The Gamble

Chapter Four The Bluff

I woke up, my eyes opening and I registered immediately firstly, that it was the dead of night, dark with a hint of moonlight and secondly, that I was awake like I was ready to take on the day. This was likely because if I was at home I would already be up, taking on the day.

Then I registered that I didn’t have my head on a pillow. Against my cheek I could feel sleek skin and hard muscle. It hit me that I had my head on Max’s shoulder, my torso was part on him, part pressed to his side, my arm was resting across his belly and my knee was cocked, my thigh thrown over his. His arm was under me and up my back, his hand resting at my waist.

Oh my God.

I didn’t speculate about what he was doing there, I just thought about getting away.

I rolled to my back and then to my side, wondering if I could get my car keys out of his jeans and my suitcase to the car without waking him up.

I slid partly across the bed but I felt movement then a strong arm hooked around my belly. A soft, surprised gasp escaped from my mouth when I was hauled back. I hit the wall of his warm, hard frame and Max leaned his chest into me, cocking a knee, taking mine with it so his heavy thigh was resting against mine.

“Max,” I whispered.

No answer.

“Max,” I whispered louder.

“Mm?”

Then I felt his face in my hair and my body froze as his hand slid up my belly and his fingers curled around my breast.

I sucked in breath and held myself still. He didn’t move or say anything more.

“Max,” I whispered and his name was barely a murmur as evidently my voice was frozen too.

Again, no answer except the heavy weight of him settled deeper in my back.

He was asleep but he hadn’t let go of my breast.

I could, and should, lurch out of his arms and escape him and his house, maybe throwing a tantrum between the former and the latter.

He had no business detaining me, keeping my car keys, bossing me around, crawling into bed with me while I slept, even if he had nursed me back to health and made me oatmeal.

But I’d never been held like this, not in my whole life, and I couldn’t ignore the fact that it felt good. So. Very. Good. To be held, in bed, in the arms of tall, strong, handsome man. Unbelievable.

And it was more than that. I tried not to think about it, to let it penetrate my brain but, in Max’s bed, in his arms, I not only (obviously) wasn’t alone, I didn’t feel lonely. I felt warm, safe, protected with his big body cocooning mine. And it felt good.

In fact, since I walked into his A-Frame, except for the time I spent in the backseat of the rental, I hadn’t felt lonely. Not in the times I woke up during my illness when Max was there or even when he wasn’t and knowing he was close. Not even yesterday when I was alone. It had been a long time since I felt that safe contentment of knowing my solitude would be fleeting, gone before the wretched loneliness settled back in.

And it was more than even that. His hand at my breast, his leg cocked into mine, it felt sexy and it made me feel sexy. I hadn’t felt that way in awhile, a long while, too long and I missed it.

Niles and I, when we first met, had a healthy relationship in every aspect. But once I said yes to marriage for some reason that changed. The sex came less and less frequently until now it’d been months since we’d been intimate. More than a few months. In fact, way too many.

Niles and I didn’t live together. He liked his modern three bedroom flat in Bristol with its view of the river. He could walk to work from there and practically anywhere else he needed to go.

My place was huge, way too much space for me but I liked my rambling, four bedroom semi-detached mainly because it had been Charlie’s. But Niles couldn’t walk to work from my place. He’d have to take a bus which he would never do. And taxis every day would cost a mint. Unlike me, Niles was a barrister and he made really good money not to mention his family came from it. Still, a taxi every day was a bit much.

Charlie had bought the house for song and started to fix it up and when he was gone I’d made it my mission to finish his work and I did. I couldn’t let it go because it had been Charlie’s and because I’d put so much into it but Niles had no interest in moving there.

We were at a stalemate, Niles telling me to put it on the market and move in with him, me resisting. And while I was resisting I buried the feeling of resentment that if Niles paid attention, if he listened, he’d know how much that house meant to me and I wouldn’t have to resist.

Furthermore, these days Niles and I rarely saw each other during the week. Maybe to have a drink, sometimes I’d go to his house and make dinner. But we spent most of our weekends together usually me at his house again spending the night just sleeping.

But he didn’t hold me when we slept. We didn’t make love. He didn’t curl his fingers around my breast in the unconscious but still possessive way Max was doing at that very moment.

And even though I tried not to think about any of that, told myself to move, to get out of there, to get away from Max, that it was insane to lie in this man’s arms, I couldn’t do it.

Instead I laid in the dark, the moonlight bright and coming through the A-Frame window, held by Max and I decided to allow myself a moment of insanity.

He was asleep; he didn’t know what he was doing, what I was allowing him to do. I was fully awake; there was no way I’d get back to sleep. I’d slide away from him later, after I let myself have this. This haven of safety, this feeling of being desired and, if I pretended, which I decided to do, even cherished, this feeling of being anything but alone and the opposite of lonely.

I let my body relax and I snuggled deeper into Max. In response, his fingers automatically tightened on my breast and he settled further into me. My torso went into the bed, his hand pinned under me, his chest pressed into my back.

I closed my eyes. That felt even better.

I slid my hand along his steely arm, allowing myself another forbidden treat then I pushed my hand under my body, my fingers wrapping around his strong wrist and holding on.

I lay there a long time, probably hours, dozing sometimes, sometimes alert. When I was alert, I took that time to memorize the feel of what I had in that moment, over and over, liking it enough to allow myself a bit more, just a bit. I’d move away later.

Dawn was just beginning to light the A-Frame when I fell into another doze that was more than a doze.

It was me falling fast asleep.

***

I woke, the sunlight bright against my eyelids and for a scant second I was confused.

Somewhere along the line I hadn’t only fallen asleep, Max and I had both moved, back to our original position of him on his back, me partly sprawled on him.

I felt myself being moved and I kept my eyes closed at the feeling of it. With an exquisite gentleness the likes I’d never experienced before, he slid out from under me. Then he moved me so my head was on the pillow. I felt the covers pulled up over my shoulder and I listened to Max moving away.

For a moment I just allowed the fact to wash over me that big, solid, bossy, ungentlemanly Max could move me that way, touch me that way, not only that he could but that he would and he did.

Then I listened to the noises in the bathroom, taps turning on and off. He came out and a drawer opened then closed. Then I felt his presence leave the loft.

Then reality intruded.

Drat it all! I was such an idiot.

I heard soft noises from downstairs, the kitchen sink going on then off then I threw back the covers and ran to the bathroom.

I used the facilities, brushed my teeth, flossed, washed my face, my mind blank except for the fact I was an idiot. I should have taken my opportunity at escape. Max was apparently a heavy sleeper. I could have gotten away.

I gathered all my stuff in the bathroom and went out to the loft, going straight to my suitcase. I dumped the stuff in willy-nilly, frantic, sorting through my clothes to pull together an Escape Max Outfit.

I was so focused on this, I didn’t hear him hit the loft and when his arm snaked around my waist, I jumped.

“Mornin’ Duchess,” he said into my hair when my back hit his front.

