Without a Net (11 page)

She caught her breath.
The feeling of unbearable fullness started to ease. “Yes.”

“Want me to stop?”

“Don’t you dare.”

Her response seemed to release whatever self-imposed restraints he had left.
He picked up speed, and it was all she could do to hang on, wrapping her legs around his waist as he pounded into her, carrying them both toward a shattering climax.

It was the light that woke him.

Early morning sun slanted through the vertical blinds that they never got around to closing after migrating from couch to bedroom.
Max glanced around, noticing details that had escaped his attention yesterday. Like the utilitarian décor of the room, and the absence of any personal mementos gracing the walls and furniture. In contrast to the living room, which felt warm and homey, this room had a sterile, rarely used air to it.

He recalled Eva’s hesitation when she’d led him upstairs.
Well, now he knew why. This wasn’t the master bedroom, which she’d presumably shared with her husband and likely still slept in by herself. This was a guest room, and in the cold clear light of morning, he was starting to feel like an unwanted guest.

From below, he could he hear the murmur of voices, and the clatter of dishes.
Was her son home?
Shit.
He’d definitely outstayed his welcome. So much for his usual
‘Thanks, it’s been fun. See ya!’
routine.

He scrambled out from betwe
en the white sheets, cursing his stiff knee, and fumbled for his clothes. Thank God Eva had had the foresight to grab them on their way up last night. A quick trip to the en suite, where he made use of the sample size toiletries he found on the counter, and Max was ready to face whatever the day held in store.

As he descended the stairs, the conversation coalesced into a single male voice.

“In other news, Harry Blackwell’s ex-wife, Grace King, broke her silence on Saturday, saying she was saddened by his recent suicide.”

Eva stood with her back to him, unloading the dishwasher.
Her hair was once again up in a casual twist, a few straggling wisps trailing down her neck. She rose on bare toes to reach a high shelf, and her tank top rode up, revealing a strip of smooth skin above the waistband of her jeans.

Max paused on the bottom step to give his arousal a chance to subside.
Apparently the tousled Sunday morning look was as much of a turn-on for him as the Saturday night siren ensemble. Surprising, and a bit disconcerting, that all the vigorous activity they’d enjoyed into the wee morning hours hadn’t diminished his desire for her. If anything, he wanted her even more now that he knew what lay beneath the clothes.

Oh, man. He was definitely in trouble.

He took a deep breath, inhaling the aroma of fresh coffee. A quick glance around revealed they were alone. In the background, the CNN announcer droned on.

“Blackwell, the son of disgraced financier William Blackwell, hanged himself last week in the couple’s Manhattan apartment, six months after his father’s arrest for allegedly cheating thousands of investors in what has been dubbed the biggest Ponzi scheme since Bernard Madoff.

“Federal investigators are still trying to determine whether Harry Blackwell took part in or knew of the fraud.
Efforts to recover stolen funds continue, with court-appointed trustee Oscar Chaiken filing lawsuits against dozens of ‘feeder funds’ and other investors in the now defunct Blackwell Securities LLC.

“Attorney and spokesman for the family, Sherman Young, released a statement denying any wrongdoing on the part of Harry Blackwell, and asking that the family be allowed to mourn his death in private.”

Eva muttered something disparaging under her breath.

Max grinned.
“Morning, sunshine.”

She shrieked, and he barely managed to rescue the glass in her hand from crashing to the floor.
“You should warn someone when you’re sneaking up on them!”

He set the glass down on the counter and caught her around the waist. “What’s the fun in that?”

She pushed against his chest. “Want some coffee?”

“Sure.
But first…” He leaned down, capturing her mouth in a slow, thorough kiss. Her resistance lasted all of two seconds, and then she was melting in his arms, stroking her thumb across his bristly jaw, spearing her fingers through his hair.

He went from half-mast to fully erect, pressing against her stomach, cupping her buttocks and lifting.

“Wait.” She pulled back, insinuating a hand between them to keep him from reclaiming her lips.
“I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“I have to pick up Ben from my parents.”

That dampened his ardor, but not sufficiently to release her.
Maybe there was still time for a quickie. “When do you need to be there?”

“Nine at the latest.”

He glanced at the clock. “It’s only eight-fifteen. Plenty of time.”

