“Max, what’s wrong?”
He stepped closer. “What did Scott say to you?”
The quick anxiety she’d felt leaked out like air from a punctured tire.
A moment ago, she hadn’t known what to make of the fierce edge in his expression. Now, her own tension fading, she realized that that edge had a decidedly self-protective feel about it. He obviously had some idea of what his partner had told her. He just didn’t know how she’d taken it.
“More than he’d first intended, I think. But everything’s okay.” She offered the assurance with a soft smile. “It would have been nice if he’d checked his email before he’d come here,” she conceded. “That way he’d have known I’m working with you and not the company. But if he hadn’t come by, I wouldn’t have known about Uncle Harry’s bribe.”
With his brow furrowing at her logic, she tipped her head, hoping it was just his uncertainty about what she’d been told holding him back from her. She couldn’t believe how badly she’d missed him.
“I take it he told you why Hunt set you up with him?”
“He did.”
“Did he tell you I was out to collect on that bribe?”
“Not in so many words. But he did make it sound as if that was why you’d offered to be my partner.”
“And?”
She shrugged. “He doesn’t know you as well as he believes he does.”
It took a moment, but the tightness in his jaw seemed to change quality. As if debating whether or not he wanted to touch her, or maybe, if he should, he finally lifted his hand to her cheek.
“Just so you know, I didn’t have any ulterior motives with you, Tommi. You do know that. Right?”
He was talking about more than the document they’d signed. There was no doubt of that in her mind as his eyes held hers. Though something about his use of the past tense bothered her, she didn’t believe for an instant that he’d tried to maneuver his way into her bed. It seemed he needed to be sure she understood that.
Heat gathered where his fingers skimmed her cheek; partly from his gentle caress, partly from the memory of how she’d all but begged him not to let her go. “Of course I do. I’ve never thought otherwise.”
Her head unconsciously turned to his touch. The movement was barely perceptible, but it caused something to shift in the tense lines of his face.
As if memorizing the feel of her skin, he let his fingers drift to her jaw. “That’s good to know,” he murmured, and let his hand fall.
“So,” he continued, taking a step back to push his hands into the front pockets of his slacks. “What are you going to do about your uncle?”
Confused by his touch, more than a little uneasy with the deliberate distance he’d created, she focused on the concern in his voice.
“Mom will take care of Uncle Harry. She was pretty upset when we told her what was going on.”
“We?”
“Bobbie and I. We think he set her up, too. I’d called her after Scott left,” she explained, because he clearly wanted details. “She thought we needed to bring Mom in on it, since she’s the only one who really knows how to deal with him.”
“You called your mother?”
“Actually, she came here. She was with my oldest sister when Bobbie called her, so one call led to another and pretty soon my whole family was out there at the wine bar.”
Nothing in the uneasy way she watched him gave Max a clue about how that little scenario had played out. The disquiet he knew was there because of him overshadowed the reactions that would have otherwise been easy for him to read. He wanted badly to reach for her again, to make that disquiet go away. But that relief would only be temporary for both of them, and he had no business thinking about anything other than what he’d come there to resolve.
His first intention after reading Scott’s note had been to make sure she hadn’t believed he was out to use her in any way. Her comment about her family had led straight to the next concern on his list.
He didn’t know if it was because the chef’s jacket she wore had become more snug since he’d last seen her wearing one, or because he was intimately familiar with the betraying curve of her belly. But he couldn’t look at her now and not be conscious of the baby she carried.
For a few unguarded moments, in the heat of their love-making, he’d almost wished that child was his.
“Your family was all here,” he prefaced, banishing the unwanted memory. “Did you tell them?”
She didn’t have to ask what he meant. “I did.”
“How did they take the news?”
“With varying degrees of acceptance. But it’s going to be okay,” she allowed, a hint of a smile surfacing. “Bobbie’s excited and Mom’s getting that way. And you were right. I do feel better now that I’ve told them.”
“What about your staff?”
“They know, too,” she continued. “I told them in our meeting yesterday when I explained our initial plans to expand. They were wonderful about everything. It was a little awkward at first, because they know I wasn’t going out with anyone. But I just told them what I told my family…that the father is gone.” Her eyes sought his as her voice dropped. “You’re the only one who knows about him. Okay?”
She was asking that he protect what she’d shared with no one else.
Honoring that confidence was the very least he could do.
“Of course.”
“Thank you,” she said quietly, and tried for another smile.
Had she been anyone else, Max knew he would have let his absence and his silence of the past few days speak for itself. When it came to personal relationships, he’d learned to never give a woman reason to expect anything more from him than what was mutually beneficial at the time. He always made it clear from the start that he had no expectations where she was concerned. More important, he never mixed business with sex.
Despite the fact that he’d broken every one of those rules with the woman cautiously watching him, he hadn’t been able to just walk away. He’d done what he could for her business. But he’d wanted to know she would be okay with her family. Knowing that they and her staff now knew about her baby and would be there for them, he could let that concern go.
