His green eyes finally lost their hard edge. “What are the rates for something like this?”
Frowning, I filled the henna cone with the thinned, gooey, green-brown paste. “It’s a fair, so we try to keep it affordable. It starts off at five dollars for something simple. Anything more intricate and, of course, the price goes up since it takes time.”
He dropped a twenty on the table, held out his forearm. “Do me.”
Startled, I looked up from tying the cone. “You sure?”
“I trust you.”
Instantly, I lowered my gaze, not wanting to read too much into his words. “Sit.”
Dropping down on the chair opposite me, he shifted so his thighs caged mine and rested his forearm on the table. I studied the many tattoos he sported. The spot near his wrist was smooth, unmarred skin. I grasped his thick forearm and cleaned it with disinfectant then picked up the cone.
“Aren’t you going to draw a guideline or something?” he asked.
Smiling, I cast him a teasing look. “I thought you trusted me?”
At his intense stare, one that made my tummy dip like a girl with her first crush, I rushed on. “These are mostly abstract designs. I usually make them up as I go along. I like it that way, so no two designs are the same. Those snapshots pinned there”—I waved to the pics behind me—“are ones I did a couple of years ago.”
Removing the pin from the cone, I set it aside and worked fast and efficiently, wiping the tip with a tissue every few seconds to keep the lines fluid. Soon, a design with a few swirls took form. When I finally finished, I sat back, struggling to bite off my smile.
The corners of his mouth twitched. “Now what?”
“Now you let it dry. Make sure it doesn’t smear, or all will be lost.”
He nodded, still staring at the swirly flourish I’d done on his forearm. “Ink is so much easier.”
“And painful,” I pointed out.
He looked up and just shook his head.
A group of fourteen-year-olds stopped at the stall. Max moved to sit next to me on the bench.
“Hi.” I smiled at the redheaded girl. “What can I do for you?”
The teen cast a flirty look at Max, who didn’t notice. He studied his own henna artwork.
“Something on my lower back—a butterfly.” She twisted and pulled her shorts a tad lower.
I sighed at the thong revealed, no doubt who her intended target was. “It’s just hands, forearms, and calves, I’m afraid.”
“Bummer.” The girl rolled her big gray eyes. “Okay, ring finger. I want a sexy design that trails to my wrist.” She took the seat opposite me. As I prepped the girl’s hand, Max’s cell beeped.
He pulled it out of his pocket, glanced at it, and rose. “Logan, I have to—” He broke off, finally realizing he was the center of attention for a bunch of teen girls. His gaze came back to me. “What time do you finish here?”
“At two. Then I’m helping Ray for an hour or so, covering for one of the girls who’s off, sick.”
“Okay, I’ll see you there. I’m not sure how long this will take. Your father needs help on one of the stalls. A slat or something broke.”
I picked up the lemon and sugar spray I’d prepared, grasped his arm, and sprayed a layer over the henna to help it stain better. Then met his gaze. “About my dad. He’s really protective. If he gives you a hard time—”
“He just wants to make sure you’re safe with me.” Max brushed it off. “I can handle that… On second thought, if I’m not back by noon, come save me.”
At his teasing, and that he would do this because of me, my heart swelled, unable to stop the emotions crowding me.
He turned to leave, then pivoted. “Forgot something really important.”
Frowning, I set the spray on the table. He drew me to my feet and put his mouth on mine. I expected a quick kiss. I was wrong. He slid one arm around my waist, holding me close, his mouth adding a little more pressure to mine.
“Max,” I mumbled against his lips, “people are watching—”
“Don’t care. Kiss me, dancing girl. This could be my very last kiss. I’m facing the lion in a few minutes.”
Laughter spilled free. He smiled. I was utterly helpless to resist him, and I pressed my mouth to his. Instantly, he deepened the kiss, tasting and seeking more. Lost in him, I forgot our audience.
When he finally let me go, I dropped to the bench in a daze and watched Max stride off.
Tall and mouthwateringly sexy, his tatts added to the edge of dangerous draw surrounding him. And with his t-shirt delineating his shoulders and chest, the stares he collected as he disappeared into the crowd weren’t surprising.
