Chapter 5

“Not exactly how I planned to get you alone,” Max stated, his low, rumbling voice sending chills skating over Sarah’s skin. “Think you’ll be able to use a blow-dryer or something to save your top?”

“Um, something.” She kept a few things in her office, though she couldn’t recall exactly what they were. Her head was spinning, because not only was she swimming in Max’s jacket, breathing in the clean Irish Spring scent of him, but he’d rested his hand at the small of her back as they left the reception and headed toward the staff elevator at the far end of the hall. And that subtle touch? It felt so good.

Too good.

Which meant with every step that passed, the tension between them—or maybe just within her—was building. The pressure strangling whatever rational thoughts she had left until finally they were standing at the elevators alone. Nothing to do but wait for the car to arrive.

She couldn’t take it anymore.

“Max, thank you for this. But you’re the best man. You don’t have to come with me. I’ll get fixed up and bring your jacket back down. Go enjoy the party.”

The corner of his hard mouth softened as he adjusted his crossed arms over his chest. “Trying to get rid of me, Sarah?”

She was. Which was crazy, considering she could practically feel the singe marks on her eternal soul for what she’d been thinking back in that church. But he made her so nervous that she could barely breathe.

Shaking her head, she smiled at him. “I just don’t want you to miss the reception because of me.”

The elevator chimed, and the doors slid silently open. Max extended his arm and then followed her in. “I was on my way to talk to you. So looks to me like I’m getting exactly what I was after.”

She laughed. “Champagne spilled down your shirt?”

Another cut of those eyes. “Pretty sure the bulk of it went down your shirt, and as guilty as I feel about it, that was probably the highlight of my year.” Max returned to watching the floors pass on the numbered panel, but she couldn’t miss the twitch of his mouth. “I’m not proud.”

Suddenly, that nervous tension building within her eased.

Because this was just Max. Not like he’d been that last night back in school, but Max like he’d been all the nights that had come before. Flirting and teasing the smiles and laughter out of her as they walked from the library back to her dorm.

Pulling the lapels of the jacket tighter, she leaned into the corner of the car. “The other night. I’m sorry I took off without saying good-bye.”

There, she’d said it. Broached the subject she couldn’t ignore.

Max nodded, letting a beat pass before asking, “So why did you?”

“You made me nervous,” she admitted. Only that wasn’t quite the truth. Max turned to her, and she sighed. “Or rather, the way I was thinking about you made me nervous. So I guess, I made me nervous. It wasn’t anything you did.”

“Nervous, huh?” He cocked his head to the side, a playful glint in his eyes. “I suppose a gentleman wouldn’t press for details about what exactly you were thinking.”

Time for a change of subject, because no way was she giving that up. “So aside from tonight’s wet tuxedo-shirt contest victory, what have you been up to this week, Max?”

A dimple winked at her from his cheek, and her heart skipped a beat.

“Not much,” he answered easily, letting her off the hook. “You know, keeping the streets safe, sanding floors, and thinking about a certain girl who got away.”

Her head came up in surprise. Not about the girl getting away. That was just classic flirty Max. But… “Sanding floors?”

Eyes lighting up, Max grinned. “Yeah, guess I didn’t tell you the other night. I do some rehabbing as an investment on the side. This is my third house, brownstone in Lakeview.”

“Like flipping houses?” she asked, delighted. “I vaguely remember you mentioning a plan that involved real estate.”

The elevator came to a stop, and they stepped out on her floor, Max’s hand at her back again. “Yeah, the plan has matured some. Originally, I was thinking about getting a two-flat, living on one floor and renting the other. Moving up from there. But a few years ago, a buddy from the force was selling his place. It needed… Hell, it needed everything. But he knew I liked to work with my hands and asked if I wanted to take a look. That was three properties ago.”

“Wow, Max, impressive. And you do the work yourself?”

“Mostly. Sometimes I’ve gotta hire in. Sometimes one of the guys’ll come over and help out. But usually it’s just me and some tunes and this vision I’ve got about what the place will look like when I’m done.”

She could see him doing it. Could see what a good balance that kind of work would make against what he did on the force.

“This one’s mine,” she said when they reached her office. She passed her key card over the sensor and then flipped on the lights, illuminating her temporary home away from temporary home. The office was modern and clean, large enough to accommodate a sleek conference table in black wood topped with blue glass to match her desk and the shelving unit at the back wall with a small, built-in closet at the side. Heading over to it, she left Max standing sentinel at the door. Arms crossed, feet planted wide. Looking every bit the officer, and very, very good.

“So tell me more about your life,” she said, casting a critical eye at the spare blouse and peach cocktail dress hanging within. Neither was quite right, but the dress was the lesser evil by a long shot. She paused, dress in hand, still wrapped in Max’s jacket. “Based on the number of times I’ve heard your name mentioned today—breathlessly and with obvious intent—I’m guessing you’re still as popular as ever with the females?”

“I don’t know what you heard,” Max started, his hands coming up like he was about to launch into some kind of denial or explanation. “But I don’t have any plans with anyone.”

