Breathless (Players to Men)

by Georgia Lyn Hunter

  “Ray,” I called out. She appeared in the kitchen doorway, eating an Oreo.

  A slender, dark eyebrow lifted in question. “Yes?”

  Damn. If I wanted her help, I had to spill the truth about what had occurred at Jack’s. Or else Ray would probably tell me to fuck off, especially if she thought I’d deliberately hurt her sister.

  So I told her. “It doesn’t make sense. I thought everything was okay,” I said, my frustration and anxiety hiking.

  “Dammit.” She scowled at me. “I knew your past would come back and bite you in the ass.”

  I had to nail my lips shut not to snap at her.

  But concern darkened her gaze. “Ila won’t go home, not with Mom being sick…Charli! They’re best friends.” She pulled her cell from her jeans pocket and hit speed dial. “Hey, Charli, it’s Ray. Is Ila there?”

  Her hazel eyes met mine a second later, she shook her head. My stomach dropped.

  “Thanks… No, I don’t know what happened.” Ray cut me another dark look. “She was a little upset…yeah, okay, I’ll call you when she turns up.” Ray ended her call, looking as anxious as I felt. “She has no other friends I know of, so where…dammit, of course—the Legion.”

  “What?”

  “The museum out by the water in Land’s End. She likes it there. Sometimes, she goes when she’s sad or troubled, says it calms her.”

  “Thanks.” I grabbed my car keys off the sideboard and headed out. With the heavy, bumper-to-bumper, rush-hour traffic, and way too many stoplights between here and there, it took close to a damn hour before I pulled up into the emptying lot. I tore off for the museum, barely registering the tourists snapping pics in front of the fountain, and almost got clipped by a tour bus in the street before I skidded to a halt at the little glass pyramid near the building’s entrance, breathing hard.

  Shit, the place was too freakin’ big and sprawling for me to check every damn nook and cranny. They’d be closing in about fifteen minutes. I pulled out my cell and called Ray, my gaze fixed on the entrance. She answered on the first ring. “Do you know her fav—never mind.” I disconnected the call.

  Logan walked out behind a couple, her head lowered. Her shoulders drooped as if in exhaustion. She lifted her gaze and stumbled to a halt. “Max?”

  At her shocked whisper, pain and anger swelled, chasing away my relief. “Did you think I’d not come looking for you? You want to walk out on me, then I goddamn deserve to know the reason why.”

  Her lips trembled. Several of the patrons leaving the museum glanced curiously at us.

  My jaw tightened. No way was I giving the public another front-row view of my life.

  Without a word, I headed back for my SUV, aware she had to run to keep up. And I wasn’t in a mood to slow down.

  At the parking lot, I unlocked the Jeep. She touched my arm. “Max?”

  I spun around, put all my hurt, anger, and frustration into a single word. “Why?”

  Ila

  My heart beat so hard, my ribs actually hurt as Max stood there, all lean muscles and sheer perfection, cutting me a cold look that pierced my heart. Not knowing what to say, where to start, all that came out was, “I-I’m sorry.”

  His sculpted features hardened. “Then you and I have got ourselves a problem.”

  God, this was so difficult. “Max…”

  “What?” he snapped. “Just spit it out, Logan. I can’t solve a setback I don’t know about.”

  A vein pulsed furiously in his forehead. Stark pain flickered in his gaze before it blanked out. I hated that I’d put him through this. He deserved to know the truth.

  “I admit, what happened this morning unhinged me badly. Though you explained, this fear remains inside me that you’ll find someone else—”

  “Christ, Logan! What do you want from me? I made you a promise—something I’ve never done in my entire fucked-up life—said I wouldn’t cheat on you. Obviously, it wasn’t enough. Shall I open a vein so you’ll know it’s the goddamn truth? I haven’t been with anyone for months! You are all I think of, all I want.”

  Heat flooded my face. I deserved his fury, but what I delayed telling him had my stomach tipping over and nausea creeping up my throat. My mind flipped back to the woman who had come to see me at the store. Keeping my gaze on his scuffed boots, I wrapped my arms around my waist, trying to hold myself together, only to relive the entire, horrible moment again.

