Reckless Encounter Read online

  “Don’t worry about it,” she told Joe lightly. “It’s common knowledge what happens to young lawyers who set up their own practice. Most sink, and even the ones who manage to swim end up sputtering in the waters if financial uncertainty before they find a way to stay afloat. I’m not sunk yet, but I’m floundering, and I’m sure Max knows it. Thank you for your concern, and for the vote of confidence.” She reached out to pat the back of Joe’s hand, touched by his willingness to help.

  They talked for a few moments longer and then went up to their rooms. Elena took a quick shower and made sure her papers for the morning were in order before she got to bed. She had barely settled down beneath the covers when muffled sounds of conversation filtered through the wall from the room next door.

  She could hear a high-pitched woman’s voice say something, and then a reply in a rumbling masculine baritone that she recognized. Max’s nine o’clock appointment was a bedmate. The knowledge stabbed through her, sharp as a knife.

  Elena pressed her head deeper into the pillow, frowning into the darkness of the room. She’d ignore the noises. Shut them out of her mind. Max Glaser meant nothing to her. He was everything she feared in a man—rich, arrogant, demanding and temperamental.

  Soon the conversation died down. Elena relaxed. She rearranged the pillows, pounded at them with her fist to fluff them up and wriggled to get comfortable on the worn mattress.

  And then she heard it.

  A heavy thud against the wall in the next room, so heavy it made the landscape print in a gilt frame rattle on the wall. Followed by a female moan of pleasure. The shrill voice gained strength as the woman cajoled the man into giving her more, described in bold words and shameless turns of phrase how she wanted him to touch her.

  Finally, the woman broke into the muffled cries of a climax.

  Bolting upright on the bed, Elena cast a wild look around the darkness in the room. There had to be something she could do to stop it. Despite the solid wall between the rooms, she felt like a voyeur, an audience to a sexual act that she was no part of, and from which she wanted to shrink away.

  She pictured the woman, tense as a coiled spring, her head thrown back in ecstasy. Max would be standing in front of her, his face dark with passion as he balanced between giving pleasure and taking it.

  Details sprang up in her memory, details she hadn’t even realized she’d noticed when Max Glaser made love to her. How his eyes had constantly flickered up to her face to gauge her reaction, to help him understand what turned her on. How he had kissed her neck, deep demanding kisses that electrified her nerves. How he had murmured quiet words of encouragement, telling her to let herself go and enjoy what he was doing to her. How he had silenced her with his hand over her mouth to muffle her screams. How his arm had curled around her waist, strong and protective, when he finally thrust inside her.

  Elena thought about the five thousand dollars he’d offered her that night, and she would have gladly paid just as much to make the sounds stop. God, she hated Max Glaser. He was doing it on purpose, to remind her of what she had done, how it had been between them.

  It was a cheap trick, and she would find a way to pay him back.

  Throwing herself down on the bed, Elena squeezed the pillow against her ears. It didn’t help. The noises were no longer coming from next door, but they were reverberating inside her head, and pictures were projecting from her brain against her tightly closed lids.

  The girl would be incredibly beautiful, tall and slender, probably a cool, classical blonde, and Max couldn’t get enough of her. He was stroking and caressing her, thinking how lucky he was to be with her, instead of the uncooperative lawyer next door. Perhaps he would be so smitten with her that he would keep the girl until the morning and bring her down to breakfast, like a hunter displaying a trophy.

  Suddenly, Elena could no longer take it. She threw the pillow aside and leapt out of bed. The flimsy wall had ceased shaking with the buffeting against it, but the woman was still moaning in the throes of passion.

  By now, Elena’s eyes had grown accustomed to the darkness, and she could see enough in the shadows to avoid crashing into the furniture as she rushed up to the connecting wall. Not pausing to evaluate the merits of her action, she hammered at the wall with her fists, ignoring the pain in her hands.

  Silence fell next door.

  Then the woman laughed and called out, “Sorry. I’ll try to keep it quiet.”

