by S. Nelson
“Not usually.” I huffed and downed half of my refill as soon as the waitress placed it in front of me.
“Am I missing something?” Daria suddenly interjected, narrowing her eyes at both of us. I’d almost forgotten we had company.
“No,” I replied, suddenly aware Max had moved his seat closer, so close his thigh brushed against mine.
Heat bloomed all over my body, and there wasn’t a damn thing I could do about it without drawing unnecessary attention to myself. From Daria and from Max.
As if sensing my unease, Daria peppered Max with questions, and for the next half hour, I learned a lot more about the man who had consumed my every thought.
He was originally from California, moving to New York for a job at the firm.
Divorced.
No children.
Younger brother by two years, who I’d briefly heard about, and his parents were still happily married, traveling the world since their retirement.
The entire time he spoke, I become covetous, wishing I was the only one present to hear all his personal information.
I’m truly fucked.
Alina
FORTY-FIVE MINUTES HAD passed, and still, the conversation was flowing, mainly between Max and Daria, with a few interjections from me. I didn’t want him to stay, yet I hated the thought of him leaving.
“So you never told me what case you’re working on.” I was in mid-daydream, imagining what Max’s lips tasted like, what his hands would feel like all over my skin, when a shot of pain traveled up my leg.
“Ow,” I cried out, my eyes instantly flying toward Daria. “Why did you kick me?”
“Because you’re obviously not paying attention.” She smirked then lifted her chin toward the man sitting next to me. Is he even closer?
Turning to face Max, I asked, “Did you say something?”
“Am I that boring?”
“No!” my friend shouted, laughing when she realized how loud she’d been. She was well on her way to feeling buzzed, as was I. Without allowing my mouth to filter what my brain had concocted as a response, I blurted, “The great Maxton Colter? Boring?” I smiled. “Never.”
“Well, since I know you’re not being sarcastic,” he said sarcastically, the corners of his mouth lifting ever so slightly, “I’ll take that as a compliment. And give you a piece of advice.” He leaned in so only I could hear. “I think you should start drinking some more water before I have to carry you out of here. Not that I would object to having my hands all over you.”
A blush painted my cheeks, and while I hadn’t meant to, my mouth fell open, and I stared across the table at Daria, all wide-eyed and astonished. Although I should’ve expected something like that to come out of his mouth, since history proved he loved to get me going, it was still wicked. Mainly because I’d been envisioning the exact same scenario just moments prior.
“I like you, Max. I think you’re just what my friend needs.” Daria finished off the rest of her wine, stood from the table and grabbed her purse. “Make sure she gets home safe, yeah?”
A curt nod from Max and my friend deserted me, walking away and leaving me in the lion’s den. And it was exactly how I felt, like the prey, Max being the ever-tactical predator.
Before Daria could get too far, I hopped off my chair and followed her, seizing her arm before she made it to the door. The bar was busier than when we’d arrived, making it harder to have the conversation I wanted to have with my supposed best friend.
“Where are you going?” I pulled her back toward me and led her to a quieter corner.
“I’m going home. It’s obvious you want to be alone with him.”
“I most certainly do not,” I countered, my skin suddenly becoming flush.
“Well, then. Max definitely wants to be alone with you and far be it from me to be a cock blocker.” She laughed, throwing her hand over her mouth when she inadvertently snorted.
“And you’re just gonna leave me with him? He could be a serial killer for all you know.” I honestly didn’t think I was in any physical danger with Max. Emotional? Sexual? Most assuredly.
“He’s hot and sexy as fuck. I’d offer myself to him if he wasn’t so enraptured by you.” She patted my arm before giving me a quick kiss on the cheek. “Go for it.”
“Did you forget I’m engaged?”
“That’s not real, and we both know it.” She pulled back and crossed her arms over her chest. “Don’t let your father dictate your life anymore. Besides, I’ve never seen you look at Chris the way you were looking at Max, who by the way is watching us right now.”
I hadn’t meant to, but I turned around, and sure enough, he was staring at me. Not us. Me. Licking his lips before taking a slow drink of the amber liquor in his glass.
Turning my attention back toward Daria, I blew out a breath. “You don’t understand.” I’d already explained why I was going along with marrying Chris to my friend, and rehashing it right then was the last thing I wanted to do. “Besides, even if I wasn’t engaged to Chris, I’m still dating him.”
“Did you ever agree to be exclusive?” She smirked.
“I think that was covered as soon as my father announced our engagement.”
“You’re hopeless.”
“And you’re no help,” I replied, pulling her in for a quick hug. “Are you okay to get home? I could go with you?”
“I’m fine. I’ll just grab a cab out front. Besides, there is no way I’m letting you leave him,” she said, pointing at Max. I slapped her arm back down to her side, but all she did was laugh. “Love you, Leenie,” she sang, calling me her nickname she’d had for me in school. Not one of my favorites.
I ignored her playful taunting. “Love you, too. Text me when you get home.”
Watching her leave, I took a few moments to try and calm myself before I walked back to our table. Just when I thought I had all my emotions under control, everything went to hell as soon as my feet carried me toward Max.
