Alina
MY PLACE WAS twenty minutes from the bar, and the first half of the ride was spent in silence, the tension building with every mile we drove. When the awkwardness became too much, I opened my mouth to speak, but surprisingly he beat me to it.
“So you never answered my question before.” He swung his body to face me, and I swore his hand made a grab for the front of his slacks, but the lack of light inside the cab couldn’t confirm my suspicion.
“What question was that?”
“What case are you working on?” Phew! Thankfully the topic was safe. I relaxed my shoulders.
“Domestic abuse. It’s one of my pro bono cases.”
“Really? Don’t you think that’s a little dangerous?” Max slung his arm over the back of the seat, his fingertips brushing the top of my shoulder.
“How so?” I asked, perplexed, moving back an inch in case he attempted to touch me again. I couldn’t be held accountable for what I might do given the confined space.
“Well, a lot of abusive men don’t take kindly to any help given to their wives or girlfriends.”
“How do you know my client is a woman?” He arched a brow. I continued on. “Just because her husband is a bastard does that mean I shouldn’t help her? She has two small children and is being tortured every day by him. She sought help, and I’m going to give it to her.”
“Just be careful. That’s all I’m saying.”
“I can take care of myself, thank you.” Why was I annoyed that he was trying to make sure I was safe? I knew the dangers when abusive men were involved. They were unpredictable, could lash out at anyone once their victims fled. I knew this, yet I acted as if there was no danger whatsoever.
Maybe I just didn’t want Max to see me as incapable. For some reason, what he thought of me was important.
Lost in thought, I hadn’t realized the cab had stopped and was idling by the curb.
“Is this your place?” Max asked, leaning over me to see out my window. I inhaled his scent, closing my eyes and making a soft sound. When I opened them, his face was close to mine, the corner of his mouth lifting.
“What?” It was an open-ended one-word question.
“Nothing.” Seconds passed where neither one of us moved, careful not to breathe too deeply for fear our bodies would touch.
“Hey, you two gettin’ out or what?” the cab driver called out, his body half angled toward the back seat.
When I didn’t move, a faint line appeared between Max’s brows. “Is this not your place?”
His voice knocked me from my haze, my fingers gripping the handle before pushing open the door. With one leg outside on the edge of the curb and one still inside the cab, I reached into my purse and pulled out the fare, but when I tried to pass it to the driver, Max playfully knocked my hand away.
“I got it,” he offered, replacing my money with his own.
“Aren’t you leaving?” Confusion rippled through me. Why was he getting out of the cab?
“Not yet. Not until I know you’re safe.”
“Then ask the driver to wait until I step inside.”
“I think I’ll walk you up, if that’s all right with you.” What was I going to say to that? I wanted to shout at him that I was fine, that I’d made it home every other night without his assistance. That I didn’t need someone watching over me. But another part of me, the dangerous part that wanted to throw all caution to the wind and live in the moment, shouted at me not to be stupid. To let Max accompany me just so I could spend more time in his presence.
He never let me make the final decision, however, stepping from the cab and walking around my side to hold the door open for me while I exited. The cab sped off as soon as Max slammed the door.
As we approached the bottom step of my townhome, Max whistled before turning to look at me, his eyes wide.
“Who lives here?”
“I do.”
“I know that. Who else?” His hand rested on my lower back as we slowly walked up the steps, each slab of concrete drifting underneath my feet as if they were going to crumble at any moment.
“Just me,” I replied, confused why he thought someone else lived there. Then it dawned on me that maybe he thought Chris and I lived together, and suddenly it was important I let him know that wasn’t true. “We don’t live together.”
His jaw tightened, and the only way I’d been able to see the flinch was because the landing lights were on. He seemed riled.
“Not yet,” he mumbled, resting on the top stoop and dropping his hand to his side. Awkward moments passed in silence, each of us facing the other, contemplating the end to the evening. When Max leaned back against the railing, I knew he wasn’t going anywhere, and the realization both thrilled and terrified me.
“Okay, well . . . um, thank you for seeing me home safely. Did you want me to call you a cab when I get inside?”
“I have a phone.”
“Right.” I attempted to insert my key into the lock but missed, a tangle of steel hitting the concrete at my feet. In a blur of motion, Max bent down to retrieve the keys but chose to stay crouched longer than necessary, his head level with my waist. His fingers ghosted over the side of my calf, and I shivered, taking a step back and knocking into the railing behind me.
