This Matter Of Marriage

Prologue

"I realize, Elizabeth, that this is neither the way things are done or should be done, but would you do me the great honor of marrying me?"

I sat in my sister's living room and stared at the man kneeling before me in complete and utter bewilderment.
How did this happen? I barely know the man, for heaven's sake.
In this day and age, a marriage based on such a superficial friendship such as we had is absolutely ridiculous--not to mention the fact that neither of us was in love with the other or even pretended to be. Ever since I was a little girl, fairy tales and romantic stories have been my favorites. I have spent hours imagining my wedding, my home, my children, and my husband. And the first and most basic criteria I had for him was that he must love me more than anything. Maximilien D'Arcy was asking to be that husband-and we'd never even been on a date.

Chapter 1

Max was thirty-five, eleven years older than I was, and was widowed with a daughter of four. He was also the co-owner and president of the hugely successful company Pemberlie (named after the family estate in Louisiana), a very popular producer of fashionable men's clothing as well as lingerie. A strange assortment, is it not? Max and his sister Georgette had started the company, the combination of Georgette's skill and imagination in designs and sewing, and Max's determination, his contacts, instincts and his pure cussedness in business matters serving to boost them on their way to millionaire-land, where they had been for some time now. They had even begun to have fashion shows, which can be seen on CBS at the beginning of every season. Georgette's slightly outrageous fashions coupled with a deep respect for classic styles have made their line of both women's and men's clothing stunningly successful.
Max had been seeking a divorce two years ago when his wife was killed in a car accident while returning to her lover's home after a party. Leonie does not remember her mother, who was never around. Amanda Jessup D'Arcy had never wanted children, and as soon as it was possible, she abandoned the child to nurses and nannies and went back to her shopping, lovers, and parties-- that were not always drug free. Max was home little at that time, busy promoting the business, and so it was some weeks before he realized that something would have to be done. He hired my little sister, LJ (short for Lydia Jane, which she despises), who is a junior at Columbia University, to look after Leonie's entertainment and help her with the outside world. The little girl had a nanny who would look after her in the morning and at night, but during the day, it was LJ's job.

Leonie was never any trouble for anyone; she was very sweet, very quiet, very well behaved, and despite her young age, she was terrified that someone else would abandon her as her mother had done. She was very badly hurt by that, despite her young years. During her classes, LJ left Leonie in my care, (I write for a magazine at home) and at other times, the two of them asked me along on their expeditions or came to my house. My apartment is very child-friendly--I used to baby-sit all the time and I love children, so my nieces and nephews (my brother Keith is married) and my best friend's children often come to visit. I have toys for all ages, and Leonie soon took to me. LJ even used to say that Leonie loved me more than she loved LJ. It was mutual, Leonie being everything I could want in a daughter. After it became clear to her that we loved her, she became freer in her behavior, and would toddle around and shout and sing and be a normal child. We listened to a lot of music, and Leonie became quite fluent in the songs of the sirens of the 30's and 40's. Her favorite was Ella Fitzgerald, though she did learn 'La Vie En Rose' completely, with the most adorably awful accent.

As Max became less entangled with business, he became more involved with his daughter. I am pleased to say that he adored her, and that it was mutual. The only person she loved more than me was 'Da', and she would shriek this happily whenever she saw him. Max would meet up with us sometimes at playgrounds and at all of Leonie's nursery school functions (per se). He insisted on being a part of her life.

As Max had time to look around him, he was forced to examine and admit his wife's behavior, which was nothing short of scandalous. After Leonie's birth, she had been seen with lover after lover. Max eventually hired a private detective to confirm the rumors, which occurred in short order. It seemed rather ironic to me that the prenuptial agreement the two signed during their engagement had been at her father's insistence to protect her money, which by the time of the divorce was all gone. Max contacted her lawyer and suggested settlements that were more than generous; she had been his wife for only three years and there was no evidence that she had ever been faithful. Amanda was holding out for more.

However, that week, Amanda went to a party, drank too much, and drove over the side of a bridge while returning from her lover's apartment. It was sad, but very convenient for Max. It appeared that others thought so, too. For a while rumors circulated to the effect that he had planned his wife's death because her alimony demands were too high. This was ridiculous, of course, and the rumors started by her lover Greg Weeks soon died down. Max, however, had lost whatever softness he had possessed before the affair. I regret to say that he lost all trust in the female of the species.
While I don't know about his sex life, I do know that the only grown women he would voluntarily come near generally were his sister Georgette, LJ and me. I am not certain why this was, but as he just asked me to marry him, it would appear that any doubts he had are gone.

Chapter 2

Now that you have the background information, let me just add that Max is gorgeous--six feet three inches, with an athlete's body. He is very, very hard all over, and has this prowling sort of walk that can send either shivers of anticipation or shivers of unease through one, depending on his mood.
I regret to admit that with me, it is always shivers of anticipation, as he has never seen fit to intimidate me. If I agree to marry him, one thing's for sure-I will enjoy having him in my bed every night!
He has dark, rather long hair that he ties back with a leather thong, black eyes, a thin, high-bridged Gallic nose, chiseled cheekbones and a slightly squared jaw. He is frankly the sexiest man I have ever laid eyes on. He also wears a small diamond stud in his ear, which makes him look vaguely like a pirate.

On the other hand, I am average height, five feet six inches, curvy in a mild way (this is a kind term for what Hollywood and the fashion industry call 'fat') even though my breasts are average. My best features are my unusual hair, which is cut in layers to just below my shoulders and the color of red-gold; and my eyes, which are forest green with a charcoal ring around them--both evidence of my Scotch-Irish heritage. I am, all together, quite ordinary.

Now why, you are no doubt asking yourselves, should such a dish of a man settle for a marriage of convenience with a woman of no fortune and only average looks? Well, let's ask him.

"Max, I don't understand. Why do you want to marry me? You cannot pretend you're in love with me. And I don't have anything that you could possibly want." He smiled and his dimples came out. (Damn! I can never think straight when he does that. I will bet he knows, too. Grrr.)

"Elizabeth, I will not insult your intelligence or mine by answering that. You cannot possibly be that naive." (Wait a second--is it just me, or does it seem that he wants me? Wants me, as in, my 'sexy body'? Uh huh. Right.)

"Uh, would you mind elaborating a little on that?" He smiled again. (That should be against the law! I mean, how can a girl consider a very strange proposal if he keeps looking at her like that?)

"Elizabeth, I desire you. You are a very beautiful woman, and I have been very attracted to you ever since I saw you. Why do I not just ask for a date? For starters, I am older than you are--eleven years older. And I think you would make a wonderful mother for Leonie--she already talks about you 24/7. What is more, you have a concept of loyalty, honor, and integrity that I find both admirable and rare. Of course I want to marry you." (Register more bewilderment and add to that complete shock) "Elizabeth, why are you looking at me like that? If you don't wish to marry me, say so." I continued to stare at him. "What is it? Surely you know you are beautiful and desirable?" I shook my head. He stared back at me. "Well, you cannot be a virgin, so you must have been told before." I shook my head. "You haven't been told?" I shook my head again. Then his expression changed to one of consternation. "You aren't a virgin, are you?" I nodded. "You are?" I nodded again. He leaned back into his chair and let out a 'Whoosh' of sound. "Well, this changes things a bit, doesn't it?" I nodded, and, finally able to speak, said

"Yes, a bit."

"I'm sorry if I startled you, it just never occurred to me that a woman with your looks and sophistication in this day and age would still be a virgin at twenty-four."

"Well, I am."

"Mind if I ask why?"

"No, not if I end up marrying you. I value my body, and I have always viewed my virginity as a gift that I will give to my husband. I have never viewed sex as a recreation sport, and I've always thought that it is important to save oneself for one's spouse." I shifted a bit uncomfortably under his amazed look.

"Unbelievable," he murmured. "You must marry me. I did not know women such as you still existed." Okay, so he is impressed. I suppose that is a good thing; most men laugh or try to push. I said as much to Max, and he looked murderous. "Who pushes? How dare he?" I thought this was a little too possessive for a friendship, and under my confused gaze, he subsided. "Sorry," he said, running a hand down his face, "I don't usually do cavemen impressions. In addition to the facts that I desire you both as my wife and as a mother to my daughter, I would also add that I admire immensely your mind and that you are original and imaginative. Leonie tells me her version of the fairy tales you tell her; you should write a book!" I laughed.

"Unfortunately, there have been many books written about the fairy tales I tell!" He smiled, but seemed unconvinced.

"Do you need time to consider?"

"Yes, I think I do. You see, along with the expectation of giving my virginity on my wedding night, I always expected to be married to a man who adores me. That is what I've always wanted, and I need to think about whether it's a good enough trade for what you're offering."

"I understand, Elizabeth. However, you must know that there are things that make up a good marriage more important than love. For example, trust, integrity, respect, shared values and shared interests. Without those, a marriage will die no matter how much love there is."

"I know that, Max, and that is what I am trying to compare. I always figured that I would get all of them. It all seems a little cold-blooded. I realize that I'm a 'cock-eyed optimist', but I need some time to consider." He stood, and smiled at me.

"Of course, Elizabeth. Please let me know when you have decided." I smiled and rose with him.

"Thanks Max. I will let you know. One more thing-how do you feel about fidelity?" He turned, and his eyes were frozen, though not because of me.

"I will never submit to an open marriage, and I respect the vows that are made in the marriage ceremony. I will never be a complacent husband, one who winks at his wife's affairs and has his own. I was faithful to my wife when she was alive, and I will be faithful to you. One of the things I learned the hard way is that trust and integrity do not come with a marriage license, or with eternal vows of love. I loved Amanda when I married her, and she claimed to love me, and our marriage was doomed from the beginning." I smiled tremulously. This man was really offering me the best he thought he could give.

"I've decided, Max." He swung around again to stare at me hopefully.

"Already?"

"Mmhmm. However, I have a few conditions. I would like a long engagement, or, if you want to be married right away, I want to wait to consummate the marriage until I am sure we have more of a relationship. Understand, I have waited a long time, and I want it to be perfect. Also, I would like to take care of Leonie myself--with LJ too, if Leonie wants, but no live-in nanny. I work at home, and I love her, so if I am to be her mother, I will be her mother." Max studied me for a minute, and then replied.

"I thank you both on my daughter's behalf and on mine for all the energy you have expended over the past two years for her. I would like to be married soon. I regret that you don't feel comfortable sleeping with me now, but I understand the desire for it to be perfect--and I will do all I can to make it so. I will certainly not force you or demand anything until you are ready. However, I reserve the right to try seducing you. Agreed?" I smiled and nodded, secretly pleased that he wanted to seduce me.

"One more thing, Max. I don't want my family knowing that this is not a love match, because they will worry, for starters, and because they will get upset and interfere, and just be difficult. I don't want to lie to them, but I get a little cowardly when I think of what they'd say about me marrying a man who doesn't love me."
Max paused before answering me, then said,

"All right, Elizabeth. I don't mind that." He stepped closer to me, and took my chin in his hand, tilting it to his face. He studied it for a moment, and then lowered his lips to mine, his eyes open. He brushed his mouth against mine lightly and stepped back, reaching into his pocket. "It was rather wishful thinking, but I brought a ring I thought you might like. We can get another one if you want, you don't have to wear this one." He opened a rather worn black velvet ring box to show a slim yellow gold band with a marquis-cut cinnamon diamond. I stared at it in awe, and Max said, rather nervously, "It was my mother's, and it reminded me of your hair." I looked up.

"I love it, Max! I will happily wear that ring until I die." Just then, an unpleasant thought hit me. "Amanda didn't . . ." He shook his head.

"No, she wanted a new ring with a rather vulgar diamond. I suppose that should have been my first clue. My mother did wear this until she died; she gave it to me when she was in the hospital for the last time. Georgette got her other jewelry that does not belong to the family, but my mother left this for me. She said it symbolized the love she and my father had for each other. I cannot think of anyone who has more love than you do." In this rather convoluted speech, I recognized a compliment, and I smiled mistily at the thought of the older woman giving her son this ring that had been first given in love. I had to bite my lip to hold back my grin as Max slipped the ring on my finger. When he stepped back however, I threw my arms around him and hugged him, laughing.

"Thank you, Max! I love it, and I promise I will take good care of it." I had to bite back the urge to say, 'And I love you!' It was all that was missing from this scene.

Chapter 3

Well, telling my family was the hardest part, despite my protestations, and Max's possessive and affectionate gestures. My father was worried (thought silent) and my mother kept looking at me with a creased brow and anxious eyes. LJ thought it was smashing, and kept giving Max appraising glances, then looking at me and winking. LJ does not have the same ideals I do, and she has frequently made fun of my 'old fashioned ideas'. She informed me in a whisper that I would certainly enjoy my wedding night. I haven't told anyone of my conditions, so I just smiled and nodded.
My brother Keith and his wife Judith arrived late to the family meeting, and it had to be started all over again. Keith is older than I am by five years, and he has always been protective. Afterwards, he cornered me in the kitchen and asked me in troubled tones if I was certain I knew what I was getting into.
In truth, I am not, but I smiled serenely and told him I was very happy. His fears dissolved and he hugged me and wished me happiness, luck, and love. When I looked up, Max was at the doorway to the kitchen, looking at me with the oddest expression on his face. I smiled, and held out my hand. He came and raised it to his lips, then turned to Keith.

"Bedford." Keith took Max's outstretched hand.

"D'Arcy. Congratulations. You're getting the best girl in the world-- don't tell LJ I said so, but Elizabeth's one of a kind." Max smiled.

"I know. And I promise you, I appreciate her originality very much." Keith nodded, as if he expected as much, and then got on to the important stuff.
(You always read of this happening, but I didn't think it happened outside of romance novels--yes, I read them--but it did!)

"However much I like you, D'Arcy, if you make her unhappy or hurt her in any way, you can expect to find me on your doorstep in short order--with a tank." Max nodded and grinned.

"Don't worry, Bedford. I value Elizabeth much too much to harm her." Keith nodded again, grinned, and they shook hands again, friends once more. (I don't believe I will ever understand men!)

The wedding was set for a month later, at the end of September. Fall is my favorite time of year, and as Max wanted to be married as soon as possible the date was set for September 28th. A huge wedding was out of the question, but we had a medium sized one, with about 200 people in attendance. Leonie was thrilled to be a flower girl, and even more thrilled that I would be her mother. As soon as Max told her, she started calling me 'Mama'. I love it. Even though this is something of a marriage of convenience, Max will corner me in places and kiss me until my head spins. (It does not take much.) Do you know, I think he is trying to seduce me! It is working, too. Damn that man! Obviously, I put too much trust in my abilities to resist him.
The wedding went off without a hitch--I have to say, it was a lot of fun! I was the belle of the ball (of course) and I felt like a queen. I had a gorgeous dress--Max insisted on paying for any dress that I wanted--so I chose an ivory silk gown by an Italian designer. It was very, very flattering, making me look like an innocent seductress. (It's the best image I can describe) It was very sexy without being revealing--in fact, its very sexiness depended on what was hinted at rather than what was shown. It was plain, with a square neck that showed no cleavage. It was sleeveless and the back came down to just below my shoulder blades. It had a natural waist, and it was floor length, cut on the bias just slightly, skimming my legs and making them look even longer.
The best description I can give of the effect it had was that Max's eyes bulged slightly and his chin dropped when I started walking down the aisle. It was very, very gratifying.

When I tossed my bouquet, LJ caught it, looking very surprised, but I saw her sneaking glances at Max's best man and best friend from college, Charles Bryant. Good luck, LJ!

Chapter 4

"Elizabeth!" Max called for me, standing at the bottom of the stairs. "The reception is starting. Ready?" We were at the Hilton, where the reception was being held. I appeared at the top of the stairs, still in my wedding dress, Leonie at my side. Max grinned. "You both look absolutely gorgeous." Leonie and I looked at each other and smiled. She took my hand and we went down the stairs.

When we got there, Leonie ran off to find my mother, and I started to follow. Max had other ideas. He swept me up in his arms and practically ran into a nearby room, which I never saw, because as soon as we were in it, he backed me up against the door and started kissing me: deep, hot, desperate kisses. I was startled at first, because he hadn't kissed me like that before. He stopped as he realized I was not responding, and rasped,

"Put your arms around me." I had no objections, so I slid my arms around his neck, burying one in his hair and letting the other one stroke the back of his neck.

"Is this the seduction?" I asked, laughing. He stared at my mouth, quite serious.

"Kiss me?" I stared at him. He sounded almost vulnerable, and I saw a shadow of uncertainty in his eyes. Why, I couldn't figure out, but I smiled and stood on tiptoe to press my lips to his. He stood stock still, as if startled. I softened my lips and brushed them lightly against his, then deepened the kiss. I opened my lips and let my tongue dance along the seal of his lips, nipping at the bottom one. My tongue darted over to caress the corner of his mouth, and he opened it. However, his tongue didn't come to meet mine--so, I began to explore his mouth, running my tongue over his teeth, sucking his bottom lip. At that, he rumbled deep in his chest, and his arms were so tight around me I could hardly breathe. He was responding now--his tongue danced and parried with mine until we were both breathless. My knees were so weak that Max and the door were the only things holding me up. He tore his mouth away and leaned his forehead against mine. We both panted for breath, and then I tried to tug his mouth back to mine. He tried to chuckle, but failed.

"Darling, I don't suppose you'd like to change your mind and have a real wedding night?" I stared at him, torn. It was very nice to be desired so strongly. (Oh God, I want to!) I looked into my husband's (!) eyes and said,

"I would probably enjoy it very much, but I can't. It doesn't feel right yet. I am sorry." He smiled ruefully.

"I didn't think so. Don't worry--cold showers are easy enough to come by. To tell the truth, I am glad that you will not go to bed with me just because we desire each other. While I would like very, very much to make love to you, it is rather reassuring that you view it so seriously." I stared at him, amazed.

"You can think?" He stared back at me, and then roared with laughter. I was blushing and stammering. "I didn't mean that the way it came out. But that was so involved, and I'm still . . . oh, never mind!" He finally subsided, and said,

"I'm glad my kisses make you dizzy. Come on, they'll be looking for us." He helped me smooth my hair and shake out my skirts, and we went to the reception.

We didn't leave the reception as early as everyone expected us to--for obvious reasons. As we were not going home to make love, staying in public was a good idea, for both of us. All my clothes, books, and things had been moved to Max's, and he had moved stuff to fit mine. Eventually, we would share the huge king bed in the master bedroom. Fortunately for my peace of mind, Amanda had never lived in this house, and she had never seen any of the furniture. Max had bought the penthouse last year, and all the furniture. However, he gave me carte blanche to change anything I wanted. He liked my taste. I liked everything, so I just put up my favorite pictures, and hung my clothes in the larger of the two closets in the bedroom. A housekeeper came in once a day to cook and clean, but that was it. There were two other bedrooms, one Leonie's and one served as an office. Max moved my desk in there, and insisted on buying me a new computer. I have to say, it's nice to have a rich husband who ador . . . I mean, who admires you.

The bedroom was very plain and masculine, with cream walls and a large walnut wood bed. There was a man's dresser and a large leather chair. That was it. The room was bigger than the living room--it was huge. Max bought another chair, and I bought a vanity table. I had always wanted one, and I put my dresser in my huge walk-in closet. My wedding present to Max, to be hung in the bedroom, was a forgery of a Fragonard--my favorite--called The Love Letter, depicting a woman at a small desk near a window reading a love letter--with a very sensuous smile. He was very pleased, and told me to buy more. I probably will! I hung some of my photographs of castles around the walls and in the living room, which was cream with light green trim, gold and green couches, and a carpet that looks like an enchanted forest. The castles fit right in. I brought my grandmother's wedding silver and china, and stored it in cupboards. I really felt just like one of those brides from a hundred years ago.

We weren't going on a real honeymoon yet, because Max couldn't be away from his office for long at that time. Besides, Max and I had already agreed that we would go for our honeymoon when it really would be a honeymoon. However, Leonie was staying with my parents and LJ for a week, so we could have some time to ourselves (i.e. so we could get in all the sex in the kitchen we wanted before we had to worry about a kid seeing us). I guess we'll just never be having sex in the kitchen--not until all the kids are grown up. Oh, God--all the kids!

Chapter 5

I was not quite sure how we would manage the sleeping arrangements until we consummated the marriage, but as soon as we got back to the apartment, at about ten o'clock (the wedding had been at four) Max pulled out a futon and put sheets and a comforter on it, followed by half-a-dozen pillows. I laughed at this, and said that if I'd known he loved pillows so much, I wouldn't have married him--I don't like sleeping on them, as they always either make my neck wrinkle or give me a crick in the neck.

"So stay on your side of the bed," he laughed back. "For a while, anyway, it will not be a concern, and at least I will not have to worry about you stealing my pillows!"

"Do I look like a pillow pincher?"

"Well…" he drawled, with a rakish grin. I huffed, and tossed one of the bed pillows at his head. He caught it (Drat him! He's too fast) before it hit him in the head and pitched it back at me. I ducked with a screech, and the fight was on.

I never had a chance, of course--he is very large and strong, and he is eleven years older, so he has had time to get mean. I ended spread-eagled on my back with him lying on top of me, my wrists clasped in his hands, and he was lying between my legs, which were spread out to the side, and surrounded by pillows. He had cheated--just when I was getting ready to duck another pillow, he tackled me instead. We lay there laughing for a few minutes as we caught our breath. It was then that we realized our position--that of lovemaking. His hips pressed involuntarily into mine as he stared fixedly at my mouth for a minute, then shook his head and hurriedly rose.

"I don't feel like going to sleep yet. Do you want to go get food and a movie?"

"Can I choose the movie?"

"As long as it will not make you cry, and there isn't any sex in it." (Whoa boy.)

"What? Why not? I was thinking Romeo and Juliet, the Leonardo DiCaprio version. There's even action in that one." He stared at me in exasperation.

"If you weren't a virgin, you'd understand." (That made me a little mad. I mean, I'm the Queen of the Romance novel! Especially the sexy ones.)

"You make it sound like a disease!" He blew out a frustrated breath.

"I only mean, if you cry I will have to comfort you, which will involve hugging, and if there's sex in it, I will be even more uncomfortable than I already am." (Ohh. I get it! He--um--I'm starting to feel this womanly power they talk about in my favorite books)

"Are you very uncomfortable?"

"Damnably. Cold showers aren't working too well."

"Oh. (What does one say to that?) Well yeah, I'm kinda hungry. Can we get Chinese? I'm having Lo-Mein cravings." He laughed.

