by Brandi Evans
Written in Max’s neat handwriting were three words that broke my heart.
I’m sorry, Bree.
Oh god. I crushed my hands—and the card—to my face, but the action didn’t stop the flow of tears. Max wasn’t coming back to me.
Aimee’s arms slipped around me. “Bree? What did the card say?”
“I’m… I’m sorry.”
“Sorry for what?”
I shook my head. She didn’t understand. “The card…
said… I’m sorry.” My legs buckled under my weight.
“Come on, mi amiga. Let’s get you to the couch.”
I didn’t fight her as she helped me to the sofa. On the contrary, I collapsed against the cushions and cried.
And cried.
I didn’t come out of my office for the rest of the day.
* * * * *
I felt like a well-worn book. Used, abused and then put back on the shelf to be ignored.
When I’d finally made it home, I’d pulled on my favorite bedclothes—an old tank top and a pair of cheerleader shorts. After wearing sexy nighties all day, they were the last thing I wanted to wear when home alone.
I kicked my feet onto the coffee table I hadn’t yet been able to send to the dump. Damn you, Max. I could have helped you through this if you’d only trusted me enough.
But he hadn’t, and once again, I was alone.
My overweight tabby cat—appropriately named Tabby—jumped onto the cushion beside me and demanded attention. Glad for the interruption, I tugged her onto my lap and started scratching her behind the ears, but she immediately rolled to her back so I could give her ample tummy some love.
“Spoiled cat. At least I know you won’t ever leave me, Tabs. I’m positive no one else would put up with such a needy feline.”
She nuzzled my chin with the top of her head.
“Yep, you’ll be here forever. Unlike some people.”
But I guess some good news came from that devastating card. At least I knew Max wasn’t dead or in a coma somewhere. That had to be a plus… right?
I rolled my eyes. Please, god, let him come back to me.
A knock slammed against my door.
My heart leapt up about twenty beats per minute and I jumped with such force I sent poor Tabby hurtling toward the floor—she hightailed her fuzzy self down the hall and out of sight.
I glanced to the grandfather clock on the far wall. Ten
’til ten. I wasn’t expecting company. Shit, Garrett and Karen. I’d forgotten to call them to say I’d heard from Max, but surely, they wouldn’t have been able to get here soon. Or find my place for that matter.
“Bree, it’s me. Open up.”
Oh my god. I’d recognize that voice anywhere.
“Max?” I called.
“Yes. Now please open the goddamn door before I break it down!”
Like Tabby, I launched from the sofa. Max was here.
A very agitated Max but still…
I turned the deadbolt, pulled the door open—and a full-body kiss slammed me right back the way I’d come.
Max pushed me deeper into the apartment, kicking the door shut behind him. No hello. Nothing. Just wham!
His tongue captured mine, demanding my unconditional surrender, and his hands… shit, they were everywhere. No, not everywhere. My waist.
In a series of aggressive tugs and pushes, he wrenched my shorts and panties to my knees and, without warning, spun me face-first against the wall.
Before I could ask what the hell was going on, the echo of a zipper sent my heart into a near frenzy.
Seconds later the hard head of his cock breached my entrance and slid tight and deep into my pussy in the same down-to-business way his kisses had punished my mouth a moment ago.
My eyes rolled back as his sex stretched me, my body readjusting to the way his length had filled me before. His hands fitted around my wrist and he started pounding.
“Bree,” he panted. “Mmm, Bree… ”
I would have been in heaven, but some elusive timbre in his voice tickled my brain. I turned and looked at him over my shoulder. Conflict painted his face.
“Max… ”
His lips attacked mine and he plowed even harder into my sex. No finesse. No concern. Just hard, brutal fucking.
“Bree… shit. Shit! ”
His ramming lost rhythm and he tore away from me, finishing his climax with his own hand, his seed spilling onto my hardwood floors. Not the kind of floor polish I generally used, but at least he’d had the mental capacity to think about protection. I, on the other hand, had been too stupefied to comprehend much of anything. Still was in fact.
