by Ginna Gray
At least she'd be spared that public humiliation, Elizabeth thought, exhaling a long, relieved sigh.
"As for the invitations we receive, I'll leave it up to you o decide which events we should attend," Max said. "I trust your judgment about social contacts. You know who in your set has the deepest pockets and who would be open to a good investment opportunity. Just let me know when to make myself available."
"Okay," Elizabeth said.
"So are we finished with our social talk?"
"I suppose so. For now, at least."
"Good. If you feel like it, I'd like to talk about your investment portfolio for a bit. I have some suggestions to run by you and your attorney regarding those."
"Such as?"
"Well, for one thing…"
For the next hour Elizabeth and Max lounged comfortably on the bed while they reviewed the performance of all her stocks. Before long they were relaxed and at ease with each other and exchanging ideas and opinions like old friends.
He had specific and sound reasons for advising her to dump certain stocks and several suggestions on how she could reinvest the money from those sales. One way was to invest in the venture that he and Troy were currently putting together.
The project involved buying up all the property in an eight-block-square area in a rundown section of downtown Dallas and renovating the entire thing to include luxury apartments, upscale shops, parks, jogging trails and professional offices.
"The aim is to attract young professionals—both singles and DINKS," he explained.
"DINKS? What is that?"
"It stands for Dual Income, No Kids couples. Typically these are young couples who have opted to postpone or forgo having a family. Hip people who want to live in the heart of the city near where they work. This will give them the option of walking almost everywhere—to work or to play—while still having a great home in a nice area. I've already started the process of buying up the property," he told her. "So far I've acquired about half of the area I have targeted. This project is a higher risk than others, but it's expected to bring in a high return on your money. Which is why I think it's right for you."
"It sounds good."
"Great. Why don't you go ahead and call Fossbinder and set up an appointment for us to meet with him tomorrow?"
"All right."
The call took only moments.
"We're all set for two o'clock," she said, handing the cell phone back to Max.
Another silence stretched out between then. Finally, giving in to curiosity, Elizabeth reached out and touched her fingertips to the scar that bisected Max's right eyebrow, tracing its trail over the bridge of his nose and left cheek. "Were you in a car accident?"
"No. That's a memento of my wild youth."
"Oh. I see."
"Why? Does it bother you?"
"No. Actually, it gives you a roguish look that I'm certain appeals to many women."
"Oh, yeah? Does that include you?"
Elizabeth smiled. "Let's just say that I'm still trying to decide. So are you going to tell me what happened or not?"
Max shrugged. "I'd just gotten out of the marines and was due to start college that fall. During that summer I was working as a roughneck on an offshore rig off the coast of Louisiana. I'd just come ashore from a two-week stint and I went to a local watering hole with a few of the other guys on the crew—one of those rowdy places where they play a little zydeco, a little country and a little rockabilly. We were looking to have a few beers and, if we were lucky, get laid."
Elizabeth's cheeks turned pink, but Max went on.
"I was twenty-two and feeling my oats. To make a long story short, I flirted with a pretty little Cajun gal who was sitting alone at the bar. How was I to know that she and her boyfriend had just had a spat, and he had gone to the men's room to cool off? When he came back and saw me cutting a rug with his woman, he objected.
"I was bigger than he was so I figured I could take him easily. One or two punches and she and I could go back to dancing." Max slanted Elizabeth a sly look. "In case you're interested, I do a mean Texas two-step."
"Oh, really?" she replied, struggling not to grin. Try as she might, she simply could not imagine this intense, almost fierce-looking man taking a lighthearted twirl around a dance floor.
"Anyway, what I hadn't counted on was this hot-blooded Cajun coming after me with a beer bottle he'd broken against the edge of the bar. First swing, and he laid my face open. Made me mad as hell, and I got in a few good shots before my buddies stepped in. If they hadn't I would probably have bled to death."
"You mean you actually came to blows? Inside the bar?"
Max took in her shocked expression. "Let me guess, you've never been in a genuine redneck dance hall in your life, have you?"
