by Conley, Anne
“Too what, Claire?” His voice was still just as soft as butter.
“Too intense.” She said in a whisper, her voice suddenly lost to her.
He leaned back. “Ah.” As if that explained everything.
“What?” She asked.
“You can’t handle the chemistry.” He said simply.
“What chemistry?”
“The reason you do the things you do when you are around me, is because we have chemistry. An extremely strong sexual attraction.” He lingered on the word sexual, drawing it out longer than it needed to be. “I’ve felt it too.”
Claire was speechless. He hadn’t touched her the whole time they’d been sitting here, but for some reason, she felt little tingles and shivers running all over her body. She couldn’t tell if it was from his proximity, his voice, they way he looked, or what. But she felt it.
“I’ve never done any of this stuff with men. I don’t start relationships with all the sexual stuff we’ve been...” She sat up and looked him squarely in the eyes. “I usually get to know men first. I don’t just jump into bed with them.” She looked down at her lap. “I’m not really comfortable with you. And what we’ve...” She waved her hands around, flustered. “Done together. I don’t feel like I know you.”
“Because I’m too intense?”
“No. Because you’re too arrogant. You’ve assumed since we first met, we would eventually end up in bed together, and I’m not that kind of girl.”
“I know you’re not. That’s part of the draw. And I haven’t assumed anything.”
“Yes, you have. The way you were just sitting by your window last night, watching for me to come out of the shower. You were assuming something there.”
He sighed. “You’re right. I was assuming you forgot about the curtains. I was tired of avoiding the view, tired of trying not to think about you, over there in your room, tired from sleeping on the wrong side, so I wouldn’t wake up facing your window, seeing you in your pajamas, unaware of the things you were doing to me. I was tired of all that, and I decided if you weren’t going to take my advice, I was just going to get my fill.” His eyes scoured her body.
She turned away from him, unable to take feeling his gaze on her. “I’m sorry about all of this.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m afraid I’ve given you the wrong impression of me. I’m not like this. I’m not a…tease.”
“It’s the chemistry.” He gently pulled on her arm, to turn her toward him. “The only thing left to do is to figure out what we’re going to do about it.”
“Do? Why do we have to do anything?”
“You were willing last night.” His hand stayed on her upper arm, his thumb rubbing back and forth on her bicep.
“Yeah, I was drunk last night.”
“On three beers?”
“Okay, and whatever you did at the bar.” He raised his eyebrows at her. “And kissing you got out of control. I wasn’t myself.”
“Claire. We have something here. I’m going to pursue it, even if you don’t want me to. You agreed to a date, for whatever reason. I’m going to continue to chase you, if that is what it takes until you see we can be good together. Very good.” His hand clasped her shoulder and pulled her closer until her mouth was inches from his. “It’s not your imagination, Claire.” His mouth slanted over hers in a scorching kiss, but Claire wasn’t going to let him sway her with it.
She set her lips closed against his mouth determinedly. His tongue caressed the bottom lip, enticing it to open for him, but she wouldn’t falter in her resolve. His mouth was warm, and as his arms went around her body, she felt the hard planes of his muscles envelope her in a cocoon. She was breathless, and her heart was pounding, but she was stubborn. She continued to resist, staying rigid against his touch. His mouth suckled gently on her lip, eliciting an involuntary gasp from her.
Claire could feel a rumbling chuckle from him against her mouth before he pulled away from her.
“Have it your way, Claire.” He pulled away, and resumed his lounging position next to her, but he didn’t stop looking at her. “For now.”
They watched the rest of the movie in silence, Claire intensely aware of his periodical glances turning to lingering stares. She ignored them, pointedly, pretending to be entranced in the movie she had seen dozens of times, acutely conscious of his every move.
When the movie was over, they silently gathered everything together, Claire folding the quilt, before they made their way to the truck.
“I’ll take you home, but I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Just take me home.” Claire said it as dismissively as she could. She wanted to apologize for being so stand-offish, but a part of her didn’t want to give him the pleasure.
As soon as they pulled up in front of the house, Claire knew something was wrong.
Chapter 8
Her first clue was that all of the lights were on, and a sinking feeling settled in her stomach. Her second clue was the front door was wide open, and she started to panic. She opened the door to the truck and threw herself across the lawn.
“Wait, Claire!” She could hear Max’s words, but she was ignoring them. His boots pounded the ground behind her.
A sob ripped through her throat as she went inside the house to find destruction everywhere. Somebody had broken into her house, and used a sledgehammer of sorts to pound giant holes in the sheet rock of the walls. They had used a crow bar to rip molding down from around the doors. They had yanked the pocket doors out of the walls. In short, they destroyed her house.
Claire stomped through her home, evidence in each room of more and more destruction, Max at her heels.
“Claire, wait.” He grabbed her arm, but she shook him off. “Honey, look at me.”
She spun to face him. “What?”
“Let me make sure no one’s still here, before you go off half-cocked, okay?”
