by Diana Fraser
Using more willpower than she’d ever done before she took a step behind her, toward the door. She had to close her eyes to tear them from his. She only opened them when she passed through the door and into the empty hallway. Cold. Just as she thought. She walked carefully along the corridor, measuring every step as a test of her strength, and as a distance from him.
* * *
It took all of Max’s self-discipline to resist following Laura. If she’d hesitated, if she’d come to him again and kissed him, he didn’t think he’d have been able to let her go. He’d have made love to her as she asked him to do. But she’d gone and, instead, he closed his eyes and tried to imprint every detail of her lovely face in his mind.
Tomorrow she’d be out of his life… out of his life… he kept repeating, in an effort to keep himself focused on reality. And that was exactly how it should be. She’d explained how she needed to return home and, on one level, he understood. Pity his heart didn’t comprehend as easily as his brain. Just one sign from Laura now and his brain would have handed control to his heart.
Suddenly his laptop dinged. He twisted it round to face him, stabbed at a few keys and froze, his eyes narrowing as he re-read the challenge. The very private challenge. To him. Alone.
He pushed it away, as if it were a cobra about to strike, and stepped away. He stared at nothing, his mind full of the image of Laura leaving the room. The challenge said nothing of the future, only a demand for now and it was a challenge he could no longer refuse.
He rapidly typed his response and closed the laptop, turned off the light and walked out the door, down towards Laura’s room.
* * *
Laura stood by the closed door, dressed only in her robe, and waited for Max to arrive. She heard him walk down the corridor and she opened the door before he had a chance to knock.
“Max,” she breathed, her quiet, uncertain voice lost in the thickly carpeted hallway. He stood silhouetted against the subdued hall lighting. She stood back. “Come in.”
He didn’t move. “Are you sure?”
She nodded, suddenly not knowing what she thought. All she knew was what her body was telling her to do, and it seemed her brain had no power over that. “Sure, I’m sure.”
He nodded thoughtfully and walked past her as she held the door open for him. She stood, hands pressed behind her against the door and watched him prowl around the room, like some animal scenting its prey. Her?
He stopped suddenly. “Tell me, Laura, what is it exactly you want?”
“Didn’t I make that clear in the challenge?”
“No. You wanted me to come here, now. What for? I need you to be clear.”
She opened her mouth to speak but no words emerged. She swallowed and cleared her throat. “I want you.” God! Now she sounded too loud, as if she’d shouted the words at him. She sucked in a breath, trying to control the overwhelming feeling that she was about to stuff this up—her one and only chance to experience the love of which she’d never dared dream. “I want you to make love to me, Max.” She uttered his name with an emotional twist in her voice which had the effect of shattering the reserve on his face.
“Laura!” He exhaled her name. “Are you sure?”
She nodded, not trusting herself to speak. She pressed her lips hard together to stop them from quivering and walked to him. He reached out and pushed his fingers through her hair and brought her head up to his. With both hands tangled in her hair he held her face, not as before, as if it were the most precious thing, but as if he wanted to lose himself in her. He pressed his mouth to hers with a soft grunt.
She felt as if her world had collapsed, that nothing existed except for the insistent caress of his lips on hers, inching into her soul, turning her body liquid and hot with desire. She’d been scared she wouldn’t know what to do but she found her hands knew exactly where to go—molding over the contours of his chest, before sweeping up to his neck where she laced her fingers together, as if afraid he’d pull away. But, as he deepened the kiss, she realized there was only one thing to do—surrender. He wasn’t going anywhere and the act of giving control to someone else, especially someone who appeared to have only her satisfaction on his mind, was thrilling.
She relaxed in his arms and he took control, pressing his body against hers, his arms holding her tight. She might weaken, but he’d support her, he’d make sure she didn’t fall. She practically melted into his arms. But it seemed he was still cautious because when he pulled away, there was a look of concern on his face.
“Are you okay? We can stop if you like.”
“I don’t like!”
“But—”
She stepped back and undid the tie of her robe. It fell apart and his gaze roved over her body with an appreciation and anticipation that nearly undid her. Slightly awkwardly she smoothed down her practical, toweling robe. “Not designed to seduce, I’m afraid.”
He raised an eyebrow. “You don’t need any design,” he said with a crooked smile. He stepped forward. “All you need is for me to”—he pushed the robe from her shoulders and it fell to the floor—“do this.”
She gasped but the gasp was robbed as his mouth took control of her once more, not only her lips now, but lower, allowing her no more time to consider anything, only experience everything. And she wanted to remember every moment of her night with Max, because she knew the memories might have to last her the rest of her life.
* * *
Max shifted slightly in his sleep and Laura kissed the inside of his arm on which she lay. Making love to Max had been totally different to what she’d imagined. She’d always thought it would be like eating something delicious—a more than pleasant sensation which was over before it had a chance to begin. Something yummy, something ephemeral, something fleeting.
Gently, so gently so as not to awaken him, she stroked her hand down his chest, over the springy hairs and left her hand to rest over his heart which rose and fell above a rhythm which felt like her own. Fleeting? There was nothing fleeting about this. So where did that leave her?
