They maneuvered through the fringes of the party, balancing the items past the tight crowd to the small semi-deserted hallway.
“We should find another place,” he said even before they reached the door.
“Why?”
Then she heard a definite bump and moan from inside. The unmistakable sounds of sex.
“Here?” Shauna couldn’t hide her surprise as she took a step back. “What are they … thinking?”
He laughed. “I’ll assume that question was rhetorical.”
She could feel a blush stealing up her cheeks, so she pretended not to hear him and instead looked around the room for someplace to drop off the items.
“Follow me,” he said after also looking around. “I think the bartender has some empty boxes behind the bar.”
He proved to be right, and Shauna was grateful to drop her pile into it. Max’s pile went on top of hers, but he quickly caught the dildo that teetered and slid off the top.
“Don’t forget this guy,” he said, reading the label before handing it to her. He raised an eyebrow. “Hmm. Someone crossed off Mr. Python and handwrote Mr. Satisfaction. ”
His voice had a timbre that carried easily over the booming music.
She placed the item more securely with the rest, unwilling to explain her girlfriends’ reference to the ideal man. “The gift actually came bundled with cigarettes and matches.”
“That good, huh?”
“I wouldn’t know, but I imagine they don’t call it Mr. Satisfaction for nothing.”
Since he nudged an empty stool at her, she settled onto it and kept up her surveillance of the party.
“Y’all are some scary women,” he said, eyeing the pile. “Who uses all this stuff?”
The bartender slid her customary club soda and lime to her and a bottle of beer for Max.
“The dating scene is rough,” Shauna said, taking a sip. “Machines require no commitment, no excuses, and no conversation.”
“Just batteries?”
The intent look in his eyes sent a sudden fluttering in her belly. She gave him her most innocent smile. “Fully charged batteries.”
“Ouch! I’m not sure I’ll want to hear the rest of this.”
She nabbed a green olive from a nearby bowl. “Hey, don’t blame us. We wish all men came with at least a ninety-day guarantee and endurance benchmarks.”
He bit back a grin and ran his thumb over the beer label. “I’m pretty open-minded about benchmarks, rug burns, or any other kind of marks.”
She managed not to laugh. “Oh, that was pathetic.”
He chuckled. “I prefer to think out of the box,” he said, glancing at the items just out of sight. “And in this case, I do mean that literally. Not that I mind the toys… well, except for that one there.” He pointed at something that made her tilt her head in an attempt to figure it out. It baffled her too.
“Grandma Mavis would know,” she mumbled.
He grinned, shook his head, and took a sip of beer. “What about foreplay and spontaneity? A machine doesn’t know when to push limits, or when to take risks, or even when to change the pace.”
“On the contrary. That’s why they come in different speeds, isn’t it?” she pointed out, amazed that she was still having this discussion.
His grin was slow and wicked. “Is that’s how you measure your pleasure? Because if you do, you’re selling yourself short. Lots of things can help take the edge off, but there’s no substitute for great sex.”
The DJ threw on another hit, effectively drowning out the conversation, but Max’s gaze held hers a moment longer, knocking her hormones up a few notches.
A surge of longing blazed all the way to her toes. The unexpected lust pooled deep in her gut, growing until she had to bite her lip to hold back a whimper of pleasure.
“Of course—” Max leaned close and watched her with predatory eyes. “—I’m just your former gardener. What the hell do I know?”
Her good mood dissolved into indignant anger, but she held it in check. “I was wondering when you’d bring that up. Five years, and you still won’t let me forget one stupid mistake.”
He took a long pull from his beer. “Actually, I’ve learned quite a bit from stupid decisions. I suppose that in some twisted way, I should thank you for that.”
“Back then, my father—”
Max waved his hand in an unimportant dismissive gesture. “Forget I mentioned it. How’s the old coot doing these days?”
She looked into the crowd, feeling the numbness creep into her shoulders like a weight. “He passed away a couple of months ago.”