I turned and realized I wasn’t the only one with a dreamy expression.
“When I’m older, I want a guy just like him,” one of the girls said with a sigh.
Chapter Eleven
Ila
The noise around me barely made any impression as I searched the crowd from my high seat in the Dunk Tank. The morning had flown by, and the hour helping Ray was almost up, too.
Thankfully, no one had managed to dunk me yet. Even if they did, at least I had on my floral board shorts and a tank top Ray had brought along for this venture.
The warm sun beating down on me, I swung my legs, my mind on Max. He’d stopped by once at my stall, but I’d been busy, and it appeared my father had roped him in to help for a few hours.
With a small grin, I wondered what he thought of me writing, “Logan” on his arm. He seemed more amused than anything, probably was thankful it wasn’t permanent.
Voices around the tank rose. A group of pubescent schoolboys was trying to score and tip me off my perch into the water. No doubt they wanted to see more of me, and drenched was the way to go. Unlike Ray, I didn’t have a bikini top beneath my tee, just my bra. Hopefully, Ray would be back before someone scored a direct hit.
A dark-haired boy grinned and blew me a kiss. I stuck out my tongue at him and didn’t care I was too old for that childish gesture. It was fun, and I hadn’t done anything like this in forever. I’d been too wrapped up in Devyn, and he was far too possessive, didn’t like me talking to guys, no matter the age. So this felt good…liberating.
The teen grinned and pitched the ball hard. Missed. “Dammit! So close.”
Laughing, I glanced at the far side. A familiar figure walked toward me with an easy gait that was utterly sexy and uniquely his. Even with the distance, the heat in his gaze scorched me—the seat under me shuddered and gave way.
Oh. Shit! With raucous yells of excitement and whooping from the boys, my own shriek was lost amidst theirs. I fell into the cool water of the makeshift pool.
Spluttering, I surfaced and wiped the water from my eyes. By the time I’d climbed out, Max was there. He reached up, hands on my waist, and lifted me down as if I weighed no more than fluff in my drenched clothes. “You okay?”
With a wry smile, I nodded, shoving my wet hair away from my face. “Yeah, I’m fine.”
He gave me a quick kiss. “You’re great, you know that?”
“Aww, c’mon!” A whiny voice that sounded like he had a frog lodged in his throat protested. “I tipped her over. The least I deserve is a kiss. The jock did nothing but help her out.”
I glanced at the pale-skinned, redheaded boy, and snorted.
“She’s my girl,” Max said. “Only I get to kiss her.” At his cool stare, the boys laughed, raising their hands in peace before they shuffled off.
Ray hurried toward us, passing the boys, her face flushed from the exertion. Hastily, I stepped away from Max. I wanted her to hear about us from me, not flaunt our relationship in her face. She drew to a screeching halt—darn, she’d seen us—her gaze shifted between Max and me.
“Of course, dammit! How stupid of me.”
My face heated. “Ray, let me explain—”
“Sis, it’s cool.” Her eyebrow rose as Max drew me protectively to his side, then she shook her head wryly.
“So that lover-like dance last night wasn’t play-acting, huh?”
“No,” Max answered.
“It looked real enough. And you aren’t that good an actor, Max,” she retorted. “I was too mad at Simi to pay much attention to you two. It makes sense now, all those questions you bugged me with when you first met her…damn!” Then warm hazel eyes met mine. “I’m really happy to see you finally looking at another guy, even if it is his ugly face. But Max—” She pinned him with a gimlet glare.
“Yeah, yeah, I recall the threat,” he drawled, one corner of his mouth tipping up, his fingers stroking my waist.
I inhaled a deep breath of relief, grateful that Ray had accepted us as a couple.
Max turned to me. “So, our afternoon’s free. What do you want to do?”
I raked back my wet hair. “Give me a minute, I want to get out of these wet things.”
After I’d changed into my dry clothes again, sans bra, we meandered the pathways of the fair, stopping at stalls to admire the goods on display. Spying one with trinkets, bracelets, and stuff, I dragged Max over because I loved little knick-knacks like that. After a little browsing, I selected a black leather plaited bracelet with Max’s initial woven in it for him.
