by Bonnie Pega
When Max woke up it was light, and based on the rumbling of his stomach, probably after eight.
Caitlin still slept, her head cradled on his shoulder. He smiled. So it hadn’t been just one more dream. It had really happened. He tightened his arms around her and she stirred, murmured incoherent words, and pressed her face into Max’s chest. Her warm breath stirred the hair there, and Max felt a sudden tightening in his body. All he had to do was think about her to want her again. He didn’t think he’d ever get enough of her.
Last night had been so much more than he’d ever expected. The first time they’d made love, Caitlin’s response had been shyly passionate. But the second time Max would carry engraved in his memory forever. Caitlin had been Eve, Delilah, Helen—a woman secure in her own femininity. A temptress, a siren.
There had been a third time, too, in the middle of the night, when both were warm and hazy from sleep. Caitlin had cuddled in his arms as if she belonged there. And she did. She might not know it yet, he mused as he brushed her hair from her face, but he would never let her go.
Caitlin opened her eyes to an empty bed, but she could hear the muted sounds of Max whistling in the kitchen downstairs. She smiled. Max’s off-key tune was the prettiest music she’d ever heard.
She sat up, looping her arms around her knees, feeling some unfamiliar aches as she did. They were good aches, however, reminders of a remarkable night. And a remarkable man. There were some vague stirrings of disquiet as well, but she resolutely pushed them away. There would be time enough to deal with reality. But not now. Not yet. She wanted to carry this dream further.
The faint scent of food wafted up from the stairs, and her stomach growled in response. Swinging her feet to the floor, she glanced around for something to wear. The clothes that had been dropped heedlessly to the floor in last night’s passion had been picked up and folded into tidy stacks on Max’s dresser. Caitlin sighed and shook her head. Such neatness. She’d have to do something about that.
She reached out for her sweater, then changed her mind and grabbed Max’s shirt instead. She had to roll the sleeves up several times, but it hung to mid-thigh, offering adequate cover.
Feeling shy, she paused in the kitchen doorway to watch Max as he puttered around. She was sure he would look sexier in tight jeans and a sweater than in the chino trousers and button-front shirt he wore. But he was already gorgeous. One couldn’t expect perfect too.
Max’s face lit up when he saw her, and he covered the distance between them in two strides. “Good morning, sweet Caitie,” he said just before pulling her to him for a thorough kiss.
After she had caught her breath, she said, “Good morning to you, too, sweet Maxy.”
“Sweet Maxy?”
“Sweet Caitie?”
“Well, you are sweet.” He smiled down into her eyes, noticing how the gold flecks sparkled and shined. “I was going to bring you breakfast in bed. But since you’re here, why don’t you sit down and let me serve you?” He pulled out a chair and offered it with a flourish of his hand.
With all the grace and dignity of royalty, Caitlin took the proffered seat, arranging the shirttail daintily around her thighs. Did she realize, Max wondered, just how provocative she looked wearing his shirt? It was like a brand—a brand that marked her irrevocably as his.
He set two plates on the table—one with fried eggs, sausage links, and buttered toast, and one without the sausage—and two large glasses of orange juice and joined Caitlin at the table. “Dig in,” he said just before biting into his toast.
Caitlin picked up her fork and sliced off a tiny bit of egg. She hadn’t had a real one in years, but she figured she could manage. After all, there wasn’t enough cholesterol in it to kill her. As soon as she tasted it, however, she knew she couldn’t eat it.
Max had polished off his toast and half of his sausage before he noticed that Caitlin hadn’t touched her food. He laid down his fork. “Is something wrong?” he asked in concern.
“Um, no, well, not really. Max, what did you fry the eggs in?”
“A frying pan.”
“I know that, but you didn’t use the grease from the sausage, did you?”
“Yeah. Oh.” Max paused as realization hit him. “I’m sorry, Caitie. I’ll fix you something else. Cereal? More toast?”
