So This Is Love (23 page)

"If you had any ground-breaking news, you would have already told me. Anything else can wait. Right now, I think we should explore some of your ideas back at my apartment." He held out his hand and pulled her to her feet. "Let's have some fun, Emma."

"Sounds good to me. But this time, I get to be on top."

"You can be anywhere you want to be."

Chapter Seventeen

Max's bedroom was as barren as the rest of his apartment. He had a king-size bed and two nightstands, but there was no other furniture in the room and the open closet door revealed several unopened boxes on the floor. Was San Francisco just a pit stop for him? Would he return to his other life as soon as his brother was back on his feet? She'd told him she was okay with no promises, but was she?

"Second thoughts?" Max asked, reading her mind. "You can go home, Emma."

"I know."

"I don't want to hurt you."

She wondered about that. "Are you sure it's me you're worried about hurting? Maybe it's you. Maybe you're the one who's afraid you'll get hurt. That's why you don't make promises and don't have relationships."

"I think if someone could hurt me, it could very well be you."

"That's not the nicest compliment I've ever gotten, but I appreciate the sentiment."

"I'm not good at the smooth talk. In fact, I'm not really good at talking at all."

"I've noticed."

"This was supposed to be about fun, Emma, so…"

"So let's have some fun," she said, pushing aside her momentary doubt.

He crossed the room, stopping just inches away from her. She caught her breath, anticipation already building.

"I have to say, Max, that you look really good to me right now, so what's going to happen next is not my fault. It's really yours. You're kind of irresistible."

He smiled. "And you think these beautiful lips are completely blameless for what's about to happen next?" He slid his finger along the edge of her upper lip.

The tender caress sent a jolt of electricity through her body. She opened her mouth and sucked in the tip of his finger. Desire filled his eyes.

He pulled his finger out of her mouth and framed her face with his hands. For a long minute he just looked at her as if she were the most beautiful woman in the world. Her breath came short and fast. Her heart thudded against her chest, and her blood ran hot through her veins. She'd never felt a want so keen, so needy, and all he was doing was looking at her.

Fear suddenly gripped her.

Max wasn't going to just take her body he was also going to take her heart—if she let him. How could she let him? How could she take that risk?

How could she not?

His thumbs caressed her cheeks. Then he lowered his head ever so slowly and kissed her with tenderness and caring that only made her more afraid. She could handle the hot sex. She wanted the physical release. But this emotional pull was almost too much to handle.

"What are we doing?" she murmured.

He shook his head, his gaze never leaving her face. "I don't know. Do you?"

She shook her head, her throat tightening with emotion as he kissed her again, sending another wave of heat through her body. His hands moved from her face to her shoulders, then down her arms, to her hands. His fingers entwined with hers. And then he brought one hand to his mouth and kissed her knuckles. He did the same to the other hand.

They stood together fully dressed, inches apart, holding hands and looking into each other's eyes, and it was quite possibly the most sensual moment she'd ever experienced.

The air crackled with tension and desire. She'd wanted to be in charge, to take the lead, but she couldn't seem to move. It was as if Max had cast some sort of spell over her, and all she could do was cling to him. But she wanted to do more than hold his hand. This might be their only night together. She would make the most of it.

She drew in a breath and pulled her hands away from his. Then she stepped back and pulled her shirt up and over her head. Her bra quickly followed along with her jeans and thong. When she was completely naked, she went to work on Max's clothes, helping him off with his shirt and jeans. And then she pushed him back onto the bed.

For a moment, she let herself look, let herself enjoy the hard planes of his body, the broad chest, lean muscles, narrow hips, and really appealing arousal.

She got on to the bed and straddled his hips.

Max's hands cupped and kneaded her breasts. He didn't seem at all bothered by being on the bottom.