“No, not that one.” He skimmed through them, dropped the M down and took the L and let me fasten it on his wrist. At another stall that held jewelry made from all kinds of stones—semi-precious to a few rare ones, he bought a pair of tiger-eye stone earrings—small oval drops that hooked into the earlobe. I lifted my eyebrow in question.
“They remind me of your eyes, fiery and dangerous when you’re riled,” he said with a hint of a smile.
“I’m not that bad.”
“No, you’re difficult...” I scowled. His smile deepened. “Stubborn, and beautiful.” He moved my hair aside, put them on for me then pressed his lips to my nape.
A shudder skated through me. He was making it so hard to keep this relationship in focus. I looked up and became aware of the stall owner’s stare. I’d avoided the fair last year because I didn’t want to be on the receiving end of people’s pity. Guess I couldn’t avoid it now either.
“They know you?” Max asked, his fingers stroking my neck after he’d finished putting on the other earring.
“Some. But you’re more noticeable than me,” I teased. Fishing in my pockets for my hairclip, I fastened my damp hair into a haphazard topknot and secured it. “They’re probably wondering what you’re doing with me?”
He shot me that rare killer smile that made me weak in the knees. “More like wondering how in the hell I got so lucky.”
“What? Snagging an older woman?”
“Logan, stop.” He grasped my upper arms, holding me still. I bit my lip at the unyielding look in his eyes. “Get over that age thing, it was never an issue with me. When I first saw you, I thought you were in university, too.” Then he smirked. “Just think, fifty years from now, you’ll be ever so grateful.”
My heart gave a painful lurch. He was talking about something permanent. But I refused to hope because then I’d start planning and looking forward to things that would just hurt when he left.
When I remained silent, Max’s lips tightened for a brief second. Then, lacing our fingers, he tugged me along with him. At the surge of people leaving the Castle of Doom, Max pulled off to the side. Sliding his arms around my waist, he drew me close and kept us away from the rush of evacuating people. It just made me more aware of him. Of the hard muscled wall of his front against my back.
The warm sun glinted off the fine blond hairs on his tanned forearms. And there, amidst the striking ink, a part of my name was visible on his inner arm, stained a deep red and very legible even with all the fancy swirls.
I stared at it in surprise then turned his arm for a better look. “How did you get it darkened so fast—the henna didn’t smear?”
“Your dad told me a blow torch would dry it fast. So, yeah, heat worked.”
“My dad did what?” My jaw dropped in shock. I looked at his arm again and the smooth, paler skin with my name on it, and scowled. “Very funny.”
His chest rumbled with laughter. He kissed my nape. “Someone had a hair dryer in one of the stalls. It helped a great deal.”
I blinked, trying to clear my misty gaze, and I knew then that Dad liked Max. Devyn, he’d merely tolerated because I loved him, or so I’d thought.
“Ila?”
At that voice, my heart lurched, and my stomach dropped. Think of the devil, and he took form.
Devyn pushed his shades to his head and sauntered over, his gaze gliding over me in a way I knew far too well—possessively—then came back up to meet mine.
I supposed bumping into him was inevitable since he still lived in the area and ran the family restaurant. As much as I preferred not seeing him, I refused to run.
A few inches shorter than Max, with neatly cut dark hair and brown eyes, he looked the same. Attractive, elegant as usual, dressed in khaki slacks and a navy button-down shirt—no visible stains of cheating on him. Pity.
“Ila,” he said again. “I’d hoped you would be here.”
“Devyn,” I responded coolly. And before he thought this would be a happy reunion, I introduced the one person who was becoming important to me. “This is Max—”
“Do you mind giving us a moment?” He tossed Max’s way, barely sparing him a glance, and stepped closer. “Could we talk, Ila? Please?”
Before Devyn could touch me, Max moved to my side. His expression cool, yet his hand gently stroked my back. Steady. Supportive. “I’m Maxwell Meade-Sinclair. Whatever you have to say, make it fast. You’re interrupting our date.”