"Sure. Do you get cravings a lot?"

"Sometimes. I've been getting more and more lately."

"Maybe you're pregnant," he said flippantly. I glared at him.

"That wasn't funny."

"Sorry."


Chapter 6

The next morning, Max was up before I was, and had made breakfast. (That is, he ran out for pastries, and made coffee.) Nevertheless, I was perfectly happy. I had my choice between a chocolate covered Boston-crème donut, a huge apple turnover, and a muffin that seemed mostly blueberries with large sugar granules on top. It was a tough decision, so I ate the Boston-crème and the muffin, and I am saving the turnover for dessert. Max thought my deliberation very funny, and he kept up a running commentary.

"And it looks like the muffin, folks! But--no! She is reaching for the donut! Oh, the suspense!" until finally I offered to move his coffee--into his lap.

"How come you're in such a good mood this morning?" I asked a little grumpily. This was not the way I had imagined the morning after my wedding. I always thought that I would spend a good week in bed with my husband, making up for lost time, and I was rather wistfully trying to imagine a week in bed with Max, and that it could have started already.

"I will give my whole fortune for those thoughts," he teased, with a lecherous grin as I blushed. "Why are you so cranky? Our wedding was yesterday. I thought the blushing bride gimmick lasted for at least a year."

"That is the problem--most brides are also wives by now. This is just not the way I ever pictured spending the morning after my wedding; that is all." To his credit, Max didn't make the immediately obvious comment of, 'Well, that is easy to fix' and I could tell it cost him. He winked and beckoned.

With a grin, my good humor mostly restored, I rose and went to sit in his lap as I finished my donut. Max nipped at my fingers and my bottom lip as I ate, but there was nothing serious in it. When I was done, I sipped his coffee, then said,

"Don't I get a good-morning kiss?"

"It would be a pleasure," my husband replied gaily, and kissed me.

(Oh no! What a dumb thing to do!) My husband's good-morning kiss was the most seductive of all. It didn't ravish, it wasn't desperate. Rather, it was tender and affectionate, with a hint of the passion that lingered under the surface. As soon as I could marshal my brain cells, I pulled away and pasted a smile on my face.

"Do you have to work today?" Max nodded.

"Nothing major. I have to be in the office for a few hours to settle some paperwork. Do you want to come? Do you have work to do?" I thought for a moment.

"Well, I thought I'd do this month's article on the embarrassing events at the wedding. Every woman, so I am told, goes through it, and I think it would go over well."

"Do you have to be here to do it?"

"No, I just need my laptop."

"Then come with me. You can borrow part of my desk, and it will be nice and companionable." So it was settled.

First, Max insisted on taking me to lunch at this cafe in the theater district, which took a long time. The food was good (if expensive) and I enjoyed the time with Max. Then we went to his office, where he introduced me proudly as 'My wife, Elizabeth.' I got a lot of envious looks from the female contingency, and appraising ones from the males. Max took my arm, glaring at some of the males who went so far as to make comments as to my general shape (favorable ones), while I smiled sweetly at the women. (There's nothing as obnoxious as a sweet, sweet smile to people who are envious--it makes them feel like cats)

Max's office was spacious, with a view of the nicer city buildings and a small park across the way with a rather ugly statue in it. The trees were pretty, though, and I said so to Max. He shouted with laughter and said,

"That artist is in fashion now, but I have to agree with you." He hugged me. "I want you to be free to tell me anything, Elizabeth. Don't censor that delightful mouth of yours, ever. Promise?" I nodded dutifully, and he kissed my cheek and got me a chair.

I had lots of good material for my article, and it was flowing smoothly and it was funny--it really was. It was perfect until I heard Max mutter a curse and glanced up to see him running his fingers through his hair. (No! Don't! Let me!) I gave him an enquiring look, and he smiled sheepishly.

"Sorry, you're very distracting." I got up, unsure if I should be flattered or irritated.

"Oh! Well, I can do this as well outside." He stood with me, and said quickly,

"No! The last thing that I want you to do is leave. Besides, I think it would be almost as bad. It's not your fault (except for breathing) it's just there are many other things I'd rather be doing now, with you, than this idiotic paper work." I smiled, my ego soothed, and stood behind him, rubbing his shoulders.

"Poor baby, you're all tense." He rolled his head back, eyes closed.

"Oh, that feels good. Thank you." I bit my lip, feeling guilty. I knew why he was so tense, and preoccupied. He had promised to be faithful, and I wasn't making that easy for him. Not for the first time, I wished that my scruples were less, but wishing doesn't do much good. So I concentrated on giving him a good massage. When there were no more knots in his shoulders and neck, I kissed the tip of his nose and said,

"Well, if you can't work, may I read you my article? Tell me what you think, and if I've left anything out."

As I read, he laughed, chuckled, and finally pounded the desk in his mirth when I told about his best man getting drunk and spilling his glass of champagne on LJ, who was sitting down, making her think that it was raining. (She was drunk too.) However, when she put up the umbrella she had brought with her, she caught Charles in the chin, knocking him into Carol-Anne Burton, a mere acquaintance whom I do not like but had to be invited. He, grabbing at anything to stop his descent, grabbed the front of her gown, which promptly tore all the way to the floor. Luckily, she had a slip on, but there was absolute chaos. We left at that point, almost helpless with laughter, leaving the mess to the others.

"Well?" I asked anxiously. "Do you think I described it well enough for readers? I don't want it to be one of those 'you had to be there' things." Max, still chuckling, wiped a tear from his eye and said,

"I am not the best person to ask, but I think it's even funnier hearing your account of it than it was seeing it. I will call Joy, and we can ask her." He rang for his secretary, who came in promptly. Max introduced the two of us, and told Joy our problem. She was a nice woman in her mid-fifties, and she seemed to find my article even funnier than Max did. When I finished reading, and she finished laughing, she said,

"What magazine do you write for? I'm getting a subscription." I was surprised, but flattered, and told her, but offered to bring in the magazines I get free by the bushel. She accepted, and we were friends.

Chapter 7

That night, though Max wanted to go out, I pleaded fatigue and offered to make fettuccine alfredo, and told him he could have half of my turnover for dessert. He was properly grateful for this, and so we chatted lightly and teased, our intimacy growing. After dinner, I sprawled on the bed with an historical romance novel as Max finished up his work in the dining room. I was totally engrossed and was just getting to where the hero and heroine, who are in love, make love for the first time when I felt a hand stroking from my knee to my lower back accompanied by a nip on my ear and heard a voice say,

"What'cha readin'?" I rolled onto my back and showed him the cover, complete with a shirtless muscular man and a woman in a dress with a torn bodice and skirt, both with sultry expressions on their faces. The woman's head was tilted back in surrender, her eyes closed, as the man kissed her neck. One good thing about romance novels is that the heroines never get hickeys unless they need them, which is rare.

Max stared at it for a few moments, and then looked at me, eyes heavy lidded, and I could see that the banked fire that usually burned in his eyes had burst into flame.

"Wanna try that?" He asked, with a hopeful expression on his face. I looked at him, and I could feel my pulse beat faster. I know he could see it, too, for he took my shoulders and lifted me up so I was standing. Then he sat, and he put me sitting sideways on his knees. Then, supporting me with one arm, he tilted me backwards until I was half-reclining in his embrace, so I was dependent on him to keep from falling. With burning eyes, he dipped his head and brushed feather-light kisses on my eyelids, my ears, and the corners of my mouth. He traced my face with his fingertips slowly, as if memorizing the texture of my skin and the placement of every freckle. Then he dipped his head again and pressed his lips gently to the pulse beating at the base of my throat. I shivered and lifted my arm to sift through his silky hair, wondering at the strength of the sensations running through me. I had a feeling somewhere in the back of my mind that I should stop this, it wasn't fair to him, but it took so long to get through the fog of my brain. Luckily, before things went any farther, the phone rang. We both jumped, and I leaped off Max's lap, blushing furiously.

"Oh! I'm sorry," I said. "I . . ." I shook my head and ran for the phone. "Hello?" It was LJ.

"How's the honeymoon goin'? I didn't interrupt anything, did I?" She asked, with an almost tangible nudge and wink. I sighed.

"Fine, and yes you did." I didn't feel like sparing her feelings. "But it was probably a good thing."

"Huh?" She asked, confused.

"Nothing."

"He was taking out the whips and chains, huh. Well, if you don't go for that, I could always fill in." I wish she would stop making remarks like that-they make me uncomfortable. I said as much. "Whoa! OK, big sis is a little touchy today!" I sighed again.

"LJ, what do you want?"

"After the honeymoon, do you guys still want me to watch Leonie?" I thought about that.

"Yeah, probably for a few hours a day. She loves you, you need the money, and I will need some time off from being a mother."

"Awww, you'll make a wonderful mother."

"Thanks. I love her to death, but I am a little nervous about it."

"Have you talked to Max about this?"

"No. It's stupid, but I don't want him to have second thoughts about me."

"Honey, from the way he looks at you, that man isn't going anywhere."

"You think so?"

"I know so. Remember Carol-Anne Burton? Well, at your wedding shower two weeks ago, she cornered him in a closet. Charles says that Max had quite a time extracting himself, and that she tried to seduce him-in the closet. Max thinks she had too much champagne, but we both know that is not why. Charlie says that Max was so mad when he got out of that closet that he was ready to call security and have her thrown out-but he didn't want to ruin your day." I stared at the wall and thought about this new information. It made curls of warmth unfold in my stomach, and my heart got all fluttery.

"Really, LJ? He didn't tell me."

"Well, of course not! It's your honeymoon. Who wants to talk about Carol-Anne?" I laughed.

"Good point. Not me! I'll see you later, LJ."

"Bye! Have fun with those whips and chains!" I shook my head and hung up.


The next morning, Max said,

"Don't forget the party at the Embassy tonight. It starts at nine." I stared at him.

"Dammit! I completely forgot. Black tie?"

"Of course. I'm sorry, I'd say we don't have to go, but we do. The Ambassador and his wife are very old friends of my parents', and it's important to them that we should be there."

"No, that is all right. But I will have to go shopping. I literally have nothing to wear for it."

"Fine. Your credit cards and checks came today, and I put your allowance in your checking account."

"My allowance?"

"Oh, I'm sorry. I forgot we didn't talk about it. Elizabeth, there's twenty thousand dollars in your account."

"WHAT?"

"Isn't that enough?"

"Max, I cannot spend that much money in one year if I am not paying bills!"

"That is your monthly allowance." I stared at him in complete shock.

"Max, how the hell am I supposed to spend that much money? That is almost half of what I make in a year. And I am used to saving one third of that!" He smiled at me, and came to lift me from my chair, sat in it himself, and placed me on his lap. He wrapped his arms around me.

"Elizabeth, I make a lot of money each year. Not only is there Pemberlie, there's the shipping company, and the plantation, and the investments, and then the family money. We are very rich. We endowed each other with all our worldly goods. The clothes that you will need as my wife will cost money. And it does not matter what you spend it on, or if you spend it. The bills and the food come out of my account. You can do what you want with your allowance. Now, do you want me to come shopping with you? I have a very good eye." I laughed.

"I don't think I want to subject you to that this early in the relationship." He laughed too.

"Don't worry; I know exactly what I am volunteering for. Come on. We'll check out Fifth Ave." He took my hand, grabbed my jacket and my purse, and dragged me out the door.

I was having so much fun! We went into exclusive boutiques and huge department stores, searching for the perfect dress. I had refused to wear black, and Max agreed that was a good idea. Finally, we found it. It was heavy forest green silk, strapless, with velvet trim around the bust and the hemline. There was a fluid quality to it, rather like green honey. The shoes to match were a dull gold with green rhinestones on the straps and the heels. When I looked in the mirror, I saw an elegant woman looking back at me-one firm in the knowledge of her position and her femininity. I smiled slightly, and stepped out of the dressing room to show Max.

He stared at me, his mouth opened slightly. I twirled, and said,

"What do you think? I love it!" He nodded.

"I do too. But don't you think, maybe a shawl . . .?" I laughed.

"Why? It's gorgeous." He glowered at the neckline.

"I am feeling possessive. It's fine for me to see you like that, but if I take you to a party, the sharks will be gathering." I smiled and hugged him exuberantly.

"Oh, Max! Do not be a bear. I am a newly wed! We are still on our honeymoon. No one is going to think they can entice me away from you." He smiled reluctantly, and stroked my bare shoulder.

"You look beautiful, Elizabeth. Sorry." The dress and the shoes were wrapped up, and Max would not let me pay for them. "No. It's our first party together, and I want to buy it for you." He wouldn't listen to arguments.

That night, as I sat at my vanity table finishing the confinement of my hair into a French twist, Max came up behind me, in his tuxedo. He rested his hands on my shoulders and kissed my fingers as I pushed a pin into place.

"Close your eyes," he said. I concurred, puzzled. A second later, I felt something warm and heavy settle around my neck. I reached up to touch it and my eyes flew open. There, circling my neck was a gorgeous necklace of spun gold and emeralds in a leaf pattern. I turned to look up at my husband, who was grinning like an idiot. I jumped up and threw my arms around his neck, almost shrieking.

"Oh, Max! It's beautiful. The most beautiful thing I have ever had! I have always adored emeralds. You are the most amazingly generous husband ever." I stepped back a little, returning his idiotic grin.

"It suits you," he said gruffly. "It was my mother's, and my grandmother's. It has been the bride-gift in my family for several generations." I felt even more honored.

"Thank you," I said, sitting down again, and squeezed the hand resting on my shoulder. "Oh! My goodness, we're late!" Max looked at the clock and frowned, then shrugged.

"Oh well. Do you have a wrap?"

Chapter 8

As we sat in the car driving to the embassy, which was on the Hudson River, I had time to get nervous. I had never been to one of these parties before, and I was worried about embarrassing Max-he deserved more out of this marriage than a wife he couldn't take out. I sat twisting one of my long gold satin gloves, worrying. Max glanced over at my hands, and I tried to still them, but I needed an outlet for my feelings. He reached over and took one of my hands in his.

"Don't worry, Elizabeth. It'll be fine. You're a natural." I smiled weakly, and said,

"I hope so. I just do not want to embarrass you." Max started, jerking the wheel. He cursed, and focused on the road again.

"Elizabeth, you couldn't possibly embarrass me. You know what to do: just smile politely and talk small talk. People love you-you can't go wrong." I sat up a little straighter, pleased with his confidence in me. Max pulled into the gated drive of the embassy, and stopped the car, turning to look at me. He put one hand under my chin and tilted my face up. "The first time I went to one of these parties, I mentioned that a powerful politician was there, with his mistress. What I didn't know was that I was talking to his wife." I gasped, and giggled. He smiled ruefully. "Yeah. Ouch, huh. Georgette, in her debut year, tripped over the mayor's foot. She grabbed him to retain her balance, and they both fell in the punch bowl." By now, I was laughing outright. "So you see? There's nothing you could do that would be worse than those-and you are much more graceful than Georgette, and more careful in speaking than I am." He came around to my door and opened it for me, then assisted me with my gloves. "We'll be fine. And because we're newly-weds, no-one will think it odd that I hover over you, so I will be able to give you clues." I smiled at him gratefully.

"Thanks Max. I am all right now." He smiled back and tucked my hand in his arm.

"You were always all right, Elizabeth. And now I am getting there, too."


The Ambassador and his wife were very friendly, and delighted to meet Max's new wife. Helene, as she insisted I call her, had been very close with Max's mother, and wanted to tell me stories of him when he was small. The Ambassador, Etienne, was very gallant. As his wife spirited me away, he turned to talk with Max about investments. Helene brought me around and introduced me to several couples as "Elizabeth D'Arcy, darling. Max's wife." I got several venomous looks from the women, and several admiring ones from the men. As we strolled away, Helene whispered with a giggle,

"My dear! Did you see their expressions?" I nodded.

"I don't think they like me much." She patted my arm.

"Not to worry. They wouldn't like any woman that Max married. They all have hopes of torrid affairs. As for the men, they are jealous-of Max. Just don't let any of their barbs get through your skin-I would pit you against Carol-Anne Burton any day, and she is by far the worst of the lot."

"Carol-Anne! Is she here?" Helene nodded.

"Yes, unfortunately. Her grandmother and my mother were friends, and so we must invite the family. She has been after Max for years. They do say," she tilted her head closer to mine and lowered her voice. "They do say that she showed up naked in his bedroom, and he called security to have her thrown out! He didn't even give her time to dress! He was so furious with what he called her 'blatant disregard for the innocence of his daughter' and her 'appalling conceit that he would fall in lust with her and marry her for her body' that he ignores her every time they meet. It's one of the most talked-of matters this year!" I groaned.

"Carol-Anne and I went to school together. I cannot stand her, and she tried to seduce Max at my engagement party. In a closet." Helene gasped.

"No! Did he have her thrown out again?"

"No, because it would have upset me, caused a lot of fuss, and ruined the party." She sighed romantically.

"Ah, young love! It is plain he adores you, my dear. However did you manage it?" I looked at her, startled. "Don't look at me like you're surprised! You cannot have missed it. Max tells me you're a writer-aren't they supposed to be very observant?"

"You would think so," I said dryly. "Max has never told me he adores me; in fact he told me he wouldn't be able to. He married me because he admires me, and desires me. He says I am honorable and courageous and that these qualities are rare, especially in women." Helene clucked her tongue.

"That poor boy! Amanda really damaged him. Anyone could see he didn't really love her. And she! She just wanted the social entry he could give her. I had to invite Greg Weeks, too-he was her lover, you know. At least, he was the last one. Heaven only knows how many there were." I sighed.

"But you see, you must be mistaken. The only one Max adores is Leonie." Helene looked at me shrewdly.

"But my dear, you adore him, don't you?" I started.

"I . . . well, yes. I'm beginning to." She nodded happily.

"Max doesn't know how lucky he is to have you!"

"Oh, yes he does," a deep voice came from over my shoulder. I whirled to see my husband standing there, with a peculiar look in his eyes. I flinched, wondering how much he had heard. "How did you make out with the sharks, Elizabeth?" He asked with an indulgent smile.

"She came through with flying colors!" Helene tossed in, proudly. "And I do not think you know how lucky you are. You will have to prove it." Max smiled.

"Yes, ma'am. I will do my best." At that, he turned me in his arms and kissed me.

"Mmmphh!" I said, very surprised. I could feel his smile, but it quickly faded as he stroked my back with one hand, the other moving down to cup my buttocks and to press my hips against his. He licked the seam of my lips, and I opened them. He forged in, making little forays in and out. Tentatively, I reached mine out to answer. He made a noise of satisfaction, and held me even closer as we explored each other. Oh! Those lips, that tongue, should be immortalized. Every woman should be kissed like this. My arms wrapped around his neck, one buried in his hair, and his hand on my bottom forced me up on tiptoe and rubbed me against him. I could feel his arousal pressing against the juncture of my thighs, and I sank into him. Just before things got really carried away, Helene tapped us both on the shoulders to remind us that we were in the middle of the embassy ballroom, with hundreds of people gathered around, staring. I blushed and tried to pull away, but Max wouldn't let me. He grinned rakishly at the crowd, then down at me. I had to smile back. He is such a scoundrel! I have never been so mortified.

"Very well," Helene said, "I am convinced. He knows how lucky he is." Max began to laugh, and Helene joined in. Finally, I couldn't resist, and laughed too. I rested my forehead against Max's lapel as I fought to control the burning in my cheeks. He bent down and whispered,

"That was close. If she hadn't stopped us . . ." I knew what he meant. There was only one thing that would have happened, and it would have gotten us arrested for public lewdness. Finally, we separated, smiled at our appreciative audience, and Helene led us into dinner.


Chapter 9

We were all going back into the ballroom for the dancing when I saw a familiar face.

"Georgette!" I called. "Max didn't tell me you were going to be here." Georgette and I have been friends since LJ and I started taking care of Leonie. She is very nice, very pretty, very funny, and very talented-and because of that, very rich. She is eight years older than I am, but we are quite good friends. She was one of my bridesmaids at the wedding. She laughed.

"I didn't know I was going to be here. But Helene called and told me that you and Max were making spectacles of yourselves, and that if I wanted a chance to see my older brother smitten, I had better hurry." I laughed.

"Yes-he kissed me right in front of everyone." I said, trying to sound irritated. She gave me a teasing glance.

"And from what I hear, it was quite a kiss." I blushed, and she laughed. "Anyway, I've already eaten. Why don't we go out on the terrace? It's a beautiful night, and you can even see some stars." (This is very rare in New York City)

The embassy terrace was only a few feet higher than the water level, and there was a dock nearby. It was in a less-traversed part of the river, so it was quite peaceful. The water, always a dark gray-green, looked black in the darkness. I shivered, my over-active imagination putting mini-Loch Ness monsters and water snakes, not to mention bodies and sharks into the water. Consciously, I knew that was nonsense-I have been swimming in the Hudson ever since I was six and passed the deep-water test, and the water is quite clear in most parts. Unfortunately, it wasn't doing any good. Georgette and I leaned on the low stone railing and looked out at the water, chatting about this and that. We could hear a motorboat nearby and people yelling and laughing on it, and as I glanced at it casually, Georgette said,

“Ooh, it's a little chillier than I expected out here. Shall we go in?” I smiled at her, and agreed. She preceded me into the hall leading back to the ballroom, and with one last look at the beautiful night, I began to follow, when I heard the motorboat again, quite a bit closer than I should have. All of a sudden, there was a CRUNCH and the laughter turned to screams.

Georgette and I stood transfixed as the boat began to sink. I could see three people on it, and two were striking out weakly for us. The third appeared to be unconscious. I knew that as the boat sank, it would exert a slight suction--keeping the man below the surface long enough to drown. I grabbed Georgette's arm and twisted her to face me. She was white, in shock. I shook her, and said fiercely,

“Go find Max and Helene. Get them to call the police and the paramedics. Tell Helene to find blankets and clothes. Quickly!"

With one last glance, she ran for the ballroom calling for Max. Trying to forget about the imaginary population of the river, I took off my shoes and my gloves, tucked my skirt into my garter belt to keep my legs free, and dove in. I struck out towards the sinking boat, the other two passing me. I stopped, treading water, and told them to go into the embassy. They nodded, and went on.

