Chameleon

by Courtney Henke

  Dammit, she should at least be allowed a couple of days to get her bearings!

  Cissy, however, had other ideas. "Look, honey. You're showered, scented, and stuck. Let's not waste the first two." The concerned brown eyes suddenly turned sheepish, and she nervously flicked her ashes into an overflowing ashtray. "Besides, I… already called somebody."

  Emma gasped. "Cissy, you wouldn't dare!"

  "Oh. no, honey. Not your golden god!" Cissy dropped her gaze. "I, uh, called his friend."

  "Adam?" Emma groaned. "Now, why did you go and do something like that? How do you know him anyway?"

  Cissy brightened and batted her gawdy false lashes. "Benno. He's a sucker for a lady's charms."

  Emma flung herself on her pillow, burying her face in it. Not Adam, she wanted to groan. Adam was too perceptive. Adam would probably tell her she shouldn't have allowed Max to get away with it. All the things she'd been telling herself since she walked out the door the previous night.

  Then again, she thought, Adam might be able to shed some light on her confusion.

  "Cissy?" she called from her pillow. "I don't have a dress."

  Cissy gave a rebel whoop and shot to the closet, leaving her cigarette smoldering in the ashtray. While Cissy rummaged, Emma distastefully put the thing out, wondering how the woman had managed to live so long.

  When her friend emerged a moment later, turban a-kilter again, she was holding a long, shimmery emerald-green strapless gown.

  "I bought it in London for Diana," Cissy said, eyeing the dress proudly. "But I think you need it more."

  "I've got a bad feeling about this," Emma muttered.

  Half an hour later Emma stared at her reflection disbelievingly. "Wow," she whispered.

  The gown hugged every curve of her body like glittering skin. She didn't know she had so many curves! Her brown hair was swept up and spilled over the top of her head onto her high brow. Her hurried makeup job was perfect, though she looked rather puffy around her sparkling now-green eyes. Around her long neck she wore Cissy's surprisingly delicate emerald necklace. And she looked so much taller, because her high-heeled pumps were hidden by the dress that swept the floor, the length of which would be perfect on her sister.

  "You look beautiful, honey," came Cissy's voice from behind her. "Absolutely lovely."

  "Okay." Emma took a tiny preparatory breath. "Let go."

  Cissy dropped the handful of gown she'd been holding. Emma groaned as the dress didn't fit like a second skin anymore.

  "I told you! Diana is much… bigger than I am."

  "Oh, pooh, honey. Just in the boobs." Cissy studied the fit critically, then snapped her fingers and ducked into the bathroom. When she returned brandishing a handful of tissue, Emma raised a warning hand to halt her.

  "No way! I refuse to stuff myself like some Christmas goose!" Emma turned back to the mirror, glaring at the sagging bustline. She twisted this way and that, then raised her arms. The gown showed an alarming penchant for slipping down her body. Emma muttered a curse. "I can't go."

  "Nonsense. Use the tissue, honey. No one will notice! I used to help your sisters all the time."

  "Don't start. Cissy." Emma pursed her lips. "Do you have a needle and thread?"

  "Sure, honey. This is a class place! There's a sewing kit in the bathroom." Cissy frowned skeptically. "What are you going to do? Make yourself some falsies? The tissue's easier."

  "Will you stop with the falsies? I'm going to baste it up at the sides, under my arms. No one will notice my lousy stitches there, and it'll fit as snug as a bug in a rug."

  Just as she finished her uneven but adequate seam, a knock sounded at the door. Emma slipped into the bathroom while Cissy answered it. Listening to Adam's drawling flattery to Cissy, she realized she missed him. And his voice brought back memories that were so new, they hurt.

  "Stop it," she told herself. "There has to be a way. There has to be!"

  She slid the dress over her head, but when she reached back to fasten it, the stubborn zipper told her she'd made her seams just a tad too tight. Sighing heavily, she forced the zipper up and reminded herself not to take any deep breaths. Somehow, spilling out of her dress during a swanky dinner-dance wasn't her idea of a good time.

