Chapter 10

Max settled Emily closer on the leather sofa cushions, loving the curve of her bottom fitting against his groin. He lowered his nose to her delightfully mussed hair and inhaled the scent of citrus and satisfied woman.

She had gone so quiet and still that he whispered, “Are you asleep?”

“No, just hypnotized by the flames. And feeling very good.”

He dropped a kiss on the crown of her head. “May I return the compliment?” It was hard to believe that she was lying naked in his arms, something he’d fantasized about many nights at Camp Lejeune. The reality outstripped the dreams by miles, especially when he’d seen those outrageously sexy stockings. Those he hadn’t expected.

She was right when she said they’d both changed since those days in North Carolina. But that made their coming together all the more intense, because now they had more to offer each other.

He rubbed his cheek against her shoulder, enjoying the fact that he was permitted to touch her skin at last.

“Mmm,” she said, her voice a purr of contentment. “Feel free to continue.”

“I intend to.” Under the blanket, he ran his hand over the sinuous curve of her hip and thigh. “I’ve waited seven years to be able to do this.” He realized he’d spoken out loud and cursed his stupidity.

He felt a tremor run through her. “That’s a long time. I . . . I didn’t know you felt that way back then.”

Since he’d put his foot in it, he needed to see her face. Sliding the blanket off himself, he wrapped it around her and sat them both up on the sofa. He grabbed his trousers and pulled them on before he sat down again.

Emily’s gaze was on the fire, so he took her chin to turn her face toward him. “I knew it was wrong to want the wife of a man whom I both liked and admired. I couldn’t control my feelings, but I could control my behavior.”

“That’s why you avoided coming to dinner that last month,” she said, understanding in her eyes.

“Saying no to your invitations required almost superhuman self-denial. I desperately wanted to be near you, but it was also torture.”

“After you left, you never e-mailed or called Jake.” A look of horror crossed her face. “Did . . . did Jake find out? Is that why?”

“Oh, God, no! I never gave him any indication.” Max stared into the red heart of the fire. “I didn’t e-mail because it reminded me of you. And when I thought of you in that way, it felt dishonorable.” And made him ache with impossible longing.

“I’ve never considered myself that kind of woman.”

He turned back to see her press her hand against her cheek. “What do you mean? What kind of woman?”

She shook her head. “One that inspires those feelings in a man. Especially a man like you.” She let her hand drop and stared down at it resting on her lap. “You haven’t . . . waited for me, have you?”

“I didn’t expect to ever see you again.”

“I’m glad.” She threw him a quick glance. “I wouldn’t want you to be . . . alone.”

“When you walked into my office, I hated myself all over again for how I reacted to you.” He took her hand, twining his fingers with hers. “When you told me Jake had been killed, I hated myself more for not staying in touch. I was a coward, while Jake had the courage of a lion. I mourn his loss.”

“I know you do.” She gave his hand a gentle squeeze. “Because you’re a good man, just like he was. He wouldn’t begrudge us this. I’m sure of that.”

Relief flooded him, making him feel almost giddy. “However, he would be upset with me for not giving you the dinner I promised.”

“Oh, right. There was some mention of dinner.” Emily’s face lit with amused dismay. “I hope the butler hasn’t been hovering just outside the door, waiting to serve us.”

He lifted their joined hands and kissed her fingers. “He’s envying me right now.”

She flushed deep pink. “Seriously—”

“Seriously, the food is in that warming cabinet in the corner.” He nodded toward the windows.

She blew out a breath. “We still should put on some clothes.”

“I’d much rather you sat across from me wearing only your stockings.” He heard the rasp in his voice but couldn’t stop it. “I want to see the candlelight tracing the curves of your breasts.”

Her blush burned deeper. “Only if you take off your trousers.”

“Done.” Arousal raced through him as he shucked off his pants.

Her gaze dropped below his waist and then came back up again. She swallowed hard. “I’ve never done anything like this before. It seems kind of indecent.”

“That’s the point.”

*

Emily tightened her fingers around the blanket that still covered her. Could she really sit across from Max wearing nothing more than stockings he wouldn’t even be able to see?

