“You don’t agree.”
I looked up. “What?”
“You think I should go to Carmel?”
A sigh escaped me. Slowly, I set my spoon down. “It’s not about what I think, Max. There are some things in life we cannot avoid forever. It was hard for me to go to the fair, knowing I’d have to face my past, but I realized it had to be done. But you were there, and made it easier for me.”
More silence followed.
Maybe because my parents loved me, I wanted that for him, too. More, I saw how much this was destroying him. “Max, if it were me, I’d try.”
He cut me a dark look. “Is that my penalty?”
Confused, I stared at him. “What?”
“At the paintball arena, you asked what the loser penalty was?”
“Max, that was for fun, this is serious.”
“If you’re not using your free pass to get me to do what you want—”
“I’m not going to do that. Max…” I searched his implacable features. “Don’t you want to go?”
He finished his cereal, then eyed me for a long, contemplative moment. “Fine, but you’re coming with me.”
Uh-oh. I eyed him warily. Meet his family—his father? The man who blamed Max for his mother’s death? My first instinct was to say no, but Max had been there for me when I needed him, and he’d braved my Dad. “All right.”
He gave a terse nod. “What’s your schedule for today?”
“I’m going to the store for a few hours, then I’ll work at home. Oh, I’ve been meaning to tell you, I have more space in my studio, you can set up your keyboard there.”
“I’ll only be in your way.” A smile. “Then you’ll want to throw me out of the house after hearing the same piece played a million times.”
“You won’t. Besides, I usually work at home in the afternoons, and when I paint alone, I normally have my earphones on. Since I know you work with your headphones on, it shouldn’t be a problem, right?”
The smile lingered. His gaze thoughtful. “On one condition. You show me your work, the ones you paint for yourself, and I’ll think about it.”
“I don’t know why you want to see those,” I grumbled. “They aren’t any good. I wasn’t in a good place when I did them—”
“Logan.”
Just my name, and I sighed. “Fine. If you insist.”
I led the way into my studio, but Max hovered in the doorway, his gaze flicking to the futon. The last time he’d been in here was when he’d found out that I’d been painting a guy naked and had lost it. Not wanting that to ruin the moment, I grasped his hand and tugged him inside.
“Go on, look.” My stomach knotting, I pointed to several paintings stacked to one side and concealed with a sheet. I’d never shown them anyone.
He walked over. Pulling out a few of my covered canvases, he leaned them against the wall, then stood back. Nothing showed on his face as he studied each one.
I’d painted them during my turmoil and breakup. So the usually pretty, scenic places in San Francisco had taken on a dark, gloomy overtone, and some looked downright haunting. Yup, Wes Craven would probably love it for a scene setting for one of his movies or something. I rubbed my damp palms down my jeans and waited.
“Hmmm, never seen the city in this light before,” Max said, his gaze contemplative.
“Yeah, well… Told you it wasn’t any good.” Slipping past him, I hastily restacked the paintings and covered them again.
He watched me for a second. Didn’t say anything. Then, “How about we go out to dinner this evening?”
I glanced at him. “Okay.” And recalled his furtive smile from last night when I’d asked him about playing for his finals. It troubled me. I didn’t want him to get caught up in another scandal. “Uh, Max, about your finals?”
“Don’t worry about it.”
My stomach wound tighter than a spring at his words. “Please tell me you aren’t planning something reckless.”
He glanced my way and gave me one of those sly, sexy damn smiles I wanted to kiss right off his face—ack!
“You’ll give yourself an ulcer stressing. All’s good. C’mon, I’ll drop you off at work.”
As I followed him out to the Jeep, my uneasiness increased. Why did his words sound so ominous?
***
Later that afternoon, while I painted, Max worked on his music. He’d moved the keyboard to the studio, and I regretted that it wasn’t his baby grand. I’d love to see him play that.
