But the conversation ricocheted in my head all day long. More, I realized I had no right to ask Max about his past when I kept him at arm’s length. Much as I wanted to go online, find out what had happened, I didn’t. I didn’t want the tabloid’s biased opinions about something obviously painful to him.
The drizzle finally gave way to a deluge as the bus I’d taken slowed near my apartment. I hopped off and sprinted toward my building. Gah, despite my fast dash, the rain won, soaking me right down to my underwear.
As I neared my place, a cab slowed to a halt. Titus jumped out seconds later. “Ila,” he greeted with a wry twist of his lips. “Lousy weather.”
“Yeah.” I ran up the stairs with him close behind. He pulled off his long car coat, and as we both entered the foyer, the soft strains of piano music drifted to me. I walked into the living room and gaped at the huge piano keyboard against the wall.
Ray and Max turned. His unreadable gaze slid behind me.
“That sounds really cool,” Titus said, seeming to have forgotten Max’s attack on him.
Max said nothing as he ran his fingers over the keys, then he stopped playing, rose, and started stacking a pile of paper neatly on the dining table.
“Ugh, sis, why couldn’t you come a little later?” Ray sighed. “I was enjoying Max tinkering about.”
“I’ll be out of your hair in a moment.” I turned to Titus. “See you in a few, I need to get out of these wet things.
“Right. I’ll get ready.” At Titus’s words, my gaze shifted back to Max. He wasn’t looking at me, but the rigid line of his body spoke volumes.
With a sigh, I made my way upstairs.
Later, while I worked, sounds of Max playing the piano drifted into the studio, a little muted with the closed door. The compelling draw of his music made me want to send Titus home and go and listen to him.
But that wouldn’t help pay the bills. And Titus had already paid half his fees.
The pounding strains of Chopin rebounded for several seconds, followed by dark, haunting pieces that troubled me. At last, it eased, and a more fluid melody surrounded me. I barely noticed a naked Titus as I worked on his torso, lost in the music. It wrapped around me, calming, soothing. The need to work on something different—my own paintings—took hold.
Maybe it was fear that kept me from doing what I wanted. But with Devyn always pushing me to work at something more lucrative, I’d shied away from a dicey career as a full-time artist and settled into advertising with thoughts of…no, with Devyn’s thoughts of opening my own agency later.
“Ila, we done here?”
I blinked and found myself staring blankly at the wet paint on the canvas, paintbrush in hand. Since my concentration was shot to pieces, I nodded. “We are. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
After Titus had left, I pulled out a new canvas, fresh brushes, and a new array of oils and stilled. Aw, crappity crap! I’d forgotten all about the fake date I’d told Max I had tonight.
Chewing my lip, I ran through my short list—short? Ugh, who was I kidding? My list of male friends was nonexistent. And I was in a damn jam.
Chapter Eight
Ila
A loud knock pulled me out of my work. I stared for a second at the fluid brush strokes, at the haunting scene of the city lost in fog. Dark, spindly tree limbs in the foreground tried to conceal the buildings. Ominous…eerie. No, it wasn’t just my wrecked relationship with Devyn that had me painting this way. My mind was a dark, muddled place.
“Ilaaaa!” Fists pounded on my studio door.
With a sigh, I dropped my brush into the turps and opened the door. Ray was bouncing on her heels, excitement practically oozing out of her pores. “C’mon—c’mon, let’s roll. The Grave waits for us.”
“That statement is just so wrong.”
She laughed. “It is the hottest place trending right now. Why are you still hibernating?”
“I’m working. Besides, it’s not even nine.” I rolled my eyes and walked into the living room, Ray hard on my heels.
“The perfect time. Come on, Ila,” she wheedled behind me, but I barely heard her. Movement to my right drew my attention to the stairs. Max jogged down, freshly showered and dressed in black jeans and a long-sleeved Henley. I didn’t see Ray’s friend, or a guy I thought too young. All I saw was the man creeping behind my tightly erected walls.
Much as I wanted to say, “I have a date,” who was I kidding? Max had probably seen right through my lie last night. Avoiding his gaze, I blew out a weary breath. “Fine. Give me a few minutes to change.”