  She took a shallow, calming gasp of air and opened the bathroom door. Adam sat in one of the flower-printed overstuffed armchairs; Cissy sat in its twin. She was plying a gilt-edged puce fan with the energy of a professional flirt, and as Emma watched she playfully rapped Adam's knuckles with it. Emma rolled her eyes.

  "You sweet thing," Cissy said, simpering.

  "Emma!" Adam rose to his feet quickly, but he didn't throw any beseeching looks her way. Adam was made of tougher stuff than she'd thought. "You look… wonderful!"

  "You're not so bad yourself." From the top of his perfect ebony hair, to the tips of his highly polished toes, Adam looked as if he had stepped out of the pages of a magazine. Seeing her appraisal of him, he hooked his fingers in the tux's black satin lapels and posed for her. She giggled. "You're a heartbreaker, Mr. Daniels."

  "Who? Li'l ol' me?"

  "I know my heart is broken, sweet thing."

  "No, lady, 'tis my heart that shatters at your slightest… er… slight." Adam placed his palm on his chest and bowed to Cissy, who squealed in delight. "And now, may I escort the two loveliest ladies in the hotel up to dinner?"

  "You may, sweet thing." Cissy took his arm enthusiastically, then glanced back at Emma. "C'mon honey. This is going to be a hell of a lot more fun than staring at the walls."

  With a pained smile and another roll of her eyes, Emma took Adam's other arm, and they swept out the door.

  Cissy chattered and Adam flattered during the ride to the restaurant-ballroom at the top of the hotel. Emma was silent, her stomach suddenly fluttering like a roomful of butterflies. When the doors swooshed open, she felt distinctly nauseated, and cursed Cissy under her breath for talking her into this.

  They were greeted by a uniformed attendant who gathered their tickets and pointed them to the receiving line. The crowd was already thick in the opulent red-velvet-splashed foyer. Most of the people held glittering flutes of champagne. Emma decided she'd never seen so many sequins in one place. She felt as if she'd stepped into the pages of a Judith Krantz novel.

  "Courage, Little Bit," was the reassuring whisper from Adam.

  She smiled up at him gratefully, and he gave her a wink before he paraded them before the stately matron who had organized the shindig.

  Within twenty minutes her face hurt from smiling. Luckily Cissy dominated every conversation. She and Adam were merely window dressing, flanking the new queen of the party. It was a role she had played before, and Emma relaxed a little. When Cissy yoo-hooed to someone across the room, Emma slipped away to a chair in the foyer, hiding behind a huge potted palm as she watched the tidelike movements of the crowd. Behind them the skyline of St. Louis went slowly by as the revolving restaurant gave everyone a view of the world around them.

  The elevator swooshed open behind her, and she instinctively melted into the walls as more chattering guests arrived. The beginnings of a headache throbbed in her temples, and she wished she were at a baseball game.

  Downstairs at that exact moment Max was wishing the same thing. The bow tie at his throat seemed to strangle him, the stiff fabric of the tuxedo rubbed his fevered skin. What he wouldn't give for a satiny Cardinals jacket and a hot bratwurst, with Emma's hand on his arm, her scent filling him with Tightness. He'd loved her even then. But he hadn't been able to admit it to himself.

  "The elevator is descending, Herr Morgan."

  "Thank you, Benno." He cleared his throat and pulled at his tie. "When we find Emma, return to the car. Hopefully I'll be down shortly." If she accepts my apology, he thought.

  "Yes, sir."

  Max shifted his feet, listening to the voices around him, which were muted by the plush carpet in the lobby of the hotel. He straightened his shoulders unconsciously. He could not
let his doubts defeat him. Even if he couldn't forgive his own actions, Emma would forgive him.

  Wouldn't she?

  Stop it! he told himself firmly. It was lack of sleep that made him so edgy, that's all. He hadn't made it to bed the night before, so torn had he been by her accusations. Lies, she'd said, and it had taken him forever to admit that she was right.

  He stifled a moan for his own stupidity. How could he possibly have hurt her so badly, so deliberately? He'd broken her trust in him, and he knew just how hard that trust was to build in the first place. She was the best thing that had ever happened to him, and he was an idiot.

  The elevator door opened, and he stiffened.

  "To the top, Herr Morgan?"

  "Yes, Benno." He stepped forward resolutely. "All the way."

