Breathless (Players to Men)

by Georgia Lyn Hunter

  We stepped outside into the sun’s warmth again, and it chased away the coldness from inside.

  But at the view in front of me, I felt as if I’d stepped into the Queen’s garden party. Well, what I assumed a casual royal party would look like.

  Guests moved between linen-covered buffet tables groaning with food that could feed the shelters for a year, and overseen by waiters standing like guards. A chef basted a lamb on a spit a short distance away.

  I was extremely glad I’d wore the vintage, figure-hugging dress. It had been a practical choice so it wouldn’t crease. Besides, I had no idea what the dress code was, and Max’s, “you’re beautiful in whatever you wear,” when I’d asked hadn’t helped much. Now? Really grateful.

  We hadn’t taken more than two steps when an older, willowy woman with caramel-tinted, bobbed hair, glided toward us, a wide smile on her face. She wore navy pants and a silky, cream blouse with a draped front.

  “Max, I’m so happy you came, even if it is so late,” she chided, air kissing his cheeks. “Jo’s here. She’s dying to see you again.” She hooked her arm through his, trying to steer him down the steps to the lower terrace where all the action was… and away from me.

  Did the woman really not see me? I glanced down at myself. Nope, I was still here in my vintage dress.

  Max extracted himself from the woman. Standing down a step, he held out his hand, and I put mine in his. “Cecilia, this is Ila Logan. My girlfriend. Logan, Cecilia Emerson, a family friend.”

  With a handshake that would do a jellyfish proud, she quickly removed her limp fingers. The woman cast her attention back to Max, dismissing me as if I were nothing more than the help. “We missed you, dear. Are you all right?”

  “I’m fine.”

  “Oh, that’s wonderful to hear.” She lowered her voice. “It’s good that your father got the charges dropped for vandalism. Of course, it cost him a huge donation, but no matter, at least you can go back to school now,” she continued, oblivious to Max’s rigid features or the quiet fury burning in his green eyes. “I found a wonderful place for you to lease. Jo will show—”

  “Excuse us, Cecilia.” He grasped my hand and stalked off, bypassing the crowds.

  The woman was a piece of work. I glanced back and met her narrowed stare. “She’s not happy.”

  “Not my problem.”

  “Who is she?”

  “My father’s girlfriend.” He cut through the terrace, taking a bend around the house to stop at the white balustrade overlooking the stunning pool area. The wide, blue ocean served as a tranquil backdrop. He paced the area like his skin was the only thing keeping him together.

  “Max,” I said softly.

  He stopped, tunneled his fingers through his hair, then glanced at me. “I’m sorry about this. Being here feels like it’s crushing the life out of me.”

  I walked up to him, slid my arm around his waist and held him. He put his mouth on mine as if in desperation, and I deepened the kiss. Then he was kissing me, seeming to be back in control. It didn’t take much for him to make me forget my surroundings. He licked inside my mouth and sucked on my tongue, hauling me deeper and deeper into a place of untold desire that only Max could sweep me into. A moan escaped me, and I melted into him.

  With a groan, he reluctantly dragged his mouth away from mine. “Kissing you in public is always a bad idea,” he muttered, pressing another kiss to my lips. Exhaling roughly, he glanced in the direction we’d come from. Then he looked me over. “You okay?”

  “You ask me that when you kiss me that way?” I scrunched my face at him.

  He tweaked my nose. “I meant being here in this circus that’s my life.”

  “I’m fine.” I gave him a quick smile of reassurance. He laced our fingers, and as we made our way back to the party, I asked, “Who’s Jo?”

  “Cecilia’s niece. She has visions of acquiring the family name through me,” he muttered, that grim look once more stealing over his features.

  That didn’t surprise me. The woman—Cecilia—was as determined as a vulture after carrion to get both the Sinclairs. Well, she wasn’t getting Max.

  A waiter with a tray of drinks stopped before us. Max took a flute of champagne and handed it to me. He got a soda for himself.

  I sat on the low balustrade separating the terrace from the rolling green lawns and manicured garden below, the rustling waterfall nearby a soothing sound, and people-watched.