No point in mentioning the rapid decline of the only parent she’d known and loved. Her mother had died giving birth to Shauna, and now, without any family members left, she was feeling the void.
Max glanced away from her. “Damn. I’m sorry.”
She shrugged it off. “How’s your mom?”
“Fine. She retired to Florida.”
“That’s nice.”
God, there it was, the polite niceties that people shared when conversation got awkward. As if they hadn’t been crazy for each other once. As if they hadn’t given up their relationship for the sake of their families.
If he started talking about the weather, she was going to need a stiff drink. As it was, she needed a stiff something.
“Max, the past is all water under the bridge for me.” She gave him a smile that felt a little tight around the edges.
“Yeah, me too,” he said, but he was still staring off into the crowd.
From across the room, the groom flagged Max to come over. She downed half her drink and sighed when he made his excuses and headed that way.
2
I can hardly believe that tomorrow I’m gonna be married!” Brandy said, glowing with happiness and more than her share of alcohol.
Shauna sat with her best friends, all three of them having kicked their shoes off to sit together one final time before the wedding day. From their corner of the room, they observed the wild crowd.
“I can’t believe it took you that long,” Daisy said. “If you’d married sooner, we could’ve been pregnant at the same time.” With her free hand, she rubbed her huge belly, clearly happy with the way her life had turned out.
“Hey, don’t say that M-word around me,” Shauna warned.
“What?Man or marriage?” Brandy teased. “By the way, where is your own walking, talking Mr. Satisfaction?”
“I’m waiting for Mr. Perfect,” Shauna replied.
“Doesn’t exist.”
“I’ll settle for Mr. Charming.”
“He’ll inevitably turn into Mr. Cheesy. Take it from me, sister,” Daisy said, “you don’t want to be married to Mr. Cheesy. My cousin did that.”
Daisy had cousins who had done everything.
“And who wants a Mr. Perfect, anyway? You need a man who will satisfy you, give you the world, and make you want to be with him when you’re both old and wrinkly.” Brandy winked over her drink. “Long-term satisfaction is much better than temporary bliss.”
“Haven’t you guys patented a husband-o-meter yet?” Shauna teased. “What’s with the delay? The way y’all give advice, I’d think you’d—wham—pull your meter out like a gun and start pointing it around, looking for Mr. Right—Oh, excuse me, Mr. Satisfaction.”
“Hey, Brandy,” Daisy said, looking purposefully at a group of men that were laughing together. “Think we can find a man for her in the bunch?”
“Oh, no. Don’t start matchmaking,” Shauna said, only to be ignored.
“That one flashing the capped tooth is always talking about his ex-wife or his ex-girlfriend,” Brandy said, shaking her head. “I’d rate him a three. Two, if he’s bragging about a baby mama.”
“Amen to that,” Daisy said, inspecting the next candidate. “Lionel, the guy next to him, has the funkiest pickup lines I’ve ever heard. ‘Do your feet hurt?’ Cause you’ve been running through my mind.’ That is so old! He d
idn’t seem to care that I’m both married and pregnant.”
“I don’t need a man,” Shauna insisted.
“Please tell me you’ve dated since the last time we set you up?” Daisy asked with a frown.
“Two jobs don’t leave a heck of a lot of time to date,” Shauna pointed out. “And besides, I don’t need you setting me up again. The last time you hooked me up with a date, he had the IQ of a doorstop.”
“Told ya,” Brandy muttered behind her drink.
“Duane is a model!” Daisy said defensively. “Only you would sit there all night, checking out his IQ, girl!”
“He was boring as hell.”
“She likes the strong silent types,” Brandy added. “You know, the ones that say more without talking than with words. The deep-thinking philosopher type. Like in the foreign movies, except those guys always look constipated.”
“Ha ha. Very funny,” Shauna said, but she couldn’t hold on to her straight face.