  “Kate was annoyed that my design wasn’t up to par for her new boutique. She insisted I start from scratch, but I couldn’t. My mind was all over the place when a woman walked into the office…”

  When he said nothing, I settled my gaze on his inked arms folded over his chest. “She said I was bad for you.”

  “What?”

  At his sharp tone, I met incensed green eyes now edged with confusion. “She said she was your therapist. If she mentioned her name, I don’t recall. But she was very clear, said you always came to her for everything.” I stressed the last word, so he understood exactly what I meant.

  At his harsh expletive, my heart shriveled and died a little more. It was true.

  He jammed his fingers through his hair, a nerve pounding hard in his jaw. The place where my name was stained on his inner arm was starting to fade… Like my relationship with him? More pain bled into me.

  “Jean Creswell,” he said after a moment. Tone flat. “That’s her name. My father had hauled me off to see her soon after the accident. I was seventeen…I didn’t talk to her then, not like you’re supposed to with a shrink, and I still don’t. I have never lied to you, Logan, about anything. I was so messed up, trying to silence my inner demons, I sought oblivion any way I could. Liquor, fighting, and sex. I was on a downward spiral into a place of no return. A few days after I turned eighteen, she stroked my arm, and that started. A month later, I told her I wasn’t interested...”

  His lips pressed together into an unhappy line. Dull green eyes held mine. “Yeah, I still see her, but only for the meds. Don’t let this come between us, Logan. When you’re not with me, the fragments you helped heal collapse, pulling me back into this void. I can’t even see straight. It’s why I left San Francisco. Those months in Peru as a volunteer, I lived in a remote, storm-damaged village, and helped fix the rundown buildings. I did drudge work, and they offered food and the room I shared with the other helpers. They liked who I was.

  “But my nightmares never stopped. The nights were the worst. I couldn’t take it—it was swallowing me whole. I came back to the city, and you walked into my life, and my damaged parts started to mend.”

  But not heal.

  “You don’t talk to her because you don’t trust her,” I said quietly.

  He was silent for a moment. His gaze lowered to the ground then came back to mine. “I’m sorry she confronted you. She had no business doing that. You’re probably right. I’ll find a new therapist.”

  “I want you to get better.”

  He heaved a massive sigh. “I want that, too.”

  “I’m sorry I didn’t come straight to you. I was so angry with her, with you, and hurting when she said what she did. I came here to calm down, to clear my mind and think.”

  “We’re bound to hit stumbling blocks, but we have to talk to each other.”

  “I know that…” Now. I had a tendency to shore up my troubles and hope things would right themselves in time. Devyn hadn’t been the type to talk about stuff. He liked it all smooth sailing. After a fight, he’d pretend it never happened. And then there was Max…

  “C’mere.”

  I leaped into his arms, taking him back a step. He hit his SUV.

  A loud grunt. “You’re heavy.”

  At his teasing, I sobbed out a laugh. Tears stung my eyes as he tightened his hold on me.

  God knew, despite my confusion and pain, my feelings for him overwhelmed me. That was why I’d taken it so hard when that woman popped out of the woodwork and tried to lay claim to him.

  I pressed my face in
his neck, breathing in his scent. Max had never betrayed me. In spite of all my uncertainties, he was always there when I needed him. He never wavered. “I’m so sorry, Max.”

  “I understand, Logan, more than you realize.” He eased back and his gaze met mine. “I’ll give you all the time you need. As long as it’s me you come back to…”

  My tears threatened to fall. He deserved better, not someone like me, so filled with fear.

  “…because I’m crazy in love with you.”

  I froze. My heart crashed against my ribs, the sound a roar in my head. “Wh-what?”

  “I love you, Logan. How could I not? You’re smart, beautiful, and amazing. Even when you’re driving me crazy, I want to yank you into my arms and kiss you senseless…” A smile. “I love the way you’re addicted to old movies. And especially, the way you dance when you think no one’s watching. I love it all because it’s you.”