Caitlin had already seen the boxes of cereal on the kitchen counter. Not one contained less than sixty percent sugar. She picked up a piece of toast, but immediately put it down when she saw the melted butter on it.
“It’s okay, Max. Really. I’ll just have juice.” She raised her glass and took a sip, then put that down too. It was that frozen reconsituted stuff with sugar and corn syrup and artificial flavors added. “I’m not that hungry in the mornings,” she said.
“Okay.” Max eyed her sharply, then leaned back in his chair. “So what’s really the matter?”
Caitlin winced. Fixing her breakfast was such a nice gesture. How could she tell him she couldn’t abide any of it. Not to mention that she was worried about what a lifetime of this diet would do to his health. “It’s nothing, really. I’m just not very hungry.” She could see from the look on his face that he wasn’t buying it.
“C’mon, Caitlin. Just give it to me straight. Are you regretting last night? I didn’t rush you into it, did I? I tried to be—”
“No! Oh, no, Max. Of course you didn’t. Last night was wonderful.”
“Wonderful, was it?” Max said, a satisfied purr in his voice.
“Don’t let it go to your head.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it. You’d never let me get away with feeling too proud of myself.” He grinned, then sobered. “If that’s not it, then what is?”
“Max, I really hate to mention anything, but do you know what the cholesterol content of this breakfast is? You’ve got gobs of butter on the toast, eggs which are already high in cholesterol fried in sausage grease which only compounds the damage. And this orange juice isn’t even real orange juice at all. It’s mostly water with artificial flavors and colors added.”
“Caitlin, I can understand you not wanting to eat meat, but you can’t let this health stuff get in the way of a normal diet.”
“Normal diet? Max, the normal diet for people thousands of years ago was mostly nuts, berries, roots, and leaves. That’s mankind’s natural diet.”
“Yeah, well, thousands of years ago the average life-span was about thirty years too.”
“That was because of disease or infection due to injuries.”
“Cait, obviously that natural diet didn’t keep them any healthier.”
She stifled a frustrated sigh. “So you think caffeine, cholesterol, artificial colors, flavors, and preservatives are going to keep you healthier?”
“Maybe not, but I don’t think eating them is like eating poison, like you do.”
“Max, you aren’t even trying to understand. Our bodies are—”
“If you hand me that malarkey about our bodies being temples—”
“I wasn’t going to—”
“Because I don’t want to hear it. You worry about what you eat and—”
“I can’t help worrying about you because—”
“I’ll worry about what I eat. And don’t—” Max stopped. “Say that again.”
“Say what again? You haven’t allowed me to finish a single statement for the last five minutes.”
“You said you worry about me.”
“So?” she said almost defiantly.
“I worry about you too, Caitie.” He paused, his eyes searching her face. “I love you.”
“You love me?” Caitlin stared at him for a long moment, stunned.
“Yeah, you stubborn, hardheaded, exasperating woman. I’m head over heels in love with you.”
Whatever reaction Max had expected, it was not Caitlin standing abruptly, knocking over her chair in her haste. Her back stiff, she said, “It’s not necessary to say that just because we—just because of what happened last night.�
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Max looked affronted. “I don’t say anything I don’t mean.”
“Max, last night was wonderful, but I’m not looking for any kind of a long-term—”
“I don’t recall having asked you for one.”
Caitlin fell silent. She looked at him for a long while, then turned away.
“What are you afraid of this time, Caitie?”
“I’m not afraid,” she denied automatically.
“Aren’t you?”
“No!” she exclaimed again.
“Oh, yes. But don’t worry, sweetheart. I’m not going anywhere this time.”
Looking anywhere but at the eyes that seemed to see right through her, Caitlin admitted, “Max, I need some time.”
“Oh, Caitie.” He gave a gentle smile. “If I gave you time, you’d use it to decide how to shut me out. I won’t let you do that. I won’t push you, sweetheart, but I won’t go away either.”
Caitlin met his gaze then and said, “I need to go pick up Jordie from Donna’s.”
“Fine. I’ll see you tonight.”
