Fools Rush In (13 page)

A half hour later, Erin stood in the middle of a luxurious room, dazed and glassy-eyed, swaying on her feet. Her purse strap slipped from her shoulder, and the bag hit the thick carpet with a plop, but she was oblivious to it. She didn't even notice that there was only one bed in the room.

After closing the door behind the bellhop, Max checked the lock and shoved the safety bolt home. When he turned and saw her his face softened.

"Here, love, let me help you. You're about to drop."

Erin stood, docile as a lamb, as he unfastened her slacks and pushed them and her ruined panty hose down over her hips. After seating her on the edge of the bed he dropped onto one knee, removed her shoes and carefully eased the torn slacks over her scraped knees and slipped them off.

Max felt a touch at his temple and looked up to find her watching him groggily.

"Mr. and Mrs. M.M. Pierce, huh?" she mumbled. "That was quick thinking." A lazy little chuckle drifted from her as she sifted her fingers through the hair at his temple and lightly traced his ear. "Or is it just that you've had lots of practice taking women to hotels and checking in under an alias?"

Her words were slurred and run together, and her eyelids were so heavy that she could barely keep them up. Max could tell that she was giddy with fatigue and didn't know what she was doing, but the gentle touch sent fire streaking through him. Even pale, scraped and so worn out that she had dark circles under her eyes, she looked adorable and sexy as hell, sitting there slumped in a tired little heap, wearing only her rumpled jacket and tank top and those tiny white bikini panties.

To his chagrin, he was discovering that exhaustion was not as hard on the libido as he had thought.

The smile he gave her held wistful regret. "Actually, it's not an alias. My full name is Maxwell Morgan Pierce Delany," he explained. "My mother's maiden name was Pierce."

"Maxwell Morgan, huh? I like it." She ran the back of her fingers over the stubble along his jaw; then her hand dropped limply into her lap. "I like you, too," she managed over a huge yawn.

Ignoring his body's yearnings, Max forced his gaze back to her injured knees. "I'd better clean these scrapes before infection sets in," he said, frowning as he picked out a tiny piece of embedded gravel.

"Don't bother," she told him drowsily. "I'm going to take a shower. I'll do it then." But even as she said the words her eyelids dropped and her head lolled forward. When her chin hit her chest she jerked it up and blinked, but almost at once her head began to sway again.

Max smiled. "Fine. But I'll get the worst of it first. Why don't you just lie back and relax for a minute while I go get a washcloth?"

He gave her shoulder a little nudge that sent her toppling, and Erin sighed as her back sank into the mattress. "Okay," she murmured. "Just for a minute."

Scant seconds later, when Max returned with a warm, wet cloth, she was sound asleep. He stopped beside the bed and looked down at her. He knew his expression was probably sappy as hell, but he couldn't help it; he'd never met a woman like Erin before.
She's such an exciting, vibrant creature
, Max mused.
Beautiful. Intelligent. Courageous. And she was fiercely loving and loyal to her sister. Would she give the same depth of devotion to a husband?
he wondered.

The thought produced a startled chuckle.
Whoa! Hold it, Delany. You've only known the woman twenty-four hours, for crying out loud. She's special, yeah, but it's a bit early to be thinking in those terms.
Yet, as he gazed down at her pale, tired face, he felt his chest tighten with a strange mixture of passion and tenderness.

With a sigh, he bent and carefully cleaned the scratch on her cheek and her scraped knees. When done, he turned back the covers, swung her legs up onto the bed and shifted her onto the clean sheets. About to turn the covers back over her, he hesitated, debating. Finally he swiftly stripped off her jacket and tank top and tossed them aside. He hesitated only a moment longer over the lacy bra before removing it also.

He stared down at her, his breathing growing shallow as he drank in the sight of lush breasts and exquisite slender curves. Jaw clenched, he closed his eyes. Then he pulled the sheet over her and tucked it under her chin.

Max shook his head. His eyes glinting with self-mocking amusement, he bent and placed a kiss on her sweetly parted lips. "Sleep well, sweetheart."