“Keeping your options open?” she teased. But the look on Max’s face said she’d hit the nail on the head. Waving off whatever response he had, she steered the conversation back on track. “So I know you aren’t married, but eight years is a long time. Ever get close?”

For a moment, Max just looked at her, then leaning a shoulder into the doorframe, he cocked his head. “Once. I even bought a ring.”

A ring. She’d been expecting him to laugh. Swear up and down he’d never be fool enough to fall for all that love-and-forever business. But once, that was exactly what he’d done.

“What happened?” she asked, all teasing aside.

“We were young,” Max replied, the corner of his mouth kicking up as he handed her the explanation she’d given herself so many times.

That half smile pulled at her own and she relaxed, sitting back against the edge of her desk. “I can relate to that.”

“I bet you can. Long story short, I was better off for it.” He cast another one of those devastating grins, the kind that had probably dropped more panties than she’d owned in her lifetime. “I’m not the marrying kind.”

“Think you may have told me that once,” she said quietly, regretting the words before they’d even left her mouth. Because then she was thinking back to that last night, the one she’d replayed too many times over the years.

Even now, she could hear the rain hitting the windows and feel the wet strands of Max’s hair between her fingers. Taste the storm they’d run through on his lips. Remember how the soaked fabric of her dress pulled tight when his hands fisted at her hips and their kiss turned desperate—

“Guess I did,” Max said, his gruff voice cutting into her thoughts and not a second too soon, because that memory always left her just a little aching and bruised.

Tonight, it wouldn’t. “Yes, well, turns out I wasn’t the marrying kind either.”

Then clearing her throat, she pushed up from the desk and waved toward the sodden mess plastered to Max’s chest.

“Take off your shirt and let’s get on with it. I don’t think I’ve ever been this wet.”

Max’s lips twitched again, and Sarah felt a slow burn crawling up her neck as she realized just what she’d said. She sucked in a quick breath, and her eyes shot to Max’s. “That came out wrong.”

One thick, dark brow rose, tugging the corner of his mouth along for the ride. “It came out like you want me naked, fast.”

Yeah, but she definitely hadn’t meant to say that. Shaking her head, she stuck out her palm. “You’re bad. Hurry up.”

“So bossy, Sarah,” he taunted, the glint of amusement and low rumble of his voice working through her as his fingers worked the buttons and studs of his shirt free. “Not gonna lie. It kinda works for me.”

She was not going to melt into a puddle right there in her office because Max was flirting with her while revealing a swath of warm, mouthwateringly well-defined olive chest beneath the stark white of his shirt. Shrugging one thickly muscled shoulder free and then the other, he stripped off the wet garment and handed it over. “Thanks, Sarah.”

Air moved unsteadily past her lips as she strained to maintain eye contact. If she looked at his body again, there was a strong chance she would either giggle or try to touch him. Or both. So she swallowed and, in a tone she only hoped wasn’t as breathless as she felt, said, “You too.”

There was that smile again. Wait—

Had she just thanked him for taking off his shirt? Slapping a hand over her eyes and then dropping it to her mouth, she hustled into the bathroom with the gruff sound of Max’s laughter trailing behind. “Anytime, Sarah.”

* * *

Max eyed the connecting bathroom door and listened to the muffled whine of a blow-dryer at work, wondering whether Sarah was still wearing his jacket. And how deeply infused it had become with that subtle perfume he’d caught when he leaned in to tease her before.

Propping a shoulder against the wall, he asked. “So you and Wyse. What’s going on there?”

Sean had already confirmed this wasn’t an official date, but that he had considered making it one. Max needed to know whether Sarah had been hoping things would go that way.

The blow-dryer cut off.

“Business. He’s my boss. Indirectly,” she clarified amid the sound of drawers opening and closing. “He needed a date, and Piper had a work thing that left me with a free day.”

Max felt the tension leave his shoulders.

He should have left it at that, but hell. “You’re too good for him.”

More shuffling from beyond the flimsy door, and then a thunk followed by a beat of silence.

Max straightened. “Sarah, you okay?”

He’d already reached for the knob when it turned in his hand, and the door cracked open. Through the three-inch gap, Sarah, still wrapped in his jacket, stared up at him, agape.

“Sean. He’s not— I mean, there’s no way Sean Wyse is your Sean.”

That wide-eyed look of disbelief was priceless. Almost better than the realization that not only was Sarah still wrapped up in his jacket, but based on the flawless stretch of bare legs extending from the hem, there might not be much else left beneath. Panties probably.

Her bra had to have been soaked. Maybe she’d taken it off.

Which meant beneath those tightly overlapped lapels was bare, silky, pink-tipped skin.

He was a dog for thinking it, and he might have gotten around to working up some guilt, except then those wide eyes started drifting lower until Sarah was blatantly staring at his chest and nibbling her bottom lip in that nervous way she used to have.

Feeling the balance of control shifting back in his favor, Max cleared his throat.

Sarah’s eyes bounced back to his, like she’d just been caught with her hand in the cookie jar.

