Dream Man (Executive Women in Love Book 1) (11 page)

“I had the jazz club in mind, but if the music is good here, I don’t mind staying.”

Felicity had an earthy childlike quality, especially away from work. It contrasted dramatically with laser-like focus at the studio. He liked when she wasn’t so frazzled juggling camera shots, fitting all the action into a scene, and contending with the various personalities at her sets. He knew she thrived on the stress but he also wanted make sure she had enough rest and relaxation. “What do you say we get the corn chowder, salad, some cocas flatbreads, and the paella?”

Felicity studied the menu. “That sounds good, but I’d like to try some calamari stuffed with chorizo and roasted garlic and the red wine braised oxtail.”

“Exotic taste for such an exotic flower.” Max caressed her cheek. He’d love to ravish her. But, she deserved some old-fashioned courting. Heck, they’ve only dated a couple of weeks. They were still new. “I suppose you’re famished from all the walking and studying of exhibits today.”

“That I am.” But then her demeanor reflected a different kind of hunger.

A hunger he recognized—in himself.

It’d been close to nine o’clock by the time they’d settled the check and consumed a few gin drinks.

A band had set up and played some cool Spanish jazzy type of music. Max stood to take Felicity to the dance floor. As they danced, he spun and dipped her while the other restaurant patrons looked on admiring them.

God.
Part of him wanted to take care of her. Forever. And a part of him wanted to run as far away as physically possible. She bedeviled him.

She had no idea of the power she had over him.

Felicity went to sleep as soon as she hit the pillow, with her makeup and everything. When she awoke the next morning, she noted the adjoining door was ajar. Had Max come in during the night? She’d been a little tipsy from the gin cocktails and didn’t remember even going to bed. Maybe he tucked her in.

She giggled at the thought.

She remembered the goodnight kisses at the dividing door. It’d left her panting for more.
What in God’s name could he be afraid of?

The next day after breakfast on her terrace, they went to the zoo. It was overwhelmingly huge and crowded as can be expected for a Saturday afternoon. Max followed the map and led the way. Felicity didn’t mind Max doing all the work. It made things easier, and more relaxing.

They strolled the walkways hand-in-hand, stealing kisses like love-struck teenagers whenever little kids weren’t looking.

Later they enjoyed cocktails at Zamba’s, known for their Italian cuisine and whale sightings off the peer. With Max’s arm around her, she witnessed whales jumping and flipping out of the ocean, spouting huge reams of water as though putting a show on for them.

It was a bittersweet moment.

Felicity sadly thought Max would never be hers. She imagined he belonged elsewhere. A free soul. Just like the whales swimming in the Pacific. That must be why he’d been so closed off to sharing who and what he was. He wasn’t something to
be
shared, and no woman could or should take away what this amazing man was.

Let alone her.

They’d enjoyed candlelit dinner, with wine, and then Max, ever the thoughtful creature, bought her roses. He’d had them delivered to the table. This time they were pink.

Could it mean she was getting closer to his heart?

Felicity read the note attached to the bunch. “To Felice. Love, Max.”

Love?
Delicious shock waves coursed through her body. Could he possibly mean it?

Nah, she didn’t think he was ready. This was all part of his carefully laid out plans. She could tell he loved to please her, showering her with compliments and affection but invariably guarding his heart. He’d never opened his soul to her. And that saddened her.

What was he afraid of? Felicity knew the pain of abandonment. She knew the disappointment that could come with romantic love. She’d trusted Brad, with her life, her sister, and he let her down. Instead of warding off men, she decided to focus on herself and heal. She continued to heal. Through the emotional recovery she discovered an inner strength she didn’t know existed. Deeper than the one she needed to face the world alone, parent-less and a mere teenager. The renewed internal vigor gave her the confidence that made her even more self-reliant. She didn’t need anyone. She only needed herself.

Felicity believed once she achieved true self-love she’d be prepared to love another again.

But sadly Max didn’t appear to have reached a similar realization. He’d become close-lipped, even borderline angry whenever she’d mentioned his feelings or his past.

