so often, it left a bleeding hole inside me. Christ! I wished I knew what had happened the night of the crash. The papers had speculated that I’d been drinking. Guilt and pain surged. My belly twisted, and my eyes burned. I’m so sorry, Mom...
Another yell, muffled but distinctly familiar and feminine, filled my ears, yanking me out of my hellhole.
My mind drifted to last night. Being with Logan’s family was a balm to my abraded emotions when it came to family, and certainly an eye-opener. Her parents definitely redefined what I knew of parenting. Acceptance, and patience. Who knew?
Jack’s family was as bad as mine, and War? Hell, he came from a different stratosphere altogether. Orphaned at a young age, he’d grown up with foster families and was at university on a hockey scholarship. A great guy, but with one helluva temper. No surprise that he was benched for two games. Yeah, we were all misfits of society.
I made my way to the bathroom. A few minutes later, I pulled on sweats, a navy tee, and sneakers then wandered outside to the backyard. And came to a standstill at the game taking place on the tarred driveway near the double garage.
I slid my hands into my pockets and watched her. Clad in a tank top and knee-length tights that molded her feminine body, Logan played one-on-one basketball with her father. With her being so much shorter, one would think Mr. L would have had the upper hand—nope, not with my girl. She ducked under his arms and snatched the ball.
“When did I raise a daughter that cheats?” her father grumbled as she dribbled the ball, keeping it out of his reach.
“Stop complaining, Dad. You know I got my sneakiness from you.” She jumped up and threw the ball high, sending it through the hoop. With a delighted whoop and a gleeful smile, she did a little victory wiggle. And I recalled her more sensual moves in the laundromat.
I’d never met a girl that could drive me as crazy as she did with her asinine assumptions, yet make me want to kiss her at the same time. Did she really think short-term in regards to our relationship?
True, I had no idea where it would lead, but I understood one thing, I wanted her with a longing that came from deep within. Last night, on the dance floor, when she’d put her head on my chest and just held me, something inside me expanded. For once, my problems faded to the background. I wanted to protect her, take away her hurt, and make everything right for her.
Logan darted away from her father, bouncing the ball. Her gaze landed on me, and she came to a stumbling halt. “Max.” Her breathy whisper swept over me like a sensual caress.
Sean Logan turned. “‘Morning, Maximus.”
I grimaced, and Mr. L laughed. “Take my place. This girl of mine is working these old bones to dust.”
He picked up a hand towel hanging on the low branch of an apple tree edging the driveway, and wiping his face, he walked off.
I strolled to her. Oh, I wanted to play, all right, just not ball. “So…”
Obviously reading my
intent, not that I was hiding anything, she cut her father’s retreating form a quick look and took a hasty step back, shaking her head.
Like that would stop me. “Scared?”
She snorted.
“Good,”—I put my hands on her waist and pulled her close, lowered my voice—“because I want my mouth on you so bad. Why didn’t you come to me last night?” I nipped her bottom lip. She gasped. Then sighed as I lazily licked the spot I bit. “I didn’t even get a goodnight kiss.”
A low groan escaped her. “Max, it’s my parents’ home.”
“Hmm…” I glided my lips across hers. “We’re outside now.” I teased the seam of her mouth with my tongue.
“God, Max, stop playing and just kiss me—”
Grasping her wrist, I pulled her into the open garage, passing the SUV there. At the back, I pressed her up against the wall, into a space between a shelf of bolts and screws and another shelf with tools, then put my mouth back on hers and kissed her. My tongue stroking hers, I slipped my hand beneath her pink tank and squeezed her bare breast. And those little sounds I adored broke free from her, sending my libido skyrocketing.
I picked her up, and she wrapped her legs around my waist, her center pressed against my rigid sex, and, judging from her glazed eyes and flushed face, I’d found her clit. She pushed my t-shirt up and raked her fingers over my back. A low growl escaped me.
“Do you want me inside you, Logan?”