She leaned over and kissed his mouth, then ran her tongue across his jawline. She dropped down to his chest, anointing each spiked nipple with a kiss and then moving lower. She took him into her mouth, licking, and sucking, enjoying his groans of pleasure, wanting to give him everything he had given her earlier and more. She had him at her mercy and she would have her way with him. She could feel him trying to hold on to his iron clad control, but she wanted him to let go. She would take nothing less. And finally he gave her everything.

Several minutes later, she rolled on to her side and let out a breath. She saw Max's satisfied expression and smiled. "See how good things can be when you let me take charge."

"You can take charge any time you want—as long as we're in the bedroom."

"Hey, no disclaimers allowed."

He turned on to his side and smiled at her. "Now it's your turn." He pushed her down against the mattress.

"You don’t need a minute?" she asked. "Oh, I guess not, she added as he moved on top of her. "Impressive."

"I'll show you impressive," he said, and then he proceeded to do just that.

* * *

Hours later, Emma woke up and glanced at the clock next to the bed. It was one o'clock in the morning. She knew she should go home. But with her head on Max's chest and his arm around her waist, she felt too comfortable to move.

"Stay," he said sleepily.

"Really?" she asked, unable to keep the doubt from her voice. The morning after this incredible night was going to be hard enough to deal with without adding in waking up together. On the other hand, why not steal a few more hours with Max? It might be all they had.

That thought depressed her. She told herself to get over it. She'd gone into this night with her eyes wide open. She would not regret it.

"If you want to stay," Max added.

She lifted her head to look at him. He opened his eyes, his gaze questioning.

"Is it okay with you? This is just a one night thing, so…"

"So it's still night," he reminded her with a sleepy smile.

"That's true. But tomorrow we have to work together."

"I'm not thinking about work right now."

"Me, either. You know, you're really quite something when you let yourself go."

His eyes sparkled as his gaze met hers. "Likewise, Emma." He paused, a knowing gleam in his eyes. "What do you want to ask me?"

"Who said I wanted to ask you anything?"

"I can see it in your eyes."

He was starting to read her a little too well, which was exciting and scary.

The question in her head was not one she wanted to put into words. Max might not answer it the way she wanted. Better not to ask. She put her head down on his chest and snuggled against him. She felt content and protected within his embrace. She was an independent woman and used to taking care of herself, but it felt nice to be with someone who was as strong, if not stronger, than she was.

"Emma," he said.

"Yes."

"You were really good, the best ever."

A tingle ran down her spine, not only because of the compliment, but because he'd read her mind. "I knew it," she said happily.

He laughed. "Go to sleep."

She closed her eyes and let the steady beat of his heart lull her to sleep.

* * *

Max woke up expecting to see Emma in his bed, but she was gone. He glanced at the clock. It was only seven-thirty, but his apartment was very quiet. He got up, grabbed his robe and used the bathroom, then made his way into the kitchen. The smell of coffee told him Emma hadn't been gone long.

He walked over to the coffeemaker and saw a note scribbled on a coffee filter.

Last night was great. Let's talk about the case later. Em
.

He frowned. It was a little strange that Emma had taken off without saying goodbye. That was usually his move.

Shaking his head, he told himself to be happy she'd left. Now he didn't have to make awkward small talk. He could have his coffee, read the paper, and get ready for work, which was exactly what he was going to do.

Unfortunately, thoughts of Emma filled his morning routine. He turned the shower to ice cold but that didn't help much. As he dressed for work, he remembered Emma's hands on him, her fingers touching his hot skin.

Damn!
He threw on the rest of his clothes and headed out the door. He needed to focus on his job and stop thinking about Emma. He tried to tell himself that having had sex would lessen the tension between them. They'd given in to their attraction and gotten that out of the way. But that was one big, fat lie. They'd made love three times, and he wanted three hundred more times or three thousand more times. But that would take more than a night, and the idea of a lifetime was far too terrifying to contemplate.

When he got to his office, he was surprised to find Ruth Harbough waiting for him. She was sitting in the waiting room, clutching her big black handbag with both hands, and looking very nervous. She got to her feet when she saw him.

