Читать книгу Postcards From…Verses Brides Babies And Billionaires - Rebecca Winters - Страница 35

THEY EXITED into a small, cobblestone courtyard. A single light illuminated the far corner. She tugged Max into the shadows and pressed herself against him, desperate to finish what they’d started.

He didn’t need to be asked twice. His hands cradled her head, his fingers delving into her hair. She heard the faint clatter of hairpins falling to the ground as he kissed her, his tongue sweeping into her mouth. Her hair fell over her shoulders, and he grabbed two fistfuls of it and used it to haul her head back and deepen their kiss.

He pressed closer and she could feel his hard-on throbbing against her stomach. Her whole body was shaking with need. She clutched at his shoulders, digging her fingers into the muscles of his back.

He released her head, one hand shifting to cover her breast, the other to cup her backside. She forgot to breathe as his thumb brushed over her nipple through her dress. She moaned, and he used his grip on her butt to hold her as he ground himself against her. Wet heat throbbed between her thighs, beating out a demanding tattoo.

“Maddy,” he whispered, his French accent very pronounced.

He nudged one strap then the other off her shoulders. She felt the coolness of the night air on her bare breasts as he pushed her bodice down. And then he was touching her, cupping her, shaping her, his thumb brushing over and over first one nipple then the other.

She gasped, so turned on she could barely stand. She pulled Max’s shirt from his jeans and fumbled for his belt. His hand swept under her skirt. She sucked hard on his bottom lip and slid his zipper down.

Her hand found the hot, hardened length of him just as his closed over the fullness of her butt cheek. He squeezed her once, then slid his hand lower, fingers delving between her legs. Her hand closed convulsively around his thick shaft as his fingers brushed the damp satin of her panties.

“So wet,” he whispered roughly.

Then suddenly she was against the wall. Her heart leaped with excitement as Max fisted his hand in the elastic of her panties and pulled. They gave easily and he hitched one of her knees over his hip before both hands found her bare backside. He lifted her and she guided his hardness to her entrance with a shaking, desperate hand even as she locked her ankles together around his waist.

She gasped as he plunged inside her to the hilt. It was almost painful he was so big, but as soon as he began to move, pleasure vibrated through her body in overwhelming waves.

“So good,” she murmured, throwing her head back. “So good.”

He tightened his grip and began to pump into her in earnest. The slick length of him sliding in and out of her, the granite hardness of his body straining toward hers, the demanding passion of his kisses—she couldn’t get enough of him. Then he lowered his head and sucked a nipple into his mouth. His tongue teased, taunted. She dug her fingers into his shoulders and offered him everything she had.

Tension spiraled tight inside her. Sensation rippled through her body. It was all so good. Any second now she would find what her body was chasing. Closing her eyes, she gave herself over to the madness.

SHE WAS INCREDIBLE. So tight and hot and wet. Each thrust into her body, each taste of her sweet nipples, each moan that eased from her throat pushed him nearer to the edge. She was everything he’d ever imagined and more. So soft, her skin so silken, the muscles beneath so sleek and strong.

He couldn’t get enough. She felt so good, so right. He wanted to stay inside her forever, but he also wanted to lose himself, to make her lose herself.

He switched his attention from her left breast to her right. Her nipple was already sitting up, begging for his attention. She was the sexiest woman in the world.

He pulled her nipple into his mouth, sucked on it hard. She started to pant. He soothed his tongue over her, then bit her gently. She gasped and writhed. She was close. He could feel her tightening around him. He stepped up the pace, plunging in and out of her, holding on, holding on, no matter how tight and wet she felt, no matter how badly he wanted to find his own climax.

She started to shudder. Her head fell back on her neck. He switched focus to her other breast, sucked hard on her nipple, laving it all the while with his tongue. Her whole body tensed, her spine arching, her hips pushing toward him. Then she was pulsating around him, her inner muscles throbbing.

He gave up the fight to hang on. She was too much. Too hot, too slick and needy and tight. He groaned as his climax roared through him. He nestled his face into her neck, inhaling the scent of her as pleasure washed through his body.

Maddy. So beautiful. So sexy. His at last.

He wanted it to last forever, but his thighs and arms were burning with the effort of supporting both their weights. He withdrew from her reluctantly. She unlocked her ankles and he lowered her to the ground. The moment he stepped away from her, the coldness hit him.

He couldn’t see her face clearly in the darkness. She pulled up the bodice of her dress. Then she ducked down and he realized she was collecting her underwear.

Right.

The sweat from the dance floor and their frantic coupling was turning to ice on his back and chest.

“It’s cold,” he said.