But he had on his headphones so I couldn’t hear what he worked on anyway. He wore a faraway expression as his fingers lightly ran over the keys and he wrote things on his sheet. Strands of dark blond hair lay on his brow, and my fingers itched to swipe them back, but that would just break his concentration. Instead, I watched him.
How he had come to mean so much to me in a few short weeks, I still had no idea.
My cell rang, breaking the spell. Absently, I hit both answer and the speaker at once and started painting again. “Hello?”
“Ila, I’m back in the States for a week. Can you fit me in?”
At Titus’s voice, I cut Max a quick look. As if sensing my gaze, he looked up before I could take Titus off speaker. Whatever he’d seen on my face, he pulled off his headphones, eyes questioning.
Darn. I shook my head and answered Titus. “How about tomorrow?”
“No, sweet…” he sighed, taking me by surprise at the endearment, but then the artsy types rolled that way.
Max’s eyes narrowed.
“I have engagements straight through, and just two evenings off,” Titus said. “Tonight, and I’ll check my diary for the other.”
A time arranged, I ended the call and lifted a shoulder helplessly at Max. “I’m sorry.”
He didn’t say a word. Just went back to his work.
Sighing, I resumed mine.
At ten minutes to five, Max rose. “I’m going to Jack’s.”
I jerked to my feet. “But I thought we were going out to dinner? I’ll only be a few hours with Titus.”
A tick pulsed hard on his rigid jaw. “Logan, if I stay, I’ll probably hurt him and ruin things between us. It’s best I’m out of the way. I’ll see you later.”
Watching him walk away, my stomach hurt. I lowered to the stool, wishing this evening was already over.
Titus arrived a few minutes later. Normally, I painted for a few hours straight when with a client and didn’t feel the passage of time—now, it felt like I was walking up Pine with a boulder shackled to each ankle as I worked.
After Titus left, I paced the living room, checking the street, but there was no sign of Max. Heart heavy, I finally went to bed.
It was long past midnight when I heard the front door squeak open. I glanced at the neon-lit time on the nightstand mocking me at the lateness of the hour. 1:06 a.m. Angry and hurt, and knowing about the parties his friend held, I listened for his footsteps on the stairs. But only silence answered me.
My anxiety growing, I slid off the bed and made my way downstairs. I found him seated on the couch in the dark.
“Max?” I switched on the lamp on a side table. His head was tilted back, eyes shut.
“You shouldn’t have waited up for me.”
The resigned tone of his voice hit me hard, and the truth clamped my chest like a vise. He was hurting because of me—because of the work I did. Caught in a hard place… God knew I didn’t want to paint nudes, but I didn’t have many choices. I sat beside Max, put my hand on his clenched one, and struggled to find the words to explain, especially considering I’d told him we were doing okay financially. “I’m sorry. I know you hate it, but it will be over in a few days.”
Those green eyes flicked to me. “You could give him back his check.”
Oh. Jesus. “I can’t.”
“What do you mean can’t…?” Then his entire body stilled. Eyes narrowed. “Or, is it that you won’t? Is money that important to you, Logan?” he asked, stony now.
“Goddammit!” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “I hate that you see him naked and that he gets a fucking hard-on. Christ. It’s all I could see in my head the entire evening.” His voice filled with torment. “It’s pure torture, Logan. I can’t—” He broke off. “What do you mean ‘right now?’”
“Because I don’t have the check. I gave it to my father.”
Slowly, he sat up. “Why?”
I stared at my laced fingers. “I told you about Mom’s strokes. The bills piled up and were astronomical. Insurance covered some, but we have to pay the rest. Dad works from home, so he’s close because she cannot be alone, and…”
“And a caregiver costs money,” he said quietly.
I nodded. “So everything I do, I send half the money home.” I blinked the tears away. “With Ray still in school, it’s hard. But she does what she can, too.”
Max reached out and stroked my cheek. “Let me help, Logan—”
“Thank you, but no.” I gave him a wan smile. “We’ll be okay. It will just take some time... I must seem selfish to you not to care about my mom, to live here when they need me—”
He took my hands in his, his thumb caressing my skin. “You aren’t selfish, baby. You were hurting—your heart was broken.”