  “Maximillian, my dear boy, jolly good to see you.” A stout, older man, stuffed like a sausage in his suit, waddled toward us. Max’s expression evened out, but the jut of his jaw told me all I needed. He didn’t like the man. But then Max rarely liked anyone…well, except for my family and his friends from what I’d seen.

  And I couldn’t blame him if this lot of vultures were whom he had to deal with constantly.

  “Mr. Renshaw.”

  Beady brown eyes skimmed over me. “Who is this young lady?”

  “Ila Logan.”

  “Mmm…Irish? She doesn’t look it. How is school?”

  “My dad’s Irish,” I interrupted, annoyed at the dismissive tone. “My mom’s Indian, thanks for noticing.”

  “It was simply an observation, my dear girl.” And in that nasally inflected voice, he refocused on a tight-lipped Max. “These parties aren’t the same without your dear mother. Now she was a wonderful lady, brilliantly talented. It’s quite tragic really, the way she died. You still don’t remember what happened?” He guzzled more of his champagne. “Not your fault at all, Maximillian. But it is good you’ve moved on. You play music now?”

  Maximillian? Moved on? How dare he? The pompous old goat. I didn’t care that he’d dismissed me to my face, but to so sneakily question Max? No matter how solicitous his comments were, the jab there was meant to wound.

  The rigid line of Max’s jaw tautened further. I clasped his hand, hoping to calm him. His fingers squeezed mine, a little too hard, revealing just how close to the edge his control was.

  “Fuck this shit,” he muttered as the horrible man droned on. “We’re leaving.”

  I was only too glad. Max put his hand on my waist, and avoiding the crowd, we entered the house through a side entrance. As we navigated the long corridor, he stopped dead. Frowning, I glanced to the front and froze at the sight of the late arrival.

  Her. Jean Creswell. Max’s shrink.

  Her pale hair was perfectly styled in a topknot. Her eye-catching red dress was far shorter than mine, and the low V neckline left a lot of skin exposed.

  He headed for her. Warily, I followed.

  “Max.” A delighted smile lit her pale blue eyes. “It’s so good to—” She broke off when her gaze fell on me. Disdain settled over her features. “I see you aren’t alone.”

  He stopped a foot from her, his expression cold. Deadly. A shiver of unease slid down my spine. “You dare confront my girlfriend at her place of work?”

  She blinked as if startled by his confrontation. “Max—”

  “Who told you about her?”

  “Max—”

  “Answer the damn question.”

  Her expression firmed. “I saw a snapshot of you in the papers. A few phone calls, and I found her. Your father was worried about you and believed the window-dresser you’d hooked up with was the reason for you suddenly being so reclusive. He assumed…” She shrugged.

  “What? That I was doing drugs now?” Cynicism scored his tone.

  “Max…” She lifted her hands in appeal. “My only concern is your welfare. We are close family friends. She didn’t seem like your usual girls, so I thought to make it easier on her—”

  “By telling her we’d fucked?”

  Her mouth opened. Closed. Her breath rattled as her gaze darted around. Bitch probably didn’t want anyone to hear what she’d done.

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “Sure, you didn’t.” His smile was pure malevolence. “Did you also tell her how old I was?”

  The
color drained from her face, leaving her ghostly white. “You were eighteen—”

  “Right. I was a mess—in pain. I was there for you to fix me—” He broke off. “It no longer matters. I will never trust you or need you in the way you implied. She”—Max reached out and dragged me to his side—“is all I desire. Stay the hell away from my girlfriend and this family. Or I swear I will make Leland Sinclair look like a saint when I’m done with you.”

  His grip like a manacle on mine, he headed for the front.

  While Max dismissing his psychiatrist made my heart feel lighter, it troubled me that he had so much anger inside him. He needed to talk to someone, someone who understood how to deal with his demons. “Max—”

  “I’ll find another shrink, Logan.” Obviously, we were on the same wavelength. “I realize I have to see one. You are too important to me, and I don’t want to ruin things when it’s still so screwed-up in here—” He pointed at his head.

