CHAPTER TEN
Max’s Magic Rule #11:
Perfect the art of looking happy even when you’re miserable.
By the time Max pulled up in front of Grace’s hotel, he had less than fifteen minutes to get to the theater and prep before the show. It was probably for the best, anyway. Grace was silently staring out the passenger window, just as she had been doing for the last half of their drive. Granted, she’d done it while he’d been holding her hand—mainly because every time she tried to pull away, he refused to let her—but he knew despite allowing that physical closeness, she was freaked out and scrambling to reinforce all the walls he’d managed to partially break down.
Partially, he thought, because he knew he hadn’t even begun to break down Grace’s walls or see all of her.
Hell, this morning he didn’t have a clue he was going to see her, yet since then she’d pole- and lap-danced for him, dry humped him, given him a blow job, touched herself in front of him, and let him go down on her until she came. All that from and with the woman who’d not only never had an orgasm with a man before, but proclaimed sex wasn’t the be-all-end-all—and was determined to devote all her future time and energy toward having a baby rather than finding a man who could satisfy her sexually, emotionally, romantically and in every other way that counted.
So now what?
Other than what he’d already told her, he had no clue. Other than intending to spend more time with her—making her come every way there was, and maybe even some ways that hadn’t been thought of yet—Max wasn’t sure what role he was going to be playing in Grace’s life.
But he knew one thing.
If he had anything to say about it, he was damn well going to have a bigger role in her life than her best friend’s brother-in-law.
He wasn’t kidding himself. What they had right now—the passion and intoxication he felt just being with her—that wasn’t going to last. Their intense sexual connection was going to burn out just like it had with every other woman he’d been with. But he liked and respected her. When this week was over, he didn’t want to go back to being strangers who saw each other a couple of times a year then made polite small talk. He wanted a relationship with her, even if that relationship was friendship. It worked with Melina long before she married Rhys. It could work with Grace, too.
She’d have been his friend a long time ago if he hadn’t been so damn determined to stay away from her. And as her friend, he was more determined than ever to make her see how Operation Baby was the coward’s way out.
If he failed? If he had to watch Grace grow plump with someone else’s baby, and know that man was going to spend the next several decades sharing beautiful moments with her? He didn’t want to think about that.
Because thinking about it pissed him off. It also made him feel sad. And he couldn’t let himself feel either of those things.
About a half-hour ago, when he’d mentioned stopping by her hotel after his performance, she’d told him she was tired and needed a good night’s sleep in order to be ready for her Skype appointment with a baby daddy candidate. His first instinct was to ask if she was crazy. Even after proving you can have an orgasm with man, you’re still going forward with your ludicrous plan? His second instinct was to ask why she hadn’t told him about the appointment earlier, but he didn’t ask either one. Doing the first would just piss her off and likely make her bolt, something she was obviously far too willing to do. As for the second, he already knew why she hadn’t mentioned it. She either didn’t have an appointment, or she had an appointment and hadn’t wanted to mention it, but changed her mind because doing so would now would buy her the time her panic wanted.
Of all these possibilities, it was the last that made the most sense. Since he was shell-shocked himself from what happened between them, giving her space now seemed like the right thing to do. But that was only for tonight. Tomorrow he’d be back in her face, and that included talking to her before that Skype conversation.
Grace deserved better than an online-ordered baby-daddy. Both Grace and whatever child or children she’d have deserved a man in their lives who wanted to be there out of love and desire—not because of some prearranged coldly calculated bullshit. He should know. He’d been blessed with the best parents in the world. They modeled the type of relationship Max wanted if and when he ever found the right woman. The same type of relationship Rhys and Melina had.
Grace turned, looked at him and hesitantly smiled. “Thanks for everthin’, Max. It was fun.” As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she rolled her eyes and laughed. “Well, I think we both know it was more than fun. I’ll be busier than a cat on a hot tin roof tomorrow, otherwise I’d go to the theater with you.”
“You saw the show the other night.”
“You’re just that good, Sug—I mean, honey.” She lifted a hand and touched his lips, smiling when he kissed her. “Anyway, I know you’ve got to run. Have a great show tonight
“I’ll try,” he said. “Usually I love being on stage, but something tells me it won’t compare to anything else I’ve done today.”
She opened the car door, but when he moved to do the same, she placed a staying hand on his arm. “No need to get out. Goodnight, Max.”
“Goodnight,” he said quietly. He watched her make her away into the hotel before he forced himself to drive away.
Later, backstage in his dressing room, Max took a quick shower and changed into his special show-ready tuxedo, still unable to get his mind off Grace. He replayed everything they’d talked about and done in and out of his car. How shy and wistful she’d looked at his parent’s house. How afterwards she’d been literally shaking with her need for him. And how she’d initially fought her orgasm then surrendered herself to it so powerfully.
