Eight
They’d eaten the pork and beans for dinner and then drank some water, but now that the sun had gone down, they sat in the pitch-black, chewing gum and talking to keep their spirits up. Adelaide was across the aisle from him in the sleeping bag. He was wrapped in the blankets. But it was getting so incredibly cold he knew they’d soon have to huddle together. He would’ve suggested it already. They’d both be more comfortable if they gave in and made the most of what they had in each other. But he was afraid she’d assume he was using their situation as an excuse to touch her again, probably because he wanted to touch her again and shut out the desperation of their situation, the same way they had last night.
“Do you miss her?” It was Adelaide who broke the silence that had fallen since Maxim had said he didn’t think this storm would be as bad as the last one. The rising wind seemed to contradict him, but he felt it was more important to remain positive than to acknowledge reality.
“Who?” His mind was on his girls and whether or not they’d been notified that he hadn’t reached L.A. Megan and Callie were in school at San Diego State, but they’d be home next week, just in time for Christmas.
“Chloe,” she said.
Her mention of his late wife drew him back to the conversation. “Why do you want to know?”
“I guess I’m wondering whether you’re as impervious as you seem.”
Impervious wasn’t the right word. But this wasn’t a subject he had any desire to discuss, so he tried to dodge it by answering her question with one of his own. “What do you think?”
“It’s hard to tell. You don’t reveal much emotion. Unless you’re angry. I can always tell when you’re angry.”
He hadn’t realized she watched him closely enough to be aware of his personal habits. He’d made an art out of pretending he didn’t notice her. For the most part, he even tried to convince himself of that. What she called “anger” was actually frustration, because he felt envious of a man he didn’t even respect.
“How can you tell?”
“There’s a muscle in your jaw that tightens, and your eyes glitter with hate,” she said.
Not hate—determination. She was wrong again. But at least he wasn’t as transparent as he sometimes feared. “When have I been angry around you?”
“You’re always angry when you’re around me,” she said with a laugh.
Apparently, she had no idea how hard he worked not to betray the fact that he was attracted to her. When they were in a room together, he had difficulty looking anywhere else. It was as if he could feel every breath she took, no matter how many people were crowded between them. It wasn’t until she’d decided to run against him that he’d begun to dislike her. When she jumped into the race, he’d been almost as relieved as he’d been worried.
“I think you’re mistaking preoccupation for anger.” He tried to sound as indifferent as possible.
“Maybe.”
He couldn’t tell if she believed him or not.
“Are you going to answer my question?” she asked.
“About Chloe?”
“Yes.”
“I miss her for the sake of my children.” He hoped that would suffice. When it came to his late wife, his emotions were too confused to analyze. Her perpetually negative outlook had made him unhappy. But they’d had children before their marriage completely fell apart so he’d decided to stick it out in spite of her instability and neediness. And then she’d been diagnosed with cancer and somehow he’d felt responsible, as if wishing to be rid of her had made it come to pass. Trying to turn pity and compassion into love hadn’t succeeded. He’d fallen short, been unable to do it, even for his children. Sometimes he still felt as though he wore a scarlet letter on his chest—a C for callous.
“You weren’t in love with her.”
“My decision to stay with her had nothing to do with my political aspirations, if that’s what you’re driving at.”
“You stayed because of Megan and Callie?”
He doubted she’d believe him, but it was the truth. “Yes.”
“That’s how you made carrying on after her death look so easy.”
Guilt washed over him. He hadn’t been capable of mourning Chloe the way he’d wanted to, the way a husband should mourn the loss of his wife, especially one who’d died in such sad circumstances. He’d never even hinted that she was a burden. And yet he couldn’t deny that there were moments when he recalled how much she’d changed after the birth of their second child, how difficult she’d become, and was glad to have her gone. She must have known he was merely tolerating her or she wouldn’t have taken her own life.
What did that say about him?
“Just because we didn’t share the same closeness you and Mark did doesn’t mean it was easy to watch her suffer. When I learned what she was facing, I would’ve traded places with her if I could.”
She didn’t respond right away. When she spoke, she didn’t question what he’d said, as he expected. She made an admission. “Mark and I were having problems when he died, too.”
The frank honesty of those words surprised him. Did she know about Mark? Did she suspect? “What kind of problems?”
“I’m not sure exactly. He got so wrapped up in politics he grew almost...secretive.” She gave an awkward laugh. “I was beginning to wonder if he was seeing another woman.”
It wasn’t another woman that’d taken Mark away, but Maxim had no plans to divulge what he knew, especially to Adelaide. He remained silent.
“I felt he was forgetting everything we’d promised each other, you know? Everything we’d once been to each other. We’d started off so strong, had so much fun together.”