  Elena fumbled back into bed, tears of helpless rage burning behind her eyelids. The sounds from next door fell in their intensity. It dawned on Elena that she had only been listening to one voice—that of the woman. Apart from the initial conversation, Max had remained silent throughout their frenzied coupling. Gradually, the woman’s voice too faded away, leaving Elena alone in the darkness.

  Alone.

  While Max Glaser was making love to someone else.

  ****

  Max added up another column of numbers on his laptop screen and glanced at the hooker writhing and moaning against the wall. She was putting on a good show, giving it her all. He almost regretted to let all that energy and passion go to waste. But only almost, for despite the hooker’s obvious charms, he could not muster up enough interest.

  “Was that what you wanted?” the girl asked in a theatrical whisper.

  “Perfect,” he replied in a low voice. “Keep it up for another couple of minutes.”

  The girl was a surprisingly pretty redhead with a compact, curvy body and porcelain skin. If Max had seen her out on the street, he’d have taken her for a college freshman rather than a prostitute. The short skirt and red ankle boots added to the youthful image.

  Coquettishly, she batted her eyelashes at him. “Want to join me, honey”

  Max felt his muscles tense at the suggestion. “It’s okay,” he muttered. “Like I told you, just go through the motions and make a lot of noise. That’s enough.”

  “Honey…if you can’t get it up, there are things I can do to help.” The tip of her pink tongue slipped out and licked seductively over her lips. While Max contemplated her, she bowed against the door and let out another tortured moan, giving the charade her best effort.

  “It’s okay,” he told her. “I don’t have a problem getting hard.”

  She winked at him. “You’re married and don’t want to cheat on your wife, right?”

  His fingers clenched around the plastic mouse, sending the cursor jumping all over the computer screen. Not a wife, or even a girlfriend, Max thought irritably. Just a crazy one night stand that wouldn’t cease tormenting him. Damn it, what had Elena done to him, making him so obsessed that other women could no longer even tempt him?

  Six months of celibacy didn’t sit well on him. He didn’t know himself any more, didn’t understand the tangled web of his own desires, or the new emotions that twisted in his gut like a coil of barbed wire, tearing open wounds that ought to have healed long ago.

  When he’d ordered the hooker a few hours ago, he’d had some vague idea of erasing Elena from his mind by screwing another woman with her nearby. Didn’t matter who, the intention was not to enjoy the sex but to break the hold Elena had on him. One look at the girl who strutted in through the door and the idea of bedding a stranger had left him cold.

  And yet, he didn’t send her off, but had her going through her solitary motions while he reviewed the budget figures for fitting out the store. What was he trying to do? Remind Elena of their shared night? Make her burn with the memories of how her cool façade had shattered when he touched her? Taunt her with images of what she was missing by turning him down? Use jealousy to propel her back into his arms?

  Jealousy. A groan of frustration left Max’s chest. Elena jealous over him? She’d be more likely to tip the hooker and thank the girl for keeping him occupied for the night.

  The redhead stopped writhing against the wall and ceased making the sounds of steamy sex. Her eyebrows inched up in question. “You’re sure this is all you want, honey?
”

  Max pulled his wallet from his back pocket. “Quite sure.”

  “I guess it takes all sorts.” The young redhead gave an unconcerned shrug as she sauntered across the room. “Did I do it the way you wanted?”

  “You did great,” he told her, and added another fifty to the pile of cash.

  “Hey, thanks.” She beamed at him. “Best gig I ever had. I’m an aspiring actress. It was like rehearsing a scene. If you ever pass through this way again, ask for Marlene. That’s me.” With a suggestive wink, she stuffed the money into a hidden pocket inside her short skirt and eased her way toward the door.

  “Good luck with the acting.” Max got to his feet and waited for her to go.

  Marlene paused at the entrance and raked an appreciative glance up and down his body. “Well, I guess this is goodbye then, if you’re sure…”

  “I’m positive.” Max felt an odd tug of chivalry in his chest, an almost paternal feeling, and he added, “It’s not you, sweetie. You’re very attractive, but you guessed right. I decided that I don’t want to be unfaithful after all.”

