by Blake, Jill
Max’s voice pulled her from her thoughts. “We’ve still got some things to discuss.”
“We do?” Eva blinked. She was an idiot. Why would Max want to trade in his a babe magnet for a family-size car? “Right. Well, I’m all set here. Would you mind taking this out to the car?”
Max hefted the box of leftover swag and shouldered Eva’s computer bag. “Keys?”
She handed them over. “We’ll meet you out there.”
He nodded and headed for the exit.
Nina cleared her throat, pulling Eva’s attention away from the mesmerizing sight of broad shoulders in a white dress shirt.
“So, you want to tell me what’s going on with you and Max?”
“No. I mean, nothing’s going on.”
Nina lifted a brow. “You sure?”
“Positive.” She turned to the stage. “Ben, come on. Time to go.”
“Just one more minute, Mom, okay?”
She sighed. “Fine.”
“You’re such a pushover,” Nina said.
“Tell me something I don’t know.”
Nina chuckled. “How’s this? I’m taking you to Sugarfish for lunch tomorrow.”
“I’d love to, but I can’t. Camp doesn’t start until Monday.”
“Bring Ben over for a playdate. Paul’s working from home. He can supervise and feed the boys.”
“He won’t mind?”
“Not at all.”
Oh, she was tempted. How long had it been since she and Nina really had a chance to catch up over a leisurely meal, without having to worry about childcare, or rushing to do errands, or washing the dishes afterwards? “What’s the occasion?”
“We’re celebrating the close of escrow.”
“Really? Tell me you’re not joking!”
“Not joking.” Nina wrapped an arm around her. “Here, maybe you should sit down.”
“I’m fine.” She took a deep breath. “I just can’t believe it’s happening so fast. I was half expecting them to back out.”
“Nope, I’ve got it in black and white, signed and notarized. I’ll give you the final packet tomorrow at lunch. And you should see the funds in your account by morning.”
Eva leaned against the table. “This means I can sign the new lease. The rental is still available?”
“Yes, but the family isn’t leaving until July. You’ll still need to lease back the house for a month. That’ll give you time to organize everything.”
“The furniture—I can’t take it with me, can I?”
“Some small items, maybe. But they’re renting out the house furnished.”
She closed her eyes, mentally tallying her to-do list. “I’ll have to sell everything.”
“Or put things in storage.”
Storage cost money. Even with the sale of the house, Eva was reluctant to spend any more than she had to. While this gave her some breathing room, her financial situation was still far from settled. There was the lawsuit to get through, and ongoing negotiations regarding Roger’s share of the company. For all she knew, those things could drag on for years.
In the meantime, she had a business to build, and a son to raise. Which meant no time and little money to spare.
So lunch at Sugarfish was probably not on the menu. She might love sushi, but this particular place was beyond her budget. And now that she thought about it, having a cozy tête-à-tête with Nina right after lying to her wasn’t exactly the smartest move.
But opening up about her relationship with Max wasn’t an option either. This was the man’s sister, for God’s sake. She didn’t want to jeopardize her friendship with Nina over something that was bound to have a pretty short expiration date.
She opened her eyes and dredged up a smile. “You still run?”
“Most mornings. Why?”
“I’d rather do that, if you don’t mind slowing the pace. Maybe go jogging on the beach, mid-morning? Have a bagel or something after.”
“Doesn’t sound like much of a celebration.”
“You’ll be doing me a favor. I need a kick in the pants to get back into running.”
“Really?”
“Yes.” She straightened and faced the stage. “Let’s go, Ben. Time’s up.”
Chapter 22
Ben took the news of the move well, once he understood that his friends and school would remain status quo. He was less enthusiastic about parting with some of his things, but they managed to reach a compromise on what he could keep and store at his grandparents’ house.
Eva turned preparing for a garage sale into a game. Angie came over on Saturday to help. Between emptying closets and drawers, and tagging items to keep, sell, or donate, they discussed the upcoming court case.
The days flew by. Camp started. In a last minute flurry of negotiations, Eva’s lawyer reached a settlement with the trustee in the Blackwell LLC case.
Quinn delivered the news with a self-deprecating grin. “The guy apparently decided he had bigger fish to fry.”
The terms Quinn managed to hammer out were better than Eva could have hoped for. In exchange for repaying the bulk of Roger’s “net gain” immediately—something that only became possible thanks to the timely sale of the house—Eva was granted a six-month deferral on a small portion of the money owed. That would help cover living expenses, at least until everything got squared away with the IRS regarding the taxes Roger had paid based on his investment’s fictitious “capital gains.”
It also bought her time to build her business. She could pursue the clientele she wanted, focusing on the niche market of indie writers, rather than spreading herself thin by taking on any paying client, like she had until now because money was tight and she couldn’t afford to be picky.
And she could actually try to find balance in her life again. Time not just for work, but also for family—her son, siblings, and parents—and for herself. Exercising regularly, instead of as a ploy to avoid questions from her best friend. Volunteering at school, once the new academic year started; perhaps not as much as she used to in the past, but more than she had opportunity for since Roger fell ill.
Maybe even exploring this crazy thing, whatever it was, with Max.