“No, you don’t know, there’s more. When Devyn and I broke up, I-I quit my job, stayed home for a while to look after Mom. I managed at first because I was so angry with him, then the anger died, and pain and despair took over. It got so bad…”
I struggled to swallow past the lump in my throat and not let the tears fall. “With me in that state, it wasn’t good for Mom’s recovery. She started to get agitated. Aunt Mary insisted that I leave Millbrae. She got me the job at Kate’s, and that’s where I met my landlady, Mrs. Renner. She owns this place”—I waved my hand around the apartment—“she needed a short-term tenant, and offered me the place at minimal rent. I took over and started painting again. Mrs. Renner saw my work and asked me to do her portrait. When she paid me, I realized I could help Dad financially.”
Max pulled me onto his lap and wrapped his arms around me. “And I acted like a jealous prick. Truth is, I can’t stomach the thought of him near you in that way.”
I pulled back, as much as his arms allowed. “I don’t see Titus like that. He’s work. Only you get me hot with just a look, a smile. No one but you.”
He lowered his brow to mine. “I want you, Logan, so bad—I want everything that is you. I want to be the one that heals the shattered pieces of your heart and fills it with love and warmth. God knows you do that for me.”
My stomach tensed at his words. I whispered, “Max?”
He pressed his lips on mine, silencing my question. Why did I get the feeling, he wanted to say more, then changed his mind? And his kiss was nothing like his usual seductive ones, but soft and overwhelmingly tender as he picked me up and strode upstairs…
***
Glad the workday was over, I collected my satchel and coat from the staff room in the back, when my cell beeped with a text message. Praying it wasn’t Devyn, I glanced at the display and smiled. Max. I was so thankful I had no more secrets and had told him everything last night. I opened his text.
Logan, can’t make it to pick you up. Have an urgent errand. I’ll see you later.
Frowning, I headed out. Kate stepped out of her office. She picked up a dress that had fallen to the floor, tossed it to the sales clerk, and snapped, “Sort out this rail.”
I’d paused near the cashier’s counter to pull on my coat. Kate stopped near me, studying the half-torso there I’d dressed in a casual blouse and neck chains. Then glanced at me. “Keep your heart barred, sugar. It’s far better than having some man use you.”
I blinked in surprise. I’d heard the rumors about the rich guy she’d walked away from, who’d wanted her to be his mistress instead of his wife after seven years together and had married someone more befitting his social standing.
“I saw how you looked at him,” she said. “You can’t trust a man.”
Was that why she’d walked away from Pierre? Before her heart got involved?
There was no way I could refute what she said when I’d had my own heart broken not so long ago. So I merely said goodbye and headed for the exit. I felt sorry for Kate, I really did.
Yet I couldn’t stop the shiver of unease from skating over me as I rode the bus home, or stop the thoughts from creeping in. Max was young, and no matter his feud with his father, would he eventually walk away to find a woman from his social background? My stomach knotted. I really didn’t want to have all these depressing thoughts when I was finally starting to feel happy again. I shut them off and entered my silent apartment. Ray must have already left for her Wednesday afternoon class.
Dropping my bag and coat on the foyer table, I made my way to the kitchen, needing a warm drink to ease the chill inside me. I put milk to boil, my thoughts sliding back to Max. What was the “urgent errand” he had to take care of?
As the creamy liquid started to heat, I added three tablespoons of Milo to a mug and made my drink when footsteps thudded down the wooden stairs, sounding as if a herd of elephants was on a stampede.
“Bye, sis!” Ray yelled. “I’m gonna be so late for classes. See ya later.”
“Wait—wait!” I hurried into the living room, careful not to spill my drink. “Why are you late when your classes start at noon?”
