Читать книгу Red-Hot Santa - Tori Carrington, Tori Carrington - Страница 9

MAXINE PRIDED HERSELF on holding her own with the guys when it came to drinking. So she was really surprised that by the time the bar closed, she was feeling a little woozy. She couldn’t remember having all that much to drink, but the way she was feeling told her that maybe she’d had one too many.

The girls had left a little earlier, smiling at her in a way that seemed to suggest they knew what was going to happen. Of course, that put them ahead of the game, because she wasn’t all too sure what to expect, herself.

She caught sight of Jax moving in her direction and straightened in her chair. This so wasn’t how she’d planned to feel during their first stretch of time alone together.

He, on the other hand, looked as actively hot as he had earlier in the evening. It was more than his thick shock of dark blond hair that always appeared in need of a comb, and his warm blue eyes that always made her think of summer skies and how much she craved the heat. He looked as if he was ready for anything and everything … especially a long, thorough roll in the hay.

Of course, his brief role playing Santa to all the girls in the place, including her and her friends, had left her feeling more than a little hot and bothered. She’d been so tongue-tied, she hadn’t been able to tell him what she really wanted.

“You ready?” he asked.

It took her a moment to realize he was talking about the ride he was giving her to her aunt’s house. Not her secret Santa wish. Damn.

“Oh. Yes.” She smiled.

As he got their coats from behind the bar, she was aware of the bar owner’s attention on them.

“Good night,” she called.

“Good night, Maxi. Nice to see you again. Will you be back here tomorrow night?”

She waved noncommittally and led the way out.

The early morning air was still and cold. She couldn’t remember a time she’d experienced such quiet. Perhaps because it contrasted so greatly with the riotous emotions roiling inside of her.

Her brief contact with Jax earlier, when she’d realized he wanted her—at least physically—left her breathless … and more than a little scared.

It was one thing to mentally decide on a course of action; quite another, indeed, to actually embark on it.

She started toward where his truck was parked in the lot but found he wasn’t behind her.

“I need to see to Cleo first,” he said.

She stopped dead in her tracks. Cleo?

He grinned at her. “I rent the place above the bar.”

“I don’t understand. This is where you live?”

“Most nights. When I have a day off, I go out to Gram’s, but this …” He gestured toward the wooden stairs leading up to a second story door. “This is my home away from home.”

She followed him up. “And Cleo?”

“You’re going to love her.”

Max winced. She was sure whoever Cleo was, she was not going to love her. She’d hated everyone Jax had dated before. What would make this one any different? Especially since she appeared to live with him.

Double damn.

“Why did you agree to take me home if you weren’t going that way?” she asked, trying to figure out what her options were. Truly, she’d preferred not to be stuck in a truck with him for a half hour if his heart already belonged to someone else.

“I haven’t seen you in two years. Did you really expect me to say no?” He took keys out of his pocket and unlocked the door. “Besides, it’s no big deal. I’ll just crash at Gram’s tonight.”

A soft breeze brought the tang of his aftershave to her nose. She took a deep breath; she’d always loved the way he smelled.

He held out a hand to stay her. “You may want to step back for a minute while Cleo greets me.”

Great. She was going to have to watch another woman throw herself into his arms.

He squared his stance and then opened the door. Max watched a female throw herself into his arms, all right. Or, rather, climb up into them.

She laughed as a black feline, more kitten than cat, climbed Jax like a tree, not stopping until she was safe in his arms and nudging her chin against his.

“Cleo,” Jax said, “I want you to meet Max. Max …” He turned and smiled at her even as he scratched the cat behind the ears. “This is Cleo.”

Max leaned forward, wondering if her relief was obvious, but not really caring. She was just happy Cleo wasn’t a six foot blonde with model good looks she’d have to add to the top of her Most Hated list.

“Hey, Cleo,” she said softly, holding her hand palm down so the cat could take a whiff of her. Then just as sweet as you please, Cleo rubbed up against the digits, her rumbling purr audible. Max ran her hand along her soft, warm fur.

“I would never have figured you for a cat person.”

“I’m not.”

Jax walked inside the apartment and Max followed. He switched on a light and closed the door behind them before placing the cat on the back of a chair.

“Long story short, Cleo is Gram’s. She’s just visiting while Gram takes a vacation.”

“Vacation?”

