by DB Michaels
How ironic it was that crimes could be committed in prison with much more impunity than if they’d been executed on the street. Did Maxim know this and simply look the other way? How disappointed she’d be in him if it were true. She expected more of him, needed more of him than the tolerant dismissive attitude she’d heard at the morning meeting.
“Hey, Emma,” Riley called her as soon as she got home. “How are you holding up?”
“All right,” she said, swallowing a yawn. “Thanks for your help with Maxim yesterday.”
“Maxim?”
She could hear the teasing in her friend’s voice. “Yes. That’s his first name.” She took off her jacket but was too tired to change out of her work clothes.
“I know that.” Riley’s voice sobered. “Is he doing okay? Admin is worried to death, afraid he’ll blame us for not doing enough. That poor old man.”
“I don’t think he blames you guys.” Emma sat on her bed and kicked off her shoes. “You were great with him.”
“Until he threw me out. You’re right. The man can be pretty nasty.”
“He was stressed out, Ri.” Emma slid off her hair clip and lay back on the bed. “He’s actually not that bad.”
“Not bad, huh? Interesting. Anything you want to tell me?”
“Don’t even start. He’s my boss.” Emma checked the clock. Her eyes felt like lead. Four p.m. A quick nap would be great. “Sorry, Ri. I’m about to crash right now.”
“Just make sure he’s single.”
“He is, but you’re reading too much into it.” Emma stretched and yawned again.
“If you say so. We can talk later. Get some sleep.”
A loud buzzing sound shook Emma awake hours later. She tossed a pillow over her head and buried herself underneath the covers. She was so not going to get that. It was the middle of the night; whoever wanted her could come back in the morning. She pulled another pillow over her head. The buzzing became banging. Loud banging. Oh, for heaven’s sake. Whoever it was better have a good reason for jolting her out of her precious sleep. Emma threw back the covers and stumbled out of bed. Her eyes still felt heavy. Her foot slipped. Drat. Had that magazine been on the floor last night? The banging escalated.
“Okay. I’m coming.” She lurched to the door and flung it open, blinking at the sunlight flooding her vision. “Oh, my God. It’s so bright.”
“It usually is in the afternoon,” a familiar voice said.
Emma snapped her eyes open. No, it couldn’t be. Yes, it certainly was, her frantic brain concluded. For standing in front of her was none other than Maxim Chambers, dressed casually in jeans and a light-blue T-shirt. She wasn’t sure which she was more surprised by: his appearance at her doorstep or his attire. She’d never seen him dressed in anything but elegant custom-made suits. “Hi,” she croaked out.
“Hello,” he said, standing stiff and upright.
“What are you doing here?” Emma brushed the hair back from her face. God, she must have looked a mess. And was that a wet saliva stain trailing down her left cheek? She swiped it away and rubbed her eyes again.
“May I come in?” Maxim asked.
“Sure.” He dwarfed her studio the moment he crossed the threshold. “Uh, sorry. I just woke up. Do you mind if I?” She pointed to the bathroom. Great, Emma. Very eloquent there. “Make yourself at home.” She rushed to the bathroom and slammed the door closed.
One look in the mirror and she almost fell again. Her hair was a complete rat’s nest, and her shirt and pants hung on her body like old unwashed laundry. She stripped off the clothes and jumped in the shower. It took only five minutes but she felt a hundred times better by the time she emerged. But darn, she didn’t have a change of clothes and couldn’t imagine getting back into the outfit she’d slept in. The old faded blue robe hanging on the back of the door would have to do. She tied it securely at the waist and didn’t bother drying her hair.
Why was Maxim here? Whatever the reason, she was sure it involved the prison and… Oh my God. Did it have something to do with Sam? Had he discovered that Sam was her brother? That would’ve been her worst nightmare. Second only to having pictures of Sam around the house that Maxim could easily recognize.
