Baby Under the Christmas Tree Page 12

  “Yes!” She immediately went at the buttons on his shirt and it became a frantic tussle as they fought to rid each other of their clothes. Finally skin met skin, mouth melded to mouth, body shaped to body, and still she strained to get closer.

  “You like that?” A smile formed against her temple before his tongue sampled her in a heated caress.

  “More.” She wallowed in him, his scent, his touch, his taste. Everything male about him appealed, excited, satisfied everything female in her. She loved the feel of him under her fingers, running her hands over his skin, finding the different textures, smooth, hair-roughened, soft, tough, thrilling to his sensual response as she explored each new territory in depth.

  And he returned the favor. A true combatant, he approached lovemaking with a strategy designed to assess, weaken and overcome. And he was every bit as masterful in bed as he was on the ice.

  The man knew how to use his hands.

  He assessed with gentle intensity, weakened with tender demand and overcame with erotic insistence, claiming all of her until she surrendered both mind and body to his carnal assault.

  She gave everything asked of her, and in return she turned his passion back on him, bringing him with her to a shattering culmination.

  * * *

  Max stared at the ceiling, striving for inspiration. Making love to Elle ranked as one of the best times of his life. Right up there with winning the Stanley Cup with the Ducks.

  The win had been the first for the Ducks, the first for a California team. He hoped to bring the same luck to San Diego. Hopefully this year.

  Until tonight nothing had beat the high of that win.

  The problem was he wanted to keep her.

  He pressed his nose to her hair, inhaled cherries and smiled. The sense of belonging he experienced in her arms went beyond anything he’d ever known. Ever hoped to know.

  And it had started nearly a year ago. Dancing in the moonlight, holding her close, falling into her kiss. He’d stolen that time, let the magic carry him away for an hour. But in the end he’d known being with her was a fantasy he could never have.

  Now he struggled between believing what they had was too good to be true, and finding a way to claim her as his. Honestly, he just wanted to wake her and make her his all over again.

  Instead he kissed her hair and stole quietly from the bed. Pulling on his shorts he let himself out of the room. On his way downstairs he checked on Troy. He had the baby monitors, but preferred to do a visual check when he was up.

  Troy slept peacefully. Max would like him some of that. Since it wasn’t coming, he skipped down the stairs and made his way to the living room and the grand piano. He flexed his fingers, ran them down the keys and back, then began a classical piece.

  The strength and power of the music appealed to him. Playing fed his soul but also freed his mind to ponder.

  He solved a lot of his problems in this seat.

  All he came up with tonight was the realization that timing sucked.

  Elle’s passion, her support over the past week even when she clearly disapproved of him, her affection for Troy, had won him over.

  Generally he had no problem breaking a few rules, but if he took on the role of captain, as he was being urged to do, he’d need to curb that tendency. Plus Amber was about to make his life a living hell.

  Elle deserved better than to be dragged through the stink with him. She’d literally put her life on hold to help him. And he hadn’t made it easy for her.

  Shame on him.

  He was paying for it now. He’d finally found a woman he had feelings for, and he was the worst thing that could happen to her. Being with him was a threat to her career and her reputation.

  No way was he going to let Amber bring Elle down with him.

  His reputation could take it. He was The Beast, people practically expected bad behavior from him. And she’d done her best to put his relationship with Troy into a good light.

  He’d known a lot of women, but this was the first time his gut had gotten involved, the first time he felt the promise of something more. He liked her. Her courage, her competitiveness. Her loyalty.

  For a minute there he’d thought she was going to nail Amber with a right hook. But Elle thought before she acted. Something he truly admired as it was a self-taught talent he still struggled with.

  He had no doubt she could have clocked Amber. All without putting a hair out of place on her own head, thanks to the education of her four older brothers.

  Max reached for his phone, realized he’d left it upstairs and made a mental note to send the Austin family box seats for a game. He owed them for the experience of watching Elle frog-walk Amber to his front door.

  What a woman.

  The scene had made him so hot. He’d longed to wrap her in his arms right then, right there. And he would have except for the need to take care of his child first. That she helped Max put Troy to bed with tender affection tinged with heated feminine urgency had just made Max hotter to have her.

  And wow! Amazing what liking a woman added to the experience.

  Freaked him out a little. No, it freaked him out a lot.

  But he was no coward. He wanted to spend time with her, see where this thing between them was going.

  Feathering his fingers over the keys, he built the momentum, holding his posture as he sped from note to note, pounding faster and faster until he reached the crescendo.

  There was just one big problem. In protecting him and Troy, Elle had made an enemy of Amber. Max couldn’t let Elle get hurt. Not because of him.

  He was used to loneliness, to handling things alone, on his own terms. He should have stuck with that model and not involved the team or anyone else.

