The Wallflower

Chapter Two

Emma turned the sign over to “Closed”, pulled down the shade and locked the door, sighing in happy exhaustion.

The reverend had loved Simon’s Madonna. She wondered if she was the only one who’d noticed the Madonna looked something like Becky. It had been the only thing that had given her the courage to approach Max; that and the look on Becky’s face when she’d stared at Simon. Of course, the way Simon had followed Becky’s every move hadn’t hurt, either.

Max had been surprisingly easy to talk to, once she got over her initial shyness. His nearness had sent

her heart pounding, tying her tongue in knots, as usual, until his ridiculous announcement that Simon wasn’t for her.

Duh. Simon was for Becky.

She pulled the creamy, lacy shade down over the big picture window, effectively closing her in the twilight gloom of the shop. Becky had already rung out the register and was happily doing the accounts in the back, a pot of coffee and a huge container of Kung Pao chicken at her elbow while Emma finished closing down the front.

Emma loved this time of the evening. The streets were quiet, except for a few people heading either home or to their favorite restaurant for dinner. The soft light of early evening cast a glow over everything it touched, making it seem softer, more romantic. With a sigh, Emma headed into the back to gather up her coat and purse. With a wave to Becky, who waved her fork back with a grin, Emma slipped out of the back of the store.

“Emma.”

Emma shrieked, staggering back and pulling her can of mace out of her pocket before realizing that the man standing in the shadows was Max. “God damn it, Max!”

“Sorry.” He didn’t sound all that sorry; he sounded like he was trying not to laugh. “Don’t break out the grapefruit spoon just yet.”

Her heart was still beating a mile a minute. She put the mace away and glared at him. “What?”

“Well, jeez, is that any way to greet someone who’s here to help you?”

Putting her hand to her chest, Emma glared at him in the dim light. The son of a bitch was laughing at her.

“Help me with what?”

“Getting Becky and Simon together, of course.”

“Huh?” He looked entirely too smug as he moved closer to her.

“You want to get Simon and Becky together? I can help you with that.” He picked up her arm and placed it through his, trapping her hand beneath his own. Suddenly he frowned and looked around.

“Where is Becky, by the way?”

“She’s still inside, working on the accounts,” she answered absently, momentarily distracted by the feel of his arm under her own. It felt like it was hewn from rock, strong and solid and probably immovable.

His face blanked. “You came out here, at night, by yourself.” It wasn’t a question, it was a statement.

He sounded like he couldn’t quite believe his ears.

“Yeah. I do that every night. I’m parked right over there.” She pointed with her free hand and gently tried to extract her other one from his suddenly iron grip. Becky lived in the apartment over the shop while Emma lived in an apartment in a complex on the other side of town. When Becky was done with the accounts, and her Chinese, she’d probably head upstairs to her tiny apartment and veg in front of her TV.

“You carry mace. I assume that means there’s some crime in this area.”

She nodded slowly. “There’s crime everywhere, even here, what with the college nearby.”

He was beginning to worry her. His face was still blank, but something about his eyes had changed.

They glittered strangely, almost as if he were angry. She decided not to tell him why she carried the mace.

“Have you been attacked out here before?”

Emma winced and quickly tried to cover up the telltale sign by babbling. “It’s perfectly safe out here, and Becky keeps an ear out for the sound of my car. Any minute now she’s going to run out here ready to annihilate anyone who’s bothering me, so you might wanna let up on the death grip!” Her wince was now one of pain as his hand squeezed hers in a vice-like grip.

He let go and stared down at her. She could have sworn his eyes were gold in the moonlight before he blinked, the illusion fading back into his normal blue as he prowled around her, circling her like a predator. “Who hurt you, Emma?”

“What is wrong with you?” Emma took back her hand and rubbed it, wondering if she’d have a bruise.

She glared up at him, waiting for an answer.

Max’s frown was fierce. “I want to know who hurt you, Emma. I want to know now.”

