Born to Be Wild (29 page)

“Just do what feels right to you.”

She put her hand on his stomach, swirling her
fingers through the hair on his chest. “Touching you feels right.” He gritted his teeth as she kissed his navel, and fire shot through his loins.

Bracing his hands on her knees, he spread her legs gently. He wanted to slide his fingers under her bathing suit and feel the heat inside her. It would have been so easy, but that wasn’t his intention now. He lowered himself into the water, sat between her thighs, and they squeezed around him.

Like a woman born to pamper a man, she kneaded the muscles along his spine with her fingers, working her way up to his shoulders, his neck. “Relax,” she whispered.

His head fell forward as her fingers worked their magic.

“Tell me about your sister,” she said, drawing his head back to rest beneath her chin as she gently massaged his temples. “What’s her name?”

“Charlotte.”

“Do you think she might have changed her name? That she might have been adopted? That might be why you’re having trouble finding her.”

“I’ve thought a million things since I started searching, the only thing I won’t allow myself to think is that she might be dead.” He closed his eyes, drew one of her hands to his mouth, and pressed a slow, lingering kiss to her palm. “Sometimes, like today, it seems useless to keep looking.”

“Why?”

“I’ve been searching since I was twenty. I spent
a couple of years riding from town to town trying to come up with leads, but I couldn’t find a thing, except my mother.” He pulled Lauren’s arms around him, hugging them close to his chest, soaking in her comfort. He told Lauren about being deserted at ten, about his mother driving off with his brother and sister and promising to send for him, about finding out that Zack was dead.

“When I found my mother she was living in Brentwood, in a place that was a far cry from the trailer where I’d been raised. She had a rich husband, she had the life she’d always dreamed of, and she didn’t want memories or the reality of her past messing up what she had.”

“But she must have been happy to see you.”

Max laughed. “I showed up on her doorstep and you would have thought I was a complete stranger. She told me to go away, but I walked right into her house, for all the good that did. She didn’t want to talk to me, claimed she didn’t know who I was talking about when I mentioned Charlotte and Zack, and said she’d never had a son named Max. Then she picked up the phone to call the police. That’s when I left, and I didn’t bother going back again.”

“I’m sorry, Max.”

“It’s history. I don’t think about her. I try not to think about Zack because I can’t bring him back, but I can’t get Charlotte off my mind.”

“You’ll find her,” Lauren whispered, and kissed his shoulder before he pushed away from
her and easily switched places, drawing her luscious hips between his thighs, her sleek back against his chest.

“It’s my turn to ease some of your tension,” he said, sliding his hands over her arms, her shoulders, gently
massaging the tightness at the base of her neck. He could easily run his fingers under her bathing suit and drive her mad with passion, then satisfy his own burning need, but holding her, touching her, talking to her tonight was what she needed. And that made him feel good inside.

He kissed the top of her head, resting his chin in the softness of her hair. “Tell me about your day.“

She swirled her fingers over his thigh, her touch driving him mad, making him want to forget all his good intentions. But when she started to recount the day’s events, he was caught up in the happiness of her voice.

“I think I might make a good mother after all,” she said. “I didn’t have to threaten or raise my voice, and once Jamie and Ryan realized that I couldn’t be intimidated, we got along fine.”

“I suppose the shopping trip did wonders, too?”

She tilted her head upward, and he could see the smile in her eyes. “Shopping is one of the highlights of life.”

“I saw a new basketball in Ryan’s room. Did he get that before or after he did his history assignments?”

“After, of course. I thought we’d never get his
homework done. Goodness, Max, he hates history more than I do.”

“And what about Jamie?” he asked, trailing his fingers along the top edge of her suit, fighting the urge to circle them over the hardened nipples he
’d seen through the stretchy lavender fabric. “What did you buy her?”

“Girl stuff. Some adorable shirts, a pair of sandals, some panties and bras.”

His fingers stilled. “Did she talk you into that?”

“Of course not. It was all my idea.”

“But she has clothes, she has sandals, and she
has
bras!”

Lauren twisted around, hitting him with a frown. “You call those dreadful things you bought her bras?”

“She’s eleven years old, for God’s sake! What more does she need?”

“Something frilly and feminine, which is exactly what I purchased.”

“Not at Victoria’s Secret, I hope?”

“Of course not. We went to the boutique where I buy most all of my lingerie. I actually found a few things that weren’t too expensive.”

His entire body tensed. “And what exactly is your definition of not too expensive?”

“A hundred dollars or so.”

“For how many? Half a dozen?”

“Don’t be silly. That was for one bra and a matching pair of panties, and I couldn’t believe our luck that they had the same thing in seven different colors.”

“So you bought all seven?”

She smiled sweetly. “A set for each day of the week.”

Max plowed his fingers through his hair. “You know, Lauren, I do okay with my catering business. I’ve got a house that’s paid for and I’ve made some smart investments that help me live comfortably, but if I have to buy hundred-dollar bras every time I turn around, I’ll be broke in a year.”

“What I purchased today was a gift. Purely a girl thing, because honestly, Max, Jamie needed someone like me to take her shopping for bras. Of course, she’ll grow out of them soon—”

“I don’t want to hear about it.”

“It’s a fact of life.”

“I’m only interested in one pair of breasts,” he barked, staring at the objects he’d become quite fond of in recent days. “
Your
breasts are the
only
breasts I want to talk about, the
only
breasts I want to think about, and the
only
breasts I want to touch.”