She’d exploded like fireworks on the Fourth of July—bright, beautiful, soaring and full of sparkle. He’d been so fucking turned on by how intensely she’d come, he’d almost come himself. But as amazing as her climax had been—and even though he’d been the one to give it to her—he couldn’t wait to give her one when he was inside her. Sure, mouths and fingers and toys could get someone off, but what Grace wanted, what she needed, was to come with a cock rooted deep inside her. She needed to come the way nature had built her to come.
And so did he.
He just had to get through tonight’s shows and then she was his.
***
Light pierced Grace’s eyelids, waking her. Groaning, she realized she must have forgotten to pull the blackout blinds in her hotel room. She rubbed her eyes and sat up in bed.
Her big, empty bed, which didn’t need to be empty.
Max could have been right here with her, finally sleeping after doing all kinds of wonderful things with her and to her last night.
Of course, he wasn’t, and that was all her fault.
“I’m dumber than a June bug on a string," she muttered as she fell back on the bed.
But not really, the practical voice in her head reminded her. She was right to give them some space from one another. After the events of yesterday, she needed it. She was confused. Doubting what she was doing here and even what she was going to do after she left, and that included Operation Baby.
Were Melina, Lucy and Max right? Was having a baby right now a bad idea?
No. All she had to do was remember how she’d felt at the Dalton house yesterday, watching Max with his parents, and Chloe with Donna. She wanted that kind of relationship with a child. She wanted family, and no matter how much pleasure Max gave her this week, he couldn’t give her that.
It was up to her to make it happen.
A knock sounded at the door. Her mind already on Max, her heart stuttered until she recalled arranging for breakfast delivery.
She brought in the tray, took a quick shower, then sat cross-legged in the middle of the bed to eat. Next to her bagel and cream cheese sat one of the local papers. She spread cream cheese over her bagel, then opened the paper to the society section.
There, smiling wide at the camera, was Max. It was a photo of him and Elizabeth from that night outside Lodi’s. Elizabeth looked gorgeous, wild-eyed and sexier than sin, her breasts pressed up against his arm so tight her dress gaped open. Not quite a nip-slip, but close.
And there was Grace, caught in a photo-bomb behind them, her devastation and confusion readily apparent.
Grace swallowed the large lump of bagel that stuck in her throat.
She looked like her heart had been broken.
If that wasn’t a wakeup call to keep her emotional distance with Max, she didn’t know what was.
A ping sounded on her phone. She grabbed it off the nightstand and read the text from the surrogacy agency. Her baby’s potential father needed to reschedule their Skype interview—to a half hour from now.
She glanced around. It wouldn’t take long to tidy her hotel room, but her hair was disastrous and she needed a little makeup.
Thirty minutes later, her hair pulled back in a French twist, and clad in her best professional button-up blouse and a pencil skirt, she sat in front of her laptop, screen open, nervously rubbing her sweaty palms on her thighs. Automatically, she set her phone to vibrate. The laptop screen beeped, then the smiling face of Robert Montgomery appeared.
“You must be Grace,” he said.
She studied him: thick blond hair professionally styled, a button-up in light blue, and he appeared to be seated in an office of some kind. On the walls behind him were various framed certificates or diplomas. A businessman then, but not overly successful or ostentatious. Probably someone who’d be at every little league game or dance recital. Who’d play ball with his son after getting home from work, or be the carpool dad.
Not someone constantly playing the game. Always in the public eye and loving every minute of it.
Only it no longer seemed to her that Max loved every minute of his life. He’d seemed happier throwing a ball with Houdini and spending time with her than she’d ever seen him on stage.
Yet…
She would not think of Max.
This moment was about Robert. And Operation Baby Daddy.
“Hello, Robert. It’s so nice to meet your acquaintance.” They spoke for a few minutes, exchanging pleasantries—careers, where they lived, favorite movies.
A vibration from her phone indicated a new text. Thinking of Melina and how worried Rhys was about her, she surreptitiously checked her phone.
Want to get naked tonight? It was Max.
She couldn’t help herself. She smiled even as she forced her gaze back to the computer screen, where Robert was elaborating on his days on a row team at Harvard.
Quickly, she texted back: Sure.
Boring response. Text me something hot.
Robert was talking about his own childhood and Grace fought to pay attention.
“Would you agree consistency is important?” he asked.
Yes, she thought. Consistency would be great. She’d finally had an orgasm with a man’s fingers and tongue inside her last night. When she and Max got naked together tonight, she was hoping for the same result—only she wanted his cock involved. Staring at the computer screen, Grace said, “If you mean in a shared parentin’ arrangement, yes. I think a child should have equal time with both parents.”
Robert frowned. “I meant consistency as in going to bed on time every night, even on weekends. Eating the same well-balanced diet week to week. An exact form of punishment and consequences at each home.”
Eating the same diet every week? She’d go crazy if she had to do that. What fun would it be if you couldn’t have pancakes for dinner every once in a while? Or a burger for breakfast? And what was that about punishment?
Are you wearing lace panties again?
