Outspoken Angel (4 page)

“Bring me the phone!” she demanded.

He bit his lip as he entered the yard and
spotted her sitting at the top of a large oak tree while a large,
gray tabby cat lounged below. The cat swished its tail ready to
pounce on the ringing phone.

“Max!” she shrieked.

Irritated by the thought of being discovered,
he stepped from behind the bushes. “What?”

She teetered on the branch. “Max!”

“What?!”

“Not you, Godzilla,” she spat. “I didn’t even
know you were here.”

“Then who were you talking to?”

“Max.”

He took a deep breath and then released it
slowly before he spoke. “Barbie, you are trying my patience.”

Her panicked tone became one of amusement.
“My cat’s name is Maxwell. What are you doing here?”

“Rachel sent me.”

“Why?”

“You aren’t answering your phone.”

The cell phone jingled, enticing the large,
fat cat once again. Chopping the air with his tail, Maxwell batted
the musical nuisance with his paws.

Cameron twisted her lips. “That phone? Down
there?”

“How long have you been in that tree?”

“Most of the day.”

“Why are you in the tree?”

“I followed Maxwell.”

Max folded his arms and braced one hip
against the tree trunk. “Can you get down?”

She lifted her chin. “Of course.”

He held his tongue and lowered his head to
peer over the top of his sunglasses.

“Okay no,” she said.

“Why didn’t you call for help?”

She threw him a menacing glare.

“I told you to keep your phone close.” He
pushed himself off the tree trunk.

“That was ages ago. I didn’t plan on getting
stuck up here.”

Cameron narrowed her eyes as he braced both
hands against the lowest branch of the tree and pulled himself up
to straddle it with zero effort.

“What are you doing?”

“Coming to get you.”

“Thanks anyway, Tarzan, but that’s more scary
than being stuck up here. Call the fire department. They have a
bucket.”

“You don’t weigh more than ten pounds.” Max
chuckled as he continued to climb. “I can carry you down under one
arm.”

He dodged branch after branch and reached her
within seconds. Face to face with her, he saw her
carefully-disguised fear hidden behind her scowl.

“Put your arms around my neck.”

“Why?”

“Do you want out of this tree?”

“Yes.”

“Then put your arms around my neck.”

Without further argument, she draped her
slender arms around his thick neck, an act that elevated his body
temperature at least ten degrees.

“No monkey business, Ape Man.”

Ignoring her jab, he reached around her and
planted his hands firmly on her waist to lift her against him.
Pausing for just a moment, he attempted to analyze a taunting,
muffled chime.
Bells? Again?

“Now, wrap your legs around my waist.”

Her eyebrows climbed her forehead. “I said no
monkey business.”

“Just do it!” he spat impatiently. “I need my
arms and legs to climb down.”

As if by force, she wrapped her long, slender
legs around his waist and pressed her body flush against his. He
grimaced at the heat generated between them and willed himself not
to react. He had to get her down the tree and off him. Fast.

Reaching between them, Max grabbed her above
her ribcage, attempted to shift her weight, and absently grazed the
underside of her breast. She gasped, wiggled free of his hold, and
grabbed a branch for support. Too late he realized he didn’t have
anything to grab. He cursed as he slid from one branch to another
and landed smack dab on his back on the ground below. Maxwell gave
a feral growl and pulled his tail from underneath Max’s legs.

“Max!” Cameron squealed. “Are you okay?”

He lay silent on the grass. Arms. Legs. Neck.
Sunglasses.
I’m good
.

“Max!” she repeated.

He stood and shook the dirt from his
clothing. “Are you talking to me or the cat?”

“You!”

“I’m fine.”

“Good.” She exhaled. “Now get me down.”

“I’m not climbing back up there.” He turned
and walked back toward the gate.

“You can’t leave me up here!”

“Yes, I can.”

“You wouldn’t!”

Without turning around, he held up a hand to
silence her. “Relax, Princess. I’m going to get a rope.”

Max left her dangling her legs from the
branch and tried not to hobble as he left the backyard. Sure as
hell, she’d pushed him out of that tree. He had half a mind to
leave her up there, except there was no telling what she’d tell
Rachel.