“Yes.” She wrapped her arms around her torso. He still couldn’t see her face.

“Better get inside.”

They turned toward the door. She led the way, dragging the heavy fire door open. The heat and noise of the nightclub hit them like a wall as they stepped inside. Maddy stopped in her tracks, looking lost and overwhelmed.

“Come on,” he said, taking her hand.

He pushed through the crowd, towing her behind him. It wasn’t until he was holding her coat for her in the cloakroom that he saw the marks on her back.

Red welts, abrasions from where he’d pushed her against the wall.

He swore under his breath as Maddy buttoned her coat to the collar and began to wind her new scarf around her neck.

He’d hurt her. He’d been so wild to get inside her, he hadn’t thought of anything else.

They were silent as they stepped into the street. He watched his breath mist in the cool night air. He didn’t know where to start.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

She hunched into her coat.

“Can we do this at home? Please?”

He eyed her for a beat. She turned away and started walking. He caught up with her in two strides. The streets were empty and silent as they made their way through the maze of Le Marais to his loft.

Their footsteps sounded loud on the wooden floor as they entered. He stopped in the living area. Maddy hovered nearby, not quite meeting his eye.

“Did I hurt you?” he asked.

“I’m fine.”

“At least let me look at your back.”

“I told you, I’m fine.”

“Then let me see it.”

She stared at him, on the verge of protest.

“If I hurt you, I want to know about it,” he said roughly.

“You didn’t hurt me, Max,” she said. But she shrugged out of her coat and offered him her back. “It’s nothing, see?”

He stared at the raised, red marks on her pale skin. In good light, he could see they were more irritation than abrasion. He lifted his gaze to the long, slender column of her neck, bowed before him. There were so many things he wanted to say.

“Maddy, what just happened—” He broke off as she pulled away from him.

“I can’t do this right now, Max. I’m sorry.”

Without looking at him, she strode for the bathroom. He stared at the door as she closed it between them. After a few long seconds, the shower came on.

He closed his eyes.

Great. She was washing him off her skin. Couldn’t wait to do so, in fact.

In all the years that he’d fantasized about having sex with Maddy, not once had he imagined what would happen afterward.

Not this, that was for sure.

MADDY SAT on the closed toilet lid, her head in her hands. Steam from the shower filled the room. She’d turned the water on the moment she entered, hoping the sound would convince Max she was taking what had happened between them in her stride.

She’d screwed up. Badly. She’d seen something she’d wanted, and she’d reached out for it like a greedy child. And now she had to face the consequences.

“Idiot, idiot, idiot,” she said under her breath.

She’d seen the questions in Max’s eyes. He wanted to know why she’d kissed him. Why she’d rubbed herself against him and pushed herself into his hands and led him outside.

He kissed you back. He wasn’t exactly resisting.

She groaned, pressing her fingertips against her closed eyelids until she saw stars.

Of course Max had kissed her back. She’d practically ravished him, climbing all over him, grinding herself against him. He would have had to pry her off with a crowbar and a bucket of water she’d been so turned on and desperate for him.

Her stomach was churning. She swallowed, the sound loud in the small space.

She couldn’t take back any of it—the kiss, the trip outside to the courtyard, those hot, hard, fast minutes when nothing else had mattered. Worse, even at the height of her regret and shame and remorse, she wasn’t sure she would, even if she could. Those few breathless moments with Max would stay with her forever. She’d never been so wild for a man before.

And yet Max was her friend. She loved him with all her heart for his generosity of spirit and his easy sense of humor and his strength and cleverness. She didn’t want to mess up what she had with him. She absolutely did not want to hurt him or make him angry or disappoint him. And in her experience, sex came hand in hand with all of the above.

So why had she risked everything by crossing the line with him?

The bathroom was so thick with steam her dress was damp and her hair heavy with moisture. She stood and used her hand to clean condensation from the mirror. The face staring back at her was tight with confusion and guilt.

She pulled off her dress, letting it drop to the floor. She stepped under the shower and thrust her head beneath it, lifting her face into the flow. For long seconds she let the water sluice over her. Then she reached for the soap and began to wash her body. Her breasts tightened as she smoothed the bar of soap across them and she remembered Max’s touch on her skin. She washed the sticky warmth of their mutual desire from between her thighs and she remembered his fingers gliding inside her. She bit her lip, torn between desire and regret.

She shut off the water and wrapped herself in her towel.

The apartment was dark and silent when she exited the bathroom. Max had gone to bed.

Her shoulders relaxed a notch. She made her way to her bed and found Max’s old T-shirt beneath her pillow. She tugged it on, then crawled beneath the covers and closed her eyes.