Her cheeks flushed and her breathing escalated. She relived the moment Max ripped her lace panties off the night before and went down on her. The fact that Robert was still frowning, studying her as if he could read her mind, made her wriggle in her seat to ease the ache steadily building between her thighs.
She couldn’t imagine Max, let alone the Max who’d played with Houdini and Chloe yesterday, talking about eating the same thing or planning out ways to consistently discipline his child. He was too fun. Too vibrant. Too spontaneous for that. Look what happened when she’d begged him to pull over and kiss her.
He’d acted.
He’d sensed she needed more than that.
And he’d given it to her.
Robert didn’t look like he could rip a pair of panties off anyone, no matter how turned on he was. But then again, that wasn’t the job he was interviewing for.
She needed to focus on Robert, not on Max’s naughty texts.
She texted Max back anyway.
Cotton underwear.
I don’t believe you.
He shouldn’t, she thought with a smile. She always wore lace panties.
I’m in boring business attire.
Nothing about you could ever be boring, Dixie. Why business attire?
I’m Skyping with a potential candidate.
When he didn’t text back right away, she said to Robert, “I suppose we’d have to hone in on what each of us thinks is important. Make sure we’re in agreement with how to raise the child. There are parentin’ classes—”
“I’m not taking any parenting class,” Robert said. “I will be raising the child the way my parents raised me.”
Grace frowned. Was she supposed to know what that meant?
I thought that was scheduled for later?
He called early.
Is he everything you want?
No, she thought.
Not sure. He just said he’d raise the child the way his parents raised him. Which means a consistent diet and punishment. L
He’s an ass. Get rid of him. Now. If you don’t do as I say, I’ll punish you tonight.
She’d been thinking of getting rid of Robert-the-ass, too, but the moment Max mentioned punishment…
No, no. Stop thinking about Max tying you up and spanking you. Of making you feel so damn good it actually hurt. That wasn’t what a normal woman planning a family would want.
No matter how fabulous it was last night or is going to be tonight, she had to think of the future. You don’t have to love Robert, just make sure he’ll be a good father. She wasn’t going to make snap judgments.
She smiled sweetly at Robert. “I’d like to discuss what I consider important in raisin’ a child.”
Take off your panties. Finger your clit in a slow circle and imagine it’s my tongue.
A shiver ran through her, culminating at her core, which went from hot to incinerating.
Stop sexting me, you pig.
Take them off.
Will you leave me alone if I do?
He didn’t respond and she read both his silent dare and his refusal to agree to anything. It just ratcheted up her desire even more. But she’d already had one naked picture used against her and that had resulted in sexual misconduct charges at work. Did she really want to risk putting another picture out there?
Grace bit her lip. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust Max exactly. She’d trusted him enough to give him a blow job in a moving car. To beg him to kiss her and fuck her at the side of the road.
Her phone vibrated again.
I won’t ever do anything to hurt you.
Grace trembled and her knees went a little weak. Her fingers hovered over her phone before she quickly punched out: What if I want you to hurt me in a good way?
Almost a full minute went by before he responded.
Did writing that make you wet?
Not wet. Wetter. Soaking.
“Grace?” She heard the male voice, but because it didn’t belong to Max, she was momentarily confused. It took all her effort to direct her attention back to her computer.
“Are you okay?”
“Yes, I’m just havin’ trouble with how inflexible you seem.”
“Well, you’re a woman. Women follow the man’s lead. I mean—” Robert leaned forward into his computer camera, close enough that his face nearly filled her screen, bringing her attention back to him and away from Max’s texts.
“The agency said you were from the South,” Robert said. “I figured you’d act like a Southern woman.”
Her spine stiffened and she smacked her palms down on either side of the computer. Max had turned her on with his raunchy texts, but this man was eradicating her arousal with his sexist attitude.
“If by actin’ like a Southern woman you mean subservient to men,” she said, “you’re in the wrong century.”
“I disagree.”
He could disagree all he wanted. If he truly thought he was gettin’ a baby from her, he was dumber than a soup sandwich.
Grace tuned him out and instead looked at her phone. Quickly, she texted Max: He thinks I should act like a subservient Southern woman.
Don’t hang up on him. Take off your panties while he’s still on the line, then text me a picture of your beautiful body.
Robert’s voice brought her attention back to the computer screen. “So I’ll make the decisions, then. We’re in agreement?”
They were in agreement if she was a complete idiot and wanted a male chauvinist pig straight from the sixties to help raise her child. If Robert was any indication, it wasn’t going to be easy finding her baby daddy.
Grace. Panties. Pussy. Now.
She normally hated it when a man used the “p” word, but with Max… he had a gift for knowing when to use dirty talk and when to use a more subtle hand. He had the same wonderful instincts when it came to using his body.
She couldn’t help it. Couldn’t stop herself. She pushed the rolling office chair back from the desk. Keeping her eyes on Robert and trying to be as discreet as possible, she pulled her skirt up, wriggled her black lace panties off, spread her thighs and, holding her phone strategically under the desk, took a picture.
Then hit SEND.