Born to Be Wild (25 page)

But he needed to learn the truth about the woman in Phoenix.

He looked at his watch. “Let me see if I can get a flight out this morning, or this afternoon at the latest. I’ve got to get a sitter for the kids, make a few phone calls.”

“My flight home’s not till late tomorrow,” Harry said. “You’ve got my cell phone number. Just let me know when you’re getting in and I’ll let the woman here know you’re coming.”

Max hung up the phone and braced his hands on the counter top. He stared out the kitchen window, seeing nothing but the memories of his little sister.

Ryan leaned on the counter beside him, “Where you going?” he asked.

“Phoenix, if I can get a flight.”

“You could take me and Jamie with you.”

In spite of the turmoil roiling through him right now, he managed to grin at Ryan. “Why, so you can have an extra day to work on that history assignment?”

“It seemed like a good idea.”

“I don’t think so.”

Max grabbed for a box of cereal, not caring what he pulled out of the cabinet, and set it on the counter. “I’ve got to get your sister out of her room, I’ve got some phone calls to make, and—”

“Do you think this one might be your sister?” Ryan asked, taking cereal bowls down from a shelf.

“I don’t know. I hope so.”

Ryan poured Cheerios into one of the bowls. “I hated it when Jamie and I got sent to different foster homes.” He looked up briefly as he poured the milk. “I didn’t think I’d ever see her again.”

Ryan’s gaze darted quickly back to his bowl and he shoveled a spoonful of cereal into his mouth. He never talked about his mother’s death or his father’s imprisonment, and rarely mentioned the fact that he and Jamie had been separated for nearly three years. Max didn’t bring it up, either. He knew all too well what separation was like, knew the good and bad aspects of the foster system. He was thankful Philippe had taken him in; thankful that he himself had taken in Jamie and Ryan.

He hadn’t given much thought to becoming a foster father until Ryan showed up at the Hole. He was an angry twelve-year-old who wanted to run away from everyone and everything. He was tough, far too often he had a smart mouth, and he was this close to getting in trouble with the law.

They were two of a kind. It had taken Philippe a few years to straighten Max out, and Max figured it would take at least that amount of time to work on Ryan. They’d had some major battles in
the beginning, but once Max learned that Ryan had a little sister, once he’d found Jamie and brought her into their home, the troubles had eased. They still had their problems, but he refused to give up.

“You want me to get Jamie off to school for you?” Ryan asked, looking up from his cereal. “She’s a pain in the butt most of the time, but you’ve got stuff to do.”

Max looked at Ryan, wishing he could tell the boy how much that offer meant. But Ryan considered himself too old for verbal or physical displays of affection, so Max just said, “Thanks.”

“You want us to go to the Hole after school?”

“No, come home today. I’ll see if Jazz can watch you tonight.”

“I’m old enough to take care of Jamie.”

“I know, but humor me just this once, okay.”

Ryan shoveled another spoonful of cereal into his mouth. “Okay.”

Max fluffed Ryan’s hair, another display of affection the boy hated, and headed for his office. He had a million things to do and far too much on his mind, the last of which should have been Lauren Remington.

But right this moment, he wanted to be near her, wanted to feel her arms holding him tight. He was worried about seeing the woman in Phoenix. Afraid she wouldn’t be his sister; afraid she would. He’d never shared his troubles with a soul, never known anyone he’d wanted to share them with.

Until Lauren.

oOo

Lauren drummed her fingers on the red crocodile Gucci handbag she’d picked up at Bergdorf Goodman yesterday, and watched the traffic whizzing past the car as Charles drove along Ocean Boulevard. She was anxious to get home. More anxious, in fact, than she’d been to get away from Palm Beach and what had seemed like a miserable existence a few days before.

The impromptu trip to New York for a shopping spree on Fifth Avenue hadn’t solved any of her problems, hadn’t erased any of her worries, and definitely hadn’t taken her mind off Max.

He was all she’d thought of. That and the fact that she wished she’d called him instead of running away, wished she’d fallen into his arms and poured her heart and soul out to him. He was the first man she’d ever confided in. Oh, she’d cried on more than a few shoulders, but usually over superficial things. She’d never told anyone how much her past bothered her. Never told anyone how frightened she was of being hurt again. She’d never wanted to share those things with anyone.

Until Max.

Now, however, it was highly possible that he wouldn’t want to speak to her again. After all the things Charles had told her about what he’d done—carrying her out of Tattoo Annie’s and tucking her in bed—she should have called and at least said thanks. She should have called to tell him where she was going, but she’d just run
away, needing time to sort out all the things going through her mind.

Hiding in New York had been her way of protecting herself, her way of not saying yes to Max when she needed to say, “Someday.” It was her way of making sure she didn’t let him take over her life.

But she couldn’t run away from Max or her fears forever. He was too firmly embedded in her mind and heart, and it looked like he was there to stay.

The phone was ringing when she walked into the house, and she picked up the extension in the foyer. “Hello.”

There was silence on the other end of the line and she almost hung up, but then she heard Max’s voice. “So, you finally decided to come home, or have you been there all the time, refusing to take or return my calls?”

She deserved his anger because he was good and kind and wonderful, and she’d been horrid.