The note of command in his voice was one she’d never heard from anyone before. He compelled her to answer him in a primal way, forcing her body back against the brick wall of the shop with his own, looming over her in a way that both frightened and soothed her. Part of her wanted to bow down submissively and answer anything he asked of her. It took every ounce of her will to sniff and reply, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

She saw the shock on his face as she turned her head away, dismissing him. She ducked under his arm and started walking towards her car, her back stiff, her chin high. “You know, not every woman appreciates the caveman routine. Why don’t you try it out on Livia? I’m sure she’d appreciate it!”

She gasped as her body was yanked back into the hardness of his. She could feel him in every atom, as if he was deliberately imprinting himself there. “If I’m reacting this way, how do you think Simon will react when he hears Becky’s here alone?”

Emma gulped. Becky who? Involuntarily her hand came up and grasped the arm around her waist, her nails digging in with pleasure at the strength in it.

“Um, I don’t know?” God, her brains were completely scrambled if that was the best she could do. “Hit her over the head with a club and drag her off by her hair? Not that he’d have all that far to go; she lives over the store, for God’s sake.”

He leaned down, his lips tickling her ear, his hair brushing hers, blending with hers. His other arm came around her waist, pulling her tighter into his body. She felt completely surrounded. She could feel his erection against her lower back, hot and hard as an iron bar, and gulped. “Why do you carry mace, Emma?”

“Why do you care, Max?” She tried to ignore the feel of his lips as he—

Did he just kiss my ear?

“Emma. Tell me what I want to know.”

“And you’ll go away?” She tried to ignore the incredible feeling of him gently rocking her in his arms.

Yeah. That’s it, I’m gonna start struggling any minute now. Any minute…

“Hell, no.” He laughed gruffly. He put his chin on the top of her head and continued to rock her. When her stomach rumbled embarrassingly beneath his hands, he stilled. “Emma? Am I keeping you from your dinner?”

“At this point, you’re keeping me from my dinner AND late night snack.”

“Hmmm. In that case, I suggest we go out to eat. Maybe after I feed you you’ll be more willing to tell me what I want to know.” He sounded positively cheerful as he grabbed her hand, whirled her around and half dragged her towards his blue Durango.

“Gee, Captain Caveman, care to slow down? I didn’t agree to go out to dinner with you.”

He huffed out another laugh and opened the SUV’s door. “In you go!” He gently lifted her into the seat.

“Food. Then fight. Okay?” And with a smile he pushed her legs inside the SUV and shut the door.

She considered opening the door and hopping out, but part of her (okay, the majority of her) wanted to see what the hell Max was up to. Plus, hello! Dinner with Max! Could there be a downside to this?

She snapped on her seat belt as he got into the car. She hadn’t enjoyed sparring with someone this much for a long time. “Don’t think you’re going to get what you want just because you buy me dinner.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Max purred, starting the SUV.

“Oh, boy,” Emma muttered as Max, with another choked off laugh, drove out of the parking lot.

Max pulled the SUV up to his favorite restaurant, Noah’s. He slid out, fully intending to open Emma’s door and assist her down but she beat him to it, hopping out of the cab of his SUV with ease.

“Didn’t your mother ever teach you to let the man open your door for you?” he asked, amused, as he followed her to the doors of the restaurant.

She rolled her eyes at him over her shoulder. “It’s not like this is a date, Max.” She flipped her ponytail back over her shoulder with a defiant flick of her wrist. “It’s more like a kidnapping. With food.”

He had to press his lips together to keep from laughing out loud. “Do you want my help with Simon and Becky, or not?”

“At the rate they’re going we’ll be ninety before they get together, so, yeah, anything that will help speed that up would be good.”

He managed to reach the door before she did, opening it up and placing a hand at the small of her back

as she sailed through. He kept that hand there, reveling in the feel of her strong, sleek back as he maneuvered her towards the hostess.

“Max! Wonderful to see you.”

Max smiled what he called his social smile at Belinda Campbell, hostess at Noah’s. He ignored her curious stare with ease, all of his attention focused on the woman beneath his hand.

“Table for two, Belinda.”

“Coming right up, Max.” Her full red lips curled up with a hint of contempt. “Business dinner, Max?”

Max looked up at Belinda through his lashes, his eyes flashing briefly gold in warning. “Pleasure.”

Just as Emma said, “Business.”