  “Max—”

  “Shh, you don’t have to say anything, I just wanted you to know. You were gone several hours, and nothing lined up right in my life anymore. A piece of me was missing. You.”

  As mad as he was, as easy as it would’ve been to walk away, he didn’t. He didn’t give up on me.

  And a part of me I hadn’t realized I held back splintered and cracked. Feeling as if my mind was spinning… back to life? I wasn’t sure about that because Max was my life. His warmth, his love was what held me together. When Simi tried her usual “let’s kick Ila when she’s down” crap, and when Devyn tried to worm his way back into my life, Max was there.

  Even today, when I faltered, he never did. He never let me down. Max loved me, broken pieces and all. Tears fell. “Hold me, Max—just hold me.”

  “I have you, dancing girl. I’ll never let you fall.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Ila

  Kate had been irked at my taking off. But she needed me far more than letting her irritation with me win out. I was glad I still had a job.

  And knowing Max loved me, I felt another shift inside me. The final shattered pieces were mending. For the first time in what felt like years, I felt alive. Whole. Happy.

  But… While I was healing, Max wasn’t. His sleep patterns fluctuated between two or three hours, even with the massages. I so badly wanted for him to get closure, too. But with his guilt over his mother’s death, it was a touchy subject. I really hoped he’d find a new therapist soon.

  A car honking yanked me back from my thoughts. I cut a quick look at the digital clock on the DVD player, then hurried to peer out through my apartment window. The street teemed with cars and people. Still no sign of Max.

  Where was he? We were going to be so late.

  I didn’t think Leland Sinclair would appreciate that.

  At the thought of meeting Max’s formidable father—heck, going to Carmel and meeting the elite—my tension hiked. To stop myself from wearing out the soles of my high-heeled, red sling backs, I headed for the kitchen. Wine would be so good, the perfect stress-reliever—but I couldn’t arrive there smelling like a lush. I poured a glass of water instead and took a sip. Then saw my ragged nails. Ugh. I set the crystal down, grabbed a nail file from the drawer, and smoothed them out.

  The front door clicked open. Oh, thank God. I dropped the file on the counter and hurried back to the living room. “Max, it’s so late!”

  An amused smile lit his eyes at my winded appearance. “Missed me that much?”

  “You said one. It’s two now.”

  He grimaced. “Much as I’d like to say I was deliberately late, I had to keep Jack in lockdown until War was able to babysit. Something else is going on with him…” he broke off. His gaze swept down my body and back up to my face in a slow, male perusal. “You’re beautiful.”

  “I thought it safer wearing a dress.” I skimmed my hands over my hips in the fitted white dress with its sparsely scattered red tulips. “This doesn’t crease. It’s quite indestructible, actually.”

  He laughed, dropping his SUV keys on the sideboard. “When meeting the clan, it’s always a good idea to have protection.” He closed the small distance between us, wrapped his arms around me and pressed his lips to mine.

  Smiling, I kissed him back. “You ready?”

  “I’m never ready to go to Carmel,” he muttered. “But some things have to be faced. Let me shower and change first.”

  A short while later, we were on our way. Silence filled the SUV as the Jeep ate up the miles. The sunny morning did little to lighten the tense atmosphere as Max retreated into himself. Unable to bear the quiet after an endless hour or so, I turned to him. “So what exactly is happening at the barbeque?”

  He shrugged. “Who knows. My father wasn’t in a very explanatory mood when he issued the decree that I attend.” His expression hardened. “Maybe he’s finally leaving the business in Tanner’s hands—decided I’m not worth the effort, and is going to announce it. Maybe he wants to take off to the Himalayas for a sabbatical, live the life of a monk, who knows. Whatever it is, I plan to show my face with you at my side, then leave.”

  Hearing the edge of anger in his flat tone, I stroked his thigh, recalling what he had told me at my parents the night after Leland Sinclair had called. Did he want to work for his father? He had offers to play music, and yet he hadn’t decided on anything.

  It was nearly five when Max slowed before an imposing, intricately designed, wrought-iron gate. A security guard stepped out, then nodded, obviously recognizing Max. The gate slid open. Max drove up the tree-lined street into the hills, then turned onto a winding lane, stopping some distance from the impressive, sprawling, two-story, white mansion. Expensive cars lined the circular drive in front, and two valets hustled about, parking them.

