Fade Into You (8 page)

I took a deep breath and answered it.

He said, “Hey, babe.”

Babe?
I might have taken that as a cute term of endearment had the situation been different, and had I not talked myself into this frenzy of doubt over being his latest score.

“Max, I—”

“Before you say anything, I’m on the way over.”

“What?”

“I’m about ten minutes away from your place. Thought I’d stop by.”

“I wish you’d called before,” I said.

“I just did, but you didn’t answer.”

“You know what I mean.”

Screw it. I might not be ready for the talk, but it had to happen sooner or later. And since he was on his way over, it looked like this was going to happen sooner.

Ten minutes later, just as he’d promised, Max knocked on my door.

When I opened it, he somehow looked even better than he had before. Or maybe it was just my subconscious reminding me what I was about to do—tell this gorgeous, rich man to take a hike because I couldn’t deal with the jealousy, distrust, and doubt.

He wore black slacks, with a blue button-down shirt. Simple. Understated. But damn, so sexy on him. He had one hand on the doorjamb, the other behind his back, striking a relaxed pose.

After our phone call, I had rushed into my room and changed out of my ratty sweatpants and t-shirt, back into the clothes I’d worn to work that day. It may seem kind of silly, trying to look my best and not wanting him to see me so casual, when this was going to be the last time we’d ever be around each other casually. From this point on, it would be all business. And that’s why the professional attire worked.

“Ready for work?” he said, going for light-hearted.

I forced a smile. “We need to talk.”

I moved aside and he stepped across the threshold. “Those are never good words.”

As he moved past me, Max brought his hand around from behind his back and produced a bottle of wine. Great. He’d come here thinking that we’d have a few glasses of wine, loosen up, and have a roll in the sack.

“Your favorite,” he said.

I looked at it for a second but made no move to take it.

“What’s wrong, Olivia?”

I looked down at the floor. “Let’s sit down.”

He followed me into the den. I sat in a chair as Max took a seat on the couch. He put the bottle of wine on top of a magazine on the coffee table. “Not even going to sit beside me?”

“Max…I’m sorry. I can’t do this.”

“If it’s a bad time—”

“No.” I sighed, dropping my head into my hands.
Breathe, Olivia. Gather your strength and get this over with.
“I can’t do this. Us. What we’re doing. I’m sorry.” My words were coming out in nearly incoherent sputtering.

“Is this about the other night?”

I nodded. “But not the sex. It was the brush-off.”

“I wasn’t brushing you off.”

“Max, please. Let me finish.”

“Sorry. Go on.”

I took a slow, deep breath. “I shouldn’t have let things go as far as they did. It was my fault. I should have trusted my instincts.” I looked down at my hand as though examining my fingernails, then looked back up at him. “There’s something you don’t know about me. I have some…baggage, to put it mildly. Things that happened before I moved here. I’m not ready for a relationship, or dating, or any of this.”

Max leaned back on the sofa and put his arms behind his head. “Tell me.”

“I just told you.”

“Tell me what happened,” he pleaded.

“I don’t want to go into it. The details aren’t important.”

He sat forward quickly, then got on the floor on one knee. It was too close to looking like a proposal.

“Don’t,” I said, sliding back on the chair.

He put his hand on my knee. “We all have baggage, Olivia. You think I took you home the other night for no reason?”

“What do you mean?”

“Baggage. I have it, too.”

I looked at him through the tears that were welling up in my eyes. “Tell me.”

He gave me a half-smile. “I asked first.”

I laughed.

“I’ll tell you,” he said. “And I’ll go first. I’ll share with you if you share with me.”

“Okay.”

He sat on the floor, extended his long legs out, and leaned back on his hands. “I’m not going to lie; I’ve had my share of flings. All Hollywood cliché bullshit. All of it. Sometimes I wonder if there’s a single person in this town who’s real. I guess it shouldn’t be surprising that everyone here is playing some part in their own little film of their life. Do you know how long it’s been since I’ve had a meaningful conversation with a woman?”

I shook my head.