So when Nina called, offering to host a Friday night sleepover for the boys, Eva readily agreed.
Then, for the first time in her life, she picked up her phone and propositioned a man.
Chapter 23
Returning to work nearly four and a half months after his skiing accident was tougher than Max anticipated. In the past he’d done twelve hours back-to-back, hardly breaking a sweat. An eight-hour morning-into-early-afternoon shift filled with routine respiratory and GI complaints, minor sprains and lacerations, an atypical chest pain/rule-out MI, and not a single major trauma should have been a breeze.
Yet by the end of his first day, he was wiped out. A shot or two of Grey Goose might have helped, but it hadn’t occurred to him at the time when he’d limped to his freezer for an ice pack. And there was no way he was making another trip to the kitchen. Popping his second dose of eight hundred milligrams of ibuprofen, with a thousand milligram chaser of Tylenol, Max repositioned the ice on his propped-up leg and leaned back against the headboard.
That was how Eva found him. He’d left the front door unlocked for her. The way his leg felt when he came home, he didn’t think he’d be getting up anytime soon.
“Max! What happened?”
He opened his eyes and focused on her face. God, she was beautiful. Her dark hair fell in loose waves around her shoulders, an invitation to bury his hand in the tresses and tug—not enough to cause pain, but just to the point where she arched her neck and lifted her breasts.
His gaze followed the direction of his thoughts. She wore a loose sundress with buttons down the entire length, from V neck to hemline. And true to form, every single button was fastened.
He’d noted that about her from the start, the fact that she downplayed her sexuality, camouflaging her physical assets with modest co
llars and prim skirts. The only time he’d really seen her flaunt her figure was the first night they’d gone out, when she wore that mouth-watering red dress with the mile-high heels. Not that she needed to parade around in revealing clothes to attract his attention. He knew what was under those layers. Even when she wasn’t there, he could see the irresistible curves and shadows of her body, could taste the silky skin and fragrant heat. She’d gotten into his blood in a way no other woman ever had.
“Max?” She approached the bed cautiously, as if unsure what to make of his silence. “Is it your leg? Can I help?”
He took a deep breath. “Yes.”
“Tell me what to do.”
“Come closer.”
She did.
“Closer.”
Her gaze swept down to his knee, then paused on the way back up. He knew the moment she noticed his state of arousal. It was pretty hard to miss, given that he’d shed his clothing first thing on coming home, leaving only the boxer shorts in place. Her step faltered, her breathing changed. Despite the pain, he smiled.
“You’ve got to be kidding,” she said.
“You said you wanted to help.”
She eyes met his. “You’re telling me that sex will make it better?”
“Oh, yeah. All those endorphins…”
She raised an eyebrow, as if daring him to go on.
He shifted and winced. “Is that a no?”
“Maybe I should get you some aspirin instead.”
“I’m already maxed out on ibuprofen.”
She studied him a bit longer. “You don’t think sex will make your knee hurt worse?”
He fought to keep the grin off his face. “Nah. I’ll just lie here, let you do all the work.”
She hesitated, then bent forward, reached under the hem of the dress, and shimmied out of her panties. His mouth went dry.
In less than a minute, she had his boxers off, a condom in place, her dress rucked up and her bare knees straddling his hips on either side. Bracing her hands on his shoulders, she leaned down. Her lips hovered just above his. “Is this what you had in mind?”
Instead of answering, he speared his fingers into her hair and claimed her mouth. Her tongue slid against his and her nails bit into his skin. The hard plastic buttons of her dress pressed against his chest and abs, momentarily distracting him. And then she was pulling back, slipping her palm between them, gliding it down his body until she had his erection firmly in hand.
He groaned as she sank down on top of him, squeezing him with her inner muscles, then releasing and reversing course. Again and again she repeated the process, slowly, as if they had all the time in the world, until he wanted to grab her hips and plunge into her wet heat, hard and fast and deep.
She rocked her pelvis against him, teasing, providing just enough friction to keep him on edge but not enough to send him over.
He growled his frustration against her lips, felt the responding smile on hers. Sliding his hands to her shoulders, he pressed until she took the hint and sat up.
“Oh!” Her eyes flew open as he surged higher into her.
He took advantage of the new position, flicking open her buttons and parting the soft cotton to reveal the bra beneath. Running his thumb under the scalloped edge, he teased the nipple, feeling her muscles contract around him with every brush of his finger. He turned his attention to the other breast, kneading and rolling the nipple there until she was panting, her movements above him jerky and uncoordinated.
Time to take control. He released her breasts and anchored her hip with one hand, trailing the other down her stomach to where they were joined. A stroke of his thumb, and she shuddered. He gritted his teeth and grazed her clit again and again, settling into an ever-quickening rhythm that had her crying out and toppling forward, her face buried in the crook of his neck. Pulling his hand free, he gripped both hips and lifted, then brought her down hard, over and over, gasping, trembling, and finally spilling himself inside her.
They lay still for a while, breath slowing, sweat cooling, her body draped atop his. When she stirred, he groaned and tightened his fingers on her.
She lifted her head, brushed her lips across his jaw. “So, how do you feel?”