Emma made a swift mental inventory of her studio and breathed a sigh of relief. None of Sam’s pictures were up yet. She’d moved recently from LA to Corona right after residency and hadn’t had a chance to hang them. The only thing she managed to tape up was a big drawing Sam had sketched of his favorite blackbird. Which was nondescript and common, nothing to identify him by.
“I’m back,” she said as she opened the door.
Maxim stood with his back to her, studying the blackbird picture with some attention. She quickly went over and examined it. No, nothing incriminating there. Only a simple “To Emma, with Love” at the top of the drawing. Good, Sam hadn’t even signed his name.
“It’s a beautiful picture,” Maxim said in that grave way of his, not looking up from the drawing.
“Yes, my brother gave it to me,” she said. “He loves all birds, but the blackbird is his favorite.”
“He’s very talented.”
“Thanks. You know, we have a blackbird at the prison.” Emma flipped her wet hair back. “Have you seen him by any chance?”
“No. Can’t say that I have.” Maxim finally looked up. His eyes widened and he stared at her for several long seconds, not saying anything before clearing his throat and turning away.
“Sorry, I was in a hurry.”
What the heck was wrong with the man? The robe covered her from head to toe but he was acting as if she were half-naked or something. Men. Emma groaned to herself as she grabbed some clothes from the closet and darted back to the bathroom to change. If she hurried, she’d have time for some breakfast on the way to the prison. Wait. Emma screeched to a halt. Did Maxim say it was already afternoon? Yikes! She snatched up her watch from the counter. Two thirty. She’d slept half the day away.
Emma dashed back to the living room. “I overslept,” she said, picking up her keys from the kitchen counter. “I have to go. I’m so late. Evil Knievel is going to kill me.”
“Evil Knievel?” Maxim’s mouth twitched.
“Yes, Evil Knievel Kaye.” Emma slid on her shoes. “You know how she is.”
“I do.”
“Then you know why I have to run,” Emma said, a little distracted by the potential smile playing on his face. “I’ll see you at work?”
“No, don’t go.” Maxim raised his hand. “I already called and told them you’re taking the day off.”
“What? You can’t do that. What if they need me?”
“It’s past two o’clock. The clinics are almost closed. And all the doctors were there today.”
“How do you know?”
“I was there. When you didn’t show, we called your cell but nobody answered.” He gave her an accusing look. “We were worried. By policy, if an employee doesn’t show up at work, we’re supposed to locate them to make sure they’re okay.”
“That’s why you’re here?” Emma blinked a couple of times. “You could have sent someone else. Aren’t you busy with stuff?”
“I wanted to come.” He gazed down at her, a peculiar look in his eyes. “To thank you for your help with my father. You were there for hours. I really appreciate it.”
“You’re welcome. Sorry I couldn’t do more.” Did he actually show up at work today? It was too soon. He definitely should’ve taken more time off. “How are you doing?”
“Hanging in there. I have to collect his things from the nursing home so I should probably head off.” He turned to go but suddenly swung around. “Before I forget, what did you want to tell me that day in the car?”
“Oh, that.” Emma sighed. Should she trouble him about Cavendish now when his father had just died? “Maybe this isn’t the right time.”
“Why?” he said in that abrupt tone of his.
Her stomach let out a loud growl all of a sudden. �
��Sorry, I haven’t eaten yet.”
Maxim frowned. “Come on. Let’s get you some food. You can tell me what’s going on over lunch.”
“You’re sure they’re okay about me not coming in today?”
“Yes. Positive.”
“What about the nursing home? Weren’t you planning to go there?”
“It can wait. If it’s about my prison, I’d rather hear it now.”
“Okay, then. Lunch sounds great.” In every way. How nice to be able to spend some extra time with him.
Chapter 17
Whatever time they had together, Maxim had to make it short. He hadn’t planned for the lunch. No. It was supposed to be a swift in and out. Make sure she was okay, thank her for her help with his father, and then deal with whatever she had wanted to talk about when she’d called him in the emergency room. So much for his good intentions. When her stomach had grumbled and she’d looked near famished, how could he not suggest lunch? He wasn’t going to have her starve, not on his watch. She was thin enough already.
