by Berg, Patti
The key he’d left for Lauren in a potted fern hanging from the patio cover lay on the table beside a list of emergency contacts and phone numbers, plus homework and bedtime instructions. A bold red checkmark followed each one of the assignments and chores, and scribbled at the bottom he read:
Dear Max,
Thank you so much for asking me to watch Jamie and Ryan. This was the second best time of my life. The first was Saturday evening with you.
Lauren
He chuckled to himself, folded the note, and stuck it into the inside pocket of his jacket, just in case she ever needed a reminder that kids could be fun, or that she’d spent the best night of her life with him.
He dropped his leather jacket over a kitchen chair, realizing that he was just as big an offender as the kids when it came to messing up the place. He pulled off his boots and socks and crept into the living room, not wanting to wake Lauren if she was asleep on the couch.
The coffee and end tables should have been cluttered with bags of chips and half-full cans of soda. MTV should have been blaring on an unwatched TV. But the room was spotless except for schoolbooks, neatly closed.
Lauren must have bribed them. He couldn’t think of any other reason the house would be clean, unless Lauren had done the work herself. That thought made him laugh. Miss Palm Beach might not be all that domestic, but the little things she did brought joy to his life. What more did a man need?
Heading down the hallway, he eased open Ryan’s door and stepped inside, maneuvering around basketballs, gym clothes, tennis shoes, and jeans. The clean house stopped at the red and white do not enter sign posted on the outside of Ryan’s bedroom door. Ryan liked the “feel” of his mess and didn’t want anyone touching his stuff. Max didn’t come unglued about the state of the room. If Ryan wanted to live in a pigsty, that was his choice. He’d outgrow it sooner or later.
Over the past two years Ryan had amassed a roomful of sports memorabilia, not to mention walls covered with Michael Jordan, Larry Bird, and Shaquille O’Neal posters. On the table next to his bed was the lockbox where he kept his collection of basketball cards, including the ones signed by Magic Johnson, Charles Barkley, and his all-time favorite, Wilt Chamberlain.
Max had no doubt Ryan could end up with a basketball scholarship. He’d encourage the boy in every way he could, but he wouldn’t make decisions for him. Ryan knew right from wrong, he knew what he had to do to get ahead, but the choices were his own to make. If he stumbled and fell, well, he’d just have to pick himself up and move on. That’s what Max had been taught, and it had served him well.
That didn’t mean, however, that he didn’t have a soft side.
Looking at Ryan sprawled on top of his bed, the covers in a heap on the floor, his arms curled around a basketball, made Max realize just how much he loved him. He leaned over the bed and pressed a kiss to Ryan’s forehead, something he wasn’t allowed to do when the boy was awake. Philippe had kissed him that way, too, always late at night when he thought Max was asleep. Max hadn’t liked outward displays of affection anymore than Ryan did. But he’d liked it when Philippe had come into his room, pulled the covers up to his chest, and gently cupped his hand around Max’s shoulder. Max had never opened his eyes, never let Philippe know that he was awake. He just enjoyed knowing he was loved.
Making his way back through the hovel, he closed Ryan’s door and went to Jamie’s room. That’s where he found Lauren, sitting in a chair beside Jamie’s bed with an open book in her lap, her eyes closed, her head tilted to one side as she slept. It didn’t matter how many times he saw her—or how she looked when he saw her—he always found her beautiful. This morning, though, sitting by his daughter, she was prettier than ever.
He wanted to wake her, wanted to hold her, but he let her sleep, and went to Jamie instead. He sat on the edge of the bed and brushed a lock of hair from his little girl’s brow. Pulling the sheet up to her shoulders, he kissed her forehead. She stirred, her eyes fluttering open then closed again as she tucked her hands beneath her cheek, and settled back into sleep.
He stood slowly, noticing in the moonlight that the far corner of Jamie’s room was piled high with white, black, pink, and gold shopping bags with the names of exclusive Palm Beach shops emblazoned on their sides. The bribe! He should have known.