Her body was as stiff as a board, and her back had begun to sting.

The scent of Max rose from his T-shirt to envelop her, just as it had last night and the night before. She pressed her face into the pillow. Tomorrow she would buy a pair of pajamas and stop surrounding herself with Max.

God, tomorrow.

She tried to imagine what might happen, what Max might say in the cold light of day, what she could say to make everything right between them, but she knew there was no easy solution.

They’d crossed the line. More correctly, she’d crossed the line and dragged Max with her. And tomorrow, she was going to have to pay the piper.

She thought of all the lovers she’d lost over the years.

I don’t want to lose you, too, Max.

But it was possible she already had.

MAX WOKE EARLY. For a second he stared blankly at the wall beside his bed. Then memory returned in a hot, sticky rush.

Maddy against the wall, thrusting her hips toward his. Maddy’s breasts pouting in his hands. Maddy whispering her pleasure in his ear.

Then the aftermath: her injured back; the walk home; the way she’d disappeared into the shower.

He had a flash of the stunned, bewildered look she’d had on her face when they stepped back into the nightclub. At least he’d had ten years of knowing he desired her. What had happened last night seemed to have taken Maddy completely off guard.

And yet…

It had happened. She’d wanted him. She’d invited him to dance with her, and she’d teased him with every move she made. Then she’d kissed him. And led him outside.

She’d wanted him. That much was a reality, even if he’d taken over from there, slamming her against the wall and losing it a little as he pounded himself into her.

He ran his hands over and over the short bristle of his hair, staring at the ceiling. Then he rolled out of bed. He descended the stairs quietly, reluctant to wake Maddy before he was ready to face her.

Given what had happened, there was something he needed to take care of this morning. Something he should have done yesterday, perhaps even the day before.

After a quick shower, he dressed and slipped outside to make a few phone calls without disturbing her. He paused near her bed when he reentered the apartment, his cheeks tingling from the cold outside. Her back was to him, her hair tangled on the pillow.

He could still feel the silk of it sliding through his fingers last night.

He forced himself to keep walking. In the kitchen, he quietly prepared breakfast for one.

He was standing at the table reading the newspaper when he heard her stir. He looked over as she sat up, pushing her hair off her face. She looked flushed and soft. Very sexy and kissable. He quickly returned his attention to the newspaper.

He flicked the page over and concentrated on a story about student protests at the Sorbonne and didn’t allow himself to look up again until he heard the scuff of her footsteps. She stopped a few feet away and eyed him uncertainly.

Her face was pale, tense. They stared at each other for a long, drawn-out beat. Then Maddy made an inarticulate sound and crossed the distance between them. He froze as her arms slid around him and her body pressed against his. She held him tightly, her cheek resting on his chest. After a fraction of a second’s hesitation he returned her embrace.

“I’m so sorry,” she said. “I should never have kissed you like that last night.”

Her words were muffled, she was holding him so tightly.

“I don’t even know why it happened. You mean too much for me to screw up our relationship with sex. We’ve been friends for so long, and I value you so much. You’re one of the few people I can rely on the in the world and I don’t want it to change things between us.”

He could hear the tears in her voice. Her body was trembling with emotion. He hated seeing her so upset.

“It’s okay, Maddy.” He lifted a hand to smooth her hair.

She lifted her face to look at him. Her eyes were shiny with unshed tears.

“I don’t want to lose you, Max.”

“You haven’t. It was one night.”

“I don’t even know why it happened,” she said again.

He squeezed the nape of her neck, then eased out of her embrace.

“You’re freaking out over your career, under pressure. And I’ve got some shit going on, too. We were just letting off steam,” he said.

It was the rational, sensible take on what had happened. A version of events that gave them both a get-out-of-jail-free card.

She studied his face, her brow furrowed. Whatever she saw there seemed to reassure her, because her frown slowly faded.

“Thank you,” she said. The tears were back then, and she blinked rapidly.

“We were both there, Maddy. Last time I looked, it still took two to do what we did,” he said. “Stop blaming yourself.”

“When you’ve ruined as many relationships as I have, it’s hard not to. I mean, I’m kind of the common factor.”

She offered him a self-aware half smile.

He needed something to do with his hands, something to distract him from how vulnerable and sexy and appealing she looked, standing there wearing his T-shirt, apologizing for having had sex with him last night.

“You want a coffee?”

“No, thanks.”

She sat at the table while he remained standing. He poured himself a coffee and added milk. She reached for the sugar bowl and began fiddling with it, twisting it around and around on the table. When she spoke, he saw there was color in her cheeks.