I reached the boat while it was still mostly above water. I went to grab the man and jump in, but then I realized that he would be a dead weight, and he was unconscious. If there were life jackets, I could do a better job of saving us. So I hunted for them. I finally found one in the cabin, near the desk. However, there was more--about a hundred little zip-lock bags of white powder. I grabbed one and stowed it in one of my stockings, under my dress. I took the ship's log, stuffed it into another plastic bag, grabbed the life jacket and went back on deck.

By the time I got back to the terrace, I was exhausted. Even with the life jacket, it was hard work towing the man through the water. The wind had increased, and waves were forming. I did not even want to think what had happened to my makeup, and my dress! It was ruined-no question. There were men waiting to pull my charge and me over the railing. As soon as I was over, Max grabbed me and pulled me tightly against his chest as I shivered.

"Oh, God, Elizabeth!" I pulled free just long enough to pull my dress out of my garter-belt, and then threw myself back into his arms. Georgette came up with a blanket and some brandy, which I took gratefully, swallowing it in one gulp. Max handed her the ship's log in the plastic bag. He wrapped the blanket around me, and rubbed my loose hair with it. The water was cold, as it always was--especially now summer was over, and the wind was biting. Helene told Max to bring me inside and she would get me something to wear. He swung me up in his arms and strode into the house, and up into her bedroom. (It was kind of Gone with the Wind) Helene opened a huge armoire and took out a flannel robe with fur trim (a funny combination, I thought) and told Max to get me into it. She brought out towels from the bathroom, and had an idea.

"Max, put her in the shower. It will warm her up more quickly than anything." He nodded, and carried me into the bathroom. He removed the blanket, and the remaining pins in my hair. Then he unbuttoned the fifty tiny buttons at the back of the dress and peeled it down. He tossed it out the door to Helene, who called that she would see if it could be saved. He was looking me up and down in concern. I was a little piqued to note, as I was clad only in stockings and a garter belt, that he seemed oblivious to my charms, when his gaze stopped.

"Elizabeth, what is that bag?" I started, having forgotten completely about the powder.

"Oh," I said, my teeth chattering, "I think it is cocaine. There was a lot of it on that boat, and I wanted to get it checked out. I took the ship's log, too-you gave it to Georgette." He smiled ruefully.

"I was a little preoccupied, and I still am. Hold still." He knelt at my feet and unhooked the garters, peeling my stockings down. I was blushing all over, but he was quite impersonal. His eyes were still dark with concern. I bent and handed him the bag of powder, and stepped into the shower. It felt like heaven-hot water beating down, easing the acid buildup in my tired muscles. I used Helene's shampoo and conditioner, and scrubbed myself all over to get rid of the river water and the shivers that still threatened. Max was pacing outside, and I could tell he was getting angry. "Elizabeth, how could you? You put your life in danger. And didn't you fail your lifeguarding course?"

"Max, I couldn't leave him there. By the time anyone arrived, he might be dead. I did what I had to do." I heard him sigh heavily and sit on the closed toilet seat.

"I know, Elizabeth. I just cannot stop thinking about what could have happened. It's driving me crazy. You needed me, and I wasn't there." I stuck my head out from under the shower to see him rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands.

"Max, you didn't fail me, if that is what you're thinking. You would have been in time to save me, if I had needed saving. Don't be angry with me, or with yourself. You couldn't have known what would happen." He was looking a little anguished, and I felt a spark of hope in my heart. Maybe he was starting to love me. He looked at me, and I could see the effort he made to push away his upset and focus on me.

"Darling, you look exhausted," he said in concern. "Hurry, I want to get you into bed as soon as possible." I gave him a lecherous grin and raised one eyebrow. He smiled weakly, and said, "Not yet. I am not going to seduce you in your weakened state. Are you done?"

I turned the water off and stepped out of the shower, where Max was waiting with towels. I would have taken them from him, but my modesty had been suspended by my exhaustion, and he would not take 'No' for an answer. He rubbed me down with the towels, and squeezed the water out of my hair. Finally, using Helen's brush, he blow-dried it.

Max refused to let me walk-he claimed to be still upset over me endangering my life to save someone who was probably mixed up with drugs. He was, poor baby, and wanted to take care of me to assuage his guilt over not being there when I needed him. I didn't bother correcting him; it was lovely. He put me in the flannel furry robe, and put slippers on my feet. Taking the bag, he picked me up again and carried me downstairs to where the police were waiting.


Chapter 10

When Max finally took me home, I was so exhausted I had to prop my eyes open with my fingers whenever they started to close. It felt like there were lead weights on my lashes. Max carried me into the apartment, still wrapped in the blanket, and deposited me on the bed. He put me under the sheets and pulled them up. My eyes were already closed and I was very nearly asleep, but I could feel his intense gaze on my face. I forced my lids open to smile reassuringly at him, and I reached out one hand for his. He took mine and kissed it, holding it in both of his. Knowing that he was there watching over me made me feel more protected than I ever had before; sort of warm and coddled, but from the inside. (Well, if he does not love me, at least he cares for me in someway.)

The next day, Max was still at the apartment when I awoke at eleven. He handed me a mug of coffee when I wandered into the kitchen in my robe.

"Do you want me to stay with you today?" He asked. "I can cancel things." I looked at him, touched.

"No, don't worry about me. Nothing bad happened. I am fine, really." He nodded, looking a little relieved, I thought. My curiosity piqued, I asked, "What do you have planned today?" He shrugged, looking nonchalant.

"I have a lunch to go to at 1.45."

"Business?"

"Mmhmm. Then I need to do some work on restructuring the management in one of the store departments." I nodded.

"OK. I thought I would finish unpacking. Do you know when you'll be back?"

"Around six twenty or seven. Do you want to go out?"

"Nah, I'll cook again."

"Have fun." He kissed my cheek and went out the door.


At two twenty, I got a very strange phone call from Georgette.

"Elizabeth," she said, in a cautious tone, "I just saw Max. Did he tell you who he was having lunch with today?" I was startled, and confused.

"No, he just said it was business."

"Ah," she said noncommittally.

"Why? What does it matter? He said he'd be at the office later to work on the restructuring of some department at the store." Georgette didn't respond.

"Georgette," I said, a curl of unease spreading through my stomach, "With whom did you see him having lunch?" She was silent for a moment longer, then said,

"What did Max tell you about his activities when Amanda was still alive?"

"What do you mean? I assume he was working on the store."

"No, I mean his romantic activities." That curl of unease was turning into full-blown panic.

"He said he'd always been faithful to her."

"Ah," she said again.

"Georgette! What is this about? If Max lied to me, you'd better tell me what you know. You were my friend before you were my sister-in-law!" She gave a weighty sigh, clearly torn.

"Well, Max was not entirely honest with you. Once Amanda refused to sleep with him anymore and went back to her lovers, he began a relationship with Krista deMomerie. It has been going on ever since. I assumed that since he seems smitten with you, that he had broken it off." I felt like I was going to be sick.

"Georgette, is he having lunch with her?"

"Yes," she said after a pause. "Just her. At a table for two in a dark corner of the restaurant."

"What restaurant?"

"A tiny one, casual, near Soho. And Elizabeth, I don't know anything about a management restructuring. He usually keeps me informed."

"I see," I said, "Goodbye, Georgette. If you hear any more, please tell me. I'd rather not be the last one to find out my own business."



I did not spend the day unpacking as I had said. If I were going to leave, what was the point in having to pack all over again? After being miserably unable to do anything but pace and eat convulsively, it occurred to me that there was something I could do.
I called Helene and asked if I could come over. She agreed immediately, and I called a cab. I was sure that she would tell me the truth about Max; she was in a position to hear all the gossip. She was the one to ask.

"Helene," I said, rubbing one thumb with the other as I do when I am nervous, "What is this I hear about Max and Krista deMomerie?" She started and looked slightly guilty.

"What do you mean?" she asked cautiously. I smiled without humor.

"You know very well what I mean. About their affair." She sighed and sat back.

"Are you sure you want to hear this?" I nodded. "Well, I for one was sure he would marry her once he was free of Amanda." I felt all the color ebb out of my cheeks and my heart lurched at this bald statement.

"I see," I said at last, feeling that sick nauseous feeling in the back of my throat that makes you want to lie down and die. "And is it still going on?" Helene gave a Gallic shrug.

"After seeing the two of you last night, I would say he has no need of another woman in his bed." My heart sank even further into my shoes.

"But Helene," I said softly, "I am not in his bed. Or rather I am, but he is not." She stared at me.

"Whatever do you mean?"

"I mean that he is not in love with me. He wants a good mother for his daughter, and he admires and desires me. I am a virgin, and he wanted to get married soon, so I demanded that we not sleep together until I was satisfied that we had a real relationship of some sort." She stared at me silently. "Not only that, but he told me that he was faithful to Amanda all the time they were married. However, it seems that everyone knows about his relationship with Krista; so he lied to me. How do I know that he won't be, that he isn't being unfaithful to me as well? Georgette called me, because she saw Max and Krista in a dark corner of a tiny restaurant in Soho. He told me he had a business lunch, and that he was going to restructure management in some department. Georgette had no idea." Helene's eyes were full of pity.

"Elizabeth, I am so sorry. I had no idea. I do not know if their affair is still going on, but I can try to find out." I thanked her, very subdued. "Do you want to stay for tea?" She asked.

"No, thank you. I need to figure this out." Helene nodded sadly.

"I understand. If you need anything, please call. I like you for yourself, quite separately from being Max's bride." I smiled weakly at this show of loyalty and left.


Chapter 11

Waiting for Max to come home was the longest time of my entire life. I went out and walked around Manhattan aimlessly, trying to get rid of my nervous energy. My stomach was full of snakes, and I didn't know what to do. Should I confront him directly when he came home? Should I make sure of my facts and then do it? My head whirled with conflicting thoughts. At least I did not sleep with him. Huh--cold comfort. Oh, God! Why did he have to do this? Why did he lie to me? I would have understood about Krista. After all, he married me, not her. Then a horrible thought occurred to me. Max already knew that Krista did not mind having an affair with a married man, but that I would never do that. What if he was going to keep her on the side, because he wanted both of us? My heart clenched tightly. My God! I don't know what to do. I DON'T KNOW WHAT TO DO!

When I returned to the apartment Max still was not back. I looked at the clock; it was almost seven. He had never been that late before. We were still supposed to be on our honeymoon for heaven's sake! Was he with her? What were they doing? (Dumb question) I tried in vain to prevent images of them together from appearing in my head. I did not know Krista, but she would have to be beautiful. Max had good taste, generally. (That soothes my ego slightly) I could see his large, heavily muscled body lowering gently over her soft pale body as he kissed her and whispered love words into her ear as he made a place for himself between her legs and . . ." (NO!) I shook my head trying to dislodge the obscene sight, almost crying with the rending sense of loss that tried to overwhelm me. I looked around frantically for something to distract me, and saw my copies of the BBC and A&E Pride and Prejudices. I ran to the bathroom and started to run a bath, throwing in a bunch of different aromatherapy and oils.

"OK, eucalyptus and mint for relaxation ginger for mental stimulation, lavender for emotional soothing, and sandalwood because I like the smell." The room smelled a little funny with the combination, but whether it was my imagination or not, it seemed to work. I positioned the TV so I could see it through the door and put the A&E in the DVD player. I sat back and began to watch.

Two hours later, I was considering my bad luck. I had wanted a Mr. Darcy and despite the rather alarming similarity of names, MY D'Arcy had turned out to be a Wickham! I felt like some comfort food so I got out of the bath to rummage around and find the huge 2.5 lb box of Belgian dark chocolates that LJ had given me at my wedding shower (at which I had gotten more slinky lingerie than appliances, but oh well.) I love dark chocolate. Three hours after that, when the movie was over, I had gone through the entire box. And Max still wasn't home.


I balked at the idea of calling Georgette, many things could have happened. He could have been mugged, or even murdered! Even now, New York City is not a good place to be alone in after dark. I finally gave in at twelve. Even if he were with Krista, he would have called and told me not to worry. So far he had called me every night to ask what I wanted to do for dinner, or to tell me that he would be ten minutes late. And after last night and this morning when he was so protective and concerned, for him to forget my very existence was not in character. I had myself pretty worked up, so I broke down and called his sister--and one of my closest friends.

"Georgette? It's Elizabeth. Max isn't back yet, and he hasn't called or anything. I am starting to get worried." I repeated my thoughts on his safety, and on his reliability. Georgette seemed a little skeptical, but she agreed that it was out of character.

"Max was sincerely frantic last night, and he was genuinely concerned about you. He mentioned to me that he was going to try to hurry along the investigation into the drug boat so you would be safe. He thinks you put yourself in danger last night." One more of my illusions shattered at this.

"When did you find out about the drug boat?"

"Why, Max called me at about one o'clock and told me." Georgette sounded surprised. "Elizabeth?" She asked, after a moment when I hadn't responded. "Oh, God--didn't you know?" I shook my head, and then realized that she could not see me over the phone.

"No, I didn't," I said rather dejectedly. "Georgette, he doesn't love me at all, does he."

"Of course he does!" She replied bracingly. "Why do you think he married you?" I laughed harshly.

"He wants me. He told me that from the first. He admires my principles and he thinks I would make a good mother for Leonie." There was an appalled silence from the other end of the line.

"Oh," Georgette said weakly. Then she seemed to gain strength. "Elizabeth, that is ridiculous! Why would he tie himself for life to someone he was not in love with?" I laughed again.

"Georgette, he doesn't believe that such a thing as love between a man and a woman exists. And you know perfectly well that he isn't tied to me for life if he doesn't want to be!"

"Nonsense, Elizabeth. Max doesn't believe in divorce. With Amanda, it was just a last resort and only that because he didn't want her damaging Leonie. Frankly, I was surprised when he married again; he seemed to have lost all faith in women of all kinds. You changed his mind somehow. He trusts you." I felt a little better after that.

"Georgette, I hate to ask, but could you call Krista deMomerie's house and see if he is there? I already expect the worst but I need to know that he is safe." I felt shamed by this confession, but I needed her to do this for me. She was quiet for a moment then said softly,

"God, you really love him, don't you. The lucky son of a bitch; he doesn't know what he is throwing away. All right, Elizabeth. I'll call him because you're a good friend. Whatever you decide to do about it, I want you to know that it will not change our friendship. I know Helene and Leonie feel the same way."

"Great," I said, feeling a sick inevitability steal over me, "Thanks. Call me when you know."

"I will. Elizabeth?"

"Yuhuh?"

"I am sorry about this. I cannot think what is wrong with my brother. We were brought up properly, so don't blame our parents."

"All right," I said, and hung up.


Chapter 12

I could not handle sitting around waiting for Georgette to call me back, so I began packing again. (I figure that if I need to go, I will have to go fast. If I don't go, I will have lots of time to unpack again.)

While I was placing my books into cardboard boxes, I was thinking. Unfortunately, I cannot seem to turn off my brain. I don't know what I will do if Max is at Krista's, though I cannot think where he would be otherwise! I almost hope he is, just because he won't be lying unconscious in some bushes or in a dumpster. I shivered at the image, and pushed it resolutely out of my head, along with the recurring picture of what Max and Krista were probably doing. Ugh. Why didn't I just have sex with him? I mean, we care about each other. At least, I thought we did. Then I realized that Max hadn't called me to tell me not to worry. All hopes of his caring went out of my head. My heart, foolish thing, is another story. I have to remember that it isn't the same for everyone. I could not make love without love. Some women can, and even more men can, but I cannot. Geez! He did not have to marry me! Why did he marry me? For sex? That's ridiculous! He could have just chalked me up as not in his league, and that would have been the end of it! Humph. Men. In particular, Maximilien D'Arcy. What was I thinking? I've heard a million times, marry in haste, repent at leisure. And I am sure repenting! Oh, I've had enough. I don't want to know where he is--I don't care! I don't! I won't care. God, I'm so smart. I waited all this time for love and passion, and my almost-husband is cheating on me after not even a week of marriage! Whew. Where's that chocolate?

Georgette called me almost an hour later.

"Elizabeth? Max was there earlier, but he left at seven, saying that he had to get home so you would not worry. At least, that's what Krista says." I'm not sure whether to believe Krista or not, but Georgette does, so I'll leave it.

"Thanks Georgette. Don't worry about it. Um, can you give me her phone number and address? If this happens again, I'll just call myself." Georgette gave it to me without a qualm-rather silly of her, as I could be planning to do anything! I mean I could sneak into her apartment and sprinkle itching powder into all her silk lingerie, or I could buy rats and shut them up in her pantry, or replace her soy sauce with engine oil and her olive oil with castor oil, and fill her apples with cyanide. There are many lovely revenges that I could take!

I sat undecided for a few minutes, and then I called the hospitals. I got out the phone book and went down the list of hospitals. I called each one in the vicinity with a description of Max and what he had been wearing. Nothing.
I called Helene and asked if she knew of anywhere that Max might be. She was a little irritated to be woken up so late, but when she realized how upset I was, she cooled down a lot.

She told me that Max usually stayed at home in the evenings with Leonie, as he didn't have much time during the day with her.

"Helene, I'm going out of my mind! I'm so worried. Krista says that he left her apartment at seven, so where has he been for the last five and a half hours? I've called the hospitals to see if he was brought in, and Georgette doesn't know where he is either." Helene sighed.

"Elizabeth, I'm so sorry. Do you want me to come over?"

"N-no, thank you. I don't want to disturb you anymore. I really appreciate the way you've been there for me, Helene, even though we've just met. I'm sorry to be so much trouble." Helene chuckled.

"Don't be concerned, Elizabeth. You would do the same for me, I'm sure. Call me if you need me. Goodnight."

"Goodnight, Helene. Thank you."

I was sitting on one corner of the couch wishing that I smoked when the phone rang.

"Elizabeth? It's Max."

"Max! Are you all right? Did anything happen? Where have you been? I've been worried sick. Where are you?" There was a pause at the other end of the line.

"Elizabeth, I'm at a friend's." I sat down, the first wave of relief subsiding and being replaced by a twisting of my stomach. I knew what was coming.

"I suppose Georgette told you that I was trying to find you?"

"No, but my friend passed on the message. Elizabeth, I'm at Krista deMomerie's."


Chapter 13

I hung up the phone, unsurprised. I had expected as much. The question now was what should I do about it? Should I trust my husband, and believe that he told the truth-that there was nothing between Krista and him? Or should I believe the sharp eyes of women close to him? I waved my hand, physically pushing the thoughts out of my head, and took a lesson from Scarlett O'Hara--I'll think about that tomorrow.

I went around the apartment, checking the locks and turning out all the lights. Shooting the dead bolt and keeping him in the hallway was very tempting, but what if he were telling the truth? So I locked the bedroom door instead. He could sleep in Leonie's four-foot long bed or on the couch. I was entitled to a hissy fit. I left the chocolate box where it was, for I was beginning to feel rather sick from the chocolate overdose. I brushed my teeth faithfully and climbed into bed-into the middle. And I took all the pillows. I am going to skin that man when he comes home! I wrapped the comforter around me and sprawled on the bed luxuriantly.

I was having the most wonderful dream I had ever had in my entire life. Max was there in the bed with me, and he was kissing me-those same deep, hot kisses that I had received on our wedding day. This time, however, I was naked, and he was taking advantage of it. His hands smoothed over my aching breasts and he pinched the nipples gently, making me arch up into him. He chuckled, moving his mouth from mine to my breast. It was the most incredible thing I had ever experienced-hot prickles were running between my thighs and I could feel my breasts swell in his mouth, my nipple contracting into a diamond point. And then I opened my eyes, and it wasn't a dream. He was there. He looked down at me with a question in his eyes. I lay still for a moment and then I made my decision. I squirmed and parted my legs, pleadingly, and he laughed again and moved a hand down to touch me where I most wanted it. It was shocking at first, and I cried out. I felt him shudder above me, and he whispered that I was the most incredibly beautiful thing he had ever seen. I arched my hips beseechingly, and he groaned, his mouth leaving my breast. He moved down and then I felt his tongue between my legs. It was the most electrifying thing I'd felt in my entire life, and in a few minutes Max had reduced me to a quivering, sobbing mass of jelly. He rose and took me in his arms until the spasms had passed, then kissed me on the forehead, and disappeared. Still not awake enough to understand, my eyes closed and the world went black.

The next morning I woke up in a wonderful mood, stretching and smiling as I remembered my dream. I looked towards the door then out the window. Then I started and looked towards the door again-the doorknob was missing. A horrible, sneaking suspicion made me recall my dream more closely. But no, he hadn't taken my virginity; he had made love to me with his mouth. Wait--maybe it wasn't a dream! While I was going through my frantic train of thought, the door was pushed open and Max came in, balancing a tray.

"Good morning, Elizabeth," he said calmly, and set the tray on my knees. I blushed horribly; still wondering about what I thought took place last night. Argh!! He bent down and brushed his lips across mine casually. "I made breakfast, but you were still asleep. I figured I would wake you up just before I had to leave. I have a meeting this morning." I glared at him.

"About restructuring management?" He stared at me in surprise at my venomous tone and then shook his head.

"No, this one is about why the restructuring is no longer necessary. One of my store managers has been systematically embezzling money from the company for months. I just received word the night before last. However, the man has tendered his resignation and has agreed to a plan to pay back the money." I stared at him uncertainly, not sure whether to believe him or not. In the end, I shrugged.

"Do you usually keep Georgette informed about your meetings?" He shook his head.

"No; I used to, but she never showed up. The only meetings she attends are those that affect her personally or that have to do with new merchandise or departments, and of course the annual meeting of stock holders-Georgette, me, Leonie, and now you."

I looked down at the tray and saw that he had gone all out. There were sausages and fried eggs, sourdough toast with butter, two huge blueberry pancakes, cappuccino, orange juice, and a rose in a bud vase. I looked up and smiled at him slightly.

"Thank you, it looks delicious. Is this all for me?" He smiled back, and nodded.

"Mmhmm. I have to go. We need to talk, Elizabeth. I need to tell you some things. I'll be back by 11:30."

"I have to go into the office today at eleven to talk with the editor, and then I 'm going to Helene's tea party at one, that should take about three hours, if I'm lucky. Of course, I'm a newly-wed so if I leave early Helene won't mind." I was rather uneager to talk with him. He looked at me keenly, and then nodded.

"Have a good time. It is nine now, so I need to run."

"Bye, have a good time, and I hope the meeting isn't too boring." He nodded, and then stood looking down at me as I picked up a thick sausage between my fingers and bit into it slowly. I felt him shiver, and looked up enquiringly, licking my fingers. He shuddered again, and I finally realized what it was. I quickly took my fingers from my mouth and wiped them on the napkin, blushing, and picked up the knife and fork to attack the eggs. He kissed me again and left.