I went stiff and started, “Max –”

“Coffee,” he interrupted me.

“Max –” I began again, pulling at his arm and he let me go.

I took a step to the side, turning to him, opening my mouth to tell him exactly what was on my mind (though I didn’t know what that would be since nothing, at that moment, was on my mind) but he caught my hand. Then when I pulled back and took a step away, to my shock he twirled me, his arm lifting mine over my head like we were on a dance floor. He stopped me with my back to him and curled his arm around my belly, my back to his chest and he turned me toward the stairs.

“Coffee,” he repeated, forcing me with his body to walk forward while I was still held in his arm.

He was stronger than me and way bigger so instead of pulling away I focused on a fight maybe I could win.

“You slept with me,” I accused.

“Yep,” he replied casually.

Yes, he replied casually. I’d known him, essentially, a day!

“You crawled in bed with me when I was asleep.”

“Yep,” he said again and we hit the stairs, he let me go but put his hands firm to my waist and propelled me down.

“Max!” I snapped.

“Coffee,” he said yet again.

His hand was now between my shoulder blades and he wasn’t stopping. I was forced to descend the staircase with him behind me or be shoved down them by Max.

Seriously, he was so annoying!

“I’d like to put on some clothes,” I snapped.

“You’ve got on some clothes.”

“I have on a nightgown.”

“That’s clothes.”

“It’s a nightgown,” I said, hitting the foot of the stairs and whirling on him.

He grabbed my hand and headed toward the kitchen. I pulled back but he was stronger than me and he was apparently on a coffee mission.

He yanked me into the kitchen close to the coffeepot which was filling, turned and tugged at my arm so I was close. His hand dropped mine but his arm went around my waist, pulling my lower body into close proximity with his.

I looked up at him, opened my mouth ready to let him have it but he got there first.

“Oatmeal with one sugar or satisfy your hankerin’ for some toast with grape jelly?”

I pulled in so much breath I felt my chest expand with it, filling me up, warm and sweet.

Men didn’t remember things like you saying you missed grape jelly. Not if you just muttered it in passing. Charlie would remember that but he wasn’t just any man. He was Charlie. There’d never been anyone like him.

Niles didn’t remember things like that. In fact, the incident that drove me to deciding to take this Colorado adventure timeout was when I had trouble sleeping one night, dragged myself exhausted to his kitchen the next morning and Niles, in an unusual mood, offered to pour me a cup of coffee. When I’d gratefully accepted, Niles asked me how I took it.

Since I’d known Niles for two years, had woken up in his house so often there was no way to count, been to breakfast with him, dinner, to his parents house for lunch and dinner and he didn’t know how I took my coffee, didn’t pay even that amount of attention to me, it hit me I needed to think about our situation and I needed to do it fast.

“Duchess?” Max called and I blinked at him, fighting back that warmth in my chest.

“Toast and jelly,” I whispered.

“Gotcha,” he said, letting me go but his hand came up, his fingers gliding along my jaw in a touch that was there then gone physically. But the feeling of it remained, it tingled and it tingled in a nice way.

He turned to the counter and slid the toaster from the wall along the counter. Then he opened a cupboard and took down the bread.

“Thought I’d show you the bluff this morning,” he said and I stood there, watching him put slices of bread in the toaster, my mind blank.

Well, my mind was blank except for the fact that he was wearing flannel pajama bottoms, drawstring, a checked pattern in navy blue and charcoal gray on a lighter gray background. With these he was also wearing a gray t-shirt, it fit snug across his chest and tight around his bulging biceps.

I didn’t think much of men’s pajamas, ever. Only Max could make pajamas, even every day, normal pajama bottoms and a t-shirt like the ones he was wearing, look so darned good.

Then my mind moved to my nightgown, which was another purchase I’d made for the trip. Cotton, pale pink, spaghetti straps, the bodice fit close to my breasts, the back cut low, under my shoulder blades. The rest was empire waist, an A-line down to my upper thighs. The hem and the bodice were edged in a teeny-tiny line of cream lace.

Then my mind moved to wondering what Max thought of my nightgown and me in it.

Then I noticed he wasn’t paying a lot of attention, he was getting out the butter and jelly. This was disappointing since it came to me that I wanted him to like me in my new, cute, little, Colorado adventure nightgown. I didn’t normally wear nightgowns. I usually wore mostly what he was wearing except in girl style.

His eyes came to me and he called, “Hello? Nina?”

My body jolted and I asked, “What?”

He grinned and asked back, “Baby, you awake?”

“Um…”

“Sit down.”

“But –”

“Sit down.”

“All right,” I muttered, thinking that was a good idea and walked out of the kitchen and to a stool. Then I sat down.

The toast came up, Max pulled out a plate, put the toast on it, buttered it (with far more butter than necessary) and then put jelly on it (with a considerable amount of jelly, but I wasn’t complaining).

Then he turned and slid the plate in front of me and went back to the coffeepot.

“Nina, the bluff?” he asked.

“Sorry?”

He poured coffee in a mug, spooned in a sugar and went to the fridge, pulling out the milk then he said, “I want you to come with me to the bluff.”

“What bluff?” I asked, my eyes on what he was doing, the toast close to my mouth, I took a bite.

Grape jelly. Ambrosia.

“Edge of my land, I want you to see it,” he said, splashing milk into the mug, doing a swirl with a spoon and then turning to me and setting it in front of me.

I lost my concentration on the conversation and stared at the coffee Max set on the counter.

Once. He’d poured me coffee once. And he knew how I took it.

Niles had done it a hundred times and he never bothered to remember.

“Jesus, Nina,” Max said and it sounded like he was laughing through the words.

I shook my head and looked at him to see he was, indeed, laughing through the words.

“What’s funny?” I asked.

“You. You’re a zombie in the morning.”

I felt my brows draw together and I said, “No, I’m not.”

His response: “Babe,” and then a grin.

He turned to the coffeepot, poured another mug, black, no sugar, sipped it and slid some more bread in the toaster.

“Dress warm,” he said, turning back to me and leaning his hips against the counter, “and bring your camera if you got one.”

“My camera?”

“Views at the bluff, you’ll want a photo.”

I decided I needed caffeine so I dropped my toast, grabbed my mug, took a sip then another one because Max made good coffee.

Was I going to some bluff with him?

No, I was not.

Yet, I kind of wanted to. I’d never been to a bluff in the Colorado Mountains. I wasn’t sure I’d ever been to any bluff anywhere. Actually, I wasn’t entirely certain what a bluff was.

And I was on an adventure, wasn’t I? I was living my life, clearing the cobwebs, experiencing new things. I could move to the hotel in town or drive to Denver after Max showed me his bluff.

“All right,” I said on another sip of my coffee and then I took another bite of the delicious buttery, jellied toast.

Okay, so I was being an idiot. I could be an idiot for a few hours to see a bluff. Then after allowing myself to be an idiot, I could go back to being a smart, sane, rational person again. But being smart, sane and rational was boring, I’d been doing that for awhile and I could use a break, so I was going to give myself one.

