Page 41 of Tempt Me

Her smilelitup herwholeface. “That’ssoromantic.”

Yeah,Maxhadthoughtthattoo.When hewasgrowing up,thatwasall hewanted. Hewanted to find hissoulmateand getmarried,havekids,growold together…until hisparentstold himthey were getting adivorce.Hewas eighteenyearsold andtheillusion offinding his ‘perfectmatch’had been shattered. Hecould havebelieved in itagain if itwasn’tfor Chelsea. She had ground the shatteredpieces of his fantasy underthe heelof herstilettoand laughed.

“Aretheystillmarried?”

“No.”Theword washeavy…sad,almost.“Theygotdivorced about eightyearsago.”

“I’msosorry,Max.”

Helooked ather. “Youwanttoknowwhatthefunnything is?They’restill reallyclose.They have a better relationship nowthan when theywere married.”

Hisrevelationmadeher smile,and herealized helikedbeing theonetomakeherdoit. “Doyou haveanybrothersor sisters?”

“Threebrothers—tripletsifyoucan believeit.”

“Wow. Icouldn’timaginehaving triplet brothers,”sheuttered.“Itwasjustlittleold me growing up,soI find ithard topicturetherebeing someoneelsetosharea bathroomwith.”

Hislipsflexedintoa smileremembering whatitwaslikegrowing up with hisolder brothers.

Being theyoungest,hewasoften pickedon andmadefun of. Thatlasteduntil hewasaboutsixteen. Maxhad started hitting the gymthatyear.Hehad bulked up sohewasactuallythesamesize—ifnot slightlybigger—than hisbrothersand hewasabletostickup for himself. Afterthat,they’d lefthim alone.

“You’reanonlychild,right?”heasked.

“Yeah. Itwasjust meandmy parents.”

“Aretheystill together?”

Shenodded.“Happilymarried fortwenty-nineyearsthis year.”

Hewanted toaskhermoreabouther thoughts onmarriageand family,but heldhistongue. He knewshedidn’thaveaboyfriend,and thatwasjustthewayhewanted tokeep it.

“Doyouthinkyou’ll remarry?”

Herquestion startled him. If she’d asked himthatthreemonthsago,hewould havetold her hell no,butwasthatwhat hestillwanted? “I’m notsure.”

“Whataboutkids?Would you wanttohave more?”

Maxlooked downatErin being pushed in thestroller.Shedeservedtohavea littlebrotheror sister—maybeevenmorethan one. He had alwayswanted tohavefour kids.“Maybe. If Imetthe rightgirl,”hereplied,watching Gig’s expression carefully.

Shebither lip and he had to fight the urge to kiss her. “Whatwould maketherightgirl?”sheasked quietly.

Hecametoa stop ata red light. Theperfectgirlwasstanding rightin frontof him. “Physicallyshe could haveanycolorhair or eyes. I find the personalityand thevaluesof a personaremuchmore important.”

Her head bobbed up and down in agreement,hereyes on thepassing traffic.“I don’tthinkaperson’sappearancecountsfora wholelot.”Shelooked athim. “Compatibilityisfar more important.”

“I knowwhatyoumean,”hesaid softly,staring ather intently. With thesun beating downon them,Maxcould seethetinysprinkling offrecklesonhernose. Gigi’scheeksflushed with color under his closescrutinyand shelooked away,clearing her throat.

“So,howmanykidswouldyouwanttohave?”heasked astheycrossed theroad together.

“A lot…four,maybe.”

“Why?”

“I wasanonlychild. SometimesIgotkindof lonelywhen I wasgrowing up. I wouldn’twant mykidstoexperiencethat.”

Christ,could thiswoman getany moreperfect?

“Whatabout you?”sheasked. Her eyeslingeredon hismouth for amomentbeforeshelooked away. Brushing somehairbehind her ear,sheadded,“You know,justfor argument’ssake.”

---