So This Is Love

by Barbara Freethy

  "That sounds like fun."

  "Apparently, one of Aiden's friends bought into a winery."

  "Anyone I know?"

  "I don't think so. His name is Travis Montgomery. I think he was a smokejumper."

  "Maybe Aiden will want to become a winemaker in his next career."

  "Right now he's only interested in drinking some good wine," Sara said. "We're putting off the career decisions for a few weeks. We've both been working so hard that it's nice to have some time to relax, be with family, friends."

  "And each other."

  "That, too. In some ways, I feel like I've known Aiden forever, and in other ways I'm continually discovering new things about him."

  "Like the fact that he can be a slob?" Emma put in.

  Sara laughed. "Spoken like a true sister."

  Emma paused. "Looks like the game is over. I need to speak to Max."

  "So you did come to see him."

  "For professional reasons," she said, even though that was only half-true. She did want to touch base on the investigation, but she also just wanted to talk to him.

  They walked across the court together.

  "Very impressive," Sara said, giving Aiden a kiss.

  "You were my good luck charm," Aiden said.

  Emma rolled her eyes. "You guys are sickening."

  "I agree," Burke said, shaking his head in disgust.

  Aiden just laughed. "You two are jealous."

  Emma glanced at Max. "You've met Aiden, I see."

  "Yeah, he introduced himself with an elbow to my gut," Max said dryly.

  "You were in my lane," Aiden said.

  "My lane," Max corrected.

  "It was, until you tripped," Burke put in. "You were way off your game tonight, Harrison."

  "I was distracted," Max said, scowling in her direction.

  "Well, isn't there a lot of testosterone in this gym," she said, feeling a little charge of pleasure that she might have been the reason for Max's distraction. Not that she wanted to say anything in front of her brothers.

  "We're going to take off," Aiden said. "Nice to meet you, Harrison."

  "You, too," Max said.

  "I'll walk out with you," Burke added.

  As they left Max turned to Emma. "What do you need?"

  His tone was not particularly inviting, but she was getting used to his changing moods. "A conversation. We're supposed to be sharing notes. You didn't return my call."

  "I had nothing to report, and if you did, you would have left me a message."

  "I'd still like to run down my notes with you. Can we talk?"

  "All right, but not here. I need to take a shower."

  "How far away is your apartment?"

  He hesitated, obviously not thrilled about her seeing his place, which only made her want to see it more.

  "It's about five minutes away," he said.

  "We'll go there. You can change, and then we'll talk."

  "I could meet you somewhere in a half hour."

  "I'm fine with waiting for you to shower. Besides, I want to see your apartment."

  "Why?"

  "Because I do. Because I'm curious."

  He smiled. "And as soon as I'm in the shower, you're going to snoop around. I have to warn you, you'll be disappointed."

  "I'll take that risk."

  Chapter Fifteen

  As Max had predicted, Emma was extremely disappointed in his sparsely furnished apartment. She'd hoped to find a few more clues to his personality in his living space, but it was clear that he hadn't really moved in. There were no pictures on the bare white walls. The furniture in the small living room was basic male, brown leather couch and matching recliner, big screen television, a box of books against the wall that looked like they'd been thrown in there when he moved. A few other boxes were on the floor by a plastic table that seemed to be serving as a dining room table.

  His kitchen revealed the fact that he really liked cereal and oranges. His refrigerator had six beers, some eggs, milk, and several cartons of take-out Chinese food. Everything was neat though. No dirty dishes in the sink, no overflowing trash can. Max obviously didn't like clutter.

  She returned to the living room and noticed a large glass statue on a side table. As she drew closer, she realized it was a trophy featuring a surfer riding a wave. The placard read Second Place, Mavericks. Max had obviously been pretty good. She wondered if his brother had taken first place.

  Underneath that table was another open box. She squatted down and flipped through a bunch of pictures, some frames, some loose. Many shots were of the sea and several included action surfing shots. She recognized a much younger Max in one of the shots and the tall thin guy next to him looked a lot like Spencer.