Max turned his attention back to Emma, noted the way her chin was tilted, and grinned. She was still pissed off about being “kidnapped”. “Perhaps both.”

Belinda’s brows rose in disbelief as she gathered their menus. “Right this way.”

As she sashayed across the restaurant to Max’s preferred table, Emma whispered, “Gee, I get the feeling she doesn’t like me.”

“I wouldn’t worry about whether or not Belinda likes you,” Max whispered back as he helped her out of her light jacket and assisted her into her chair. Bending over, he whispered into her ear, delighted when she shivered. “Worry about whether or not I like you.”

He sat himself across from her, enjoying the flush high on her cheekbones. When she cleared her throat and snapped open the menu between them, he nearly growled in frustration. Watching her face, her expressions, the way her eyes lit up or went dreamy, was becoming an obsession.

The more time he spent with her, the more she fascinated him. She amused him with her wit, aroused him with a glance, frustrated him with her avoidance, and forced him to deal with her in a way very few people could. When he’d used his power to force an answer out of her in that alley, she’d actually walked away from him, back turned, head held high.

He still couldn’t decide if he wanted to fuck her or spank her for that.

If he played his cards right, he’d get to do both.

“So, the seafood alfredo is supposed to be really good here,” Emma croaked, her eyes glued to the dinner choices on the page in front of her rather than the dinner of choice sitting across from her.

After a brief hesitation, Max answered, his tone light and easy. “I’m more of a traditionalist myself. I think I’ll go with the manicotti.” He put his menu down, then gently pried hers out of her hands. “Salad or soup?”

“Um, salad, I think.”

Max nodded with satisfaction. When the waiter appeared, he quickly placed their orders, going with wine to drink, chardonnay for her and merlot for himself.

She crossed her arms and glared at him. “What if I wanted something else to drink?”

“I thought, with your scare in the alley, you wouldn’t mind something to help you wind down.” He smiled, sensuous and predatory, nearly causing her to fall off her chair. “Relax, Emma. Enjoy the moment.”

Without thinking, she blurted out the first thing that popped into her head. “Are you flirting with me?”

He blinked, then laughed, low and soft, taking her hand in his and gently stroking her palm with his thumb. She could feel the sensation of his fingers all the way down to her womb. “What do you think?”

“I think I’ll need more wine,” she deadpanned, completely flabbergasted.

Max Cannon was flirting. With her .

When Max chuckled, she tried prying her hand out of his, with no luck. Deciding to completely ignore his heated stare, she tried switching topics. “So, how do you plan on helping me with Simon and Becky?”

She raised her brows in silent command, demanding he answer her while trying to hide the fact that her insides were melting into a puddle of aroused goo.

He leaned back with a sigh. “Actually, I was hoping you had one, and I could just lend a hand.”

“I know Simon is going to the masquerade on Saturday night; do you know what costume he plans on wearing?”

Max frowned at her, thinking. “Technically, the costumes are supposed to be a secret.”

“You’re going as Zorro.”

“Where did you hear that?”

“Livia and Marie were gossiping in the grocery store while I was there.” Emma grimaced, remembering how Livia had treated her that day, with a mixture of false pity and contempt. Livia and Belinda were best friends, which meant that Livia would shortly hear of her little “business” dinner with Max, which meant Livia would be confronting her sometime in the near future. Emma sighed; dealing with Livia in a snit was never a fun time.

He shook his head. “Listening to gossip, Emma?”

His face was mockingly sad, the hint of laughter finally clueing her in. She could practically hear the little light bulb go off over her head. “Let me guess. Simon is Zorro.”

“Got it in one.”

“Wow. Livia’s going to be disappointed.” Emma tried to control her giggle, but it slipped out anyway.

“I think I can live with Livia’s disappointment.” Cradling his glass in one hand, her hand still firmly

clasped in his other, Max took a sip of his wine, looking extremely pleased with himself. “Let me guess, she immediately bought a Spanish senorita?”

“Complete with Spanish comb, mantilla and fan.”

Max confined himself to shaking his head as the waiter arrived with their food. After the waiter left, he let go of her hand so they could both eat. “So, what are you going as?”