Being aware of the truth made it awkward to talk about Mark, but it didn’t stop the jealousy that sprang up out of nowhere. “He was probably just busy, stressed,” Maxim muttered. “You know how it is in politics.”
“You think so?” she asked as if she valued his opinion.
He knew what she wanted to hear. “Of course,” he said but winced at the lie. Only a fool would cheat on a woman like Adelaide, but Mark had been a fool, and more.
As it grew noticeably colder, Maxim thought about getting in that sleeping bag with her. He wanted to keep her warm, but it felt as though they were the only two people on earth, and that made barriers of propriety hard to maintain. It was difficult to worry about tomorrow when he wasn’t sure he’d make it through today.
He talked about the election, what the governor must think now that they’d gone missing, what they’d be doing if they’d stayed in Tahoe, what his girls were taking in school. He was trying to keep their minds off the cold, but it wasn’t long before she interrupted.
“Are...are you g-going to stay over there all n-night?”
Her teeth were starting to chatter. He couldn’t let her lose too much body heat before joining her in that bag, but he was afraid his body would give away the fact that the intimacy they’d shared before hadn’t been strictly a matter of necessity. He’d wanted to make love to Adelaide Fairfax for a long time. He’d even dreamed about it on occasion—like after that chamber mixer they’d both attended in Roseville a couple of weeks ago.
“I’ll come over in a minute,” he said.
“Okay.”
He waited for his arousal to disappear, but every time it did, the thought of joining her brought it back.
“Maxim?”
He was leaning forward, resting his head in his hands. “Yeah?”
“W-what about now?”
He knew that asking required her to sacrifice her pride. She’d rather pretend she didn’t need him. For some reason, she tried not to need anybody.
Busy contemplating what to do, he didn’t respond, which prompted her to ask, “Hey, are you still there?”
At the panic in her voice, he closed his eyes. “Of course I’m here,” he said and took her hand. “I’m not going anywhere.”
“Oh. Right.” He expected her to let go, but she didn’t. She wound her fingers through his. “But...you d-don’t want to sh-share this bag with me?”
What the hell, he decided. Why worry about an erection? If he wasn’t hard already, he would be the second he touched her.
“Sure.” Silently cursing his unmistakable reaction to her, he felt his way over. With the dampness that seemed to permeate everything, their clothes hadn’t had a chance to dry. He was still in his boxers and she was in her underwear, but he stripped off his coat and Cox’s boots and climbed in. Then he used the blankets to cover the bag.
* * *
At first, Adelaide was timid about curling up against Maxim. They remained stiff, lying next to each other without speaking or moving. But as the minutes passed, she snuggled closer, eventually wrapping her arms around him. She could feel his erection pressing boldly against her abdomen—everything about Maxim Donahue was bold—but she didn’t react to his arousal. And he kept his hands to himself, letting her take what she wanted from his body without asking for anything in return.
Adelaide tried to be appeased by that, but she quickly realized one-sided cuddling wasn’t very satisfying. “Do you think you could act a little less...unwilling to be here?” she whispered.
He complied by shifting so she could lie on his shoulder, and she grew warm. She expected him to relax and drift off to sleep, but he didn’t. His erection remained firm and ready, an ever-present reminder of what they’d shared last night. Soon she caught herself changing positions so she could feel the pressure of it.
“Adelaide?” He spoke her name gruffly.
“Yes?”
“Any chance you could hold still?”
“Sure,” she said, embarrassed. But her embarrassment lasted only as long as her restraint. Reckless abandon seemed to be taking over. It started with a burning sensation low in her belly and was spreading through her veins, making her heart beat faster and faster, urging her to get on top of him...
“They’ll be here in the morning.” His voice sounded strangled, and she could feel the muscles in his arms and shoulders bunch as she straddled him.
“What if they’re not?” she whispered, moving to make the contact even more erotic. She knew what he wanted, and she was willing to give it to him. Why was he so reluctant? It wouldn’t be their first time...
“They will be,” he insisted.
“This could be our last night on earth.”
She thought he understood her point when his hands slid lower, curved possessively around her buttocks. But then he said, “I can’t pretend to be Mark again. If I make love to you, it’ll be because you want me, not him.”
So that was the problem.
Suddenly, all the desire that’d been pounding through her drained away. Not because she expected Maxim to be someone he wasn’t. She hadn’t been thinking about Mark. She’d been eagerly exploring a body that was nothing like her late husband’s. She’d forgotten all about him.
But that was exactly what was bothering her. She couldn’t believe it was possible to forget him so easily, especially with his worst enemy.
Sliding off Maxim, she turned away, trying to figure out how she could be so disloyal to the one man she’d promised to love forever.