Almost Forever Read online

  He fit in easily with her family, joking and conversing as effortlessly as he had before. They didn’t know that this congeniality was a disguise for the driving power of his true personality. She watched him, but didn’t talk to him except to answer direct questions and she sensed that he was watching her, too. She’d thought that he’d given up, but now she remembered telling Martine that he wasn’t even familiar with the term. He hadn’t given up—he’d simply been waiting. He calmly wrote down her unlisted telephone number, copying it off the telephone, and when he looked up to find her watching him, he lifted an eyebrow in silent invitation for her to make an issue of it. Claire simply turned away to continue her chores. Attacking him now over a telephone number would make her look like an ungrateful wretch after he’d worked tirelessly most of the day, helping her get settled.

  It was late when everything was put in its place, and everyone was yawning widely. Rather than attempt the long drive back to Houston that night, her family had elected to stay in a motel and drive back the next morning. Somehow Claire found herself waving goodbye to them from her new porch, with Max standing beside her as if he belonged there.

  “Why did you come here?” she asked quietly, watching the taillights disappear down the street. The warm night sounds of chirping insects and the rustle of leaves in the trees from a slight breeze surrounded them, where only a moment ago there had been laughter and noisy yawns and enthusiastic cries of “Bye! Take care now. I’ll call you tomorrow!”

  “To help you with your things,” he said, holding the screen door open for her as she reentered the house. She didn’t trust his bland tone for a minute. “And to make certain that you’re comfortable. Nothing more sinister than that.”

  “Thank you for your help.”

  “You’re welcome. Is there any coffee left in the pot?”

  “I think so, but it is probably undrinkable by now. You drink too much coffee, anyway,” she said without thinking, going into the kitchen to pour out the stale coffee. He stopped her as she was beginning to make a fresh pot.

  “You’re right. I don’t need any more coffee,” he said, taking the pot out of her hand and placing it in the sink. Grasping her elbow, he pulled her around to face him. “What I need is this.”

  His other arm went around her waist, bringing her up against him, and he bent his head. His mouth closed over hers, and the hot, heady taste of him filled her. He kissed her with deep, greedy hunger, until a painful hunger of her own began to coil in her body. Both angered and alarmed by the desire he could arouse so effortlessly, she jerked her mouth from his and pushed against his shoulders, feeling the heavy muscles beneath her palms.

  To her surprise he let her go easily, releasing her and stepping back. Satisfaction was plain in his eyes, as if he’d just proved something to himself. He must have felt her response; for a brief moment she hadn’t been able to prevent herself from melting against him, her body seeking his.

  “I wish you hadn’t come,” she whispered, her dark eyes locked on him. “Why involve yourself with my family? How do I tell them that you aren’t Max Benedict, after all?”

  “You don’t have to tell them anything—they already know. I’ve explained it to your mother.”

  Shocked, Claire stared at him. “What?” she stammered. “Why? When did you tell her? What did you tell her?”

  He answered readily enough. “I told her that the takeover of Bronson Alloys by my company has complicated our relationship, but that I transferred you to Dallas so we would still be together and could work out the problems.”

  He made it all sound so simple, as if he hadn’t abandoned her as soon as he’d gotten the information he wanted! It was true that he hadn’t been expecting the phone call that had forced him to return to Dallas, but it was also true that he hadn’t made any attempt to contact her after that until the actual mechanics of the takeover had put him back in Houston. Now, in his typical high-handed fashion, he believed that all he had to do was move her to Dallas and the “complications” would be settled.

  Her expression was so troubled, for once so easily read, with all her doubts and hurt there for him to see, that he had to fight the urge to pull her against him and shelter her in his arms. Max had never known failure with a woman he wanted; they came easily into his arms and his bed, and they had always been so easy to read. It was ironic that Claire, the one woman he couldn’t easily understand, should be the woman he wanted more intensely than he’d ever dreamed he would want a woman. He couldn’t tell what she was thinking—her defenses were too strong, her personality too complex. Yet every glimpse he had of the inner woman only made him hungrier to find out more about her, to get deeper into her mind. Looking at her now, with her clothes grimy from the day’s labors, her hair straggling down from its topknot, her face free of makeup and her velvety dark eyes full of pain and uncertainty, Max felt something jolt in his chest.

  He was in love with her.

  The realization stunned him, though now that he recognized it for what it was, he knew that the feeling had been there for some time. He had labeled it as attraction, desire, even challenge, and it was all of those, and more. Of all the women in the world, he hadn’t loved any of the soft, willing beauties who had shared his bed and would have done anything for him. Instead it was a difficult, aloof, yet extraordinarily vulnerable woman who made him feel as if he would explode with joy if she smiled at him. He wanted to protect her, he wanted to discover all the hidden depths of her character, he wanted to lose himself in the unexpected and shattering passion she had to offer.

  Claire moved away from him, rubbing the back of her neck tiredly and not seeing the arrested expression on his face. “How did you explain your change of name?”

  It took a minute before he could gather himself and make sense of what she had asked. “I told her the truth, that I had been looking for certain information and didn’t want Bronson to know my true identity.”

  Claire thought Alma was so charmed by Max that she would be prepared to believe anything he said. “What did she say?”

  An appreciative smile quirked Max’s mouth as he remembered exactly what Alma had said. That lady did have a way with words, though he could hardly tell Claire that her mother had said, “If you hurt my daughter, Max Benedict, or Conroy, or whoever you are, I’ll have your guts for garters!” Claire didn’t seem to realize how fiercely protective her entire family was of her.

  “She understood,” was all he said, watching Claire as she retreated even more, continually expanding the distance between them. She was so wary!

  “I’m sure she did,” Claire sighed.

  Impatiently Max closed the gap between them, his quick strides carrying him to her side. Claire looked up, startled by his sudden movement, then gave a soft cry as he put his hands on her waist and lifted her up so her eyes were level with his. “Yes, your mother understood—it’s a pity you don’t!” he muttered, then put his mouth on hers.

  There was a tiny, despairing cry deep inside her mind. How could she keep control of herself if he kept kissing her? Especially kisses like these, deep, hungry kisses, as if he couldn’t get enough of her taste. His lips released hers and slid down to her throat, nipping at her skin as they went. He held her so firmly that his hands were hurting her, and she didn’t care. Her eyes closed firmly, and tears welled beneath her lashes.

  “Why do you keep doing this to me?” she cried rawly. “Do you just chase anything that runs? Did it hurt your pride that I told you to leave me alone?”

  He raised his head; his eyes were burning green fire. He was breathing harshly. “Is that what you think? That my ego is so enormous I can’t stand for a woman to turn me down?”

  “Yes, that’s what I think! I’m a challenge to you, nothing more!”

  “We burned each other up in bed, woman, and you think it was nothing more than gratifying my ego?” He put her on her feet, infuriated that she continually put the worst interpretation on his actions.

  “You tell