Heartfire (11 page)

***

The following weekend, Max waved his hand at the half covered wall in Ryan's room.  "We should have done what the salesclerk suggested," he said with barely restrained impatience.  He should have followed his better judgment instead of listening to Tessa.  But he hadn't wanted to argue with her.  He could never seem to win arguments with Tessa.

Tessa stared at the middle of the wall where three sheets of wallpaper began to lean crookedly to the left.  "Do you always do what you're supposed to do?"

He gave her a dark look.

"All right," she conceded.  "We should have made a plumb line.  Or used a laser level.    But the room's so small, I didn't think we needed to."

"You do a plumb line so you put the wallpaper on straight even though the walls are crooked.  It has nothing to do with the size of the room.  I don't know where my laser level is.  I think a neighbor borrowed it."

Pushing the curls off her forehead with the heel of her hand, Tessa laid the paper smoother she'd used on the floor.  "You're right.  I was wrong.  Let's do it over."

Her admission surprised him.

"What?" she asked at his raised brows.

"I thought you'd give me more excuses."

She caught the edge on the last sheet of wallpaper and pulled it from the wall.  "No point to that.  We'd still have a room to paper."

Max almost smiled.  Either Tessa was mellowing or...maybe he'd been too critical of her in the past.  He didn't stop to ask why, but picked up the wallpaper kit with the plumb line included.  "It's a good thing we bought a couple of extra rolls of paper."

"I'm just glad we don't have to be too careful about matching the pattern.  That could get tricky."

Ryan hadn't chosen the race car bed, but he had picked wallpaper with various types and colors of cars sprinkled onto a white background.  It was lively, but not overwhelming.  Tessa had tackled this project as she tackled everything else—with zest and purpose.

Ryan's voice came sailing up the stairs.  "Hey, Dad.  Are you done yet?"

Max laughed and skirted the furniture in the middle of the room as best he could to get to the doorway.  "It will be lunch time at least."

Ryan yelled back.  "I'll come watch you after SpongeBob is over."

Max shook his head and stood beside Tessa at the wall they'd tried to paper.  "I don't let him watch TV that often. He's going to take advantage of this."

Tessa used her fingernail to start unpeeling the second piece of wallpaper from the wall.  "Have you thought any more about getting him a dog?"

Max took an appraising look at Tessa, as he was doing more and more lately.  Her jeans fit her waist, hips and thighs as if they'd been custom fit for her curves.  Her yellow T-shirt molded to her breasts all too well.  His palms itched and he quickly turned his attention to what she'd asked.  "You think it would be a good idea?"

Tessa tore down the last sheet of paper.  "Yes.  I don't know if he's ready for the responsibility, either, but he'll certainly learn it.  It's whether or not you want the bother of training and everything that goes with it."

He grimaced.  "The messes?"

She crumpled the paper and threw it on top of the bed.  "Barking or whining in the middle of the night."

Max grinned this time.  "How do you know so much about it?"

"I read a lot."

Max took the string from the package in his hand and gave Tessa a piece of blue chalk.

She rubbed the chalk along the string as he stretched it.  "If you get a dog, he'll be a house dog, won't he?  I mean, you wouldn't pen him outside?"

Max gazed into her wide green eyes and instinctively knew she'd felt as if she'd been outside looking in most of her life.  "Absolutely not.  He wouldn't be a pet if we penned him outside."

She didn't drop her gaze but looked as if she had something else on her mind.  He waited.

"You know, you could think about getting a dog at the shelter.  Unless you really believe Ryan needs a pup."

Max supposed Tessa wanted all orphans to have homes, even canine ones.  "That's something to think about."

He was discovering so many facets to Tessa he never knew existed.  Their summer in the Poconos had been filled with activities, talk about the future, work.  She'd told him from the first day she'd met him that she intended to see the world.  So they'd played tennis, gone horseback riding, and he’d kissed her until she would push away and put her guard up.  Maybe their time together now was different because they'd both matured.

Tessa tied a weight to the end of the string so it hung like a pendulum.  Max pressed the weight against the wall, took the string in the middle, and pulled it back like the string in a bow.  When he released it, it pinged against the wall, making a straight blue line.

Tessa was right next to him, wallpaper in hand.  He could smell her shampoo.  He could almost remember the softness of her tumbled curls.  Desire mounted, and he took the roll of wallpaper from her.  "I'll unroll.  You cut."

Max's gruffness surprised Tessa.  A few minutes ago, he'd been smiling at her.  Ryan's room was certainly larger than a tent, but she felt the same way she had in the canvas confines.  Aware.  Much too aware of Max as a man and herself as a woman.  His grey T-shirt and black jeans showed off his physique as a suit never could.  There was male power there, in the muscles, in the strength evident as he'd shifted furniture to the center of the room.

Max rolled the prepasted paper backwards, with the pattern on the inside, and dipped it into the pan of water.  He waited a few moments, then took it to the middle of the wall where the chalk marked a true vertical line.  Letting the paper unroll from the ceiling, he pressed the upper section with his hand, heading toward the middle.