“There’s something else I wanted you to know, too,” she said in a rush. “I’m on the pill. And I always use condoms, so you don’t need to worry about anything. Just in case you were worried, I mean.”

He stared at her. Protection had been about the furthest thing from his mind last night. Score another point for Team Stupid.

“Same goes,” he said, his voice coming out a little gruff. “I’m always careful.”

She nodded, twisting the sugar bowl around a few more times. “Good. That’s that settled. Now we never have to talk about it again.” She smiled to show she was joking, then stood. “I’d better get dressed, I guess.”

He watched her walk away, noting the straight column of her spine, the elegant arch of her neck, the grace of her movements.

The bathroom door closed between them and he let out the breath he’d been holding. Then he put down his coffee cup, braced his hands on the table in front of him and let his head drop.

He swore under his breath in French and English. For good measure, he threw in a couple of Spanish curses he’d picked up over the years.

He was an idiot, ten times over. All the bullshit he’d fed himself about only being physically attracted to Maddy. All the justifications for his need for her, his desire to protect her and make her happy and ease her pain.

He loved her. Had probably never stopped loving her.

And she only saw him as a friend. Same old, same old.

Shit.

IT’S GOING TO BE ALL RIGHT.

Her eyes felt gritty, and her head ached, but it was going to be all right. Max had let her off the hook. Or maybe he’d let them both off the hook. Whatever. They’d survived the morning after, their friendship intact.

She wasn’t stupid—she knew it would be weird between them for a day or two. But they’d get over it. If it killed her, they’d get over it. She’d made a stupid, impulsive, indulgent mistake, and she was determined to put things back the way they should be.

She brushed her hair and dressed in the slim-fit jeans and grass-green turtleneck sweater she’d bought the previous day. She brushed her teeth, took one last look at her pale reflection, then reached for the door.

“Max, you’ve officially ruined me. I can’t stop thinking about bread,” she said.

She stopped in her tracks. Max had a visitor. She was tall and slim with wavy shoulder-length auburn hair and very fair skin, and she was standing in the kitchen having coffee with Max. Maddy guessed she was about twenty-two, maybe a little younger. Her gaze dropped to the other woman’s feet, noting the distinctive, giveaway turnout of her toes.

A dancer. Maddy’s stomach dipped. She could think of only one reason why another dancer would be standing in Max’s kitchen.

“Maddy, come and meet Yvette. She’s a friend of Gabriella’s. She’s agreed to model for me,” Max said.

For a moment she couldn’t breathe. Max had replaced her. And not in the last ten minutes, either—he wouldn’t have been able to conjure another dancer out of thin air just like that. While she’d been fretting and agonizing over what last night meant to their friendship, Max had been quietly, coolly working to replace her.

The other woman was wide-eyed as she stared at Maddy.

“Ms. Green, I am very excited to be meeting you. I could not believe it when Max said you were staying with him. I saw you dance in Berlin two years ago. Your Juliet was so wonderful…I’m sorry, I do not have the words,” Yvette said in heavily accented English.

“Thank you. That’s very kind,” Maddy said. She even managed a smile.

“Not kind at all. Simply the truth,” Yvette said.

Maddy could feel Max watching her.

“This way you’ll have more time to do your strength training and work on your recovery,” he said.

Yvette looked concerned, her gaze darting between the two of them.

“You have an injury, Ms. Green? Not a serious one, I am hoping?” she asked.

“Nothing to worry about,” Maddy said. She wasn’t about to discuss her knee with the other woman. She already felt exposed enough as it was.

“That is a relief. The world of ballet cannot afford to lose you yet,” Yvette said earnestly.

Maddy smiled again, even though her face felt tense.

Max turned to Yvette. “The only thing we have left to discuss is your start date,” he said.

Maddy crossed to her bed, sitting on the edge to pull on her socks and boots. Her hands were shaking. She took a deep breath to steady herself.

“I am not working, so it is up to you,” Yvette said.

“Well, the sooner the better for me.”

Maddy grit her teeth. She wanted to pick up her boot and throw it across the room at him.

“I could come tomorrow. Or I have my dance bag in the car right now if you want to start this morning…?” Yvette offered.

“Yeah? That’d be great. Means I won’t be off my schedule,” Max said.

Maddy allowed herself one glance toward the kitchen. Yvette was leaning against the table, hands braced behind her, long legs stretched out in front of her. Unable to help herself, Maddy eyed the other woman’s chest. She was a good cup size larger than Maddy. A lot younger, too. And she had the kind of legs men dreamed of getting tangled in.