Maybe
that’s
why they hadn’t made love yet. He could be one of the rare men in the world who believed without love sex would be unfulfilling. Nah, Maxwell Marx, world-renown playboy? Who was she kidding?

“You seem a million miles away. What ya thinking about?” He gazed intently at Felicity as though trying to read her mind.

“Oh, nothing. I thought of all you’ve done to plan this wonderful weekend.” A little fib but he
did
go out of his way for her. “I could never thank you enough for the trouble you’ve taken to make this weekend so . . . perfect.” She felt her eyes tear up and cast her gaze down so he wouldn’t see. “I wish you didn’t have to leave.”
Darnit.
Now the emotions broke through.

She feared he’d spy her welled-up eyes. The last thing she wanted was his pity.

He took her hand. “It’s not permanent. Just a shoot like any other I do on location.”

Felicity willed her eyes to evaporate the soon-to-fall tears. Fortunately it worked. Max continued to hold her hand and for a moment appeared to be distant.

With the threat of tears now gone, Felicity squeezed his hand. It was time to unravel the mystery of Max. “What is really bringing you to New York? I mean, I think it’s more than the feature. Perhaps your mother is sick . . .” He paled at the mention of mother.
Uh-oh
. She’d evidently hit a nerve. “I mean, I know you said you don’t talk with her. Or, maybe there’s some kind of unfinished business.”
He should tell her if it had to do with another woman!
“I realize that other than the surface things, I really don’t know much about you, Max.”

Oops.
She slipped out with it. The darned drinks invariably gave her loose lips. Still, she wanted, no
needed
to know.

He snapped out of his daze and appeared surprised. “No, I have no family there. I told you they’re in the Outer Banks. Why do you ask?”

“You seem aloof at times. As though your mind is somewhere else. When you do this you seem . . . almost sad. Maybe if you share the
whole
story—”

He stiffened.

“I’m sorry. I don’t want to pry. But thoughts have crossed my mind.”

“Like what?”

“I dunno, it seems rather odd you are vague about when you’re going to return. You must have a shooting schedule. I’m sure you know the amount of time it’s going to take. But you’re evasive about your return date.” She observed his jaw tightening. Felicity could tell Max was uncomfortable with the subject matter.

She supposed he didn’t want to share and didn’t want to ruin his perfectly planned evening.

She decided to change to more neutral grounds and talk about
Executive Women
. She blathered about an eminent designer for Tiffany’s, an up-and-coming fashion editor from
Vogue
. The fact that Shantae from Applaud! was assuming more responsibility at the new network, freeing up more and more of her time for the creative end.

Yet as she chattered away, Max’s eyes glazed over.

Was he getting bored? Did she talk too much?

Felice realized no matter what she said or did she wouldn’t get to know what was beneath the surface of this Maxwell Marx.

Unless he wanted her to.

And she doubted he ever would.

Max got a bit annoyed with Felicity’s prying questions. She’d ruined his jovial mood. He’d felt she was pressuring him to reveal more about his haunted past. It wasn’t something he wanted to do.

He wanted to uphold the image that he’d been a strong, confident, capable man who’d helped so many less fortunate women, not reveal his vulnerabilities.

Felicity didn’t appear to need him. She had her own direction and proved to be entirely autonomous.

Yet even though he had doubts about his abilities to give, he wanted her to need him.

There’d be only one way to resolve his problems. And he had every intention of taking care of it.

But, for now, he’d like to enjoy the remainder of their evening.

After dinner and back at the Inn, they sat by the pool. Max intended to unwind as he uncorked a bottle of wine. Dull his senses a little more, and continue playing it safe.

“Hey, did you bring your bathing suit? I’d like to slip into the Jacuzzi,” Felicity asked with that child-like enthusiasm he’d found so amazing.

Ahh. Felicity in a bathing suit. The pool area was empty of guests. The moon full and a cool air breezed through the foliage-enclosed area.

It was romantic. Despite himself, Max felt his body unwind and his mind relax. “Let’s do it.” He fired up the Jacuzzi to get it good and hot for their return.

Max helped her up and escorted her to her room. “Knock on the adjoining room when you’re dressed.”