She glanced at the table and realized it sat in front of a large expanse of glass. Even though they were at the top of a tall building, there were many other equally tall buildings nearby. “Aren’t you worried about blackmailers?” she asked.

“What?” His black brows knit in a frown of incomprehension.

“That window. Someone could see us, take photos.”

He laughed. “Oh, no, not a problem. It’s opaque to outside observers. A reflective coating.”

She considered the fact that she had remained in his mind for seven years. There must be something about her that he found pretty darned attractive. Gathering up her nerve, she stood and released her grip on the throw. The soft fabric drifted down her bare skin to settle in folds around her stocking feet.

Max’s face went taut with desire, and he hissed in a breath. “Maybe I overestimated my self-control,” he said.

A delicious sense of power surged through her. She turned and walked slowly toward the table, putting a deliberate sway in her hips. She knew he was aware of every movement she made, so she combed her fingers through her hair to fluff it over her shoulders.

A low, rough groan resonated from just behind her, making her jump. She hadn’t heard him follow her.

His arms came around her waist as he yanked her back against him, his hands drifting up to cup her breasts so he could run his thumbs over the nipples. Bolts of pure pleasure scorched through her, making her gasp and drop her head back against his shoulder. She could feel him harden against her bottom. His mouth was on her neck, nipping and sucking. Desire pooled at the juncture of her thighs.

“Emily,” he breathed against her neck. “I played with fire, and now I’m burning.” He slid one palm down her torso and slipped a finger between her legs, testing inside her. Another growl vibrated from deep in his throat. “You’re wet.”

She put her hand over his and pushed him farther into her, trying to fill the new ache he’d stirred to life. “Just what you need to put out the fire,” she said.

He stroked in and out of her enough to make her squirm against him. Leading her to an oversize armchair, he seated himself before he tugged her toward him. “Kneel over me,” he said, releasing her hand to roll on a condom he’d scooped off the floor by the sofa.

She braced her hands on his bare shoulders, the muscle over bone giving her a strong foundation to balance on. Then she put one knee on the chair cushion and swung the other one over so she was poised just above his jutting cock.

He took hold of her hips, saying, “I want this to be slow, because I want to watch you take me inside you.”

She felt the tip of him brush against her. Her internal muscles rippled in anticipation. “Slow works for me.”

He positioned himself and guided her down until he was just barely within her. Then he gripped her hips again. “Perfect. You’re perfect,” he said.

Ever so gradually, he brought her lower, so that she could feel every centimeter of him glide into her, stretching, filling, tantalizing. His gaze was downward where they joined, but she watched him, the way arousal pulled the angles of his face taut. She felt the strength of his grip, his fingers flexing into her flesh.

As her knees folded, he suddenly pulled her down and thrust upward at the same time, seating himself deep inside her. Their voices mingled in a wordless cry of satisfaction and excitement.

“Now,” he said, lifting his hands to her breasts, “I’m going to make you come.” He leaned forward to take one nipple between his lips, drawing on it until she grabbed his head and pulled him away.

“The other one,” she begged.

“Of course.” He moved and teased her other breast until she was rocking on his lap, grinding against him and making his cock shift inside her.

He wedged one finger against her clit and drove her higher by stroking exactly where she needed it. The tension in her belly wound tighter and tighter. His mouth on her breast grew more insistent, the edge of his teeth sending ribbons of delicious sensation down her body. Through it all his cock stayed hard and thick inside her, making her muscles work to wrap around it, to begin their clench of release.

As it began she sat motionless, everything focused on the rainbow moment just before the explosion. And then she was arching back, screaming his name, squeezing him, releasing him, squeezing him, releasing him. It was too much, and she collapsed down over him, her head on his shoulder, her breasts compressed against his chest, the convulsion of her muscles growing weaker and weaker.

She felt the flush of satisfaction on the surface of her skin as the heat danced over and through her like the northern lights.

“I need to move,” Max said, his hips pulsing.

She nodded against his shoulder, and he lifted her enough to allow him to withdraw partially before he drove into her again. She’d thought she was done, but the rhythm made her nerve endings waltz with him, starting little tremors that expanded and sent her tumbling into another orgasm. As he bowed up from the chair, she rode his hips while he shouted and pumped and dug his fingers into her waist.

