Panic prickled at the back of his neck. He glanced toward the kitchen window and frowned as Jessi laughed at something Tim whispered in her ear. Tuck’s warning wasn’t necessary. Her tenacity was the reason Max had gone out of his way to avoid the sexy little crooner for the past five years, and his loss of reason when he’d finally put his hands on her only emphasized the validity of that evasion.
He turned to glower at his friend. “Then why the hell would you agree with Ryan that I should accept her proposition? Aren’t you afraid I’m going to hurt her?”
“Do you plan to?”
He jammed a hand through his hair in agitation. “Not purposefully. I care about her, too, you know.”
“Good to know.” Tuck crossed his arms and the tines of the fork stuck up beside his head like some kind of satanic staff. “But that’s not what I meant. That was a very pretty speech you gave but then, a bluff is always more convincing when it contains an element of truth.”
Max dropped his arm to his side and bristled at the insinuation that skimmed a little too close to the truth for his liking. “What the hell is that supposed to mean? The plan was to make everyone believe we’re a couple. That’s what I’ve done.”
Cocking his head, Tuck peeled his lips back in a leering grin. “Jessi wasn’t the only one huffing and puffing after that kiss. I’ve watched you twist yourself into a pretzel in an effort to steer clear of her all these years. There are only three reasons a man goes to that much trouble to avoid a woman. She’s either married, ugly enough to choke a dog, or he’s attracted and the idea scares the shit out of him.”
Since married and ugly didn’t apply in Jessi’s case, Tuck’s meaning was crystal clear…and right. Damn it. Still, what the hell was wrong with him? He knew Max’s track record with women. Tuck should be pissed at the thought of his little cousin throwing herself at a man like him, not grinning like an ass.
“What’s your point? That your cousin is a beautiful woman?” His snort was short and dismissive. “A man would have to be blind not to notice, but she’s far too young for an old street fighter like me. Besides, she’s the picket fence and babies type. You know I don’t do permanent.”
“Be careful, Max.” Tuck dropped his arms to flip a steak onto the large platter beside the grill. “Until the day I laid eyes on CC, I sang that same tune.”
Unease slithered up Max’s spine to wrap around his throat in a chokehold. He grunted. “Fuck you. This situation is entirely different.”
Tuck chuckled and shook his head. “Is it? CC and I had a plan, too, remember? A temporary arrangement that didn’t include picket fences and babies.” He glanced around the sprawling grounds of his suburban home. “Look at us now.”
What Max remembered was goading Tuck at every opportunity as he’d watched his confirmed bachelor friend fall hard and fast for his future wife. At the time, their relatively new friendship had included a harmless but intense game of one-upmanship as they chased after the same women. By Max’s estimation, they’d been about even in the list of women they’d stolen out from under each other’s noses, but when CC arrived on the scene and Max had shown an interest in adding her to his list, the game lost all appeal for Tuck.
Was that what this was about? A little payback? Screw that. If Tuck planned to get a few laughs at his expense by pushing the idea of him and Jessi as a real couple, he had another think coming. “It’s not the same. Jessi isn’t CC, and the last woman I’d take to bed is the darling princess of those I consider friends.”
Surprised understanding flashed in Tuck’s eyes as they studied him. He said nothing for a long moment, then cocked his head as if in speculation. “Is that right?”
Gritting his teeth, Max held his friend’s challenging gaze. “Damn straight it is. I agreed to help until the asshole threatening Jessi is caught. When he is, I’ll deliver her back to the family unharmed and untouched.”
A sly smile pulled at Tuck’s lips. “I’ve got a C-note that says you’ll fold like a bad hand of cards the first time she takes a shower, then has to skip through your condo in a hand towel because she’s forgotten her clothes.”
Unbidden, the image of Jessi, dripping wet and naked, flashed through Max’s head and the hard-on that hadn’t quite subsided since that gut-wrenching kiss pulsed with new life. She wouldn’t dare. Oh, hell. Knowing Jessi, yes, she would.
