Born to Be Wild (28 page)

He shook Mrs. Ryan’s hand when he reached the front door. “I’m sorry I bothered you. I hope I didn’t cause any problems for Charlotte.”

“She’ll be fine,” Mrs. Ryan said, and a tear slipped from her eye. “I hope you find your sister.”

“Thanks.”

Max opened the door and let himself out, waving to Mrs. Ryan when he reached the car.

The door closed behind her, and he took a deep breath before looking directly at Harry.

“Any luck?” Harry asked.

“No,” Max said, and shook Harry’s hand. “I guess that means you’re still in my employ.”

“Not exactly the words I wanted to hear, but I’ll be back at work tomorrow, hot on the trail. I’ll find your sister, Max. Trust me.”

“I’m holding you to that. She’s out there somewhere, and I don’t plan to ever give up looking.”

The flight out of Phoenix was late and Max almost missed his connection in Dallas. He’d run through the terminal, was the last passenger to board the plane, and had to squeeze into the middle seat, between an elderly woman wearing too much perfume and an overweight, sweaty businessman who continually mumbled about his bad day as he slugged down one drink after another.

Max had tried to sleep, but the plane tossed and turned through storm clouds. His own mind was just as turbulent, as thoughts of Mrs. Ryan, the Charlotte Wilde he’d seen today, and his own sister thundered through his mind. Exhaustion told him he should give up his search, that he’d never find the real Charlotte, that he was wasting
time, money, and energy. His heart said just the opposite.

He pulled into his driveway at two
a.m. The lights were off in the house and all was quiet. If this were any other night, if he’d had someone other than Lauren watching the kids, he’d send the sitter home and head for bed. But tonight he needed to talk. Tonight he needed to hold someone—and Lauren was the woman he wanted in his arms.

He wondered if Jamie and Ryan had tortured her, if they’d made her afternoon and evening absolute hell with their playful bickering, their refusal to do chores and homework. They could be a handful. Of course, Lauren could be a handful, too, and he had the feeling the kids had met their match.

Walking into the laundry room was a shock. The socks and towels that had been scattered on the floor that morning were nowhere in sight, and the month’s worth of smelly gym clothes Ryan had emptied out of his locker at school had been laundered and folded, and sat on top the washer next to a purple tote bag. He could smell the sweetness of Lauren’s perfume on the bag, and ran his fingers over it lightly as he headed for the kitchen.

The dirty dishes he’d expected to see stacked a mile high on the counter didn’t exist. A vase full of plumeria sat in the middle of the table, the strong fragrance wafting through the kitchen, which usually smelled of spices, fruits, and barbecued meat. The change wasn’t bad. In fact, he
could get used to having flowers in the house on occasion.

The key he’d left for Lauren in a potted fern
hanging from the patio cover lay on the table beside a list of emergency contacts and phone numbers, plus homework and bedtime instructions. A bold red checkmark followed each one of the assignments and chores, and scribbled at the bottom he read:

Dear Max,

Thank you so much for asking me to watch Jamie and Ryan. This was the second best time of my life. The first was Saturday evening with you.

Lauren

He chuckled to himself, folded the note, and stuck it into the inside pocket of his jacket, just in case she ever needed a reminder that kids could be fun, or that she’d spent the best night of her life with him.

He dropped his leather jacket over a kitchen chair, realizing that he was just as big an offender as the kids when it came to messing up the place. He pulled off his boots and socks and crept into the living room, not wanting to wake Lauren if she was asleep on the couch.

The coffee and end tables should have been cluttered with bags of chips and half-full cans of soda. MTV should have been blaring on an
unwatched TV. But the room was spotless except for schoolbooks, neatly closed.

Lauren must have bribed them. He couldn’t think of any other reason the house would be clean, unless Lauren had done the work herself. That thought made him laugh. Miss Palm Beach might not be all that domestic, but the little things she did brought joy to his life. What more did a man need?

Heading down the hallway, he eased open Ryan’s door and stepped inside, maneuvering around basketballs, gym clothes, tennis shoes, and jeans. The clean house stopped at the red and white do not enter sign posted on the outside of Ryan’s bedroom door. Ryan liked the “feel” of his mess and didn’t want anyone touching his stuff. Max didn’t come unglued about the state of the room. If Ryan wanted to live in a pigsty, that was his choice. He’d outgrow it sooner or later.

Over the past two years Ryan had amassed a roomful of sports memorabilia, not to mention walls covered with Michael Jordan, Larry Bird, and
Shaquille O’Neal posters. On the table next to his bed was the lockbox where he kept his collection of basketball cards, including the ones signed by Magic Johnson, Charles Barkley, and his all-time favorite, Wilt Chamberlain.

Max had no doubt Ryan could end up with a basketball scholarship. He’d encourage the boy in every way he could, but he wouldn’t make decisions for him. Ryan knew right from wrong, he knew what he had to do to get ahead, but the
choices were his own to make. If he stumbled and fell, well, he’d just have to pick himself up and move on. That’s what Max had been taught, and it had served him well.

That didn’t mean, however, that he didn’t have a soft side.

Looking at Ryan sprawled on top of his bed, the covers in a heap on the floor, his arms curled around a basketball, made Max realize just how much he loved him. He leaned over the bed and pressed a kiss to Ryan’s forehead, something he wasn’t allowed to do when the boy was awake. Philippe had kissed him that way, too, always late at night when he thought Max was asleep. Max hadn’t liked outward displays of affection anymore than Ryan did. But he’d liked it when Philippe had come into his room, pulled the covers up to his chest, and gently cupped his hand around Max’s shoulder. Max had never opened his eyes, never let Philippe know that he was awake. He just enjoyed knowing he was loved.