Devyn stilled as if in shock. His gaze darted to Max, his mouth thinned before he refocused on me. “Ila, I’m sorry about…”—he cut Max a frustrated glare—“everything. When you have a moment, call me.”
“You’ve said your piece, now leave,” Max said.
I would never call him. I hadn’t returned any of his calls or texts since that day. Why did he think I would now? When I remained silent, tight-lipped, Devyn stalked off.
“That’s the asshole who cheated on you.”
It wasn’t a question, but I nodded. Seeing Devyn again… Old memories—images of seeing him and Simi in the study—returned like a blade piercing my stomach…
“Logan?”
At Max’s sharp tone, I looked up blankly, then bit my lip, hating that he’d seen my composure fracture. I lowered my head, but he palmed my face and brought my gaze back to his.
Despite the anger there, his touch was gentle. “Don’t give the bastard the satisfaction of seeing you hurting. You stood up to that woman in the pub, you can get past this, too.”
“I know. It’s just the shock of seeing him again and remembering it all,” I whispered. “I can still see them together…”
“Don’t let the past win, Logan.” Intense green eyes held mine. “I’m here now. All you have to do is take my hand, and we’ll find a way out of this nightmare together.”
He wanted me to trust him. God, I longed to, but I’d done that once with another, and it had left me broken.
Max, however, didn’t push for a response because I guess, deep down, he realized my fear. He simply pressed his lips to my brow and took my hand again. “C’mon, dancing girl, let’s go have fun. It’s too nice a day to let crap ruin it.”
As we walked, I sifted through what I was feeling. Despite being thrown off guard by seeing Devyn again, I understood that the pain and hurt were more from a faded memory, one I’d hung onto. What Simi had revealed last night—whether she and Devyn were banging each other for months, or not—no longer mattered.
As Max led me to the far side of the massive grounds, I studied his handsome profile, the straight nose, the hard, sculptured jaw, and the small scar there, and those cool, green eyes that didn’t miss a thing. Prickles danced down my arms as the truth hit me. If I hadn’t caught Devyn with his pants down, I wouldn’t be here with
Max. I’d probably be married and trying to live up to Devyn’s expectations…while he continued his affair.
Suddenly, I was so grateful. No matter the pain and hurt I’d lived through, here was where I wanted to be. With Max. Where the future led, I had no idea. Yes, I was scared, but my trust issues were something I had to work through on my own.
Lost in my thoughts, I didn’t pay much attention when we joined a queue. Max paid the entrance fees. The next minute, he slipped a bulging cotton satchel crosswise over my shoulder to lie against my opposite hip. Frowning, I glanced around, and at the paint-soaked grinning bunch of teens leaving the makeshift paintball arena, I hastily stepped back. “Oh, no—no way, Max. I’m not going in there.”
“Scared?” He cocked a provocative eyebrow. “Just think, here’s your chance to bash me over the head for coming after you, not giving you the chance to say no.”
Bash him? I wanted to yank him down and kiss him for standing up for me, for making me see so clearly. I rolled my eyes. “You had every intention of getting your way.”
Smirking, he slung on his own satchel filled with paint-filled balloons over his shoulder. “True. Here are the rules, dancing girl. The one with the most balloons and paint on them loses.”
“And the penalty is?”
A wicked grin shaped his mouth, as if I’d already lost. “I’ll think of something later. What’s yours?”
“I’ll let you know then, too.” I snuck a hand into my satchel, grabbed a balloon, and slammed him square in the chest. It popped. Blue paint ran down his gray shirt. Laughing, I danced back.
He looked up. “Oh, Logan, you’re in so much trouble.”
Grabbing a balloon from his bag, he came after me. With a squeak, I spun around and ran, cutting left and hiding behind a huge bale of hay. Max’s balloon made contact with the straws, splattering all over the hay and sprinkling me with green blobs. Water paint. Thank God. At least it would wash off easily.
Crouching and keeping low, I ducked behind another bale, pulled out a balloon, and circled the haystack—and came face to face with a smirking Max.
Breathless (Players to Men) Page 16