  Despite the evidence, it was difficult to see Max as a surfer. She'd really like to see that laid back part of his personality.

  But as she took another look around the apartment, she wondered how much time she'd have to get to know Max. He hadn't made much of an attempt to move in. He hadn't hung pictures, bought bookshelves, or invested in tables of the non-plastic variety.

  Was San Francisco a temporary stop for him? Once Spencer was settled, would Max return to Los Angeles?

  That might be good. He'd been a thorn in her side for three months. She should probably be happy. Instead, she felt oddly unhappy. They were becoming friends, and if either of them let go of their control for one second, they'd probably be more than friends. The attraction between them had been smoldering for days. It wouldn't take much of a spark to set it on fire. Maybe that's why Max had been avoiding her. And if she had any sense, she'd be doing the same.

  On the other hand, if Max wasn't sticking around, maybe she shouldn't be so worried about getting involved with a colleague. He might not be a coworker for long. She straightened as Max came out of the bedroom.

  "Find anything interesting, Emma?"

  He'd changed into jeans and a pullover shirt. His hair was damp from his shower, and his cheeks looked like they'd just seen a razor. Her stomach clenched, and she was suddenly very aware that they were alone in his apartment, and the bedroom was really, really close.

  The silence between them changed, became charged, and she knew she needed to say something, because Max's eyes had darkened, and if he took one step closer, she might not be able to stop herself from jumping into his arms.

  "Emma?"

  "What?" she asked blankly.

  He walked forward, stopping a few inches away from her, and it took all of her will power not to back up. "You shouldn't have come here."

  "I know."

  Her nerves tightened as his gaze moved from her eyes to her lips. He was so close she could feel his breath on her cheek.

  "So beautiful," he murmured, his fingers running down her skin. "This was a really bad idea."

  Her heart skipped a beat even as her brain started screaming caution. "What—what are you doing?"

  "Thinking about kissing you."

  "We shouldn't," she said halfheartedly. "Should we?"

  At her query, desire flared in his eyes. "That is not the right question."

  "I know, but you look really, really good." She took a deep breath. "And you smell even better. What are you wearing?"

  "Soap," he said, gazing into her eyes. "I told you I wouldn't kiss you again unless you asked. And I know you're stubborn enough not to ask."

  "I can be stubborn—if I want to be."

  "Do you want to be?"

  "I don't know," she murmured, torn between her body and her brain, her emotions and her sense of logic.

  "I can't promise anything, Emma. You have to know that up front. I don't have relationships. I don't fall in love. But I like you. And I want you."

  His husky words shook her to the core. She'd never had a man speak so bluntly, so honestly. He was trying to scare her way, but it wasn't working. She didn't want promises from him. Nor did she want to make any herself.

  "We could be together for now, for this minute.
" She couldn't believe she'd made the suggestion, but she couldn't take it back. She didn't want to take it back. She'd always been fascinated by fire, and tonight the heat was coming from Max. She knew she could get burned, but she couldn't back away.

  "It's going to take way longer than a minute," he drawled, his gaze roaming across her face and then running down her body in a possessive, territorial sort of way. She told herself she didn't like it when he tried to be in charge, but she found herself wanting him to take charge now.

  But he wasn't doing anything except looking at her, and that look was enough to make her breath catch in her chest. Her body tightened, and her nipples tingled beneath her shirt. She'd been battling her desire for weeks, and she didn't want to fight anymore. She didn't want to be smart or logical. She wanted to touch Max, to taste his lips, to run her hands under the shirt clinging to his damp skin. She wanted to inhale his musky scent and lose herself in his arms. She wanted to surrender.

  Unfortunately, she couldn’t surrender to someone who was just standing there, watching her. He was waiting for her to ask him. But she didn't need to ask.