And just because she was beautiful and generous to a fault, that didn’t really concern him, did it? The intense connection he’d felt with her at the hospital had been a product of their environment. Nothing personal. He’d been overwhelmed with grief, kind of shamefully so. He’d even imagined her almost kissing him when she’d caressed his cheek. Kiss him? Who was he kidding? She’d been showing him sympathy, nothing else. Maxim shook his head. Hopefully, she’d forget about the whole episode.
For God’s sake, Emma was his employee. He had no business feeling anything for her. Least of all the consuming worry that had clawed at him when she’d been a no-show at work this morning. Had she fallen asleep at the wheels the day before? Panic had gripped him, thinking she was lying hurt somewhere. Of course he had to come himself to make sure she was okay. He was a responsible employer, nothing more. And his world was filled with bitterness and vengeance, a dark place he had no wish to drag her to. She was everything good in the world and deserved to be surrounded by sunshine and happiness.
If he’d dreamt about her last night, it was only a dream, nothing substantial. And this morning with that old robe on, surely it was only his recent lack of sleep that had him thinking it was the sexiest garment ever. That had him imagining sliding it off her, exposing her smooth, silky skin. She’d smelled like fresh clean soap and shampoo. When had soap ever turned him on? Never. Maxim’s point exactly. Lack of sleep was addling his mind.
Thank goodness she’d changed quickly. But why the heck was she wearing those tight jeans and that close-fitting purple top? Where were her plain slacks and oversized dress shirts? Damn. He had to make it short, had to ignore the deep sense of contentment that seeped through him as she smiled at him from across the table at the restaurant.
“So, what’s good here?” she asked, her stomach making another growl.
“Everything if you’re hungry. What do you like?”
“Anything with pasta or seafood, but no fish.”
“Okay, their angel hair shrimp scampi is really good. And also their seafood jambalaya.” He perused the menu. “Spaghetti with meatballs is another good one.”
“All right, I’ll take them.”
“Which one?”
“All three,” she said, her gaze direct as usual. “You don’t mind, do you? We can split the bill.”
“No.” He’d never heard anything so distasteful. Of course he’d pay. “I’ll pay. It’s just…you’re sure you can eat all that food?”
“Trust me.” She gave him a lopsided smile. “When I’m hungry, I can eat the whole house down.”
And she meant it. Fascinating. He’d never seen anyone eat that much. She’d started with the scampi and cleaned the plate within ten minutes. Next she attacked the spaghetti with gusto, leaving only a few meatballs behind, and then the jambalaya had slowly but surely disappeared over the next hour.
“Where do you put all of it?” Maxim asked, still not quite believing his eyes.
“Fast metabolism,” she said. “Is there any dessert?”
Maxim laughed and felt the unused facial muscles work for the first time in what felt like forever.
“Hey, you laughed,” Emma said, her emerald eyes shining at him. “You should do it more often.”
Damn. Those eyes were going to kill him. And what the hell had happened to keeping it short? Fool that he was, he’d been too distracted by her eating.
“What’s wrong?” Her worried voice came across the table.
“Nothing,” he said quickly.
“I’m such a pig, aren’t I?” She screwed up her pert nose and curved her lips in a self-conscious smile.
“I don’t mind,” he said. And immediately winced. “I mean, you’re not a pig.”
“Gee, thanks.”
He looked up, expecting censure. Her eyes were instead warm with humor. A lightness seeped into his soul. “Got me, didn’t you?”
“Two laughs in a row.” Her eyes twinkled. “You should do it more often. It makes you look friendlier. Less intimidating, less…”
“Like a barbarian?”
She looked down and started folding her napkin. “Sorry. I did say that, didn’t I?”
“What? It’s true. I’m a big brute.”
“Maybe sometimes.” She smiled, abandoning the napkin. “But not all the time.”
Damn if that smile didn’t do queer things to his insides. And those freckles. Maxim shifted in his seat. “So what’s this thing with work you want to talk about?”