  He’d been thinking he might be able to save his career if he had the team working with him, backing him on this whole parenting gig. And they’d really stepped up. Elle was solid as a rock and Ray hadn’t hesitated, blustered a bit, but he’d come through.

  Amber knew how to work the angles; she had contacts in the press that would listen to her. No matter that what she spat out was half truths at best and more often than not outright lies, her contacts didn’t care. The more sensational the headline the better they liked it, and it was up to the victim to prove it wasn’t the truth.

  Elle wanted a career in public relations. She knew how it worked. Knew, too, that being connected to something like this could be a career wrecker.

  “You play the piano?” There was surprise in the sleep-husky voice.

  He looked up at her, and took a fist to the heart. Dressed in one of his shirts held together by a single button, her hair a wild mess of curls, she took his breath away.

  She walked over on bare feet to sit next to him on the bench. “I thought this was just a showpiece.”

  “That’s what most people think.” He settled his hands on the keys, the instrument falling silent.

  “Don’t stop,” she urged him. “I like it, though I wouldn’t have pegged you for classical.”

  He chose a lighter sonata, started picking it out. “I like the classics, and, yeah, I know I’m butchering it.”

  “No. It’s lovely.” She inched closer, her arm stealing around his waist, but she stayed behind him allowing him the freedom to play. “Who taught you?”

  “Deb turned me on to it. Taught me a few pieces. I’ve taught myself the rest. I also like jazz and hard rock. But when I play I lean toward the classics. The powe
r and depth appeals to me.”

  “You taught yourself? I’m impressed.”

  “The first thing I did when I got picked up by the Ducks was buy Deb and Pat season tickets to the symphony. She loved it. She refused to take them after Pat died, so I bought them for me and gave them to her to hold. When I’m in town, we go together. If I’m out of town, she takes a friend.”

  “That’s very sweet.” She sighed. “I love jazz. A good saxophone piece can touch your soul. Do you know what I mean?”

  Max nodded, and let the tension ease from his shoulders. She wasn’t going to laugh. At his playing. Or at him.

  He caressed the keys, giving her his favorite jazz piece. “I heard this in New York at the Beacon Theatre.”

  “Oh! I’m so jealous.” She squeezed his arm. “I bet you could get backstage.”

  His head shook in automatic reaction to her question. “I never go backstage.”

  “Why not?” she demanded, obviously outraged on behalf of everyone who would like to go backstage and couldn’t. “Are you embarrassed to be caught enjoying music?”

  “No.” He couldn’t look at her. Embarrassment had nothing to do with his feelings. He loved the music, but sometimes he sat in the dark and felt like a fraud. It was so beautiful, so cultured, and he was just a punk from the streets. “It’s private,” he told her, hoping it would suffice. “Something I do for me.”

  “Humph.” She still sounded disgruntled. “Figures. And here I was planning a night at the symphony for my nephew’s team. It would be so good for boys to see their sports heroes enjoying a little culture. I swear I’ve spent half my life looking for a man who understands there are enjoyable pursuits in life beyond sports.”

  Now he did look at her, admired the way the light filtering from the kitchen caught the gleam in her fiery hair. Had she just admitted he was her dream man?

  Nah. Having something in common didn’t make them soul mates.

  “A lot of men go for the arts.”

  “Yes, and they are perfectly nice men.”

  “But?”

  “Nothing.” She gave a casual shrug, causing the collar of his shirt to slide off her creamy shoulder.

  He simply lifted one dark eyebrow.

  She bit her lip, holding back for all of a minute before blurting, “But boring.” Rolling her eyes in self-disgust, she spilled, “Most of my life revolves around sports. My family are big-time sports people, my job is sports-related—”

  “Why?” he broke in. “If you find sports so overwhelming, why work for a professional sports team?”

  “Simple. It’s what I know. I wasn’t into sports myself but my family was, so I focused on the business side. I worked my way through college as assistant to the athletic director at State and when I graduated he recommended me to the Thunder team. It was a great opportunity. But what I really want is my own business. I’d like to work with foundations to help make a difference in the world.”

  “Admirable.” He wondered what she’d say if she knew he funded a foundation to help keep kids off the street. It was something so private, so personal, he found it hard to talk about. For the first time he was tempted to share.

  “You can see why I want something more in my private life than someone looking for the next game.”

  And the moment passed.

  “Shouldn’t be so hard to find.”

  “You wouldn’t think so, huh? But it’s my experience men either like sports or the arts. Few straddle the line.”

  “A smart man would adjust simply for the opportunity to straddle you.” He turned toward her, lifting one leg up and over the bench so she sat between the spread of his legs. Seeing the bruise on her cheek, knowing he was in part to blame, sickened him. Tomorrow he’d deal with that. Now he leaned close and ran his tongue the length of her neck.