He took a deep breath, savoring the vanilla scent of her skin mixed with the musk of sex. “Mmm…”
Her elbow dug into his ribs. “I meant the knee.”
Now that she mentioned it, the ache was back, but not as bad as before. He opened his eyes and smiled. “Just what the doctor ordered.”
###
The following morning, he woke to an empty bed and the welcome smell of freshly brewed coffee. He followed the scent downstairs.
Eva stood at the counter, slathering butter on a piece of toast. She wore a half-buttoned oxford shirt that hit mid-thigh. It was one of several dozen identical button-downs hanging in his closet, his go-to for when a casual T shirt or scrubs just wouldn’t do. Sleeves rolled up, collar gaping enough to offer glimpses of naked breast beneath, the shirt had never looked as good on him as it did on her.
“Morning, sunshine.”
The knife clattered against the plate as his hands closed around her waist. She glanced over her shoulder. “I made coffee, if you want some.”
“In a minute.”
He lifted her chin with the edge of his finger and tasted her lips. She leaned into the kiss, breaking off only when he nudged his growing erection against her. “Food first,” she said with a breathless laugh. “We skipped dinner last night.”
“It was worth it,” he said, brushing her jaw with a final kiss before stepping back. “How long can you stay?”
She glanced at the microwave clock. “Nina’s taking the boys to karate. We’ve got a couple hours before I have to pick up Ben.”
“In that case,” he grinned and wiggled his brows, “we can definitely do a quick breakfast.”
She laughed. “Eggs?”
“Would love some.” He poured himself coffee and topped off her cup. “Need help?”
“No.” She rifled through the fridge, pulling out a half-carton of eggs, milk, and block of parmesan. “I can do an omelet. Do you have any greens?”
“Bottom left drawer.”
She pulled out a bag of half-wilted spinach and some scallions. “How’s your knee, by the way?”
“Good.” He sipped his coffee and watched her exploring the contents of his cabinets until she found what she needed. Even here, in an unfamiliar kitchen, her movements seemed confident, efficient. Sorting, rinsing, and chopping the vegetables. Picking out a bowl, fork, spatula, pan. Lining up the spices. He smiled. “I could get used to this.”
Her shoulders stiffened. A reaction to the idea, or to the fact that he was echoing her words from a couple weeks ago? She’d changed the subject then, and he let it go. But now, perversely, he wanted to press the issue, get it out into the open.
“You’re low on milk,” she said.
“Eva.”
“What?” She cracked an egg against the edge of the bowl, hard enough that the shell crumbled.
“Are we going to ignore this?”
She discarded the crushed shells, rinsed her hands, and applied herself to beating the egg mixture. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You called me yesterday. And for once it wasn’t about the book, or the marketing. I thought that meant something, that you were ready for something more. But now you’re pulling back. Again.”
“I’m not,” she said. “I’m here making breakfast, aren’t I?”
“You’re missing the point.”
“No, Max,” she said, putting down the fork and turning to face him. “What you don’t seem to understand is that I have responsibilities, a son, a life that has nothing to do with this.”
Nothing to do with you. She didn’t say it, but she might as well have. He folded his arms across his chest and took a deep breath. “I do understand, Eva. You’re a terrific mother. And you have an amazing talent and work ethic
. I respect that, and I’m not trying to interfere with it. But I would like us to spend more time together.”
“I don’t have more time.”
“I’m not asking for much. It doesn’t even have to be one-on-one. I’d be happy going with you to pick up Ben from karate. Take both of you to lunch afterwards.”
She frowned. “I don’t want Ben to get the wrong idea.”
“Christ, Eva, haven’t we gotten past that? We went to Griffith Park, spent the day together, the three of us. And you had fun. Admit it.”
“That was a one off,” she said, turning back to the stove. She dropped a pat of butter onto the waiting pan and flicked on a burner. “Besides, this isn’t about me. I’m perfectly fine with the way things are right now.”
He wanted to rail at her for being so stubborn. And punch out whoever had hurt her in the past and made her this leery of opening up. But most of all he wanted to kiss her, reassure her, wrap his arms around her and never let her go.
He inhaled sharply, startled at the thought.
It was true. Somehow, somewhere along the line, their relationship had changed. He had changed. Sure, the initial attraction may have been spurred by her unattainability. Rather than falling into his lap like so many women had in the past, she’d made him work for her attention, even after she was ostensibly available. But that alone wouldn’t have kept him hooked. No, his growing fascination with her wasn’t about her reluctance to engage in a relationship. If anything, he found that attitude baffling and increasingly frustrating.
The appeal lay in the woman herself. Her intelligence and creativity. Her dedication and enthusiasm. The wicked sense of humor that manifested at the most unexpected times. The warmth with which she talked about her siblings, and the love she clearly felt for her son.
He wanted to be part of her charmed inner circle. Wanted to wake up with her every morning. Wanted to kiss her whenever he felt like it, regardless of who might be looking. Wanted to spend his days and nights with her, rather than having to beg for scraps of time and attention whenever she didn’t have anything more pressing to take care of. He wasn’t satisfied being an afterthought on her to-do list. He wanted to share his life with her, and be an integral part of her world.