While I was waiting for the water to get hot, I examined my naked body in the full-length mirror on the door, deciding that I needed to start doing sit-ups again. I looked away, then turned and stared. For there, on the delicate skin of my inner thighs, was the unmistakable mark of stubble-burn! I stood there, my face burning as I realized that I could no longer pretend that last night had been an amazing, erotic dream. It had definitely happened.

I got into the shower in a daze. Now all I had to do was figure out why he had done it. I mean, if we were having sex, it wouldn't be so odd, but he hadn't-hadn't-um, entered me. I was almost as untouched as I had been yesterday. Was he just having fun seeing how hot he could make me? However, as soon as that thought went through my head, I dismissed it. He had been as involved as I was, and I had felt the tremor of his muscles as he held himself away from me. He hadn't even spent the night in the room. So what were his reasons? And why didn't he bring it up this morning? I was too confused to think of it, so I concentrated on washing my hair and scrubbing my body all over until it was pink and tingly.

When I got out, I got into my office clothes. They were kind of fun to wear, as my regular working clothes were anything from nothing to underwear to pajamas to jeans. I wore my pinstriped skirt and my boots up to there, with the stiletto heels. They hurt my feet after a few hours, so an hour conference was ideal. I hadn't yet decided what to do in between the conference and the tea party, but I would think of something. While I waited for my hair to dry naturally, I picked up one of my favorite books-After the Night by Linda Howard, and began reading. I had noticed that I had been reading more and more romance novels since I had met Max. It occurred to me that I might be compensating for the lack of real romance. Ugh. What a thought. Maybe this arranged marriage business had been a worse idea than I had thought. I feel so vulnerable! If I knew that he loved me, and only me, I would feel much more secure in our relationship. All I can do now is tell myself that Max is a man of honor, and he has a reputation for always keeping his promises. Those vows we made to each other before God and everyone were promises. I tossed After the Night on the bed and went into the living room to watch The Wedding Planner. Gray Rouillard reminded me far too much of Max.

Chapter 14

I arrived at my meeting a little early but Charlotte, my editor, was ready for me. She informed me that she loved my piece on the wedding and she thought that it would go over well. Every woman has a wedding day nightmare.

"Elizabeth," she said hesitatingly, "I wanted to run an idea by you. How would you feel about writing an article about your change in position? You know, from middle-class respectable to upper-class glamour? And about the differences in the people in each group." I stared at her, rather surprised. I thought of what I had learned of the women I had met. Helene had told me a lot about them. I looked at Charlotte and replied,

"From what I have seen of the people and the relationships in the upper-class, I would say no. The people that I met are adulterers, crooks, very snooty, or a combination of them all. Not everyone is like this, but many are. I'll think about it and try and come up with something." Charlotte nodded, unperturbed by my insubordination.

"Of course, Elizabeth. I trust your instincts, and judging from the fan mail you get, our readers love and respect your articles. You have that spark in telling stories that is the mark of the writer. You have a knack of making the most mundane scene rich with romance, mystery or humor." I didn't know what to say but I was touched. Charlotte was a typical big-city editor, hard as nails, and she seldom handed out praise.

"A little later I might be able to do a piece on entertaining. I will have to give parties for Max's business associates and our friends once the honeymoon is over. I'm sure a story about the hassle of invitations, preparation, and hosting would make a good story." Charlotte nodded.

"Sounds perfect. Well, I think that about covers it. Was there anything you wanted to discuss?" I shook my head slowly.

"No. But I will start writing several articles, so I won't have to do them when Max and I can finally go away for our wedding trip." Charlotte smiled.

"Ah, yes. I remember my wedding trip. Ugh, what a fiasco. I managed to get the flu, and my husband was covered in calamine lotion, for his mosquito bites." All of a sudden, I had an idea.

"Charlotte! What if we had a contest?"

"What kind of contest?" She asked, surprised and curious.

"A 'Tell us your honeymoon disaster' contest! I'm sure there are many women who write a little and who had an 'interesting' honeymoon. We could print one every week next to my article and have the readers vote! Then the two best (or worst) stories would win a new honeymoon, to Barbados, or something!" Charlotte stared at me.

"That's brilliant. It's a fantastic idea. The number of women that I have spoken to who have a funny story to tell about their honeymoon is astronomical. I'll run it by the powers that be, but they'll agree to it. Our circulation would probably skyrocket, and we might find some good new writers." I nodded eagerly. "Not that you need it now," she said wryly, "But I think this constitutes a raise." I grinned. "OK, go away now. I need to work out the logistics." I laughed, not offended.

"Wonderful. Call me when you know."

"You bet I will. Oh, I can't wait!"


Chapter 15

I still had almost two hours before Helene's tea party. She had warned me to eat before I came, so I took the subway to Union Square and walked to the 'Chat and Chew,' one of my favorite restaurants. I ordered the heart-attack special, as my two best friends and I had called it since we discovered it when we were 16. It was amazing as usual, honey fried chicken with the most wonderful mashed potatoes and gravy I have ever tasted. Just to be on the safe side I ordered apple pie for dessert. As I looked down at the food, I realized that I hadn't been running recently. I can't eat like this and not exercise without gaining weight. Ugh. Oh well. I'll go running tomorrow morning. It's not as though I have an excuse to stay in bed. With a shrug, I dug in and moaned with delight as the food hit my taste buds. Considering the amount of pleasure I get from food, my friends have decided that I am a very sensual person. I don't know about that, but they know what they're talking about-- at least, they know more than I do.

When I left the 'Chat and Chew' forty minutes later, I decided to walk for a while. So I walked a mile or so in my torturous shoes to an uptown subway station and went back to the apartment to change.

Max was there when I arrived, but I evaded him and went into the bedroom to change into a soft pink skirt and a white sweater. My wedding and engagement rings gleamed on my finger, and I rubbed them absently. I put the diamonds my mother had given me as a wedding present into my ears, brushed my hair, and left it down. Max was waiting for me in the living room and said, as I grabbed my purse and the keys to the Mercedes,

"Elizabeth, we need to talk." I smiled at him, relieved to have an excuse, and said,

"Of course, darling. I'll be back by four at the latest, probably earlier." He sighed and sat down again on the couch. As I went out the door, I saw he was holding a paperback book with a red cover. It looked suspiciously like my copy of After the Night. As I drove to the embassy, I thought about that. Why on earth was Max reading my romance novel? He certainly didn't need lovemaking techniques. He knew why I liked romance novels. I'm a hopeless, or rather hopeful romantic. I shrugged and pushed the matter to the back of my mind as the embassy guards came to admit me.

I gave them my ID and they checked the photo with my face and the list that Helene had given them. It is a hassle being friends with the wife of an ambassador. Finally, the guard smiled and opened the gate. I drove through and parked where I was directed. Another guard escorted me inside the building and directed me to the salon where the tea was being served.

Helene sat at the head of the old silver tea service like a queen. The other women sat around her in chairs. As I entered Helene rose to greet me, and the chatter stopped abruptly as six pairs of curious eyes hit me. Great. I get to be the entertainment. Every woman here but Helene is dying to know how I snared Maximilien D'Arcy. They won't hesitate to ask, either.

Fortunately, Helene steered the conversation away from me, keeping it in neutral waters for some time. Then Cynthia Walden announced that she was getting a divorce. The chatter that ensued served to make me au courant with the facts that three of the women had been divorced, and one was considering it. Then Cynthia and the three divorcees told her not to be ridiculous; she wouldn't get nearly enough alimony from her husband. Her prenuptial agreement ensured that in the result of divorce, both parties would keep their own money, and she was entitled to keep any gifts her husband had given her while they were married.

"Put half your monthly allowance into high-yield savings accounts, dear," Cynthia advised, "And ask for jewels. My stockbroker has been wonderful; he deals with women in our situation all the time. Make sure you don't do anything to make your husband divorce you until you have at least a million. You've stuck it out for two years; you can last a little longer." The would-be divorcee nodded, clearly taking mental notes.

"Cynthia, would you give me the name of your stockbroker? I want to be prepared." Cynthia laughed and handed her a card.

"Here you are, darling. So Elizabeth," everyone turned en masse to stare at me. "How much does Max give you for your monthly allowance?" I stared at her, surprised both at the swift change of subject and at the question.

"Excuse me?" Cynthia's laugh tinkled.

"Oh, don't worry. Everyone will know anyway in a week or so. Men gossip even worse than women do sometimes, and Anna here is married to the head of your bank. So we'll know anyway." I shrugged.

"Probably not as much as you get. I get $20,000 a month." There was a deafening silence in the room as the women stared at me. Cynthia's mouth trembled as she said,

"Tw...twenty…twenty thhhouusand?" I nodded, confused. "What does your prenuptial agreement say about divorce?" Cynthia asked hopefully. I stared at her.

"There was no prenuptial agreement. Max says I'd better not want to divorce him because he won't let me."

"Oh," Cynthia tinkled again. "I guess he wants to keep his money." I made a noncommittal noise, but Helene broke in.

"No, actually. Max's motivation came from the fact that he's in love with Elizabeth." There was another deafening silence. I shifted uncomfortably.

"Of course," Anna said slowly, "We all saw the way he kissed you at the ball." The others nodded sagely. "And we saw how he reacted when you came out of the river," more nods. "And we saw those gorgeous emeralds which are worth more than any jewelry Howard has given me put together,"

"Those are family jewels," I broke in. "He didn't buy them for me." Anna shrugged off this detail.

"That doesn't matter. Howard tells me Max had all the family jewels reset for you, and that you have a joint checking account." I nodded again, confused by the whispers of wonder around the room.

"A joint checking account?" I nodded.

"Yes, I also have my own checking account that my allowance is put into. But Max said that if I want a car or something I should take it out of his, because mine won't cover it." More sounds of wonder. I was surprised. "Is that unusual? Max told me that that was the way things were done." Anna laughed good-naturedly.

"No, none of us have all those things. Amanda D'Arcy definitely didn't have them. She didn't get any family jewels. None of us liked her, you know. She tried to steal our husbands, and she was a back-stabber. She and that Greg Weeks went well together-both snakes in the grass. Well," Anna finished, "Helene, I would say that you are right. Only a man in love would be so trusting and generous." I moved awkwardly again, not wanting to say anything about Krista deMomerie. Emilia brought up the topic.

"And all that nonsense about Krista deMomerie. Honestly, Max is not the sort to toy with his best friend's sister." I sat up.

"Whose sister is she?" I asked. Emilia looked at me in surprise.

"Why, Charles Bryant's, of course. Max would never have her as a mistress. It would ruin his and Charlie's friendship."


Chapter 16

"What?" Helene stared at Emilia. "What are you talking about? Max never told me that Krista was Charlie's sister. Neither did Charlie!" Emilia winked.

"Well, I have it from a very reliable source that she is. She was in a finishing school in Switzerland for years, and when her husband Gerard deMomerie was alive, they lived in his house on the Côte d'Azure. She owns it now. That's where she goes for all her vacations." The other women stared at her and all was silent for a blessed minute. Then the chatter started.

"No, really! Oh my dear, why didn't you tell us earlier?"

"Emilia! I shall never forgive you. I wonder what they've been doing together, then."

"Why hasn't Charlie said anything? They've been related all her life; why hasn't anyone heard of it?" Then Anna remembered something.

"Ohh! I know why!" We all turned to regard her expectantly. She smiled secretively. "Do you remember, ladies, when Charlie was just out of college? He had been talking for years about wanting to be a spy; and I do believe that Howard mentioned in passing that Charlie had been approached by some agency. He didn't say which, and he stopped talking immediately." Cynthia winked slyly and asked,

"This wouldn't have been on one of those notorious occasions when no man can keep his mouth shut, would it?" Anna blushed, and laughed.

"As a matter of fact, it was. Men are rather simple creatures; a smart woman knows when to ask for what she wants." The other women all laughed, and agreed.

"But what would his recruitment have to do with Charlie's deception?" I asked slowly. "Unless . . ." I stopped, shaking my head. "I guess I've been reading too many spy novels." Emilia continued my train of thought.

"Unless it was to protect her?" I nodded.

"That is what I was going to say. Does that seem plausible?" The others thought for a moment, and Helene said slowly,

"That well may be, but if it is so, what was Max doing with her?" I shrugged.

"He swore up and down to me that he hadn't had an affair since before he was married; you must remember how he couldn't stand women for quite a while." Anna smiled.

"Poor man, he was so taken in. Why is it that men never see what we see? And then they call us cats when we point it out." Cynthia's laugh tinkled again.

"They would say the same about us, Emmy. The smart thing to do is to listen, and evaluate what they say." Helene chuckled.

"Ah yes. Even if we don't take their suggestions, it does make the dears feel very masculine and important." The others in the circle nodded sagely.

"Well," Anna stood up. "I am sorrier than I can say to have to leave, especially in light of this very interesting conversation, but I promised Howard faithfully that I would be home for the painters. We're having our bedroom redone." We stood, and all kissed the air beside her cheek. "Elizabeth," Anna said as she went out the door, "We must get together sometime. I think we'll get along quite well." As Anna seemed to be one of the only happily married women in the room, I smiled and agreed. She was quite nice, and if all she could do was gossip, well, I could do without intelligent conversation sometimes.

As the door closed behind her, I glanced at the clock casually, and then looked at it in shock. Almost two hours had passed! I had promised Max to be back in no more than one and a half hours. I looked at Helene apologetically. "Sorry, Helene, but Max is waiting for me. He wanted to talk to me about something.” I rose. “Thank you so much for having me. It was wonderful to meet you all,” I added as I walked to the door. The others nodded and smiled.

"Yes, so pleased to meet you," the others replied. Helene walked me to the door, and thanked me for coming. I smiled, and took my leave.

Chapter 17

I unlocked the door of the apartment and took a deep, fortifying breath before pushing it open.

"Max? I'm sorry to be late. Are you here?" He appeared at the doorway of the living room; looking so sexy, I caught my breath. He had taken off his jacket and his tie, unbuttoned his shirt at the neck, and rolled the sleeves up. My copy of After the Night was still in his hand. I saw that he was almost finished. "Is there any particular reason that you have begun to read my romance novels?" He shrugged.

"I figured that if you liked them so much there must be something in them." I smiled and walked towards him, shrugging out of my jacket. He put the book down and came to help me, hanging it up in the closet. I sighed, closed my eyes and rolled my neck. It was stiff from the tension of the past few days.

"Lord, Max, this is the weirdest honeymoon I've ever heard of. We should get a prize." He chuckled.

"Well, Elizabeth, it was your choice. And we'll have a real honeymoon once you feel comfortable with our relationship." I gave him a tired smile.

"All right, Max. I'm not avoiding you anymore. Let's sit down and you can tell me what the hell you were doing with a woman that everyone claims is your mistress and you were expected to marry." I walked before him into the living room and sat with my feet curled under me on the couch, kicking off my very correct pumps. He sat down in the huge easy chair across from me with his knees apart and braced and his elbows resting on them. He clasped his hands and looked at me. I raised my brows in inquiry. He sat back and began.

"First of all, Krista is not and never has been my mistress. I can't tell you what her relationship to me is, but she is my only connection at times to someone important. And when I come across something odd, like that boat full of cocaine, I tell her, and she makes sure the correct people find out about it." He paused.

"She's Charlie's sister, right? Charlie is the important person. He's connected with some higher-ups in the government and he was recruited a few years ago by a very hush-hush agency." I watched him to see how he reacted. He stared and then shouted with laughter.

"I forgot how informative those tea-parties can be. Very well, yes, you are right. Amanda's final and longest lasting lover, Greg Weeks, was under investigation for several things. He lives very well, but he has no visible means of support. It was suspected that he was heavily involved in the cocaine trade. Amanda, I think, might have begun to be an addict. Certainly, her money went much faster in the months after Leonie was born than it ever had before. She wasn't spending it on Weeks. Anyway, Krista is my only connection to Charlie when he is working undercover, as he is now. That cocaine shipment was a very large one--worth well over a billion dollars on the streets of the city. The oddity of both the timing and the placement of the landing, at the embassy dock during a very large party when a few extra people wouldn't be noticed, caught my attention. It occurred to me that maybe Weeks was involved. It would be very easy to carry the bags of cocaine to his car and put them in the trunk. He could drive home with no one the wiser. However, the crew was drunk and very possibly a little high, they smashed up the boat, and you went to the rescue. As a result, quite a lot of people were very much the wiser. Whoever directed that shipment had to be at the party. It is impossible to get into the embassy grounds unless you are expected or very well known there. Certainly, no one could just drive in and pick up a shipload of cocaine. The guards would not allow an unknown car or person inside the gates." He paused again.

"Well, that makes sense," I said. "If Weeks is the one involved there may be even more to it. Wasn't Amanda driving your car the night she went over the embankment?" Max nodded.

"Yes, but what does that have to do with anything?" I shrugged.

"As I said earlier, maybe I've been reading too many spy novels. But what if she wasn't the one who was supposed to be killed?" Max stared at me.

"You mean that someone thought it was me? Then, it couldn't be Weeks. She was returning from his house in my car, when she went off the bridge. He would have known it was she."

"Hmm. You have a point. Well," I stood. "I don't know. However, I believed you when you told me that you hadn't had any lovers. It took a little while, because of all the apparent information to the contrary, but I believed you eventually. However, I am still annoyed about last night. I was scared that something had happened to you. You know this city; anything could go wrong. I called the hospitals, I called the police, I woke Helene up twice and Georgette once. The next time I would appreciate the common courtesy of a phone call so I know you aren't dead." I turned and went out of the room. I was hungry again. Maybe there was some chocolate left!

Chapter 18

"LJ, come on! We're already fashionably late, and Max is getting restless. You look gorgeous."

"Give me a break, Elizabeth. The party starts at 9:00, right?"

"Yes it does. And it's 9:20 now!" LJ turned and stared at me.

"It is not. Is it?" I nodded. "Oh, I'm sorry Elizabeth! Tell Max I'm sorry. I'll be done in just a second. This is the first high-society party I've ever been to; I wanted everything to be perfect!" I smiled indulgently. I have spent a large part of my life looking out for LJ. She is far too trusting, naive, gullible, easily swayed, and she gets enthusiastic about the dumbest things imaginable. For example, during the whole mad-cow scare over here, she was all for importing infected cows from Europe to a special farm where they could stay and not be slaughtered. Nothing anyone could say would convince her that she was being ridiculous.

"LJ, I just want you to remember to be very careful what you say to anyone tonight. They would throw you to the wolves with no hesitation. I will introduce you to a few women and men that can be trusted, but with everyone else, be on your guard. The kind of gossip these people feast on is the vicious, reputation- and- happiness-destroying kind. Many of them are having affairs with many of the others, and the only virtue of importance is discretion. So don't say anything about who is with whom to anyone but Max, Georgette, Helene, or me. Got it?" LJ rolled her eyes.

"Come on, Elizabeth. I'm not stupid. Is Charlie Bryant coming tonight?" I nodded.

"Yes. He is one of those trustworthy people I mentioned. Now let's GO!" She nodded and grabbed her coat. As we exited the room, I exchanged a glance with Max, communicating resignation.

"Ladies, you both look absolutely stunning." With my ridiculous allowance, LJ had gone out and bought a dress for each of us. Hers was a golden-bronze silk color, in a forties-style evening gown; long and shimmery, with gathered straps and a low back, exposing her silky skin. LJ always did have an amazing back. Max just gave her a cursory glance and a brotherly smile. My dress was also long, of black taffeta, wide ribbons of black forming the skirt and a full silky underskirt of thin, beige material that made one give double takes; it almost looked like bare skin. It had a high neck, almost covering my collarbones, and the back was low. It had a peek-a-boo effect, for a scarf fell from either side of the neck, swaying when I moved, first showing my back then concealing it. Max was riveted. He circled me several times and came to stand in front of me, a resolute expression on his face.

"Take it off." I stared, uncomprehending.

"What?" He shook his head, determined.

"Put something else on. I don't want anyone else to see you like this. It's indecent!" LJ shrugged, entering the conversation.

"I think she looks sensational. So very sexy--provocative, concealing more than it reveals. It makes an imagination necessary." Max shook his head again, a stubborn expression on his face.

"I don't want other men using their imaginations on my wife." LJ smiled.

"Max, they will anyway. It's rather sweet that you're jealous, but it isn't necessary. You know that even if some other man made a pass, Elizabeth would never allow it." It was the wrong thing to say. I could see Max grow more determined, and he folded his arms across his chest.

"I said no. I don't want other men making passes, and I don't want anyone but me to see that dress on Elizabeth. It's too sexy." My head was turning back and forth between them, but now I focused on Max. It was sweet that he was jealous--and he was. I could see that. I gave LJ a significant glance, and she left the room. I went to my adorable, sexy husband, and took his arm.

"Max, you know perfectly well that LJ is right. Even if some man managed to ignore your intimidating glare and the fact that we're supposedly on our honeymoon, I would soon set him straight. Besides, you also know that I wore this dress for you." His head turned swiftly to look at me.

"Did you?" His voice was husky. I nodded.

"Mmhmm. And if we're talking about imaginations and passes, why don't we discuss that bottle blonde in the white satin bikini who was all over you at Helene's the other night?" He shrugged in disgust.

"I don't know. I think she was drunk, and she wouldn't take no for an answer. And I think that was supposed to be a dress of some kind." I snorted.

"Right. Max, I don't have anything else to wear. LJ has been looking forward to this party. So please, let's go. I promise you can come shopping with me and help me choose dresses from now on, OK?" He smiled crookedly.

"What about that knee length dress we bought the other day?" I gave him a significant look.

"Max, I have obvious stubble burn on the insides of my knees. When I sit down, that dress is mid-thigh. It won't work. Let's go." He groaned, but took my coat and helped me into it.

"There. Stay like that for the evening." I gave him an exasperated glance, a warm feeling uncurling in my stomach at his possessiveness and called LJ.


Chapter 19

Several pairs of eyes turned to us as we walked into the large, ornately decorated ballroom. Emilia came to greet us, smiling graciously. We exchanged air kisses (for reasons of lipstick) and she gave Max her hand, which he kissed gallantly. I gestured for LJ to step forward and introduced her.

“Emilia, this is my younger sister, LJ. LJ, this is Emilia Fitzwalter.” Emilia smiled again and shook LJ's hand.

“I'm very pleased to meet you, LJ. I hope that you will accompany your sister more often.” LJ gave her a friendly smile and said,

“How do you do. Thank you for allowing me to attend.”