"Well … no. I can't say that I have, but—"
"That's what I thought. Trust me, it's a different world from the cotillions and society events you grew up attending."
There didn't seem to be anything to say to that, and they both fell silent again.
"Speaking of accidents, how's your hip?" Max asked after a while.
"I think it's healing fine. It only hurts when I'm on my feet."
"Oh, yeah?"
He tipped his head up and looked into her eyes. In the depths of his she could see the embers of desire heating up. Elizabeth sensed that what happened next was up to her.
With a few simple words she could douse that fire and turn away, and he would let her. If she had learned nothing else about this man she had married, she had learned that.
These past few days he had repeatedly demonstrated that her well-being was of concern to him. Whether or not that was because he considered her a rather costly business investment that needed safeguarding, or because he felt it was his husbandly duty, or because he was simply innately protective toward females, she had no idea. What she did know was that because of his concern for her, all it would take on her part was a claim of fatigue or discomfort and he would bank that fire for another time, with no recriminations.
Looking into those azure-blue eyes, Elizabeth realized that she did not want to turn him away. Maybe it was because he made her feel safe. Maybe it was a sense of wifely duty on her part. Or maybe, after all that had happened, she simply needed to experience the warmth of another's touch, needed to feel alive and wanted. Whatever the reason, she didn't question it. She simply smiled at him and murmured, "Mmm-hmm. In bed I don't hurt at all."
That was all the encouragement Max needed.
"Is that right?" he drawled, imbuing the question with so much sexual innuendo that it sent a shiver down Elizabeth's spine.
Elizabeth nodded, suddenly too shy to speak.
"I think I'd better have a fresh look at that bruise, just to be on the safe side."
Suiting actions to words, Max pried her fingers apart and trailed his fingertips along the top edge of her navy-blue trousers until he found the button. With a deft twist of his fingers and a downward zip, the pants loosened.
"Lift up your hips," he instructed, and Elizabeth obeyed.
Max pushed the trousers down to her knees, then stood up and moved to the end of the bed.
Before she realized his intent, he grabbed the bottom of both pant legs and snatched the dress trousers off her.
"Oh! Max, wha…?"
Ignoring her sputtering, he sat back down on the side of the bed, pulled her to a sitting position and peeled the cream sweater off over her head. He tossed the turtleneck over his shoulder and it landed on top of her trousers, which lay in a puddle on the floor.
Sitting in the middle of the bed, Elizabeth instinctively drew her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them. She gave him an arched look. "You could have looked at my hip without taking off my sweater, you know."
"I know." He watched her with a sensual gleam in his eyes as he shed his own trousers and began to unbutton his shirt. Not in the least self-conscious, he stripped off his black briefs, again stretched
out beside her on the bed, and pulled her back to a prone position.
"There's no point in hiding. I've seen all there is to see already," he drawled as, one by one, he brought her hands down to her sides. "Now, then. Let's have a look at that bruise."
Acutely embarrassed, Elizabeth lay still, trying to subdue the tremors fluttering inside her. She felt utterly vulnerable and exposed, but if Max noticed her discomfort he didn't let on.
He stared, his sensual expression changing to a frown as his gaze ran over the black-and-blue mark that covered half her abdomen and wrapped around to her spine in the back. "Damn. This looks worse than yesterday. Are you sure it doesn't hurt?"
"You know how bruises are. They always look worse the second or third day."
Max gently pressed his fingers to the discolored skin. "Does that hurt?"
Elizabeth shook her head. "It's just a bit sore, is all."
Taking her by surprise, Max scooted down in the bed, bent his head and placed a soft kiss to the center of the bruised flesh. The tender caress made her shiver, and he looked up at her and smiled.
Bending again, he strung a line of kisses along the edge of the bruise, following the arching curve to her navel, then downward, all the way to where the insulted flesh disappeared beneath her navy-blue bikini panties.