A sharp thwack on her behind awakened Erin. Almost.

"Haul that luscious body out of the sack, babe. It's quarter to six."

The second thwack drew a groan. Lifting her head an inch off the pillow, Erin opened her eyes partway. The first thing she saw was Max, sitting on the bed beside her. She buried her face back in the pillow and moaned, "Go away. I need sleep." Muffled by the cushion of down, the slurred protest was almost inaudible.

"Erin, wake up." This time he took her by the shoulders and turned her over, giving her a little shake. "You wanted to start after Elise today. Remember?"

Erin blinked and peered up at him. "What time is it?"

"Almost six."

"Already?" she grumbled. She started to sit up, but when the sheet began to slither down her naked breasts she made a grab for it and slid lower in the bed, her eyes widening.

Max grinned as he watched her tuck the cover under her arms. "I thought you'd sleep more comfortably without your clothes," he said in answer to her silent accusation.

Erin glanced around the room and then at the dented pillow beside her. She had slept in the same bed with Max, nearly nude. The thought created a strange quivering sensation in her lower belly. She told herself that she was being foolish. It had been a necessity, and anyway, all they'd done was sleep. Nothing had happened.

It didn't help.

"I see," she said, striving for nonchalance. "Well, I suppose you're right."

It hit her then that Max was wearing a fresh pair of jeans and a blue-and-brown plaid shirt. "Where did you get those clothes?" she asked, frowning.

"I sent the bellhop out for them after you conked out. I also had our clothes laundered, although I'm afraid your slacks are beyond repair. I don't know about you, but I'm starving, so I had room service send up some sandwiches. We can eat them while we drive." He gave her leg a pat and stood up. "As soon as you're ready we'll leave."

Max smelled of soap, and she noticed that his hair was damp and his bristly stubble was gone. The sight of him made her acutely aware of how grubby she was, and suddenly her need for a shower outweighed every other consideration, even sleep. "Just give me fifteen minutes," she said, pulling the sheet free and wrapping it around her as she climbed from the bed.

The water stung her knees and grazed palm, but Erin didn't care. She luxuriated in the feel of the hot, needling spray, the creamy lather sluicing down her body like warm, wet fingers. Even after she was thoroughly scrubbed and shampooed she stood there for a few minutes, soaking up the heat, letting the pulsing shower pound her weariness away.

When she finally stepped out she felt revitalized and deliriously clean.

Bandages and an antiseptic cream were laid out on the counter. Smiling at Max's thoughtfulness, she applied the medicine and dressing to her scraped knees and the cut on her arm.

She quickly dressed in a green scoop-necked T-shirt and a green linen wraparound skirt with a border print of seashells in varying shades of coral, then slipped her feet into flat coral sandals. It took only a few minutes longer to apply her usual minimal amount of makeup and dry and fluff her short curls.

When she emerged from the bathroom Max was on the phone. Erin assumed he was making arrangements for a rental car, and she went about gathering their things.

Their laundered clothes were on the dresser, along with a large department store bag. Peeking inside, Erin discovered that Max had purchased another change of clothes and a few basic toilet articles. She debated for a moment, then, with a shrug, added his things to her suitcase.

She found one of the scuffed yellow pumps she'd worn the day before and was down on her hands and knees searching under the bed for the other one when a snatch of Max's conversation registered.

"Look, Sam, I'll keep you informed. Okay?"

Erin jerked up onto her knees and stared at Max over the bed in shocked disbelief.

"Yes, I know you're concerned, but there's nothing you can do. Erin and I will find her. You just hold down the fort."

Erin scrambled to her feet and darted around the bed. She stood in front of Max and gestured wildly, her expression furious. "Max, are you crazy?" she hissed when he paid no attention.

He frowned and held up a hand to shush her. Erin clenched her fists at her sides and snorted in exasperation.