“Here,” Emilia said, taking her arm. “I'll introduce you to several people.” LJ glanced back at me, and I gave her a warning glare. She nodded in understanding, and trailed off in Emilia's wake.

“What was that about?” Max asked, having noticed the by-play. I shrugged as his arm went around my waist and we strolled slowly to the refreshment tables.

“I warned LJ to watch her tongue around everyone, and to listen more than she speaks.” Max smiled at me approvingly.

“I'm impressed. What was that you said about not knowing how to go along in 'my world'?” I blew a kiss at him, pleased with his praise. His eyes grew more intense, and he steered me towards a dark corner of the ballroom. I glanced around in surprise, wondering what he was doing.

When we arrived, he whirled me in his arms and grasped my shoulders firmly. “Elizabeth, just before we left the house, you said something.” I stared, my mind whirling as I tried to imagine what he was talking about. Seeing my confusion, he sighed. “About stubble-burn.” I blushed so darkly that he could see it even in the shadows, and raised one hand to touch my burning cheek. “Amazing,” he said. “I've heard about redheads and their blushes, but you never blush. Do your breasts turn pink, too?” He stared so hard at them that I could feel a flicker of heat unwinding, and my breasts tightened. He drew in a breath and stared down at my puckered nipples, obvious through the thin, tight taffeta. I blushed again and tried to cross my arms. He stopped me, smiling gently as he looked into my embarrassed eyes. “Don't be embarrassed. It's beautiful.” He shook his head as though to clear it and his expression grew determined. “The point is that we need to talk about that.” I laughed nervously.

“Isn't that my line? I thought those words sent men running for the hills.” He smiled but was not distracted.

“Elizabeth, I'm sorry. You know that I want you, and my only excuse is that it is getting harder and harder for me to be around you and not wrestle you to the floor or pin you to a wall or lift you over me in the car.” I stared at him in surprise. I never would have guessed. The thought of being with him in all those places made my body soften and tighten at the same time. I took a deep breath. He looked down again at my tightened nipples and at the pulse at the base of my neck, which was beating noticeably. He groaned and pulled me taut against his body. I could feel his arousal against my stomach, and I squirmed slightly. His arms tightened around me and his voice was almost guttural when he said,

“If you don't want to be an exhibitionist, stop doing that.” I stared at him in shock, and he smiled. “I'm getting too hot, babe.” He let me go and backed me up until I was about a foot away from him. He took a few deep breaths while I watched, fascinated that I had such an effect on him. He recognized my expression and smiled at me. “It's all right. But you're damned lucky we're at a party in full view of all these people!” I felt a surge of pride that I had such an effect on this gorgeous, wonderful man.

“Elizabeth, about last night . . .” I looked past him, embarrassed again, and I saw something that sent a chill through me. I grabbed his arm.

“Max!” He stared at me.

“What?” I didn't take my eyes off the scene unfolding before my eyes.

“Why is Greg Weeks taking LJ up the stairs?”

Chapter 20

Max groaned and glanced over his shoulder. Sure enough Weeks was there, leading LJ up the stairs to the bedroom hallway. Max cursed under his breath and let go of me reluctantly.

“Dammit! I'll have to go after them now.” I looked at him gratefully.

“Would you? Oh, Max! Thank you.” He gave me a meaningful glare and said,

“Don't move and don't forget what we were discussing.” I put on my innocent expression and nodded obediently. He cursed again under his breath and turned angrily toward the stairs. I looked around anxiously, but no one appeared to have noticed Weeks and LJ's departure. As I glance back at the stairs, I saw a fuming Charlie Bryant climbing them, the expression on his face boding ill for LJ. It made me wonder just how involved he was: superficially, as the best friend of her brother in law or more deeply, in a romantic way. Hmm. He's eleven years older than she is, but my own marriage shows that this is not uncommon.

Intriguing--I wonder what happened at the wedding reception after we left? LJ was going to have a lot to answer for! Argh. Max and I were getting somewhere! I feel sure that he was just about to explain his seemingly inexplicable actions. And she had to interrupt! What was she doing, anyway? After I had specifically warned her about dangerous people and about him in particular. I began to pace. LJ was coming very close to ruining both her reputation and mine! And if my reputation were ruined, Max would look like a fool! I was getting more and more agitated by the minute.

What seemed like hours later, Max touched me lightly on the shoulder. I was staring at the stairs so hard that I hadn't even heard him. I whirled around, startled, and said,

“How did you get down here?” He smiled.

“I went down the back stairs after LJ and Charlie.” I nodded my comprehension. “I shouldn't wonder if he were spanking your sister now,” he commented casually. I stared at him.

“What? I mean, he doesn't even know her.” Now it was Max's turn to stare at me.

“What do you mean he doesn't know her? They've been interested in each other since the wedding, and LJ has been chasing Charlie while he tries to avoid her. He thinks he's too old.” My husband gave me a significant smile. “Of course, as I have mentioned before, the age difference between him and LJ is the same as that between you and me. But he's being an idiot.” By now, he had taken my arm and we were circulating, smiling at people, unobtrusively making our way towards the door and our coats. I was preoccupied with what I had just learned, and Max gave my back a little nudge. “You go and get your wrap and LJ's, and I'll follow in a few minutes with mine and Charlie's. We don't want people wondering why LJ and Charlie are off somewhere alone.” I nodded, and went to make our excuses to Emilia.

“I'm so sorry, Emilia, but my sister LJ has a terrible headache. She's been studying for her exams too much. Thank you for inviting us.” Emilia smiled and kissed my cheek.

“Of course, Elizabeth. I'm sorry that you have to leave. Please tell LJ that I hope she feels better! I would love it if you brought her to tea next week.” I smiled again and took my leave.


Max was waiting outside with the car. I climbed in, tossing LJ's coat into the back seat, and sat rubbing my temples. The headache I had blithely accused LJ of having had turned to me. I felt tired and drained.

“Max, I can't stand this. Why is everything happening at once?” He put his arm around me and pulled my head into his shoulder, stroking my back soothingly. We stayed like that for a little while, and eventually I could feel the tension drain out of me. “Ugh,” I said, and sat up. “Let's go home, please. LJ is old enough to take care of herself.” Max nodded as he put the car into gear and headed into traffic.

“Charlie won't let anything bad happen to her that he doesn't cause himself.” The qualification made me a little nervous, but if Max trusts him, I can too.


We got back to the apartment, and walked inside. I set my bag and wrap on the couch, and went into the kitchen. While Max leaned on the counter, I was riffling through the cupboards for the hot chocolate mix. I found it, and I heated a mug of milk in the microwave.

“Do you want some?” I asked Max. He shook his head and headed for the bar, where he poured himself a double brandy. I took out the bag of marshmallows and put six in the mug of cocoa. I walked to the couch again, set my mug on the coaster (am I well trained or what) and flopped down onto the cushions. I stretched out and sighed.

“Good grief, I feel like I've been through a meat crusher. Everything's been happening all at once.” Not to mention this uncertain situation with Max.

He came and sat on the couch, picking up my feet and laying them down again in his lap. He took a long drink of his brandy and stroked my ankles. Far from tickling, as I expected, this action sent little prickles of heat running up and down my spine, tightening my nipples and making me squirm slightly. He began to undo the strap of one satin evening sandal, but paused to trace the side of my foot where it arched in the high stiletto.

“Do you know why these are called `fuck me shoes'?” He asked. I shook my head dumbly. He smiled slightly, continuing to trace my foot. “Because this is the way a woman's foot arches in orgasm. That's why they're so sexy. Every man who sees them thinks, `That's how she'd look if I made her climax right now.” I stared at him. He smiled more broadly and licked his lower lip. “Including me.”

“Including y-you?” He nodded.

“I've been thinking it ever since you walked out of the bedroom in them.” It was my turn to lick my lips, and his gaze focused on my tongue as it darted out. His eyes grew darker and heavy lidded. “But I was one up on all those other men tonight.”

“O-oh?”

“Mmhmm. Because I know what you look like in climax.” He traced my foot again. “And you arch your feet just like this.” I swallowed hard. There it was.

“I-I do?”

“Of course. And you know that I know.” I nodded. He leaned closer, undoing the strap of the shoe and letting it fall, and sliding his warm palm from the sole of my foot to my calf. “And you know that I want to do it again.” I was watching him, fascinated. His hand slowly slid up to my thigh. “But this time, I want to see it while I'm buried deep inside you-so deep that we can't tell where you stop and I begin.” His voice was getting huskier as he said this, and I moaned, unable to block the picture forming in my mind, of us straining together, my legs locked around his waist, his mouth on mine.

“Do we have a relationship, Elizabeth?” he asked in his deep voice. I stared at him as I thought frantically. We trust each other. We are attracted to each other. We are friends. We want each other desperately. I weighed these things, and to be honest, I had to add my love for him. I looked up into his eyes, and saw his uncertainty, his desire and the control he was exerting over himself. I smiled, and said,

“Yes.” He stared at me as though he didn't believe what he had heard.

“Yes?” I nodded and smiled.

“Yes.” He stared some more and then he grinned wholeheartedly, gave a whoop and swung me up into his arms. I clutched at his neck and laughed. He started down the hall, almost running, to the bedroom, as I kicked off my remaining shoe and undid his tie and the top of his shirt. We had just reached the door when the front doorbell rang. Max stopped in his tracks and we stared at each other in disbelief. This couldn't be happening. Max turned with me still in his arms, and walked to the door. I opened it.

There, beside a fuming Charlie Bryant, was a sulky, petulant LJ.

Chapter 21

Charlie stared at us and smiled wickedly.

“Whoops! It looks like we interrupted something.” Both Max and I glared at him, unamused. Charlie pushed past us, his hand latched on to LJ's arm tightly. She resisted, but was pulled off balance by Charlie' determination, and had to take a large step in his direction to keep from falling. She looked at me, pouting, and I saw a flash of rebellion in her eyes. She did not seem remorseful at all. Charlie dragged her into the living room and told her to sit on the couch. I shut the door, and Max carried me into the living room to sit on his lap in the big armchair. Charlie stood at the mantel.

“Well, Charlie? What's going on?” Max opened the conversation. Charlie snorted

“Your wife's sister here has been doing a little fraternizing with the enemy. She and Greg Weeks were pretty cozy up in that bedroom.” I gasped and turned to stare at LJ. She did not meet my gaze. “In fact, they were so cozy that she had to get dressed before Max and I could do anything.” I turned to Max.

“Really? Why didn't you say anything?” Not waiting for a reply, I turned back to LJ. “Is this true? Why? I expressly warned you against the man. He is treacherous, not to mention the biggest bad guy I ever hope to meet.” She said nothing, only folding her arms across her chest. Charlie continued,

“LJ, you can ask Max and your sister to verify what I'm saying. Greg Weeks is under suspicion of murder, and we have nearly final proof to convict him of cocaine smuggling and dealing. It is all too probable that he killed Amanda D'Arcy.” LJ sneered. I had never seen her behaving so badly!

“LJ Rosemary Bedford! I have never seen you behaving like such a child. If you weren't so old, I would say you need a spanking!” That made LJ look even more mutinous and she shifted on the couch. Charlie made an odd sound in his throat and looked uncomfortable. I stared at him and then looked back at LJ. “Charlie, you didn't.” He did not reply. I shook my head. “All right, both of you out. Now. LJ, I don't want you here until you can promise not to see Weeks ever again. I don't want you watching Leonie while you're seeing him. Don't you understand? He killed his lover, the woman whom everyone agrees he loved to distraction. Do you really think he would hesitate to hurt a woman he is using for sex and revenge?” LJ looked uncomfortable. I hope that she took my words seriously. “Please leave, both of you.” Charlie looked at Max, who shrugged and nodded. Charlie straightened and walked over to the couch where he reached down and tugged LJ up by her hands.

“Come on. We've worn out our welcome. I'll take you home.” The door closed behind them.

I slumped against Max, my head on his shoulder. He tightened his arms around me and rubbed the top of my neck where I was very tense.

“Dammit, Max. I don't understand. How can she do things like this? It makes no sense. I warned her explicitly. She is usually sensible. She might be a risk taker, but she isn't stupid.” He rubbed his chin against the top of my head.

“Well, this certainly put a damper on our plans for the evening.” He stood with a groan and went to the front door to lock it, putting me on my feet so he could turn out the lights. Then he picked me up again and walked to the bedroom. He put me on my feet again so he could take my dress, shoes, and stockings off, and put them away. I undid his shirt, took his tie off, and went into the bathroom to wash my face and brush my teeth.

He joined me in a minute wearing his boxer-briefs. (Ooh, those are very sexy.) I smiled at him and went back into the bedroom. His futon was on the floor; I took the pillows off and kicked the futon under the bed, and put the pillows on top of the bed, on the side he likes the best. Then I climbed into the other side in my little satin nightgown that my mother (!) gave me for my honeymoon. I turned on my stomach and stretched out, bowing my back and reaching my arms above my head.
As I relaxed, I heard the bathroom door close. Max went around the bed to where his futon usually was. When he saw it was missing, he went still. After a moment, he turned his head and saw me watching him. He stared at me fixedly. I smiled shyly, his body seemed to relax, and he smiled back. I turned on my back and sat up, pulling aside the covers for him. He sat on the bed, swinging his legs up and pulled the covers over himself.

“I left you the pillows,” I pointed out, teasing. He smiled and tossed them on the floor. I stared at him. “I thought you liked pillows.”

“Usually, I like one. But I don't want them in the way.” He lay down, and gestured for me to do the same. Reaching over he turned the light off, and turned me on my side. He curled up behind me, spoon-fashion, and put his arm around me, cupping my breast in his palm. He sighed and went limp. I stayed awake for a while, just enjoying the feel of my husband's warmth and the comfort of his presence. I fell asleep with a smile.

Chapter 22

The next morning I awoke a little after eight and lay in bed unsure of what to do. Should I stay and hope that we could continue where we had left off last night? Or should I leave so as to avoid an awkward situation? I deliberated the two choices for a few minutes, extremely tempted to curl up against Max's chest and go back to sleep. But I chose the coward's way out.

Lying as still as possible, I gently shifted his arm from its lock hold on my waist and lifted it slightly, sliding out from under it. With one last longing look, almost giving in to the urge, I tiptoed out of the room to make coffee. Max makes fun of me, just like my dad and Keith, for liking French Vanilla coffee. (What can I say; I got hooked on Dunkin' Donuts' iced French Vanilla coffee in high school. Milk, two sugars.)
While I was waiting for the coffee, I dug out one of my legal pads and a pen and sat down at the kitchen table. I love making lists; they help keep my life in line. And when I'm really confused or stressed or just bored, I make lists of things I need to do, things that I have to be happy about, so on and so forth. Today I was going to make a pros and cons list about Max and me.

Here's what the list looked like:

PROS
1. I'm in love with Max
2. we're married
3.he trusts me with his daughter
4.there have been quite a few cases when the nanny marries into the family
5.he's rich and generous
6.we have the same values
7.I'm definitely attracted to him
8.he's attracted to me

CONS
1.he said he is not in love with me
2.I don't know why he married me
3.I used to be practically the nanny
4.his family has issues
5.women chase him, even when he's married
6.almost no one else he knows thinks we have the same values
7.my attraction distracts me
8. Does he love me or just want me?

I stopped at 8 becausee I was just depressing myself, and my brain was not any clearer. I sat at the kitchen table in my gorgeous velvet bridal shower robe drinking coffee as though I had not slept for weeks, my chin resting on my hand, staring off into the distance. I totally forgot about the croissant in the oven until the smoke detector went off. I jumped up and turned on the cooking fan, turned off the oven, waved a towel at the smoke detector and opened a few windows to air out the smoke. When I turned around to get out the croissant and throw it away, Max was standing in the doorway in his boxers, looking tousled and delicious from sleep, but his eyes alert and his body tense, clearly ready for whatever issue he was needed to solve.

When he saw what it was, he relaxed and walked over to the counter with the coffee machine and poured himself a cup. He took a sip then made a face and poured it away. I smiled.

“French Vanilla. I wasn't expecting you to get up for a while.” He put on some regular coffee with an indulgent smile.

“I don't understand it, but as far as vices go French Vanilla coffee is low on the scale.” I grinned at him, determined not to show my confusion over our relationship and how I felt about it. I went back to drinking my coffee, and Max put two more croissants in the oven, this time setting the timer. “Just to be sure,” he said. “I respect croissants far too much to let you turn them into charred crescents of carbon.”

“Ooh,” I joked, “Nice alliteration. I'll have to write that down.” I pretended to take out a pad and pencil.

“Perfect,” he said, walking over to take the imaginary pad from me. “I have lots of ideas. I should have a column in a magazine too!”

“OK, you write my column and I'll run your businesses.” He looked at me seriously for a minute.

“Would you like to?” I stared at him.

“No thanks, I don't think I would enjoy being responsible for so many people and their families.” He nodded.

“You get used to the pressure, but you're right. It is a big responsibility. But if you like, I could start teaching you some of the business.” I thought about it.

“Like what parts?”

“Well, basic administration, how to predict a trend, how to convince people that they should invest their money with you; things like that.”

“Hmm. That could be interesting. Will you be disappointed or upset if I don't have an aptitude for it? Or if I get overwhelmed and decide to quit?” He chuckled.

“Of course not. I'm doing quite well managing it myself; I just thought it would be a way for us to spend more time together. Besides which, I think you would have an aptitude for it, and once you learn the basics, I would appreciate your opinion.” I smiled again, pleased at this sign of respect.

“Well, it could be fun. Do I get to teach you to write or is this a one-way deal?” He got up to get the croissants.

“Of course, I would love to learn to write. Tell you what, I'll send you a sample of my writing on a subject that I care deeply for, and you can tell me what you think.” I broke a piece off my croissant and put it in my mouth, relishing the smooth, buttery flavor.
“Sounds good. Oh, my mother wants to know if she can keep Leonie for another few days. It seems that she is teaching Leonie to knit, and Leonie is teaching her La Vie en Rose. Mom has always wanted to know that song.” Max laughed.

“Well, I wouldn't mind the extra time alone, would you?” He reached over and took my hand, which was halfway to my mouth with another bite of croissant, and kissed my knuckles. “I am going to have a little talk with Charlie about calling before he shows up at a newlywed's apartment. I was quite irritated with him last night.” I sighed.

“I was disappointed in LJ. She has never been too cautious or had much common sense, but that was ridiculous.” I squeezed his hand and withdrew mine, putting the bite of croissant into my mouth. “I explained everything to her carefully. I don't know why she would do something that stupid.” Max shrugged.

“I wondered last night; could she have been trying to make Charlie jealous?” I shook my head.

“I don't know. I'm not sure it was even that coherent in her head. I know that she has been attracted to him since she met him, and it's entirely possible that she is immature enough to try that.” I rubbed my forehead, feeling last night's headache coming back with a vengeance. “I want to think that she wouldn't put my standing with your friends in danger like that. My actions reflect directly on you.” Max chuckled.

“Don't worry, Elizabeth. You have done nothing so far but improve my image.” I smiled ruefully.

“I don't know about that; those married women seem to chase you all the harder now that you're married, too. It's as though you're safer.” Max grimaced and rose to help clear up the mess.

“I know. I'd forgotten what it was like when Amanda was alive. They actually seemed to calm down some when I was single. Of course, all the debs were after me then. I'm very glad that I found you, Elizabeth! I can be sure of you in ways that I couldn't be of the others.” Great; now I'm predictable and certain. How romantic; that's just how I always dreamed of appearing to the man of my dreams! “Of course, I could be sure of them in ways that I can't be of you. If one of them had married me, I would have known that they were marrying me at least in part because of what I could give them. At least I know that isn't why you married me, though I'm at a loss as to your reasons.” He paused for a minute, as though waiting for a response. I was silent, and he continued. “I hope that you will tell me someday. If nothing else, I want us to have a good relationship, to be comfortable sharing things.” I smiled and nodded. Putting the last of the dishes in the dishwasher, I walked over and kissed his cheek and then walked down the hall to the bedroom to get dressed.

Chapter 23

Early that afternoon, after several hours spent wracking my brains for answers to all the questions that were still not wholly formed in my head, I answered the phone. It was LJ.

“Elizabeth? I'm sorry about last night. I didn't realize how immature I was being. I hope you will forgive me.” I smiled, unable to resist my little sister when she was repentant.

“Of course I will, LJ. I'm so glad that you came to your senses. I knew you were too smart to be fooled by Greg Weeks.” She giggled self-consciously.

“Oh, I knew what I was doing. I was trying to rile Charlie up into finally saying something. And did it work! Let me tell you, I might never let this one go!” I groaned.

“LJ, I really hoped that you weren't doing that! What is wrong with you? Don't you realize that as my guest I was responsible for you? And as Max's wife I reflect directly on him. He does business with those people, grew up with many of them. I took the time to tell you all that and to tell you who was safe and who wasn't just to avoid the kind of issue that you escaped getting us into by the skin of Max and Charlie's teeth. I had to lie to get you out. I don't like lying, not even social lies. I did appreciate that!” I paused, not wanting to belabor the point. “Don't ever put me or Max in that position again. If you want Charlie to take you seriously, start acting your age. He is not going to marry someone who acts as though she is twelve!” LJ was quiet on the other end of the line.

“I'm sorry, Elizabeth. I didn't realize it was that serious. Do you really think Charlie thinks I'm immature?” I shook my head.

“I'm sure of it, LJ. That was one of things he talked about with Max. One of the main issues was age, but the problem with that was that you don't even act your age, much less older. He needs an equal, a partner. You must be able to connect with him on more levels than the physical, as wonderful as I'm sure it was.” She giggled again.

“You guessed right. It was wonderful.” I sighed.

“I figured as much. I saw the way you were looking at each other. I'm happy for you, but remember. Trying to make a man jealous by paying attention to one of his worst enemies is not a growth strategy. The man will tire of it in no time and probably begin to distrust you. Be careful how you manipulate men. They are not as stupid as they seem sometimes.”

“You're right, Elizabeth. All right, I will try to be more mature, and I will try to consider my actions first.”

“Wonderful. I'm proud of you. Now, was there anything else you wanted to talk about? I've got some agonizing to do.” LJ laughed.

“You always did think too much. Just jump the man, Elizabeth. It's not as though it will be the first time. He cares about you, and you know it. You've been in love with the man for years, whether you knew it or not.” It was my turn to be silent. LJ saw more than I had given her credit for.