  “I think I need my shirt back.”

  Delicate fingers cupped his cheek and she kissed him softly, making him ache from the sweetness of her taste.

  “You are wicked,” she admonished him.

  “Well, I am The Beast.” He growled low in his throat then took a nip of that creamy shoulder. “And I’m not done with you yet.”

  “Good.” Melting against him, she looped her arms around his neck. “Because I’m not done with you either.”

  Wrapping an arm around her waist he pulled her into him, letting her feel how much he wanted her. Damn her dream man. He might be her future. Tonight belonged to Max.

  He wouldn’t put her through the media circus to come. Having her by his side throughout the ordeal was nothing more than a fantasy. And he’d learned a long time ago to deal in reality.

  If he lost his career over this, he’d survive it. If he cost her her career, he’d never forgive himself.

  It might not be too late. If he created distance between them, it might be enough to keep her from becoming collateral damage to his domestic nightmare.

  So yes, he’d give her up, but not tonight. He lifted her into his arms and carried her to the couch. Tonight she was his to cherish, his to adore. With a groan he sank into her welcoming arms and let the world fade away.

  * * *

  Elle woke with a smile. She felt good. Better than good. She felt energized, satisfied and surprisingly rested. Surprisingly because of the lack of sleep.

  She stretched and her body hummed with contentment. An emotion that stayed even when she opened her eyes and found herself back in Max Beasley’s bed. She remembered every scorching moment of the night before.

  Reaching out for Max and encountering only cool sheets motivated her to prop up on her elbows and survey the room. No sign of him. Her mood dimmed a bit.

  And then she noticed full sunlight hit the east-facing window, filling the room with warmth and light. Uh-oh. No. The clock read 8:45 a.m.

  “Max,” she called out as she swung the covers back and hopped from the bed.

  No response from the man, but baby sounds came from the monitor. Troy was here, which surely meant Max was somewhere in the house. Probably making coffee.

  She could really use some coffee.

  She grabbed up her clothes—where were her panties?—and dodged into the shower. When she stepped out eight minutes later, Troy’s cries streamed through the monitor and there was still no sign of Max. Or her panties.

  Giving up on her underwear she hurried into her clothes and went after Troy.

  “Hey, babe.” She smiled at the cranky toddler. “Good morning.”

  “Elle.” He scrambled off the bed and flew across the room.

  She swooped him up and cuddled him close. Poor baby, tears stained his cheeks. She should have checked on him before taking her shower, but she’d been sure Max would get him. Now, not so sure. And a sinking feeling began to grow within her.

  Last night had been magical. She’d known, of course, that it meant nothing, that it was just two people scratching an itch. She’d told herself she could handle the casual night of loving.

  After all, she’d gotten over her major objections to the man.

  His arrogance hid a surprising vulnerability that came from his dysfunctional childhood. Which made his determined dedication to Troy all the more admirable as he strove to give his child something he’d clearly lacked himself.

  She had so lied to herself.

  And that wasn’t the biggest mistake she’d made.

  Oh, it had started out casually enough. Fueled by adrenaline and desire, that first time
had been hot and fast, totally hormone-driven. But after finding him at the piano, finding they shared a love of music, she’d experienced a closeness that transcended a casual joining.

  And that next time he’d been carnal, and yes, totally wicked, but also tender, his touch so reverent she lost a little of her soul.

  Now he was missing in action. So not good.

  She prayed he hadn’t built her up just to leave her. Again.

  She headed downstairs in search of her errant lover. If they’d been at her house, she could see him making a dawn escape. But this was his place. And even if he’d felt compelled to bypass the morning-after confrontation, he wouldn’t have just left Troy behind. Would he?

  Obviously he would. She found the note propped against the coffee machine. Short and to the point, no salutation, no signature.

  Had an early meeting.

  Can you drop Troy at your mom’s?

  She crushed the note in a clenched fist. It shouldn’t hurt so much. But it did. It was a slap to the face when she’d allowed herself to hope for more. Big mistake. Huge. She couldn’t believe she’d let him reject her again.

  Well, message received loud and clear.

  “Daddy?” Troy asked.

  “Daddy went bye-bye,” she said through a clogged throat. “Come on, baby.” She settled him more comfortably on her hip. “Let’s get you ready to go.”

  “Juice?”

  “I’ll get you something on the road,” she promised.

  She needed out of this house now.

  CHAPTER TEN

  MAX HUFFED INTO his cupped hands, warming his fingers with the heat of his breath. Clouds hung heavy in a gray sky as a brisk wind shook palm fronds and blew the dew across his windshield.

  He sat in his SUV outside his own home feeling like a complete jerk. Probably because he was a jerk.

  Regardless, he’d stay until he saw Elle leave.