Colorado 01 The Gamble (15 page)

On the second ring, Max’s head came up and
he stopped our movement.

“Don’t.” It sounded like a plea and it was
coming from my mouth

“I’ve gotta, Duchess.” His voice was still
rough and he sounded like he didn’t want to but when his arm left
my waist and his palm touched my cheek, I opened my eyes and saw in
his face that I was right, he didn’t want to but he had to. “Don’t
lose that look,” he ordered, bent forward, kissed my forehead then
let me go and with long strides, walked to the phone on top of the
roll top.

I watched him go and listened to him answer
with a, “Yeah?”

I shook my head trying to clear it but I
could still feel his arms around me; his lips on mine; his tongue
in my mouth; his soft, thick hair under my hands; his hard body
against mine and I wanted it back. I couldn’t shake off that
feeling of want even though I tried. It was like it was born in me,
natural, everything I was or everything I was meant to be and there
was no way to get rid of it.

“Now?” Max asked, sounding incredulous and a
bit annoyed but also sounding like he was trying to hide both.
“Okay, yeah, calm down. I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.” I stared
at him as his eyes sliced to me, his face wasn’t soft with desire
like it had been five seconds ago, it was tight and impatient.
“Yeah, I said I’d take care of this, I’ll take care of it.” Another
pause and he didn’t unlock his eyes from mine before he said
softly, “Don’t worry, I’ll be there. Fifteen.”

Then he hit the button for off, it beeped
and I felt my body twitch at the sound. Sanity was returning but
Max was right in front of me, impeding its progress.

“I gotta go.”

I just nodded.

“I don’t know when I’ll be back.”

I nodded again.

“Duchess, you with me?”

“Yes,” I whispered.

“I’m takin’ your car keys with me,” he
announced.

“Okay,” I replied instantly.

His hands came to either side of my head and
he tipped it back as he got closer. I saw his face was back to soft
and he looked almost relieved.

“I made my point, didn’t I?”

Oh, he made his point.

“Yes,” I whispered again.

“We’ll finish when I get home.”

I didn’t answer. I didn’t know what he
meant, finish talking or finish making our way to the couch so I
could act like an even bigger idiot and behave like a screaming
bitch besides.

“Nina?”

“It sounds like something important.”

“It is or there’s no fuckin’ way I’d go.”
His hands at my head brought me closer and he finished, “I’ll
explain later.”

“You better get going,” I told him.

I felt one of his hands come down to my neck
then his thumb slid along my jaw.

“Be good,” he whispered.

“I’ll try,” I whispered back, his eyes moved
over my face then he bent his neck, touched his mouth to mine,
giving me an exquisite, sweet, light kiss that was much like his
forehead kiss except a whole lot better and let me go.

I watched him go to the closet, he
disappeared behind the door, came out, shrugging on a canvas coat,
his eyes came to me and he ordered, “Stay awake.”

“Okay.”

He lifted his chin and then he walked out
the door.

I wandered to the computer even though I
wanted to watch him leave, I didn’t want him to see me
watching.

I pulled the chair up to the roll top then I
sat down and clicked into the internet browser in order to access
my webmail.

I heard the Cherokee depart as I typed in
the web address then my username and password. I heard silence when
I clicked on “compose” and more silence as I typed in Niles’s
e-mail address.

Then I spent the next two hours writing to
my fiancé explaining, in detail, what a timeout meant; what it
meant that he didn’t know how I took my coffee; what it meant that
he didn’t understand how much it hurt when he asked me to sell
Charlie’s house; how lonely I was, even when I was with him; how it
felt, him not making love to me, being affectionate, making me feel
desired or desirable; how much it bothered me that, even though I’d
talked to him about all of this, even wrote him other e-mails, it
didn’t ever seem to penetrate; and lastly, the part that took the
most time, how it wasn’t going to work out between us. Then I told
him I’d call him in a few days and we would talk. Then I read it,
edited it, read it again, added more, read it again, changed a few
things, then I hit send.

It disappeared and I stared at the screen
showing a list of my e-mails.