When she knocked, Max automatically gazed at Felicity’s body. She’d put on a modest yet somewhat revealing dark-blue bikini, her ample breasts bulging above the top hemline and though he tried not to gawk, he peered at the curve of her hips, covered by a blue, see-through sarong tied around her narrow, tight waist above shapely legs.

He couldn’t help himself. He crushed her body against his and consumed her mouth.

Reason gripped him from the back of his mind, telling him to get control over himself.
Had to.
“Sorry, honey. You are irresistible and incredibly tantalizing.”

“Why are you apologizing? I’m not complaining.” She draped her arms around his neck and pulled him to her for more kisses.

He kissed her close-mouthed and said, “Come on, the bubbles are waiting.”

Max took her hand and led her behind him to the spa. Max helped Felicity in before climbing in behind her. The swirling waters circled them and he held her close. His hands had a mind of their own as they inadvertently, inescapably moved to her breasts, so soft, so tender. Max dipped his finger inside her bathing suit top and her nipples became erect against his touch. He rubbed the back of his index finger against her right nipple. Then her left.
Ah, God!
He hardened up like a soldier in salute. Felicity would feel it, he was sure.

Oh yeah, she’d felt it all right. Especially since she’d climbed onto his lap. His hand, again of its own volition, went directly to her inner thigh then inside her bathing suit bottom to her sweet spot. As his fingers traveled inside the soft lips of her essence, Felicity moaned in his ear, encouraging further caresses.

God help him, there would be no going back now.

“Humph!”

The sound of an annoyed throat-clearing came from behind them. He turned toward to source of the untimely interruption to discover a middle-aged man and woman at the edge of the spa.

Max wasn’t sure he’d been relieved or irritated with the couple’s arrival. He promptly placed Felicity safely in the seat next to him. He attempted to regain control over his body for the umpteenth time since he’d met this vixen of a woman.

The couple slipped into the Jacuzzi with them. He couldn’t exactly get out right then. Max withstood a few minutes of excruciating awkward conversation with the strangers and when it was safe Max politely excused himself and Felicity. They headed to their rooms.

“What an unfortunate interruption,” Felicity whispered in his ear while giggling and tugging close to his side. At her door, she fumbled with her room key. She led him into her room. Her eyes, mouth, and body invited him forward to her bed. She continued to tug at his arm and unhooked her bathing suit top. Too quickly. It slipped to the floor and then she went for the bottoms.

Oh God. He couldn’t. He shouldn’t. He promised himself he wouldn’t.

Max forced himself to glance away. “Not now, Felice. Please. We should wait.”

Silence.

He peeked up, afraid to see the expected dejection on her face. She’d wrapped the sarong around herself, which barely covered her glorious breasts.

And then he spotted her angry brow. An emotion he hadn’t observed in her very often.

“What do you mean?”

“I wanted to keep things the way they are. At least until I get back. Give us time to think.”

“Think about what, Max? Just what is it that we have to think about? We both want each other. Why are you pushing me away?” She moved close to him and put her hand to his cheek. “There’s nothing wrong with this. With us.”

Max put his hand over hers, removed it, and squeezed her palm gently. “No, it’s not that it’s wrong. But you deserve better.”

“Oh, don’t start telling me what I deserve. Again.” She raised her voice, her irritation clear. “I know what I deserve. And I know what I want. I’m a big girl, Max. Why won’t you open up? What’s really going on in New York?”

His amorous mood now extinguished, he could sense her frustration rising. Max felt his voice rising to match her volume. “What is your fixation with New York? There’s nothing in New York except a job. That’s it. I don’t think we’re on terms to question each other’s business, are we?” And he regretted the words as soon as they spilled out.

Shit.

Before he could back-pedal, she snapped, “Oh, and what are we? Friends? You come on all strong and heavy and then back off. Like you’re marred or something. Are you? Because there’s something you’re not telling me. I know it.”

“I’ll tell you what. Why don’t we sleep it off and talk more in the morning?” He knew he’d better get out of there. And fast. Passion, alcohol, and misunderstandings don’t mix. He stepped toward the adjoining door. “Really. We’ll have a good talk when we’re . . . more coherent.”