Because she was a glutton for punishment, Maddy switched her attention to Max.

He had his hip cocked against the kitchen counter, one hand tucked into the front pocket of his jeans. His jaw was shadowed with stubble and his shoulders looked ridiculously wide in a black fine-knit sweater. There were no prizes for guessing why Yvette was so keen to be accommodating. Max was sex personified standing there in his bare feet and faded jeans.

“I shall go get my things from my car,” Yvette said brightly.

She headed for the door. She was very tall, Maddy decided as she watched the other woman walk away. Too tall for classical ballet. Maddy felt a small dart of satisfaction. On one front, at least, she had the other woman beat.

Can you hear yourself? Yvette is not your competition. She will never be the competition because Max is your friend—and that’s all he is.

Still, jealousy burned in her belly, hot and fierce. She was supposed to be the one modeling for Max, not some redheaded goddess. Even though continuing to do so would have been strange and awkward and probably very, very unwise after what had happened last night, Maddy hated the thought that he would now be spending hours staring at Yvette’s no doubt nubile body.

She stared blindly at her feet, her whole body knotted with tension.

She was officially nuts. One minute she was almost crying with relief that she and Max had managed to recover from last night’s transgression, the next she was seething with resentment over another woman.

“Maddy.”

She looked up to find Max standing in front of her, his gray eyes watchful.

“I was going to tell you when you got out of the shower, but Yvette arrived earlier than I expected,” he said.

“Sure,” she said. She even managed a casual shrug. “I understand.”

“I know how important your career is to you. The last thing I want is to hold you back by using up all your spare time,” he said.

The clatter of Yvette reentering the apartment claimed his attention.

“You can change in the bathroom. There’s a robe you can use, if you’d like,” he offered, moving away.

Maddy’s hands clenched around the bed frame. Now he was offering Yvette his robe—the same robe Maddy had been wearing only yesterday.

She had a sudden vision of how the next few hours would play out—Max and Yvette locked in intense artistic communion as he sketched her naked body, with Maddy lurking on the fringes of the apartment like a female Quasimodo minus a bell tower.

She shot to her feet.

“I’m going out,” she said.

Both Yvette and Max looked a little nonplussed by her sudden announcement.

“I need pajamas,” she explained. She started winding her scarf around her neck.

“Okay. Don’t forget to take the spare key. I might not be around later,” Max said.

She nodded, but he was already turning away to organize his supplies. Probably eager to get to the part where he got to stare at Yvette’s naked body for hours on end.

She knew she was being unfair, even irrational, but right at this minute her rational self seemed to have checked out of Hotel Maddy.

She had to get out of here before she did or said something stupid—such as going over and kissing Max right in front of the other woman, so Yvette knew to keep her distance.

Nuts. Absolutely crackers.

She grabbed her coat and purse and strode for the door.

“It was lovely meeting you, Ms. Green. An honor,” Yvette called after her.

Maddy glanced over her shoulder. Yvette was holding Max’s robe, the deep red silk flowing from her hands, her beautiful face smiling and hopeful.

“You, too,” Maddy said, even though it nearly killed her. After all, it wasn’t Yvette’s fault she was beautiful and limber and sexy. Well, mostly.

Maddy stood in the street and stuffed her hands deep into her pockets, tucking her chin into the folds of her scarf. She had a powerful urge to kick something. Preferably herself.

What was she doing? Sleeping with Max, getting jealous over other women, obsessing over him. He. Was. Her. Friend. When was her thick subconscious going to get the message?

She started up the street, but she hadn’t walked more than ten paces before Max called out her name.

Her stomach did an absurd little flip. She swiveled on her heel, her gaze flying to where he stood on the doorstep, the cordless phone in hand.

“My sister wants to know if we’d like to come to dinner tonight,” he said.

Maddy stared at him for a long beat, but he didn’t say anything else.

“That would be nice,” she said.

“Okay. Have fun.” He threw her a casual wave before ducking back into the apartment. Maddy stared at the closed door for a long beat.

What had she expected him to say? Maddy, I’m sorry. The only reason I replaced you is because I can’t bear looking at you and not touching you, especially after last night? You’re so sexy, I don’t know why I never noticed before, you’re driving me crazy.

She made a disgusted sound at her own idiocy. The last thing she wanted was Max making any such declaration because that would mean he cared for her, that he wanted things from her that she didn’t have to give. It would be a disaster in the making, the beginning of the end.

Confused, angry, determined, Maddy walked away.