He slammed his mind’s door on the tempting vision. Shit, what had he gotten himself into?
Chapter 6
Jessi swallowed as Max ushered her inside his quiet condo. The night had gone far better than expected, with even her father accepting their surprising status as a couple at face value. However, despite the seeming success of her plan, it appeared Max had been correct in his predictions where they applied to Tuck. Though her cousin showed no discernible signs of anger after he and Max came in from the patio, something uncomfortable had obviously passed between them.
No one but she and Gracie, whose smile remained forced throughout the evening, seemed to notice how tense and withdrawn Max had become, despite the typical laughter and teasing around the table. The evening had dragged on interminably for Jessi. By the time the meal was over and they donned their coats to leave, a headache stabbed at her left temple and guilt bunched her shoulder muscles until they ached.
After that soul-stealing kiss, the last thing she wanted was to call a halt to their deal, but it was no use. She couldn’t go through with this farce. Not at the expense of Max and Tuck’s friendship. She needed to fix things before they got any worse.
The door clicked shut behind them and she turned. Somber and steady, Max’s gray gaze met hers, and a piercing sadness squeezed her heart.
She forced her lips into a smile. “You were right.”
“About what?” He stepped farther into the room and shrugged out of his coat.
Pain throbbed behind her eyes. She blinked and dropped her chin to busy herself with removing her gloves. “This.” She looked up and swung a hand in an encompassing arch. “All of this. It was a stupid idea, and I’m sorry I dragged you into it.”
His bark of laughter had all the humor of a car wreck. “You’ll get no argument from me there.” He turned away and tossed his coat across the back of the couch. “Anyway, it’s done. Your family believes we’re a couple. Let’s hope your adoring public is as easily fooled.”
She stared at his broad back and absorbed the hurt his dismissive words caused. The only man she’d ever truly wanted saw her as nothing but a chore, and an odious one at that. Ego demanded she make him pay for the ache that knowledge caused, but her breaking heart simply wanted this painful episode done.
“That won’t be necessary.”
He glanced over one shoulder, a question in his intent gaze.
Her throat contracted on a swallow. “I’ll call Tuck and explain everything, but if you wouldn’t mind me staying for tonight, I’d rather not disturb Dan or my father until the morning.”
Turning slowly, he faced her fully and crossed his arms. “You’re throwing in the towel?” His question held more than a hint of surprise.
“I wouldn’t classify it that way. More like recalculating.” She frowned and bumped up her chin. “I know you think I’m a spoiled little bitch, but I don’t purposefully hurt the people I care about.”
An instant scowl wrinkled his forehead, and he dropped his arms to his sides. “Hold it right there, Squirt. Don’t put words in my mouth.”
“I’m not.” Okay, maybe she was, but he was making her mad, and her head was killing her. She needed a pill and a dark room. The sooner he let her say her piece, the sooner she could find both. “I’m trying to let you off the hook, you jerk.”
“Is that right?”
Nodding was a mistake. Tiny knives slashed at her brain.
At her uncontrollable wince, his gaze narrowed in on her face. “What’s the matter with you?”
She didn’t bother answering. Slipping the purse from h
er shoulder, she yanked it open. Her hand shook as she dug through the contents.
His sigh was long and drawn out. “So, you’re cutting me loose. Then what?”
“I don’t know yet, but I’ll figure something out.” Head bowed and eyes squinted against the throbbing pain, her fingers fumbled with the inner zippered pocket of her purse. “Damn it!”
Before she could find the prescription bottle she knew was in there somewhere, he stepped forward and gripped her arm to pull her toward the couch. “Sit down before you fall down.” He lowered her to the cushions. “What is it, a headache?”
She slammed her eyes shut on a white-hot lash of agony. “Migraine.”
The purse slid from her fingers, and she slapped her hands over her eyes. She’d waited too long, and now she would pay. The sound of pills clicking in a bottle made her whimper.
“How many?” His deep voice battered about inside her head.