“No.” She pushed harder.
“Please, Max. I’ll pour you some coffee. And then you need to go.”

Okay, so she wanted him out.
She didn’t have to clobber him over the head with it. He backed off, leaning against the counter while she filled a mug.

“Milk?”

“Black, thanks.” He accepted the cup. “You’re not having any?”

“Already did.” She hesitated.
“There’s some cereal, if you want.”

He smiled, relaxing now that he understood the problem.
She clearly wasn’t used to having overnight guests. Well, he wasn’t that familiar with morning-after scenarios either. They’d muddle through together. At least her innate politeness kept her from simply ushering him out the door. She was even offering to make him breakfast. Sort of.

He was tempted to see just how far her hospitality would go.
Then again, maybe he shouldn’t push his luck. “I’ll pass, thanks.”

She went back to putting away the dishes.
“I signed you up for the NetGalley co-op.”

“
What?” It took a moment for his brain to switch gears. “Oh. Right. That was quick. When did you get the chance?”

“I’m an early riser.” She slanted him a look.

So was he, most of the time. Except when he was otherwise occupied through much of the night.
Then
he liked to sleep in.

“The website should be ready for a
final walk-through by Wednesday,” she continued. “Let me know when we can meet so you can review it.”

“How about
Wednesday morning, after you drop Ben off from school?”

S
he closed the dishwasher door. “Don’t you have to check your calendar first?”

“I’m off from work, remember?”
Technically, he still had some medical-legal work that he’d picked up. A few files to review and comment on. Nothing that required him to be available at any specific time. The blog posts Eva asked him to write were ready. And plotting out the new book was something he could do at leisure. So until he was back in the ER in mid-June, his time was pretty much his own.

“Right.”
She turned off the coffeemaker and looked at the clock.

He could take a hint.
Setting down the mug, he dropped a light kiss on her lips. “I’ll call you.”

Eva spent the first half of the day shuttling Ben from one activity to the next:
karate class, birthday party, belt test. At the park, while Ben and his friends navigated through an inflatable obstacle course and hunted up hidden treasure, Eva squeezed in some work on her laptop. One by one, she ticked off items on her to do list. Proof the design of bookmarks and promotional book cards before submitting the final order. Order gift cards to raffle off during the book launch. Email thank-you’s to bloggers who had already responded with reviews.

Ten minutes before pick-up time, Nina stopped by the picnic table where Eva had spread out.
“I didn’t see you earlier, thought you and Ben decided to bag the party.”

“We got here a little late.
Had to change out of the
gi
into civvies.” She saved her open files and shut down the computer. “Missed you at karate this morning.”

“I have an open house this afternoon, had to get some last-minute things done.
And Paul’s preparing for a trial. You know how he gets. Physically present, but completely unavailable.”

“Why didn’t you call me?
I could’ve taken Connor with us.”

Nina glanced sideways at her.
“I didn’t want to intrude.”

“What are you talking about?
We’re always carpooling. You drop off, I pick up, and vice versa.”

“I thought you might be busy.”

Eva blinked. Max must have mentioned something to his sister. Before, or after? And what exactly did he say? Damn. She chewed her lip, trying to figure out how to respond.

From the moment she and Nina met in a new moms support group, they’d become fast friends.
Their sons were practically inseparable. But there were some things you didn’t confide even to your closest friend. Like the fact that you were boffing her brother.

She would have thought Max understood the rules, though they had never explicitly discussed them.
Rule number one: whatever happened between them was private. As in, not to be shared with friends, family, or anyone else.

The very thought of her son finding out, even indirectly, filled her with dread.
Ben hadn’t been privy to the difficulties she and Roger had had toward the end. Eva was very careful to keep all the tawdry details hidden from him, just as she had from her parents. She didn’t want Ben to think badly of his father, especially now that Roger was gone. Hard enough to lose a parent so young; no need to burden him with all the other baggage too.

They had only recently stopped seeing the grief counselor recommended by the hospice.
She didn’t want to undo all the progress Ben had made during those sessions by introducing too many changes at once. She still hadn’t told him about the impending sale of their house. She wanted to wait until she had a rental lined up before announcing that they would be moving. As long as they could stay in the same school district, allowing Ben to remain in a familiar environment and maintain the same friendships, Eva hoped the disruption would be minimal.