“That was easy,” Max commented and I took another bite of toast and looked at him.

I chewed, swallowed and asked, “What?”

He shook his head slowly and muttered, “Nothin’ darlin’.”

Then he took a sip from his coffee and his eyes went over my shoulder, his brows drew together and I watched his body get tight.

It was a fascinating, even thrilling, but somewhat scary sight to see. He had a powerful body and seeing it come alert like that in an instant was remarkable.

“What the fuck?” he murmured and I dragged my eyes away from his body, turned on my stool, toast in hand, and looked out the window.

Parking by the Cherokee was an army green SUV, police lights at the top, big star insignia on the door.

At the sight, I, too, felt my body get tight.

“Is that the police?” I asked, even though it obviously was.

“Yeah,” Max said softly but I could hear he was on the move.

A man got out of the SUV, jeans, heavy flannel shirt, padded vest, cowboy boots, badge and gun on his belt. He was average height, salt in his pepper hair, a bit of a beer belly growing over his mammoth belt buckle but he still looked fit. He gazed up at the A-Frame and then headed up the stairs.

Max had the door open before he got there. I stayed frozen on my stool watching this play out.

“Mick,” Max greeted the man.

“Max,” the man greeted back, walking in through the open door.

“What’s up?” Max asked.

Mick’s eyes came to me and it was then too slowly I realized I was in a little, pale pink nightgown.

He looked back to Max apparently unsurprised Max had a woman in a little, pale pink nightgown sitting at a stool by his kitchen and he announced, “Something’s happened.”

Max shut the door on the cold air, straightened, planted his feet and crossed his arms on his chest before he asked, “What?”

Mick cleared his throat and his eyes came to me.

“That’s Nina Sheridan,” Max told him.

“Hey there, Miss Sheridan,” Mick said to me.

I decided not to correct him about the “Miss” and instead invited, “Please call me Nina.”

“All right, Nina,” Mick returned with an uncomfortable smile which made me, already ill at ease because of a morning visit from a police officer, more so.

“What’s up?” Max asked again and I wondered if I should run upstairs, put on a cardigan, my robe, maybe some jeans, a snowsuit (though, I didn’t have one of those).

Mick walked further into the house in my direction but turned back to Max.

“Gotta ask you a few questions,” he said and I decided not to go get dressed. The way he said that, I decided to stay right where I was.

“What questions?” Max asked, also walking in but he came direct to me, positioning himself behind my stool so close I could feel his warmth at my back.

Mick took this as an invitation to come in further and he did, stopping about three feet away.

“Gotta know where you were last night around two, three in the mornin’,” Mick said.

I felt myself still and I stared at Mick noting he was uncomfortable and not hiding it.

“What’s this about?” Max asked and I could tell by his voice he was not happy and also not hiding it.

“Just answer, Max,” Mick said softly.

“In bed,” Max said, his gravelly voice curt and Mick’s eyes darted to me then back to Max.

“Asleep?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Max answered.

“Sorry, Nina,” Mick’s gaze came back to me, his eyes dropping to my nightgown for the barest of seconds before coming back to my face and he continued. “Could you corroborate that?”

“What’s this about?” Max repeated.

But at the same time I said quickly, “Yes, I can.”

“You sure?” Mick asked me.

“Of course I’m sure,” I said firmly.

“Were you asleep too?” Mick pressed and my back straightened.

“Mick,” Max was obviously losing patience, “what the fuck’s this about?”

But again I spoke quickly. “No, I wasn’t asleep.” Mick opened his mouth to speak but I kept talking. “I’m here from England, I’ve got jetlag. I woke up around two in the morning, nine o’clock my time, and stayed awake until dawn. Max was with me the whole time.”

Mick’s face and body visibly relaxed, relief washing through him and he nodded.

“Now you wanna tell me what this is about?” Max’s patience was gone, he sounded angry.

Mick’s eyes moved to him. “Curtis Dodd was killed early this mornin’.”

I heard Max pull in breath and even though I didn’t know who Curtis Dodd was, I felt my eyes get wide.

“You’re shittin’ me,” Max said quietly.

“Wish I was,” Mick replied.

Then Max asked, “Murdered?”

“Yep,” Mick answered.

“And you come to visit me?” Max didn’t sound angry anymore, he just was. I heard it and felt it.

“Now Max, just procedure. Everyone knows you don’t get along with Dodd.” Mick’s tone was placating.

“Yeah, neither does most of the town,” Max returned.

“Yeah, that’s why I got deputies visiting a lotta folk. You’re my third this mornin’,” Mick explained.

Well, at least that was something.

“What happened?” I asked in order to turn the conversation and hopefully diffuse the situation.

“Dodd was shot,” Mick answered.

“Where?” Max asked.

“His house, guy broke in,” Mick answered.

Max came closer, his body touching my back and I could feel something strange coming from him.

“Where was Bitsy?” Max went on, his voice cautious or maybe concerned.

“Visitin’ her sister, she don’t like the spring break tourist season. Too many kids, teenagers gettin’ sloshed.” I felt something coming from Max, I didn’t know what it was but it was also coming from Mick. He was uncomfortable again for some reason that was different than before and he hurried on. “You know she goes down to Arizona for a coupla months every March and April.”

I felt Max relax before he asked, “Who found him then?”

Mick shifted on his feet and I knew he would have adjusted his collar if he didn’t think it would give him away.

“Dodd wasn’t exactly alone,” Mick muttered.

“Fuckin’ hell,” Max muttered back but his mutter was clipped and annoyed. “Shauna.”

Surprise hit me and I looked at Mick nodding then over my shoulder at Max’s hard, angry face.

“Shauna said he heard the break in and went to investigate then she heard the shots. Lucky for her, seems the killer didn’t know she was there, just did Dodd and then took off. Hearin’ the shots, she was scared shitless. Took her awhile to get her shit together to leave the bedroom, find Dodd then call it in. She was pretty shaken up. Still is.”

“Bet she is,” Max muttered like he did indeed bet she was and he didn’t give a damn.

“What about Harry? I thought she was with Harry,” I asked stupidly, looking over my shoulder at Max and his eyes came to me then his hand came to my waist and he gave me a squeeze. He didn’t have to answer, that was answer enough. Shauna was stepping out on goofy, sweet Harry. Then I whispered, “Poor Harry.”

“Yeah, poor Harry,” Max replied, his voice quiet.

I looked back at Mick and added, “And poor um… Curtis Dodd.”

Mick examined me a second then his face split in a genuine, amused grin before his gaze shifted up to Max.

“Nina’s new around here, I’m guessin’,” he noted.

“Yeah,” Max answered.

“I’m sorry?” I asked and Mick looked at me.

“There’s about two people in a four county area that’d say, at learnin’ the news that Curtis Dodd was murdered, ‘Poor Curtis Dodd’. You and Shauna. You because you don’t know him, Shauna because she was sleepin’ with him.”

“Oh,” I mumbled and wondered about Curtis Dodd.