“We had fun.” He turned at the sound of Lauren’s whisper. Her eyes were open, watching him, and he held out his hand to her. The minute their fingers touched, he realized how much he needed her, how much he loved her warmth, the comfort that he found having her near. They’d known each other barely a week, but it seemed a lifetime.
“You look tired,” she said, gently touching his cheek when they stepped into the hallway.
He quietly closed Jamie’s door. “It’s been a long day.”
“I could tell that from the phone message you left.” She reached out and smoothed a strand of hair from his brow. “I’m sorry you didn’t find your sister.”
“This isn’t the first time I’ve gone on a wild goose chase.”
Her fingers lingered at his cheek then slowly curled around his neck. “Why don’t I fix you a drink?”
“That’s not what I need.” He lowered his mouth to hers, finding something far more potent than liquor to enjoy. His kiss was soft, but the feel of her breasts against his chest and the beat of her heart matching the rapid thump of his own made him want so much more.
He pressed her against the wall, his hands cupping her face, holding her mouth close as his tongue swept inside, danced with hers, and tasted her sweetness. His breath was ragged, his body hard with need. God, he wanted her. He needed her to wipe out the frustration and regret of the day, but reality surfaced.
His kiss slowed, gentled. “I want you more than I’ve ever wanted anyone,” he whispered, “but not in the hallway, not with Jamie and Ryan close by.”
She slipped her fingers through his and tugged him down the hallway. When they reached the laundry room, she grabbed the tote bag and her shoes from the top of the washer. “It’s been a long day, Max. You need to sleep and I should head for home.”
“If I went to bed right now all I’d do is toss and turn. I need to talk about today, about you and me, about where we’re going from here.”
Her gaze shot to her purple bag. “I brought a swimsuit.” Her hands slipped up his arms and did wonders on the hard, tense muscles in his shoulders. “It’s warm out and the pool’s inviting. We could talk. You could relax.”
Relax? Hell! He hadn’t forgotten how seductive she’d looked walking out of her swimming pool, hadn’t forgotten her alluring curves, the way he’d hardened at the sight of her. “Getting into the water with you could be dangerous.”
“All I plan to do is swim.”
“I might have other ideas.”
Her soft lips tilted into a smile. “I’ll take my chances.”
Had he gone plumb loco? he wondered, when she headed to the bathroom to change. How could he get into the swimming pool with Lauren and not do something rash? He didn’t want her in a swimsuit, no matter how sexy she looked. He wanted her naked, and he wanted to spend hours exploring all her luscious curves, every nook and cranny.
But not in his backyard pool. Not when Jamie or Ryan could wake up and stumble outside to find them. Somehow or other he was going to have to keep his lust under control, but that was easier said than done around Miss Palm Beach.
He went to his room, stripped out of his clothes, and pulled on a baggy pair of swim trunks. Stepping in front of the mirror, he took a look at himself, wondering what a woman like Lauren Remington could possibly see in him— especially now. He had a day’s growth of heavy black stubble on his cheeks and dark circles ringed his eyes. Not an impressive sight.
A few quick swipes with a razor took care of the stubble. There wasn’t much he could do about the exhaustion that was evident on his face, but he took a toothbrush to his teeth and felt somewhat human again.
He also felt like a schoolboy o
n his very first date.
Lauren, however, was far from being a schoolgirl.
Grabbing a couple of towels from the linen closet, he headed outside into the warm night air. Lauren was already there, standing breast deep and looking drop-dead gorgeous with the moonlit water lapping about her body. He dropped the towels on a patio chair and dove into the pool.
The underwater lights shimmered on her legs, which fluttered back and forth, keeping her afloat. He circled her body, stroking her hips and the outsides of her thighs as he swam, and watched, and felt his need for her rise to an all-time high.
Putting his hands on her hips, he pulled himself to the surface. Their eyes met. Danger and desire were only a heartbeat away. He moved in for a kiss, but she shoved away from him, laughing as she swam to the steps at the shallow end.