MAX SHIFTED the wine bottle from one hand to the other and wiped his damp palm on the thigh of his jeans. He’d like to blame his clammy hands on condensation on the bottle, but the truth was he was nervous about the night ahead.

He could hear Maddy climbing the stairs to his sister’s apartment behind him, the heels of her boots striking the marble steps sharply.

Despite the fact that he and Maddy had lived together for nearly two years, she’d never met his sister. He’d gone to great pains to ensure that was the case—Charlotte was nothing if not perceptive. The last thing he’d wanted or needed was her guessing how he felt about his housemate.

Some things never changed, it seemed.

“I forgot to ask, how did things go with Yvette today?” Maddy asked as she drew alongside him on the landing.

He knocked on his sister’s door.

“It was good. Fine. She was a little nervous, but we’ll get there.”

She wasn’t Maddy. She didn’t have Maddy’s grace or style. But he also didn’t feel the stir of arousal every time he looked at her. Yvette was an attractive woman—but she was not the woman he wanted. Consequently, the morning had gone blessedly smoothly. And there had definitely been no need for cold showers afterward.

“Good. I’m glad it worked out.”

Maddy smoothed her scarf and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. She looked nervous, he realized.

“You know, I’ve always wanted to meet your sister,” she said. “Does she look much like you?”

“She has dark hair. But she’s a lot prettier.”

“I doubt that,” she said. Then she bit her lip and looked away.

The door swung open and warm air rich with savory cooking smells swept out to greet them.

“Sorry. I was just taking the soufflés out of the oven. Come in,” Charlotte said.

They followed her inside and Charlotte gave Maddy a brief but thorough head to toe as they shrugged out of their coats.

“Charlotte,” she said, thrusting out a hand. “Max says you’re a dancer, Maddy. From Australia.”

“That’s right,” Maddy said, shaking hands. “Max and I used to live with each other back in the day.”

His sister’s gaze swiveled around to impale him.

“Max didn’t mention that,” Charlotte said.

Now Maddy was watching him.

“Didn’t you say you just took the soufflés out of the oven?” he asked.

“Merde!” Charlotte said. She took off down the hallway, her high heels skidding on the floorboards.

Max gestured for Maddy to follow his sister into the kitchen.

Half-chopped vegetables were lined up on the kitchen table on a large cutting board, while pots steamed away on the stovetop. Charlotte stood at the counter, frowning at a tray holding three ceramic ramekins.

“The soufflés sank a little,” she said critically. “I’m really not happy with this new oven.”

He inspected the ramekins. “I’m sure they’ll taste exactly the same,” he said. His sister prided herself on her cooking and he knew she would give herself a hard time for any small failure.

Charlotte rolled her eyes.

“No, they won’t. Being light and fluffy is the whole point of a soufflé. Don’t you think, Maddy?”

Charlotte turned to her guest, her interested gaze once again scanning Maddy from head to toe. The first opportunity he got, he was going to tell his sister to cut it out. Maddy was not his girlfriend, and she wasn’t there to be cross-examined by his nearest and dearest. Far from it.

“I suppose. Although, to be honest, I’m the last person you should ask about food. As Max will tell you, I can’t cook worth a damn,” Maddy said.

“Really? Max isn’t exactly great, either. Someone will have to learn to cook,” Charlotte said meaningfully.

Maddy looked confused for a beat, then her gaze darted to him questioningly.

“Maddy is only staying with me for a week or two,” he said.

“Uh-huh.” Charlotte looked as though she didn’t believe him.

“She has her career to get back to as prima ballerina with the Sydney Dance Company,” he clarified.

“Oh.” This time Charlotte looked convinced, if disappointed. He could almost see her thoughts and suppositions realigning themselves. God knew what she was going to ask next. He shot Maddy an apologetic look and she smiled faintly.

“So, how are you finding Max’s new apartment, Maddy?”

“Um, good. I mean, I didn’t see his old one, so I can’t compare, obviously. But it’s very nice. Lots of space,” Maddy said.

“I wouldn’t know,” Charlotte said, nudging Max in the ribs with her elbow. “My brother hasn’t invited me yet. How long has it been now, Max?”

“A few weeks,” he said repressively.

Charlotte raised an eyebrow and moved to the cutting board.

“Hmmm. Did you look at those course brochures I gave you the other night?” she asked as she started slicing an onion.

Max frowned for a moment, trying to work out what she was referring to. Then he remembered her thrusting them into his hands as he was on his way out the door with the camp bed. Brochures for degrees in psychology, teaching and occupational therapy, if he remembered correctly. He’d left them all behind in the taxi.

“Haven’t had a chance,” he said.