“I was in New York.” A lump formed in her throat when Max didn’t respond. “I’m sorry, Max. I owe you an apology for so many things, it’s hard to know where to begin.”

“Why not start by telling me why you left? I was under the impression things were going pretty good between us. I thought we’d get together Sunday night, or Monday night, or even last night, but
hell, no, you went to New York.”

“Things
were
going well. I don’t remember any time with any man ever being so special.”

“So why’d you run away?”

She sat down in a chair and stared at the cold marble floor. “I was scared.”

“Of what?”

She couldn’t tell him that she was afraid of a lot of things, like becoming someone different and losing friends who might not approve of her relationship with Max.

All of those things were too complicated to talk about now, especially over the phone.
Instead she told him the one thing that he could probably understand. “I’m scared of falling in love with you. I may have made some mistakes in my other relationships, but I was hurt every time one of them fell apart. If I give myself to you and things don’t work out, I don’t think I’ll recover as easily as I have in the past.”

“So,” Max
said, sighing in frustration, “what are you going to do? Tell me that you don’t want to see me again, because you don’t want to fall in love?”

“No,” Lauren admitted. “I came back to tell you that I
do
want to see you again, whether we fall in love or not, whether you break my heart or not, because you’re worth taking a chance.” She wiped away an escaping tear, wishing he’d say something—afraid of his silence. “What about you, Max?” she asked. “Am I worth taking a chance on, too?”

“I
told you last Saturday night that I wanted you. That hasn’t changed.”

A flutter of relief raced through her. “Then maybe we should start over again. Tonight, if you
can get away. We could go to dinner, go dancing, or just sit on the beach and talk.”

“I can’t tonight. I’ve got a flight to Phoenix in an hour and I’m not sure when I’ll be home.”

With some other man she might have considered the words a brush-off, but she heard the troubled tone in Max’s voice.

“Is everything all right?”
she asked.

“Yeah.” He was silent a moment, and then he sighed. “No, everything isn’t all right. I’m having troubles finding someone to take care of Jamie and Ryan while I’m gone.”

Surely he wasn’t going to ask her? “What about Bear? Or Jazz or Gabe?”

“Jazz has to work tonight and Gabe and Bear are out of town.”

“Couldn’t somebody at the Hole watch them?”

He was silent again. A deafening silence. And then he hit her. “I was thinking you could do it.”

“Me?”

“Yeah, you.” H
e had the nerve to chuckle.

“But I don’t know the first thing about kids.”

“They’re eleven and fourteen. They don’t need their diapers changed and they can eat pizza for dinner. I just need someone to stay with them to make sure they don’t get into any trouble.”

From the little she’d seen of Ryan, he could be the poster boy for “Trouble,” and Jamie wasn’t the least bit crazy about Lauren tampering with Max’s affections. But there was something special about Max’s kids. She saw a little bit of herself in Jamie and a whole lot of Max in Ryan.

How could she possibly turn Max down when
he needed her help, especially after he’d come to her rescue more than once.

“All right,” she said, apprehensive—but excited—at the prospect of being a makeshift mom for a day or two. “Just give me a few minutes to gather up a few things, and I’ll be right over.”

“I owe you for this,” Max said, his voice filled with the warmth that Lauren had never known in other men.

“You don’t owe me a thing,” Lauren said. “But if you insist on paying me back, I wouldn’t mind another dance.”

“I’d like to give you more than that.”

Lauren leaned back in the chair and smiled, thinking of all the delicious things Max could give her. “There’s really only one thing I want,” she told him.

“And what’s that?”

“You. Just you.”

T
he staring contest ended within half an hour. It started shortly after Ryan made it perfectly clear to Lauren that he didn’t want or need a baby-sitter. That was followed by Jamie’s declaration that she took care of Max and she didn’t want or need a rich woman moving in. All three of them sized each other up for twenty-seven minutes and twelve seconds. Lauren knew the exact time, because she’d continually looked at her watch, wondering how long it would be before Max returned.

Finally Ryan turned on his
Xbox— with the sound excessively loud on a shoot-em-up game—and Jamie took the vacuum cleaner from a closet and began cleaning floors. Apparently they thought the noise would drive Lauren out.

They were wrong.

Lauren smoothed out a wrinkle in her orchid print sundress as she lounged on the black leather sofa in Max’s family room. Crossing her legs, she flipped through an issue of
Elle,
raising her eyes only when she sensed Ryan or Jamie watching her, looking for just the right moment to strike.

“Max has lots of girlfriends,” Jamie said, pushing the vacuum cleaner back and forth, dangerously close to Lauren’s toes.

They’d had a similar conversation at Betsy’s wedding reception, but Lauren humored her. “Is that so?”

“Yeah. At least three or four a week ’cause he gets tired of the same old thing all the time.”

“My dad was exactly the same way. After he divorced my mother, I think he dated every eligible woman in the state of Wyoming.” Jamie’s eyes widened in shock, as Lauren continued. “I didn’t get to spend much time with my father
—or
my mother—but when I did, I wanted them totally to myself.”

Jamie nodded, obviously having the same sentiments.

Lauren didn’t bother telling Jamie that after Reece Remington exhausted the women in Wyoming, he’d handed the ranch over to her brother Jack and moved to New Mexico because he needed fresh pickings.