“Please, stop yelling.” She dragged in a harsh breath. “One for now.”
“Do you need a drink to wash it down?” His low croon was less painful, but the words still cracked against her skull.
She moved her head in an abbreviated shake, and jumped when a warm finger brushed over her bottom lip. Opening her mouth, she stuck out her tongue so he could deliver the pill. Her throat convulsed on a desperate swallow.
She knew from experience the next half hour would be an agonizing waiting game and only luck would keep her stomach from revolting. The odds of that happening increased when Max tucked one arm beneath her thighs and the other behind her back to lift her in his arms. She smashed her lips together as he spun around and they began to move. Jaw locked shut, she didn’t bother voicing a complaint. At the moment, she simply didn’t have the strength.
Cool and crisp, the pillow cradled her head as he gently lowered her to her back. She squinted through half closed lids to find he’d delivered her to the darkened guest bedroom. She lay still, the pinpoint of her vision on his intent face as he pulled one arm from her coat and then the next. Once he’d slipped off her shoes, he disappeared into the attached bath. She curled into a ball and closed her eyes.
Breathe, Jessi. In and out, in and out.
She didn’t open her eyes as he tugged bedding over her shoulders and placed a cool cloth on her forehead.
“There’s a basin on the nightstand right beside you. Call out if you need me.”
* * * *
Jessi sighed deeply, slid the phone from the pocket of her slacks, and checked the time. One twenty-six. Roughly an hour had passed since Max had tucked her in, and though the migraine had dwindled to a simple headache, experience told her another pill was necessary if she didn’t want a repeat of the earlier attack. Tossing aside the bedding, she sat up gingerly and went in search of her pills.
Other than the quiet hum of the refrigerator, the condo was silent. A lamp burned beside the couch. Her purse sat on the stone coffee table. After retrieving the prescription bottle, she padded into the kitchen. Her mouth was as dry as the Sahara, and with the threat of puking less likely, she was willing to take a chance at drinking something. The refrigerator contained several types of juice, but none appealed at the moment. She bypassed them for a bottle of spring water.
Swallowing a pill, her gaze wandered to the closed door of Max’s bedroom. The swift onset of her migraine had interrupted the dissolution of their agreement, but what, really, was left to be said? Her boyfriend plan was a bust and the sooner she patched things up between Max and Tuck the sooner she could stop feeling like a total shit.
Unfortunately, that conversation would have to wait until morning. She wasn’t about to call Dan at this hour either, but cab companies ran all night. She didn’t belong here. It was time to go home.
She rounded the kitchen island to retrieve her coat and shoes from the bedroom but stopped short and stared at the open front door. Unease lifted the fine hair on her arms and neck. What the hell? She distinctly remembered Max closing the door when they arrived. Why was it open now?
A metallic clank reached her ears, and she cocked her head to listen. Someone was downstairs in the fight center. Oh, shit. Adrenaline pumped in her veins and her gaze flew to Max’s bedroom door. Oh, God. Was he being robbed on top of everything else?
She tiptoed across the room and didn’t bother knocking. Twisting the knob, she stepped over the threshold as the door swung open on silent hinges.
“Max?” Not daring to turn on a light, she made her whisper louder. “Max!”
Only the occasional clink from downstairs met her call. Squinting through the darkness, she eyed his crisply made, empty bed. Fear slid into relief, and she slumped against the doorjamb. Okay, false alarm. Max wasn’t asleep after all. She looked over her shoulder. Obviously, the noise from downstairs came from him.
She crossed to the condo’s open front door, then moved down the hallway to the stairs on silent feet. Hesitating, she bent at the waist and peeked over the railing on the off chance a crazy exercise nut had murdered Max and was working out before he left.
Nope, no crazies, unless she wanted to count crazy gorgeous. Shirtless, in a pair of washed out shorts that hugged his thick thighs, Max stood with his arms widespread before a floor to ceiling mirror. A pair of large, chunky gray weights were in his fisted hands. The muscles in his back bunched as his arms rose toward the ceiling. With a clank, the weights met high above his head before he lowered his arms once more.