“You want coffee?” Max asked and Mick shook his head.

“Gonna be a busy day, gotta get on my way.”

“You have a travel mug in your truck?” I asked and Mick looked at me.

“Yeah,” he said.

“If you’ll go get it, we’ll give you a warm up.”

Mick’s face changed, his eyes cut to Max then back to me. He smiled and said softly, “Be kind of you.”

“Well, not really. Max made the coffee though I think he used coffee from my grocery stash. I’m finding Max isn’t good with grocery boundaries.”

A short, surprised laugh escaped Mick as his eyes shot to Max.

Max moved to my side and slung an arm around my shoulders, noting, “You’ll find, Mick, that Nina’s somethin’ else.”

My head tipped back and I looked at Max. “What does that mean?”

“Relax, Duchess,” Max grinned at me, “it was a compliment.”

“It didn’t sound like one,” I retorted.

He bent at the waist and his face got close. “Well, it was.”

Mick cleared his throat and I decided to let it go. It was rude, arguing in front of other people, especially people you didn’t know.

I looked at Mick and prompted, “Your travel mug, officer?”

“Call me Mick.”

I doubted I’d ever see him again but on a smile I said courteously, “All right, Mick.”

Mick went to get his mug, I went to the coffeepot, Max stood behind my stool and watched Mick.

“You okay?” I called.

“Shauna’s a fuckin’ bitch,” Max replied.

This was true therefore I had no comment.

Max turned to me. “Bitsy, Dodd’s wife, she’s disabled.”

I blinked then I asked, “What?”

“Disabled, car wreck, ten years ago. Paralyzed from the waist down.”

“Oh my,” I whispered and Mick came in, interrupting our conversation.

“Thanks for this, been up since way before dawn. Figure coffee’ll be my saving grace the next few days,” he remarked, coming to me.

I poured him coffee, trying to ignore the fact that I still hadn’t put on any clothes and was in a short, cotton nightgown.

Mick didn’t act like he noticed it and I guessed since he was a cop he pretty much saw it all. He told me he took two sugars and a “slug” of milk. I gave it to him then gave him my farewell. Max walked him to the door, said his good-byes, stood in it as Mick jogged to his SUV and only closed it when Mick started up the truck, gave a wave and started to reverse.

Max joined me in the kitchen, reached around me and grabbed his mug. Then he leaned a hip against the counter and looking up at him I did the same.

“Bitsy?” I prompted, curious. “And Shauna?”

“Bitsy’s sweet, I’ve known her since we were kids, she’s lived in town her whole life, everyone loves her. Shauna…” He didn’t finish, I nodded that I understood and Max went on. “Dodd’s loaded. Shauna likes that. Harry’s pretty loaded too but not like Dodd.”

“You’re loaded too,” I said to him and he looked down at me.

“That I ain’t, Duchess,” he said honestly.

“According to Shauna, you’re sitting on millions of dollars worth of land.”

I watched his face close down and he said, “Yeah, if I sell it.”

“And Shauna wanted you to do that,” I guessed.

“Yeah.”

“To Dodd,” I guessed again.

“Yeah.”

I was right, Shauna was a bitch. She might be more than a bitch but I wasn’t sure what that was.

“Tangled web,” I whispered.

“It was then I scraped her off, got myself untangled.”

I looked beyond him out the windows to the view.

There was nothing between him and that glorious view and I figured, for thirty acres all around, nothing beside him or behind him.

Like Harry said, God’s country, unspoiled.

I looked back at Max. “What did Dodd want to do with your land?”

“He had a coupla schemes he was considering. Hotel and guest villas or a small, exclusive housing development.”

I felt my lip curl. Max’s eyes dropped to my mouth and he did two things. He burst out laughing and wound an arm around my waist again bringing our lower bodies close together but this time not in closer proximity, now actually touching.

“Max –” I whispered, my hands going to his arms.

He stopped laughing but smiled down at me. “That’s what I thought, Duchess.”

“What?” I asked, losing track of the conversation what with his biceps under my fingers and his hips fitted to mine.

“Your face, Dodd’s plans, that’s what I thought.”

“Oh.”

He let me go, turned to the coffeepot and ordered, “Finish your toast, get ready, forget this shit, we’re goin’ to the bluff.”

It took me a second before I could get my feet to move but I finally did, went to my stool, finished my toast and then I went to the coffeepot, reaching around Max to give myself a warm up as Max finished his own toast, his eyes pointed out the window, his mind on other things.

Then I took my coffee, walked upstairs, made the bed, grabbed my stuff from the suitcase and locked myself in the bathroom, getting ready to be an idiot and go with Max to the bluff.

***

“I’m sorry?” I shouted over the noise from the snowmobile Max was sitting astride.

“Climb on!” he shouted back and I stared at the snowmobile.

“Can’t we walk?” I asked loudly.

“No.”

“Drive?”

“No.”

I took a step back. “Maybe –”

“Duchess, get… the fuck… on.”

My eyes went to his face and I snapped, “You’re very impatient!”

“Life’s short,” he yelled over the noise. “Don’t got a lot of it to sit and wait for you to climb the fuck on.”

“I’ve never ridden on a snowmobile,” I yelled back.

“Today’s your day.”

“I don’t know if I want to ride on a snowmobile,” I shared.

He muttered something I didn’t catch, tinkered with the snowmobile and the noise stopped. Then he climbed off.

I had found, through the backdoor leading from the utility room that Max shouted through the bathroom door was my way to find him when I finally “fuckin’ got ready”, that Max’s house butted up to a gradual incline covered in pine and aspen but, around the side and up, there was a barn buried in the trees. In this barn were a variety of things including an ATV attached to a snow plough, another ATV with no snow plough, what looked like a car under a tarp and what looked like a motorcycle under another tarp. There was also a snowmobile, though by the time I met Max out there the snowmobile was outside.

Max got close, I tipped my head back and he demanded, “Talk to me.”

“It doesn’t have seatbelts,” I told him and he pressed his lips together, I didn’t know why, maybe irritation, maybe quelling laughter.

“No,” he said when he stopped pressing his lips together, “it doesn’t have seatbelts.”

“Shouldn’t we wear helmets or something?”

He got closer and I would have stepped back but his hand came to the side of my neck, his long fingers sliding up and into my hair behind my ear. His fingers were covered in a leather glove but it still felt good, good enough to root me to the spot.

He dipped his face closer to mine and whispered, “What’re you worried about, baby?”

I took in a breath, let it out and for some reason whispered back honestly, “It’s just scary.”

“I won’t let you get hurt.”

“But –”

“Nina, I promise. I won’t let you get hurt.”

I looked into his eyes and saw they were serious. He wasn’t teasing, he wasn’t impatient, he wasn’t annoyed and he didn’t think I was a scaredy-cat. He was just… serious.

“Okay,” I whispered.

“You gonna climb on?”

I nodded my head under his hand and he smiled.

