Page 28 of Second to None
“Brandy sounds good on a night like this,” Max said, standing to lean on the back of his chair. He enjoyed the way her sleeves fluttered around her slender, graceful arms as she walked to the sideboard and pulled out a brandy snifter and a liqueur glass along with the matching bottles. She filled the two glasses and handed him the snifter.
He rested his hand lightly on the small of her back as they walked side by side to the fireplace. He heard her draw in a sharp breath, but she stayed close enough for him to touch. The feel of her moving under the silky blouse made him want to slip his hand under the fabric to lay his palm against her warm, bare skin.
He guided her to the chair she’d used before, but he leaned against the mantel so he could watch the firelight play over her face and hair.
“Tell me more about you and dogs,” she said, startling him. But it was better than having the ghost of Jake hovering over them.
He rolled his shoulders as he considered how to edit the sordid story. “Like any other kid, I wanted a puppy, but my family moved often because of my father’s job, so it wasn’t really practical to have one. Instead of just saying no, my parents got creative. They told me supposedly true stories about dogs who attacked their owners—generally, small boys—until I decided maybe a dog wasn’t such a great idea after all.”
Her face softened, probably with pity. “That’s a terrible thing to do to a child,” she said. “Make him afraid of animals so you won’t have to look like a bad guy by saying no.” Then she looked stricken. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t criticize your parents.”
“Feel free. They weren’t models of parental rectitude.” He swirled his brandy in the snifter. “Even though now I understand that dogs are not unpredictably vicious beasts, it’s hard to overcome that instilled instinct to avoid them.”
“So you want the kids at the center to have the dog you never did.”
“That’s more sentimental than my actual thought process, but I’ll take the credit.”
She smiled and sipped her port while she stared into the fire. Then she lifted her gaze to him again. “Maybe you could spend a little time with Windy. Aunt Ruthie trained her well, so she won’t jump or nip or bark and startle you.”
“I don’t encounter many dogs in my job, so it’s not a problem I have to deal with.” But if Emily liked dogs so much, maybe he needed to work on it.
“I hate to think of you missing out on the joy and comfort a dog can bring into your life.”
He could tell that she really did feel sorry for his lack of a pet. It made him want her even more.
He set his brandy on the mantel and took two steps to reach her chair. Removing the glass from her hand and putting it on the table, he drew her to her feet. Her hair slid over his skin like the smoothest satin as he threaded the fingers of one hand into the shining fall of it. Tilting her head up to him, he dropped his gaze to the delicious curves of her mouth before he bent his head to murmur, “If you want me to stop, say so.”
*
His breath whispered over her lips, fragrant with the brandy he’d just drunk. She didnotwant him to stop, so she did what she had been longing to do all evening ... slid her hands over the expensive softness of his sweater where it covered the hard swell of his shoulder muscles and edged herself closer to him. His lips touched hers, and she sighed at the feel of that full lower lip brushing hers. He demanded no more than that questing brush for a few seconds. Then he wrapped one arm around her waist and drew her in so her breasts were pressed against the solid plane of his chest while her head was cradled in his other hand.
Every place their bodies touched sizzled with pleasure. The solid maleness of him made her feel exquisitely soft and female in a way she’d forgotten. She melted into him, wanting to touch in more places, while his lips grew more insistent on hers. She skimmed her hand up the back of his neck so she could weave her fingers into the gleaming strands of his hair, keeping him her captive or offering herself as his. Or both.
A low rumble came from his throat, and he traced the seam of her mouth with his tongue, just an exploration, not an invasion. Before she could open to him, he glided down to her jawline, kissing along it until he reached the sensitive spot just behind her earlobe. When he flicked it with his tongue, she gasped and arched into him without conscious thought while desire rocketed through her in a wave of sensation.
His arm locked around her like a steel bar as he dragged his mouth down her neck, tasting her skin as he went.
“Yes, Max,” she whispered. “There.”
He followed the line of her collarbone until the fabric of her blouse blocked his progress. She heard him huff in frustration, a feeling she shared. When he lifted his head, his gaze scorched her. “Have dinner with me tomorrow,” he said, his voice a delicious rasp. “At my place.”
She tried to think what day tomorrow was. Sunday. She could do dinner then. Except she would need a babysitter.
“If I can find someone to stay with Izzy.”
He smiled in a way that sent a ripple of excitement down her spine. “If you can’t, I can.”
Before she could say anything more, he lowered his mouth to hers and sent tendrils of pure flame twisting through her. She whimpered and kneaded his shoulders as she tried to press as much of her body against his as was humanly possible.
He obliged by curling one arm around her hips so he could bring her pelvis against him while the other arm wrapped her shoulders in a grip that crushed her into his chest. She could feel his erection and reveled in the knowledge that he was as aroused as she was.
The sound of human and canine footsteps on the stairs split them apart. Max went back to the mantel, while Emily seized her port and gulped down the entire glass in one swallow. The liquor only threw more fuel on the bonfire raging inside her. She wanted to climb out a window and roll in the snow. She threw a quick glance at Max. He was watching her with an intensity that made her feel as though the snow would evaporate in a sizzle the moment it touched her skin.
“I think Windy needs to go outside,” Izzy said as she and the dog walked into the room.
“Go ahead and let her out back,” Emily said, hoping she didn’t look as disheveled as she felt.
Max watched the little girl and the dog head toward the kitchen. When he turned back to her, the desire in his eyes was banked down to a mere flicker. “I’ll pick you up at six tomorrow. Let me know if you need help with child care.”
She hesitated. She’d accepted his invitation in the heat of the moment, and she’d known what she was agreeing to. Now that sanity had time to take hold, she worried again about the tangled threads of her job, Max’s patronage, and a personal relationship with him.
“Don’t change your mind.” He held out his hand in a gesture somewhere between a command and a plea. “Come to dinner. Please.”
She looked at his long, hard body, covered in clothing that cost more than her monthly salary, the golden firelight outlining every perfect fold, every drape over swells of muscle, every masculine angle of bone and ligament. And she wanted to feel it all against her and then rip off the clothes to feel only skin.
She nodded. “Six o’clock.”
And knew she’d leaped off the cliff.