“Yes!” Ray grinned, punching the air. She pivoted to Max. “Are The Players meeting us there?”
I didn’t hear his response as I ran upstairs to my bedroom to get ready, calling myself all kinds of stupid for wanting to be with Max.
***
Max had parked in an alley a short distance from the club. We made our way to the crowded side entrance when Ray cursed, “What’s he doing here?”
Frowning, I scanned the crowded entrance. Ryder. He was chatting with a group of people. He’d asked me to come to this opening. And I’d turned him down. Darn, I hope it wouldn’t lead to a misunderstanding when he saw me here, thinking I’d changed my mind. Ryder did have a tendency to do as he pleased.
He was attractive, I’d give him that. It’s probably why he was in the modeling biz. He was around my age, a little on the lean side, with olive skin and dark, mahogany hair that had a tendency to curl. Any girl would probably be happy to have his attention, except for one thing—okay, maybe two.
Ryder suffered from the same compulsive speaking disorder that Ray did, only his centered on one thing—himself. And when he got close, he became all handsy.
“Think we can avoid him?” Ray asked.
“Who?” Max asked, scanning the crowd.
I bit my lip, not wanting to tell him about Ryder and his “Octopus Syndrome.” Max had already blown a gasket with Titus, who hadn’t done anything except…be naked. Ugh, no, I didn’t want to think about either.
Ryder glanced our way, and when his gaze fell on me, a grin lit his striking features. He said something to his friends and strolled over. “Ila.”
Oh, man. I forced a friendly smile. After all, he had been a client of mine. “Hey, Ryder.”
Max standing beside me went utterly still.
“You look sinful as usual,” he drawled, in his typical flirty way. He gave me a quick hug, his eyes gleaming. And the inevitable followed. His hands slid down to stroke my hips.
Sighing, I stepped back.
“Why didn’t you tell me you’d changed your mind about coming to The Grave? I could have picked you up.”
“It was last minute. I’m with Ray and some friends,” I evaded.
“No probs.” He shrugged it off. “I’ll join you for a while.”
“What about your friends?” I asked dismayed, aware of Max watching me with that unreadable gaze of his.
Ryder glanced back at his clique. Another shrug. “I’ll catch up with them later.”
I didn’t want to appear rude to a former client, so I nodded. Ray rolled her eyes. “Come on, Max.”
Sidestepping me, he walked off with my sister. I fought to shut off a creeping emptiness I shouldn’t feel. This wasn’t a date with Max. I was here because Ray had asked me. Ryder was a nice enough guy, but still, I couldn’t stop myself from searching the crowd near the entrance. Max was easy to spot, being so tall, his wide, leather-clad shoulders a dark contrast to his golden looks. A dark-haired guy came up to him, a knuckle-pound followed.
“Ready, doll?” Ryder asked.
No, I wasn’t. My stomach heaved, but I nodded. In a daze, I walked in with Ryder, was carded, and entered the noisy club where I lost sight of Max.
Strobe lights danced like colorful fireflies all over the jittering dancers we passed. The blaring music made talking impossible, but it didn’t stop Ryder. “No doubt they’ll finally see what a great asset I am instead of alw
ays signing on that idiot, Titus…” His words drifted to me. It was probably some modeling gig he talked of, one I had no interest in. He leaned in, his hot, liquor-laced breath grazing my neck. “Hey, we don’t have to sit with your friends. We’ll just find a nice cozy corner…”
Whatever Ryder thought was happening between us, wasn’t. I tuned him out. With the place choked with people, it was difficult to put even an inch between us.
We neared the lounge area adjacent to the crowded dance floor, the ear-splitting Goth music thankfully dropping a notch. I searched for Ray, but it wasn’t my sister or the others at the far end of the room who caught my attention. As if there were a direct link between us, Max looked up, wearing his patented inscrutable expression.
He stood on the other side of a table, talking to a big-sized guy. He shrugged off his leather jacket and dropped it on the chair next to him. Absently, he pushed the sleeves of his black Henley to his elbows, revealing his strong, inked forearms. Even though he appeared to listen to whatever the big guy said, his gaze shifted to Ryder, then back to me as we neared them.