“Max—”
“Seven o’clock.”
“Max—”
“I’ll bring dinner. No meat. At least not for you,” he said cheerfully. “Now, go get dressed and I’ll run you by my office so you can pick up your car.”
Completely confused by how she’d been outmaneuvered, Caitlin did as told. Whatever she said to him didn’t seem to matter, she grumbled to herself. He just ignored it.
How could they have a serious relationship right now? She had too many things to deal with. There was Jordan—he was her first responsibility—and the greenhouse. Besides, she and Max were too different. He was so neat and organized and precise, while she was none of those things. She didn’t want to be any of those things, not if it meant living in a house where there wasn’t even one tiny piece of lint that showed a read person lived there.
And the way he ate, pumping himself full of caffeine, refined sugar, cholesterol, and all sorts of artificial things. And stubborn? She’d never met a man more stubborn than Max. He didn’t even listen to her. There was just no way any kind of relationship between them could last.
When Caitlin spoke all this aloud to Donna later that morning, her friend pursed her lips, then said slowly, “Just who are you trying to convince? Me or yourself?”
Ten
* * *
That night Max arrived at Caitlin’s forty-five minutes early. When no one responded to his tap on the screen door, he let himself in. The television was tuned to some cartoon and Jordan was sprawled on the sofa, sound asleep. He set the bags of food he carried in the kitchen and looked around for Caitlin. The sound of water running in the downstairs bathroom made Max head in that direction. He had his hand on the knob, when Caitlin opened it from the other side.
Caitlin saw Max, retreated a step, and squeaked, “You’re early!”
“Not early enough,” he said, trailing a finger along the top edge of the towel wrapped around her. “If I’d been here only a few minutes earlier, I might have found you in the shower.”
“Where’s Jordie?” Caitlin asked, clutching the towel.
“Snoring on the living room sofa.”
“Why don’t you go wake him up? If he sleeps too long, he won’t want to go to bed at his regular time.”
Max’s eyes ran hungrily over every inch of her exposed skin, and when his gaze rested on her breasts, Caitlin felt her nipples harden in response. Max reached out and unerringly put one finger on a tight bud. Caitlin’s breath caught in her throat. “Max.”
Max took a step closer to her and locked the bathroom door behind him. His eyes gleamed as he said softly, “After last night, Caitie, I should have gotten at least a hello kiss.”
A blush started at the tops of her breasts and spread up her neck to her cheeks. “About last night,” she began primly.
“Yes, let’s talk about last night, sweet Cait.” His voice was as rough as sandpaper, yet as silky as velvet. “It was the most incredible night I’ve ever had in my life. The way your lips felt beneath mine, the way your breasts filled my hands, the way your body turned to fire around me. Only instead of feeding the hunger inside me, it made it grow to where I want you more now than I did before. Is that what you want to say about last night, Cait?”
Caitlin couldn’t think of anything to say at all. His words had called up all the vivid images she had tried to hold at bay all day. And with the growing awareness, Caitlin felt a warm dampness gather between her thighs.
Her desire must have shown, because Max lowered his head to hers, stealing one kiss, then another. He sipped and savored her mouth until she responded by parting her lips. Then he crushed her in a kiss that drank greedily of her sweetness. She arched her body against his, and Max reached down and, cupping her bottom, lifted her. Her legs wrapped around him until she fit against him—her moist softness against his straining hardness.
Max’s fingers slid under the terry cloth to find her bare skin and Caitlin, moaning wordlessly, shifted slightly, trying to bring that hard pressure where she needed it. Max gave an answering groan and stepped up to the vanity, where he sat her on the edge and pulled the towel away, dropping it to the floor.
He bent his head and took one nipple into his mouth, stroking it to turgid awareness with his tongue, then gave the same loving attention to the other. The tightness in his loins became excruciating. A shudder ran through his body and he suddenly buried his face between her breasts. “God, Caitie, we’ve got to stop. Otherwise, I’m going to make love to you right here, and I don’t have anything with me to protect you.”