His tone was casual, but his look was anything but. “I’m not sure. Becky and I haven’t had a chance to go shopping yet.”

Max’s fork paused. He looked at her, his face filled with unholy amusement. “I have an idea.”

Emma raised her brows in enquiry as she licked a bit of alfredo sauce off of her fork. “What idea?”

Max gazed at her mouth, his eyes darkening with obvious desire. “Hmm?”

Emma snapped her fingers at him. “What idea?”

He looked up, the heat in them nearly scorching her. “I have several ideas,” he purred. “Which would you like to hear first?”

Emma opened her mouth, but nothing came out. With a startled snap, she shut it, turning her attention once again to her dinner to avoid the satisfied male smirk across the table.

After a few minutes of silence, Emma felt like she once again had the power of speech. “So, what’s your idea?” When he looked at her like he wanted to devour her, Emma quickly clarified, “For the masquerade!”

“Becky goes as a female Zorro. If Becky’s uncomfortable with that, we can have Simon change his costume so the two of them match.”

Emma sat back in her chair, frowning in thought. “Becky’s been talking about doing a lady pirate—”

“No.”

Emma blinked slowly, unsure whether or not to be pissed or amused at the firm order. “Okay,” she drawled, “and your suggestion would be?”

“How about a saloon girl?”

Emma choked on her wine. “Um, saloon girl?”

“Yes. Simon can dress as a cowboy. Is there a problem with that?”

Emma bit her lip. “Maybe.” She latched onto the first thing she could think off to change his mind; Becky would never wear the saloon girl outfit in public! She kept the picture of herself in that outfit all the way in the back on the mantelpiece. “Becky’s self-conscious about her lack of…attributes.”

Max looked confused. “Attributes?”

Emma could feel herself turning red. “Boobies,” she hissed, looking around to see if anyone heard her.

Max choked. “She’s worried about her breast size?”

Emma nodded, shushing him with her hand.

Max sighed. “Okay, how about a flapper? Simon can pull off a gangster look, I think.”

Emma thought about dark, dangerous looking Simon and nodded. Suddenly she flapped her hands at him in excitement as she remembered a costume she’d seen on-line. “Oh! What about a fallen angel? I saw this really sexy number that would look incredible on Becky!”

“Have you ever looked at men’s devil costumes? They’re cheesy.” Max frowned in thought. “No, we need something they’ll both be comfortable in.”

Emma grinned. “I saw bat wings he could wear over his shoulders. Put him in a trench coat with the wings, leather pants, bare-chested…” Emma waved a hand in front of her face, making Max scowl.

“Believe me, women will pass out from the heat.”

Max picked up her hand and stared into her eyes. “Really?” he asked softly. With careless elegance, he took her hand to his mouth, gently nibbling the back of her knuckles.

Once again Emma felt her cheeks heat. “Stop that!” She snatched her hand back and put it in her lap for safe-keeping. She cleared her throat and willed herself back into the costume conversation. “Becky has a romantic streak a mile wide. Maybe we can work with that.”

“Hmm. How about Robin Hood and Maid Marian?”

“Done to death.”

“Which leaves out paired vampires?”

“Yup. You know, maybe Lady Zorro isn’t such a bad idea, after all. And even better, Becky knows a bit about fencing, so she’ll be comfortable wearing a sword.”

“She can use the sword on Simon if he doesn’t get the message?”

“Something like that.” Emma sat back with a sigh as the waiter appeared. Both decided on dessert, Emma going for the French silk pie and Max picking raspberry cheesecake. Max had coffee; Emma took another glass of wine.

“The only other thing Becky’s interested in is Trinity from the Matrix. Think Simon wants to be Neo?”

Max shook his head. “As alluring as Becky would be in a leather cat suit, I think Simon would prefer Zorro.”

“Okay. Then it’s settled. I’ll see about getting Becky’s costume.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll pick up Becky’s costume when I pick up your costume.”

Once again she was ready to throttle him. “And what costume will I be wearing?”

Max grinned. “It’s a surprise.”

“A surprise?”

Max picked up her hand and nibbled on her knuckles again, effectively shutting down her brain in the process. “Mm-hmm.”