“You're right,” I said. “Thanks for the advice.” She laughed.

“Oh, Elizabeth? I wanted to ask you something. Is all of Max's family on bad terms with Greg Weeks?”

“Yes, although there's only Georgette, but she can't stand the man.”

“Hmm. I saw them acting pretty friendly last night, when Charlie and I were sneaking around the back of the house for the second time. I had left my bag upstairs, and we had to go back and get it. They were huddled in a corner of the garden talking.”

“That's weird. Oh well, I'm sure it was nothing. I'll talk to you later, LJ.”

“Bye. And Elizabeth?”

“Hmm?”

“Thanks.”

“No problem, li'l sis.”

When I had hung up, I went to put water on for tea. The apartment was still not totally together, and I went back to arranging all my things in the places I had picked for them. All the furniture was installed, but my books were still in boxes, and most of my clothes were not hung up or in my dresser drawers. I set to work with a will deciding to tire myself out so that I would stop thinking about everything. It was all happening at once! There's only so much a girl can take.

I was almost finished putting my summer clothes in protective plastic bags in the top of my closet when I remembered something odd that LJ had said. Georgette and Greg Weeks? Georgette claimed to hate him. Why on earth would she be `huddled' in a corner of the garden with the man? As though a dam inside my brain had burst, thoughts and memories came flooding in from all over the place.

Georgette is three years younger than Max; she grew up with Charlie and Max, and so she must have known the truth about Kristal deMomerie. Why would she try to make it seem that Max was having an affair with her? If people Max hardly talked to knew that he would never fool around with his best friend's sister, Max's sister would certainly know that. And while Georgette didn't like Amanda, she would certainly never be friendly with the man who had contributed so much to her brother's unhappiness. During the whole Kristal scare it had occurred to me that Georgette was a little too energetic and enthusiastic in encouraging my paranoia. It was almost as if she were trying to pry Max away from me. But why? She seemed thrilled at our marriage, and we had been friendly long before it.

I shook my head. This was ridiculous! Of course Georgette was not scheming against Max and me; why would she do such a thing? And LJ couldn't have seen her talking with Greg Weeks. It must have been someone else.
Resolutely, I went back to unpacking and organizing. With a little luck and some inspiration, I should have it all done before eight tonight.

Chapter 24

When Max got home I was heating up the chicken Mrs. R. had left, along with mashed potatoes and fresh asparagus. The timer was on, and I was so involved in the bedroom that I didn't hear him come in. The first I knew of it was when I felt his arms curving around my waist and pulling me back against his chest. I was startled and jumped, but relaxed quickly when I realized who it was. Max buried his face in the curve between my neck and shoulder inhaling sharply. I put my hands over his where they rested on my stomach and leaned my head on his shoulder, smiling.

“I'm sorry sweetheart; I didn't mean to startle you,” he said, still nuzzling my neck. I rubbed my head on his shoulder gently.

“That's all right. I'm trying to get everything settled in its place. I much prefer to be organized, and the boxes were getting on my nerves.” He chuckled, and I could feel his chest rumble against my back, making me shiver. He felt it and held me all the tighter, this time biting gently at the tendon connecting my neck and shoulder. I began to wonder where all this was leading.

Is he just being affectionate, or is this a seduction attempt? Not that I have a problem either way, but which is it? My question seemed to be answered when his grasp loosened on my waist. I drew away slightly only to be turned gently into his arms again until I was facing him. He stood looking down at me for a minute, a tender expression on his face. The combination of that soft look and the fires that lit his eyes turned my knees to pudding, and I leaned against him more heavily. The soft expression was replaced with a pirate's grin; that of a man intent on taking what he wants and using whatever means necessary. That look made me a little nervous, but it was also wildly exciting. He used his hands on my waist to lift me on tiptoe and then bent to meet my mouth with his own. It started lightly, but his lips soon hardened, his fingertips digging into my waist. I collapsed against him even more, completely loosing control of my legs. I could feel that pirate's grin against my lips as he felt me trust all my weight to him. His mouth opened slightly, and the tip of his tongue teased the seam of my lips, requesting, no: demanding entrance. I yielded willingly, parting my lips and allowing him entry. He probed gently not yet going deep. He seemed to be waiting for my participation so I gave it; I used my tongue to suck his deep into my mouth, curling it around his lovingly. He groaned thickly, and seemed to loose his resolve to be gentle and go slowly. His tongue recoiled and plunged, taking possession in no uncertain terms. His arms gripped me closer and I felt the instinctive movement of his hips. My arms curled around his neck, one hand touching his jaw and the other gripping his back for support. He bent over me slightly, and I let my head drop back on his shoulder, curling one leg around his and clasping his leg between my thighs. He shuddered, and one hand dropped to my bottom to press my hips hard against his, then moving down and gripping my thigh and bringing it up farther on his, curling it around his waist. Lifting me off the ground, still kissing me with an intensity I found totally absorbing, he wrapped my other leg around his waist. I was now totally open to him, and I could feel his erection pressing against my core. I moved my hips in a rolling motion against him that felt totally natural and made him stagger slightly. His breathing was hard, as was mine, and we were kissing ravenously, unable to satisfy the craving. I could feel him pulsing against me and I could feel my panties getting wetter and wetter as he rubbed me against him. Oh God, how did this happen? It's going so fast! Not that I minded at all. The desire that had exploded in him was mirrored in me.

It was inevitable, I suppose, that we be interrupted. This time was by the oven timer buzzing loudly enough to wake the dead, or in our case, the lustful. I paused, still wrapped around Max as I tried to identify the odd noise. He, noticing my hesitation, lifted his head and heard it too. Looking down at me with his pupils almost totally covering his irises and red arcs on his cheekbones, he seemed dazed, as I was. After a moment of resistance, he allowed me to slip down his body, an action that made both of us shudder and clutch at the other. I loosed my hold on him and wobbled out of the room and into the kitchen where I turned both oven and timer off, remembering (amazingly) to put on oven mitts before taking the food out of the oven and putting it on the counter. I pulled off the tinfoil and turned to ask Max if he was hungry at all. He was standing so close to me that there was scarcely an inch between us. I pressed back against the counter; unnerved both by what had happened back in my closet and the way he was looking at me.

“Uh, M-max? Are you hungry?” He nodded slowly, never taking his gaze from mine. I stood there staring, a rabbit caught in the headlights, unable to tear my eyes from his. “I mean hungry for chicken?” He seemed not to hear me and did not answer, only stepping closer and making it impossible for my body to be in anything but total contact with his. I could feel his arousal against my stomach and blushed.

“Are you playing around, or did you mean that back there?” I stared at him, aghast.

“What do you mean, playing? Is that what you were doing?” He shook his head.

“I don't think you're a tease, but you sure are doing a good job of teasing me.” I shook my head violently.

“I'm not a tease! How could I fake something like what happened? Max, how can you ask something like that?” He was still staring at me, and his forehead creased slightly.

“You're a virgin, so I don't think you know how to use sex to control a man.” I gasped, shocked at his intimation.

“How dare you? Even if I knew how, I would not stoop so low! Don't you know me at all? You heard the timer. I didn't want to burn all the food! And if I had let the stupid buzzer keep going, the entire building and possibly half the city would have been calling to complain.” The angrier I got, the steadier my knees were. Obviously anger was counteracting the explosive and alarming desire that had sparked between us. I grasped at my anger as a lifeline. I used his uncertainty to shove resolutely at his shoulders, and he backed up enough to let me squeeze away from between him and the counter. I was standing in the center of the kitchen, and he was still looking at me in slight confusion. Angry and hurt, I folded my arms and turned my back, looking down at the ground. We stayed like that for a few minutes; then I again felt him at my back. He rested his hands on my shoulders slightly, as though expecting me to throw them off. I turned my head slightly, showing that I was listening to what he had to say, but didn't actually look at him.

He sighed. “I'm sorry, Elizabeth. You're right. I know that you would not use sex as a weapon even if you knew how. You have standards and that is much too low for you. My only excuse is that men who are painfully aroused and then disappointed are not always thinking clearly. We only have a certain blood supply, and it can only be in one place at once.” He smiled ruefully, and I giggled at his insinuation. He turned me around and tipped my chin up so my eyes met his. “I want you, Elizabeth D'Arcy, and you want me. I'm so confused and nervous, I feel like a virgin myself. I don't like it. Will you please tell me what is going on in that beautiful but incomprehensible head of yours?” I smiled at the pleading tone in his voice.

“Max,” I replied, lifting my hand to his cheek, “I'm not changing my mind; I agreed that we have a relationship, and I still think we do. It's just that the world is conspiring against us, or so it seems. Here, let's eat dinner, and then we'll see where we are. Please be patient with me. I'm nervous and confused too. And while I know the basics, knowledge and experience are worlds apart.” He smiled back at me, and I knew his confidence was rebuilding itself. I shook my head and grinned at him. He grinned back, apparently recovered, and placed a smacking kiss on my lips. Max turned around and got out two plates and silverware while I served the chicken with mashed potatoes and asparagus.

I'm not sure why, exactly, but Max insisted that I sit on his lap and feed him, while he fed me. Not a lot of food was consumed, but it was a lot of fun. There was a lot of laughing and kissing, which more than made up for the little attention we paid to the food.

After the dishes were cleared, Max brought out one of the bottles of champagne that we had commandeered from our wedding (we took home half of the extra, Mom and Dad kept the other half) and poured two glasses. Champagne is one of my favorite drinks, and I enjoy it even more at celebratory occasions. And as far as we were concerned planning on making love for the first time was definitely a celebratory occasion.

After my second glass, as Max was pouring me a third, I looked at him suspiciously and said teasingly,

“Are you trying to get me drunk so I'll sleep with you? It won't work you know. I'm waiting until I'm in love and married. So you'll just have to put two rings on this finger before… Oh.” I looked down at him from where I was again perched in his lap, and giggled. “Would you look at that? You did put two rings on this finger. And I'm in love and married. Wow, you don't even have to bother getting me drunk!” He had gone still, the bottle still gripped in his hand, the knuckles of which were turning white. “Max? What's wrong? Did I say something?” He was staring at me with a somewhat shell-shocked expression.

“Are you saying---did you mean-what--you're in love and married?” The poor man, he was practically incoherent. But I knew what he was asking.

“You mean was I serious about being in love with you? Yes, and I wasn't sure when to tell you, if at all. It seemed like a good time. Was I wrong? I'm sorry; I didn't think you would mind.” I began to slowly slide off of his lap, but he clasped his arms around me firmly, the bottle still clutched in his fist. I gently pried his fingers away from it and replaced it on the table. A little concerned, I made him have a few sips of my champagne, after which he looked at me, clearly speechless, and then buried his face in my neck, holding me to him so closely that I almost feared my ribs would crack. I shifted slightly in his lap, so that I could put my arms around him. I cradled his head against me and murmured as though to a baby.

“Shh, shh. I love you, Max. I meant it. And I hope that someday, in spite of everything, that you will love me a little, too. Don't worry about it, baby. You've given me so much; you're the husband I always dreamed of. Shh, shh.” I rocked him gently. After a minute he lifted his head and slacked his grip on me slightly. I was shocked to see that his eyes were moist. I took his head between my hands and brushed kisses all over it, from his beautiful eyes to his firm lips and his high cheekbones. I pulled back slightly to look at him, and it was his turn to pull me close with my head on his shoulder. He held me as though he would never let me go.

“God, Elizabeth. I didn't even know that I wanted your love at first. But I know now and I do want it. Don't ever take it away. I promise I'll take good care of it. I need you, baby. I don't know what I would do without you. I can't lose you.” He was pressing kisses into my hair, on my ears, everywhere he could reach. My heart was swelled so big I couldn't speak. I felt as though if I tried I would start crying hysterically. Thank you, God! He loves me. He really loves me. He hasn't learned to say so, but he does. All of the obstacles to our marriage had been removed, and I felt like singing the Hallelujah Chorus, or dancing Riverdance or moving the Himalaya Mountains to Australia. I felt that I could do anything. We sat there, not speaking, just holding each other for a long time.

Chapter 25

Eventually, a recollection beckoning through the fog in my brain caught my attention. I sat up in Max's lap and said,

“Max, does Georgette know that Kristal deMomerie is Charlie's sister?” He tilted his head to look at me.

“Of course; she is only a few years younger than Charlie is, and Charlie and I have been friends for a long time. Why do you ask?” I frowned.

“Shouldn't Georgette know that you wouldn't have an affair with Charlie's sister?” He stared.

“Of course; she knows that I have never had any feelings of that sort towards Kristal and she knows my standards.”

“Then why did Georgette tell me, in no uncertain terms, that you were having an affair with Kristal?” He stiffened.

“She couldn't have. That is ridiculous.” Oh great-now he's going to accuse me of lying.

“Max, look at me and hear what I'm saying. I am not accusing Georgette of anything and the last thing I want is to cause a rift between the two of you. But Georgette called me the other day to tell me that you were having a very private lunch in Soho with your lover, Kristal deMomerie, and that you had lied to me about restructuring management. Not only did she tell me this, but when I asked Helene where she had gotten her information on your supposed affair with Kristal, she said that Georgette had told her. And this afternoon,” I went on, thoughts and connections coming even faster, “LJ called to ask if all your family hates Greg Weeks, then why was Georgette acting all cozy with the man in a corner of the garden at the party? I brushed it aside at the time, but altogether it seems very weird. Georgette positively encouraged my paranoia over where you were. You know that you told me you had always been faithful to Amanda? Well, she told me that day, during our first conversation, that almost immediately when Amanda began to refuse to sleep with you, you had started the affair with Kristal. When I got over freaking out over the whole thing, it didn't sound right. I know enough about your character to know that you don't lie about things as important as that.” Max was staring at me blankly, and I could see his thoughts whirling in his head. I sat there in his lap, his arms around me loosely, and waited for him to catch up.

“Elizabeth,” he said suddenly after a minute, “What are the general symptoms of cocaine addiction?” It was my turn to stare, confused at the rapid change of topic.

“What? Why?” He turned his head to look down at me.

“I have wondered for a while, somewhat casually I'm sorry to say, if Amanda was a coke addict.” I was more confused than ever, and he saw it on my face. “I'm probably wrong, I hope I am, but as of now, I noticed the connection between Amanda and Georgette-and that is Greg Weeks. I'm trying to think if Georgette has been acting like Amanda did at all.” I slid off of his lap and went to my desk in the bedroom. Max followed me, and leaned over the back of my chair while I connected to the Internet and searched for `Cocaine addiction symptoms' on Google.

“Regular cocaine use can cause weight loss, chronic runny nose, and damage to the nose and sinuses. It can also cause lowered resistance to infections and disease, bronchitis and respiratory problems, high blood pressure, and seizures. These risks increase as the amount and frequency of the use increases.
Early problems of cocaine use include; increased irritability, short temper, and paranoia. Some users have trouble concentrating or remembering things, lose interest in sex, or have panic attacks. After using the drug for week or months users can develop chronic depression, hallucinations, and signs of psychosis.
Long-term use can lead to loss of concentration, irritability, loss of memory, paranoia, loss of energy, anxiety, and a loss of interest in sex. The controlling effect cocaine has on an addict's life can lead to exclusion of all other facets of life. A habit can cost an addict thousands of dollars a week to maintain.
This `high' quickly wears off, often leaving the user feeling more "down" or depressed than before. This down feeling leads the addict to use more cocaine, sometimes just to feel "normal." Over a period of time the amount of cocaine needed and the frequency of use to achieve a "high" have to be increased. Feelings of depression can become chronic.” (, www.drugfreebc.org/Issue-Cocaine.htm , www.cocaine-effects.com/ )

Max and I stared at each other, the wheels in our heads turning slowly but surely.
“Didn't Georgette's serious boyfriend leave her several months ago? My God," I said slowly, "She told me that he was much to focused on sex and it wasn't that important to her anymore. She said that she didn't have the time for it.” I remembered. Max nodded.
“And she's been dipping into her trust fund fairly deeply; I keep an eye on the family finances. She's been behind in her designs, and her assistant designers have actually been responsible for most of this year's collection.” I looked at him adding up all this information. “She's also lost at least fifteen pounds since August. She's really too skinny now, she's been sick much more than usual this year; she had bronchitis twice, and pneumonia once, and the flu two or three times this past year. Wow, I can't believe I didn't put all of this together before.”
“She's been quite snappish with Leonie for the past several months; with LJ too. She's been pretty even tempered with me, but she burst into tears the other day for no reason, and I know that she finished her period last week.” I shook my head. “Do you really think that Georgette could be a cocaine addict?” He looked down at his hands, grasping the back of my chair.
“God, Elizabeth. I don't know what to think anymore.”

Chapter 26
I didn't know what to do, he looked so devastated. I didn't know what to say, or anything. So I stood up and went to him, putting my arms around his waist and holding him to me tightly. His arms wrapped around me and he rested his head in the curve of my neck.
“I don't know what to think anymore.” We stood like that for a while, my heart overflowing with the still new revelations of love, and the joy that was welling in me that I alone had the right to hold him like this. The dangerous and heartbreaking possibilities about Georgette were present in my mind, but that joy would not be put aside.
Finally Max lifted his head and smiled down at me, still holding me to him tightly. Drawing his forefinger from my temple down my cheek to where the tops of my breast were visible above my shirt, he made a rough sound of pleasure as I shivered.
“I thank God for you, Elizabeth D'Arcy. I have no words to describe what you mean to me, and like now, you continually add to my speechlessness.” I smiled back at him and said,
“I love you Max. Whatever affects you affects me. I want you to know that I'm on your side and that I'm here for you. Not to be mushy or cliché or anything,” I added with a grin. He grinned back.
“I'm feeling pretty mushy and cliché myself.” He reached behind me and closed the laptop and led me back into the kitchen where he poured us each another glass of champagne. He toasted me, and then he picked up the phone.
“You're calling Charlie?” I asked confidently. “Do you want me to leave?” I got up from the kitchen stool as I said it, expecting an affirmative. Max shook his head violently and said,
“No, I want you here.” I hesitated. “Please.” Feeling pleased, I sat. It was another mark of his trust and affection for me that he wanted my input, especially on a subject of such delicacy to him. He smiled at me and reached for my hand. “Charlie? Max. Look, Elizabeth and I have been talking, and we've been putting two and two together. We've come up with a very interesting sixteen. What? I know five is the usual number. But we're quite confident that this sixteen, while unexpected, is reliable. And I'm sure Elizabeth is sitting here and plotting out every detail in that vivid brain of hers. No, I'm not going to stop her, because my imagination does not run away with me and I'm coming up with very similar conclusions. All right, we'll expect you in ten minutes.” He hung up. I stared at him.
“Why couldn't you tell him over the phone? Is it bugged?” Max laughed at the expression on my face.
“Probably not, and I know for sure that the apartment isn't, but Charlie has to be particularly careful in his line of work. I have gotten used to saying very little on the telephone to him.” I nodded in comprehension.
“Well, I guess I won't get into one of my negligees until he leaves, hmm?” Max's pirate's grin slashed across his face, the grin I was beginning to recognize and love.
“If you ever get into a negligee for a man other than me, I will probably take my belt to your pretty little bottom.” I giggled, and pretended to be shocked.
“Max! There are laws about that, you know.”
“Are you telling me, Elizabeth, that you wouldn't do the same to me if I modeled some of my boxer briefs that you find so irresistible for some other woman?” I thought about that.
“Well, I don't think I'd take my belt to you, because I couldn't hold you down. But I might seriously take a rolling pin to your head.” It was Max's turn to pretend horror.
“There are laws about that! Wives are not allowed to hit their husbands anymore with rolling pins.”
“Not without reasonable provocation, certainly,” I agreed solemnly. He smiled.
“You don't want to go there, baby.” I smiled.
“You're probably right. Tell you what, I'll assure you that I have absolutely no intention of modeling negligees for any other man than you, and you tell me that you have no intention of modeling boxer briefs for any other woman.”
“Sounds like a good deal to me,” Max said as the doorbell rang. “Wow, that was fast.” He went to the door and let Charlie into the apartment.
Charlie walked in and headed straight for the liquor cabinet in the corner of the living room.
“Hi, Elizabeth. How are you?” He finally asked after gulping down at least two shots of whiskey. Max watched in amusement.
“Bad day, huh. Sit. We'll tell you what we came up with.” Charlie obeyed, slumping into the cushions with a sigh.
“This had better be good, Max. It took a lot of effort to drag me out of my apartment tonight!” Max assured him that it would be.
“I think that Elizabeth had better start,” he said, and looked at me expectantly. I turned to Charlie and told him about Georgette's seemingly deliberate misinformation concerning Kristal DeMomerie. Charlie stared.
“That's ridiculous. Georgette has known Kristal and me since we were all children. She and Kristal went to the same finishing school in Switzerland. Georgette is several years older, but their years overlapped. And she certainly knows Max well enough to know he would never do anything of the kind!” I nodded.
“Yes, and I realized this once I had the facts and had time to cool down. She was pushing just a little too hard. And apparently she had spread the story all over. Helene certainly believed it. It seems that several people hypothesized that their affair was the real reason Max wanted a divorce; so he could marry her.” Charlie was staring at me, but I could tell he wasn't really seeing me. He was thinking very hard, examining something in his head.
“Yes, I see. It would all fit in,” he said absently. Max broke in,
“Elizabeth and I just researched cocaine addiction symptoms on the internet. As far as we can tell, Georgette has several of the symptoms that come after quite some time of cocaine addiction.” Charlie nodded slowly. I remembered something else, and I said it.
“Oh! And I caught her going into the hall that led to the terrace at the embassy ball. When we heard the motorboat for the first time, she tried to get me inside with some weird claim that she was cold. It must have been sixty five degrees at least, and I was quite comfortable, and her dress covered more than mine did. I only turned around when I heard the motorboat coming so close; they never do that. It is much too dangerous.” Charlie nodded again, clearly assimilating all this information.
“I never cared enough to seriously find out,” Max put in, “but Amanda was starting to show some of the same signs as Georgette. When I heard that LJ saw Georgette and Weeks being very cozy in the garden, I began to wonder at the connection. They both acted oddly, and the clear link between them is Weeks. Again, I am forced to wonder if Amanda's death was accidental after all.” Charlie stared at him.
“I vaguely remember you saying something at the time, but I didn't take you seriously. You didn't seem serious at all.” Max shrugged.
“It sounds terrible, but I honestly didn't care how she got out of my life as long as she left. I felt no sorrow for the person she had become, she was very unhappy.” Charlie and I both looked down at our drinks, remaining silent. Max shook off his mood of recollection and returned to the matter at hand. “Elizabeth made me think of an interesting point several days ago. She suggested that it was I who had been targeted when Amanda was killed. I said no, because Weeks knew it was her in my car, but what if that was the whole point? He seems to have loved her, but if she were a threat to his business he might have felt he had no choice. A choice would have to be made. For someone like Weeks who clearly wants money badly enough not to care how he gets it. . .” He trailed off, but Charlie and I were in no doubt of what he meant. I shivered, and Max put his arm around me, tugging me down to lean on his chest. He rested his chin on my head and looked at Charlie. “I want this resolved, and soon. I'll confront Georgette tomorrow with what I know, but I want Elizabeth safe. I know your people have wanted to get something definite on Weeks for some time; if we can convince her to testify we could get rid of him.” Charlie looked concerned.
“Max, with guys like Weeks it is never that simple. He'll have backers, he's got the money for bribery, and he'll have blackmail information. He'll have the kind of shark lawyers that don't give a damn about the truth as long as they get their fee. And anyone who testifies against him or helps in his downfall, especially if it doesn't come off, will be immediate targets of vengeance. Men like Weeks do not need to be free to make people disappear.” I shivered again and clutched at Max with fingers that I realized somewhere must hurt, but I couldn't bring myself to let go. He looked down at me in concern and tightened his arm around me.
“Charlie, I am not stupid enough to believe that you don't have enough on Weeks to know who his backers are, even if you can't touch them. And I know that the kinds of shark lawyers that this city turns out are not only on the side of the devils. In fact, if you feel your prosecutors can't handle it, I suggest you go to this man.” Max leaned forward with me still clutched to him, and wrote down a name and phone number on the back of an envelope. He handed it to Charlie who looked up in immediate recognition.
“Him? But he owns one of the most famous law firms in the city. In the world. We can't afford him.” Max smiled grimly.
“First of all, to protect my wife and my family I would pay the fee myself. It may come to that. But this man's daughter died of a cocaine overdose several years ago. It was kept quiet for the sake of his wife, who couldn't handle the shock and pain. She got the stuff from Weeks. Her father would do anything to see that man safely behind bars and kept away from other people's daughters.” Charlie drew his breath in sharply in surprise and comprehension.
“His daughter! But I heard she died of ptomaine poisoning before anyone could get her to the hospital!” Max nodded.
“And you, big bad agent, didn't think that the story was a little thin?” Charlie shrugged.
“I didn't think to question his word.” Max nodded.
“Precisely. His word is gold. That is the only time I can think of him using it to shield the truth, and that was solely to protect his family. I can understand that.” Charlie smiled slightly as he took in Max's fiercely protective air and the way he held me to him.
“Yes,” he said softly, “I suppose you can.” I looked at him, not quite understanding what he meant. But I didn't ask.
“Oh!” I said suddenly as I recollected something. “Max, the ship's log! I thought it was a little odd that a small pleasure boat like that should have a ship's log. And we gave it to Georgette to hold! Did she give it to the police?” Max's body tensed and he turned to Charlie who was regarding me with something akin to admiration.
“No, I don't believe she did. Well, that does make things more interesting, doesn't it?”
“What if,” I began, “that book was really a record of the people that Weeks buys and sells to? He is more of a middle man; he supplies to people who sell on the street, but he supplies certain special clients. The parties at his house would be a convenient way to dispense the stuff to people who don't have street connections.” Charlie's gaze was definitely admiring when he turned to Max.
“I see what you mean about not wanting to curb her imagination. Elizabeth, you just put all the nebulous thoughts that have been floating around in our heads into words. That would make sense. Ever since the man got society connections, he's been getting money hand over fist. Some of the very best people go to his parties, and I don't mean the best character-wise! As a means of getting the stuff, as Elizabeth said, to people without street connections, the parties would be perfect.” We all stared at each other as all the implications began to sink in.
“Oh, good Lord!” I said.
“Exactly,” Charlie said.