Well done, sweetheart,
Charlie whispered in my
ear.

He sounded sad but proud.

I started crying.

Charlie

I opened my eyes, blinked at the bright
sunlight and smelled bacon cooking.

I was alone in Max’s bed. Max, evidently,
was downstairs cooking breakfast.

I rolled to my back and stared at the point
in the A-Frame ceiling.

After sending my e-mail to Niles and crying
my eyes out – so much, I had to move to the chair by the couch,
curl in it holding a toss pillow to my chest in order to give
myself a comfortable cocoon while letting go a part of my life that
was once important to me, in fact I thought it was going to be my
entire future but I’d figured out wasn’t so important anymore – I
cleaned up my face. Then I threw another log on the fire. Then I
stared at the log burning, trying to sort out my head. Then I
failed at sorting out my head. Then when it got late, I made dinner
for one and ate cookies for dessert. Then I read until it got
later. Then when it got really late, I changed into my nightgown,
put in a movie, slid into bed and, again, obviously, fell asleep
while watching it.

Now, clearly, it was morning and Max was
home.

And he said when he came home, we would
finish.

And as I lay there, staring at the ceiling,
I decided I was going to have to figure out a way to tell him I
wasn’t ready for us to finish in whatever way that would come. I
wasn’t ready for what was happening in his A-Frame on my Colorado
adventure. I wasn’t ready to explore what was going on between him
and me.

I wanted to, honest to goodness, I wanted it
so badly it felt like an ache.

But I was coming to terms with my life
changing in one way. In fact, I had realized the day before as I
stared at Max’s fire, I knew before I even took this timeout that
Niles and I were never going to work and I realized that I’d known
that for a long time. I’d either fallen out of love with him or
he’d bored the love out of me. But before I even left I had
understood somewhere in head that I simply needed distance to come
to that conclusion and that distance would give me the courage to
carry it through.

Therefore, I couldn’t process, nor did I
want to, the colossal shift back to Nina of Old. Nina who opened
her heart, let loose, took adventures and even more risks. Nina who
did that and got her heart trampled and her head messed with for
her troubles.

I wasn’t sure I wanted to play it safe and
be smart, sane and rational every second with every nuance of my
life.

I
was
sure I’d learned my lessons way back when and I wasn’t
going back to
that
.

I couldn’t live the life that I was living
with Niles, I’d come to terms with that.

And I couldn’t go back to who I used to be.
Heartbreak lay down that road, heck, it was paved with it.

And Holden Maxwell had heartbreak written
all over him.

I pulled myself out of bed, went to the
bathroom, did my routine and then, deciding on propriety in the
face of our impending conversation, I walked to my suitcase and dug
around until I found my wool robe. It was like a big, long,
button-less, cardigan sweater that went down to my calves. It was
creamy green and had a hood. It cost a fortune and it was
lush
.

I shrugged it on, belted it up and headed
downstairs to face Max. I hit the bottom, saw him in the kitchen
and stopped dead.

His back was to me and he was wearing pajama
bottoms and nothing else. His shoulders, the muscles of his back,
the wide expanse of smooth, tan skin, was all exposed to the naked
eye and I was blinded by the beauty of it. So much, it was a wonder
I didn’t throw out my hand and go reeling.

At that thought, he turned and gave me a
view of his chest.

At this view, arguably better than his back,
I sucked in breath then whispered to myself, “Oh my God.”

“Hey baby,” he called, apparently (and
luckily) not hearing me and headed my way.

I stood immobile as he walked to me.

He stopped in front of me, his head tipped
down and his hand came to my jaw, tipping my head up.

“You sleep okay?” he asked softly and I
nodded. “Wake up at nine o’clock your time?” he went on and I shook
my head. “Sorry I was out so late.” I shrugged and he grinned. “I
see I got Nina Zombie.”

“Um…” I muttered.

He shook his head once still grinning then
dipped his face and touched his mouth to mine. My toes curled.

“Look after the bacon, will you?” he said
when he lifted his head. “I’m gonna go put on some clothes.”