Tessa saw the lower section leaning away from the line.  She took the edge to pull it sideways and gave a little yank.  But the yank was too strong.

Max grunted. 

When she looked up, she saw the wallpaper had come loose and rolled onto his head.  Straightening, she saw the paper had twisted and the pasted side had landed flat on his hair!

A giggle rose to her throat, but seeing the expression on Max's face, she didn't let it loose.  "Hold still and I'll see if I can save it."

"What about me?" he growled.

She lifted the corner slowly.  "I'll try not to pull out all your hair." 

A few strands stuck as she gently lifted the paper.  Moving away from him, ignoring the pull toward him and the urge to wipe the paste from his hair, she tried to attach the paper onto the wall again.  When she dropped her hands, it fell.  She hazarded a look at Max and saw his lips twitch.

In an amused tone, he asked, "Do you think somebody's trying to tell us something?"

Tired of fighting her impulses, tired of keeping a distance from Max, and as if it were the most natural thing in the world to do, Tessa ran her fingers lightly over the pasty section of Max's hair.  "That you need a new spiked hairstyle?  Your students would love that."

The beginnings of his smile disappeared, and she knew she should step back.  She couldn't.  Something in his eyes compelled her not to move at all.

Chapter Seven

Tessa felt Max's hands on her shoulders—strong, large hands that tempted her with their warmth.  His brown eyes were the darkest she'd ever seen them.  His expression was almost pained, and she couldn't keep from reaching toward him again and stroking his jaw.

With a groan, Max bent his head and sealed his lips to hers.  She never expected the fire shooting to every place in her body as their lips touched.  She never expected passion to rise up so quickly.  She never expected the need that pulled her closer to him.

Max wrapped his arms around her, and "close" took on new meaning.  He was tall and strong and hard.  She could feel his heart pounding against her breasts.  Hers seemed to thump in the same fast rhythm, beat for beat.  She curled her fingers around his upper arms to steady herself.  Max's smell, his feel, his desire pressing against her made her giddy.

When his tongue slid along the seam of her lips, she didn't hesitate but opened to him.  The thrust of his tongue was demanding and stirred a squall of feeling she couldn't begin to name.  She held on tighter.

He thrust deeper and swept her mouth feverishly as if he'd never have enough time if he did it slowly.  She wanted to savor every moment.  Stroking her tongue against his, she felt him shudder.  His hands stroked the small of her back.  He was fully aroused and she could feel his need as deeply as her own as she trembled in his arms.  As exciting as his kiss was, it made her feel grounded, as if this were where she belonged.

Belong?  Her?  She thought that was what she'd always wanted—to belong.  Yet suddenly the idea scared her.  Belonging meant opening her heart, making herself vulnerable, giving up freedom, taking a risk.  She might take risks in her work but...

Max pressed her tighter against him, and she forgot about risks, she forgot about being vulnerable, she forgot about freedom and everything but his kiss and being held in his arms.  She went pliant against him, raised her arms and laced her hands in his hair.

Max groaned deeply and moved against her.  Her heart skipped and her breath caught.  She'd never known desire could be like this, that she'd feel so alive, so much a woman, so reckless.  His thick hair caressed her fingers as she felt its vitality, as she reveled in its texture.

As her tongue swept over his, responded to his, danced with his, the world and all its concerns blurred.  She wanted him.  He wanted her.  Her body hummed with a primal beat, her pulse raced, and breathing seemed non-essential.  Max relentlessly discovered every secret of her mouth until no thoughts were the best thoughts and only feelings mattered.

But then all the excitement, the wonderful sensations, the intimacy, were cut off.  Max abruptly raised his head, pulled away and dropped his arms.  She heard her own gasp of protest as she felt deserted, cold and empty.  Opening her eyes, she tried to get a grip on her balance as well as her emotions.

Max realized they'd been rushing forward without any thought to where they were headed...and where passion like this would end.  "What are we doing?"

He could see the exact moment Tessa withdrew from him.  The passion-induced glaze left her eyes, and he could read nothing from her expression.  The change stunned him.  A minute ago, she'd been a responsive, emotion-filled woman.  And now...  She stood straight, calm and coolly composed.

"We both know better.  We both know nothing can come of this."

As Max had kissed Tessa, he'd felt more alive than he had in years.  But then thoughts of Leslie had seeped through and guilt stabbed at him.  It still lingered.  Yet he was a little annoyed that Tessa could so easily slough off a kiss that had felt as if it could destroy him.

"Maybe we should talk about it."

"There's nothing to talk about, Max.  We'll both forget it.  Just as we forgot the kiss at the campsite...just as we forgot those kisses nine years ago."  She plucked the roll of wallpaper from the bed.

Max couldn't push her.  If they talked, he didn't know what he'd say because his own thoughts weren't clear.