I lowered to the chair beside Ray, wishing my stomach would stop feeling as if it wanted to escape me. The dark-haired guy I’d seen earlier appeared and said something to Max. Finally, he looked away, and I could breathe again.
“Ila, I got you a drink—well, Max did,” Ray said, pushing a tall glass toward me. “Ryder, your white wine spritzer.”
“Ray, sweetheart,” Ryder grimaced, sitting next to me, “I don’t do girlie drinks.” He summoned a passing waiter and gave his order.
“Oh, well. More for me.” Smirking, Ray sipped the spritzer.
She introduced us to the rest of the group as they took their seats. “That’s War,” she pointed to the big guy with deep blue eyes. “The hockey player—and in everything else, too.” War snorted but grinned. The one she introduced as Jack stared at me with cool, ice-gray eyes. Both merely nodded at Ryder.
Max had said nothing during the intro, pulling at the label on his beer. He looked up when Ray introduced him, and his unreadable green eyes snared me.
Hey,” Ryder greeted, sliding his arm over my shoulder. At the sudden fury in Max’s gaze, my breath caught. I sat forward and wrapped my fingers around my glass. Ryder’s arm slid off me.
This evening was turning out all wrong. And then it just got worse.
A striking brunette hugged Jack then turned to Max. She touched his biceps, and when he glanced at her, and smiled, I felt like someone had hit me in the stomach. She leaned in and said something to him. He nodded, and without a backwards look, followed her.
The pain that followed made it hard to breathe.
You told Max there couldn’t be anything between you, my conscience slapped me upside the head. He was free to do whatever he wanted with whomever he wanted.
I grabbed my drink and gulped more, searching for a way to ease this ache.
Ryder finished his drink and leaned closer. “C’mon, doll. One dance before I leave.”
I nodded. As I pushed my way to the crowded dance floor, I refused to look for Max. With the place being packed and the laser light bouncing all over the jittering bodies, I couldn’t see much anyway. Besides, he was with someone else, wasn’t he?
I tried to find solace in the dark music, in dancing, but there was barely any space to move, dropping me deeper into despair.
When the song changed to some slow number, Ryder immediately drew me close, sliding his palms to my waist then down to my bottom. I pushed his hands away. He leaned closer, his hot, alcoholic breath making my stomach roil. “Let’s ditch this place, doll.”
I looked into his smiling dark eyes, and with his hands on me and bodies pressing us closer, the very air suffocated me. What was I doing here?
Running from my fears, from Max, I was now with a guy who thought I was ready for a quick bang. And Max was with some slanky.
Swallowing hard, I shook my head. I couldn’t continue this farce. “I’m sorry, Ryder. I can’t do this. I have to go.”
He stared at me for a second then shrugged and turned his attention to the skimpily-dressed blonde dancing near us.
I pushed through the packed bodies and came to a grinding halt near the edge of the dance floor. The blood drained from my head.
Max had his arms around the brunette, he spoke to her, but she shook her head, her expression one of frustration. A spasm of pain pierced my chest and spread like a flood at the intimate scene.
Max looked up. His gaze locked on me.
I pivoted and shoved through the dancers. I hurried to our table, grabbed my purse and coat. “Ray,” I touched my sister’s shoulder, pulling her attention away from her friends. “I’m leaving.”
“Why? What happened?” Her eyes widened in worry, and then they narrowed in ire. “Did Ryder do something?”
Helpless to summon a smile to reassure her, I simply shook my head. “No, he didn’t. I made a mistake letting Ryder accompany us. I’m going home.”
Tears blurring my sight and feeling as if the walls were closing in on me, I pushed my way through the masses to the exit. And rushed out into the cool night, breathing hard. Nothing helped. I swiped at my damp eyes and hailed a cab. A hand grasped my wrist.
I wheeled around, and my heart crashed against my ribs. Max. His expression shuttered, mouth in a tight line. Without a word, he pulled me along with him.
My protest died in my throat. What would be the point? Because I could no longer bear this—whatever this was that left me feeling as if I were bleeding inside.