  "Here, Emma."

  Adam appeared out of nowhere and handed her a glass of sparkling wine, then sat beside her. She sipped the champagne warily, deciding one glass wouldn't kill her. She wrinkled her nose at the unfamiliar and distinctly unpleasant taste.

  "Your friend is amazing." He chuckled and nodded in Cissy's direction. She was holding court, surrounded by male admirers, plying her fan expertly. "Where does she get all that energy?"

  Emma smiled fondly. "If I knew that, I could make a fortune."

  "She wears me out." Adam glanced at his watch, then stared into his champagne before taking a swallow. "How are you doing? Really?"

  Her smile faded, and she sipped again. "Fine."

  "This is me, Emma. Don't snow me, okay?" He sighed. "Max looks like hell and wont even tell me what happened. Just that you'd left like he always knew you would."

  She shrugged, stopping the movement as the dress tightened around her breasts. "He always knew it. I didn't."

  "He won't admit how good you are for him. He's crawled into a hole and refuses to come out."

  "And what am I supposed to do about that?" Tears burned her eyes, but she absolutely refused to start crying again. "He tried every way he knew to kick me out and finally hit on the one way to do it. He's very good at pushing people away."

  "He's scared, Emma."

  "Yes, but why? Why!"

  "I don't know."

  She gulped the champagne and shuddered. "That's the big question, isn't it? He's so stubborn, so damned pigheaded! Does he think he has to put on this macho act for everyone?"

  "Yes. he does."

  "Well, until I figure this all out, I'm not going back."

  "Running away?" Adam frowned at her.

  "I'm not running away, Adam. It's just a strategic retreat."

  "Good. That's what I wanted to know." The elevator swooshed open again. Adam smiled his hundred-kilowatt smile, flashing perfect teeth. "He's worth it, Emma."

  "I know," she whispered. She cleared her throat with a swallow of champagne and sighed. "If he would just bend a little! If he would…"

  "What?"

  "I don't know. Something. Anything!"

  Adam grinned. "Would coming to the party qualify as something?"

  "Maybe." Emma grimaced. "But don't hold your breath."

  "I won't have to. Turn around."

  Emma glanced over her shoulder and gasped at the magnificent figure standing just inside the foyer. A small pop of the seam at her side was ignored. She blinked. No, it wasn't her imagination. It was Max!

  Her heartbeat raced. He took her breath away. The tux fit like a glove, and its deep blue color emphasized his golden hair. He wore no dark glasses, but he held his cane loosely over his arm as he stood stiffly, his head turning slowly as he got his bearings. Benno mimicked the movement.

  Max looked lost, she thought with a wrench of her heart. And there were circles under his amber eyes, as if he hadn't slept much either. Hope filled her heart. Maybe, just maybe.

  She stood and drifted to him as if she were in a dream, dizzy with the heady pleasure of seeing him again. It's only the champagne, she told herself. But she didn't believe it.

  As she neared, Max's head turned toward her. Benno saw her and melted away, backing into the elevator with typical reticence. She stopped, for-getting Benno completely, wondering if she should take Max's arm or murmur some inanity or what?

  He breathed deeply, and a ghost of a smile curved his beautiful mouth. "Emma?"

  "Hello, Max." She shifted awkwardly from foot to foot when he didn't move. "Are you—would you—" She cleared her throat. Polite conversation wasn't her style. "Why are you here?"

  "Because I—" He squared his shoulders. "The market results came in. Chameleon is a winner. They said they'd never had such an enthusiastic response before."

  "I'm glad. Max." She felt the weight of a hundred years lifted from her shoulders, but it didn't ease the heaviness of her heart. "Would you like some champagne?"

  "No, thank you. Is Adam here?"

  "Yes. he's—" She turned back, but Adam had disappeared from his chair. "He was here a minute ago. Do you want me to find him?"

  "That's okay. I—" He took a deep breath. "I wanted to talk to you."

  "You could have called."

  "No. Adam told me you would be here, and—"

  "What?"

  The elevator opened again, and a knot of people stepped around them, excusing themselves. "Is there somewhere we can go?" Max asked, tense again.