Max, however, was a complication Eva hadn’t anticipated.
She needed to figure out how to handle him, while avoiding the pitfalls inherent in re-entering the dating pool as a single parent.

Her biggest worry was the possible impact her relationship with Max would have on her son.
Ben might feel threatened and resentful of a third person intruding into their cozy family of two. Or worse, he might develop some kind of long-term expectations on the basis of what was bound to be a very short-term, purely physical relationship.

Double damn.
She needed to do some damage control, and fast.

“I’m never too busy for you or Connor,” she said, falling back on a technique she’d used often enough with Ben.
Avoid and distract.
“So next time, call me, okay?”

Nina, bless her, didn’t press.
After a momentary hesitation, she nodded. “Thanks. We’ll see you tomorrow at the barbecue?”

She’d almost forgotten.
It was Memorial Day weekend, and Nina was hosting her annual backyard party. What were the odds that Max wouldn’t be there?

So much for avoidance.

Eva forced a smile.
“Right. I’m bringing the brownies.”

###

She glanced around the backyard. There he was, all six feet one inch of wind-tousled, blond haired, chiseled masculinity, wielding a long spatula at the massive outdoor grill.

Eva felt her heart stutter.
She was an idiot. A coward. She should have picked up the phone yesterday and called him, hashed out the terms. Instead, she’d taken Ben biking, and then buried herself in work until well past midnight.

Ben shouted a greeting to his friend Connor and rushed off.
Okay, that would keep him occupied for a while. Enough time for her to deposit the platter of brownies on a nearby buffet table, skirt the paved flagstone terrace where Max was holding court, and find a convenient hiding place.

Nina intercepted her, dragging her from group to group, introducing her around.
There were other moms from school, neighbors with whom Eva had a passing acquaintance, colleagues of Nina’s husband.

This was Eva’s first large social gathering since Roger’s death.
Nina was clearly trying to smooth the waters, maybe even drum up some business for her.

“Eva’s a graphic designer,” Nina said by way of introduction.
“She’s incredibly talented. Does amazing web design and marketing.”

Nina’s words washed over her.
Eva smiled automatically, shook hands, dug out a few business cards when prompted. Under ordinary circumstances, she would have appreciated her friend’s efforts.

Today, though, Eva could have done with a little anonymity.

At some point, she thought she felt Max’s gaze on her. Glancing back, she saw that he was chatting with a skinny blonde in too-tight shorts and mile-high heels. The woman laughed and leaned forward to pat him on the arm. Eva clutched her drink tighter and turned back to her own conversation, just in time to smile at the appropriate moment, and shake hands with yet another freshly arrived guest.

By the time she managed to escape Nina’s enthusiastic clutches, Max was no longer at his station by the barbecue.
Eva felt a tinge of panic. Not knowing where he was seemed almost worse than having him on her radar.

She wandered around the perimeter of the yard, keeping an eye out for broad shoulders and sun-bleached hair, smiling vaguely at the people she encountered but not pausing for even a brief
exchange of words. Along the way, she noted Ben and Connor and a couple other boys engaged in some game that seemed to involved lots of running, whooping, and water pistols. Reassured, she continued her rambling walk.

Maybe Max had sensed her anxiety and, interpreting it correctly, decided to slip out early.
Or maybe she had an exaggerated sense of her own importance. For all she knew, he was enjoying a previously scheduled—or worse, spur-of-the-moment—tryst with some big-breasted bimbo who didn’t know that high heels and backyards didn’t mix.

Eva drained her cup and crushed it, dumping it in the garbage.
Nothing had been said about exclusivity or monogamy or whatever the hell the current term was. Maybe now that they’d slept together, Max was no longer interested in seeing her, outside of the work Eva was doing for his book.

She made her way through the open terrace doors, into the cool dimness of the dining room.
Several women in caterer’s whites were milling about in the kitchen beyond.

Eva turned into the hallway that led to the guest powder room.
She used the facilities, and took her time washing and carefully drying her hands. A few strands of hair had come loose, so she redid her pony tail, smoothing every strand back in place.