He grimaced. “Yeah. She went on a cruise and won’t be back until next week.” He walked toward the back and switched on another light to what looked like the kitchen.

“I’m surprised she didn’t leave her in the barn.”

“Yeah, well, Cleo isn’t a barn cat, exactly …” He adjusted what appeared to be a thermostat on the wall. “The heat shouldn’t take but a minute.”

“I’m fine. I’ve been through worse.”

He looked at her. “Yeah. We both have, I think. Easy to forget that sometimes.”

He disappeared into the other room. Max stared at Cleo who stared back, at least until she heard the sound of food hitting a bowl. Then she was off like a shot, skidding to a stop on the kitchen tile.

Max unzipped her leather jacket and looked around the place. Hell, it was neater than hers. And while the black, contemporary furnishings may have come with the place, the small touches did not. There were books in the case, a plant on the floor and photos in frames on the shelves. She stepped nearer, easily recognizing Jax’s grandmother and brother Jason in the pictures. And then she spied one of herself …

Her heart skipped a beat as she picked up the simple four-by-six-inch frame of a photo shot taken about five years ago while they were serving together. They were both in desert fatigues and Jax had draped his arm casually over her shoulders.

There was nothing casual, however, about the way she smiled at him.

She squinted at her expression. How was it possible he never knew?

Then it occurred to her he had known. He just hadn’t returned her feelings.

“Long time ago, huh?” he asked, coming to stand beside her.

“Huh?” She awkwardly put the frame back down. “Um, yeah. A different lifetime, it seems.”

He ran his hand over his hair. “Yeah.”

She stared into his face, wondering if she was just being stupid or if she’d been made that way. She started to ask if he was ready, when she noticed he’d taken off his coat, most likely leaving it in the kitchen.

“Maxi?”

“Huh?”

Jax grinned at her. “That’s what Chuck called you back at the bar.”

“Oh. Yeah.” Was it her, or was it suddenly warmer in here?

“I’m surprised it didn’t rate at least one of your famous sneers. It would have in the past.”

She laughed, remembering all the names she’d been called in elementary school, Maxi Pad being by far the worst. She doubted she had to remind him of that, since he’d fought right alongside her a couple of times.

“That was until I was arrested for assault.”

He lifted a brow.

“Joking. I’m joking.” She shifted on her feet, noticing the way he looked at the front of her jacket as if trying to see what lay underneath. “People seem to prefer to call me Maxi … so I let them.”

He didn’t say anything for a long moment and then he cleared his throat. “It suits you.”

“Yeah, well, that doesn’t mean you get to call me that. I’m still Max to you. Try calling me anything else and you’ll earn more than a sneer.”

They both laughed, but as soon as the moment passed, she became all too aware that they were alone. Together. In his apartment. After midnight.

Her heart beat an irregular rhythm in her chest and she swore she could actually hear her blood rushing through her veins like water through a pipe. How dumb she’d been to think a tight pair of jeans and push-up bra would be enough to get his attention when nearly twenty years of clothing changes had not.

She ran her tongue over her dry lips. “I guess we’d better get going …”

Jax met her gaze solidly and didn’t say anything for a long moment. She shoved her hands deeper into her jacket pockets and burrowed into the black leather.

“Listen, why don’t you spend the night …” he said, his voice trailing.

She looked around nervously. There was only the one bedroom that she could see.

“The couch is a queen sleeper.”

She turned back toward him.

“I know I told you I’d take you, and if you insist, of course, I will. But now that we’re here and warm …”

Warm …

No, she was hot. Sweltering hot. And her state had nothing to do with the temperature outside.

“Here,” he said. “Let me take your coat.”

He reached to presumably help her take it off. She automatically started to shrug off the attention, then instead took a deep breath, turned and allowed him to help her.

Was it her, or did his fingers linger just that much longer at the nape of her neck? Skim down her arms when no contact was needed?

She swallowed thickly and swiveled back to face him, every inch of her yearning to feel him touch her more purposefully, more meaningfully, starting with a kiss …

“Max?”

Her name was little more than a whisper. Her gaze fell to his mouth, a mouth she’d seen a million times before, but had never so badly wanted to feel it against hers.

She was sure if he didn’t kiss her right then and there she’d self-combust, leaving only the tiny particles that would scatter in the stiff winter breeze, leaving no hint she’d ever existed.

What scared her even more was that she was afraid the same might happen if he did kiss her …