“God, yes.”
And we had to be in the garage where her father could very well come out looking for a damn screw or something.
“Soon, dancing girl, very soon,” I whispered against her mouth. “Because if I don’t have you, I’ll probably die of blue-balls.”
Husky laughter left her, making me smile. “You wanted to wait.”
And so I had. I rested my forehead against hers when she shocked all hell out of me and laid a soft kiss on my cheek. At the tender gesture, my chest swelled, and the overwhelming emotion to hold onto her and never let go expanded and strengthened. Another press of lips, and I let her slide down my body, enjoying every inch of her.
After straightening our clothes, we walked out into the bright morning sunshine. Logan stumbled. I grasped her arm to steady her and swallowed my curse when I saw why she’d tripped.
Her father sat on the stone bench, staring at the basketball spinning on his finger. Sean Logan looked up, his gaze moving between us. Yup, he knew exactly what we’d been doing.
“Does Ray know?” he asked, expression inscrutable.
Logan bit her lip, a flush reddening her face. “No. I’m going to tell her—”
“Mr. Logan,” I interrupted, “Ray and I are just friends. I’ve known her for over a year.”
He nodded. “Just checking. And, yes, I’m aware of that. That daughter of mine has shown no interest in any boy since high school—her head’s too wrapped up in her studies,” he murmured. His gaze swept back to me as he rose. “I’m getting an early start to the grounds. Need to set up for Ila. I thought you’d like to come with me. The girls will be by later.”
“Dad—”
A dark eyebrow cocked. “Baby, you don’t want your boyfriend helping me?” he asked innocently.
She cut me a wry look, mouthed sorry. “Fine, but let Max have breakfast at least.”
What? Like the last meal before death or something? But I liked that she hadn’t denied the boyfriend part. I lowered my gaze to my sneakers so her father wouldn’t see my smile.
“Half an hour, Maximus, then we leave.”
The smile died. Goddammit! “I’m going to wring Ray’s neck,” I muttered.
Logan’s laughter flowed around me, soft and warm as an embrace. Yup, I was a goner for this girl. I followed her to the kitchen rich with the smells of bacon, eggs, and coffee. And for the first time in my life, at least since that fateful day of the accident, the endless pain, the feeling of worthlessness had eased.
Ila
As the morning sun beat down on us, I reached into the back of Max’s SUV and stacked the boxes together. I barely paid attention to the crowd around me in the congested parking lot, my mind on him. He’d given me the keys to his Jeep and told me to use it since he planned to go with my father.
With Dad’s passion for Tae Kwon Do, he’d been known to intimidate the few dates I’d had when I was younger before I got involved with Devyn—the only one who’d braved my dad’s menacing stare. Though Max was the type of guy to stand up to anyone, I really hoped my father hadn’t said anything to him. After Devyn, Dad was overprotective, and I couldn’t blame him, considering the mess I’d become.
“Ray,” I called out to my sister still seated in the Jeep with her door open, talking to Denise and two of her old school friends. “Help me with these.”
“Cominnnnng,” she yelled back. As if stretching out the word would make it happen any faster. Ray would help, but in her own sweet time.
Shaking my head, I gathered some of the packages and dumped them in the open box.
“Whoa,” one of the girls said. “Who is that? Aaand he’s coming our way.”
Denise laughed. Curious, I glanced over my shoulder. My heart did a little flip. Max walked toward us. Ray snorted. “Don’t wet your panties. That’s Max, my friend. He doesn’t do girlfriends. He’s a love ‘em and leave ‘em kinda guy.”
My stomach dipped at Ray’s words. Now, I felt like an idiot with my little stipulation.
Max had that ‘bad-boy—do me’ appearance from the top of his tousled hair to the tips of his scuffed biker boots. Wearing faded Levi’s with a ripped back pocket, a gray tee that revealed his inked arms and neck, he looked as tempting as sin.