Then he let me go, I pulled my cream-colored, cable knit, close-fitting cap over my hair, making it bunch out at the sides. Then I pulled on my matching cream mittens. The sound came back when the snowmobile came to life and, reminding myself I was out here for adventure and snowmobiling was definitely adventurous, or at least it was to me, I climbed on.

Max sat up straight, reached back, grabbed my wrists and used them to yank me closer until my crotch was against his behind, my inner thighs running along his outer ones. Then he wrapped my arms around his waist and before I could pull away we were moving. I had no thoughts of pulling away, the minute the snowmobile started going, I held on tighter.

At first I was terrified, my heart lodging firmly in my throat.

Then it filtered through my fear that Max had taken this route before, he knew what he was doing, where he was going and I started to look around.

Then I felt the fear melt away as the trees slid by, the chill wind whipped at my cheeks, my body pressed to Max’s solid one entered my consciousness and I relaxed.

We hit a trail that ran the side of the mountain that had a river running the length of it and the views were unbelievable. So stunning, I didn’t notice the sharp decline that was close to the side of the trail we were gliding across. Instead, I dropped my chin to Max’s shoulder and drank in the view. All thoughts leaked out of my head; there was nothing but Max’s back against my front, my arms around his waist and that wondrous view.

Before I was ready for our ride to end, we hit the bluff by the river, the land seeming to fall away from the side, the vista it exposed heart stopping and Max halted the snowmobile, turning it off.

He sat back but I didn’t take my arms from around his waist mainly because Max was right. The view from here was incredible and I was frozen in wonder. It was one of the most beautiful things I’d ever seen but also the snow and the underlying quiet mixed with the landscape and the sound of the river rushing by it had to be the most beautiful thing I’d ever experienced.

“It’s beautiful,” I whispered, my chin still at his shoulder.

“Yeah,” he agreed, his rough, soft voice bringing me out of my daze and I lifted my head and pulled away, coming off the back of the snowmobile.

I walked close to the edge and stopped, drinking in the view for long moments before I pulled my little digital camera out of my pocket. I started snapping photos knowing the endeavor was useless. No photograph could capture this. This vista had to be experienced.

Max got close to my back and I couldn’t avoid him without going over the edge and, furthermore, his arm came around me at my chest. He pulled me into his front and before I could protest he spoke.

“Dad used to bring us here all the time,” he said quietly.

I stared at the landscape and something about his tone made me drop my camera.

“Us?” I asked though I told myself I was no longer being an idiot, it was worse. I shouldn’t ask, I shouldn’t care, I shouldn’t want to know.

But I did.

His arm tightened around my chest, bringing me closer. “Kami used to bitch constantly all the way. Said she wanted to be with Mom, which meant she wanted to be with her friends in town.”

Before I could bite back the word, I asked, “Kami?”

“My sister.”

“Your Mom didn’t come here with you?” I was looking at the landscape wondering who in their right mind wouldn’t want to go there and mentally kicking myself for my questions, not wanting him to share and really not wanting to be the one who urged him to do so. He was fascinating enough just being him, I didn’t need to hear his life stories.

“Mom and Dad were divorced.”

“Oh,” I said and forced myself to leave it at that.

Max felt like talking, however. “Happened when I was about six, Kami four. Dad and Mom both lived in town but we still only saw Dad every other weekend, unless we ran into him or somethin’ was happenin’ at school.”

“My parents were divorced too,” I told him and then clamped my mouth shut. I didn’t need to know about him and he certainly didn’t need to know about me.

“How old were you?” he asked.

“Young,” I evaded a direct answer.

His arm got tighter, his fingers curling around my shoulder, not happy I avoided a direct answer.

“How old, Duchess?”

I sighed then repeated, “Young,” and before he could prompt further, I went on, “very young. So young, I don’t remember them ever being together.”

“Rough, baby,” he whispered but I didn’t tell him it wasn’t. I didn’t tell him it was sheer luck my father walked out of my life because not far down it, he came right back in.

I decided to change the subject and remarked, “It’s lovely, your Dad being able to give you this.” I motioned to the panorama with my hand.

“Yeah, except it came to me because he died.”

My body jolted and I turned in the curve of his arm so I was facing him.

“Sorry?”

“I inherited the land when he died.”

His face was blank which gave away the depth of emotion he was hiding.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered.

“Long time ago, honey.”

“I’m still sorry.”

His arm around my shoulders gave me a squeeze and his other hand went to my waist.

I edged back a bit, he gave me some space but not much so I was forced to stop when he stopped giving me leeway.

“But, I meant,” I went on. “What’s lovely is that, when he was alive, he could give you this, bring you and your sister here.”

He nodded and looked over my head to the view. “This was Dad’s favorite place. He wanted to build a house on the land. All his life he wanted that. Couldn’t do it but he talked about it all the time. But he’d never touch this place. Told me never to do it either.”

There was something impressive and moving about Max building a house on the land where his father wanted to build, not to mention doing it with his own two hands.

“Your sister get land too?” I asked and his eyes came down to me for a second before they went back to the view.

“Nope.”

“He gave it all to you?”

“Yep.”

“Wow.”

His arm left from my shoulder but only so his hand could slide into the hair under my cap as his other hand moved around my waist.

“She got everything else, his house in town, car –”

“The land is better,” I announced, even though I had no idea what kind of house his father had or what kind of car. It could be a mansion and a Maserati, the land still would have been better.

Max grinned down at me and agreed, “Yeah.” Then he continued, his eyes going over my shoulder, his expression moving far away. “She was pissed, though she never gave a shit about this place. She did know what it was worth.”

I pressed my lips together to stop myself from asking questions.

Max didn’t need me to ask questions and he looked back to me. “She’d sell it off, Dad knew that, even said it in his will, explainin’ things. So he gave it to me.”

“Did he make it a condition you never sell it?”

Max shook his head. “Just knew I’d never sell,” his eyes went back over my shoulder, “and I never will.”

“I wouldn’t either,” I whispered and then bit the inside of my lip to remind myself to stop talking, mainly because Max looked back at me and his face had gotten soft, but his eyes had gone intense and his look struck me deep but in a good, warm, happy way.

“Been in my family since 1892,” he told me.

My eyes grew wide and I asked, “Really?”

He grinned again and said, “Yeah, Duchess.”

I opened my mouth to speak, put an end to this intimate tête-à-tête which I was enjoying too much and I knew I shouldn’t let myself, when we both heard, “Max!”

Max let me go with one arm but the hand at my neck slid around my shoulders as he moved to my side and looked up the trail.

“Hey Cotton,” Max said to a man who looked like he should be called Cotton.

Cotton looked like Santa Claus, lots of white hair and a thick, full white beard that was a bit overlong, and one mustn’t forget the big jolly belly which Cotton definitely had. But he wasn’t wearing a red suit, he was wearing a pair of jeans, a huge parka and snow boots.

“Heya,” Cotton said, eyes on me, ten feet away but I could see his nose and cheeks were red, just like Santa’s.

“Hello.”

“Cotton, this is –” Max started but Cotton talked over him.