  She knew what she wanted. She wanted him. And what she wanted, she went after.

  She moved forward, her gaze on his. She saw the flicker of excitement in his eyes as she put her hands on his arms. His biceps tensed under her touch, and a wave of heat shot through her. She felt a little female thrill at the idea of all that power around her, inside her.

  She lifted her face to his and rocked on to her toes so their mouths touched. His mouth was warm and inviting. She nipped at his bottom lip, hearing him groan with pleasure. Then she pressed her leg between his and felt his arousal. She smiled against his mouth and slid her tongue between his parted lips.

  She could feel the tension in his body and sensed that he was trying desperately to hang on to his control. But she didn't want him controlled. She wanted him to let loose, to let her past the brick wall that he had built to protect his emotions.

  Deepening the kiss, she took her time, tasting the minty mouthwash on his breath, reminding her of the shower he'd taken earlier. She should have joined him in that shower. She would have liked to explore his body, to take her time. Later—she silently promised. Later, they would go slow. But now—now she just wanted to go fast.

  Max must have read her mind. His arms came around her body, and he pulled her up hard against his chest. He changed the angle of his head, and he was suddenly the one exploring her mouth. Their tongues tangled together in the push and pull dance they'd been doing for months. The simmering sparks were bursting into flames, one after the other.

  Max moved his mouth from her lips to her cheek, his tongue trailing along her jawbone, and then tracing the line of her ear, flickering inside the tender shell, setting off more sensitive nerve endings. Jolts of desire ran through her.

  She unzipped her jacket and shrugged her arms out of it, throwing it on the floor. Then she slid her hands under Max's thin knit shirt, feeling his abdominal muscles clench beneath her fingers. She loved the feel of his skin, and she wanted more of it.

  Pulling away from his kiss, she tugged on the hem of his shirt and helped him pull it up and over his head. Then he did the same for her.

  His eyes widened as he saw her barely-there lacy pink bra. She had to wear such manly clothes at work that she went really feminine underneath, and the appreciation in his eyes made her feel even more female.

  He lowered his head and placed his lips in the center of her cleavage, then ran his tongue along the edge of her bra, making her anticipate what it would be like to have his mouth on her breasts, his teeth tugging at her nipples.

  His hands rested on her hips, his grip just firm enough to keep her right where he wanted her.

  "You're torturing me," she said breathlessly.

  He flashed her a killer smile as he lifted his head and gazed into her eyes. "I haven't even gotten started yet." His gaze turned serious. "Are we doing this, Emma?"

  "Yes," she said without a doubt in her mind. She put her arms around his neck and brought his mouth back down to hers.

  One long, deep, wet kiss, and then they broke apart. Max pulled a condom out of his pocket.

  "Always prepared," she said, not at all surprised.

  "Since the day I met you," he said.

  "Really?" she asked in wonder.

  He nodded, shoving off his jeans and briefs.

  Her mouth watered at the sight of his beautiful body. Max was a rugged, physical man with not an ounce of fat on him. Every muscle had been toned to perfection. Dark hair was scattered across his chest, making a V down to a fairly spectacular erection. She didn't have long to look, because Max was helping her off with her pants, and once she was naked, he walked her backwards across the room.

  Her legs hit the couch, and they tumbled together on to the soft leather. Max's body covered hers, and she loved the feel of his weight on her body, his chest crushing her breasts, his hard legs between hers. He kissed her mouth, then moved his lips down her neck and then lower to her breasts.

  He took his time, kissing, sucking, teasing each of her nipples into fine, hard points of desire. Her legs moved restlessly under his as the need built within her. Her world was consumed with his touch, his smell, and the desire she felt for him.

  "Max, I want you now," she muttered.

  He lifted his head. "Patience."

  She wanted to hate him for that word, but she couldn't. Because he'd moved down between her legs, his sexy mouth taking her to the next peak. She ran her hands through his hair, as the tension built inside. Max was relentless in his attention, in his intensity, and she was a prisoner of her desire. Her body began to tremble and shake and then finally came the long, shattering waves of release.