Chapter 27

When Charlie finally left, it was after midnight. He walked out the door with a promise to keep us posted, and a warning to Max not to see Georgette without informing him. Max promised, and we waved goodbye. As I walked into the kitchen carrying the champagne flutes and whiskey glasses, Max followed me to lean against the door-jamb. I put the glasses in the sink and turned to face him. He smiled gently, and I went to him, lifting my mouth for his kiss. He complied, but it was a slight brushing of lips, not the passionate clinch that had been occupying a much-needed corner of my mind for the past several hours. I stepped back with a frown, wondering. Max took my hand and led me back to the living room. I sat down across from him feeling uncomfortable and unsure, two emotions of which I am not fond at all. I stared at him uncomprehendingly, and he smiled again in amusement. This did not help my quickly deteriorating mood, and he could tell for he said,
“Don't start thinking that I don't want you, Elizabeth. I can see that you are just about to come to that conclusion. Don't go there. You know I do. But we both have so much on our minds; not only will this be your first time, it will be our first time together. I don't want it to be hurried and panicked because I'm worried about my sister and what is going to happen to us all. Comfort sex is not what I want for our first time.” I stared at him. I don't know what I was expecting him to say, but that wasn't it. I was slightly disappointed, oh forget that, I was very disappointed, because (to be honest) I had been looking forward to making love with Max ever since the first time I had seen him. But I understood--and I too did not want our first time together to be comfort sex. I sighed, but I put my hand back in his and smiled at him ruefully. He echoed my sigh and stretched out one leg and readjusted himself. Remembering what he had done to me the other night, I offered timidly,
“I could . . . do something to help, couldn't I?” He stared at me, and then smiled.
“You could, but I don't think that is a good idea tonight. Don't worry about me, I won't die.” But his smile was strained, and I could tell that it cost him to turn me down.
“You could, um, teach me what to do. I don't mind, truly.” Max stared at me some more and then sighed in surrender.
“I know I should be strong and say no, but I have wanted you for quite some time, and tonight is the worst it has been for a while. Maybe because I know that I can finally have you, but I haven't.” He shrugged. “You realize that you are probably in for the shock of your life?” He chuckled as I jumped up, flushing and grabbed his hand, dragging him after me towards the bedroom. “Well, it's probably all for the best; when we finally do go all the way, at least you'll have one or two less surprises.” I glanced at him, uncomprehending.
“I do have some vague idea of what to expect, but I also know enough to be sure that there is really no way imagining is going to take the place of reality.” He chuckled again as we stumbled into the bedroom and stopped me with both hands on my shoulders. His grin faded.
“You're trembling.” He lifted one hand to his lips. “Elizabeth, this is quite generous of you, but you must not if you don't want to do it.” I was not the only one trembling; his big body was quaking with the effort he was exerting to control himself.
In response I reached up and untied the leather cord he wears to tie his hair back. It fell loose across his back and shoulders. It was slightly longer than my own, brushing his back. It had a very slight wave, I knew, and he looked so sexy with it down that I just about swooned. I did, really. And my heart swelled with so much love for him that I felt as though I would burst.
“I love you,” I whispered as I reached up to kiss the corner of his mouth.
Everything seemed a little too extreme; the lights a little too bright, the colors a little too garish. My skin felt hot and tingly, and my heart was pumping as though I had been running. My breasts were starting to prickle, and I could feel the heat traveling down my belly and pooling between my thighs. I almost moaned when I felt a rush of liquid there. I tightened my thighs together to keep control of my own arousal. This was not for me; my husband needed some comfort and some respite, and I was going to provide it. I shrugged inwardly as I considered that I really didn't know what I was doing. Oh well, if I do something wrong he'll tell me, but he won't mind if I'm a little awkward.
My confidence took another leap forward, and I suddenly felt so at home with my own femininity that I could hardly breathe. I was abruptly aware of the differences between my body and his, and that he was a very powerful man. But I was even more aware of the fact that he was tempering that strength for me, that he would use it fearlessly in my defense but that he would never, ever hurt me or allow me to be hurt.
I turned a glowing smile on Max, and I could feel my eyes grow heavy-lidded as I read the signs of his desire; his eyes were black and languorous like my own; his breath was coming quickly and his nostrils were flared. His fists were clenched at his sides to keep from seizing me, I knew, and his entire body was shaking with fine tremors that betrayed the toll his self-control was taking. My eyes traveled slowly down his body, and rested where the evidence of my effect on him was most obvious. I could feel my eyes grow round as I finally gave in to my curiosity. Twenty-four year-old virgins are not thick on the ground, and I was suddenly aware of all the time we had wasted. Well, no more of that! I stepped towards Max and began to undo the buttons of his shirt. He grew very still whenever my fingers brushed the thick cloud of hair that I knew formed a wedge on his chest, arrowing down to where it would, I guessed, nest around his groin. I looked up and saw his impatience, which matched my own, and I decided to go for it. Grasping one side of his collar in each hand, I tugged sharply, and the buttons went flying off every which way. It was his turn to be surprised, but not for long.
“I'll buy you a new one,” I promised as my hands went exploring over his chest, finding the diamond-points of his nipples. I confess to being fascinated with the way his muscles bunched and rippled under his skin when I touched my tongue to them. I did it again, this time grazing them gently with my teeth, and I heard him give a groan that rumbled in his chest by my ear. Any thoughts of Weeks or Georgette were long gone from our minds as my fingers quested lightly over his biceps and trailed down to brush over his abdomen. He growled again, and I looked up at him, laughing. I pushed him backwards as hard as I could, and he allowed himself to fall onto the bed. I quickly joined him, crawling over him eagerly as I explored. He clutched the bedclothes in his efforts to hang on.
I realized that this was not the time for the extensive sensual explorations I wanted to do, and I moved to take off his shoes. For some reason, I had not noticed that he was wearing his cowboy boots; they are also incredibly sexy on him. He always has an air about him, but the boots gave him, oh I don't know, an extra oomph. He thinks I'm nuts, but I love it when he wears those boots. I realized that I had been staring at them, and he gave another growl to call me back to business. I yanked off the boots and his socks, and was then transfixed by his feet. They were strong and graceful, like the rest of him, and remembering something I had read, I trailed my fingertips over the soles and pressed my thumbs into his arches. His body arched suddenly, not much, but enough to call my attention back to his face. There was perspiration on his forehead and upper lip. He tried twice before he could speak.
“I knew you'd be hell on wheels, but I didn't realize quite how dangerous all those romance novels were!” He attempted a smile, but it didn't quite come off. I stared at him in fascination, then crawled up alongside him to straddle his stomach and kiss him. He submitted to my lead, and I stormed his mouth and sucked his lower lip and nipped it before moving down to where his pulse beat strongly in the hollow at the base of his neck. I kissed it lightly and then bit at it gently, laving it with my tongue. His hands left the bed clothes to clutch at my waist, his fingers biting into my flesh as he held me still.
“Do you think we could get my jeans off? I haven't come in my pants since I was a teenager.” Startled, I examined his face. Well, I suppose that's something only experience can tell; I had no idea he was so close. He read my expression correctly, and tried to chuckle. It failed miserably, and he shook his head. “Later,” he promised. I nodded and went to work at his belt buckle and then the button and zipper of his jeans, easing it down carefully. I saw `Something About Mary!' I eased the pants off his hips and scooted down to the bottom of the bed to tug them off. I left them on the floor and moved back up the bed to Max, who was now clad only in those boxer briefs that I love on him. Actually, I love almost anything on him. But not as much, I was learning, as I liked everything off of him!
I stared at the shape of him through the briefs, he looked big; not too long but thick. Helplessly, I wondered exactly how we would fit. I mean, objectively I know babies come out that way, but even so, I didn't see how it would work. In fact, I was a little afraid that it would hurt. I pushed the thought aside and concentrated on the man before me.
I shivered as I looked at him, stretched out before me like a sacrifice. Mmm, I liked the image. I reached out to run my fingertips from his pecs on a circuitous route to his navel, where I lingered for a while before following the same route with my open mouth. He groaned, and his body again arched up convulsively.
“Please!” he begged. I wasn't quite sure what he wanted, but I knew it had something to do with taking off the briefs. To be honest, I was rather surprised he was lasting so long. And I was even more surprised that he hadn't taken matters into his own hands; I mean, he could have hurried me up quite a bit. But he had let me go pretty much at my own pace. My hands crept a little nervously to the waistband of his briefs. I peeled them down and off his legs, keeping my gaze turned away until they too were resting on the floor. Then I turned back to him, and I could not repress a gasp.
I'm not entirely sure what I was expecting, but that wasn't quite it. I had some idea, but I was almost totally unprepared for the reality. I stared in fascination, and reached out a tentative hand and stroked him there. The skin was hot and very silky. A near howl broke from his lips, and he said again,
“Please!” I was nowhere near ready to give up my explorations, but I realized that he was in a state approaching agony, so I said,
“What should I do?” He was panting, and I had to listen carefully to understand him.
“Take me in your hand, yes! Like that. Now squeeze. Harder. Yes! Yes! Now move your hand. Yes, like that. Yes.” As I watched, mesmerized, a clear drop of liquid came out of the little slit on the head. I touched it with my other hand and brought it to my lips to taste. It was salty, and I did not particularly enjoy the taste, but I shrugged. I might as well know it all. So, keeping my fist tight around him, I brushed a kiss across the tip of him. Again, he howled. “Please! Take me . . . yes! Please. Elizabeth!” His reactions were amazing. I ran my tongue up the ridge on the underside, inhaling the musky scent, and licked the tip again. At his command, I moved my fist further down and put my mouth around him. I had begun to experiment between laving him with my tongue and sucking gently, when he was suddenly unable to remain still for one minute longer. His hips jutted up, thrusting himself further into my mouth. I was startled, for I hadn't expected that, but I adjusted and complied when he ordered, “Suck!” and thrust his hips up once more before I could feel him beginning to shake. A deep groan burst from him as I took a deep breath and allowed him to come in my mouth.

Chapter 28
Max lay there, totally limp for a few minutes while I went and cleaned up. As I stood in the bathroom doorway looking into the bedroom, I grinned. I liked having him in my power like that, and I enjoyed giving him such pleasure even more. Then I had a thought, and I shivered. My husband had proved he was very good at reciprocating; it would be my turn next. Max turned his head and saw me there, gazing at him in pure aesthetic enjoyment. (Well, maybe not pure aesthetic thoughts; they were in fact quite explicit and erotic and involved, among other things, those silk stockings I had bought for my wedding. Max grinned and held out his hand to me, saying
“I'd give a hell of a lot of money to hear those thoughts.”

I grinned again, meeting his eyes. “Don't worry; you will soon, and free of charge.” He shivered, and I delighted in the reaction I have on him. I walked forward and took his hand, and he pulled me down on the bed next to him. I curled up against his chest with my head resting on his shoulder and played idly with his chest hair. He tightened his arms around me and pressed a kiss in my hair.
“Elizabeth. . .”
“Hmm?” I asked, not looking up. But that would not do. He moved his hand from my waist and tilted up my chin so that he could look into my eyes. I blushed, for the expression in them was one I had never seen before; passionate and tender and inherently satisfied in every way. He smiled his glorious smile, and I could feel my knees turn to oatmeal and my lower body clenched involuntarily.
“You're amazing, he said.” I smiled, but he wasn't done. “I . . . I am so lucky to have you.” I was puzzled; this is not characteristic Max talk. I waited. He kissed my nose lightly, then closed his eyes and rested his forehead on mine. He was still slightly sweaty, and I could smell his clean, masculine scent that was his alone. I inhaled with pleasure and waited some more. “Elizabeth, I love you.”
I was frozen for an instant, unsure what had happened. And then everything became clear. I wanted to jump up and scream my exultation, to set off fireworks, to climb the Empire State Building and tell everyone that he loved me. But I did none of these things. Instead, I took his face between my hands and brought it a little further away and waited until he opened his eyes so I could see them. He stared into my eyes and I could see the effort it had taken to say the words. I touched my lips gently to his and drew back again so he could see my grin. I felt as though I would burst from happiness, and my face must have shown it, for he started laughing in joy. I was giggling, and soon we were laughing great, belly-laughs that seemed to ring around us and echo so the whole room shook with our joy.
We slept entwined that night, and the next morning I did not hesitate to stay where I was; which was, rather astonishingly, sprawled full-length on top of my husband. I lay there for some time, enjoying the feel of him beneath me and reveling in the freedom I felt with him. I shifted slightly to look at his face and I saw his eyes open slowly. He smiled a sleepy morning grin, and stretched. I held on, for it was a bumpy ride, situated where I was. He chuckled, his voice huskier than usual, and stretched again, this time keeping one big hand clamped on my waist to steady me. I laughed this time, and his free hand went to join the other at my waist. His grin faded, his expression growing more intense, and I suddenly became thrillingly aware of his morning erection prodding my lower belly. Involuntarily I shifted slightly, and his hands clamped down harder, a rumble sounded through his chest. I stilled instantly, and immediately images popped into my head--images of me on top of him, but with certain pertinent differences; no clothes, for example. As though he could read my mind, he growled,
“I get to be on top first.” I stared at him, my body heating at the words and the tone, and a slight blush colored my cheeks at his expression of checked desire. Again, as I had been doing for days, I lifted my eyes to heaven and thanked God for my husband. How many women have a man like this? I can answer that; none. Max is unique. Strong, loyal, intelligent, compassionate, and his word of honor could be carried to the bank as loan collateral. I have always dreamed about marrying a man like him, and I cannot wait to have his babies.
“About protection,” he said abruptly, “I know you got those birth control patches, but remember that I can take care of it with no health risk.”

I smiled, and said, “Mmhmm. So can I. But I will definitely tell you if I feel at all uneasy about the patch.” He nodded, apparently satisfied. I lowered my head and brushed my lips against his, lifting my head almost immediately. He growled again, his hands rough at my waist, and lifted his head, following mine up and not allowing the contact to be broken. I smiled against his lips, and he felt it; he gripped me tighter and moved one hand to cradle my neck. The next thing I knew, I was lying flat on my back and he was above me, his weight crushing me into the bed. He was heavy, but I didn't care; I loved the feel of him on top of me. My eyelids felt heavy, as though I was sleepy, but I have never been so awake. I smiled at him, my mouth curving slowly, and he stared down at me with a fixed expression on his face. Not quite understanding why, my tongue flicked out to lave my bottom lip. He drew his breath in sharply and his body stiffened in a way I did not understand. He lowered his head to kiss my temple, and I reached behind him and untied his hair so that it fell in a curtain around us. It is longer than mine, and very black, so it was as if we were in our own private universe. Nothing existed but his dark eyes burning into mine, and the sensations of his hard body pressing down on mine insistently. I felt as though I were in a whirlpool, feelings rushing through my body faster than I could identify them. Max was kissing me the way, I imagine, a man kisses a woman he intends to take to bed; there was no control, no reserve--only open passion and he took my mouth as though he was taking my body.
And then someone knocked on the bedroom door. Max stilled above me, his body going stiff in a very different way than it had several minutes before. He shifted off of me and gestured for me to hide in the bathroom. I did so, my head spinning with the abrupt change. Max rolled off of the bed and as swiftly and quietly as a big cat went to stand behind the door. There was another knock, and a voice called,
“Max? Elizabeth? It's Georgette. I'm sorry to barge in, but I really need to talk to you.” I stared at Max from the crack in the bathroom door. He seemed undecided, and I could understand his feelings. We had nearly conclusive proof that Georgette was in cahoots (I love that word) with Greg Weeks. That meant that we could not trust her. Perhaps Weeks was with her right this second, and they were going to kill us. I could feel fear rising in me and I pushed it down angrily. That was no help. I looked around frantically for something that I could do to help and my eyes fell on the portable phone that I had put back on the hook just outside the bathroom door.
I cracked the door open carefully and reached out quickly to grab the phone. In a few seconds, I had it and was back in the bathroom as before. I scanned my memory quickly for Charlie's number, and the frustration that overwhelmed me when I could not recall it was unbelievable. But I had a solution. I dialed LJ's number and asked her quietly if Charlie was there. He was. (Hmm. I wonder what they were doing. No, I don't want to go there.)
“Charlie, I'm hiding in the master bathroom. Georgette is at the door of the bedroom, and she says she wants to talk to me and Max. He's out in the bedroom trying to figure out what to do. We don't know if Weeks is there with her, and you know we can't trust her.” Charlie instantly understood the situation and informed me that he would be there in less than five minutes. I hung up, my fingers trembling, and peeked out into the bedroom again. How had Georgette gotten in? In a moment, I had answered my question. She had a key, and of course she knew the security code. I cursed mine and Max's carelessness in not at least changing the code. We had been unpardonably lax. While I stood there in agonies, I heard Georgette again. This time there was a note of fear in her voice.
“Max, Elizabeth, please. I really need to talk to you. Weeks may have had me followed; he could be here any minute. I really need to talk to you.” I heard Max give an almost inaudible sigh. I looked at him and knew what he was thinking. This was his little sister, one of the few people in the world he had trusted with everything. He was agonizing over whether he could still trust her at all. Could she betray her own brother? I had no illusions about my own status; it seemed more than likely that she had been somehow involved with Amanda D'Arcy's death. With a final gesture for me to keep out of sight, Max opened the door cautiously. I stayed away from the door, dying a thousand deaths as all the horrible things that could happen rushed through my head simultaneously. I waited for what seemed like forever, and then I heard the sound of several voices on the other side of the bedroom door and realized that Charlie had joined us. A footstep sounded a second before the bathroom door opened.
Max stood there, still only clad in his boxer briefs. He had a pair of jeans in his hand, and tossed me my velvet robe.
“Come on,” he said encouragingly. “It's all right.” He stepped into his jeans as I buttoned the robe together, folding my arms protectively over my stomach. He buttoned the jeans and stepped forward to take me in his arms. “Don't worry, darling. I promise I won't let anything happen to you.” I clung to him and silently repeated the promise. I won't let anything happen to you, Max.”

Chapter 29

When we got out into the living room, I saw that Georgette was seated on the couch with Charlie standing in a deceptively casual pose, one shoulder propped against the wall in the corner facing her. Georgette seemed to have collapsed in on herself; she seemed smaller than usual, and her usual sparkling mien was conspicuously absent. I glanced at Max, who stood at my side. His gaze was fixed on his sister, and I could feel his determination. I relaxed slightly; the situation was under control. Charlie, Max and I stood around Georgette. It seemed to make her nervous, but I was disinclined to make her more comfortable by sitting near her. I took a seat in one of the big armchairs across from her. Max glanced at me and then followed, picking me up and sitting down again with me in his lap. As Georgette took in his protective stance, she smiled wanly. The change in her was really startling. No one spoke; the silence was nearly deafening. Finally, Georgette sat up straight and clasped her hands on her knees, fixing her eyes on them as she began.
“I'm not really sure where to begin, except to tell you that Greg Weeks is an evil man, and I want to stop him.” She paused.

