Reckless Encounter Read online

  Elena waited on the sidewalk outside the nightclub until she managed to hail a taxi and could return to the hotel alone. In the privacy of her room, she tore the camisole top into shreds and tossed the pieces in the trash. Then she crawled into bed and tried to forget the feel of Max’s solid frame pressing against her on the dance floor. At least his suite was on a different floor, and she’d be spared the agony of listening to him making love to Vanessa.

  ****

  Max led Vanessa into the living room of their suite. Smiling her usual calm, confident smile, she settled on the big cream sofa and asked him to get her a drink. He walked over to the bar in the corner of the room and poured her a brandy, without needing to ask what she would like. After hesitating, he took out another glass and made himself a scotch on the rocks.

  He might need it, to get through what he had to tell her.

  Max crossed the room and handed Vanessa the drink, but he didn’t settle down beside her on the overstuffed sofa. Instead, he moved toward the window with curtains drawn to block out the night, propped his hip on the edge of the desk and took a sip, studying her.

  Vanessa looked like a beautiful painting, the way she sat stretched out on the sofa with her glossy mahogany hair fanned over the cream cushions. That was how he’d always seen her. Something to be admired, and handled with respect and care.

  Despite their long history, Vanessa had never cracked him open and reached into his hidden core, sparking a wild, heedless reaction in him. Not like Elena had. Did even now, by simply being in the same room with him. By merely existing.

  Two women.

  One filled him with cool, easy affection.

  The other scorched him with her hidden heat.

  “I didn’t understand how much seeing you again would make me rake over the past,’ Vanessa said, sounding almost petulant. “I’ve always told myself that you really wanted a blonde. And now you’re hung up over a woman who looks a lot like me. It makes me ask why it could not have been me. Why couldn’t we make it work?”

  Max shrugged. “I guess it was bad timing. I was never comfortable with the poor-boy-meets-a-rich-girl aspect of our relationship. Maybe if we had met ten years later, when I was already established, it might have turned out different.”

  Even as he spoke, he knew his words were hollow. It would never have worked. They were too different. “Anyway, it wasn’t just my fault,” he said in an easy tone. “It was yours too. You were never willing to make compromises. You need to admit that to yourself.”

  Vanessa grinned at him. “I think you might struggle getting compromises out of your luscious lawyer. The price of my help in making her jealous is that you keep me informed of your progress with her. Failure or success, you let me know. Do we have a deal?”

  “We have a deal,” Max said and knocked back the rest of his drink.

  Like a kiss from Elena, he thought as the smooth trail of the expensive whiskey burned down his throat.

  “Do you want to seal the deal in bed?” Vanessa asked. “For old times’ sake?”

  He turned the glass over in his hands. “I wanted to talk to you about that. Our casual habit of drifting together when we both find ourselves at a loose end…”

  “Yes?” Vanessa said. Her eyes narrowed with a wary look.

  “We need to stop it.” Max felt his fingers curl tight over the glass, and he forced them to relax. “It’s not fair to you. You ought to find someone to settle down with.”

  “I see.” Her words came out stiff and forced. There was a pause before she spoke again. “If that’s how you feel, you could have reserved me a separate room.”

  “The suite has two bedrooms.”

  “Not adequate.” Vanessa rose gracefully to her feet. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to leave.”

  “Leave?” Max stared at her. A sense of guilt churned in his gut.

  “Yes, Max. Leave.” She lowered her drink to the small table at the end of the sofa, then pulled a tissue from her purse and dabbed the corners of her eyes.

  “I’m sorry, Vanessa,” he said, truly meaning the words.

  “It’s all right,” she replied stiffly. “I thought you were using Elena as an excuse to ask me to come down. I didn’t realize you were actually serious about her.” She gave her head a tired shake. “Using one woman to make another one jealous. I think your courting habits are a bit on the primitive side.”

  “That’s why it would have never worked between us,” Max told her gently. “I grew up in a gutter and you grew up beneath a crystal chandelier. We’ve never really understood each other, or tried to adapt into each other’s world.”