That had to have been the least tender sex I’d ever had, and yet somehow, it wasn’t. The anguish in his voice when he’d said my name told me this hadn’t been about simple release. It wasn’t some any-cunt-in-a-lust-storm-will-do kind of thing. No, somewhere buried in all the caveman bravado, caring lurked.
Max’s hands slid around my waist again—but much gentler than before. Trace amounts of his seed warmed my right side, strangely erotic, and I shivered.
He kissed the side of my neck. “Part of me had hoped fucking you again wouldn’t feel so damn right.
But I guess it answers some of the questions that have been plaguing me all week.”
“Questions?” I stayed where I was, almost afraid to hear the answer.
His hands slid forward, under my tank top, and enveloped my breasts. “God, I missed you, Bree.”
It wasn’t an answer, but nonetheless his words sent warmth coursing through my body just as effectively as any orgasm. My brain reeled. Max had missed me, needed me. That had to be a good start, right?
I sighed. “I missed you too.”
He pressed his cheek against mine. “I’m sorry I haven’t returned your phone calls. I’m sorry I ran. I’m sorry for being a dick. I’m just… sorry.”
The words I’d read on his card earlier today— I’m sorry, Bree. Did they actually mean…
I turned in his arms, tugging my shorts back into place as I spun. I examined his eyes, shocked by the turmoil swirling in the blue depths. But hidden amongst the darker hues, relief jockeyed for position.
“You sent me flowers today. Is this why you wrote
‘I’m sorry’ on the card?”
He nodded. “I thought I’d send you a peace offering before simply showing up at your door.”
“A peace—” Relief slammed my eyes shut and I laughed. “I thought… ”
His hands settled on either side of my neck, holding me, comforting me. “Thought what, sweetheart?”
“That the note was your way of telling me you didn’t want to be with me, apologizing because our relationship was over before it even began.”
He looked shocked but then immediately pulled me close, rested his cheek against the top of my head. “I’m not sure anything could keep me away from you.
Especially now. I could barely stay away from you before… ”
I wanted to cry, but apparently I’d exceeded my daily allotment of tears. “Why were you trying to stay away?” I asked, hoping he would take the bait and finally tell me about the guilt weighing down his heart.
“It’s a long, complicated story, love. If you’re still interested, I—”
I silenced him with a hard kiss. “I’m not letting you walk away from us again, Max. Not again.”
Relief seized his features for an instant—but only for an instant. “Let’s sit. There’s so much I need to tell you.”
* * * * *
Max sat beside me on the couch and worried a bottle of Michelob Ultra between his hands. He looked so unlike the Maxwell Penn I’d come to know, respect and lust after.
On the surface he was the same sexy professional he’d always been. Fresh suit, blond hair a messy perfection. But emotionally he was obviously a wreck. A week’s worth of stubble scuffed his cheeks. The lines on his forehead carved deeper, were more pronounced. The same went for the wr
inkles below his eyes. He looked as if he’d aged seven years in the span of seven days.
I took the beer from his hands and laced my fingers with his. It was past time he kicked his remorse to the curb, but since he was having trouble starting the conversation, I decided to give him a prompt.
“You and Gina separated just before she died.” I kept the knowledge of her suicide to myself. For now at least.
His forehead bunched together. “How’d you—”
“Tricia told me.”
“Oh.”
I couldn’t tell if he was annoyed or relieved I knew.
“Don’t get mad at her. She wasn’t gossiping or anything.
I honestly think she assumed you’d already told me, seeing as I was at your house. Which, according to her, was a big deal.”
“It was. I don’t like people invading my sanctuary.”
“I’m glad you trusted me enough… ” Which was my not-so-subtle way of telling him he could trust me now.
He nodded and I knew he understood.