“Yeah, Nina, I know.”

“What –” I began but Max gave me a squeeze.

“Trudy’s Cotton’s granddaughter,” Max explained.

“Oh,” I muttered.

“Small town,” Cotton noted, stopping close, “we talk. Get used to it.”

“Oh…” I said slowly and finished, “kay,” uncertain I’d be around long enough to get used to it but I decided against sharing that with Cotton.

“Give me your camera, I’ll take a picture of you both,” Cotton dipped his head to my camera.

I got stiff. A picture of me and Max on Max’s bluff? I didn’t think so. And I didn’t think so mainly because the very thought of having a photo of Max and me, together on his beautiful bluff, made me want it so badly I could taste it in my mouth and I knew that was wrong, wrong, wrong.

“Um… that’s okay, I took some shots.”

“Duchess –” Max said but Cotton interrupted him.

“Give me your camera, girl.”

“Really, that’s okay,” I said.

“Nina, this is Jimmy Cotton,” Max told me under his breath, my body froze and I stared.

When I could again speak, I whispered, “No kidding?”

“Yeah, no kidding,” Max said back on a chuckle.

I stared at Santa Man.

Jimmy Cotton, the great American photographer. I’d seen three of his exhibitions, one at the Smithsonian, one at the Victoria and Albert and one at The Met. He was a national treasure and his pictures were revered, including by me. I bought one of his calendars every year and had one of his Smithsonian posters framed and in my hallway at home.

He was also a recluse, never came to showings, never did interviews, famously eschewed the world that adored him. I didn’t think I’d ever seen a picture of him, not even when he was young. I knew he lived in the Colorado Rockies, most of his photos were of the mountains, but I obviously had no idea he lived here.

“I’m… I’m… so pleased to meet you,” I stuttered, feeling stupid and shy, both at the same time. “I saw your exhibitions at the Smithsonian and the one at the Victoria and Albert and –”

“V&A?” he asked, his eyes narrowing.

“Yes, it was spectacular. I was… it was amazing,” I replied.

“Got a few of those they showed at the V&A up at my place. I’ll go through my barn, wrap one up, bring it over to Max’s.”

My mouth fell open, I felt it but I couldn’t do anything about it.

Max started chuckling and gave my arm a squeeze. “Give him your camera, honey.”

Automatically, my hand holding the camera lifted up, Jimmy Cotton came forward, took my stupid, little, digital camera in his artisan’s hand and took several steps back. I was so stunned that Jimmy Cotton was holding my camera, I didn’t fight against Max curling me so my front was tucked into his side, his arm tight around my shoulders, fingers shifting my hair around to bunch at my neck under his hand, forcing my cheek to his shoulder, his other hand going around my waist.

“Smile,” Jimmy Cotton, the Jimmy Cotton, called from behind my camera and I smiled with all the happiness I felt that none other than Jimmy Cotton was taking my picture (not to mention, it felt good standing like that in Max’s arms).

“That’ll be a good one,” Jimmy Cotton muttered, fiddling with my camera before he stepped forward and handed it back to me.

I took it thinking maybe I could die right there on the spot and do it happily, considering Jimmy Cotton just took my photo. Though that would mean I wouldn’t have the chance to get his photo printed and hermetically sealed.

“You hear about Dodd?” Cotton asked Max and Max kept the arm around my shoulders, hand curled around my neck but his other hand dropped away.

“Yeah.”

“Thought the sun shone brighter when I woke up this mornin’,” Cotton mumbled and I let out a little, surprised giggle.

“He was an ass,” Cotton told me.

“I’m beginning to get that picture,” I said back.

“Mick came up to the house this mornin’, luckily Nina’s got jetlag and she could tell him she was awake and in bed with me when the deed was done.”

Cotton’s face got hard and he asked, “What in the sam hill is Mickey doin’, askin’ you for an alibi?”

I was stuck on Max telling Jimmy Cotton (of all people) I was in bed with him but Max didn’t seem to feel my displeasure which I was pretty certain was so extreme it should be felt and he spoke to Cotton.

“Not a secret we don’t get along.”

“Not a secret you ain’t the type of man to do that kind of thing.”

“Cotton –” Max started.

“Especially you,” Cotton went on.

“Jimmy –”

“Especially with Dodd,” Cotton continued then looked at me. “Max had far more reason ten years ago to pull a trigger and take out that jackass, dang nab it,” he looked back at Max, “and Mickey knows it.”

“He’s just doin’ his job,” Max said but I was intrigued at what Cotton said. I’d heard the words “ten years ago” recently and just now and that seemed an interesting coincidence.

Unfortunately, Cotton was miffed and I couldn’t get a word in to ask him to explain.

“Got a lot of nerve, showin’ at your place.”

“I wasn’t his first visit.”

“And won’t be his last,” Cotton looked at me, “Dodd wasn’t much liked by anyone. Hell, Mickey could have come to visit me.”

“You don’t own a gun, Cotton, you’re a pacifist, non-violent, remember?” Max reminded him.

“Ever a man to test the mettle of pacifism and non-violence, it was Curtis Dodd,” Cotton shot back.

Max chuckled, I waited for more information to be shared but both men settled into silence.

It was either ask, when I told myself I didn’t want to know, or keep silent. It took a lot of effort, I really wanted to know about ten years ago, Max and Curtis Dodd, but I kept silent.

“Welp, you two young ‘uns don’t need an old man spoilin’ the mood, I’ll just be gettin’ on.”

“You aren’t spoiling the mood,” I told him quickly and he smiled at me.

“Any talk spoils that,” he said, dipping his head to the vista behind me. “That, you experience in silence or, better yet, with someone that means somethin’ to you.” For some reason, his eyes slid to Max when he said his last before he looked back to me and concluded, “Therefore, I best be gettin’ on.”

I didn’t share that I barely knew Max therefore he didn’t mean anything to me (at least I was telling myself that) but Cotton was on the move and Max had bid him good-bye.

“It was an honor to meet you, Cotton,” I called after him, he stopped and turned back.

Then he asked the bizarre question, “Yeah? Why?”

“Because…” I felt funny under his strangely intense scrutiny and finished lamely, “you’re Jimmy Cotton.”

“Just a man.”

“A man with a way with a camera.”

“Lotsa those,” Cotton said dismissively, clearly not one who enjoyed praise from an inexpert like me but probably, I was guessing, from anyone.

“I’m sorry,” I said softly but loud enough for him to hear. “I’ve been to my fair share of exhibitions, only yours made my heart hurt because my system couldn’t process the beauty that met my eyes.”

Max went still at my side and Cotton pulled in such a deep breath, his chest puffed out.

“So,” I kept talking softly, “you’re not just a man with a camera. Not to me. You’re Jimmy Cotton, your photographs gave me that, I loved it, I’m grateful and because of that, I’m honored to meet you.”

He watched me for several moments, the old man cantankerous look he’d perfected slipping, his face getting soft. He tipped his chin up at me, gave a short wave, turned, climbing, and he rounded the bluff.