  “I guess you’re right,” Vanessa said in an artificially bright tone. “Now, please, could you call me a cab so I can get to Denver and back into my own world?” Although her emphasis on the last few words was meant as humor, Max could hear the anger and hurt behind them.

  Relief poured over him as he made the arrangements for Vanessa to depart, and the feeling of having escaped disaster was not just from having navigated his way through the difficult scene. He shuddered at the thought that he might have drifted into a companionable marriage devoid of true passion. When rebuffed, Vanessa gently dabbed her eyes with a handkerchief. Elena slapped him in the face in public, for nothing worse than an obnoxious comment.

  He needed that fire.

  He needed someone like Elena.

  Chapter Six

  “Where's Joe?” Elena asked.

  She’d skipped breakfast and arrived downstairs to find Max sitting in the soaring lobby of the hotel, reading the Wall Street Journal and drinking coffee from a paper cup. In an effort to boost her confidence, Elena had pinned her hair into an elaborate chignon. A pink silk scarf softened the solid green of her wool suit.

  “Nice outfit,” Max said. “Strips off nicely too, as I recall.”

  “Don’t.” She scowled at him. “You promised it to be strictly businesslike between us. That was not a businesslike comment.”

  “I’ve changed my mind.” He grinned and rose to his feet. To Elena’s surprise, he reached out to take her hand. His fingers curled around hers, strong and warm.

  “Where’s Joe?” She tried to yank her hand away but Max tightened his grip.

  “Joe’s on a plane back to San Francisco. It’s his older girl’s birthday tomorrow. I told him to go home so he can be there when Betsy wakes up.”

  “Where’s Vanessa?” Elena asked, and blushed as soon as the words were out.

  “Gone.” Max stroked his thumb over the back of her hand.

  “Stop,” she told him, the color on her cheeks deepening to scarlet. “We have work to do, and holding hands like this isn’t businesslike behavior.”

  He released his grip on her trembling fingers her but continued to watch her with a peculiar intensity. “Change of plans,” he informed her. “The landlord got another offer yesterday, more than I’m willing to pay. He’s pulled out of the deal.”

  “Oh, no.” She let out a groan of disappointment. “Was that the phone call last night?”

  Max nodded. “It was too noisy to discuss it in the nightclub.”

  Elena shrugged in resignation. “In that case, I’ll fly home too.”

  He took a step closer to her, setting himself between her and the noisy family group that had spilled forth from the breakfast room. When he spoke, his voice was low and sincere. “Stay and have dinner with me.”

  “Dinner?” Her heart lurched. “If it’s to talk business, we can do it now.”

  “It’s because I want to spend time with you.” He smiled at her—a warm, almost wistful smile. “Not a business meeting.”

  The storm of emotion inside Elena raged out of control. She tried to conquer the turbulent feelings by focusing on her job. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I ought to have made the landlord sign a binding letter of intent.”

  “Doesn’t matter,” Max said. “I have a couple of other places to look at.”

  “Is there anything I can do
to help?”

  “No. Not in a professional capacity.” He glanced at his watch. “But I’d like to know that you’ll be here tonight when I get back, and that you’ll have dinner with me.”

  “All right,” Elena said on a nervous exhale.

  The relief of giving up the fight to resist him made her dizzy, like a bottle of champagne being shaken. Up to now, the current of attraction between them had been suppressed, their interaction limited by the presence of others.

  Tonight would be the first time she was alone with Max since she’d walked out on him at the Fitzroy, apart from the few minutes she’d spent collecting a stack of documents from his hotel room, and the ride he had given to her in his rental car from the store to the hotel a few weeks ago.

  Tonight they would be alone. Alone together.

  Odd emotions swept over Elena as she watched Max reach down to pick up his briefcase from the floor. She could see the muscles on his arm flex beneath the suit as he hoisted up the briefcase loaded with papers. His jet-black hair was getting a little too long, curling over the collar of his suit at the back. Her gaze skimmed along his powerful shoulders, memories flooding into her mind. Suddenly the room seemed too hot.