The sun glinted off his pale hair, but those eyes, greener than a forest lake, drifted over my cut-off jeans shorts and fitted, pale yellow tank. And when his warm gaze met mine, I forgot my qualms and Ray’s comments. I only knew that I wanted to be in his arms again. Last night, when he’d danced with me, I’d experienced a sense of peace for the first time in forever, felt as if I belonged.
A brunette wearing white skinny jeans and a skimpy, black halter-top stepped in his path. My stomach twisted warily. I couldn’t hear what was said, then Max sidestepped her and continued toward us.
“Hey, Max,” Ray called out. “Glad to see Dad didn’t work you to the bone.”
“We’re good. Just finished setting up Logan’s stall.”
“So what did she want?” Ray asked the question that was burning a hole in my mind.
He shrugged, and I knew. Green eyes found mine. “Doesn’t matter. Told her I was seeing someone.”
My breath caught. He stopped beside me and nodded to the boxes and packages. “Are those for your stand?”
The Jeep door slammed shut as I nodded, struggling to get the words out of a dry throat. “Yes, all these here.” I pulled the boxes forward. He ran his fingers over mine. “I have it.”
Ray appeared beside us, eyes wide in astonishment. “Spill. Who is she, this girl you’re seeing?”
“Forget it,” he muttered, picking up the boxes up.
Ray opened her mouth then shut it. She studied him contemplatively. “You’re shielding her! Wow, that’s new. And you haven’t mentioned her name, not that you remember half the floozies you hook up with. She must be pretty special. Wait, where did you meet her when you’ve been staying with us since you got back?” she demanded.
Max smirked, didn’t say a word.
Oh, crap. Before Ray took a calculated guess and figured out the truth, I hastily asked, “Don’t you have a tank to get to?”
“Dammit!” Her gaze skipped back to Max. “I will find out who she is.” With that threat, she sprinted off, calling over her shoulder, “I have your dunk-wear with me, Ila—don’t be late.”
“You know she won’t leave it alone,” Max said as I locked up his SUV. “When are you going to tell her?”
“Tonight.” I tucked his keys in his front pocket, enjoying a quick feel of his hard
thigh.
Since it was Saturday and the main event, the crowds poured into the grounds. We managed to evade the influx when Max cursed. “This way.” He made for a throng of people, weaving through them.
“What is it?” I hurried to keep up.
“Media. Best to avoid them.”
I looked over my shoulder again, searching the masses. Nothing. “How do you know?”
“When you spend years dodging them, you just know. Besides, everyone else uses cell phones for pictures—they have actual cameras.”
Oh. “It could be nothing. The fair usually gets a small mention in the press, but it’s just the local paper. We don’t really get big name people here…” My words died.
Max didn’t say anything. What he did was always news.
Minutes later, he set the boxes on the grassy floor of the tarp structure. A table and a bench took up space inside, with a plastic chair adjacent to them. Several photos of my previous henna designs were pinned to a corkboard on a tripod, along with shots of face-painted kids.
How dad had charmed this sponsor into giving us the henna I needed, I had no idea. But it was sufficient for a few hours of work, and I was happy with that. I didn’t want to be tied down in one spot on a bright and beautiful day like this, not when Max was with me.
“So what exactly is it you’re going to do with that?” he asked, opening the box containing the henna mixture I’d prepared that morning.
I snuck him a quick look as I unpacked. “Decorate peoples’ hands and any parts of their body they like.”
His eyes narrowed. “When it comes to you, I need clarification. What body parts?”
“It’s just hands, forearms, and calves usually…” Still feeling a little guilty about Titus, I said, “Max, I won’t take on any more nudes, but I have to finish Titus’s commission.”
A nerve twitched in his jaw. His only response. With a sigh, I continued as I added more lemon juice to weaken the mixture. “The henna stain stays on for a couple of weeks, it’s not permanent. The darker the red, the longer it remains.”
Breathless (Players to Men) Page 15