She opened the door, and there he was, leaning against the opposite wall.
He wore a different shirt than before, this one tighter fitting, emphasizing the definition of his pecs, the rippling muscles of his shoulders and upper arms.

He smiled.
“Hey.”

“I thought you’d left.”

“Without saying hello? Nah.” He gestured toward the stairs leading up. “Had to change. Got grease splatter on my other shirt.”

She followed the movement of his large hand smoothing this new borrowed shirt and tucking it into his jeans.
Her fingers itched to trace the same path down the sculpted abs, past the waistband, beneath the fly that even now seemed to twitch beneath her gaze.

“If you keep looking at me like that, I’m going to have to pull you into one of these rooms.”

“What?” She blinked, twin spots of color blooming in her cheeks. “Sorry.”

What was it she’d wanted to say to him?
Her thoughts scattered as his hand closed around her upper arm. He tugged her down the hall, through the first half-open door.

“What are you doing?
We can’t just—”

“It’s okay,” he said. “This is the guestroom.
No one will look for us here.”

He shut the door, locked it, and pushed her up against the wall, his body crowding hers.
She barely had time to draw a breath before his mouth descended, hungry, insistent, teeth nipping, tongue demanding entrance.

If spontaneous human combustion was possible, this must be what it felt like.
Everywhere he touched, she burned. Her cheek, her throat, the line of her collarbone. When he palmed her breast through the cotton T-shirt, plucking at the nipple, she melted.

He pressed a knee between her legs, leaning in until she was riding his thigh, the friction almost unbearable.
His erection throbbed against her lower belly, and she wiggled, or tried to, but the pressure of his body on hers limited the movement.

On the heels of all her anxiety and self-doubt, the force of his passion came as a welcome relief.
Whoever the woman was whom he’d been chatting with earlier didn’t matter. And neither did all the past girlfriends he’d had, or the future ones he would acquire. The only thing that mattered now, at this very moment, was the wild, uncontrollable hunger that raged between them.

His heart pounded double-time beneath her hand.
She skimmed her palm down his chest, around his ribs and lean waist to the small of his back, tugging up the shirt he’d so recently tucked in. Easing her fingers between his warm skin and the layers of clothing, she raked her nails lightly over the hard masculine buttocks, then slid forward, around his hip, until her thumb reached his straining erection. It jerked against her, hardening even more. She stroked down, catching the drop of fluid that seeped from the very tip and rubbing it slowly into the thick shaft above.

He shuddered and pinched her nipple, drawing a moan from her.
With his free hand, he encircled her wrist and pulled up, forcing her to release him. Depositing her hand safely back on his shoulder, he returned to exploring her curves. Fingers glided over her waist and hip, along her outer thigh, and then up again to the juncture of legs, where they paused briefly to press against the seam of her jeans.

“Too many layers,” he growled, undoing the button and zipper of her jeans, then stepping back to remove them completely.
Panties and shoes followed. “That’s better.”

“Not fair,” she said.
“You’re still dressed.”

“Right.”
He made short work of his own jeans, and then backed her against the wall. Knees bent just enough to align his pelvis with hers, he grasped her bare thighs and lifted, sealing her mouth with his and spearing her with one smooth thrust.

She clung to his shoulders for support, barely able to catch her breath as he withdrew and surged forward, again and again, and just when she thought she couldn’t bear any more, he pulled back, leaving her empty.

No,
she wanted to cry, except his tongue was in her mouth, preventing her from making a sound.

And then he was back, only this time it was his thumb dipping into her wetness and spreading it across her clit, rubbing it in, and she quivered, hovering on the brink, until he plunged back into her, and the dual stimulation tipped her over the edge.

She was still convulsing around him when she felt him groan and spill himself inside her.

Oh, God.

His hands tightened on her before slowly letting her down.
“I missed you.”

She closed her eyes and dropped her head back against the wall.
“We didn’t use anything.”

He didn’t even pretend to misunderstand.
“It’s okay, I’m clean.”

“How do you know?”

“I get tested regularly. And I haven’t been with anyone since before the accident.” He paused. “Last time I forgot to use a condom, I was sixteen. Scared the bejeezus out of me.”

She pulled
away from him and bent to collect her clothes.

Max watched
her wiggle into her jeans. “You’re not on the pill?”