“Me either,” he said. “I gave up trying to remember the last time. The worst part is, everyone’s after something. A part in a movie. Money. Being seen on a red carpet. It doesn’t matter what it is, if I have it, someone wants it, and there’s no shortage of women who’ll do anything to get it. I’ve played the game long enough. It’s not interesting anymore. There’s no challenge, no mystery, no romance.”

“Wow.”

He was speaking with such conviction, he almost looked pissed off about it.

“I’m not even doing what I love anymore,” he said.

“Making movies? But you’re at the top now.”

He threw his head back, and I felt kind of silly, like I’d missed something. And I had.

“That’s a whole different issue for another time. I shouldn’t have brought it up.”

“But I want to know,” I said, getting on the floor next to him. God, I wanted to know. What was in the mind and heart of this man?

He shook his head. “It’s not important right now. What
is
important is that now you know why I didn’t let you get too close to me. Do you see this like I do? What we did was amazing. Mind-blowing, actually. But there’s something more to having someone stay in your bed overnight.”

“I do see it like that. But—”

“Wait. I know what you’re going to say. You’re not like the girls I just described. I know that now. Hell, I knew it then. But it’s almost a reflex now. I shouldn’t have done that. And I’m sorry I handled it like that with you.”

We were silent for a moment. I wanted to kiss him, but more than that, I wanted him to kiss me. He didn’t.

“Now,” he said. “Unload your baggage. We had a deal.”

“I know.” I took a breath. “I had a relationship with a guy for three years, back in Ohio. I was headed down the same road as my mom and my sister—find a guy, get married, have kids. I found the guy, but it turned out he found other girls, too.”

Max frowned.

“Three of them, to be exact,” I said. “I found out about the first two at the same time. Before I got up the nerve to confront him, I found out about the third. That’s when I told him I was done, it was over, so long, all that.”

“It didn’t go well,” Max said, as if he already knew, but there was no way he could know. He just guessed there was a lot more.

I let out a deep sigh. “Not well at all. I’d never seen him so angry. I wasn’t scared of him, but I didn’t want to see him ever again. I stopped going out with my friends because I thought I’d run into him. I’d go to the mall and be nervous that he’d be there and we’d have an argument. He was calling me all the time, leaving messages, texting, pretty much begging me to forgive him. He came to our house one night—I was living at home—and my father had to call the police to get rid of him. It was getting that bad.”

“Stalker.”

“Yep. So, anyway, he shows up at my house one day when my parents aren’t there. I’m at the kitchen table getting resumes and cover letters together. Regular day. And then he just walks in. Right into the kitchen, through the door that leads to the backyard.”

Max sat forward, closer to me. “Jesus, Olivia.”

I got a little choked up talking about it again. Max put his hand on my leg and gave it a light, comforting squeeze.

“So,” I said, battling back the tears, “he’s saying he just wants to talk and I’m telling him to leave. He refuses. I stand up and yell at him to leave, telling him I’m going to call the police. That’s when he moved around the table before I could even process what was happening. He backed me up against the wall and said—I’ll never forget these words—he said, ‘I’ll never let you love anyone else.’ And I said, ‘I don’t love you.’”

Max’s eyebrows rose. For a split second, I thought how surprising that was. Here was a writer, a story-teller, successful maker of movies, riveted by my story.

I needed to get the story over with. I hated thinking about it, much less talking about it. “That’s when he raised his fist and cocked his arm back, like he was about to punch me in the face. God, the anger I saw in his eyes…it was terrifying. I’d never seen that in him before. I’d never seen that in
anyone
.”

“Did he hit you, Olivia?”

I shook my head. “No. I just crumbled right there in front of him. Fell right to the floor, hysterically crying. I don’t know if that’s what stopped him or what. I just stayed on the floor and after a minute or so, I saw his shoes turn the other way and he left. Just walked out. Didn’t say anything.”

Max moved closer and put his arm around me.

I said, “You’re only the second person I’ve told.”

He lowered his head to my shoulder and kissed it. Then he looked up, put a finger under my chin and turned my face toward his. “I’m sorry, Olivia.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“No, about how I handled the other night.”