  Max straightened. Their gazes collided and held.

  “I’ll give you a call when I get back,” he said, a little rushed, as if he wanted to leave before she could change her mind. “I might be back quite late, so it’s simpler if we eat at the hotel.”

  “I’ll be here,” she promised.

  “Tonight,” he said, putting a whole world of meaning into the word. Then he gave her a curt nod, the intensity in his eyes scorching her, and he turned and walked across the vaulted log foyer to the exit.

  Once more, Elena was struck by the unyielding aura about him. When Max Glaser wanted something, not many people dared to stand in his way. A shudder shook her at the thought that if things didn’t go smoothly between them, one day she might have to pit her determination against his.

  ****

  Like on hot coals.

  A cat on a hot tin roof.

  Those phrases, familiar quotes from movies or books, acquired a new clarity for Elena as she prowled about the small country town, waiting for the hours to pass. Not wanting to wear the black trousers and jacket again, she’d searched the stores along the windswept Main Street. In a Goodwill store hidden behind the post office, she’d found a vintage dress in pale pink linen. Knee-length, the simple shift had a row of mother-of-pearl buttons on the front, only one of them missing half-way down toward the hem.

  Back at the hotel, she took a long soak in the bath filled with bubbles. Her hands traveled over her skin, spreading soap, but with each lingering sweep, it felt as if her senses were being fine tuned in, preparation for a renewal of Max’s touch.

  She dressed with care and settled down to wait. By the time it got to eight o’clock, her nerves were strung so tight that she jumped when the telephone rang.

  “I’m sorry I’m late,” Max said. “Give me fifteen minutes to take a shower. I’ll knock on your door when I’m done.”

  “No,” she blurted out, near panic. “Don’t knock on my door. I’ll go downstairs and get a drink while I’m waiting.”

  “Sure,” he said. “I’ll see you there.”

  He hung up without further comment. She’d noticed that about him. When Max agreed with an idea, he didn’t waste time discussing the plan but moved straight to the next step.

  The restaurant in the hotel looked like a rustic mountain lodge, with dark beams and an open fire in a stone chimney. The room had started to fill with guests, most of them dressed for a formal night out. Elena managed to get a small table in a secluded corner by the fireplace, not a popular choice because of the heat from the flames and the faint smell of wood smoke from the crackling logs.

  “This is fine,” she told the waiter who pointed out the drawbacks.

  She ordered a bottle of mineral water and spent the next few minutes studying the other guests, mostly affluent looking middle aged couples. Her heart gave a jolt when Max appeared at the entrance, dressed in his black suit and a white shirt open at the neck, drops of water glinting in his hair. The sense of raw power about him made him seem like a fighter, someone with the need to rule and conquer. In Roman times, he might have been a gladiator.

  The thought sent wild images tumbling through her mind.

  Max crossed the room and placed his hand on her shoulder. His touch was light, but even through the linen fabric of her pink dress it felt like a branding iron burning her flesh. He bent to brush a kiss on her cheek. He hadn’t had the time to shave again, and she could feel the scrape of the evening bristle on his jaw against her skin as he withdrew.

  “Thank you for waiting,” he said and took the seat opposite her, facing the fire. The flames glinted in his dark eyes and threw shadows on his craggy features.

  “I’ve got the menus.” She handed him one of the laminated sheets.

  “Good,” Max said. “Let’s order first. Then we can talk.”

  Elena stared at the printed page. The letters didn’t form words, and the few words she managed to string together didn’t convey a meaning. Talk. What did he mean, talk? She was saved by the waitress, who distracted them with her cheerful greeting.

  “Hi, my name is Brenda, and I’ll be your server tonight. Would you like to hear the specials?” The plump girl wearing black trousers and a white shirt launched into a list of dishes without waiting for them to respond.

  “I’ll have the fish,” Elena said. She was sure there had been some kind of fish, although she’d already forgotten. Max ordered a steak and a bottle of Merlot.