As for how she’d taken what Harry Hunt had done, he couldn’t help being impressed by the way her family had banded together for her. He wasn’t familiar with that kind of backing, but it seemed to be the very sort of support she needed.
She had family. She had friends. She and her child would be fine.
“Listen,” he said, knowing it was time to let go of it all. “I’m moving to New York to set up a base for my own holding company. Scott doesn’t know it yet, but we’re splitting up the partnership. The break has been a long time coming,” he conceded, not wanting her to think she was responsible for that. Not totally, anyway.
“I’ll be in Seattle on and off for a while, but just to take care of splitting up the operation.” He hadn’t had time to work through that quagmire. He just knew he’d make it happen. “Since our agreement is separate from all of that, if you have any problems with my accountant or J.T.’s assistant, call me on my cell and I’ll make sure Margie sees it’s taken care of.”
She’d thought she was prepared. She’d thought that having told herself he might never be able to feel about her the way she did about him would have somehow equipped her for what she was hearing now.
She’d been wrong. Because of all he’d done for her, because of how he’d been there for her, hope had loomed too large for the warnings to have provided any protection at all.
Scott had said something about Max’s personal portfolio. Remembering that, she didn’t know which hurt the most just then; that Max was done with her now that she’d been acquired, or that he was staffing her out.
Desperate to hide that hurt, she turned away.
She hadn’t turned fast enough.
“Tommi, I’m sorry.” Max caught her by the arm, then swore under his breath when she pulled
back and stepped from his reach. “I never intended for things to go as far as they did between us. And I never said I’d be around after we signed our—”
“Max, don’t. Please.” Taking another step back, she held up her hand as if to physically halt the words. She didn’t need to have him tell her he’d never intended to get involved with her the way he had. She especially didn’t need to hear him say that what had been so emotionally significant to her had been a mistake. What she did need was to keep them both from saying anything they would have to regret. She might be little more to him than a small investment he wouldn’t personally oversee, but he was still a partner in her business.
“I’m not asking anything of you,” she defended. “So please don’t make it sound as if I am. I don’t expect anything from you other than what’s in our agreement.” It was painfully clear he didn’t want her thinking he’d be there for her in any way other than financially. She didn’t need him to verbalize that, either. “We have a silent partnership,” she reminded him, not feeling anywhere near as strong as she hoped she sounded. “So what happened between us is something we’ll just stay silent about.”
Feeling every bit as defensive as he now looked, she watched him take a shoulder-raising breath and shove his fingers through his hair. She didn’t know if he was relieved by her solution or frustrated by it. As he let his hand fall, all she knew for certain was that whatever internal chaos he was dealing with was hardly due entirely to her.
“I’m sorry about what’s going on with you and your partner, Max.” Her defenses where he was concerned had finally shown up, but she knew what it was to have certain fundamentals in her life change whether she liked the idea or not. With his partnership somehow forced into breaking up, he could well be feeling that upheaval. Especially since he had chosen to add the pressure of opening a new office on top of it all.
She had the feeling, though, that he welcomed what would have only compounded her stress.
“But mostly,” she added, “I’m sorry you haven’t found whatever it is you’re looking for. Or that you haven’t run far enough away from whatever it is you’re trying to escape.”
His dark eyebrows darted into a single slash. “What are you talking about?”
“That thing that drives you,” she said quietly. For her, it had always been the need for security. Having grown up as he had, for all she knew, that could be what drove him, too. “I don’t know if you push yourself so hard with work because you’re looking for something, or running away from it. Whichever it is, I suspect it won’t let you stay still long enough to enjoy whatever it is you have at the moment.” The thrill of the acquisition undoubtedly provided its own sort of rush. She just had a hard time believing he found any contentment in it. “For your sake, I hope you figure it out.”
He was cheating himself of so much. Acutely conscious of his withdrawal from her as he picked up his coat, she was as certain of that as she was the knot of hurt living just below her heart.
“Don’t worry about me, Tommi. I’m fine with what I do.”
There was nothing for him to figure out. Max felt utterly convinced of that as he pulled on his overcoat. He had the life he wanted. Heaven knew he’d worked hard enough to attain it. Even the breakup of his partnership didn’t threaten him the way she did. He’d seen companies split and parcel out into bigger and better operations. He’d steered some of those clients on to even more lucrative paths himself. But she’d been poking at the foundations of the carefully constructed life he’d so deliberately built pretty much since he’d met her.
“I have to go.” He hated the way she’d pulled from him before. Certain she’d only do it again, knowing he’d lost any right he had to touch her, he moved to the back door so she wouldn’t have to lock the front behind him. “You take care of yourself.”
Tightening her grip on her arms, she gave a little nod. “You, too.”
He turned then, walking away from the wounded look in her eyes and the brave little smile she’d clearly hoped would mask it. His defenses locked and loaded, he wouldn’t let himself consider the odd little void opening in his chest. He just let himself out, drove off and waited for the sense of reprieve he’d fully expected to feel.