  “She’s a lucky lady,” Marlene said. She opened the door and peered out to make sure the coast was clear before she discreetly slipped into the corridor.

  She’s a lucky lady. At the comment, another groan tore from Max. As sure as the earth revolved around the sun, Elena did not consider herself lucky to be the object of his lust. She welcomed his attentions with the enthusiasm of a mouse encountering a snake.

  ****

  Elena sighed with frustration as she stared into the mirror. No amount of makeup could repair the effects of a sleepless night. Dark shadows circled her eyes and her face sagged around the jaw, making her look forty instead of thirty-two. Her hands were sore from pummeling against the wall. Despite a long hot shower, her skin itched, as though afflicted with a rash.

  On her way down to breakfast, an ugly mood seethed inside her. Max and Joe were already sitting at a table by the window. To Elena’s irritation, Max appeared relaxed and well rested. Dressed in a dark suit and white shirt, cleanly shaven, the wavy black hair combed in neat layers, power and a sense of purpose emanating from him, he looked like a business tycoon in an afternoon soap on the television.

  Mercifully, he chose not to comment on her appearance. He merely stood up, pulled out a chair for her, and frowned as he studied her with an intensity that seemed to penetrate all the way into her mind.

  Joe wasn’t as discreet. “You don’t look well at all, are you all right?”

  Elena gave a tired nod and squinted against the slanting rays of the morning sun. “Just an upset stomach,” she replied in a listless tone. “Must be something I ate at dinner. I’m fine now, but it kept me up during the night.”

  A teenage waitress appeared by her side. “Just coffee, please,” Elena said, grateful for an excuse to turn around in her seat and gain a moment of respite from Max, whose inscrutable dark eyes were following her every move.

  It would be a hard day. She longed to be in the safety of her little house, where she could close the shutters and unplug the telephone. She could watch one of her favorite movies again—maybe an old black-and-white western, like Fort Dobbs, or an episode of Rawhide—and let the illusion of another world sweep her away, offering a moment of peace.

  “Why don’t you fly home this morning?” Max suggested. “You have copies of the contracts, and we can talk next week. There’s no point in hanging around here. I’m tied up today and tomorrow. Something has come up, and I don’t have the time to deal with you.”

  Her eyes flicked up to his face. A shadow crossed his craggy features. She couldn’t interpret the meaning of that small flash of uncertainty. On a boyfriend she would have taken it as a sign of guilt or regret, but Max owed her no loyalty, no consideration. In her mind, she replayed his comments.

  Something has come up. It had to be that woman. Max wanted to spend the day with her. I don’t have the time to deal with you. A chore. Duty. That’s what she was to him.

  Elena’s hands shook as she poured milk into her coffee and stirred. Her eyes stung. In panic, she recognized the threat of tears. It’s just the time of the month, she told herself. Period blues. It will soon pass.

  She took a sip of the coffee and grimaced at the bitter taste.

  “Lousy, huh?” Max commented.

  Unable to resist, Elena lifted her gaze to him across the table. He was watching her, and if she hadn’t known better, she would have described his expression as tender. One corner of his full mouth tugged downward in empathy, and she suspected that although he’d commented about the terrible coffee, in truth he was referring to her bedraggled state.

  “It will pass,” she told him with a hint of sharpness in her tone.

  Max stirred sugar into his cup. “No point in driving yourself too hard. Go home after the agreement is signed. You can work on the plane and bill me for the travel time.”

  The gentle tone in his voice and the concern in his eyes stripped away the shield of resentment Elena had been hiding behind. Why did you do it? She wanted to hurl the question at him. Was she better than I was? Do you still want me?

  “Thank you, I’d like to go home,” she said quietly. “I’ll go back to my room and check about flights.”

  Ignoring the full cup of coffee in front of her, Elena jolted up to her feet and rushed out of the sunlit dining room. She didn’t understand herself, didn’t understand the hurt that stung inside her. There was nothing between her and Max Glaser, but a sense of betrayal pierced her, cutting even deeper than the heartache when Steven had turned against her.