“Honey”—Daisy patted Shauna’s hand. “I have a cousin who—”
“No!” both Shauna and Brandy said at the same time. Shauna had yet to meet any of Daisy’s cousins that hadn’t done hard time.
“Daisy, you know we’re right.” Brandy tapped her hand when Daisy scowled. “And anyway, the way Shauna’s been keeping track of Max all night, I’d say she already has a man in mind.”
Shauna felt her cheeks flush furiously even as she clucked her tongue. “Don’t be ridiculous! Max is just an old friend. I just can’t get over how tall he is.”
Both her friends shared knowing glances and cocky smiles. They’d been her friend long enough to remember the gushing phone calls of an infatuated seventeen-year-old Shauna.
She groaned. “How is it that we ended up talking about my love life at your bachelorette party?”
“Because that’s what friends are for. To remind them of the important things in life,” Daisy said, counting them off with her fingers. “Sex. Money. Um …”
“Fashion,” Shauna added.
“And the hunt for Mr. Satisfaction!” Brandy slurred.
“And soon, we’ll add babies to that list,” Daisy piped in, getting a hoot from Brandy.
“I can’t afford any of those things right now.” Shauna chuckled, meaning it more than her friends knew. “But I have nothing against the sex and fashion part.”
“Heck, by this time next year, you’ll probably have it all,” Brandy said.
“Are you trying to jinx me?”
Brandy lifted her glass of ginger ale. “Only in the name of love, sister.”
“I’m up for that,” Daisy chimed in, her infectious loud cackle turning a few heads. “Can I get an amen?”
“Amen!”
The three friends raised their drinks and clicked them together with a cheer of solidarity.
3
It was almost two in the morning before the last of the people left the party. Max downed the remains of his last beer and was ready to head out when he found Shauna with a waiter from the bar, who was patiently waiting on a bill.
“I’m sorry, ma’am. The card was declined.”
Acute embarrassment crossed her face. “Oh, darn. I must’ve given you the wrong card. Here, try this one,” she said, handing him another.
The waiter gave her a polite smile and disappeared with the card. The minute she spotted him, Shauna’s frown disappeared, so Max pretended he hadn’t heard.
“Calling it a night?” she asked.
“Yeah. Everyone’s pretty much gone.” He looked around to buy himself a couple of seconds. “Need help with anything?”
“No.”
Okay, so maybe he hadn’t been so subtle. The slight tilt of her chin was pure defensiveness. It put him back in time, into baggy jeans, sneakers with holes, and an empty wallet. Back to a time where every penny counted, and pride was an expensive commodity.
“Take a party favor,” she said, opening a large bag and offering it to him, then smiling in a way that was surely meant to distract him.
Max reached into the bag full of fortune cookies and took one just as the waiter arrived with her credit card. Apparently this one hadn’t bounced.
She signed, and Max reluctantly shoved his hands into his pockets, clamping down on a sudden rush of sympathy.
“Well, if you don’t need me, I guess I’ll say good night then,” he said.
She nodded and waved. “G’night.”
But he was still waiting for the elevator to arrive when she stepped into the lobby. Even after the long night, there was something about the way she massaged her neck with her right hand and leaned casually against the wall that made the years between them melt away.
No matter what fate had dealt them, he wanted her all over again. Hell, he wasn’t sure he’d ever stopped wanting her. When he’d been a boy, he’d wanted her with the emotional passion of a man. Now as a man, he realized the attraction had only grown dangerously stronger, but tangled up in all that was this double-edged need to possess and protect her. How would life have changed if she hadn’t been sent away?
“This place has slow elevators,” she said, tucking her hair behind her ear in a nervous gesture then pressing the elevator call button again.
“Yup,” he said, for lack of anything better to say.
The elevator arrived, and they both stepped inside. In the intimate silence, he felt the desperate knot of time and harsh hopelessness, of wanting something that had been so far out of his reach and, even now, was something he couldn’t let go of. Shauna.
“So, what did your fortune cookie say?” she asked. A quick flick of her tongue over her lips drew his gaze to her mouth.