Laura looked out the window at the snow clouds which swept darkly across the night sky, obliterating the stars. Thick snowflakes slapped against the glass, rested a moment, before their complexity broke down, combining, and slithering down the window pane, coming to rest in U-shaped drifts on the frame. It was mesmerizing. The minutes turned into hours as Laura lay awake, her burning eyes seeing more in the darkness than she’d ever seen before. The snow passed and the sky opened up again, visible above the small drifts which clung icily to the windows.
It was as if her thoughts and feelings were attuned to the sky, first shadowy, and then, as daylight approached, becoming clear. Suddenly everything had become very clear.
* * *
Max lay with eyes closed, listening to the sound of Laura moving quietly around the room as she gathered her things together. She was going to leave, just slip away because she was right, there was nothing left to say.
She was going; he was staying. But still, as he listened intently to each sound she made—from her slow but clumsy movements as she tried, but failed, to be quiet—a lingering hope remained. It was only when he heard the clink of something metallic being placed onto an ornamental dish beside the bed, that the hope faded.
He held his breath, waiting to see what she’d do next. She hesitated for one moment before walking to the door, opening it and closing it slowly so as not to disturb him. But she misjudged the door and it banged into place.
He immediately opened his eyes and stared into the breaking gray light. A quick scan of the room showed she hadn’t left anything behind. She must have packed the previous night. She’d been prepared.
Something closed in his heart, then. He rose and entered the shower, turning it to cold—the same cold as the snow that fell outside the window. He didn’t want warmth, he didn’t want any attempt at comfort. There was none to be had. What he wanted was something to take the pain away, and if he couldn’t do that, somet
hing to distract him from the pain he felt at the loss of her. Only then, when the cold traveled through his skin, driving into his muscles, into his bones, did he feel any element of rest. He allowed the numbness to fill him, his brain, his heart, his lungs. He’d done the right thing. He’d had to let her go, cut contact with her, because she wouldn’t have done it and she needed to. It was the only way for her to really heal—not just physically, but emotionally, too. She’d wanted to try sex, he’d obliged. It was nothing more than that—on her part anyway.
He quickly dressed and went to work in his office. He didn’t turn on the TV, or the computer, and had no inclination to check Twitter. He focused on nothing but work. And, as soon as the chairlift was open he took his skis and went to the top of the ski run. There he stayed for some time, looking around at the majesty of the mountains, which suddenly seemed insignificant compared to his feelings for Laura.
It was only after he’d watched the small cavalcade of cars drive carefully down the snowy road, that he’d skied down the mountain, expertly cutting through the fresh snow of the difficult run, the cold air stinging his face, cauterizing his lungs, and causing him sufficient pain to distract him from his other pain.
12
“Laura’s back, she’s well, but is she ready for her next challenge?” @TellTaleGirl #laura’sreturn
Three months later…
Laura had done what he’d asked and hadn’t contacted him. And he hadn’t looked back. He’d thrown himself into his work. His life was his work. Hadn’t it always been?
But it hadn’t stopped him watching her transformation on the internet—from the YouTube “It Girl” who always accepted every challenge, to someone lower key, someone who posted more thoughtful comments, someone who’d stayed put in her community with her family, building bridges, making herself whole again. And he was happy for her. But less happy for himself.
Especially now. He glanced at the unopened email from Laura’s solicitor. She hadn’t even bothered to email him directly about it. It was what Max had feared—what had driven him into his work with almost desperate energy—she’d grown, but she’d grown away from him.
His hand hovered over the key to open the email but the tight knot inside in which he’d wrapped his feelings all those months ago threatened to unravel. He pushed his chair away from the desk as if retreating from something dangerous. It was business. That’s all it was. Laura had grown so far away from him that she’d reduced their relationship to business. So he’d get Chelsey to handle it.
He walked through the Lodge to Chelsey’s office. The place was busier than ever, thanks to all the publicity his marriage had brought him and his business. They’d been able to renovate and rebuild some of the older parts of the Lodge, and make it into the place he’d always envisaged it being. What he hadn’t imagined was how empty he’d feel. Even the early spring buds on the cherry trees stirred the pain he always carried, emphasizing as they did, how much time had elapsed since he’d seen Laura.
He opened the office to see the now usual signs of activity. They’d taken on more staff to cope with the extra work and the place was humming. Chelsey sat in one corner talking on the phone, as immaculate and professional as ever. He stood in front of the picture window looking out at his, and his family’s creation, as he listened to her end of the phone call.
“No problem, sir. Our chef will ensure the marriage supper is exactly as you describe.” She paused. “Yes, we look forward to seeing you then.” She clicked off the call, and placed the phone on the desk. “Ha! Another wedding.” She raised a satisfied eyebrow. “Seems we’re the go-to place for weddings now. Everyone wants a ‘Laura and Max’ wedding.”
Max’s heart sunk a little lower. He hadn’t thought it could fall any further.
“What’s up?” asked Chelsey, leaning back in her chair and eyeing him with that penetrating way she had. “Bothered by the fact it’s a ‘Max and Laura’ wedding?”