Encountering the tiny swath of silk and lace, Max raised his head, his sensual gaze meandering over the panties and matching bra. "Damn, woman, you wear the sexiest underwear. I would never have guessed that beneath that elegant, ladylike exterior you had on X-rated skivvies."
His brilliant blue eyes seemed to devour every inch of her, and Elizabeth felt her body flush from head to toe. "They are no such thing. They're perfectly decent undergarments. Just because they're pretty doesn't mean they're erotic."
"That depends on who's wearing them. Trust me, on you they're sexy as all get out." With a deft flick of his fingers he unfastened the front clasp on her bra and smiled with appreciation as the creamy orbs of her breasts burst free. "And even sexier off you," he added in a husky murmur, a second before his mouth closed over her engorged nipple.
Elizabeth made an inarticulate sound, her back arching up off the mattress as he drew on the sensitive bud. Without breaking off the kiss, Max took advantage of the opportunity and pushed her panties down to her ankles. In a frenzy of passion she kicked them off.
Without realizing what she was doing, Elizabeth sank her fingers into his hair and held his head to her breast. After a moment he abandoned the first nipple to seek out the other one. The air struck the wet, aroused flesh and made it pucker and harden all the more.
Max trailed his open mouth over the pearly mound to the tender valley between her breasts, his warm breath leaving a trail of moisture and goose bumps in its wake. The tip of his tongue traced small, wet circles on her skin, and Elizabeth shivered.
"Do you like that?" Max whispered.
"Y-yes."
He moved upward and strung nibbling kisses over her collarbone, the side of her neck. "And that?"
"Yes. Oh, yes."
He nipped her earlobe, and she felt him grin when the tiny pain elicited a groan from her. "Mmm, you like that, too, don't you?"
"Y-yes, I— Oh!"
In one motion, he grasped her waist with both hands and rolled to his back, holding her suspended above him. For a moment he held her there at arm's length, a slow smile curving his mouth at the confusion in Elizabeth's face.
"Max, wha…?"
"I'm just making certain we don't irritate that bruise," he murmured. Holding her gaze, he lowered her ever so slowly. Her eyes widened when she felt his sex nudging that most private part of her. Slowly, with exquisite torture, she felt him enter in tiny increments. Closing her eyes, she groaned and tried to complete the union quickly, but he wouldn't have it.
"No. Look at me. Look at me."
Elizabeth obeyed, and she watched his blue eyes darken and sizzle as, inch by inch, he lowered her onto him. She caught her breath as she felt him filling her, completing her.
When she was fully seated, he moved his hands downward and grasped her hips. With the gentlest of pressure he guided her movements. The rocking motion began slowly, but as the pleasure built, the rhythm grew, faster, harder.
Elizabeth braced her hands on his shoulders, her head back, eyes closed. Very quickly it was too much—too hot, too intense, too exquisite. Her climax came hard and fast, the pleasure beyond anything she'd ever experienced. Distantly she was aware of the high-pitched keening sound that tore from her throat, but she was powerless to silence it.
She collapsed on Max's chest, panting, spent, thoroughly sated. In the pulsing rhythm of her climax, her body continued to clench him tightly.
For several moments he lay quietly beneath her, his hands stroking her back with a hypnotic rhythm. "You okay?" he asked after a while.
"Mmm," The sound was all she could manage by way of a reply until he lifted his hips. Her eyes popped open. "Oh. You haven't … uh, you're…"
Max laughed. "Don't worry about me." Without breaking the intimate connection between them he rolled her onto her back. Braced above her on stiffened arms, he took in her flushed face and well-loved expression, and his mouth curved in a licentious smile. "That was just the preliminaries."
His hips began to move. Instinctively Elizabeth wrapped her legs around him.
"That'a girl," Max encouraged.
His mesmerizing gaze held hers as with every thrust his movements grew faster, harder.
After the shattering climax Elizabeth had just experienced, she would have sworn she could not be aroused again so soon, but to her amazement her body began to quicken and that gnawing, burning pleasure began to build again.