Afterward, they folded in on each other, shuddering and panting together. Emily felt his heart pounding as she curled against his chest. A secret little smile tilted the corners of her mouth. She had done that to him.

“Let me catch my breath. After that, I promise I will let you eat,” Max huffed against her hair.

“Maybe we should try putting some clothes on this time,” Emily suggested.

“So much for my fantasy.”

“Next time,” she said. His arms twitched and tightened around her. She tilted her head in an effort to see his face. “What is it?”

He smiled down at her. “What is what?”

She shrugged. It must have been her imagination or an orgasmic aftershock. She snuggled back into him.

“All right, food,” he said after a few moments, patting her bottom.

She was still drifting in a blissful haze of satiation. “Must we move?”

“Unless you want a cold buffet instead of a hot dinner.”

She disentangled herself from his arms and started toward their scattered clothing.

“May I suggest a compromise for dinner attire?” he asked as he stripped off the condom. “You wear my shirt and I’ll wear my trousers.”

“Deal.” She scooped up his shirt and slid her arms into the sleeves, the soft cotton caressing her sensitized skin. She left a nice stretch of cleavage exposed in the neckline and rolled back the cuffs.

“I’ll never launder that shirt again,” he said, flicking open one more button so that most of her breasts were exposed. “That’s better.”

“When you do that, I’m not sure this is much different from wearing nothing,” Emily teased.

“Oh, believe me, it is.” He twined his fingers with hers and led her to the table, holding the chair for her.

His shirttail was long, but her bare skin still brushed the satin of the chair seat. It sent a little tingle into her core.

“What’s on the menu besides me?” Emily asked, giving him a wicked smile.

He held up a hand. “Don’t, or you’ll find yourself stretched out over the tablecloth with me between your legs.”

She laughed, reveling in her effect on him.

He rolled the warming cabinet to the table and pulled two covered bowls from the top shelf. “Hot potato-leek soup. A favorite of mine for wintertime.”

It was thick, creamy, and hearty. She gulped down the entire bowl.

“Worked up an appetite, did you?” He smiled across the half-burned candles, his posture more relaxed than she’d ever seen him.

“Didn’t you?”

He chuckled and returned the empty bowls to their shelf before he set out plates, lifting the covers with a flourish. “Venison chops with dried cranberries, shallots, and a little side pot of polenta and cheese.”

She inhaled, letting the warm scents rise and mingle in her nostrils. “Yum. So who made this?”

“My chef. I prefer not to cook myself.”

Because he’d had to do it too often as a kid, as she remembered. “I’d like to have a personal chef . . . and so would Izzy,” she said. “Do you tell him what to make, or does he just surprise you?”

“She,” he corrected as he cut a piece of venison. “Both. I don’t eat here that often because of business commitments, so we don’t always have time to consult on menus. However, I chose this selection of food.” The intensity of his gaze let her know that he had considered this an important occasion, which added some extra sparks to her afterglow.

“If I had a view like this, I’d eat at home every night,” she said. “You must love this place.”

He shifted in his chair, bringing her attention to the sculpted planes of his bare shoulders and chest, his skin golden in the candlelight. Now that she knew how delicious he felt under her palms, she wanted to touch him even more.

He picked up his fork and twirled it between his fingers. “I’ve sold it.”

“Sold what?”

He swept the fork around the room. “This place. I’m moving to Chicago at the beginning of January. But it won’t change anything between us. I have a private jet. I can fly here, or you and Izzy can fly there on weekends.” He gave her a smile that was meant to seduce. “I’ll bet Izzy would enjoy a private jet.”

Emily was trying to absorb the sudden wallop to her chest. He was leaving? And he’d known it when he started this? She took a gulp of wine before she managed to force out, “Why Chicago?”

“I sold V-Chem Industries to MatCorp. Part of the deal was that I would continue to do polymer research for them, and their lab is in Chicago.” He rolled his shoulders, making the muscles undulate. “I was planning to go out there for the holidays to get set up, but I’ve changed my mind.” Another persuasive smile.