I watched him go and I suspected Max did too.

I watched longer because I felt Max’s arm give me a squeeze to get my attention.

“Ready to go back?” he asked when I looked up at him.

“No,” I blurted, his eyebrows came up in question and then I blew out a sigh before suggesting, “Can we ride around on the snowmobile for awhile?”

He grinned then offered, “You want me to teach you how to drive?”

I shook my head fast and his grin turned to a smile.

“Baby steps,” I said to him.

“You got it, Duchess,” he replied, walked me to the snowmobile, we got on and Max drove me around for a good, long while and, I had to admit, I enjoyed every, single moment.

***

I rinsed the lunch plates in Max’s kitchen sink and told myself it was high time that I got back to being a smart, sane, rational person again.

We’d driven around in the mountains on his snowmobile for awhile, Max showing me more views, a few more of his favorite places, all of them beautiful, none of them quite as spectacular as the bluff. I took some photos, even one of Max I told myself I shouldn’t take and hoped he didn’t notice I was taking it. He was gazing over a valley, his handsome profile relaxed and, well… handsome. Too handsome not to capture on film with that valley spread out behind him, so I did and I did it quickly, prepared to pretend I was only taking a photo of the valley.

Then we rode back and I put together a late lunch while Max put away the snowmobile then came in and built a fire in the grate in the living room.

We ate the shrimp, avocado and mayo sandwiches on white I made, me at my stool, Max standing at the counter in front of me, both of us silent. Max, seemingly comfortably so, me, not at all.

When he finished eating, I offered, “If you’ll fire up the computer while I clean up the kitchen, I’ll change your password.”

“Sounds good,” he muttered, sucking back a swig of cola and rounding the bar. I felt him get close to me as he went and was in the act of turning to him when I felt his hand curl around my neck, palm at my throat then his lips were at my hair at the top of my head. His fingers gave my neck a squeeze, he let go and without a word he walked away.

I sat there immobilized, uncertain what to make of Max’s casual ability to be affectionate in pretty much every way, verbally, physically, with his face, his eyes. I knew how it made me feel, which was a dangerous feeling and I knew it would be dangerously easy to get used to it, I just didn’t know what to make of it.

Yes, it was time to be smart, sane and rational and get out of there before I let my mind wander to what I wanted to make of it.

I put the dishes in the dishwasher, wiped down the counters and grabbed my diet cola.

By the time I hit the alcove, Max was sitting at the roll top, the screen on the computer was lit.

“What do you want me to change it to?” I asked as he rose from the chair and held its back for me to sit in it so I did and he stood at my side.

“I’m thinkin’ shebitchfromhell666 might continue to be a reminder of Shauna,” Max muttered drily.

I pressed my lips together in order not to laugh and slid my eyes up to look at him.

Then I unpressed my lips and asked, “So what do you want?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“It has to be something you can remember.”

“Nina, honestly, it doesn’t matter. It could be one, two, three, four.”

I shook my head in horror and advised, “It can’t be one, two, three, four. That’s way too easy to hack.”

“Considerin’ I check my e-mail about once every three months, dump most of it, check the weather every once in awhile and got nothin’ else on there, ain’t nothin’ to hack.”

I sighed and explained, “Yes but you rent this place and other people could use it, look up porn, maybe even icky stuff.”

He grinned. “Icky stuff?”

I ignored his grin and the way it communicated he thought I was adorable (and the way that made me feel) and continued, “Icky stuff, icky stuff that could get you into trouble. Don’t you watch television?”

“Not much.”

“Well, your every day pedophile probably wouldn’t hesitate renting a beautiful, A-Frame in the mountains and enjoying himself by accessing your one, two, three, four computer.”

“Jesus, darlin’.”

“Sick people are everywhere. Just watch Criminal Minds.”

“If that’s their subject matter, I’m thinkin’ I’ll avoid it.”

“It’s really good,” I told him, warming to my topic because I liked that show and therefore I idiotically lost myself and did not keep my mouth shut. “They have this really smart, genius guy who’s fascinating. And this really sharp, tough lady. And this hilarious computer mastermind who wears funky clothes and always has perfect lipstick. And they almost always get the bad guy.”

He was grinning down at me again when he muttered, “Sounds like I’m missin’ out.”

“It’s worth it just for Penelope Garcia’s lipstick and the stuff she wears in her hair, trust me,” I shared.

I stopped talking when I saw his eyes start glittering and his body start shaking and his face definitely said he thought I was adorable.

Instead, I looked at the computer and got down to business, clicking through the screens to take me to the window that changed the password and I asked, “What’s your favorite number?”

“Lucky number’s three.”

I pulled in breath through my nostrils. That was my favorite number.

And it was Charlie’s.

“Okay, then, something three…” I prompted.

“Make it up, Nina.”

“Give me something to go on.”

“Just make it up, I’ll write it down and hide it somewhere.”

I looked up at him. “Max –”

He cut me off and said, “Three duchess three.”

I wasn’t certain but I was pretty sure I felt the blood draining from my face.

I didn’t shift my eyes from the screen when I asked, “Sorry?”

“Three duchess three, I won’t forget that.”

“But –”

“Type it in, babe.”

“But, Max –”

“Type it in.”

I sat there paralyzed and when I didn’t move Max leaned into me, picking out the letters on the keyboard with one finger then again to confirm then his hand covered mine on the mouse and he clicked “OK”.

His hand still on mine on the mouse, he twisted his head to look at me and he said, “That should do it.”

“I have to go,” I blurted and watched his brows draw together.

“What?”

I slid my hand from under his, rolled the chair away as he straightened and I stood, repeating, “I’ve got to go.” I held out my hand, palm up and requested, “Can I have my car keys?”

His brows were still knitted when he asked, “Where you goin’?”

“To town.”

“To shop?”

“To check into the hotel.”

He took a step toward me murmuring, “Duchess.”

I took a step back.

He stopped, his brows snapped together again and his face grew dark.

“What the fuck?”

“Thanks for, you know, today and last night and everything but, I have to go.”

“Why?”

Why?

There were so many reasons we’d both be eighty if I took the time to enumerate them all.

“I just do.”

“Give me a reason.”

“Max –”

“One,” he demanded firmly.

“Okay,” I said to get it over with, “maybe I’ve got it wrong, what’s happening here, but if I don’t perhaps I should remind you, I’m wearing another man’s engagement ring.”

“You don’t gotta remind me, Duchess, you gotta remind you.”

Oh drat.

I was getting angry, I could feel it.

“I’m sorry?” I said quietly.

“No woman had my ring on her finger when I got into bed with you last night.”

“Yes, well,” I leaned toward him, “I’m glad you brought that up.”

“Because you’re pissed I did it?”

“Yes!”

“Then why’d you wake up at two and stay in bed with me until mornin’?”

I stared at him at a loss for words mainly because any explanation I could give him I was never going to give him. And I realized, belatedly, even if it was to give him something as important as a rock solid alibi when the police popped by to question him as a potential murder suspect, perhaps I shouldn’t have shared that tidbit.

