She needed to see him again tonight if only to try and find the answer to that. All the time hoping it was because he loved her!
‘Did you?’ She moved on tiptoe to lightly brush her lips against his. ‘Dinner.’ She held up the bag she carried, looking at him beneath from under lashes.
He looked ruggedly handsome in a black silk shirt and faded black denims, his feet once again bare; obviously it was a trait of his when in the privacy of his apartment. Or else it was his way of having less clothing to remove later…
Oh, God!
Just looking at him made her feel weak at the knees. Not only did she know Max intimately, but he knew her in the same way—much more so than any other man. And without any declaration of love, from either of them, how could she help but feel a certain amount of shyness and uncertainty now that she was with him again?
Gary Holmes and his insinuations could just go to hell—she had enough insecurities of her own concerning this relationship without wondering if there was any truth in what he had said!
It was taking every ounce of self-confidence she had to face Max again this evening. In fact, with Max looking at her so broodingly, she suddenly wished she’d inherited some of her mother’s undoubted acting ability; she might at least have been able to pretend a semblance of sophistication then. As it was, she had absolutely no idea how to behave with this man who was her lover!
She smiled at him brightly. ‘Shall I take the food through to the kitchen?’ She didn’t wait for his reply before turning and doing exactly that. ‘I brought steak, potatoes, and the makings of a salad,’ she continued as she unpacked the food, desperately hoping to hide her increasing tension.
Max’s next comment proved she hadn’t succeeded. Sorry, Mum!
‘What’s happened, Abby?’
She opened wide cornflower-blue eyes. ‘Happened?’ she repeated with a puzzled glance.
Max was standing only inches away now, his expression more brooding than ever. ‘You seem—different.’
Well, of course she was different! She was no longer a twenty-seven-year-old virgin, but this man’s lover. And she had no idea and no experience of how to behave in a situation like this!
‘In what way do you feel I’m different this evening?’ she asked casually. ‘If you mean I seem a little tense, then you’re probably right. Unlike you, Max, I’m not just a little rusty; this is all new to me.’
‘Do you think I don’t know that?’ he murmured huskily, moving forward to take her into his arms, his gaze intent on her face. ‘Why me, Abby?’
He had known he was her first lover. That just made it all the more embarrassing. Max was thirty-nine, obviously a man of experience, and probably found it incredible that she had actually been a virgin. And, having no idea how he felt towards her, she could hardly come out with a declaration of love, now, could she?
She smiled, determined to salvage some of her shaky pride; after all, she was in her late twenties, not an immature schoolgirl. ‘Why not you?’ she came back flippantly. ‘I always was a late developer, but every girl has to start somewhere!’
His gaze was searching now. A gaze Abby withstood with effort.
Max shook his head. ‘If you had told me I would have been more—gentle.’
He had been ‘gentle’ enough for her to fall more deeply in love with him than ever!
‘Why didn’t you—’ she poked a friendly finger into his chest ‘—tell me that Gary Holmes was the director on your programme two years ago?’ Changing the subject, even to one as unpleasant as Gary Holmes, seemed like a good idea at that moment.
A shutter came down over Max’s features, telling her of his sudden tension. ‘You’ve talked to Holmes today?’ he said harshly.
‘Well, of course I’ve talked to Gary today; he’s the director of my show too, you know,’ Abby came back lightly—perhaps she did have some of her mother’s acting ability after all?
She certainly didn’t want to be having this seemingly playful conversation with Max. What she really wanted to do was scream and shout, to cry, to demand he tell her exactly what was going on, to pummel the hard width of his chest with her fists as she felt he was pummelling her heart.
Max’s arm dropped from about her waist and he stepped back, his expression wary now. ‘And what else did he have to say?’
She shrugged. ‘You know Gary—as acerbic as ever.’
Max’s mouth thinned. ‘Exactly what did he say to you, Abby?’ he rasped harshly.
Her mouth twisted. ‘Just his usual bluster, really. Mainly directed at the fact that I’ll never persuade you into appearing on my show. But then, I already know that, don’t I?’ she added with a casualness she was far from feeling. ‘Look, could we start cooking dinner now? I really am hungry.’ Every mouthful would probably choke her, but she was determined to get through this.
Because, if she were to salvage anything from this relationship at all, it was becoming increasingly obvious that she needed to know what had really happened two years ago. Was still happening?
Max seemed to shake himself out of his sudden tension with effort, taking the steaks from her to begin preparing them for grilling. ‘I think I now understand the reason why you aren’t in the best of moods this evening,’ he remarked lightly. ‘Gary Holmes used to have that effect on me too!’
Abby turned away to wash the potatoes. ‘You still haven’t told me why you didn’t mention he had been your director,’ she prompted.
Max grimaced. ‘Gary Holmes, and working with him, are things I’ve tried to block out of my mind.’
It wasn’t exactly an answer. Any more than Gary’s attitude towards Max had been explained by either of them. But it was obvious the two men disliked each other intensely, and it was yet another riddle Abby felt she had to get to the bottom of.