“I hear Chicago is a great city.” And about a thousand miles away from New York. Every organ in her body sank in dismay. She’d just found this man who made her feel in ways she’d forgotten she could . . . and now he was being taken away.

He reached across the table to lay his hand on hers. “Don’t look at me like that.”

“I don’t know how I’m looking right now.”

“Shocked and unhappy.”

“Well, that describes my current feelings accurately,” she said, an edge of anger in her voice. Why hadn’t he told her?

Because three dates did not constitute a relationship, despite their history together. She had no right to be angry with him. She shook her head and turned her hand up to squeeze his. “I’m sorry. It’s just that . . .” She turned her head toward the window as she blinked back tears. “It seems a shame to have just reconnected and then to have you vanish again.”

“Did you hear what I said?” He leaned in, his voice low and urgent. “We’ll fly back and forth. With a private jet, it’s even less trouble than driving. You just walk on the plane and enjoy the ride. And it’s only a couple of hours in the air.”

She knew he was trying to tempt her, but the private jet just accentuated the gulf that already existed between them.

“That’s a nice thought,” she said. “But I’m not a believer in long-distance relationships.” She looked down at their hands with a sad smile. “I’ve been married to a Marine, so I know how difficult separation is. I’m not going to do that to myself or Izzy again.”

“I’m not being deployed to a foreign country,” he said. “It’s completely different.”

She looked up at him, his dark eyes laser focused, his hair rumpled from her fingers, his mouth tempting even as he frowned. The women in Chicago were not stupid or blind. They would hurl themselves at him, and eventually his trips to New York would become less and less frequent. There would be more business meetings in Chicago or some such excuse.

Despite the time they’d known each other before, they didn’t have enough of a foundation to withstand such an immediate parting.

But she wasn’t going to say all that. Instead, she tried to lighten the mood. “You might not get deployed, but after hearing your stories about lab disasters, I’m still worried for your safety.”

His grip on her hand went tight. “Don’t,” he said. “You’ve just come into my life again. I don’t want to lose you.”

She made a gesture of frustration with her free hand. “Be realistic. We lead such different lives. I have a child to worry about. I don’t want her to get attached and then have things not work out.”

“That could happen even if we both lived here.”

“Yes, but we wouldn’t be starting with two strikes against us already.” She made herself look him in the eye. “Izzy and I have suffered two significant losses in the last three years, Jake and Aunt Ruthie. I don’t think we can handle another one so soon. It’s better not to . . . raise false hopes.”

She meant it was better not to let the pain slice any deeper, because she already had hopes. Far too many of them. She’d let the past bleed into the present, believing she knew this new Max as well as she’d known the younger one. Yet she’d had no idea he was doing something as major as moving a thousand miles away.

“Is that what you think I’ve been doing? Leading you on in some way?” Now he was angry.

“No, I’ve been doing it to myself.” She softened her voice. “We think we know each other, but we don’t. Seven years is a long time, and we’ve been through major upheavals. I’ve lost a husband and a beloved aunt, as well as moving to a strange city. You’ve built a multinational company and now sold it. You’re in demand as a brilliant researcher. It’s a huge chasm already. Then consider throwing a lot of miles in between.”

“You could move to Chicago.” His voice vibrated with yearning.

“You know that’s not possible. My safety net, Izzy’s community and mine, are here now. In Chicago, all we would have is you. And that would put a whole different set of stresses on us.”

“Don’t make your final decision tonight,” he said. “You’ve had a surprise. I should have told you sooner.”

“If you’d told me sooner, I would never have come here. I would never have known what it was like to make love to you.”

He looked shaken. “Do you regret it?”

“Not for a second. You’ve reawakened the part of me that’s simply a woman—not a mother, not a child-care director—a part that’s been buried for too long.” She smiled. “I’ll always be grateful to you for reminding me she exists.”

“Jake always complained about this.”

“What?”