“Frightened?” He focused on her pretty green eyes, while stroking through the water toward her.
She shook her head. “Not of you.”
“What are you afraid of then?” he asked, standing over her, water dripping from his hair to her upturned face.
“My reactions to you. I need to go slow, but I want to move fast, and those two emotions are doing battle with each other.”
“Just do what feels right to you.”
She put her hand on his stomach, swirling her fingers through the hair on his chest. “Touching you feels right.” He gritted his teeth as she kissed his navel, and fire shot through his loins.
Bracing his hands on her knees, he spread her legs gently. He wanted to slide his fingers under her bathing suit and feel the heat inside her. It would have been so easy, but that wasn’t his intention now. He lowered himself into the water, sat between her thighs, and they squeezed around him.
Like a woman born to pamper a man, she kneaded the muscles along his spine with her fingers, working her way up to his shoulders, his neck. “Relax,” she whispered.
His head fell forward as her fingers worked their magic.
“Tell me about your sister,” she said, drawing his head back to rest beneath her chin as she gently massaged his temples. “What’s her name?”
“Charlotte.”
“Do you think she might have changed her name? That she might have been adopted? That might be why you’re having trouble finding her.”
“I’ve thought a million things since I started searching, the only thing I won’t allow myself to think is that she might be dead.” He closed his eyes, drew one of her hands to his mouth, and pressed a slow, lingering kiss to her palm. “Sometimes, like today, it seems useless to keep looking.”
“Why?”
“I’ve been searching since I was twenty. I spent a couple of years riding from town to town trying to come up with leads, but I couldn’t find a thing, except my mother.” He pulled Lauren’s arms around him, hugging them close to his chest, soaking in her comfort. He told Lauren about being deserted at ten, about his mother driving off with his brother and sister and promising to send for him, about finding out that Zack was dead.
“When I found my mother she was living in Brentwood, in a place that was a far cry from the trailer where I’d been raised. She had a rich husband, she had the life she’d always dreamed of, and she didn’t want memories or the reality of her past messing up what she had.”
“But she must have been happy to see you.”
Max laughed. “I showed up on her doorstep and you would have thought I was a complete stranger. She told me to go away, but I walked right into her house, for all the good that did. She didn’t want to talk to me, claimed she didn’t know who I was talking about when I mentioned Charlotte and Zack, and said she’d never had a son named Max. Then she picked up the phone to call the police. That’s when I left, and I didn’t bother going back again.”
“I’m sorry, Max.”
“It’s history. I don’t think about her. I try not to think about Zack because I can’t bring him back, but I can’t get Charlotte off my mind.”
“You’ll find her,” Lauren whispered, and kissed his shoulder before he pushed away from her and easily switched places, drawing her luscious hips between his thighs, her sleek back against his chest.
“It’s my turn to ease some of your tension,” he said, sliding his hands over her arms, her shoulders, gently massaging the tightness at the base of her neck. He could easily run his fingers under her bathing suit and drive her mad with passion, then satisfy his own burning need, but holding her, touching her, talking to her tonight was what she needed. And that made him feel good inside.
He kissed the top of her head, resting his chin in the softness of her hair. “Tell me about your day.“
She swirled her fingers over his thigh, her touch driving him mad, making him want to forget all his good intentions. But when she started to recount the day’s events, he was caught up in the happiness of her voice.
“I think I might make a good mother after all,” she said. “I didn’t have to threaten or raise my voice, and once Jamie and Ryan realized that I couldn’t be intimidated, we got along fine.”
“I suppose the shopping trip did wonders, too?”
She tilted her head upward, and he could see the smile in her eyes. “Shopping is one of the highlights of life.”
“I saw a new basketball in Ryan’s room. Did he get that before or after he did his history assignments?”
“After, of course. I thought we’d never get his homework done. Goodness, Max, he hates history more than I do.”