He exhaled a long breath as he remembered the
silky softness of her breast and the intense satisfaction of
holding her against him. Realistically, he probably deserved to be
thrown out of that tree.

He grabbed a rope from the back of his truck
and headed back. No way was he going to tell her he was
monumentally aroused by the red panties underneath her skirt.

“Okay, Wiggle Worm,” he barked, “one more
chance is all you get.”

“Just get me down.”

He threw one end of the rope to her. “Tie
that end around your waist.”

She ducked her head under a branch and
frowned. “You want to tie me up?”

He tilted his head to the side and considered
her question. That was definitely one way to get her down. “Do you
want me to tie you up?”

“No! I want out of this tree!”

Hell
. She would have to do things the
hard way. “Then tie the rope around your waist and loop it twice
around the branch before tossing it back to me.”

“If you’d just call Rick at the fire
department, he’ll come and get me down,” she groused as she
manipulated the rope.

Oh, hell no
. He’d had enough of
Fireman Rick the last time they met when Cameron managed to use her
baby blues to convince Rick and his fellow firemen to pose for a
calendar. When she volunteered as the hot oil girl, Max decided
then and there Rick would steer clear of her. Or else.

He snarled. “Just tie the damn rope!”

“I am! There, it’s done.”

Max tugged on the rope and watched it slither
down the tree.

“Your bright idea blew a bulb,” she
taunted.

Cursing under his breath, he tossed it back
to her. “Try again.”

“I tied the best bow I could.”

He took a deep breath. “It’s not a Christmas
package, Mrs. Claus. Try a square knot.”

“You didn’t specify what kind of knot the
first time, Popeye.” She retied the rope. “There.”

Max yanked again, pleasantly surprised when
it hugged the branch. Now, if he could just convince her to gag
herself, they’d be in business.

“Push yourself off the branch and I’ll lower
you to the ground.”

“Are you sure you know what you’re doing?
Rick-“

”Off the branch, Sassafrass!”

Without further incident, Cameron eased
herself off the branch and he lowered her from the tree. As soon as
her feet touched solid ground, she grabbed her massive, lazy feline
and squeezed him fiercely.

Max shook his head as he rolled the rope
around his shoulder. All this trouble for one small, pesky thorn in
his ass and a finicky feline.

She lowered the cat to the ground. “C’mon
inside, Stretch Armstrong.”

Said the spider to the fly
. Max piled
the rope on the patio then followed Cameron through the back
door.

She gestured at the kitchen table before
opening the refrigerator door and removing a bottle of water. “Make
yourself comfortable.”

Max squeezed himself into a chair, crossed
his feet under the table, and waited for the pierce of her
poisonous fangs.

Cameron placed the chilled bottle in front of
Max and attempted to analyze his silence. Anger? Relief? Amusement?
Nothing. His face remained handsomely blank.

She leaned back against the refrigerator,
cleared her throat and swallowed her pride. “Thank you for getting
me out of the tree.”

She swallowed again and prepared herself to
endure his unmerciful teasing.

“You’re welcome.”

Before she could question his response, he
lifted the bottle to his lips and took a long draw. Several small
droplets fell from the bottle and danced across the bare skin of
his chest exposed by his open collar.

Mesmerized, she could only think of one thing
to say. “Take off your shirt.”

He choked on the water and coughed. “You
wish.”

Good one, Cameron
. “Max.” She huffed
to hide her unintentional slip. “Just take off your shirt so I can
clean your scratches.”

“I’m fine, Florence Nightingale. Stop
nagging.”

“I’m not nagging. You fell out of a tree. A
tall one. And you scraped three branches on the way down. You
probably have scratches on your -“

”Wanna see?” His voice thickened with
amusement.

“Okay, fine.” She folded her arms across her
chest. “Die from infection.”

His lips quivered as he placed the water
bottle on the table. He found this humorous, did he? Fine, time to
pull out the big gun. Sickeningly sweet honey.

“Honestly, Max,” she purred, “we need to
clean the scratches.”

She actually witnessed his restraint break
into a thousand pieces as he attempted to hide behind his shaded
lenses.

She snapped her fingers and held out her
hand. “Sunglasses.”