Max
WATCHING ALINA APPROACH, kicked up the ramming of my heart against my chest. Every step closer bombarded me with images of her delectable body underneath me. Pictures of her hair wrapped around my fist, and her lips wrapped around my . . .
“Sorry, but I wanted to make sure she was okay to get home by herself.”
“Are you sure you weren’t trying to convince her to stay?”
“Why? Do you think I’m afraid to be alone with you?” The flush painting her skin was a sure sign I was getting to her. Hopefully in the way that counted.
“There’s no thinking about it. I know you are.”
“How do you not get slapped?” She shook her head and smiled, biting the corner of her lip, and I wasn’t sure if the gesture was to stop her from speaking more of her mind.
“Lucky I guess.” I drained the rest of my drink, but when the waitress approached, I told her I only wanted the bill.
“Are you leaving?” she asked, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear. My eyes drifted to her pert nose then to her plump lips, holding my attention for a moment too long. She cleared her throat, and my eyes flew back up to hers. The amber flecks around the irises made the green appear darker. Was that arousal or simply the alcohol?
“We’re leaving,” I replied, acting as if I hadn’t been visually assaulting her, an action I couldn’t seem to help. Reaching into my suit jacket, I pulled out my wallet, prepared to take care of the tab as soon as possible.
“I’m not going anywhere with you,” she countered, thinking she actually had a choice in the matter. “You can’t just waltz in here and think you can control me.”
I would’ve liked to have said her statement confused me, but unfortunately, it hadn’t. I knew exactly where she was coming from, knowing of some of the issues plaguing her life.
“I’m not trying to control you,” I promised. “But you’ve been drinking, and I’m not allowing you to traipse home all by yourself.”
“Allowing me?” She sounded offended. “
Besides, I’m not drunk. Not even close.”
“I didn’t say you were, but your reflexes are impaired.”
“No, they’re not.”
“They. Are,” I enunciated. “I’m not arguing with you about this.” When she continued to glare at me, I decided it was best to try a different approach. I placed my hand over my heart. “I need to make sure you get home safely. Please allow me to have a clear conscience this evening; otherwise, I fear I’ll never get to sleep. I’ll be up all night worrying whether or not you’re lying in a ditch somewhere. And then I’ll be forced to call all the hospitals, and all the police stations just to ensure you—”
“Oh my God! Stop,” she said, a faint smile appearing. “Fine, you can accompany me home. To my front door and that’s it. As long as you stop talking.”
Satisfied, I gave her a wink before taking her hand in mine as I led her toward the exit. The warmth of her skin against mine ignited my heart, and it picked up its pace again while the rest of my blood flow seemed to head south. We needed a cab right away. Without one, I feared an awkward conversation would ensue.
Luckily, there were rides always waiting outside Carlyle’s, so we hopped in, and I waited for Alina to give the driver our destination. She looked at me first, shook her head then rattled off the address.
What was she afraid of? That I’d show up at her home unannounced in the middle of the night, demanding she let me in because I couldn’t get her out of my mind?
I had some control, didn’t I?
I guess I’ll see.
Alina
MY PLACE WAS twenty minutes from the bar, and the first half of the ride was spent in silence, the tension building with every mile we drove. When the awkwardness became too much, I opened my mouth to speak, but surprisingly he beat me to it.
“So you never answered my question before.” He swung his body to face me, and I swore his hand made a grab for the front of his slacks, but the lack of light inside the cab couldn’t confirm my suspicion.
“What question was that?”
“What case are you working on?” Phew! Thankfully the topic was safe. I relaxed my shoulders.
“Domestic abuse. It’s one of my pro bono cases.”
“Really? Don’t you think that’s a little dangerous?” Max slung his arm over the back of the seat, his fingertips brushing the top of my shoulder.
“How so?” I asked, perplexed, moving back an inch in case he attempted to touch me again. I couldn’t be held accountable for what I might do given the confined space.
“Well, a lot of abusive men don’t take kindly to any help given to their wives or girlfriends.”
“How do you know my client is a woman?” He arched a brow. I continued on. “Just because her husband is a bastard does that mean I shouldn’t help her? She has two small children and is being tortured every day by him. She sought help, and I’m going to give it to her.”
“Just be careful. That’s all I’m saying.”
“I can take care of myself, thank you.” Why was I annoyed that he was trying to make sure I was safe? I knew the dangers when abusive men were involved. They were unpredictable, could lash out at anyone once their victims fled. I knew this, yet I acted as if there was no danger whatsoever.
Maybe I just didn’t want Max to see me as incapable. For some reason, what he thought of me was important.
Lost in thought, I hadn’t realized the cab had stopped and was idling by the curb.
“Is this your place?” Max asked, leaning over me to see out my window. I inhaled his scent, closing my eyes and making a soft sound. When I opened them, his face was close to mine, the corner of his mouth lifting.
“What?” It was an open-ended one-word question.
“Nothing.” Seconds passed where neither one of us moved, careful not to breathe too deeply for fear our bodies would touch.
“Hey, you two gettin’ out or what?” the cab driver called out, his body half angled toward the back seat.