“Okay,” I whispered.

“Might be good you get some coffee in you
before you get near sizzling bacon grease,” he advised, still
amused.

“Okay,” I repeated on a whisper.

“God,” he muttered, his thumb drifting
across my cheek, his clear, gray eyes watching it go, “you’re
cute.”

I swallowed. He let me go and walked
away.

I stood where he left me and realized that I
was, officially, in trouble. If I couldn’t function at the sight of
his chest, how was I going to tell him we weren’t going to explore
what was happening?

Especially if he kept touching me and
calling me “baby”?

I pulled myself together enough to take one
step when the door under the loft opened, my body jerked in
surprise and I gave out a small scream.

A girl walked out, a woman-girl, like Becca.
Wild, curly, almost frizzy strawberry blonde hair and a lot of it.
Cute as a button face. Cornflower blue eyes. Long, thin, shapely
legs that went on forever.

And last, but oh so definitely not least,
she was wearing the shirt Max wore yesterday.

I felt like I’d been punched in the gut.

“Forgot to tell you,” Max called from
upstairs, probably because he heard my scream, “Mindy’s here.”

“
Hi!” Mindy cried brightly and skipped to
me, actually
skipped.
“You’re
Nina, right?”

“Right,” I said, immobile again, this time
for a different reason.

“Cool!” she cried, grabbing my arm in one
hand, my hand in the other, both with a friendliness that was
unreal and she jumped up and down twice.

“I, um… need to look after the bacon,” I
told her.

“Oh, sure,” she said, looking suddenly
confused at my behavior in the face of her outgoingness.

“Nina’s a zombie in the morning, Mins,” Max
called and I knew he could hear everything. “Maybe you should look
after the bacon, darlin’.”

Mins?
Darlin’?

“Cool!” she cried again as if looking after
bacon was her heart’s desire, her hands moving from me. “I can do
that.”

Then she turned and part skipped, part slid
on the wood floors in her adorable baby blue socks with darker blue
hearts all over them, part danced to the kitchen.

I followed with a lot less exuberance.

No, it wouldn’t be hard to tell Max we
weren’t going to explore
anything.
He wanted me to be a member of his harem? No. Not me. I
wasn’t going to become a card carrying member of that particular
club with, apparently, Mindy, who he’d brought home when
I
was under his
bloody
roof, and maybe Becca not to
mention the ex-member, bitchy, cheating, awful Shauna.

No way. No
bloody
way.

I went to the cupboard over the coffeepot as
Mindy pushed the bacon around in the skillet and I took down a mug.
Then I poured coffee. Then I spooned in some sugar. Then I went to
the fridge and sloshed in some milk. All the while I did this, my
mind tortured me.

Did he sleep with her on the couch when I
was upstairs in his bed? He was a big guy but his couch was deep,
long. Mindy was long too but she was also thin. It would be cozy
but it would work.

Did they
do it
, Max knowing I slept like the dead?

Or maybe not caring if I heard?

And also not caring what I’d think that he
had a predilection for young girls?

Not that he seemed to discriminate since
he’d obviously wanted me and Shauna seemed to be about my age.
Maybe he slept with anyone. Maybe that was why Sarah, the hostess
at the restaurant, gave me that weird, closed down look when I
walked in. Maybe he liked buxom, copper-haired, Deadheads with
fabulous earrings too.

I was sipping at my coffee and seething when
Mindy turned to me. “So, you live in England?”

“Yes.” My reply was short and curt and I
didn’t care. She might be okay with this arrangement, seeing as Max
was gorgeous and had a fantastic house, but she was young, she’d
learn.

“You like it?” she asked.

“Yes,” I replied again and saw Max rounding
the counter in jeans, a navy t-shirt that fit him like the gray one
he wore with his pajama bottoms. In other words, it fit him too
well.

I had the urge to throw my coffee mug at
him and then I squelched this mainly because he meant nothing to
me. I barely knew him. This intensity of emotion was because I
broke up with my fiancé via e-mail the day before. My emotion had
nothing to do with
Max
.