He headed into the dimly lit alley. Stopping near his SUV, he let me go and folded his arms. “What exactly did you hope to prove by being with that asshole who was mauling you?”
“You’re one to talk—” I tried to breathe through my hurt. “What about that bimbo who was plastered to you?”
He cut me a brooding look. “She’s Jack’s married sister, who’s going through a difficult time. She wanted to dance, so I did. It was the only way I could keep from punching that dickhead you were with.”
Realizing what I’d revealed in my hurt, I wrapped my arms around my waist, trying to hold myself together. I couldn’t pretend whatever this was between us didn’t exist any longer. “Max, you and me, we can’t—I can’t.”
“Why? What is so wrong with us being together? Why do you fight it?”
“Because I’m scared. Because I know it’s the chase you want, the thrill of the catch. When you have it and realize it’s not as exhilarating as you thought, you’ll be off to someone new. Someone more exciting.”
For a second, Max stared at me as if I’d sprouted another head. “You think I’d do that?” Disbelief laced his tone.
“Men do. It takes a rare kind of man to stay faithful. Sadly, in this day and age, they are an extinct species, no matter what facade they present.”
His gaze drifted over my face, his eyes narrowed in understanding. “What did your ex do to you, Logan?”
Exhaustion weighing me down, I shook my head and turned away. “It doesn’t matter. I need to go.”
Max snagged my wrist, stopping me. “It matters to me. Tell me.”
Why was he making this so hard? Wanting me to open up and share painful memories? Men like my ex and Ryder only confirmed my beliefs. And Max? He had years to go before he even reached the point where I was—hell, what point? I no longer had any hope, or believed in love. Devyn had killed everything—every belief, every dream I ever had. He’d left me broken.
“Dammit, Logan, talk to me.”
“You want to know?” I snapped, giving him a pained glare. “Fine. The man I was supposed to spend the rest of my life with showed me what an idealistic world I lived in when I caught him fucking someone else, on the desk I bought for him—is that reason enough?”
He stilled for a second then his jaw hardened. “So you think I’ll cheat?”
“I don’t know what you’ll do,” I whispered, feeling as if a huge hand were squeezing my c
hest as I relived my nightmare of that night.
I looked away so I could tell the sordid tale without breaking down. “I-I canceled another date because of a deadline at work. He was furious. Wracked with guilt, I decided to surprise him. Instead, I was the one surprised. I found him—them—going at it right in his study.”
“He’s a prick who didn’t deserve you,” Max said quietly. “I’m sorry you got hurt. But not every guy’s like him.”
My wet gaze met his. “Don’t you get it? You’re twenty-one—”
“It’s just a damn number.”
I ignored that. “I was sixteen, a freshman when I met Devyn. He was a senior and captain of the swim team. Attractive, popular, he was the guy every girl wanted to date. But he came after me—the quiet, shy girl who’d rather paint or read—in single-minded pursuit. I fell hard. It seems I lived in a fool’s world, thinking we’d be together forever. But I wasn’t enough, wasn’t exciting or adventurous enough in bed”—the bitter words fell out of me—“but then what did I know about sex? He was my only lover.” I pulled in a deep, pained breath and said what I had to. “You’re young, Max. If we let this thing happen, a few months from now, you’ll grow bored and go looking for someone new to shake up your world.”
“Like that cheating prick?” His jaw hardened. “So you won’t even give me a chance?”
I couldn’t lie. “Even if I do, it’ll just be sex between us. I won’t let myself fall in love again.”
He hesitated, seeming to change his mind about whatever he wanted to say. A slow nod followed. “I see.”
“I won’t,” I insisted. “Love is not for me.”
It was too painful. Messy. Like a double-edged sword, beautiful and shiny at first, until it ran you through and left you bleeding.
“Good.” He closed the small distance between us. “With no chance of that happening, you’ll have nothing to fear. Right?”
I didn’t know if this was the best side of him or the worst—this assessing part of him—as if he knew something I didn’t. I only understood that every time I saw him, I sank deeper into the charisma that was Max.
Breathless (Players to Men) Page 11