Claire was fighting back burning tears of rage, trembling uncontrollably. “Who would do this? Who would destroy my house like this? I don’t have anything.” She looked around at the mess around her. “And now, what little I did have is ruined.” Her voice had risen to a hysterical shriek.
Max pulled her into an embrace, stroking her back. “It’s okay. I’ll help you fix it, if you want me to.” Her face nuzzled against his solid chest, she could only feel his arms as they pulled out his cell phone.
“Are you calling the police?” She mumbled into his shirt.
“Don’t you think I should?” He didn’t wait for her answering nod, dialing emergency services to report the break-in. She listened, snuggled in the warmth of his arms, as he calmly explained to the dispatcher what happened, and gave her address.
After hanging up, he gripped her tighter in his embrace. “The police should be here shortly.”
She couldn’t help herself. As much as she wanted to hate this man, this man who wanted her house, wanted the gold, wanted her…she just couldn’t do it. Everything he had done, he’d done for her, to be nice to her. And now, he was holding her, making her feel safe, protecting her. She cried.
It wasn’t a dainty little weeping cry, either. Claire let loose loud wracking sobs, full of snot and drool, completely ruining the front of his shirt. But he didn’t seem to mind. He continued holding her, stroking her back, until eventually her sobs subsided, and she could breathe again.
“Can I look around the house? Just to make sure that whoever did this is gone? Please Claire?” She nodded her head, not ready for him to let go of her. “Do you want to come with me? Or do you want to stay here?”
“Come with you.” She mumbled.
“Okay. Come on, then.” He grasped her hand in his, and grabbing a piece of a two by four that had been wrenched from the wall, he led her from room to room, checking behind doors and in closets, until he was satisfied that they were alone. Back downstairs, in the kitchen, he looked at her, his gaze intense.
She shifted her feet, suddenly uncomfortable under
his scrutiny. Something about Max left her bewildered, and she couldn’t put her finger on it. His eyes filled with concern, as he stepped closer to her, the heat radiating from his proximity leaving her breathless.
“Claire, I’m sorry this happened.” His voice was soft, like a caress across her face, and she looked up into his eyes. They were inches from hers, which meant his mouth was close. All it would take was a lean forward, and she would be kissing him again. The thought crossed her mind that wouldn’t be a bad thing.
A knock at the door interrupted her, and she jumped back as if she’d been shocked. “That’s probably the police,” she mumbled, turning away from Max.
He followed her to the door, close at her heels. She opened the door to two uniformed police officers.
“Ma’am? We’re here about a break-in?”
“Yes, come in.”
They followed her inside, and took her statement, interrupting only to ask questions for clarification. Max let them know about the delivery she’d had made, and the guys who’d been inside her house. To her annoyance, the police officers nodded knowingly at Max when he’d told them the names.
“They’ve been on a watch list for a while, now. We can’t actually catch them doing anything to put them away, though. Mind if we look around?” The taller of the two seemed to be in charge, and was asking most of the questions.
Claire nodded, “Go ahead, please.”
Max and Claire stood awkwardly while the police officers walked through her house. She could hear them rummaging around the debris upstairs, while she tried not to look at Max. She still felt the strange pull to him, and wanted nothing more than to be in his arms again, but she resisted with everything she had inside. She couldn’t let this change her decision to not get involved in a relationship. As much as she felt like he could be trusted, she didn’t trust herself.
She looked up at him, leaning against the wall and wondered what he was thinking. He was staring at her, arms crossed, with a determined look on his face.
“What?” She finally asked him.
He opened his mouth to answer, but the officers were just coming down the stairs and interrupted him.
“We didn’t find anything that would lead us to believe they will be back anytime soon. It looks like they were pretty thorough in their search. It isn’t a good idea for you to stay here though, until you get the locks fixed and a security system installed.”
“I was just thinking the same thing.” Max drawled, his look of determination turning to satisfaction.
“I’ll be alright. They won’t be back tonight.” Claire replied, not at all wanting Max to spend the night.
“You can’t be sure. If it is those two, you can’t know what’s going on with them.” The officers made to leave. “We’ll be in touch.” Shaking her hand, they exited the house, leaving Claire and Max alone.
“I would like to stay here the night. In case they come back.” Max had walked over to stand behind her, and she felt his breath on her hair.
She turned to face him, and his sudden nearness left her breathless. “They’re not coming back, Max. Go home.”
“I won’t stay in your room with you. I’ll sleep down here somewhere, but I’m not leaving you in this house alone. Whoever came here tonight, knew you weren’t home. They could be watching the house.” He spoke softly, but with conviction.
That declaration sent a chill up Claire’s spine.
“Okay. But you have to sleep on the floor. You’re not sleeping in my bed.” Suddenly, Claire was too depressed to care what he did.
“That’s fine with me.”
“I’m going to bed.” She turned to go up the stairs.
“Now?”
“Yes, Max. It’s been a long day, and I’m very frustrated with you, and my house is destroyed, and this is how I deal with things. I go to bed. You’ll be lucky if I get out of it tomorrow.” She trudged up the stairs to her room.
