Almost Forever Read online

  “Let me go,” she whispered.

  “You’re not in any shape to drive. You haven’t eaten all day, and you look as if you might faint at any moment. I’ll drive you home,” he insisted.

  “I wouldn’t go with you to a dogfight,” she said, using her last ounce of defiance. His grip slackened, and she pulled free, taking the chance to walk out of the office without him. It might be the only opportunity she had, and she was too upset to tolerate any more. Another minute and she would be weeping, completing her humiliation.

  Her hurried steps carried her out of the building and to the parking lot. It was still raining lightly, but gusts of wind battered her, and flashes of lightning in the low-hanging purple clouds lit the darkness with momentary brilliance. The storm intensified the darkness, making the efforts of the streetlights seem ineffective. Her heels tapped sharply on the wet pavement as she ran to her car. She reached it and stopped to unlock it and only then heard the footsteps behind her. Cold terror washed down her spine, and tales of rape and robbery flooded her mind. Grasping her keys like a weapon, she whirled to face any assailants, but there was no one close to her. On the other side of the parking lot Max walked to his car and got in, and Claire sagged with relief.

  Her hands were shaking as she opened the car door and slid behind the wheel, cautiously locking the door again. What if it had been a mugger or a rapist? How many articles had she read that warned women against going to their cars alone at night? She’d been foolish to let her emotions push her into a dangerous situation, and she drew a deep breath. She had to get control of herself.

  She was still shaky, and the rain made the streetlights reflect dizzyingly on the wet streets. She drove with extra care, not wanting to risk an accident. She didn’t notice the car behind her until she turned down the street to her apartment building and the other car turned, too. Nervously she peered into the rearview mirror, trying to tell what kind of car it was, but the headlights were right in her eyes, and she couldn’t see anything. Was she so on edge tonight that she was becoming paranoid? Quickly she found a parking place and pulled into it, deciding to wait until the other car had gone on before she got out.

  But the other car slowed and pulled into the empty parking space beside her. It was a black Mercedes, and the man driving it had golden hair that gleamed like a halo in the silvery artificial glow of the streetlight.

  Still shaking, Claire leaned her head on the steering wheel. He was determined to talk to her, and she was beginning to realize that he didn’t give up once he’d decided to do something. How had she ever thought him civilized? He was as ruthless as any Viking, and she feared him as well as loved him because he would destroy her if she didn’t find a way to keep him at a distance, to protect herself with indifference.

  He tapped on the window, and she jerked her head up.

  “It’s raining harder,” Max said, his voice muffled through the glass. The rain beaded and ran down the windshield, emphasizing his words. “Let’s go in, dear. You’re going to get soaked if you wait much longer—I think a new storm is coming in.”

  She flinched at the endearment, amazed at how easily it rolled off his tongue. How many other women had been fooled by his glib lies?

  He wasn’t going to give up and go away, and she was too tired to sit out in the car indefinitely. Gathering her wavering strength, she got out of the car and carefully locked the door, then hurried up the sidewalk without looking at him.

  He stretched out his arm and opened the door for her and was right beside her in the elevator. Claire clutched her keyring, keeping it ready. Damn him, why wouldn’t he give up? What did it matter to him, anyway?

  Catching her wrist firmly, he relieved her of the keys and opened the door, stepping inside to turn on the lights and pulling her in with him. He released her wrist to close the door, and tossed her keys onto the small table that stood by the door, her catchall table that she had found in a flea market and refinished. Fixedly she stared at the table; it wasn’t a Queen Anne, like the one in his foyer. She remembered the way he had lifted her onto that elegant Queen Anne table and moved between her thighs, and for a moment she thought she really might faint, after all. Her legs felt wobbly, and there was a faraway roar in her ears. She sucked in a deep breath, hoping the extra oxygen would steady her.

  “Sit down,” Max said roughly, propelling her toward the couch. “You look dead white. Are you pregnant?”

  Stunned, she stared helplessly at him, sinking down onto the cushions as her legs folded beneath her. “What?” she gasped.

  “You haven’t eaten. You’re pale. You’ve lost weight, you feel ill.” He enumerated all the things that had been haunting him since that explanation had first blasted into his mind. “Did you think I wouldn’t notice that Sam opened the window for you this afternoon? Why would you tell him and not me?”

  “I haven’t told him anything,” she protested, thrown off balance by his line of questioning. “I’m not pregnant!”

  “Are you certain? Have you had your period this month?”

  For the first time that night color flooded her cheeks. “That isn’t any of your business!”

  His face was grim as he stood over her. “I think it is. I didn’t protect you that night—any time that night—and I don’t think you’re on the pill. Are you?” Her expression was answer enough. “No, I didn’t think so.”

  “I’m not pregnant,” she repeated doggedly.

  “I see. You’re simply on a diet, is that it?”

  “No. I’m exhausted. It’s as simple as that.”

  “That’s another symptom.”

  “I’m not pregnant!” she yelled, then buried her face in her hands, aghast at her loss of control.

  “Are you certain?”

  “Yes!”

  “All right,” he said with sudden calm. “I apologize for upsetting you, but I wanted to know. Now sit there while I get something for you to eat.”

  The last thing she wanted was something to eat. She wanted him to get out of her apartment so she could fall facedown on her bed and sleep. But she couldn’t chase him out, because her legs were lead weights, and suddenly it wasn’t worth the effort of getting up. She sat there staring blankly in front of her, wondering how she could have been so stupid as not to have considered the possibility of a pregnancy, but the truth was that it hadn’t entered her thoughts at all. Nature had assured her that she wasn’t pregnant, but she hadn’t thought of it even then. It was a good thing, because she wasn’t sure she could have borne the added stress. What if she had been pregnant? Would it have been all right this time? Would she have held her own baby in her arms? Max’s baby, with golden hair and eyes like the sea. Suddenly pain shot through her, because it wasn’t to be, and she wished it could have been.

  She was so completely exhausted that to continue sitting upright was asking too much of her body. With a quiet little sigh she sank back against the cushions of the couch, her eyelashes sinking down as if pulled by a force she couldn’t withstand. With the suddenness of a black curtain dropping down, she was asleep.

  When Max came back into the living room with a tray loaded with a selection of sandwiches, a glass of milk for Claire and a cup of coffee for him, because he was hungry too, he was braced to receive all her hurt accusations, but he was also ready to stay there all night, if necessary, to explain his side of it and convince her that they had something special between them. Then he saw her curled against the cushions, one arm folded in her lap and the other hanging to the side in that limp way that indicated deep sleep. Her hand was lying palm upward, her fingers curled slightly, and he stared down at the peculiar, innocent vulnerability of her open palm, so soft and pink. Memory seared him. Sometime during the night they had spent together, during one of those frantic, greedy matings, he’d taken her hand and carried it down his body, and every muscle in him had jerked in reaction to her gentle fingers closing around him. He jerked now in reaction to the memory, his body growing hard and sweat popping out o