Then I announced, “I’m leaving,” and I started to walk around him but he took a quick step to his left and caught me by the waist, pulling me in front of him. “Take your hands off me!” I snapped but his arms wrapped around me tight, bringing me up full frontal to his body.

“This is something we both wanna explore,” he declared, my eyes narrowed and I wedged my arms between us, my hands against his chest.

“This?”

“What we got, what’s happenin’ here, you and me.”

“It is not!”

“No?”

“No.”

He looked over my head and clipped out, “Christ, you’re full of shit.”

“I am not!”

He looked back at me, giving me a shake. “Oh yeah, Nina, you are.”

“You don’t even know me!”

“I know enough I wanna know more.”

“Well, you can’t know more. I’m leaving.”

“You’re stayin’.”

“You can’t keep me here.”

“I can.”

“That’s –”

“And you wanna stay.”

I shook my head in disbelief and cried, “You’re infuriating!”

“And you love every fuckin’ second.”

My mouth made a “poof” noise at such a display of arrogance and I pushed against his chest. His hand slid up my spine, bringing me closer, pinning my hands between us as I watched his neck bend.

I had a feeling I knew where this was going.

“Max,” I warned, my body bracing.

“Quiet,” he ordered softly. “Got a point to make, honey.”

“Max!” I snapped.

“Let’s see how good this could be,” he muttered, his eyes on my mouth and I knew, I just knew, he was going to kiss me.

“Max, don’t you –”

But his fingers had sifted into my hair against my scalp cupping my head, holding me steady and his mouth came down on mine, cutting off my words.

And considering my mouth was open, he didn’t miss the opportunity to slide his tongue inside.

My body froze when his tongue touched mine.

Then my hands curled into his shirt and my body melted.

His tongue felt good, it tasted good, it was all just good. Not just good. It was better than good. I missed this, I loved kissing and, Lord, did I miss it.

My eyes drifted closed, my head tilted and that was it, I was lost.

And then Max really kissed me and I became so lost, I never wanted to be found.

It wasn’t good.

It was astounding. He was just as amazing a kisser as he looked amazing, maybe more, and that was saying something.

My toes curled in my boots, my hands glided up his chest to wrap my arms around his neck, my body pressed the length of his and my stomach did a somersault before it plummeted in a delicious way. I felt a tingle between my legs that was more than delicious, it was luscious and, given all of that, I had no choice but to open myself up to him.

And I did.

When I did, Max took and he took and he took. And I gave and I didn’t care if he drained me dry, in fact, I wanted him to.

His mouth broke from mine, his head came up, my fingers which were in his hair put on pressure and he whispered, his gravelly voice actually hoarse, “Jesus, honey.”

“More,” I breathed, not even opening my eyes and his mouth came back to mine, he gave me what I wanted and I loved every bleeding second.

Somewhere in the back of my head, I realized he was moving, taking me with him, shuffling us what I understood was toward the couch and I was happy to be going there, couldn’t wait to get there, couldn’t wait to explore Max more and let him explore me, when the phone rang.

On the second ring, Max’s head came up and he stopped our movement.

“Don’t.” It sounded like a plea and it was coming from my mouth

“I’ve gotta, Duchess.” His voice was still rough and he sounded like he didn’t want to but when his arm left my waist and his palm touched my cheek, I opened my eyes and saw in his face that I was right, he didn’t want to but he had to. “Don’t lose that look,” he ordered, bent forward, kissed my forehead then let me go and with long strides, walked to the phone on top of the roll top.

I watched him go and listened to him answer with a, “Yeah?”

I shook my head trying to clear it but I could still feel his arms around me; his lips on mine; his tongue in my mouth; his soft, thick hair under my hands; his hard body against mine and I wanted it back. I couldn’t shake off that feeling of want even though I tried. It was like it was born in me, natural, everything I was or everything I was meant to be and there was no way to get rid of it.

“Now?” Max asked, sounding incredulous and a bit annoyed but also sounding like he was trying to hide both. “Okay, yeah, calm down. I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.” I stared at him as his eyes sliced to me, his face wasn’t soft with desire like it had been five seconds ago, it was tight and impatient. “Yeah, I said I’d take care of this, I’ll take care of it.” Another pause and he didn’t unlock his eyes from mine before he said softly, “Don’t worry, I’ll be there. Fifteen.”

Then he hit the button for off, it beeped and I felt my body twitch at the sound. Sanity was returning but Max was right in front of me, impeding its progress.

“I gotta go.”

I just nodded.

“I don’t know when I’ll be back.”

I nodded again.

“Duchess, you with me?”

“Yes,” I whispered.

“I’m takin’ your car keys with me,” he announced.

“Okay,” I replied instantly.

His hands came to either side of my head and he tipped it back as he got closer. I saw his face was back to soft and he looked almost relieved.

“I made my point, didn’t I?”

Oh, he made his point.

“Yes,” I whispered again.

“We’ll finish when I get home.”

I didn’t answer. I didn’t know what he meant, finish talking or finish making our way to the couch so I could act like an even bigger idiot and behave like a screaming bitch besides.

“Nina?”

“It sounds like something important.”

“It is or there’s no fuckin’ way I’d go.” His hands at my head brought me closer and he finished, “I’ll explain later.”

“You better get going,” I told him.

I felt one of his hands come down to my neck then his thumb slid along my jaw.

“Be good,” he whispered.

“I’ll try,” I whispered back, his eyes moved over my face then he bent his neck, touched his mouth to mine, giving me an exquisite, sweet, light kiss that was much like his forehead kiss except a whole lot better and let me go.

I watched him go to the closet, he disappeared behind the door, came out, shrugging on a canvas coat, his eyes came to me and he ordered, “Stay awake.”

“Okay.”

He lifted his chin and then he walked out the door.

I wandered to the computer even though I wanted to watch him leave, I didn’t want him to see me watching.

I pulled the chair up to the roll top then I sat down and clicked into the internet browser in order to access my webmail.

I heard the Cherokee depart as I typed in the web address then my username and password. I heard silence when I clicked on “compose” and more silence as I typed in Niles’s e-mail address.

Then I spent the next two hours writing to my fiancé explaining, in detail, what a timeout meant; what it meant that he didn’t know how I took my coffee; what it meant that he didn’t understand how much it hurt when he asked me to sell Charlie’s house; how lonely I was, even when I was with him; how it felt, him not making love to me, being affectionate, making me feel desired or desirable; how much it bothered me that, even though I’d talked to him about all of this, even wrote him other e-mails, it didn’t ever seem to penetrate; and lastly, the part that took the most time, how it wasn’t going to work out between us. Then I told him I’d call him in a few days and we would talk. Then I read it, edited it, read it again, added more, read it again, changed a few things, then I hit send.

It disappeared and I stared at the screen showing a list of my e-mails.

Well done, sweetheart, Charlie whispered in my ear.

He sounded sad but proud.

I started crying.