As she changed into pajamas, she could hear Max downstairs puttering around. It sounded like he was straightening up, but Claire didn’t care. She was drained.
Her house was destroyed and she didn’t know what she was going to do about it. The beautiful molding around the doors and windows was its best feature, and now all of it had been ripped down. And not ripped down well, at all. It had been torn apart, as if whoever did was making sure that they weren’t hollow or something.
And the holes in the walls…Claire didn’t know how to fix that. Not that she knew how to fix the molding either.
Shit.
She was now worse off than she had been when she moved here. All of her savings had gone into repairs on the house. And now all of her repairs had to be re-done, and then some. The only money she had was a little from Uncle Eddie’s estate he’d split up and left his nieces and nephews, and that was what she had planned to live on for several months. Another sob escaped from her throat.
A quiet knock sounded on her door. Max’s voice followed, softly. “Claire? Are you alright?”
“Yes.”
He opened the door, and stood in the doorway, watching her.
She sighed. Would he never leave her alone? “What do you want, Max?”
His eyes roamed her pajama-clad body, lying in bed. “Um…I just wanted to make sure you were going to be okay up here.”
“I’m fine. I’m all tucked in, ready for bed. I’m just thinking, that’s all.”
“What about?”
“Thoughts. Thoughts are things that hang out inside my head. If I wanted to tell you about them, I would say, ‘Hey Max! I just had a thought!’ But I didn’t, so if you don’t mind…” She rolled over, and tucked her blankets tightly under her chin, willing him to go away, wondering why she was being such a bitch.
“Okay. Uh, do you have any extra blankets?”
She turned her head to look at him, still standing in her doorway. He was leaning against it tensely, arms crossed. His eyes held a look of concern for her, and he looked genuine. Suddenly she had a pang of guilt in her gut. Everything about him was so genuine, he didn’t put up facades for her to figure out. And what had she done? She had done nothing but send this man mixed signals. She had been bitching at him nonstop, but throwing herself at him at the same time. A lesser man would have run screaming.
But he was still here.
“I’m sorry, Max.”
Surprise lit his features. “For what?”
“For being such a bitch. You don’t deserve the way I’ve treated you these past couple of days. You’ve been nothing but nice to me, and I’ve just crabbed on you every chance I got. I suppose I need to rethink my opinion of you.”
He straightened in the doorway, and walked over to her, sitting on the side of her bed. She scooted over to make more room for his enormous frame.
“I’ll let you rethink you’re opinion of me, if you want.” His hand stroked her leg through the covers. “But I kind of like you ‘crabbing on me.’”
“What on earth for?”
A mischievous grin spread his face wide. “I like feisty women.” Sobering a little, he stroked her shoulder, softly. “Who hurt you, Claire?”
“What?”
“You act like you’re gun-shy about men. I know you probably think I’ll use you to get this house, or the gold, or whatever, and I just wonder who hurt you so bad you’re willing to think the worst of me?”
She sighed heavily, not really wanting to discuss her romantic failures with him. “It wasn’t just one guy…It was a string of bad relationships.” She shifted in the bed to look at him. “I’m a lousy judge of character.”
She grabbed his hand, and pulled it to her face, examining it. He leaned over her slightly to allow it. She could smell him, he smelled like grass and man, a heady odor that reeled her senses. His hand was huge, and calloused, covered with scratches and scars. She turned it over, and rubbed his palm with her index finger, stroking its roughness.
“Am I wrong about you, too?”
Max leaned over,
more, so his face was inches from hers. “I’m a good guy, Claire. Not perfect. But I have a good business, I don’t live with my mom, and I respect women. I don’t know what’s happened to you in the past, but I promise you, I’m not out to hurt you.” He said it all softly, his buttery voice like a caress.
“You can sleep in my bed with me tonight.” She said quietly, not looking at him.
“Why?”
“Because I haven’t slept in a man’s arms without any expectations in a while, and I think I need it tonight. If you keep questioning me, I might change my mind.”
Max stood abruptly, pulling his shirt up over his head while he kicked off his boots. Undoing his belt, he looked at Claire questioningly.
She nodded, “As long as you’re wearing underwear. I’m not ready to do all that yet.”
Max grinned at her, and lowered his jeans to the floor. Claire exhaled a breath she didn’t know she’d been holding as she looked at Max’s nearly naked body.
The man didn’t seem to have an ounce of fat on him anywhere. His broad shoulders tapered to a narrow waist that led to strong muscular legs. A fine layer of dark hair covered his chest, and the enticing trail from his navel to the waistband of his boxers made her pulse quicken. Forcing her eyes back to his face, she could see he was still smiling, albeit a little smugly.
She pulled the covers open. “Quit grinning at me like that, and get your ass in here.”
He crawled under the covers and pulled her into his arms. His limbs entwined with hers, before he settled down, pulling her body close to his.
“You feel good, Claire.”
“Don’t ruin it, Max.”
“How am I ruining anything?” His voice sounded hurt, but since her face was snugly nuzzled into his adam’s apple, she couldn’t see it.