Making his way back through the hovel, he closed Ryan’s door and went to Jamie’s room. That’s where he found Lauren, sitting in a chair beside Jamie’s bed with an open book in her lap, her eyes closed, her head tilted to one side as she slept. It didn’t matter how many times he saw her—or how she looked when he saw her—he always found her beautiful. This morning, though, sitting by his daughter, she was prettier than ever.

He wanted to wake her, wanted to hold her, but he let her sleep, and went to Jamie instead. He
sat on the edge of the bed and brushed a lock of hair from his little girl’s brow. Pulling the sheet up to her shoulders, he kissed her forehead. She stirred, her eyes fluttering open then closed again as she tucked her hands beneath her cheek, and settled back into sleep.

He stood slowly, noticing in the moonlight that the far
corner of Jamie’s room was piled high with white, black, pink, and gold shopping bags with the names of exclusive Palm Beach shops emblazoned on their sides. The bribe! He should have known.

“We had fun.” He turned at the sound of Lauren’s whisper. Her eyes were open, watching him, and he held out his hand to her. The minute their fingers touched, he realized how much he needed her, how much he loved her warmth, the comfort that he found having her near. They’d known each other
barely a week, but it seemed a lifetime.

“You look tired,” she said, gently touching his cheek when they stepped into the hallway
.

H
e quietly closed Jamie’s door. “It’s been a long day.”

“I could tell that from the phone message you left.” She reached out and smoothed a strand of hair from his brow. “I’m sorry you didn’t find your sister.”

“This isn’t the first time I’ve gone on a wild goose chase.”

Her fingers lingered at his cheek then slowly curled around his neck. “Why don’t I fix you a drink?”

“That’s not what I need.” He lowered his mouth to hers, finding something far more potent than liquor to enjoy. His kiss was soft, but the feel of her breasts against his chest and the beat of her heart matching the rapid thump of his own made him want so much more.

He pressed her against the wall, his hands cupping her face, holding her mouth close as his tongue swept inside, danced with hers, and tasted her sweetness. His breath was ragged, his body hard with need. God, he wanted her. He needed her to wipe out the frustration and regret of the day, but reality surfaced.

His kiss slowed, gentled. “I want you more than I’ve ever wanted anyone,” he whispered, “but not in the hallway, not with Jamie and Ryan close by.”

She slipped her fingers through his and tugged him down the hallway. When they reached the laundry room, she grabbed the tote bag and her shoes from the top of the washer. “It’s been a long day, Max. You need to sleep and I should head for home.”

“If I went to bed right now all I’d do is toss and turn. I need to talk about today, about you and me, about where we’re going from here.”

Her gaze shot to her purple bag. “I brought a swimsuit.” Her hands slipped up his arms and did wonders on the hard, tense muscles in his shoulders. “It’s warm out and the pool’s inviting. We could talk. You could relax.”

Relax? Hell! He hadn’t forgotten how seductive she’d looked walking out of her swimming pool,
hadn’t forgotten her alluring curves, the way he’d hardened at the sight of her. “Getting into the water with you could be dangerous.”

“All I plan to do is swim.”

“I might have other ideas.”

Her soft lips tilted into a smile. “I’ll take my chances.”

Had he gone plumb loco? he wondered, when she headed to the bathroom to change. How could he get into the swimming pool with Lauren and not do something rash? He didn’t want her in a swimsuit, no matter how sexy she looked. He wanted her naked, and he wanted to spend hours exploring all her luscious curves, every nook and cranny.

But not in his backyard pool. Not when Jamie or Ryan could wake up and stumble outside to find them. Somehow or other he was going to have to keep his lust under control, but that was easier said than done around Miss Palm Beach.

He went to his room, stripped out of his clothes, and pulled on a baggy pair of swim trunks. Stepping in front of the mirror, he took a look at himself, wondering what a woman like Lauren Remington could possibly see in him— especially now. He had a day’s growth of heavy black stubble on his cheeks and dark circles ringed his eyes. Not an impressive sight.

A few quick swipes with a razor took care of the stubble. There wasn’t much he could do about the exhaustion that was evident on his face, but he took a toothbrush to his teeth and felt somewhat human again.

He also felt like a schoolboy on his very first date.

Lauren, however, was far from being a schoolgirl.

Grabbing a couple of towels from the linen closet, he headed outside into the warm night air. Lauren was already there, standing breast deep and looking drop-dead gorgeous with the moonlit water lapping about her body. He dropped the towels on a patio chair and dove into the pool.

The underwater lights shimmered on her legs, which fluttered back and forth, keeping her afloat. He circ
led her body, stroking her hips and the outsides of her thighs as he swam, and watched, and felt his need for her rise to an all-time high.

Putting his hands on her hips, he pulled himself to the surface. Their eyes met. Danger and desire were only a heartbeat away. He moved in for a kiss, but she shoved away from him, laughing as she swam to the steps at the shallow end.

“Frightened?” He focused on her pretty green eyes, while stroking through the water toward her.

She shook her head. “Not of you.”

“What are you afraid of then?” he asked, standing over her, water dripping from his hair to her upturned face.

“My reactions to you. I need to go slow, but I want to move fast, and those two emotions are doing battle with each other.”