“He said when you made up your mind, no amount of arguing would change it.” He brushed his thumb over her knuckles. “I didn’t believe him. Back then I didn’t understand that what drew me to you was not just your compassion but your strength. It makes you the woman I’ve wanted, but I hate it.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.” The touch of his thumb made her feel like crying, because she would never feel it again. She gave him a wavering smile. “Maybe I should go home.”

He went still. “Stay. Please. I don’t want to let you go yet.”

“I can’t. Not like this.” She waved at the half-unbuttoned shirt she wore. It was too painful to be with him in such an intimate way when she knew it was over.

“No, I suppose not.” He huffed out a sigh of resignation before he let go of her hand.

She pushed back her chair and stood up. As she walked to the crumpled heap of her dress, she found herself holding together the neckline of his shirt in a futile gesture of self-protection.

She scooped up her dress and swiveled to look for her lingerie. Max stood a few feet away, holding out her panties and her bra, his face somber. He was so stunningly handsome that she felt his beauty as a physical blow. “Th-thank you.” She took the scraps of silk and turned away so she could slip the panties on under his shirt. As she unbuttoned it, she lowered her nose to the fabric to inhale a last breath of his scent.

When she started to let the shirt slide off her shoulders, she felt his fingers at the collar, a featherlight touch on her neck as he took it from her. Her back still to him, she pulled the dress on over her head, closing her eyes as he zipped it up without her asking. When he moved her hair aside to finish the task, he pressed his lips against the side of her neck and sent a shiver floating over her skin.

It was pure torment.

She spun around to face him. “Please don’t come with me in the limousine.”

He jerked backward as though she’d slapped him. “But—”

“One goodbye here,” she said. “That’s all I can bear.”

He nodded, but his lips were twisted with unhappiness as he shrugged into his shirt and buttoned it. He fetched her coat and walked beside her to the elevator. When they reached the door, he thumbed the keypad to open it before he raked his fingers through his hair. “After seven years, this is it?” he said.

Sorrow for his obvious desolation rattled in her chest. She stepped into him and rested her hands on his shoulders. “I will always remember tonight and you,” she said. Rising onto her toes, she touched her lips to his. He slid his hands into her hair on either side of her head, tilting it so he could angle his mouth against hers in a way that seared through her.

Pulling back, she lurched into the elevator and turned to watch the doors slowly close Max out of her life.

*

Max sat at the table, drinking glass after glass of the wine he’d so carefully chosen for Emily. It was doing nothing to assuage the ache of her absence. The absence that would last for the rest of his life.

He could hardly believe that she’d burst into his office a mere six days ago. He’d lived a lifetime since then, convinced he had a shot at finally grasping his heart’s desire. She’d begun to open up all the closed doors of his past, letting the fresh breeze of her understanding sweep out the ugly dirt.

And tonight. He swallowed the rest of the wine in the glass and poured another. Tonight had gone beyond his wildest fantasies. Touching her body, being inside her, making her come. His cock stirred as he pictured her walking toward the table with nothing on but her lace-topped stockings. And what they’d done after that. Truth was, he hadn’t expected the sex to be so hot. He’d thought of Emily as sweet, even a little innocent, despite the obvious physical affection between Jake and her.

He would never be able to get those stockings out of his head.

Standing up, he took the wineglass with him and stared out the window.

Emily didn’t believe in him enough to give the relationship a chance. After six days. He winced. When he considered it that way, her refusal spoke of simple common sense.

Maybe he just wasn’t meant to be happy. Maybe the emotion was simply impossible for him. Maybe somehow Emily sensed that and ran before she got infected with the gray fog that shrouded him.

But the hope had gotten to him. Made him think he had found his home with her. When he’d cradled her in his arms, he’d felt peace seep into his bones. It was what he’d sensed seven years ago.

He’d made millions . . . no, billions of dollars since then. And it was doing him absolutely no good in this situation. So what the hell had been the point?

He’d done it to try to ward off the emptiness. To surround himself with so many things that he might finally feel secure. But now he understood that it hadn’t worked.

Now that he’d felt the real deal, he knew what he was missing. He turned and hurled the wineglass toward the fire, watching it splinter against the marble mantelpiece, the shards clinking like glass rain onto the hearth.

Then he dropped his head into his hands and let out a long, low moan.