  I nodded and let it go. For now.

  We stepped out onto the portico, Max gave the valet a terse nod. As we waited for his Jeep, the door behind us opened.

  “Maxwell.” His father stood there, appearing far too forbidding. “The evening isn’t over.”

  Max barely cut him a glance. “For me, it is.”

  “You will remain until the announcement’s made.”

  Max stiffened.

  Please, please don’t let it be anything bad. This barbeque had been a horrible experience so far. Max didn’t need any more misery added to it.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Max

  Announcement?

  My gut twisting with unease, I strode after my father to the study, determined to find out what the hell was going on, which was undoubtedly what he’d wanted in the first place.

  I entered the room, but when faced with Mom’s portrait on his study wall, pain constricted my chest like vise. There was a little smile on her lips, a faraway look in her eyes, and her pale hair was pulled up in a feminine style. She was so beautiful, sweet—gentle. Again, I wondered why he had a painting of her in here when he’d never loved her. His business was all that mattered.

  It was a struggle to keep my tone even. “What announcement?”

  In response, he poured a shot of bourbon into a squat glass as if that were the most important thing right then. And sipped some.

  At the delaying tactics, my entire body coiled tighter, bracing for whatever was to come. His steel grays met mine. “I’m going to ask Cecilia to marry me.”

  A buzz started in my ears. Somewhere deep within me, I had realized this was coming. Yet hearing the words was like a kick in my gut. “Then don’t expect me here. Ever.”

  “Don’t force me to do something you won’t like, Maxwell.”

  Christ, I was so damn tired of the threats. “You want to disinherit me? Go ahead.”

  “How long do you think that pretty little thing sticking to your side is going to last when she finds out you have nothing?”

  “You don’t know her at all.” A grim smile rode my mouth. “She didn’t know who I was until after we got together.”

  Another sip. “I found out many interesting details about her. Such as her family’s financial difficulties. How will you play her knight and rescue her from her financial troubles? You think she’ll want a penniless musician?”

  I nailed him a flat stare. The bastard was going all out to point out my so-called failings. My trust fund still hadn’t kicked in. I wouldn’t put it past him to have had a hand in its delay. “If I have to play music in a bar, I will.”

  No way would I tell him about the offers I already had from the L.A. Phil and the San Francisco Symphony. Or the investments that I’d taken a chance on while interning at the family company. Hell, I was a chip off the old bastard, liked taking risks. And it was now paying off.

  “Nothing matters so long as I’m with her.”

  Steel gray eyes cut me a hard look. “For how long? You grow bored easily, judging from your history.”

  My jaw hurt from grinding my teeth. I refused to let him see that he was getting to me. And it seemed he wasn’t done yet.

  “She’s had only one relationship. She’s probably on a rebound, wants a bad boy fling before looking for something real. After her cheating ex, a woman like her won’t love again.” His lips twisted briefly. “If you’re looking for more, you’re doomed, headed for disappointment.”

  All the shit the old man spewed out, I tolerated. But this? That Logan would never love me? Even if it was a fucking wild guess, it struck a nerve, hit my one fear right on the head. Something inside me splintered, shattering into little pieces. The torment too much to bear, I did the only thing I could and pivoted for the door. The next thing I knew, pain exploded in my knuckles, rushing up my arm. Punching the wall would do that.

  “Maxwell!”

  Better this pain than the one clawing at my chest.

  “Maxwell, come back!”

  I ignored him, thought I heard Logan call me, but maybe that was a damn dream, too, like everything I wanted. Unable to bear the thought of losing her, feeling as if the walls were caving in on me, I headed for the front door.

  Ila

  Max stormed past me where I stood a short distance from the study door. Blood roared in my ears as rage tore through me. I’d never felt this furious, not even when I’d found Devyn with his pants around his ankles banging Simi.

  I’d stayed out in the corridor when Max had followed his father, realizing the conversation was probably best kept between the two of them. Except the exchange I’d overheard wasn’t what I expected. I hadn’t meant to eavesdrop, but the door was open, and their voices carried into the hallway.