Lauren smiled. “Oh, Max, you say the sweetest things.”

“Don’t get too used to it.” He grinned. “It takes a lot of energy for me to say something that creative.”

“I don’t think it takes any energy at all.” She moved
closer and lightly kissed his lips. “You just get disgruntled and all sorts of things flow from this wonderful mouth of yours.”

“Getting disgruntled comes easily when you’re around.”

“I know.” She pushed away from him
and climbed from the pool. “That’s why I’m leaving,” she said, combing her fingers through her hair and smoothing it away from her face. “If I stick around much longer you’re going to be all tense again, and you won’t be able to sleep.”

“I’m tense right now, and the last thing I want to do is sleep.” He followed her across the patio and wrapped one of the towels about her.

“I know what you want to do,” she said, lifting his hands to her mouth and kissing his knuckles. “I want the same thing.”

“Then don’t leave. I’ll turn out the lights, we’ll get back in the pool.”

“There’s a time and place for everything,” she said, the voice of reason when all his sensibilities had left him. “This isn’t it.”

“Tomorrow night, then. I’ll get someone to watch the kids.”

She stilled his words with another kiss. “Mrs. Fisk, my cook, came home this afternoon. My mother’s gone and my house is virtually empty. Why don’t you come for dinner at eight? Maybe you can tell me again that my breasts are the only ones you want to touch.”

He kissed her lightly. “I’ll show you instead.”

She smiled, and all too soon pulled away from him, grabbed her tote bag, and headed for her car. His arms felt empty; he wanted her back. But tomorrow night she wouldn’t leave. Tomorrow night he’d have all that he wanted.

Lauren rolled down the car window after she started the engine. “I’ll have Charles bring up the
best bottle of wine from the cellar, and I’ll tell Mrs. Fisk not to bother with dessert.”

“Good,” Max said. “We’ll have each other instead.”

L
auren spent half the morning zipping in and out of Ralph Lauren, Chanel, and Cartier, looking for the perfect clothing and accessories for a romantic evening. She had the oddest feeling that Max didn’t give a fig for what she wore, in fact, he’d probably prefer her in nothing at all, but she did want to look her best when he peeled away every speck of her attire.

When noon rolled around, she strolled into Frederico’s for the works. Pasta and shrimp was brought in for her while Frederico did her hair. She sipped Perrier as Lola
did her nails, and Linda gave her a facial. She opted for Chablis when Shirley applied the wax to her legs and other portions of her anatomy. As often as she’d
gone through this routine, it still made her tense, and the wine soothed her anxiety.

“Holly Rutherford was in here early this morning,” Shirley chirped, then happily ripped off a strip of cooled wax. “That woman can definitely talk up a storm. Naturally I heard all about the disaster with her wedding cake for the umpteenth time.”

“Is she still blaming it on me?” Lauren asked through nearly clenched teeth.

“Well, of course she is, but we all know you weren’t responsible.” Shirley leaned close to Lauren’s ear. “Mrs. Rutherford’s very chintzy when it comes to tipping, unlike you. On top of that, she’s informed every one of us that we’re to call her
Mrs.
Rutherford and not Holly any longer, considering that she’s a married woman now.” Shirley shook her head. “That woman’s attitude is just too high and mighty to suit me or anyone else around here, so she doesn’t get special privileges. And when it comes to who we like and who we don’t, as well as who we believe and who we don’t believe, she’s at the bottom of the scale and you, sweetie, are right up there at the top.”

“That means a lot to me, Shirley.”

“We like the fact that you’re not a gossip, either. Holly Rutherford, on the other hand, goes nonstop from the moment she walks in here till the moment she leaves. I don’t know anyone in Palm Beach who’s escaped that woman’s tongue. And now she’s hitting on people in West Palm Beach. Can you believe that?”

Shirley spread wax high on Lauren’s inner thigh and kept right on talking. “This morning she gave me the complete low-down on her stolen jewelry.”

Lauren’s ears perked up at the mention of another jewelry theft. “Did she say what was taken?”

“Naturally, and of course we didn’t escape hearing
any
of the details. A fifty-four-carat aquamarine and diamond pendant. Mrs. Rutherford was very explicit about the size of the aquamarine, wanting us to know that she’s filthy rich, as if her high and mighty attitude didn’t give us a clue.”

“Did she say when it was stolen? Where?”

“She believes it happened last Saturday, probably at Betsy Endicott’s wedding.” A gasp escaped from Shirley’s lips. “Goodness gracious sakes alive! Betsy’s wedding was at your place. You didn’t have anything stolen, did you?”

“Of course not.” Lauren wasn’t about to tell Shirley about Bunny Endicott’s necklace or the fact that Bunny was sure it had disappeared during the wedding. She definitely wouldn’t mention Bunny’s suspicions about Max’s friends.

“I bet Holly misplaced her necklace,” Lauren stated. “You know how forgetful people can be at times.”

“Mrs. Rutherford said
she
might
have misplaced it, because she can’t remember if she wore the missing necklace or another diamond and aquamarine pendant to the wedding.
But
she did tell the police that it may have disappeared at Betsy Endicott’s wedding because,
apparently,
Bunny Endicott
swears
a piece of her jewelry disappeared that day, too.”