  When the waitress was gone, the awkward silence returned. Because they were seated in a corner, the buzz of conversation from the other tables didn’t seem an intrusion, but more like a barrier that isolated them to a small, private world of their own.

  Max finally broke the silence, his attention on the tablecloth, as if he understood how disconcerting she would find his comment. “You haven’t cashed my check.”

  “I can’t,” she replied. “Surely, you understand.”

  “Perhaps I do, but I’d like to hear it from you.”

  She took a deep breath. “I can’t because of what that would make me. I was just going to tear it up, but I decided to hold on to it. A keepsake for when I’m old and gray.”

  “But you need the money.” He shot a glance at her. “You’re broke. Joe told me.”

  “Joe talks too much.”

  Max raised his brows. “Why don’t you ask your family for help?”

  Startled, Elena leaned back in her seat, the heat from the fireplace enveloping her. She had assumed Tony Harris had told Max about her background, how she came from the slums and had earned every penny she possessed through her own hard work. But it appeared she might have been wrong. She didn’t know what to say without making it sound as if she was seeking sympathy. In the end, she just said, “I prefer to manage on my own.”

  Max abandoned his study of the tablecloth and regarded her evenly. “I want you to take the money. You’ve earned it, not the way you think, but because of the embarrassment I’ve caused you. Regard it as a gift.”

  “No,” she replied. “Thank you, but no.”

  He reached into the inside pocket on his jacket and pulled out an envelope. “I thought you might say that. Would you please read this? If you still say no, I won’t mention the topic again.”

  Elena took the envelope and tore open the flap. Inside, she found a formal letter thanking her for legal advice provided, and a check drawn on the MovieMax business account. She slipped the letter and the check back in the torn envelope and placed them on the table.

  She directed a searching look at Max. “Why are you doing this?”

  “Is it too difficult for you to believe that I want to help you?”

  “Why would you want to? Beyond what you’ve already done by giving me work?”

  They sat in silence fo
r a full minute. “Because I care about your welfare,” Max muttered in the end. “Now, stuff the check in your pocket, or tear it up. Enough time wasted on this nonsense.” He continued to fidget with his fork. Had it been anyone else, Elena would have described his expression as vulnerable. With Max Glaser, she couldn’t be sure.

  “All right.” She picked up the envelope and slipped it into her purse. “Thank you.”

  “My pleasure,” Max said, and winced at the words. To Elena’s amazement, he blushed. “I didn’t mean that, not the way you think,” he hurried to add.

  “I guess the polite phrase would be that the pleasure was all mine, but I hope that’s not true. Let’s agree it was mutual.” She smiled at him. He smiled back, the harsh lines of his face easing. Her stomach jolted, a little like when a plane hits an air pocket. An image rose in her mind of how Max had looked that night, his bare shoulders gleaming in the lamplight as he bent his mouth to her breast. She lowered her gaze and pretended to be busy unfolding her table napkin across her lap.

  “Is something wrong?” Max asked in a low murmur. “Have I offended you again?”

  “No.” Elena shook her head. “It’s just that…occasionally I can’t help remembering…”

  To her surprise, Max threw his head back and rocked with laughter. “Christ, that’s an understatement. Occasionally. Can’t help remembering.” He stared at her across the table, his eyes narrowing. “I lie awake at night and think of you, but I’m doing my best to behave in a professional manner. Shall we agree to have a pleasant meal? No references to what happened, no recriminations, no resentment?”

  Elena pursed her lips. Resentment. If only Max knew the tumult of emotions he stirred up inside her. She inhaled a deep breath. Casual conversation. She’d try her best. “Joe told me about how you became a businessman,” she said. “Do you have any regrets?”

  He nodded his approval at the change of topic and took the time to consider before answering. “Sometimes I find myself brooding over how things turned out, but doesn’t everyone feel that way about life’s major choices? The only thing I really regret is not being one of the boys any more. Not being able to file into a bar on a Friday night to bitch about the boss. I’ve got to keep away, so that everyone else can bitch about me. I don’t mind having to take the risks or fight the battles, but I mind the loneliness.”