‘Here, let’s have a glass of wine—’ Max poured them both a glass of the red wine he’d uncorked ‘—and forget all about Gary Holmes.’
She only wished that she could, Abby acknowledged as she obligingly sipped the delicious wine. But no matter how she tried she simply couldn’t forget the awful things Gary had said to her.
‘How did your meeting go this morning?’ she asked, once they were sitting down to eat their meal.
Max had prepared the table in the dining-room before she’d arrived, with silver cutlery and lighted candles. Very romantic. Except Abby didn’t feel very romantic. What she really felt was an inexperienced fool. And fools, she knew, made bad company. Hence her less that scintillating conversation.
How much different this could have been, she cried inwardly. If she hadn’t already felt upset by Max’s sudden departure this morning. If Gary hadn’t poured his vitriol into her ears.
She could see by Max’s rueful expression that he was less than satisfied with the way the evening was going too.
‘Not very well,’ he answered her, sipping his wine. ‘I spent the best part of two hours over a mediocre breakfast, convincing a man that I’m not interested in having my biography written and that at thirty-nine I’m only halfway through my life, not at the end of it.’ He grimaced. ‘No doubt he’ll go ahead and write an unauthorised version, anyway.’
‘A biography?’ Abby’s interest quickened. ‘Now, that would be interesting,’ she said slowly. Very interesting!
Max gave her a reproachful grin. ‘If I’m not interested in appearing on a half-hour chat show, I’m certainly not interested in seeing a book about myself!’
She kept her lashes down in order to hide the sudden flare of hurt in her eyes.
That had been very neatly done. Too neatly. Letting her know that nothing had changed with regard to appearing on her show, but doing it without actually antagonising her. Because he still had the woman Kate to protect! That knowledge had nothing to do with anything Gary Holmes had told her this morning about the other woman’s full identity—she still didn’t trust him!—and everything to do with Max’s own attitude with regard to the other woman.
A
nd that would hurt no matter what Gary had said to her. She and Max were lovers, and yet there was another woman in his life called Kate that he refused to talk about. Not exactly reassuring to any new lover, was it?
How many other women in the last two years had wondered about Max’s friendship with the other woman, too? And how many of those relationships had floundered because of it?
More to the point, why was Max so secretive about the relationship?
The answer to that, if the woman really was Kate Mayhew, was all too easy to guess, Abby realised painfully; any public relationship between Kate Mayhew and Max Harding after the scandal two years ago would dredge it up all over again—perhaps even lead to speculation concerning exactly what their relationship might have been then.
In the same position, Abby felt she would say to hell with it and let the media do their worst. The fact that Max and Kate hadn’t only seemed to confirm that they had something to hide…
‘This evening isn’t going too well, is it?’ Max rasped suddenly, giving up all pretence of eating his own meal and pushing the plate away.
If he hadn’t left so abruptly this morning…If Gary hadn’t told her the things he had, causing her concerns to become full-blown doubts…Abby knew it would all have been so different then, that instead of being on the defensive, guarded in her words and actions, she would probably have behaved like a simpering lovestruck idiot. In retrospect, perhaps this was better. More painful, maybe, but better.
Her gaze was still guarded as she looked across at him. ‘We don’t know each other very well, that’s all,’ she said, with an attempt at unconcern.
He frowned darkly. ‘That didn’t seem to bother either of us last night.’
Sadly, despite everything, Abby knew it wouldn’t bother her if he were to take her in his arms again now either.
‘Perhaps that’s the problem?’ she suggested lightly. ‘We jumped ten steps ahead of where we really were.’
‘Well, it’s too late to go back on that now!’ Max flung the contents of his wine glass down his throat before standing up and moving forcefully away from the table.
Abby gave a pained frown, a little surprised at his sudden anger. ‘I wasn’t suggesting that we should—’
‘No?’ he challenged, pouring himself another glass of wine. ‘What is it you want from me, Abby? What do you want to know about me?’ His eyes were glacial. ‘Parents? Siblings? An exchange of the names of past lovers?’
The latter might be interesting. And painful. And destructive. She also very much doubted that Kate Mayhew would be included in that exchange!
She gave a half smile. ‘I already know about parents and siblings from my research. As for past lovers—wouldn’t that be a little boring for you, considering I don’t have any?’
He gave her an impatient glare. ‘Contrary to what you may think, I don’t have that many either!’
Abby shook her head. ‘This isn’t very helpful, is it? Perhaps I should just leave?’
Max stopped his pacing to stare down at her frustratedly. ‘Is that what you want to do?’
Yes! No! She didn’t know!
If she left she wasn’t sure when, or if, she would see Max again.
Max seemed to have the same doubts, taking a step towards her. ‘Abby, I don’t want to fight with you,’ he groaned.
She swallowed hard. ‘No…’
She had no defences when he took her in his arms—but then she didn’t really want any. Held in Max’s arms, being kissed by him, able to feel his response to her, she had no doubts whatsoever…
Doubts came later, much later, when she woke in the darkness of Max’s bedroom early the next morning, her body still aching pleasurably from the intensity of their lovemaking.
She had been lost from that first kiss, their responses to each other wild and abandoned.