  And Max, he had thoroughly confused her with his reaction at the breakfast table. What was he up to now? So far, she’d been able to resist his gruff arrogance. If he started to treat her with kindness, what weapons did she have left to stand firm against him? A shiver of alarm rippled over Elena. God help her if it turned out that Max Glaser had a softer side.

  ****

  Max sat in the driver’s seat of the rental Crown Victoria and watched Elena hurrying into the hotel parking lot, a few minutes behind schedule, her fawn raincoat buttoned up against the autumn chill. Casting a quick glance around, she strode past him and instead headed for Joe in his white Pontiac.

  Max controlled his frustration, He had intended for Elena to ride with him. That’s what made the most sense, he told himself, in case he had any last minute questions about the terms of the lease agreement. He considered winding down the car window and barking out a command for her join him. Discarding the idea as petty, misuse of his position as the boss, he started the car and fell in line behind Joe

  During the meeting with the landlord, awareness of Elena’s forlorn mood pricked at Max’s conscience. He tried to keep everything as quick and simple as he could. Afterward, Max shook hands with the elderly gentleman who owned the store and told Joe to stay behind to take care of the details while he took Elena to the airport.

  She shot him an alarmed glance. “There’s no need. I can call a cab.’

  “I need to go back to the hotel anyway, and you’ll have to collect your suitcase.” Max held the door of the back office in the rear of the premises open for her. “You can take a cab from the hotel if you don’t want me to take you all the way to the airport.”

  As he guided her through the ramshackle store and into the parking lot outside the small strip mall, he could feel anxiety emanating in waves from her. It puzzled him that he could be so attuned to someone else’s feelings. Normally, Max liked to keep aloof, and expected to accord others the same shield of personal privacy.

  Elena refused to meet his eyes when he opened the car door for her. She hadn’t put her raincoat on again but carried it over her arm, just like she had when he first saw her standing outside his hotel room six months ago. A gust of autumn wind whipped in the air, sending dead leaves rustling at their feet. The faint sound drew his gaze to her slim ankles and the black leather pumps on her feet.

  An image of
her wearing nothing but high heels flooded his mind.

  Blinking to clear the idea from his imagination, Max made sure that Elena was settled inside before he slammed the door. He circled the car and got into the driver’s seat. He couldn’t remember ever feeling so unsure of himself with a woman, ever placing such importance on the right choice of words.

  “I think I owe you an apology,” he said after a full minute of silence.

  “What for?” Her voice was low. She kept her chin down.

  “I think I’ve upset you.”

  “I don’t have any right to expect you to take my feelings into account.”

  He glanced at her. The bruised look in her eyes caused an uncomfortable jolt in his chest, in the place where in a physical sense he had a heart, but until recently he had always assumed that emotionally he possessed a great lump of stone, or a hollow drum.

  “I offended you last night,” he said. “I know it, and you know it, and although I’m not quite sure I understand what I’ve done wrong, I’m sorry for it. I can’t undo the damage, but at least let me apologize for it.”

  For an instant, Max considered telling Elena that he hadn’t slept with the hooker, but he dismissed the thought. How could he explain his behavior? It was preferable that she thought him lacking in moral values instead of someone who had lost his sanity.

  Elena didn’t reply to his apology. Her face was a brittle mask, at the same time void of emotion and a battlefield of conflicting feelings—anger, defeat, longing—none of which gained ground over others, leaving an overall impression of confusion across her features.

  They drove in silence another mile through the windswept suburbia filled with modest homes surrounded by neat yards. The cries of children from a school playground rang in the air, giving Max an uncomfortable reminder about his own lack of roots.

  “Why do you do it?’ Elena asked without preamble.

  Max glanced at her and saw her throat move in a frantic swallow, as if she wanted to take the words back, make them unsaid.

  He gave an uncertain shrug. Had anyone asked him the same question a few months ago, he would have given an unhesitating response. Because I have the physical needs of a healthy male, and it is the easiest way to avoid complications. Now, his thoughts were mired in confusion. It occurred to him that he could stall by asking Elena to clarify what she meant with her question, but he didn’t wish to embarrass her further.