“Oh.”

With a look of satisfaction, Max put her hand back down on the table. “Are you going to finish your dessert?”

Emma looked down at her pie, suddenly no longer hungry. She took a deep breath and asked the question she knew she was going to have to ask before they ever entered the restaurant. “How will I find you at the masquerade?” At his raised brow she added hastily, “If we’re supposed to make sure Simon and Becky find each other, we need to make sure we can find each other too.”

“Don’t worry, it won’t be a problem.”

Max’s purr sent a shiver through her. “Okay.” Emma bit her lip, wondering if she should ask her next question. “Will your date mind you helping me out? I mean, I wouldn’t want to make things awkward between you and your current girlfriend, whoever she is.”

“Do you think I would ask you out to dinner if I was seeing someone, Emma?”

Emma raised her eyebrows, clearly amused. “Well, if you’d asked me…”

“Emma.”

“I mean, the food part of the kidnapping was kinda nice.”

“Very well. Would I be trying to seduce you if I was seeing someone?”

Emma opened her mouth to make the comment that first sprang to her lips, but seeing the serious expression on his face she bit it back. Instead, she went with her second thought. “I don’t know. You’ve been gone a long time. For all I know, you’re gay.”

It was Max’s turn to open his mouth and have nothing come out.

Emma lifted her hand to the waiter. “Check, please.”

“I’m not gay.” Max stalked to the Durango, trying to decide if he was insulted or not.

Emma shrugged carelessly. “Bi then.”

“Emma!”

He was forced to stop when she collapsed against the side of the car, giggling like a schoolgirl. The only

thing she managed to gasp in between bouts of giggling was, “Oh, God, the look on your face!”

Max shook his head, wondering, knowing she had no idea how few people dared tease him. How the hell had he missed this woman all those years ago? He could have dated Emma back then instead of Livia. He’d have had Emma all these years, laughing at him, teasing him, driving him insane. The thought of his own blindness where she was concerned made him grit his teeth in frustration.

No more. Never again would he allow himself to do without Emma.

Crossing his arms, he leaned against the car door and waited for her to stop laughing. “You finished?” he asked indulgently, his heart beating a strange tattoo at the sound of her laughter.

She wiped the tears away with a final giggle. “Yeah, I think so.”

“Good.” With a swiftness only another Puma could match, Max snatched her close, bent down and kissed her. She barely had time to gasp.

That small gasp of surprise gave him immediate access to her mouth. He stroked inside her, slow and deep, just like he wanted to take her. He savored her taste, wine, chocolate and woman, and his head reeled. When her lips finally began to move against his, he moaned, his cock twitching like she was stroking him there with her wet heat. Her tongue dueled with his with a shyness that once again brought out his protective instincts. Without thought, he turned her so that her back rested against the Durango, his broad shoulders and back hiding her from the view of those in the restaurant.

No one but him would ever get to see her passion again.

He wanted to open the door, lay her down on the seat, and strip her naked. He wanted to be sheathed so far in her body she’d be able to taste him in the back of her throat. He wanted to mark her with his scent, his seed, and his teeth so badly he shook with it.

But they were on a public road, outside a very public restaurant; he couldn’t do any of the things he wanted to do so badly, except…

With a snarl he lifted his mouth from hers and buried it against her throat.

“Max,” she whispered in that soft, husky voice.

He suckled at the sensitive juncture of her throat and shoulder until she lay quiet and panting in his arms, her face buried in his shoulder. Gently he scraped the area with his teeth to prepare her. One hand slid down to cup her ass, reveling in the feel of her full curves; the other held her to him with a grip of iron, hard around her back. He had to concentrate not to dig his claws in and knead. He pushed between her legs with his knee until she was practically riding his thigh. With a rumbling purr he bit down, drawing blood and injecting her with the enzyme that would change her, marking her for all time as his. Her cry was muffled by his shirt; feeling her shivers he realized she was climaxing from the effect of the bite, riding his thigh as his essence and hers mingled.

He lapped at the small wound, not surprised to see it was already closing. With his mark on her and her orgasm, some of his own urgency left him. She was his.