  Emma took his arm and led him to the chairs. Once they were settled, he relaxed. Emma picked up her abandoned glass of champagne and finished it off in two big gulps. Her nerves needed it, she decided with a shudder.

  "I missed you," Max said finally.

  Her pulse leapt wildly. "Oh?"

  "I—I want you to come back with me. If you still want to."

  Emma lifted her chin and forced back her cry of "Yes!" She swallowed instead, controlling her voice with an effort. "That depends. Why do you want me back?"

  His soft words stunned her. "Because I love you."

  "Do you?" Please don't let this be a dream, she prayed. But she held herself back when she would have thrown herself into his arms.

  "Yes, I do." A tentative smile curved his lips. "I thought that if I could get you out of my life, I could regain my equilibrium, and things wouldn't be so confusing. I thought I needed everything the way it had always been."

  His eyes glittered. "But it didn't work. It's kind of funny. I've spent my whole life being what I wanted to be. And now it's changed. I don't know who I am anymore. But I knew within hours of your leaving that nothing would ever be the same for me. I missed your forays on my counters, I missed your scent filling my house, I missed your laughter. Hell, even Dixie misses you! The house is empty without you. Please come back to me."

  She clenched her fists in an effort not to touch him. She needed more. "You hurt me."

  "Emma, you know I didn't mean it. I was scared, and guilty, and very confused. I knew it would hurt you, but I couldn't seem to stop myself." He leaned over and took her hand gently in his. "Don't let me push you away."

  "Is this another test. Max? Are you going to let me give you my love again, but only as long as it doesn't threaten you?" She pulled her hand from his. "How can I stop you when you do it so well?"

  "Do you love me?"

  "Yes." She said it quickly, surely. "But it's not enough. I don't understand you. I don't know what you want from me! We can't play a constant game of tug-of-war. I can't go through another one-sided relationship, where everything is up to me." Her voice sank to a whisper. "I just can't."

  "It will be different this time," he told her. "It's not one-sided. I love you." And she still loved him! he thought in awe. In spite of everything he'd done, she still loved him. "We can work it out."

  "How?"

  Max breathed deeply of her scent, his heart near bursting. It took every ounce of his courage to keep going. He had to prove how much he loved her, then she'd come back to him. "When I… numbed myself, after… after we made love the last time, I thought it was because I was afraid that if I felt anything. I would feel guilt." He swallowed conv
ulsively. "But do you know what I felt? Loneliness. For the first time in my life I realized I wasn't complete. You were right about that. I was empty. Cold. And I'd done it to myself."

  She said nothing, and Max straightened his spine. "I don't want to change you, Emma. I don't want you to be something you're not. I'm the one who should change. I'm selfish, I guess, too used to having everything my way. I won't try to keep you all to myself. You can work, or stay home, whatever you want to do. And when you get your wanderlust, you can go… as long as you come back to me." There! He'd said it. He'd admitted that he needed her in his life, that it wasn't onesided. It was the most difficult admission he'd ever made.

  "What do you mean, as long as you come back to me?"

  Confusion swamped him. Her tone was disbelieving. What had he said? "I was obsessive, stifling. I mean, I won't try to stop you when you want to go."

  "You could go with me."

  "No, honey, I can't. I have absolutely no desire to go wandering with you." He smiled, leaning over to frame her face in his hands. "But that doesn't mean you can't go anywhere you want."

  "You came here."

  "Because I had to." He frowned. "Emma, don't you understand? I want you to share my life."

  "But you don't want to share mine."

  "I can't!"

  "Why?"

  "Because—" He groped for words but none came. What was happening?

  "You don't have a reason, do you?" She tore her face from his grasp, and he made no move to stop her. "Tell yourself the truth for once! You re so pigheaded. Maxwell Morgan."

  "Morgans aren't pigheaded, Emma. Machlens are!" He raked his fingers through his hair. "A Morgan is self-reliant, a Morgan is persistent, but—"

  "A Morgan is a horse. Max! Why won't you let me in! You're putting me firmly outside your life again, don't you understand that?" She growled, low in her throat, sounding just like a fox threatened with a gun. "You're impossible, do you know that? That's all I am to you, isn't it? A crutch! I don't know what to do about you!"