“Oh, well, that
is
your fault.” I smiled.

Thankfully, Max had a sense of humor and took my sarcasm in stride.

We were silent for a few moments and then he had the best idea I’d heard in a long time.

“I’m not going to ask to stay here, or ask you to come home with me. I’m going to leave, and tomorrow I’ll pick you up, we’ll go on a date—a
real
date, our first one—and we’ll make all of this right. Like it’s all new. How does that sound?”

I threw my arms around his neck and pulled him close. “Perfect.”

“Good. Are you okay after that talk? Okay to be by yourself?”

I nodded. “I’m fine.”

We moved toward the door. While it was a little strange with him leaving after we’d opened up to each other on such a deeply personal level, it was also thrilling. The anticipation of a real date with Max Dalton was taking over the sadness of having to tell my story. Somehow, Max knew exactly the right thing for us to do next if we were going to move forward.

He stopped at the door, took me in his arms and kissed me sweetly.

“Just one thing,” I said. “After what we did on your couch the other day, I’m not sure
everything
will be so new.”

Max grinned to match my teasing facial expression. In the sexiest tone he said, “Oh, you just wait.” And with that, he opened the door and left.

I wasn’t sure I wanted to wait. I felt more for this man after our conversation, and I wanted to be close to him. I wanted him inside me, filling me.

I needed distraction, so I chose the thing I hated the most and started doing some laundry. I’d let it pile up too long and a chore was the best alternative for sitting around and replaying all that had happened.

But I wished Max was there.

And ten minutes later my heart did a little flutter when I heard a knock at the door. Had I willed him to turn around and come back? Had I wished into existence the sight of him standing in my doorway, telling me he wanted to stay the night?

I got to the door and couldn’t unlock it fast enough. I stopped just before opening it, closed my eyes, took a deep breath, but couldn’t stop the ear-to-ear smile on my face.

I opened the door and the fluttering in my heart turned to a pounding—a scary thumping in my ears and throat, my body’s instant fight or flight reaction to the sight of Chris standing there.

What felt like hours couldn’t have even been minutes. It could only have been mere seconds until he spoke.

“Hear me out.”

That’s all he said. I stood there stunned, my mouth going dry, my heart still thundering in my chest. I didn’t say anything.

“Look, Olivia, I know this might seem strange—”

“You’re goddamn right it is.” I started to close the door, but he stuck his foot in the way too fast. I quickly reached up and fastened the chain. It wasn’t a very good barrier, but it was my only choice at the moment. “I swear to God I’ll call the police if you don’t leave.”

He didn’t move. “Just hear me out, okay? I’m sorry.”

“Sorry? For what? For stalking me? For freaking out on me? For almost hitting me? For stalking me
all the way out here
? Go away. Forever!”

I pushed on the door, trying to make him move his foot, but he didn’t budge.

“I drove all the way here to talk to you. I’m not going away until you talk to me.”

“You’re going away,” the voice said.

Through the narrow opening in the door, I saw Chris look to his left. “Who the hell are
you
?”

Chris was suddenly gone. In a flash I saw Max’s body shove him out of the way. I unchained the door and poked my head out. Max and Chris were on the sidewalk. Max was getting the better of him. One punch to the face and Chris seemed dazed.

Max rose from the ground, pulling Chris up with him. Max looked at me. “Chris, right?”

I nodded.

The front of Chris’s shirt was bunched in Max’s fists. Max shook him and threw him against the wall, then moved to stand in front of him.

I peered around the corner so I could see them again.

Chris said, “You broke my nose.”

“You’re lucky.”

“Who the hell are you?”

Max said, “I’m the guy who’s going to make it my mission to destroy your pathetic fucking life if you don’t leave Olivia alone.”

Chris covered his face with one hand. Blood was running down his wrist. For once, Chris was telling the truth—Max really had broken his nose.

“Do you understand me?”

Chris looked at his bloody hand.

Max raised his fist and drew it back behind his head. “Does this look familiar?”

Chris looked at me. I kept my eyes trained on Max.