His brow flickered as if he might remind her
it was he who issued orders. Instead, he placed the glasses in her
palm and his electric blue eyes dazzled in the sunlight. A smile
teased the corners of her mouth. The dark knight had blue eyes.
Hypnotic, deeply sensual blue eyes.

She rolled the sunglasses between her
fingers. “Armani.” She raised an eyebrow. “I’m impressed.”

He reached over his shoulder for the edge of
his shirt. “I have good taste.”

Cameron smiled and stepped to the cabinet for
a bottle of antiseptic. She moved several bottles around and
frowned. Everything except antiseptic.

“It’s going to have to be alcohol,” she told
him over her shoulder. “Can you take it, Big Guy?”

Cameron heard him snicker under his breath in
response. She grabbed the alcohol and a couple cotton balls and
turned around just in time to catch a glimpse of bare skin as Max
pulled his shirt from the waistband of his jeans. Licking her lips,
she redirected her concentration to his bulky arms, mesmerized as
his fingers grasped the hem. His signature black shirt traveled the
length of his steel-plated abs, scraped his muscled chest, and slid
over his smooth, bare head.

She gasped when he turned to the side and
each individually-carved muscle rippled as it worked to swivel his
body. Her eyes caressed him from top to bottom, until they rested
on the tattoo that spanned the smooth surface of skin between his
shoulder blades. The colorful art highlighted a Navy SEAL insignia
with an inscription beneath.

A mischievous smile creased her lips.
“Maximillion.”

He grinned. “What did you expect? Mom?”

“No, not Mom,” she said thoughtfully, “maybe
Stud
or something.”

He bit his lip.

“I’ve never seen it spelled like that,
though,” she murmured.

“I changed the spelling for the tattoo.”

“Why?”

“I had it inked after I made my first
million.”

She stared, speechless for one of the few
times in her life.

He shrugged. “I know a little something about
electronics.”

“You’re a millionaire and you spend your time
flicking groupies off Hawke.”

“I need something to do all day.”

Cameron grinned. Max could play off being
Hawke’s security manager as
something to do
all he wanted,
but she knew better. The friendship and respect between the two men
was blatantly obvious.

She stepped behind him and traced the logo
with her fingernail. “How long were you a SEAL?”

He grunted and shivered from her touch. “A
long time.”

“Why’d you quit?”

“I didn’t quit. I retired.”

“Retired?” Her brow wrinkled. “How old are
you, anyway?”

“I’m only forty-two.”

“Forty-two,” she clucked, “you’re a classic,
Max.”

Secretly, she tingled. Age had only ripened
him, sharpened his edges and packed him tightly into one scorching
hot package.

“What does a SEAL do, anyway?”

She didn’t expect a complicated answer. His
standard m.o. was to give limited, necessary information. This was
personal information. Not necessary. At least it was
conversation.

True to her prediction, he gave her a look of
faint amusement over his shoulder. “Classified information.”

“Oh come on, Max,” she taunted, “this is the
first actual conversation we’ve had and you’re going to clam up?
Did you ever kill anybody?”

“Yes.”

Cameron paused momentarily at his admission.
Of course he’d killed somebody.

She stroked the tattoo once more before
garnishing a cotton ball and dabbing his scratches.

He flinched as the alcohol met his raw skin.
“Easy there, Tiger.”

“Sorry, but if you hadn’t insisted on
climbing up after me, you wouldn’t be hurt.”

“If I would’ve known you were going to throw
me out of the tree, I wouldn’t have climbed up after you.”

“I didn’t throw you out. You tickled me and I
reacted.”

“Good excuse.”

“It’s true.” He hissed when she squeezed the
cotton and doused his wound with the stinging liquid. Somewhat
satisfied with his reaction, she tossed the cotton ball into the
trash can. “There. All better.”

“Not quite.”

Concerned, she moved to stand in front of
him. “You’re still in pain?”

He slid his sunglasses back on his face. “You
didn’t kiss it better.”

Cameron paused, never one to back down from a
challenge. With a slow, seductive grin she braced both palms
against his biceps and leaned over his broad chest. Holding his
shaded eyes hostage, she gently placed her lips to his.