  She blew out a breath as Max lifted his head and smiled. "Beautiful. You should let go more often."

  "Your turn. Let me—"

  His finger on her mouth cut off her request. She wanted to do for him what he'd done for her. She wanted to roll him on his back and make love to him with her mouth. But he sat back on his heels, put on a condom and then moved between her legs. His hands threaded through her hair as he looked into her eyes. "Are you ready for me?"

  "I've been ready for weeks."

  He entered her body with one hard thrust.

  She sighed with pleasure. He filled her so completely. She could feel him deep, deep inside. And as he moved within her, the pressure began to build again.

  Once more his assault was patient and thorough as he shifted his angle to hit just the right spot. He moved harder, faster, and then buried his face in her neck, biting down gently as one long, seemingly endless orgasm rolled through them.

  Finally, he collapsed on top of her. She ran her hands up and down his back, feeling the tension release in his muscles. They clung together for a long moment. She didn't want to let him go. She didn't want to lose the connection, because as her brain came slowly back to life, she wondered if they would ever be this close again.

  He'd said no promises. She'd said the same.

  So why did she want them both to make a promise now?

  "I'm crushing you," he said as he lifted his head. He slid out of her and rolled on to his side against the back of the couch, putting his arm across her bare belly as they snuggled on the cushions.

  She turned on her side to face him. He had his eyes closed now, and she appreciated the opportunity to just look at him, to admire the strong planes of his face, the sweep of his insanely long black lashes, the thick brows that often drew together when he was lost in thought.

  Her gaze dropped to his sexy mouth, the one that could tease and torture, cause her great annoyance but even greater pleasure.

  "You're staring at me," he said.

  "How do you know? Your eyes are closed."

  "I can feel you." He opened his eyes. "I always know when you're watching me."

  Her heart skipped a beat. She should be completely satiated, but obviously having him once w
asn't going to be enough.

  "I can feel when you're watching me, too," she returned.

  "I know. I like it when the awareness flashes in your pretty blue eyes. I like it even more when you try to cover it up."

  "Well, I'm not covering up much now," she said dryly.

  He smiled. "You have one hell of a body. Who knew you were hiding such gorgeous curves under that bulky firefighter gear you like to wear?"

  His words brought with them a blush of pleasure. "I have to be fit to do my job."

  "You're definitely that."

  "You're not so bad yourself, Max."

  Silence fell between them and grew awkward and uncomfortable the longer it went on. What happened now? Did they make their way into the bedroom? Did they stay where they were and cuddle? Should she grab her clothes and get dressed?

  The buzzing of her phone broke through her wandering thoughts. She let the call go to voicemail, not wanting to move out of Max's arms just yet. She had the distinct feeling that as soon as she left his embrace, it would be a long time before she got back. Or maybe she'd never get back. Max was putting his guard up. She could feel it with each passing second.

  She wanted to know what he was thinking, but she was afraid to ask a question for which she didn't really want an answer.

  He looked at her like he wanted to ask her something, too, but in the end neither one of them spoke.

  Her cell phone buzzed again. She looked around for her bag. It was on the coffee table.

  "I better check my phone." She turned on to her back, so she could grab her phone out of her bag. She saw two missed calls from Alicia. She glanced at her watch and abruptly sat up.

  "Oh, no! I'm late." She scrambled off the couch. "I can't believe it's eight o'clock already."

  "What happens at eight o'clock?"

  "I'm supposed to meet Alicia at the apartment to pick up my keys."

  "You got the apartment?"

  "Yes." She grabbed her clothes and ran into the bathroom. After dressing, she splashed water on her face and ran her fingers through her hair. Looking in the mirror, she could see her swollen mouth, her red cheeks, and the tender bite mark on her neck. She really did not want to leave. But she did want to get the keys to her apartment.