  Anger and hurt rode me; hurt that Max lived with such terrible treatment from his parent, and anger that the man would say those horrible things about me.

  I didn’t go after Max. I stomped into the study, instead. A grim-faced Leland Sinclair stared through the window, a glass in his hand. The huge painting on the adjacent wall distracted me.

  Claudia Rose Meade-Sinclair.

  Max may look like his father with the hard, handsome face, but he got his coloring from his mother, the same lake-green eyes and ash-blond hair. And clearly, his passion and talent came from her, too.

  I dragged my gaze away from the portrait to meet Max’s father’s cold, gray eyes. “How could you?”

  “Just a few truths, Miss Logan. Max makes a mess—he always does. I clean it up. It’s how this game’s played. It’s time he learned the harsh realities of life.”

  “And you think he hasn’t? He is your son. How could you hurt him like that? And now you had to go and compound his pain even more?” Fury blazed like an inferno. “Let me tell you what I came to know about him and just how special he is. He’s kind, honorable, and amazing. He was there for me in my darkest time, stood by me, and made me feel like I was worth something. Yes, my fiancé cheated on me and tore my life apart, but Max gave me a reason to live again—he saved me. Don’t ever say another awful thing about him. You want to disinherit him, that’s your right. Max will make it because he’s an amazing pianist!”

  “Have you finished?” Cold. Dangerously cold.

  Hell, I’d already painted a bull’s-eye on myself, I might as well go out with a bang. “I hope you’re happy living in this cold mausoleum. Satisfied with those people out there at this farce of a barbeque, who found every opportunity to remind Max how happy you’d be if he weren’t around, or remind him that he was responsible for his mother’s death.” The frost coming from the other side of the huge desk did little to slow me down. “At least I know I can trust him to always look out for me, to be my safety net, to love me even when I make mistakes and not point fingers.”

  Tears burned my eyes as I realized just how much Max truly loved me while I was too scared to utter those three simple words back to him. Emotions thickened my throat. “Yes, my dad gave up his job to look after my mom. Things are difficult right now, but h
e did it anyway because she’s his life. Max loves me the same way. Y-you have no idea how truly remarkable he is, or what you’ve missed by not giving him a chance to be your son.”

  Chest heaving, I spun for the door, then swung right back. “And I do love him, more than I ever believed possible.”

  I sprinted for the front door, dodging people who turned to stare at me. I had to find Max and tell him I loved him. I skittered to a halt at the imposing front entrance. His Jeep was there, but there was no sign of him.

  “Ms. Logan,” Cecilia called from behind me. “Is there something wrong? You look upset?”

  Right, as if I’d ever tell this piranha what had occurred. “Max? Did you see him?”

  “Oh, he left, dear. He looked really upset.”

  “Left?” I asked stunned. “But his Jeep’s still here.”

  She shrugged. “Well, it wasn’t when he wanted it. My car was parked there”—she nodded to the opposite side of the driveway—“I told him to use it. You should give him some space.” She smiled sympathetically. “Men don’t like it when we women hover.”

  I didn’t understand why he’d leave me behind or use this woman’s car. But at her pseudo attempt at concern for me, I said with barely suppressed fury, “Stop trying to push your niece on him, he’s not interested!”

  Her worried expression morphed to a haughty one. “He won’t be yours for long. And do yourself a favor, dear. Go home. This isn’t the place for you, just as Max isn’t for you. You will never be accepted into polite society.”

  Once the gloves were off, I guessed people’s true colors burst free. I opened my mouth then shut it. The woman was wasting my time. Max needed me.

  “Cecilia,” Tanner walked out.

  Instantly, her arrogant demeanor softened. “I’m sorry, Tanner, dear. I’m a little worried about Max.”

  Damn liar! Ignoring her, I leaped down the portico steps, climbed into Max’s Jeep, and tore off down the driveway. I couldn’t blame him if he’d taken off to get away from these people. “Please, please be okay, Max.”