“You first,” he said.
A tint of heat bloomed in her cheeks. “Okay.” She reached into the bag and cracked a fortune cookie.
“Well?”
She politely cleared her throat and read, “Kiss the person to the right of you.” In bed.
He grinned.
She shoved the little piece of paper into her pocket far too carefully. “You are directly in front of me, so I guess you’re out of the question.”
He grinned and stepped to her right.
SHAUNA COULD ONLY stare as his hand slid below her earlobe to where her pulse was already falling all over itself at the prospect of his kiss. His face lowered; then he stopped.
“Any objection?” his gruff question was softly seductive.
The butterflies in her stomach trembled. “No.”
Shauna felt the sensuous contact of his lips against her jaw. The whole world seemed to hold still, his breath flowing warm against her skin, the light citrus scent of his cologne wrapping around her senses as he placed a light kiss on her cheek. She trembled, unable to help the broken sigh that escaped her.
That kiss, that simple kiss, felt as innocent as moonlight and as guilty as lust. And not nearly enough.
Suddenly, his mouth moved to her lips, slanting over hers, claiming it as if he’d been starved for it. She groaned at the contact, losing herself in the taste of him, in the rush of his need, in the hunger that had her wrapping her arms around his shoulders as he slowly took her breath away.
One kiss slid into another, demanding more, giving more, and causing the world to tilt behind her eyes, blending the surreal and the real.
For so many years she’d wanted this, wanted him! It felt so good, so right. She eased against the solid planes of his body, thrilled at his hardening erection and guttural groan of weakness.
Drowning in the brunt of his kisses, she arched against him and trembled when his hands cupped her breasts.
“Oh, Max!” She wanted to rip his clothes off, wanted his skin on hers, wanted his hot mouth everywhere.
He abruptly broke the kiss and touched his forehead to hers. “Shouldn’t we take it slow?” he asked huskily.
“No,” she said, completely without thinking.
He grinned. “Then you want to know what my fortune cookie said?”
She lick
ed her lips, knowing he would tell her anyway. He leaned back a bit but kept watching her mouth, and it made her hungrier for more of his.
“Make a wish, and it will be granted.” He leaned farther back.
“What do you wish for?” she found herself asking.
There seemed to be too many haggard breaths and heartbeats before he replied, his voice gruff with warning. “I wish to see you in little more than those pink satin slippers you’re wearing. You. With me. For the whole night.”
She struggled to clear her mind, unable to even speak, the images his words created blazing through her imagination. Was he serious?
The tremor of his broken chuckle brushed her skin. “Don’t look so shocked, honey. You wanted to know.”
His thumb remained at the curve of her throat, stroking her racing pulse. There was just enough fire still in her veins to want to make impulsive decisions, to make her want to throw caution to the wind and take him up on it.
Abruptly, the elevator doors opened, and she sobered as reality settled in. “Haven’t you heard you’re supposed to be careful with what you wish for, Max?”
The heat in his gaze was full of conviction. “Believe me, I thrive on wishes, but I learned the hard way that they’re not for cowards.”
What the hell did that mean?
He stepped back, and Shauna stepped out of the elevator, feeling aroused and naked and confused.
When the steel doors finally blocked out his heated gaze, Shauna was embarrassed to see her own stupefied, dreamy expression reflected back.
4
It was three in the morning, and Shauna was alone in her hotel room, mentally reviewing her reaction to Max and agonizing over every detail.
Kissing him was so sensuous, such a delightful oral experience… . Holy smoke. If she was melting from his kisses, what would she do if he made love to her?
She flipped through endless TV channels only to end up flopping in bed, cuddling up to her pillow and sipping on a tiny bottle of Scotch from the minibar.
Roses. She remembered how long ago he had twice clipped pink and red roses from her garden and left them on the outer windowsill of her bedroom, then tapped on her window and disappeared before she could spot him. But even now, the memory warmed her, causing her to smile.
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