Emma fiddled with her pendant. “Can I tell you what happened the other day?” she finally asked, her beautiful eyes filled with anxiety.
“Sure.” What the hell was making her nervous? He wanted nothing more than to chase away her fears.
After she was done with her story, however, those eyes looked even more troubled than before. “So what do you think?” she asked in a small voice.
“Someone has to be responsible for that beating.” Damn his officers. They should have done more. “I’ll look into it and make sure Custody monitors the dorms better.”
“You’d do that?” There was a weird note of wonder in her voice.
“Of course. Rules are made for a reason. No cigarettes means no cigarettes.”
“Oh. You don’t know how happy I am to hear that.” She grabbed his hand and squeezed with her tiny fingers. “I thought you might blow over it. Not even care.”
“Of course I care. It’s my prison,” he said, trying hard to keep his hand still. She was pure danger. Distracting him with those eyes, killing him with that smile, and now torturing him with her touch. Her hand was soft and smooth, perfectly nestled in his palm. As if it belonged there. What the hell? Maxim yanked his hand back, his heart racing. Short. Damn it. He had to keep it short. His sanity depended on it. He shook his head in disgust and pushed his chair back.
“Is something wrong?”
“No.” Did the woman have to be so observant? “I have to go to the nursing home.”
“You want me to come with you?” she asked.
No, of course not. “Sure. If you want to.” He bit back a groan. Those eyes had bewitched him somehow.
They drove to the nursing home, her long, beautiful black hair whipping in the wind between them. It was weird but the deep grief and ache of his loss seemed to ease each minute in her company. She helped him gather his father’s belongings: a stack of old books, an antique watch, some clothes, and a wedding photograph. She was silent during most of it, not saying much.
“When’s the funeral?” she asked as they walked back to the car.
“Saturday at noon.”
They got in the car and finally it was time to drive her home. Maxim should have been happy about it but why the hell did he feel all wrong inside? His sanity depended on them separating but his thick mind didn’t seem to comprehend. “Thanks for going over there with me.”
“No problem. Glad I could help.” She gazed up at the sky for a second and
then suddenly shrieked. “Wait. What’s the date? It’s the twenty-fourth, right? Oh my God, I have to run. I’ve got to be somewhere.”
“What? A hot date?” Not that he cared one way or the other. Still, the thought of her on a date curdled his stomach somehow.
“Yeah.” Her eyes twinkled. “You can say that. Although he’s not really hot. He’s actually pretty cold.”
“Cold?”
“Yeah, his name is Holmes.”
“Too much information.” He gripped the steering wheel. “Don’t worry. I’ll get you home as fast as I can.”
“He’s a comet.” She chuckled, her eyes now dancing. “We can see him together if you like.”
“A comet? You mean like in the sky?” Maxim felt foolish and lighthearted all at once.
“Yes. I heard he had an outburst a few days ago. And that starting today we can view him with the naked eye.” Her emerald eyes shone with excitement. “I have to see him. I promised to send my brother some pictures. He’ll be so excited.”
“Okay, then.” Why not? It was already past evening time. The day was almost over. He could handle another couple of hours in her company. As long as he had his defenses up, it couldn’t be that bad. “Let’s find Holmes. Where should we go?”
“Well, I was going to go to Skyline Drive near my studio. It’s pretty high up, but traffic is a beast heading that way right now.” Emma peered left and then right, shading her eyes with one hand. “We have to find some place high to climb. Away from the city lights. They’re too distracting.”
“I know of a place,” he said, feeling it was perfect. “It’s not far from here. Are you game?”
“Sure.” Emma settled back in her seat and looked up at the darkening sky. A few minutes of silence ensued as he headed the car back onto the road. “What made you go into corrections?” she asked as he entered the freeway.
“After my parents were killed, I wanted to go into law enforcement.” He’d been willing to try anything to catch those bastards. “Corrections was the fastest way. The training at the academy is only sixteen weeks long.”