Not wishing to disturb him, but having no choice, Jessi moved down a few steps as he repeated the move in several more reps. He must have caught her reflection in the mirror because he dropped his arms to his sides and turned.
“Feeling better?”
“Much.” Embarrassed at more than just his witnessing her at such a weak moment, she forced a smile and descended the remaining steps. “Thanks for helping earlier.”
He nodded silently and turned to set the weights on a shelf holding others of varying size.
“I don’t mean to interrupt.”
He turned his head. “You’re not.”
She bit her bottom lip. Knowing Max, he wasn’t going to be happy when she announced her intention to call a cab, and she wasn’t up for an argument. She delayed the inevitable by crossing the room. A single stationary bike sat against one wall. She climbed on as he grabbed a towel from a nearby rack and wiped his face.
Casting about for something to say, her gaze was drawn to the glisten of sweat on his muscled chest. God, he was beautiful. At six foot, he moved with an animal grace that never failed to leave her insides quivering. Like a jungle cat, his sleekly sculpted, olive-toned skin covered a body that whispered of unleashed power.
What would it be like to be held beneath his body as she stared into his soul through those mesmerizing gray eyes? If his kiss was any indication, making love with him would be like touching the sun. Hot, all encompassing, and more than a little dangerous. Danger she’d gladly face, but though she yearned to ask him why he’d kissed her, and beg him to please do it again, what would be the point? He’d made his reluctant acceptance of the situation more than clear, and she was through chasing after a fantasy that would never be.
The cold hard truth was, she’d made a mess of things. They’d never be lovers as she’d hoped, and she’d have to accept that. Though their friendship had never been an easy one, she couldn’t stand the thought of losing that, too. She cleared her throat. “Do you always work out in the middle of the night?”
In the low light, his eyes were as dark as a stormy sea as they appeared above the white cloth. “Only when I can’t sleep.”
“I compose when I can’t sleep.” She slipped her socked feet onto the pedals and pushed down. The bike’s belt began to hum. She tossed him a self-deprecating grin. “The lyrics seldom make any sense in the morning, however.”
He rewarded her with a quiet chuckle.
“Sorry about earlier. I shouldn’t have waited so long before tak
ing a pill. I know better.”
Tossing aside the towel, he straddled the bench beside the bike. “How long have you been having migraines?”
She met his gaze and held it. There was no judgment in his eyes, only curiosity. “About a year.”
“Does the family know?”
Of course he’d ask. The family kept tabs on her every move. She shrugged a shoulder as if it didn’t matter. “Tim does. I had one about a month ago after a show. He was there, and Aurora found the prescription bottle in my bathroom. Dan immediately informed Dad.”
Max didn’t comment on her disgruntled tone. He simply nodded. “They’re often caused by stress.”
Talk about pointing out the obvious. She shot him a sidelong smirk. “Thank you, Doctor Grayson. I wasn’t aware of that.”
A dimple popped with his smile. She ignored the fluttering in her belly. Tonight was the one and only night she and Max would be spending together, and they’d be doing it fully clothed. She eyed the tattoo riding his muscled shoulder and pec. Correction, she was fully clothed—but for her shoes—and the damn butterflies in her belly would just have to learn to live with disappointment.
She shook her head. “How do you know so much about migraines?”
He leaned forward with his elbows propped on his lower thighs, and her eyes were drawn to his big hands dangling between his knees.
“My mother suffered from them.”
“Your mother?” Her gaze flew to his face. “I thought you grew up in foster care.” She could have bitten her tongue the moment the words left her mouth. Her nose scrunched in a wince. “Sorry, that was rude.”
Surprisingly, humor twinkled in his eyes. “It’s not rude if it’s the truth. I wasn’t always a foster kid. My father died when I was twelve. Mom died a year later.”
Her legs quit pumping and the bike’s belt stilled. “Oh, Max. I’m so sorry.”
To Win Her Heart (Players) Page 6