This could be fun.

“Not sure how he’d feel about being my Sean.” Max laughed, planting one arm on the doorframe in a move he knew emphasized his chest, shoulders, and biceps, and could only be described as cheap. But hell, how was he supposed to resist when Sarah’s eyes were yo-yoing up and down?

He flexed, but just a little. “Yeah. Your boss. My buddy. One and the same.”

“No. With the stolen toilet? The three women?” She leaned farther into the growing space between the door and the frame, her voice dropping to a disbelieving whisper. “Washington State?”

Rubbing a wide palm across his mouth, Max laughed. “Sean is going to love that you remember all that.”

Her mouth fell open. “I, uh… I would never say anything.”

“I know.” She was honest and kind. And the vee where the satin lapels of his jacket overlapped was starting to deepen. “Here’s the thing, Sarah.”

She was looking up at him with trusting vulnerability in her eyes that made him want to wrap her in his arms and protect her, almost as much as he wanted to tangle his fingers in her hair and tip her head back to kiss her.

“Yes?”

“I try to be a good guy. But, sweetheart, seeing you standing there in my jacket and I’m pretty sure not much more? It’s bringing out the bad in me. You’re gonna need to close this door, or I’m going to walk through it and find out exactly what’s changed since college”—his gaze dropped to her mouth—“and what hasn’t.”

Sarah’s lips parted on a gasp Max felt in all the right places, and then the door shut in his face.

He started to walk away before he did something stupid, but stopped dead at the sound of the knob turning behind him.

His nearly dry tuxedo shirt dangled from one finger extended through the smallest gap between door and frame.

Good girl.

* * *

Shoulders pressed into the closed bathroom door, chest heaving, Sarah stared at her lingerie-clad reflection in the mirror.

There was still something between them. And Max felt it.

Not the big, meaningful something she’d been looking for at twenty, but the other something. The chemical something that made the air pop and sizzle around them when they kissed and had been potent enough to keep the memory of Max Brandt from fading into nothingness over the years.

Would it still be like that?

Not if he knew that even after all this time, she was still a virgin. He’d freak out, thinking she was looking for something more than she was.

But what if he didn’t know?

It was clear from his sexy threat about storming her bathroom, he didn’t consider her off limits anymore. Or maybe he’d just been feeling her out, trying to gauge her receptivity to something casual, based on her response.

Ugh, and if that was the case, she couldn’t have blown it more if she tried.

Dropping her forehead into her open palms, she groaned. Then after one long, deep breath worth of wallowing, she straightened.

It wasn’t too late. If she was serious about handling her little problem before she got to New York—and she was—she could still fix this. Turn it around by feigning some sexual savviness she hadn’t earned, and letting Max hang on to a simple misconception.

A moment later, she’d donned her new dress and slipped out of the bathroom. Max was waiting for her, his eyes trailing down the length of her like a touch.

“Sorry to keep you waiting,” she offered with confidence she didn’t feel, breathlessness she couldn’t fake, and a smile born of possibility. “Guess I got caught up thinking about everything that’s changed myself. Wondering if you’d like it.”

* * *

There wasn’t a lot that surprised Max. Hell, in his line of work, he’d pretty much seen it all—and if he hadn’t seen it, he’d heard about it from his partner or around the precinct.

But this?

Sarah all but confirming his deepest, darkest hopes and dreams about the demise of her virginity with that come-hither look on her face—fuck. Good-bye, blood flow to the brain. Whatever he’d been pumping through that slamming heart of his detoured south. Down, boy.

He shook his head and swallowed, met Sarah’s eyes, and felt the hold he had on himself slip. “You’re beautiful.”

She smiled, looking shy again. More like the girl he’d known. “We ought to get back to the reception before they send out a search party,” she said.

“We should.” He took the first steps, coming up to rest his hand at the small of her back. Politely. Like a fucking gentleman. Only then the feel of her beneath his fingertips sent a jolt straight up his arm, reminding him what it had been like to have her beneath his touch. To hold her and trace the smooth line of her spine. To feel the rush of her breath against his neck. Her skin heating for him.

“Right,” she agreed. The single word was barely a whisper. Not nearly convincing enough.

“We will.” Firming his fingers against her back, he drew her closer. Slowly, because that was how he’d always touched her.

Her lips parted and her breath caught, but she didn’t say no. She didn’t stop him.

She just watched, her gaze shifting to his mouth as he dipped down to taste her.

One kiss. The barest teasing brush. That was all it took to make Sarah gasp, spurring his every primitive instinct to life.

Mine.

He pulled back.

Another half second of that mind-blowing, supercharged, barely there contact, and best man or not, Max would have had Sarah locked in his arms, her feet off the ground as he carried her to the couch. And no telling what would have happened to the gorgeous dress that looked like it might rip if he breathed on it too hard.

Besides, a glance down at Sarah’s hand clutching his shirtfront gave him exactly what he needed. Confirmation she wanted more.

He smiled—hell, grinned—down into her flustered face. “Let’s go.”