Gathering me in his arms, he laid us back on the couch. “I’ve already told you Gina and I rushed into marriage. We met through a friend of mine and just hit it off. Within two months we were married.”
And a month later, he’d hired me to run Red Light.
“Everything seemed fine at first,” he said, “but then she began acting weird. I told you she was bipolar but what I didn’t tell you was that I didn’t find out about her illness until after her death.”
I sat back up and looked at him. “You didn’t…
know?”
“Sadly, no. I mean, I knew something was wrong, and I tried over and over again to get her to see a doctor but she refused.” He ran a hand through his hair. “She’d been diagnosed in her teens and had a history of going on and off medication. And apparently, she went off her medication sometime after we got married.”
My heart ached for him. “How’d you find out?”
“At her funeral. After her father accused me of killing her by not forcing her to take her medications.” He put the word “forcing” in air quotes. “I had no clue what medications he was talking about—”
“Oh god.” My hands flew to my mouth. “That’s awful.”
He nodded. “Not that my ignorance stopped her dad from blaming me.”
“Her death wasn’t your fault, Max,” I said quickly.
“She hid her illness from you, refused to let you help her
—”
“But she did ask for my help.” He closed his eyes.
“At the end. But I’d already turned my back on her.”
“Oh Max… ” I hugged him tightly, trying to soothe away his pain.
“She promised me she’d get help if I’d let her come back, but I said no. I told her our marriage was over. That I was—” His voice broke and he took a steadying breath before he finished. “I told her I was already interested in someone else.”
My mind tried to wrap around his confessions. “You told her you were interested in me.”
“Not in those words.” He cradled my chin in his right hand. “But yes, Bree, I wanted more from you than a boss-employee relationship.”
“And that’s why you asked me to stay late that night?”
He nodded. “I didn’t know how you might respond to my advances so I wanted to test the waters in a familiar setting.”
“The dinner and wine over expense reports?”
“Yes.” He pulled me closer. “I’d planned to tell you Gina and I had split up but—”
The night flashed back in vivid detail. “But you’d rushed out so suddenly after going to your office to check your voice mail.”
He nodded. “Garrett was supposed to call back about my initial idea for the Risque line. But what I discovered was seventeen voice mails from Gina. She kept threatening to… to kill herself if I didn’t take her back. I called her as soon as I got the messages, but she didn’t answer.”
My heart broke a little more and I repeated the only words my brain could muster. “Oh Max… ”
“I called Tricia and told her to search the house—I’d recognized the calls were coming from my residence—
and then I called the paramedics. But it was too late, Bree. I pulled into the driveway at the same time as the coroner.”
I hugged him tighter. What else could I do? Say?
“I imploded emotionally after that,” he continued.
“Spent as much time back in Britain as I could. I was a permanent fixture in Karen and Garrett’s house—as well as their bed, but that’s an entirely different tale.”
“And all the time, guilt was keeping you away.”
“Unfortunately.” His hands smoothed over my back.
“Every time I saw you, thought about what we’d almost had, which also reminded me of how I failed Gina.”
I totally understood what he was saying, but he’d gotten a key point wrong. “You didn’t fail Gina,” I said.
“She failed herself.”
He looked at me, a question in his eyes.
“She failed herself by keeping her illness a secret.
Failed herself when she stopped taking her meds. Failed when she refused to get help, even though you asked her to. Hell, even her family failed her by not telling you about her illness sooner. You might have gotten caught up in all the madness, Max, but Gina did this to herself.”
“But—”
“You tried to help her, Max. Didn’t you?”
“Yes, but—”
I pressed my lips to his, stopping him from mounting another argument, then kept him there. I didn’t let go, even when he tried quite pitifully to pull away.
My arms constricted around his broad shoulders and held on. I kissed him until the evidence of his arousal pressed hard and hot against my covered pussy. But even then, I didn’t stop.