When I didn’t move, a faint line appeared between Max’s brows. “Is this not your place?”
His voice knocked me from my haze, my fingers gripping the handle before pushing open the door. With one leg outside on the edge of the curb and one still inside the cab, I reached into my purse and pulled out the fare, but when I tried to pass it to the driver, Max playfully knocked my hand away.
“I got it,” he offered, replacing my money with his own.
“Aren’t you leaving?” Confusion rippled through me. Why was he getting out of the cab?
“Not yet. Not until I know you’re safe.”
“Then ask the driver to wait until I step inside.”
“I think I’ll walk you up, if that’s all right with you.” What was I going to say to that? I wanted to shout at him that I was fine, that I’d made it home every other night without his assistance. That I didn’t need someone watching over me. But another part of me, the dangerous part that wanted to throw all caution to the wind and live in the moment, shouted at me not to be stupid. To let Max accompany me just so I could spend more time in his presence.
He never let me make the final decision, however, stepping from the cab and walking around my side to hold the door open for me while I exited. The cab sped off as soon as Max slammed the door.
As we approached the bottom step of my townhome, Max whistled before turning to look at me, his eyes wide.
“Who lives here?”
“I do.”
“I know that. Who else?” His hand rested on my lower back as we slowly walked up the steps, each slab of concrete drifting underneath my feet as if they were going to crumble at any moment.
“Just me,” I replied, confused why he thought someone else lived there. Then it dawned on me that maybe he thought Chris and I lived together, and suddenly it was important I let him know that wasn’t true. “We don’t live together.”
His jaw tightened, and the only way I’d been able to see the flinch was because the landing lights were on. He seemed riled.
“Not yet,” he mumbled, resting on the top stoop and dropping his hand to his side. Awkward moments passed in silence, each of us facing the other, contemplating the end to the evening. When Max leaned back against the railing, I knew he wasn’t going anywhere, and the realization both thrilled and terrified me.
“Okay, well . . . um, thank you for seeing me home safely. Did you want me to call you a cab when I get inside?”
“I have a phone.”
“Right.” I attempted to insert my key into the lock but missed, a tangle of steel hitting the concrete at my feet. In a blur of motion, Max bent down to retrieve the keys but chose to stay crouched longer than necessary, his head level with my waist. His fingers ghosted over the side of my calf, and I shivered, taking a step back and knocking into the railing behind me.
“Sorry,” he grumbled, rising to his full height and towering over me. “I thought I saw a spider on you.” I knew damn well he was lying, but I didn’t call him out on it, instead choosing to bask in his beauty. It was an odd word for a man, but the description fit Max perfectly.
Masculine.
Refined.
Rugged.
Sexy.
Beautiful.
He stood so close I could smell the mint on his breath, swore I could feel the beat of his heart against his chest. Or was that mine?
“Alina,” he said gruffly, as if I had been caught doing something wrong. “Alina,” he repeated, stepping closer, if that were at all possible.
“Yes?” I swore I was weightless, crashing back down when I figured out just why he was saying my name.
“Your keys?” Max placed my keys in my palm, the pads of his fingertips traveling over my own until he dropped his arm to the side.
“Right.” The cold metal threw me back into the moment, one where I had to get my head out of the clouds and get back to reality. “Thank you for seeing me home. I guess I’ll see you at the office.”
“Actually, I could really use
your bathroom if you don’t mind.”
The last time someone had asked to use my bathroom was Chris, and I’d reluctantly let him in, only for him to force himself on me. Sort of. Even though it was only a kiss, it had been unwanted. Thankfully he’d snapped out of it, apologized and left, and he hadn’t been over since. Not that I was banning him from my home, but the opportunity hadn’t come up. Work typically kept both of us busy.
“Sure,” I agreed, even though every cell in my body screamed at me it was a bad idea. I opened the front door, and we entered the foyer before I briskly walked toward the alarm. Punching in my code, I released a breath before turning back around to face Max.
He was busy taking in my home, peeking inside rooms and looking rather curious. “Damn, woman. What’s your secret?”
I leaned against the wall, deciding it was better to keep some distance between us. “What do you mean?”
“How does an associate afford a place like this?” He rounded the corner before I could answer, whistling once he entered the ultra-modern kitchen. I chuckled to myself, pleased that he was impressed.
Joining him near the kitchen island, I leaned my hip against the marble top. “This was my mother’s before she married my father. Her parents purchased it for her to ensure she’d always have somewhere to call home.”
“It’s gorgeous,” he complimented, although when he said gorgeous, he looked directly into my eyes.
Deciding it was a good idea to stay on topic, I continued. “When she passed, my father signed it over to me when I turned twenty-one, and I’ve been here ever since.”
Instead of him saying he was sorry about my mother, like most, he asked me a question which prompted memories of her to bombard me. All in a good way.
“Did you get along with your mother? Do you miss her?”
“Every single day,” I responded without hesitation. “She died when I was fourteen, so it was especially hard growing up without her. I feel her around me sometimes, but it’s not the same of course.” I gave him a weak smile, wishing I could call my mom and tell her all about the man standing in my kitchen.