The relief didn’t come that day, though.
Or the next.
Still, his sense of self-preservation insisted that it would come. He just needed to get to New York to look at those offices, and sign the notice of intent he’d had his attorney draw up about the split Scott had to know was coming. Once he was buried in work, he was sure the void would disappear.
Christmas Eve had once been Tommi’s favorite time of year. That had been when her family had gone to services together, then returned home for a festive supper before she and her sisters would each open one gift—which, suspiciously, always turned out to be pajamas. Their parents and, later, her mom, had saved the main opening of presents for Christmas morning. But the eve had always seemed like a big present in itself; the official beginning of what all the preparation had been about.
It was just now six o’clock, but she could have already joined Bobbie and her almost-new family for whatever traditions they would create that evening. Or gone to her mom’s where her other sisters would be helping with preparations for Christmas dinner.
Instead, hating that she felt so empty when she had so much to be grateful for, Tommi had made a mental leap past Christmas altogether and focused on Bobbie’s wedding the day after. On the cake, anyway. She missed the man she’d so carelessly fallen in love with far too much to think about the more romantic aspects of the event. Missed him, wished she’d never met him, and felt hugely grateful to him for the funding and ideas for her business that she’d never have considered on her own.
The bistro was closed. It had been all day. And all day, she had been mixing and baking layers of carrot, chocolate and orange gateau. The combination would have sent food critics into a culinary tailspin, but it perfectly suited her sister’s sometimes indecisive, always eclectic tastes.
With the layers baked and in the freezer because they were easier to frost frozen, she was working on the roughly two hundred royal icing snowflakes that would cascade down tiers of buttercream when her cell phone chimed.
Thinking it would be her mom checking to see if she’d made enough progress to change her mind about coming over, she wiped her fingers, dug beneath her apron and pulled her cell phone from the pocket of her gray sweat-pants. The beauty of having the day off and working alone was that she could work in comfort. She hadn’t even bothered with makeup.
“Since I had to call your cell, I take it you’re not home.”
At the sound of Max’s voice, her pulse gave an unhealthy jerk. “I’m in the bistro.”
He hesitated. “The bistro is closed.”
“How do you know that?”
“What are you doing there?” he asked, ignoring the question. “When you didn’t answer your home phone, I figured you were out doing whatever it is people do the night before Christmas.”
He knew the bistro was closed. There was only one way he could know that for certain.
With her phone to her ear, she pulled off her apron and walked into the dark dining area, letting the door swing closed behind her. Without illumination from the kitchen, the only light in the interior came from the glow of tiny white lights outlining the front and side windows and the rows of little trees in the planters below them.
“I’m working on my sister’s wedding cake,” she said, moving between the pale shapes of the cloth-draped tables. “She’s getting married the day after tomorrow.” She looked out the front window. Icy rain blew at an angle through the halos of the streetlamps as she scanned the cars parked along the curbs.
His black Mercedes coupe was there. But he wasn’t in it. “Where are you?” she asked.
She couldn’t help the hesitation in her tone. Or the hope she didn’t want to feel. Knowing his penchant for working through weekends and evenings, and having e
ncountered his ambivalence about the holidays, it was entirely probable that he was there on business.
After the walls he’d thrown up before he’d walked out six days and roughly three hours ago, not that she’d kept track, she just couldn’t imagine what he wanted that couldn’t have been accomplished by messenger or telephone.
“Max?” she asked.
“I’m here. I’m coming around back.”
She lifted the Closed shade to see him walking toward the bistro, his dark hair whipping in the wind, his cell phone to his ear.
He must have been in the entryway to her apartment building in the middle of the block. Noticing the movement of the shade, he slowed his pace. A heartbeat later, she saw him lower his phone just before her connection went dead.
Dropping her own phone back into her pocket, she had the door open by the time he reached it to let him in from the cold.
The freezing air came in with him, making her shiver before she locked out the chill and turned to where he’d stopped six feet away. In the silvery illumination of the lights twinkling through the window, she watched him push his fingers through the dampness glinting in his hair. With his dark parka open in seeming defiance of the weather, he looked very large, very commanding and, even in that shadowy light, almost as tense as she suddenly felt.
“I won’t keep you,” he promised. “Since you have family, I figured I’d have a better chance finding you home tonight than I would tomorrow. I just wanted to give you this.”
From his jacket’s inner pocket, he withdrew what looked like rolled paper tied with a shiny ribbon.
It was too dark to see what it was where they stood. Taking what he’d handed her, she moved to the wine bar and flipped the switch that illuminated the red pendants and white spots over its gleaming granite surface. In that soft light, she slipped off the thin silver ribbon and uncurled two sheets of paper.
One was a photocopy of a real estate offer and acceptance. The other, a copy of a memo to someone named Alissa Arnold, Esq.
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