I rocked my heat against his cock. My tiny shorts and the thin material of his pants offered little deterrent to the erotic bonfire of my dry-humping. Each thrust kicked my arousal up another notch. His hands slipped under my shirt and he palmed my breasts, squeezing, demanding.
Only when he groaned my name did I pull back.
“Does this feel guilty, Max?”
He squeezed my breasts in response.
“You have nothing to be guilty about. I understand your feelings. I do. I really, really do. But you’re as much of a victim in this as she was. She robbed you of a year with me… ”
God I hoped my comment didn’t sound crass. I didn’t mean to be rude, or to undermine Gina’s complex illness, I just wanted to show him Gina’s death wasn’t his fault, that her death had cost him greatly too.
He cradled my face in his hands. “I’d never thought of it that way.”
I cradled his face right back. “I’ll help you get through this, Max. I promise. I’ll do whatever I can to help ease your pain.”
“You’ve already done so much.” He smiled, a real smile to boot. Nothing forced. Nothing meant to cover his grief. “I don’t want to rush things between us like I did with Gina, but on the other hand, I’m ready to pack you up now and move you into my place and never let you go.”
I really liked the sound of that. “How about we start with the weekend?”
His arms tightened around me. “Sounds divine.”
“And come Monday, I just might call in sick.”
A smile toyed with the left side of his mouth. “What about your boss? Don’t you think he might get upset?”
“Nah.” I pressed a quick kiss against his lips. “I’ve got him wrapped around my little finger.”
“Of that, my love, I have no doubt.”
Chapter Seven
I cradled Tabby against my chest as I stepped from the driver’s side of the Jaguar Max had lent me. After packing for the weekend, I’d followed him back to his place so I could bring the Jag back, but truth be told, I didn’t want to part with this baby. Compared to my economical Ford Fusion, this car drove like a, we
ll, a Jaguar.
Max chivalrously retrieved my two overnight bags from the trunk, and considering the look of fulfillment on his face as he led me into his house, I doubted I’d be spending too many nights away from this place.
“I was thinking,” he said, “after we get settled, we could go for a dip in the hot tub. Share a bottle of wine.
I’d like to unwind a bit before bed.”
“I can think of some other ways to help you unwind,” I said, mustering the sexiest 1-900-voice I could manage.
He grinned. “Why not do both?”
“Mmm, now that sounds promising.”
Tricia met us at the door with a smile—and a wink.
“It’s good to have you back, Ms. Jennings,” she said to me.
“Thanks, Tricia. It’s good to be back.”
She turned to Max. “Mr. Penn, I found a couple of foreigners lurking around outside, so I showed them to the rejuvenation room.”
“Really?” Surprise saturated his features.
Tricia nodded.
Max dropped the suitcases on the kitchen tile.
“Tricia, will you take care of Bree’s luggage while we greet our guests?”
Our guests. As in mine and his. Loved it!
Max took me by the hand and tugged. “Come on, love.”
I waved at Tricia as we passed. “Who’s here?” I asked Max when we were out of earshot.
“You’ll see.”
Cryptic much?
Max led me through the living room and off toward the back of the house, in the opposite direction of his bedroom. When we neared an open double-glass door, the scent of chlorine and—I took a deep breath—
something sweet and tropical tickled my senses.
“What’s that scent?”
“That’d probably be the orange blossoms you’re smelling.” He ushered me through the door. “There was a spa Garrett and I frequented often during our youth, and the place always smelled of orange blossoms.”
“In other words, they remind you of home?” I was about to ask him if he’d ever thought about moving back to Britain, but the beauty of the room distracted me.
Keeping in concert with the rest of the house, three of the four walls consisted of primarily glass, giving the room an open feel. The rest of the walls, as well as the majority of the other surfaces, were constructed from the same rock material that made up the outside of the house. A T-shaped pool stretched the room, reminding me somewhat of the Venice canals. Purple and pink lights shimmered beneath the water giving the surface the same color as the sky at sunset. A large hot tub, sauna and sitting area completed the peaceful picture.