Max didn’t dignify the question with an answer. “I… have to go somewhere this morning. Deal with my emails, will you?”
“Where are you going?”
Max huffed an irritated sigh. “I have an appointment.” He leaned on the desk in what he hoped was an assertive fashion. “Not that it’s any of your business.”
“Actually it is.” She checked her computer screen diary. “And no, you don’t.”
“I haven’t time for this.” He walked toward the door.
“Max!”
He hesitated, hand on the door handle. “What?”
“Is everything okay?”
It was her softer tone which made him turn around. He tried to smile but he suspected, by her lack of response, that he hadn’t succeeded. “Sure. Why wouldn’t it be?”
She rose from her chair, came over to him, and placed her hand on his arm. “Maybe because you’ve had your heart broken for the first time in your life?”
“I don’t need this, Chelsey. All I need is for you to deal with my emails. Okay?”
“You can’t keep running from it, Max. You have to deal with it.”
Max grunted in exasperation. “Why do I surround myself with women who never answer a direct question and who don’t rest until they’ve interrogated me over every decision I make?”
Chelsey looked strangely sad and awkward. “I’m afraid there’s nothing you can do about that. Because you see, Max Connelly, you’re one of the good guys and whoever you let close, can’t help caring for you.”
Max instantly thought of Laura. “Not everyone, Chelsey, not everyone.”
It was only when he stepped outside and was walking to his car that Chelsey’s expression filtered through his own concerns. He stopped briefly and closed his eyes. He’d never wanted to hurt Chelsey. He’d thought she’d moved on. Maybe she had. Maybe, he thought as he continued to the car, she cared for him in a sisterly way. He hoped so. Either way what he’d said to her was true. He had to be somewhere, alright—anywhere but here.
It was late by the time Max returned to the Lodge. Despite the lateness of the hour, the office light was still on. He hesitated outside, fingered his phone which he’d been ignoring all afternoon, and went inside.
Chelsey was on the phone. She looked up as soon as he entered. “I’ll call you later. Max has turned up.” She tossed the phone down and turned to Max, hands on hips. “Why haven’t you been answering my messages, my calls? Max! It’s not on! You leave here without telling anyone where you’re going and expect us to carry on as if nothing’s happened. This is a business. Your business—”
He held up his hand to make her stop. “I know, I know. I’m sorry. I needed to get away for a few hours.”
“It wouldn’t be anything to do with that email you received from Laura’s lawyers this morning, would it?”
He shrugged. “Why would it? Only another business email.”
“Only another business email,” Chelsey repeated as she walked to the laptop. “And I assume you believed it to be about the annulment of your marriage.”
“Of course. That’s what we planned.”
“Well, you know, Max, what they say about the best laid plans…”
“So, you’ve dealt with it?”
“No, I haven’t. It’s not for me to deal with.”
“I asked you to deal with it,” he said, unable to prevent anger from creeping into his tone.
She folded her arms and looked at him squarely. “I’ve known you a long time and I’ve never seen you like this before.”
“Like what?” he muttered, turning around. Chelsey was too damned perceptive.
“Like a lovelorn teenager.”
He shot her a filthy look. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
“Okay a lovelorn man. Max, you might fool Laura, you might fool your family, but you don’t fool me.” She stepped away from the desk and went toward him. “You,” she said, tapping her finger on his chest, “need to sort yourself out. And the sooner the better.”
Suddenly all the pretense fe
ll away. What was the point? He shook his head, full of despair. “I’ve been dreading this moment. I knew it was coming, but…”
“But you’d hoped she’d come to the end of the three-month ‘no contact’ period—which you instigated, may I remind you—and decide to stay married. To a man who’d told her to leave.”
“Maybe… something like that.”
She sighed and went to the laptop, pressed a few buttons so its contents was beamed onto the wall usually used for presentations. Then she took a step back and folded her arms. “Read that.”
Max had no idea why Chelsey should have suddenly decided to ram the point home that his marriage had always been fake, that he’d fallen in love despite that, and that it had now come to the point where it dissolved into nothing, as if it had never happened.
“Read!” said Chelsey. But it wasn’t her imperative tone which made him look up at the screen. It was something else. Chelsey’s whole face was alight with amusement. “Read,” she repeated, more softly.
He turned to the screen on which a letter from Laura’s solicitor was showing. He scanned it, noted the formal wording but his eyes refused to move beyond a sentence, encased in the legalese.
“Laura McKinley requests the honor of your hand in marriage.”
“What?” He turned in bewilderment to Chelsey.
“What do you mean, ‘what’?” Chelsey said, doubling over with laughter. She stood up and wiped her tears. “It’s a proposal of marriage, Max! Laura wants to marry you, in the top meadow. Next week.”
“But our marriage hasn’t been annulled yet!”
“And it doesn’t look as if she wants it to be either. So, what do you say?”
Max smiled and shook his head. Then he looked back at the words, suddenly doubtful, suddenly not believing such a miracle could happen. “And you’re sure this isn’t someone’s idea of a joke?”