"C'mon. C'mon, baby, stay with me," he encouraged, watching her face as the feverish pleasure built. "That's it. That's it. Now. Now! Aah, yes. Yes!"
With one last powerful thrust, Max sank deep inside her and went rigid, his back arched, his face contorted with pleasure.
In the same instant Elizabeth cried out as, once again, the world seemed to explode around her.
A hard shudder shook Max, and he collapsed onto his back beside her.
Neither he nor Elizabeth moved. Eyes closed, arms flung above their heads, they panted for air, hearts pounding.
After a while she felt him turn his head on the pillow next to hers. "I think we both just qualified for the Mile-High Club," he gasped.
Opening one eye, Elizabeth arched her eyebrow at him. "Both of us?"
"Yeah. Believe it or not, you're the first woman who's ever been on this plane with me. I can't swear that Troy has never entertained a woman when I wasn't on board with him, but it's a first for me."
"Tom! Oh, my goodness!" She bolted to a sitting position and crossed her arms over her bare breasts. She shot Max a horrified look over her shoulder. "I forgot all about him. Do you think he heard us? That he knows?"
Max laughed. "We weren't exactly quiet."
Groaning, Elizabeth flopped back down on her back. "Oh, dear. How will I ever face him again?"
Max rolled onto his side and pulled her hands away from her breasts. "Don't hide yourself from me," he ordered in a gentle murmur. "You're my wife and I like looking at you."
Pulling his gaze away from her breasts, he smiled. "And I was just teasing. Tom can't hear anything above the engine noise. Especially when he has earphones on."
"Are you sure?"
Max shrugged and made a so-so sign with one hand. "Pretty sure. But even if he did hear, so what? We're married."
Making an irritated sound, Elizabeth cuffed him hard on his bare shoulder and huffed, "Oh! If that isn't just like a man!"
If Tom Givens had any idea of the goings-on in the back of the plane, he had the good sense and good manners to pretend otherwise when Max carried Elizabeth off the plane and put her into his car.
By the time they arrived at her River Oaks home it was late, and the sight of the darkened house sent a shiver rippling over her
neck, arms and shoulders.
"Where is everyone?" Max asked, flipping on the foyer chandelier.
"I told you, Gladys and Dooley have gone to visit their son in Lubbock."
"Oh, yeah, right." He looked down at the bags he was carrying. "Where shall I put these?"
"This way."
Elizabeth led him up the sweeping stairs. At the top she turned right and headed down a long corridor. Just before reaching the double-wide doors at the end of the hallway, she stopped.
"This is my room," she said, opening the door on her right.
Max took a few steps inside the room. "It's smaller than I expected for a master bedroom."
"Oh, this is not the master," she explained. "Edward didn't like to sleep with anyone. Right after we married he had this part of the house remodeled. This used to be the nanny's room. That closet over there was the nursery. It now connects to this room, the master bedroom on the other side and my bathroom."
Max crossed the room and poked his head into the closet.
"Damn, this space must be about twenty-five by twenty. That's bigger than a lot of bedrooms."
Elizabeth stood in the middle of the room, shifting her weight from one foot to another, not quite knowing how to navigate the subject of sleeping quarters.
"If, uh … if you want to take the master bedroom, feel free. I'm comfortable in here."
Max shot her a look and slowly shook his head. "Uh-uh. Not me. You're my wife. I sleep in your bed." He walked into the closet and through the door on the other side and stepped into the master bedroom. Elizabeth followed, wondering what was going on in his mind.
"Nice room," he commented. He walked across the bedroom, inspecting the hand-carved, twelve-foot-high Victorian four-poster bed and night tables, the pier mirror and the gentleman's chest.
He peeked into the sumptuous master bathroom and another enormous closet and a small sitting room. "Looks like Edward was nice to himself. This suite of rooms has obviously been remodeled with all the latest luxuries and creature comforts, and it covers the entire end of this wing of the house."
He looked again at Elizabeth. "You should be occupying this room."
"You … you mean you want us to move into here?"