She scrunched her face, blowing wisps of pink-streaked ebony bangs from her eyes. “I, er, finished late last night, then went over to Denise’s to work on my assignments”—she dumped papers and files into her knapsack—“got in late this morning and overslept.”
“You should try dating, a great stress reliever,” I deadpanned, following her to the door.
“Ugh, no…” A grimace crossed her face. She grabbed her jacket and knapsack, I grabbed her arm, stopping her. “Ray, what’s going on with you?”
She sighed. “I’m covering for Petra. She’s sick and can’t afford to lose her job, since she has a baby to take care off.”
I knew Petra was one of Ray’s friends, and a single mother. “So why are you looking so frazzled? What kind of job is this?”
She hesitated and that had all my alarm bells ringing. “Ray?” I narrowed my gaze, going all big sister on her.
“You can’t yell, okay? She’s an escort.”
“Are you crazy!” I yelled at her.
She winced, then protested, “It’s not like that. It’s just accompanying men too busy for a social life to whatever social event they need a date for. No sex,” she hastily added.
“Then explain the ‘ugh’ from earlier to me?”
“The client tried to kiss me.”
“God, Ray!” I rubbed my face, unable to believe what I was hearing.
“It’s not my job, Ila, but Petra’s. She needs the money.”
Jesus! Her heart was too damn soft and giving. I just hope it didn’t land her in trouble.
“So you won’t be doing it again?” I demanded.
She grinned now. “Nah. Not my thing. It’s over now.”
Then Ray disappeared like a whirlwind, the door slamming shut behind her.
I stopped at the window, watching her as she hurried toward the bus stop. So damn grateful the escort thing was over.
Ray pushed herself too hard and avoided relationships like it was a dreaded disease… She’d dated while in high school, and had one semi-serious relationship, then Travis had moved.
A black Porsche slid to a halt in front of the apartment and double-parked, distracting me from my thoughts. Taking another sip of my chocolatey drink, I watched the tall, strikingly handsome, dark-haired guy jogging up the front steps. I would have thought he was headed for my neighbor’s, except I knew him.
Jack Griffin. Max’s friend.
&nb
sp; I set my mug on the sideboard as the expected rap on the wood sounded. I opened the door. “Hello, Jack.”
Ice-gray eyes skimmed over me in one fast glide.
Huh? Why was he checking out my clothes? I liked my claret-hued jersey knit dress and knee-high black boots. I arched an eyebrow. “Is there a problem?”
“You're dressed right for where we’re going. C’mon,” he said, sprinting back for his Porsche.
The only reason Jack would be here—crap! “Wait-wait, what’s going on—is it Max?”
“I’ll tell you on the way.”
Worry hiking, I grabbed my jacket and bag, locked up, and tore after Jack. As he sped off, cutting through the heavy noon traffic, he filled me in. “Max is going to play.”
“Oh, no!”
“Since you didn’t know, I’m guessing you objected?” Jack cut me a dark look. “He needs his music. And you should be supporting him against the ‘gator-face’ music director.”
“I’m not objecting,” I snapped in annoyance. “I know how much Max loves his music, but I’m so afraid this will blow out of control and put him back in the limelight, where he hates it.”
“Unlikely.”
“What do you mean ‘unlikely?’” I snapped. “Anything Max does is cause for media consumption. They’re like damn vultures.”
“Tell me about it,” he muttered, his expression dark. Then I realized, he was from the same social strata as Max; of course, he’d have the press on his tail, too. “If the media circus is around, there’ll be damage control. But dickhead should have let him play, even if he flunked him.”
While I appreciated Jack’s loyalty, I didn’t want Max caught in the tabloid’s ridicule again. I’d seen the photos in the newspaper Kate had handed to me of Max and me at the fair. Paint splashed all over us.
Has media’s favorite bad boy finally been hooked?
The headlines splashed the social pages. Along with news of who I was. Probably, someone from the store had given them all the info about me. And worse, they’d rehashed his mother’s death again. The drunk driving…
Damn leeches.
Breathless (Players to Men) Page 22