Almost Forever Read online

  The safe thing to do would be to run, to simply stop seeing him. She had lain in her bed and turned the idea over and over in her mind, but when morning had come she had admitted to herself that she couldn’t do it. She loved him, and perhaps he was coming to care for her a little. There had been something hot and a little frightening in his eyes before he’d masked his expression, an almost predatory look of hunger. A man didn’t look like that if he wasn’t interested. That look gave her hope.

  Now she came out of her thoughts to find him watching her with wry amusement, and color tinted her cheeks. Had he been able to tell the direction of her imaginings?

  “You aren’t eating at all. You’re dreaming,” he said, taking the fork from her hand and placing it on the mat. “Shall we go?”

  On the drive home he asked quietly, “Claire, I didn’t intend to make you uneasy with me. I apologize for putting you in a difficult spot. If you aren’t attracted to me, I understand. We’ll simply continue being friends—”

  “Oh, please,” she sighed, interrupting him. “Do you honestly believe I’m not attracted to you?”

  He glanced sharply at her then returned his attention to his driving. “You’ve made it fairly obvious that you don’t want me to touch you. In fact, at first you didn’t want to have anything to do with me at all. I all but begged to get you to accept me as a friend.”

  She was silent. She couldn’t tell him that she had been afraid of his charm, afraid that she would fall in love with him, because she’d done exactly that. Finally she turned her head to look at him, his perfect profile etched in silver against the darkened window, and her heart gave that funny little leap that she’d come to expect. Was he asking her to believe that dreams came true? It was hard for her to trust, to let anyone get behind the emotional barriers that protected her from hurt. She didn’t think she was the type who could recover from one heartache after another, bouncing right back to take another try at true love, trusting that eventually everything would work out. Claire loved too deeply; it took her too long to recover from heartbreak.

  She wasn’t a gambler, but she didn’t see that she had much choice. She couldn’t walk away from him now. Her heart had known it almost from the beginning, and now she acknowledged it in her mind. She had to try again; she had to reach out or despise herself for the rest of her life. Max was worth the risk, and perhaps she might win.

  “I’m very attracted to you,” she finally said, her voice so soft that he wasn’t certain he’d heard her. His head jerked around, his eyes narrowing, and she steadily met his gaze.

  “Then why have you held me away?”

  “It seemed safer,” she whispered, tightly knotting her hands together in her lap.

  His chest expanded as he drew in a deep breath. They were near her apartment building, and nothing more was said as he parked the car. The silence extended, then he reached out and gently drew her into his arms. She didn’t see his head coming down, but she felt the warmth of his body close to her, the controlled strength of his arms wrapping around her, and then his mouth was on hers. Her head tilted back to fully accept him, and her lips parted softly, her response slow and tender. He took her mouth in the same way, taking his time about it, not bruising her soft flesh. The way was open for his tongue, and he probed her mouth, feeling the quiver of her body at the deepening intimacy of the kiss. He held her closer, arching her to him, and another quiver ran along her body at the sweet, heated pleasure of feeling her breasts pushing against his chest. A small groan rose in his throat. With a sure, experienced motion he covered her breast with his hand.

  Her hands clenched his sleeves, her fingers shaking. Max lifted his mouth from hers and began nuzzling her jawline, seeking the delicate fragrance of her skin. He tasted her flesh as he went, discovering some of the soft places that had been driving him wild for a week: the small hollow below her ear, the length of her neck, the ultrasensitive hollow above her fragile collarbone. And all the time her small, firm breast nestled in his palm, the nipple already peaked, inviting a more intimate touch.

  “Put your arms around me,” he said, his voice one of quiet demand. He wanted to feel her clinging to him, all weak with wanting. She fit into his arms as if no other woman had ever been there; he wanted it to be the same way for her. He wanted her to hold him, feel how perfect it was, their two bodies pressed together. Slowly her fingers released his sleeves, and her arms slid upward. One twined around his neck and the other around his shoulder. A shuddering breath eased out of her.

  Slowly he massaged her breast, taking care not to hurt her or to scare her by losing control and grabbing at her. His own breathing didn’t sound quite steady, and he knew that he had to stop or lose control. He wasn’t accustomed to celibacy, and since he had met Claire, his only lovelife had been in his imagination. Reluctantly he eased away from her, his body on fire with a burning hunger that bordered on violence. He would have to get himself under control before he dared make love to her. She was so soft, so fragile; he didn’t want to take the chance of hurting her, and he was very much afraid that he would.

  “It’s time to call a halt to this, while I still can,” he admitted ruefully, his sharp, knowing gaze taking in the dazed look of passion on her face. Delight filled him that Claire wasn’t a cold woman, merely a deeply reserved one, and she was finally responding to him.

  His words recalled her from the warm, drifting world of physical pleasure where he had carried her, and she sat up straighter, her glance darting away from him, her hands going up to smooth her hair, as if by tidying herself she could deny what had just happened. Max took her hand and carried it to his lips. “Don’t,” he whispered.

  He got out of the car, walked around to open the door for her and helped her out, his hand under her elbow as she maneuvered the long skirt she’d worn to the symphony. His arm went around her waist as they entered her apartment building and remained there during the short elevator ride to her floor. Some of Claire’s distress at herself began to fade. His attentiveness was doing something to her, slowly making her feel more certain of herself, and it was like the first hesitant flutterings of a butterfly’s new wings.

  He checked her apartment then came back to her. The usual lazy, good-humored smile was on his lips, but his eyes were vivid and intent as he bent down to kiss her again. “I won’t stay, not tonight. I want you to be comfortable with me, and frankly, my self-control is wavering. I’ll see you tomorrow night. How formal is Mrs. Adkinson’s dinner party?”

  Claire remembered Leigh’s inclinations well. “Very.”

  “White dinner jacket?”

  He had been wearing a white dinner jacket when she had met him exactly a week ago, and her senses gave a brief whirl as she recalled the way he had looked, with the lights caught in his golden hair like a halo, his eyes as brilliant and glowing as gemstones, the white jacket molded to his broad shoulders. She hadn’t been the same person since that night.

  “That would be perfect,” she said. He didn’t know how perfect.

  He kissed her again and left, and Claire went through the motions of getting ready for bed, but her mind was drifting, floating, recalling every sensation, every moment of his kisses, his touch on her breast. Her natural human need to be touched had been suppressed for a long time by her driving need to prove to herself that she could be independent, but now her body was aching and burning as it came alive after being dormant for so long. She lay in bed, and she dreamed of him.

  The gown she wore to Leigh’s dinner party the next night was almost nine years old, but she had seldom worn it before, and it was one of those simple styles that couldn’t be dated. It was black velvet, with only a little fullness to the skirt, and the bodice hugged her lovingly. It wasn’t particularly lowcut, revealing only a hint of the beginning curve of her high breasts, but it was held up only by two thin straps, leaving her shoulders and back bare. Jet earrings dangled from her ears, and she wore no other jewelry. Her mirror told her that she had never looked better, a