"Dammit, Sam, just who am I supposed to report it to?" he demanded in a sharp voice. "The driver couldn't remember whether Elise got off in Flagstaff or Las Vegas. And even if we knew, what would we tell the local police? We think she witnessed a crime, and we think she's running for her life? If they did believe us, the first thing they'd do is contact the Santa Fe police, and we sure as hell don't want that. Not until we know who on the force is involved."

"Oh, Lord," Erin groaned, pressing her palm to her forehead, "did you have to tell him everything?"

Ignoring her, Max listened to Sam's reply, then argued, "If we had reported the shooting to the San Francisco police, we would have had to tell them the whole story, and the same thing would have happened. Anyway, what could we tell them? Two guys in a dark blue Camaro tried to shoot us, and we don't know why or who they are? Hell, we'd probably still be at the station answering questions. The important thing now is to locate Elise."

Erin rolled her eyes and gave a long, despairing groan. "I can't believe you're doing this!" she raged in a low, tight voice. "I just can't!"

Her agitation was unmistakable, and Max cast her a puzzled frown while listening to his partner. "Yeah, sure. We'll be careful," he assured him. "And I'll call you when we know something definite." There was another pause, and with a sigh Max said, "Okay, okay. I'll call you tomorrow, regardless. Now I gotta go, Sam."

Erin pounced before he hung up the receiver. "Of all the stupid, crazy, thoughtless things to do! Have you forgotten already that we were nearly killed just a few hours ago?" she demanded furiously.

"No, I haven't forgotten. But what does that have to do with my calling Sam?"

Astonishment widened Erin's eyes, and she stared at him as though he had suddenly turned into a blithering, drooling idiot right before her. "You don't think it's just a bit coincidental that you called your partner last night and told him where we were going, and this morning two men show up outside the bus station and try to kill us?" she asked incredulously.

Understanding dawned on Max's face, and he looked at her in stunned silence. He sighed, and when he spoke both his tone and his expression were mildly reproving. "Erin, you're upset, and you have every right to be, but I know Sam, and I'm telling you, he's not behind this. I would stake my life on it. I swear."

"Fine! You do that!" she shouted, so incensed and frightened that she was shaking. "Just don't stake mine on it!"

Remotely, Erin knew the remark was low and uncalled for, but she was far too upset to heed the prickling of her conscience.

Max's head jerked back as though she had struck him, but as she watched, the brief flicker of hurt in his eyes vanished, pushed aside by a quiet, building anger.

He stood up. "I'm going to chalk up that remark to overwrought nerves," he said in a chilling voice. "But just in case you really think I'd play fast and loose with your life, let me remind you, lady, that I've done a damned good job of protecting you so far. As I recall, I saved your butt twice in the past twenty-four hours."

It was the truth, and she knew it, which infuriated her more. "And if you hadn't called your partner last night, this morning's heroics wouldn't have been necessary," she countered.

"That's a matter of opinion."

"Yes. Mine! And if you weren't such a blind fool—"

She stopped, suddenly aware of the shrill pitch of her voice and the growing anger in Max's face. Oh, Lord, what was she doing? Max had done nothing but help her. All through this madness he'd been a rock, the only person she could turn to, and here she was, shrieking at him and hurling useless accusations.

Erin's shoulders slumped. She cupped a hand to her forehead and waved the other one in front of her, palm out. "Oh, Max, I'm so sorry," she groaned. "You're right. I'm upset and worried, but I shouldn't be taking it out on you. Please... I'm sorry."

Max stared at her hard. For a moment she was afraid he wasn't going to accept her apology, but at last he relented. His chest heaved as he released a gusty sigh and raked a hand through his hair. "Oh, hell, I'm sorry, too. Look, I know you're under a lot of strain. We both are. But...well, I just don't understand why you're so certain that Sam is behind all this."

"Max, we know that it's got to be someone in your company," she said with as much patience as she could muster. "Sam is the obvious one, and after this morning, I don't know how you can doubt it. He's the only person who knew where we were going. At least, where you were going. You didn't mention my name when you talked to him—only you were going to San Francisco because Elise needed your help."