"What can I do for you Mrs. Harbough?" he asked.

"I was hoping you could help me. We're having the service for Margaret tomorrow night, and it will be an open casket. I would like to bury her with the rosary that she always carried. You said it was in her pocket when you found her body."

"That's part of the evidence I'm afraid," he said slowly.

"There's no way you can release it? It's very important."

"I'm sorry, but I can't. Not at this time."

"Well, another time will be too late, won't it?" she said tartly.

"I am sorry," he repeated. It went against procedure to release the evidence in an ongoing investigation.

"I don't understand. Were there fingerprints on it? Was there blood? How could it possibly be important?"

"I really can't say, but I want to assure you that I'm doing everything I can to find out what happened to Margaret. And I can't jeopardize our case in any way."

Her lips tightened. "All right. I also came to tell you that I reviewed the school files you were asking about the other day. Emma mentioned a fire in the dumpster about fifteen years ago. It was set by Jarod Moretti."

His nerves tightened. "Are you sure?"

"Positive. He was suspended for a week, and there was talk of expulsion, but Jarod had recently lost his mother, and his poor behavior was believed to be due to grief. He hadn't been in trouble before that, so after the suspension he came back to school. There were no other behavioral problems during his time there."

"That's odd," he said. "Because we spoke to Tony Moretti, and he said he thought it was Christian Brady who started that fire."

"It wasn't."

"Wouldn't Tony know if his brother was suspended?"

"As they are twins, I believe so. Perhaps his memory is faulty. Tony was in trouble many times during his years at St. Andrew's. It would have been easier to believe that he set the fire than his brother, Jarod."

"Maybe Jarod covered for him."

"I suppose that's possible. If you'll excuse me now, I need to get to work."

"Thanks for the information," he said.

As Ruth left, he walked to his desk, his mind wrestling with the implications. Had Jarod covered for Tony? Was that why Tony had tried to blame Christian for the fire?

He needed to talk to both Morettis and he was fairly sure Emma would want to be there when he did.

* * *

"It was Jarod who set the fire in the dumpster?" Emma repeated, her hand tightening on the phone as she thought about what Max had just told her.

"Yes. I want to talk to both of them, and I assume you do, too. So I'm keeping you in the loop."

"I appreciate that." She felt a little foolish now that her heart had skipped a beat when she'd first seen Max's name pop up on her phone. She'd thought that he was calling to say something personal, maybe talk about how wonderful the night had been, but he was all business, no mention of the time they'd spent together.

She should be happy that he was keeping things professional. One of the reasons she'd left his apartment early had been to avoid any awkward conversation where Max might feel compelled to say something that he didn't mean just to be polite. Or worse, that she might say something that would lead him to believe she wanted more than a one-night stand.

"Emma?"

Max's sharp voice brought her attention back to the conversation at hand. "What?"

"Do you want to go with me?"

"Yes, of course. Let's start with Jarod. I'll call him and see if I can track him down without raising suspicion. I'd rather catch him off guard. Make it sound friendly."

"Agreed. We might as well use your long-term friendship with the Morettis to our advantage."

She frowned at that suggestion. She did not like to
use
her friends. But she had a case to solve and right now the Morettis were the best lead she had.

"I'll get back to you as soon as I reach Jarod," she said.

"All right. That sounds good."

"Good," she echoed, reluctant to end the call.

"Is there something else, Emma?"

"No. I just—" She couldn't find the words to express what she wanted to say, because she didn't know what she wanted to say.

"You didn't have to run out this morning," he said, as the silence between them lengthened. "I would have made you breakfast."

"With what? You had very little in your refrigerator."

"Then I would have taken you out for breakfast."

"I wanted to get an early start on the day."

"That's not why you left. Why don't you tell me the real reason?"

"I thought you were the man who didn't like to talk about sex."