Caitlin felt as if she were burning and only Max could put out the flames. “Max, the timing. It’s probably all right.” The murmured words were filled with longing.
Max ached for her so desperately, he felt sweat break out on his forehead, but he shook his head. “No, sweetheart. I’ll never take a chance on that with you.”
“But it hurts,” she whispered.
Max smiled. “That’s a hurt I can take care of.” With one hand, he caressed the dewy folds of flesh between her legs. When she arched against his seeking fingers, he closed his mouth around her nipple.
“Oh, Max,” she breathed, her hands fastening in his thick hair. “I need … I need …”
Max increased the rhythm of his stroking and, moments later, was gratified to feel the spasms that shuddered through her body. He pulled her into his arms and held her tightly. He felt her pleasure as keenly as if it were his own, and he was shaken to his very soul with the intensity of it. Caitlin didn’t want to hear him say he loved her, so he would simply have to show her every chance he got.
Before either of them could say anything, there was a knock on the door and a plaintive “Mom?”
Caitlin took a deep breath. “Yes, Jordie?” She was gratified to find her voice sounded fairly steady.
“Mom, is Max in there?”
“Um …” She paused, wondering how to answer. “Why do you ask, honey?”
“Cause his car’s here and I can’t find him anywhere.”
Caitlin cast a quick glance at Max, who pointed upstairs. “Have you checked upstairs?”
“No.”
“Well, maybe he’s there looking for you. Why don’t you go see?”
Caitlin and Max listened to footsteps that stamped away, then Max kissed her, a quick, gentle kiss, and left, closing the bathroom door quietly behind him. One minute later Caitlin heard Jordan’s shout of welcome, followed by the muffled sound of delighted chatter.
She turned to get her clothes from the vanity and caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. She paused to stare at a sight of herself she’d never seen before. Her cheeks were flushed with fulfilled pleasure, her lips red from Max’s kisses, her breasts still swollen from his touch. But the biggest difference was in her eyes. The shadows banished, her eyes sparkled with delight.
She looked like a woman who had been thoroughly loved. Hoping Jor
die didn’t notice and question the change in her, she quickly tugged on jeans and a T-shirt.
When she entered the kitchen a few minutes later, Max was taking carry-out cartons from the microwave. He turned to her, and his eyes held hers. Wild violets? Blue hyacinths? Bachelor buttons? There just had to be a name for the blue of his eyes, Caitlin thought.
He smiled as he said, “I don’t understand it. Somehow the food got cold, so I had to heat them up.”
Feeling suddenly shy, Caitlin lowered her gaze.
“Voilà!” Max announced, setting the cartons on the table. “Chinese. And I got vegetable stir-fry with tofu for you.”
Pleasure coursed through her at his thoughtfulness. Not that she could eat the dish, since it probably had loads of MSG. But that was her fault. She hadn’t told him about her allergy.
He really was the most wonderful man she’d ever met. Also bullheaded and exasperating, but wonderful nevertheless. Maybe, just maybe, whatever was between them could work out after all.
Caitlin and Max saw each other every day the following week. One night they took Jordan skating, the next Max came to her house for dinner. A couple of evenings the three of them piled on Max’s sofa and watched TV. Max even took Jordan with him and his three nephews to see a movie. The thought of Max in an elegant suit sitting through a film about ninja turtles while surrounded by screaming, excited children filled Caitlin with tender amusement.
By Friday Max was ready to eat nails. He’d had a week of close contact, affectionate touching, but no satisfaction. He wanted so desperately to be alone with Caitlin, he was willing to resort to almost anything. Even bribery.
He dropped by the greenhouse in the middle of the day with flowers and lunch from the health food store she liked. He even went so far as to eat some of the spiced lentils over rice. And that was a real sacrifice, he thought. But when he asked Caitlin to come to his house by herself that evening, she demurred.
“Caitie, I want to be with you.” Max walked around the desk to stand in front of her.
“You could come by my house for dinner tonight with me and Jordan.”