“Sorry,” he grumbled, rising to his full height and towering over me. “I thought I saw a spider on you.” I knew damn well he was lying, but I didn’t call him out on it, instead choosing to bask in his beauty. It was an odd word for a man, but the description fit Max perfectly.
Masculine.
Refined.
Rugged.
Sexy.
Beautiful.
He stood so close I could smell the mint on his breath, swore I could feel the beat of his heart against his chest. Or was that mine?
“Alina,” he said gruffly, as if I had been caught doing something wrong. “Alina,” he repeated, stepping closer, if that were at all possible.
“Yes?” I swore I was weightless, crashing back down when I figured out just why he was saying my name.
“Your keys?” Max placed my keys in my palm, the pads of his fingertips traveling over my own until he dropped his arm to the side.
“Right.” The cold metal threw me back into the moment, one where I had to get my head out of the clouds and get back to reality. “Thank you for seeing me home. I guess I’ll see you at the office.”
“Actually, I could really use your bathroom if you don’t mind.”
The last time someone had asked to use my bathroom was Chris, and I’d reluctantly let him in, only for him to force himself on me. Sort of. Even though it was only a kiss, it had been unwanted. Thankfully he’d snapped out of it, apologized and left, and he hadn’t been over since. Not that I was banning him from my home, but the opportunity hadn’t come up. Work typically kept both of us busy.
“Sure,” I agreed, even though every cell in my body screamed at me it was a bad idea. I opened the front door, and we entered the foyer before I briskly walked toward the alarm. Punching in my code, I released a breath before turning back around to face Max.
He was busy taking in my home, peeking inside rooms and looking rather curious. “Damn, woman. What’s your secret?”
I leaned against the wall, deciding it was better to keep some distance between us. “What do you mean?”
“How does an associate afford a place like this?” He rounded the corner before I could answer, whistling once he entered the ultra-modern kitchen. I chuckled to myself, pleased that he was impressed.
Joining him near the kitchen island, I leaned my hip against the marble top. “This was my mother’s before she married my father. Her parents purchased it for her to ensure she’d always have somewhere to call home.”
“It’s gorgeous,” he complimented, although when he said gorgeous, he looked directly into my eyes.
Deciding it was a good idea to stay on topic, I continued. “When she passed, my father signed it over to me when I turned twenty-one, and I’ve been here ever since.”
Instead of him saying he was sorry about my mother, like most, he asked me a question which prompted memories of her to bombard me. All in a good way.
“Did you get along with your mother? Do you miss her?”
“Every single day,” I responded without hesitation. “She died when I was fourteen, so it was especially hard growing up without her. I feel her around me sometimes, but it’s not the same of course.” I gave him a weak smile, wishing I could call my mom and tell her all about the man standing in my kitchen.
“Do you mind if I ask how she died?”
“Brain aneurysm.” My words drifted off. “One day she was just . . . gone.” Flinching from a slight noise Max made, I widened my smile. “I miss my dad as well.”
“How do you mean?” He seemed genuinely interested, which was a good thing since I’d never told anyone that before.
“He was different when she was alive. He was still strict and controlling, but he was gentler about it. She knew how to make him change his mind about things, challenged him in ways I think he appreciated. Plus, he smiled a lot more then.”
With the heaviness of the conversation, I was thankful when Max switched topics, yet again. “Don’t you get lonely here all by yourself? What is there, like four floors?”
“Five, along with a basement and rooftop deck.”
“Wow. Now I’m kind of jealous,” he jested, rounding the island until he was only a couple of feet from me.
“I’m sure your place is just as nice. Besides, I doubt you’re broke.”
“Oh yeah, what makes you say that?” He fiddled with his tie until it was hanging loosely around his neck. Images of him stripping off his clothes rushed in, and for a brief moment, I had to close my eyes, although the lack of sight only made things worse, my imagination running at full force. “Are you okay?” he asked, gently touching my upper arm.
My lids sprang open, and I shuffled away from him, answering as if I hadn’t just been picturing him all sorts of naked. “Because you strike me as a man who doesn’t settle for anything less than the best.”
He squinted his eyes as if he was in deep thought before replying, “You’re right. I do have money.” He smiled. “I used to own my own firm back in California, and even though half of it went to my ex, I still walked away with enough money to satisfy me.”
After a bout of silence passed, Max’s smile slipped in lieu of a sexy smirk. “Bathroom?”
“Oh yeah, sorry. It’s right down that hall.” I pointed. “Second door on your left.” His shoulder brushed mine as he passed, and I swore I heard him groan at the contact.
Or maybe that was me.