Too much so?
As if both of them had known they were trying to hold on to something so fragile it might break when exposed to the outside world?
There had certainly been no words of love from either of them. Just those intense hours of lovemaking, and Max cradling her in his arms as they both drifted off to sleep.
Max was still sleeping, she realised as she turned on the pillow to look at him. The early-morning light showed his face looking younger and less strained, with the darkness of his hair falling endearingly over his forehead.
God, how she loved him!
Enough to know that she had to be the one to leave this time. That if she stayed she would only do or say something she might regret—that she would regret. If Max wanted to take this slowly, to let time and familiarity decide whether or not they had a future together, then that was what she would have to do.
She slid silently out of bed, gathering up her clothes from where they had been thrown the night before and going into the adjoining bathroom.
Max was still asleep when she came back from taking her shower. She gave him one last wistful look before letting herself out of the apartment.
She was too restless to go back to her own apartment, and went to her office instead. There was something she needed to do before she saw Max again…
If the security man found her early arrival strange, he didn’t say so, greeting her cheerfully enough as he let her into the building. One advantage of being on a weekly TV show!
The day before, after Gary Holmes’s insinuations, she had impulsively got a copy of Max’s show from two years ago from the archives, and then decided she didn’t want to look at it.
Because it might confirm what Gary had said?
Maybe, but this morning, since she was alone in the building, apart from security, with no danger of being interrupted—especially by the gloatingly sarcastic Gary!—it seemed like the ideal time for her to sit and watch it.
As she had known it would be, it was distressing viewing. Rory Mayhew’s despair was so utter that Abby’s heart ached for him.
Those emotions dominated her first two viewings of the recording, but the third time she began to concentrate on other aspects of it—on Max’s responses to the other man’s rapidly escalating incoherency as Rory Mayhew seemed the worse for drink.
Max had obviously tried to direct the conversation under great provocation, tried to keep things under control. But when Rory Mayhew had produced an old service revolver that looked as if it might have seen use in the Second World War and started waving it about erratically, it had become obvious that the other man was beyond reasoning with.
His voice slurred from the alcohol he had consumed before appearing on the show, Rory Mayhew had begun to rant and rave about the things he was being accused of, the mistakes he had made, how they had cost him his career, the respect of his colleagues and his friends, and how he feared he was about to lose his wife and children too.
But never once during that tirade had Rory Mayhew accused Max of being involved in his downfall.
Gary’s insinuations, she was sure, were exactly that—and, moreover, they had been made with the deliberate intent of driving a wedge between herself and Max.
She shouldn’t have waited. She should have watched this recording yesterday, she berated herself impatiently. It didn’t take away her uncertainties concerning the woman Kate, of course, but it did add to her impression that she and Kate Mayhew were not one and the same woman.
Damn it, she had been unfair to Max last night, and now she had left this morning without any word of farewell. What on earth was he going to think of her?
It was only nine-thirty now, she realized, after a glance at her wristwatch. Other people were starting to arrive in their offices. She could still go back to Max’s apartment—maybe with coffee and Danish for their breakfast?
One thing she did know. She couldn’t simply leave things like this between them!
The sun was shining as she walked back to Max’s apartment. The birds were singing, the coffee and Danish she carried smelled delicious, and the prospect of being with Max again made her smile at the p
eople she passed.
But the colour drained from her face as she turned the corner and saw Max standing outside on the pavement, talking to a woman just about to get into a car parked there. Because the woman, Abby knew without a doubt, was Kate Mayhew!
She easily recognised the other woman from the photographs she had seen of her, and her breath caught in a gasp of protest as she watched the other woman reach up and hug Max before getting into her car and driving away. Max’s smile was wistful as he watched her leave.
Abby didn’t even hesitate. She dropped the coffee and Danish into a bin before turning and walking hurriedly away, the tears falling hotly down her cheeks. There were no doubts left in her mind now, absolutely none, that the woman Kate was indeed Kate Mayhew. And, from the touching scene she had just witnessed, the other woman was still well and truly in his life.
‘Why are you here, Max?’ she prompted dully, her emotions still numbed by the scene she had unwittingly witnessed that morning.
After her abrupt departure she had been expecting a telephone call from him all day—had been prepared to deal with that. What she hadn’t been prepared for was for him to actually come to her apartment this evening!
But she should have been, she realised heavily; Max had no idea she had seen him and Kate together this morning!
He looked at her frowningly. ‘I was a little surprised to wake up this morning and find you gone…’
He would have been even more surprised if she had still been there when the lovely Kate had paid him a visit!
She shrugged, standing across the room from him, her shaking hands thrust into the back pockets of her denims. ‘I was under the impression that was the way it was done.’
He gave a pained frown. ‘I’ve apologised for my behaviour yesterday morning—’
‘And your apology was accepted.’ She nodded abruptly.
‘But—’ Max broke off whatever he had been about to say as his mobile began to ring, his expression one of irritation as he took it out of his pocket to check the number of the caller. ‘If you’ll excuse me—I have to take this,’ he muttered, before moving into her kitchen.
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