Charlotte had been trying to push him into a new career for a while now. He would have to tell her about his artistic ambitions soon, even if only to get her off his back.

“Maybe you can convince him to start thinking about the future, Maddy. I know he deserves a break after all those years of caring for Père, but he can’t float around forever, wasting his life.”

He felt Maddy bristle beside him and had a sudden premonition that things were about to go horribly wrong.

“I’d hardly call Max’s art floating around or wasting his life,” Maddy said stiffly. “He’s incredibly talented and the art world is going to fall on its ass in surprise when he has his first show.”

Charlotte’s knife froze above an onion.

“Max’s art? Sorry?”

Charlotte’s gaze shifted between him and Maddy then back again.

Damn. He should have seen this coming the moment his sister issued her invitation. Maddy had been modeling for him, after all. It was only natural that she’d mention it.

“I’m working on some pieces. Sculpture,” he explained. “Larger scale, like that figure I did last year.”

“And you’re going to have a show?” Charlotte asked. The knife still hovered, the point wavering a little in her hand.

“Yes. Hopefully. If I can get some interest,” he said.

“I see.” Charlotte sent the knife down into the onion with a thunk.

She was hurt. She had every right to be. They were close, she shared all aspects of her life with him. And he’d deliberately shut her out of his because he’d been cautious about openly acknowledging his ambitions.

“I was going to tell you. I just wanted to have more to show you before I did,” he said.

Maddy was looking distinctly uncomfortable. “I’m really sorry,” she said. “I didn’t realize…”

“It’s not your fault,” Charlotte said, her voice brittle.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I just…I guess I wasn’t sure if I could pull it off.”

It was the truth, but he could see honesty wasn’t going to get him anywhere with Charlotte tonight.

She crossed to the stove and began shoveling chopped vegetables into a pot.

“I understand,” she said coolly.

But she didn’t, and he knew he had some heavy spadework ahead to soothe her ruffled feathers.

Dinner was tense. Charlotte apologized too many times for the soufflés, then made stiff, overly polite conversation with Maddy throughout the main course.

She resented Maddy for knowing more about his life than she did, he guessed. The age-old instinct to shoot the messenger. He was doing his best to ease the tension when a high-pitched scream echoed through the apartment.

“Eloise,” Charlotte said, standing abruptly. “She’s been having nightmares lately.”

She’d barely taken two steps before Eloise hurtled into the room, her mouth open in another earsplitting scream. Her dark hair, cut in a shorter version of Charlotte’s bob, was tangled and matted around her sweaty, tear-streaked face. Her nightgown was damp around her middle, clinging to her small frame. He guessed she’d wet the bed.

“It’s okay, sweetie. Mama is here,” Charlotte soothed in French, getting down on her knees to scoop Eloise into her arms.

Eloise was so distressed she fought against her mother’s embrace, her body bowing backward, her arms and legs thrashing around.

His three-year-old niece had been diagnosed with autism eighteen months ago, and Charlotte fought a constant battle to connect with her youngest child. Early intervention, expensive private therapies and the best nutrition money could buy were all strategies she and Richard were employing in an attempt to improve Eloise’s condition, but they could only achieve so much.

“Let her go, Charlotte,” he urged his sister quietly. It was clear Eloise could not accept comfort right now, and she would only hurt herself and Charlotte in her distress.

Charlotte reluctantly released her grip and Eloise pushed herself away so violently she staggered. Off balance, she fell onto her back and began to pound the carpet with her heels and fists, screaming all the while at a heartbreaking, stomach-clenching pitch.

He’d seen Eloise like this before, a victim to the overwhelming fear and anxiety that dogged her world, but it never failed to make him feel powerless and pointless.

“Do you have anything you can give her? Something to help calm her down?” he asked.

“She won’t keep it down in this condition,” Charlotte said wearily.

He put his hand on her shoulder. Watching a loved one in pain was tough enough, but knowing you couldn’t even convey your sympathy, love and comfort to them made the burden doubly heavy.

He caught sight of movement out of the corners of his eyes and turned to see that Maddy was quietly clearing the table.

He hadn’t told her about Eloise. He’d known the children would be in bed by the time they arrived for dinner, and his sister could be intensely private and prickly about discussing her daughter’s condition. More than anything, she hated for Eloise to be an object of pity.

“Don’t bother with that,” Charlotte said.

Maddy hesitated, then put the plates down.

“Eloise is autistic,” he explained quietly.

Maddy nodded. “Is she…Is there anything I can do?” she asked.

“No. She’ll have to wear herself out. Fortunately, her body can’t sustain such a high level of anxiety for long,” he said.