“And what about Jamie?” he asked, trailing his fingers along the top edge of her suit, fighting the urge to circle them over the hardened nipples he’d seen through the stretchy lavender fabric. “What did you buy her?”
“Girl stuff. Some adorable shirts, a pair of sandals, some panties and bras.”
His fingers stilled. “Did she talk you into that?”
“Of course not. It was all my idea.”
“But she has clothes, she has sandals, and she has bras!”
Lauren twisted around, hitting him with a frown. “You call those dreadful things you bought her bras?”
“She’s eleven years old, for God’s sake! What more does she need?”
“Something frilly and feminine, which is exactly what I purchased.”
“Not at Victoria’s Secret, I hope?”
“Of course not. We went to the boutique where I buy most all of my lingerie. I actually found a few things that weren’t too expensive.”
His entire body tensed. “And what exactly is your definition of not too expensive?”
“A hundred dollars or so.”
“For how many? Half a dozen?”
“Don’t be silly. That was for one bra and a matching pair of panties, and I couldn’t believe our luck that they had the same thing in seven different colors.”
“So you bought all seven?”
She smiled sweetly. “A set for each day of the week.”
Max plowed his fingers through his hair. “You know, Lauren, I do okay with my catering business. I’ve got a house that’s paid for and I’ve made some smart investments that help me live comfortably, but if I have to buy hundred-dollar bras every time I turn around, I’ll be broke in a year.”
“What I purchased today was a gift. Purely a girl thing, because honestly, Max, Jamie needed someone like me to take her shopping for bras. Of course, she’ll grow out of them soon—”
“I don’t want to hear about it.”
“It’s a fact of life.”
“I’m only interested in one pair of breasts,” he barked, staring at the objects he’d become quite fond of in recent days. “Your breasts are the only breasts I want to talk about, the only breasts I want to think about, and the only breasts I want to touch.”
Lauren smiled. “Oh, Max, you say the sweetest things.”
“Don’t get too used to it.” He grinned. “It takes a lot of energy for me to say something that creative.”
“I don’t think it takes any energy at all.” She moved
closer and lightly kissed his lips. “You just get disgruntled and all sorts of things flow from this wonderful mouth of yours.”
“Getting disgruntled comes easily when you’re around.”
“I know.” She pushed away from him and climbed from the pool. “That’s why I’m leaving,” she said, combing her fingers through her hair and smoothing it away from her face. “If I stick around much longer you’re going to be all tense again, and you won’t be able to sleep.”
“I’m tense right now, and the last thing I want to do is sleep.” He followed her across the patio and wrapped one of the towels about her.
“I know what you want to do,” she said, lifting his hands to her mouth and kissing his knuckles. “I want the same thing.”
“Then don’t leave. I’ll turn out the lights, we’ll get back in the pool.”
“There’s a time and place for everything,” she said, the voice of reason when all his sensibilities had left him. “This isn’t it.”
“Tomorrow night, then. I’ll get someone to watch the kids.”
She stilled his words with another kiss. “Mrs. Fisk, my cook, came home this afternoon. My mother’s gone and my house is virtually empty. Why don’t you come for dinner at eight? Maybe you can tell me again that my breasts are the only ones you want to touch.”
He kissed her lightly. “I’ll show you instead.”
She smiled, and all too soon pulled away from him, grabbed her tote bag, and headed for her car. His arms felt empty; he wanted her back. But tomorrow night she wouldn’t leave. Tomorrow night he’d have all that he wanted.
Lauren rolled down the car window after she started the engine. “I’ll have Charles bring up the best bottle of wine from the cellar, and I’ll tell Mrs. Fisk not to bother with dessert.”
“Good,” Max said. “We’ll have each other instead.”
Sixteen
Lauren spent half the morning zipping in and out of Ralph Lauren, Chanel, and Cartier, looking for the perfect clothing and accessories for a romantic evening. She had the oddest feeling that Max didn’t give a fig for what she wore, in fact, he’d probably prefer her in nothing at all, but she did want to look her best when he peeled away every speck of her attire.