  He got out, came around and opened my door while I studied his home—a modern take on the neo-classical style with soaring Doric pillars. Elegant, semi-circular marble steps led up to the main entrance. Magnificent as the building was, it appeared aloof. Distant. Cold.

  “You just going to stay here and stare at the house?” he drawled.

  “Your home’s beautiful.”

  “It’s just a pile of expensive bricks.”

  And not really the home of his heart? I studied him as he glanced at the mansion. Dressed in black jeans, a matching Henley, the long sleeves pushed up to his elbows revealing, corded, tattooed forearms…he was hot. Gorgeous. But his features appeared as if cast in granite.

  I took a deep breath as he helped me out of the Jeep.

  Probably sensing my apprehension, his expression softened. Even though he didn’t smile, his gaze gentled. “None of them bite, I promise. You’re beautiful. They’ll love you. It’s just me they can’t stand.”

  I rubbed my damp palms down my dress as uneasiness took hold. For Max’s sake, I hoped this afternoon went by smoothly and without incident. He was decent, kind, and thoughtful. How a parent could not love their child, love him, I had no idea.

  His hand on my lower back, he ushered me up the steps. The front door opened as if by elves—no, not elves, but a sturdy, middle-aged maid. Her steel-gray hair was pulled back in a neat ponytail. She wore a black dress, white apron, and soft-soled black shoes.

  “Max…” A smile brightened her pale cheeks, appearing delighted to see him. “The family and guests are out on the back terrace.”

  “Thanks, Millie.”

  “No butler?” I teased in a whisper.

  He snorted, but I noticed the amusement in his eyes. Then I stood there, taking in the elegant foyer with its circular upper gallery and crystal chandeliers, a little overwhelmed by the grandeur.

  “C’mon. I’ll show you around later,” he said, taking my hand and pulling me along with him.

  “Why don’t we find your room and stay there for the afternoon?”

  A ghost of a smile appeared. “Believe me, I’d far prefer that, too. I’d rather play with you than be out here.”

  “Max?”

  At his name being called, we both turne
d. A tall, dark-haired guy exited one of the side doors into the wide, marbled passage. “I’m damn glad you turned up.”

  “What? Can’t handle the vultures on your own, Tanner?” he asked, tone droll. “You hide in there?”

  The guy snorted.

  So this must be his cousin. He appeared to be a year or two older than me. He was about Max’s height, lean, good looking, and sporting well-cut, sable hair. His striking, but cool, teal gaze rested on me. “You brought a date?”

  Max’s bisected eyebrow rose. “You seem surprised?”

  He shrugged and stuck his hands in his pants pockets. “You usually turn up solo, you never bring your…er, friends home.”

  “Logan’s my girlfriend.” Max’s jaw hardened. “Logan, Tanner Harding—” he broke off.

  Another tall, dark-haired man left the same room Tanner had exited and halted when he saw us. He was probably in his early forties, extremely handsome, but in a cold and aloof way.

  “Maxwell.”

  And I knew exactly who he was. At times, Max sported that same cold aloofness.

  Normal people would say hello and ask why one was late and the other would answer. Not the Sinclairs. Heck, at the sub-zero temperature in the foyer, I wanted to find a sunny spot outside and hide until my blood thawed. Instead, my hand tightened on Max’s in support.

  Max drew me close and finished the introductions. “My father, Leland Sinclair. This is Ila Logan, my girlfriend.”

  “Miss Logan,” he said, his expression cool. Manners impeccable.

  A shiver skated along my spine. Ugh, so needed the sun right now. “Hello.”

  Nope, there was no “pleased to meet you” or “welcome.” I inhaled deeply, feeling waaaay over my head being in this place. Poor Max, having to grow up in this mausoleum.

  Intro over, Max steered me past his family and headed for what appeared to be the entertainment room at the end of the long corridor which led out to the terrace. The wall-to-wall folding doors stacked against the wall.