As he spoke, Eloise’s screaming dropped in pitch and became a low, despairing moan. She started to rock from side to side, her arms wrapped around her torso.

Charlotte pressed a hand to her mouth and blinked furiously.

“I hate it when she’s like this. Out of everything it’s the thing I hate the most,” she said, her voice low and vehement.

Max pulled his house keys from his pocket and handed them to Maddy.

“Why don’t you go on home?” he suggested. “I’ll call you a taxi.”

“No! There must be something I can do to help,” she said.

“If there was, I would be doing it,” Charlotte snapped.

Max made eye contact with Maddy. She nodded her understanding of his silent message.

“Okay. I’ll go, if that’s what you think is best,” she said quietly. She took the keys from him, but hesitated, clearly uncertain about whether she should thank her hostess before leaving.

Charlotte didn’t lift her gaze from Eloise’s rocking form and Maddy turned away. He followed her to the door and helped her on with her coat.

“I’m sorry,” he said when she faced him. “Charlotte’s under a lot of pressure.”

Maddy held up a hand. “Don’t. I’m fine. I completely understand.”

In the other room, Eloise started screaming again.

“Go,” she said, urging him back. “I’ll see you at the apartment.”

She squeezed his arm, then she was heading down the stairs, her footsteps echoing hollowly in the stairwell.

Charlotte was holding Eloise in her lap when he returned to the living room.

“I suppose we shocked Little Miss Prima Donna. Not quite what she’s used to.”

“Charlotte.”

“Don’t think I don’t know what she was thinking. That I’m a terrible mother or I can’t cope or—” Charlotte’s voice broke and she tightened her grip on her daughter.

“Will she take some hot milk now?” he asked.

He wasn’t about to defend Maddy to his sister. They both knew that Charlotte wasn’t angry with Maddy. It was simply much harder to rail at life in quite the same way.

“Maybe. We can try.”

By the time he’d returned with warm milk, Eloise had quietened. Half an hour later, Charlotte carried her to her room to tuck her into bed. Eloise was limp with exhaustion by then, her eyes puffy from crying.

Max cleaned up the kitchen while Charlotte sat by Eloise’s bedside, waiting for her to fall asleep. He was wiping down the counters when Charlotte spoke from the doorway.

“Do you still love her?”

He stilled.

“You think I didn’t notice, all those years ago? The way you talked about her, then carefully tried to make it sound as though you weren’t, in case I noticed? You think I didn’t understand that you were trying to stop me from meeting her?” Charlotte said.

“Stop it, Charlotte. Maddy is not the one you’re mad at, and you know it,” he said.

His words came out more firmly than he’d intended and Charlotte shut her jaw with a click and stared at him as though he’d slapped her. He crossed the room to draw her into his arms. Even though she remained stiff and angry, he kissed her forehead.

“I’m sorry for not telling you about my plans,” he said quietly, trying to find the right words. “It wasn’t because I don’t care about what you think. I guess I just wasn’t sure if I was doing the right thing.”

Some of the fight went out of her.

“You know I love your bronzes. How could you think I would be anything but supportive?”

He shrugged. “It’s not exactly a reliable career choice.”

“So? I want you to be happy. That’s all I’ve ever wanted for you.”

He kissed her forehead again.

“Can I come around to your apartment now that the big secret is out?”

“Of course. I wasn’t deliberately keeping you away, Charlotte,” he said.

She pulled away from his embrace and gave him a knowing, sisterly look.

He shrugged. “Okay, maybe I was, a little.”

“You didn’t have any trouble telling Maddy, showing Maddy.”

“She turned up on my doorstep. It was kind of hard to avoid it.”

“That’s not why you told her. You love her.”

This time he didn’t bother to deny it.

“She’s very beautiful,” Charlotte said.

He just raised an eyebrow. “We’re friends. Nothing more.”

“Prove it to me. Go out with one my friends. Luisa has been waiting to meet you for months.”

“No.” The answer was on his lips before he could even think about it.

There was only one woman he wanted. More fool him.

Charlotte shook her head. “I hope you know what you’re doing, Max.”

He already knew that he didn’t. He’d let Maddy back into his life in every conceivable way—into his home, his art, his bed, his heart. And, as always, she had no idea how profound an impact she’d had on him.

For a brief moment he regretted finding her on his doorstep four nights ago. Then he remembered the sweet, searing heat of being inside her. The soft, needy sounds of her desire. The silk of her hair in his hands.

It made him ten different kinds of idiot, but he wouldn’t trade that experience for anything in the world.

Which only proved he really was a glutton for punishment.