“How's this; we'll tell you what we know, and you can fill in the blanks,” Charlie broke in. She nodded, and seemed grateful. “Weeks is a coke dealer; he supplies to wealthy clients who have no street connections. The stuff is handed out at his parties. That accident at the embassy dock was not altogether an accident; their instructions were to unload it there into Weeks' car for almost immediate distribution. You have been using for some time now, and Weeks has something on you to make you help him. For some reason, he wants Max out of the picture, and you encouraged Elizabeth's paranoia over Kristal and spread rumors that Max and Kristal were involved in an affair.” He raised his eyebrows. “Any comments?”

Georgette shrugged. “You seem to have it all pretty well figured out. Of course Max and Kristal weren't having an affair, but it was very convenient. Max was getting too suspicious; the drug boat crashing at the embassy while Elizabeth was on the terrace was a stroke of bad luck. She went in, and Max immediately became involved, even more so when it seemed that Weeks was involved.” She laughed hollowly. “The bastard. The idea was to distract Max by giving him a lot to handle at home -I know Elizabeth. If she really had believed that he was cheating on her, Max would have had a tigress on his hands. Infidelity is something that she would never tolerate.” She sighed and collapsed again. “And yes, I have been using for some time. Amanda met Weeks through me and she was addicted by the time she died. He killed her.” She looked up at us, seemingly startled that none of us seemed surprised. “Didn't you hear me? He killed her.”

Charlie nodded. “Yes, we suspected as much. Why?”

Georgette sighed again. “Because she was going to tell Max that I was involved. I was spending everything I had on drugs. For assistance in planning the deliveries and giving him the social cachet he needed, Weeks gives me a good discount.” She shuddered. “God help me. He killed her because she found out. And then I could never go back.”

Max shifted in his chair, and my arms went around him protectively.

“Were you in on the murder?” Charlie asked carefully.

“NO! Dear God, no. I only knew about it afterwards. When he told me that if I tried to quit, if I tried to leave, that he had enough evidence to have me convicted.” She buried her face in her hands. “I just can't stand it anymore. I had to stop; it kills people, body and soul. I hate it-but I can't stop needing it.”

I was watching her closely and I saw her too-thin hands shaking slightly. I felt a rush of pity; this woman was at the mercy of her body and her mind. She no longer had control and she had paid for it. I stroked Max's hair slowly, feeling his body tense and angry beneath mine. His hands gripped my waist almost too hard, but they didn't hurt and he didn't notice.

“What do you want us to do, Georgette?” I asked coolly.

She turned to look at me. “I want Charlie and Max to help me get Weeks in prison, if he can't be killed. And I want to get off this horrible stuff. He can control me with it; he can control my life and my future, and I won't have either if I can't stop.” The determination in her voice galvanized her. She sat up straighter and she seemed stronger than before. “I know that what I have been doing is wrong, and if there must be consequences I will have to face them. But I want Weeks finished.”

Charlie and Max exchanged a significant glance, and then Charlie nodded.
“All right, Georgette," he said calmly, "I know of a good rehab center in Northern Westchester where I'll send you right now.” He yanked out his cell phone and made a call to his agency base in the city to send a discreet car and a driver to Max's address. “They're the only ones that I know won't talk and won't be involved in this,” he explained. “Max, with the evidence that I have gathered and what the police already know, I think we have enough to get a conviction. It might not be necessary; I will see what can be done to get around it, but if Georgette will testify, I think I can safely promise to put Weeks away for a very long time.”

“What is the probability of him being killed?” Max asked coolly. “That seems a safer possibility.”

Charlie shrugged regretfully. “That would be nice, wouldn't it? However, we must work within the law. At least,” he winked, “those of us must who work inside the US.”

Max nodded and grinned slightly. “Well, we could kidnap him and drop him into the middle of Mogadishu, or some warlord's stronghold in Afghanistan, or some other convenient hotspot.”

Charlie laughed. “I'll see what I can do. You call Lara Croft.”

Even Georgette laughed at that one. Charlie's cell went off and he answered it.
“Bryant. Yeah. I'm coming down now. Great.” He flipped the phone shut and gestured towards the door. “Your chariot awaits, my lady. We'll send clothes on to you.”

Georgette nodded and smiled gratefully towards the three of us. “Thanks.”

She was gone. Charlie followed her out the door and into the car, where they drove off.

Max left me where I stood by the window to lock the doors and reset the alarm, then said with a sigh, “Well, in the interest of avoiding comfort sex yet again, how about breakfast?”

I nodded. “Wow, this is quite an eventful honeymoon we've had. We'll have to have a rest afterwards.” He chuckled and put on a pot of coffee. “Max, how is this going to affect us? I mean, if Georgette is testifying, that will put us in danger, won't it?”

Max sighed. "I don't know for sure, but it might. You, LJ, Leonie and your parents might have to go somewhere. Being in the DEA and all, Charlie can probably put a man or two to guard you.”

I turned to him indignantly. “You think I'd just go blithely off and leave you to face it? You're her brother; she's going to care more about you than me, and anyone who wants to use someone against her will use you and Leonie. Dammit Max, I'm not going anywhere without you!” I was shouting at him, and when I realized it I put my hand over my mouth and turned away.

I felt him behind me before he placed his hands on my shoulders, rubbing gently.

“Shh, my baby. It's ok. Nothing's going to happen to me, and I won't let anything happen to you or your family.”

I turned angrily, and it was hard not to yell the words; “Don't you understand, you big oaf? When I stood up there at that altar, you became my family. The most important member of it. And the thing about family is that you protect it-and I'm not about to let anything happen to you, especially not because you have a Superman complex!” I was shouting again and I bit my lip.

He hugged me to him. “All right Elizabeth, we'll make a decision together-but after that, I want you to listen to me very carefully. If there comes a time when you or I or any of the others is in immediate danger, I want you to listen to me. What I say goes, all right? When there is time to consult and come to an agreement, know that I will do so, and unless I can't help it I won't decide anything without your input. But I want you to promise me that when I say jump, you jump!”

I stared at him, trying to wrap my mind around this. My first reaction, instilled in me by my feminist mother, was to say “Screw you, I make my own decisions” but that was just a knee-jerk reaction; even my mother wouldn't say that. Finally, I agreed. “All right, Max. If the situation arises, I will do what you say; but you promise that if there's time you'll ask me?”

He nodded. “Yes, I promise. I know perfectly well that you are rational and intelligent and never panic. I am not underestimating you, woman! Now, how about some coffee?”

Chapter 30

Max went into the office that morning; he said that he was caught up, but just in case things started hopping back at the ranch, he wanted to be a little ahead. I do admire his work-ethic, but I hope that he will be able to take vacations when we plan to do so. He had better not even bring a briefcase when we have our real honeymoon. As I had been doing ever since he told me, I hugged the knowledge of his love to me and felt tingles run all over my body. I had never imagined that being in love would feel like this; I still felt on top of the world despite the mess we were getting into with Georgette and Weeks. I wondered when we would have time to go on a real honeymoon. And that reminded me-I picked up the telephone and called my parents' house in Westchester.

“Mom? It's Elizabeth. Yes, I'm fine. Would it be all right if I came up for a while this afternoon? I have something that I need to discuss with you and Dad. Is he there? Oh. When will he be back from work? OK, well this is something that I need both of you to be there for, so I'll come up then. Hmm? Oh, I'd love to stay for dinner and I'm sure Max would love to accompany me. No, we're not coming to pick up Leonie, but that's what I wanted to talk to you about. Yes, we'll be driving. No, don't worry about it. That sounds wonderful. Thanks, Mom. Love you.” I hung up and called Max at work.

“Max? It's Elizabeth.”

“Mmhmm. I recognize your voice.”

“I'm so glad to hear that.”

“This isn't an obscene phone-call, is it?”

“No darling, I'm still a little repressed for that. Maybe once you've loosened me up a little.”

“Count on it. I have a vested interest in seeing just how loose and flexible you can be. I assure you, I am quite eager to start your training.”

“So am I. But Max, I called for a reason. We need to explain to my parents why they need to keep Leonie for a while longer, and we need to explain to her that we love her, because she will not understand why she can't come back with us. I want to talk to both my Mom and Dad about this; they are intelligent and might even be able to offer insight. So I accepted a dinner invitation on our behalf for around seven. That way we can see Leonie before she goes to bed.”

“OK, I love your Mom's cooking. How long does it usually take to drive up there?”
“Umm, about an hour. I'd like to leave around ten to six.”

“That's not a problem. I told you I was all caught up, so I should be able to leave on time tonight.”

“Wonderful. I'll see you then, darling.”

“Goodbye, Elizabeth. I love you.” I was silent for a moment.

“I love you too, Max. Have a good day.”

Once my phone calls were finished, I glanced at the clock and rushed into the shower. I had another meeting with Charlotte about the honeymoon-disaster series. She had done most of the ground-work, and she wanted to pick my brain for any other issues that I might come up with or particulars about prizes. I dressed quickly and ran out the door to the subway.

When I arrived, Charlotte ushered me into her office and offered coffee which I declined.

“So,” she said, once the pleasantries had been completed. “Princess cruise lines has agreed to give the winning author two tickets on their Caribbean cruises sailing from New York, redeemable at any time as long as there is a two-month notice period. I thought that would be better than tickets for a particular date. We want this to be a second honeymoon, not a logistical nightmare for anyone with kids and a job.”

I grinned. “That was smart, Charlotte. And Princess- that's wonderful! Whatever did you do to convince them?” I wasn't looking at her as I asked the question, but I glance back when she was slow in answering. I saw that she was blushing!

“Well,” she said slowly, “I know the Vice-president in charge of promotions slightly and I put the proposal to him. He thought that it would be a wonderful publicity gimmick, and I agreed to put a full-page color ad for Princess in our issues once a month when we run the articles. It was a good deal all around.”

I chuckled. “Charlotte, you do have a way with people and money.” She laughed. “And what is the name of this Vice-President in charge of promotions?” I asked slyly.

She blushed again. “Oh, his name is Richard Fitzwilliam. We actually went to college together.”

“He went to NYU?”

“Mmhmm. We were friendly then, but kind of lost touch.”

“Is he cute? I know he must be, the way you're acting.”

“Well, I always thought he was cute but he was never interested in me.”

“How do you know?”

“Well, he certainly never said anything.”

“It looks as though you didn't either.”

“No, but he said something now and asked me out to dinner on Friday.”

“Ooh!” I clapped delightedly. Charlotte deserved this; after her nightmare divorce with the slimy, awful Bill Collins three years ago, she hasn't dated much. She says that she doesn't trust her judgment. But apparently her taste as a college girl had been much better. “Oh!” I said again. “Richard Fitzwilliam!! He's Max's cousin.”

Charlotte stared at me. “He is not.”

“Oh yes he is! But he was abroad on business and couldn't get back in time for the wedding, so I've never actually met him. But he and Max email, I know, and they have always been fairly good friends. Max's mother was Richard's father's sister, I think.”

Charlotte was still staring at me. “But that's unbelievable. What a small world.”

“Yes. Apparently, in Max's mother's family it is customary to name the first son after his mother's maiden name, but his mother thought that Fitzwilliam D'Arcy was much too formal.”

“Oh right; so she named him Maximilien. That's really unpretentious.”

I laughed, and conceded the point. “But, Charlotte, that's marvelous. Where are you going?”

She shrugged. “I let him pick. He's paying after all.”

“And where did he pick?”

“Uhh, I think he picked Cipriani.”

I stared at her. “Charlotte, you do know that it is nearly impossible to get reservations there unless you are a god or something next to it?”
She nodded.
“Good Lord. You need a new dress,” I said decisively. “I'm thinking sky blue silk.”

Charlotte laughed nervously. “Oh, that's not necessary. I'll wear black.”

I shook my head. “Not on a first date with Max's cousin, who is taking you to Cipriani. That's a big deal.”

Finally, Charlotte was convinced and promised to let me know when she wanted to go shopping. I was going to come. At last, we retouched on the article issue. The invitation for stories of nightmare honeymoons was going out in this week's issue, and Charlotte estimated we would be ready to go to press with the first series within a month. She wanted my article by then, and had suggested that as long as we were printing the stories, I should write about things that were wedding and honeymoon related. I agreed. The stories would run for two months, which mean four articles from me on the subject. I was already running through a list of possible subjects when Charlotte and I parted; I to go home for lunch and bake a pie to bring to my parents, and Charlotte (as she said) to go back to work; but I had a sneaking suspicion that she would dream of Richard for a while.

Chapter 31

Max came home on time that night and brightened visibly when he saw me waiting for him with two gin and tonics.
“Wonderful,” he said. “I can definitely use this.” I smiled as he kissed me lightly.
“My father will probably make them for everyone again when we get there, but I thought you might need one. How was your day?” (I love saying that-I feel so wifely!)
“Well, it was mostly everyday maintenance. Now that the restructuring of the departments is nearly over, things work much more smoothly. I wonder why I didn't think of it before. I have much more time now, because I can delegate effectively. That is a wonderful thing, Elizabeth. I never realized the value of effective delegation until I couldn't do it.” He leaned back into the couch and put his arm around me, snuggling me against his side. He took a sip of his drink and grinned. “I can see you are certainly your father's daughter; this is three-quarters gin.” I smiled back.
“I learned well. Besides, tonic water doesn't taste very good; I figure that three to one is a good ratio.” He chuckled.
“What did you do today?”
“Well, I went to the office for a meeting with Charlotte. She's going through with the honeymoon disaster theme and wants me to write wedding-related stories for the next two months when they run the other stories.” We both finished our drinks and stood up. Max grabbed his keys, and we walked downstairs to the garage below the building. “I don't think that that will be a problem. I mean, I just planned and executed a wedding; I know about all that needs to be done. And luckily I didn't really write about it while it was happening.” Max nodded.
“Well, it sounds like you already have a plan.” I smiled and agreed. “So Elizabeth, what exactly are we going to tell your parents tonight?” I shrugged.
“I'm not sure. What do you think?” He thought for a minute.
“Well, they are quite intelligent, so it might be a good idea to tell them all of it or at least most of it.”
“I agree. We need to tell them enough that they can keep Leonie safe. And speaking of Leonie, what are we going to tell her?” Max groaned.
“Ugh, I don't know. We can't tell her much; she's too young to understand and she would be terrified if she could. We have to tell her that Mommy and Daddy have a problem that needs to be taken care of and we want her to stay with Grandma and Grandpa because we won't be around until it's fixed. And we need to come down and see her every weekend.”
“I don't know how to tell her without hurting her feelings. I definitely don't want her to feel that now I'm around she's not welcome and I don't want her to think that we don't want her. But we have to keep her safe, and this is the only way I can think of doing that.” Max nodded.
“I know. But this is the only way. She has to be safe. “
“Oh Max, if you don't mind, I think we shouldn't tell my parents how LJ is mixed up in this. They have enough to deal with. She's not a central character, so let's leave out the whole Weeks thing.”
“All right I agree that they don't necessarily need to know that. You know them better.” I smiled and turned on the radio, and we sat in silence for the rest of the drive.

We got to my parents a little before seven and pulled into the driveway. Max grabbed the pie from me as I got out of the car, and we walked up the stairs to the front door. My mother opened it, and Leonie came running. I handed the pie to my mom quickly as Leonie threw herself at me. I hugged her close and told her how much I had missed her. She kissed me on the cheek and then threw herself into Max's arms. He picked her up and twirled her around until she was shrieking with laughter. Then he gave her a smacking kiss on the cheek and told her that he had missed her. At my mother's instruction, Leonie went off to get into her pajamas.
While she was gone, Max and I told my parents that there was some danger in the city and that we needed Leonie to stay safe, and asked if they would consider keeping her for a while--probably for several weeks. They were surprised, but quickly agreed, to our intense relief. We didn't have time to properly explain the situation, but we told them that we wanted to talk to Leonie about leaving her with my parents. They agreed that that would be a good idea. Leonie came running back into the living room at this point with a finger-paint picture that she had made with my mother for me.
“Leonie, it's gorgeous! Thank you so much. It's a horse, right?
“Uh huh. And there's me, and there's Grandma, and you and Daddy.” Daddy came and oohed and aahed with me. My mom and dad stood back and beamed. I looked over my shoulder at them and smiled. They looked so pleased to have another grandchild, even if she wasn't biological. “Will you and Daddy put me to bed, Mama?” Leonie asked. I laughed and hugged her.
“Of course, baby. Daddy and I would love to put you to bed.” My mom and dad went back into the living room as Max and I followed Leonie down the hall to her bedroom-which, incidentally, used to be mine and is now the nursery for visiting grandchildren. Leonie jumped into bed and looked at us expectantly. “Leonie, your father and I need to talk to you about something.” I looked at Max, who gestured for me to continue. “Leonie, you've been having fun with Grandma and Grandpa, haven't you?” She nodded.
“Yeah. Grandma took me to Muscoot Farm to see the aminals, and then we went to the mall and she let me ride the merry-go-round, and Grandpa tells me stories and helps me walk on the ceiling.” I smiled, remembering when I was being taken on these trips and walking on the ceiling.
“Mommy and Daddy have something they need to do for a while and we won't be home much, so we thought you might like to stay with Grandma and Grandpa.” Leonie nodded.
“Yes, I like Grandma and Grandpa. Are you and Daddy staying too?” I shook my head and looked at Max.
“I'm sorry baby but we can't. We'll come and stay with Grandma and Grandpa and you on the weekends, though. But we don't want you to get lonely. So once this rush is over, you'll come back with us to the city. Is that all right?” Leonie sat with her brow furrowed for a moment and then beamed at us.
“Yeah. Oh, wanna see the poster I made? It has my name on it.” I was rather surprised that she was so calm; it was somewhat anticlimactic. I looked at Max in confusion but he smiled.
“We would love to see your poster. Then I'm going to read you a story and Mama is going to sing you a song, and then you need to go to sleep.”
“Ok,” Leonie smiled as she snuggled down in bed. “Can you read Mama's fairy tale? Grandma has a book of Mama's stories.” Max grinned and looked at me.
“She what? Oh yeah. I guess I forgot to bring it with me,” I blushed. “I wrote those fairy tales a long time ago, honey. Are you sure you wouldn't like another?” Leonie shook her head.
“I want the one about Jasper. I like that one.” Max looked at me again as I sat waiting for his opinion. (http://www.geocities.com/s3ag0dd3ss/CompleteStories/onceuponatime.doc ) Leonie giggled in all the right places, and Max did all the voices properly. When the story was over, I sang her a song from Anastasia and we wished her goodnight. Max turned on the night light and then shut the door.

Chapter 32

Max took my hand in his as we walked back to the dining room. My parents had set out all the food and the table was set. As I had predicted, my father had made gin and tonics-the same way I do, with much more gin than tonic. We sat down and the food was passed around, and there was a general silence as the food was consumed. My mother is a wonderful cook, and when the options are eating her food or talking, even about such a serious subject that we had to touch on, talking definitely lost out. She had made one of my favorite dinners, fettuccine with salmon and dill cream sauce. Judging from the silence emanating from my husband and the amount he was consuming, he certainly didn't have a problem with it either. Most of the conversation was limited to,
“Mom, this is amazing.”
“Kathleen, this is wonderful. Elizabeth's told me about this, but she understated the matter.”
“You have outdone yourself.” My father leaned over to kiss her cheek. I love how my parents are affectionate with each other. Max and I had better be the same when we're older. I looked over at him and found him looking at me with a peculiar look on his face. I tilted my head and asked a question with my eyes. He smiled at me and temporarily let me see the burning heat in his eyes. I blushed and smiled back, and he squeezed my hand under the table and let his hand rest on my thigh. I squirmed in my chair slightly and then focused on my parents. When dinner was finished, I helped my mother clear the table and put out the pie I had made onto a plate. It was peach and ginger, my father's favorite. My mother got out the vanilla ice cream, and we laughed as we reminisced about past years doing the same thing. She scooped the ice cream into a bowl, and I put on the coffee machine. She got the dessert plates, forks, and spoons and I made a tray with the coffee pot and four cups, saucers, spoons, sugar and milk. Once all the trips were made into the dining room, I resumed my seat and my mother began to cut the pie.
“What kind of pie is it, Elizabeth?” my father asked. I smiled at him.
“It's your favorite-peach and ginger. I used Mom's piecrust recipe, too. I hope it's good.” Max grinned.
“I'm sure it is. I have great faith in you, and if you used your Mom's recipe, I don't see how you could go wrong.” Dad laughed.
“You've got that right, Max. Whenever Kathleen went away once she was in high school, Elizabeth would cook dinner. It was something of a relief, when Kathleen was on a diet, because Elizabeth would cook things that weren't on the diet. We certainly enjoyed her cooking.”
“Yes, she doesn't need to cook at home, but she does frequently because she likes to.” He smiled again. “And I certainly don't mind.” My mom and I shared a look. The pie was finished quickly, and I brought the coffee into the living room. Max and I sat on one couch, with his arm around me and my parents sat on the other couch, facing us to our left. They looked concerned. I looked at Max, and he took the lead.
“We just found out that my sister Georgette is a cocaine addict and that she has been helping Greg Weeks, a dealer, get others hooked. Also, that Weeks murdered my first wife Amanda when she found out that Georgette was involved. No attempt has been made on either Elizabeth or me, but we are concerned that it might happen. A friend in the DEA is on the case, and I think that he will be able to put Weeks away. However, we are concerned that a revenge attempt might be made. That is why we want Leonie out of the city for a while. We know that we can trust you to keep her safe.” I nodded.
“I'm sorry we didn't tell you before, but this really only came to a head this morning. If you have any suggestions, we would love to hear them. Georgette left this morning for a rehab center outside the city, and we're hoping that we won't be involved any more after this. However, we can't be sure.” My father sat forward, his elbows on his knees.
“It seems to me that you have it pretty well under control, Max. I am impressed.” I glanced at Max and we exchanged a smile.
“Thank you, sir. I intend to take care of Elizabeth, and of Georgette. However, I don't know how to protect my daughter other than to give her into your keeping. I know you will take care of her.” My father nodded.
“Of course we will.” I smiled.
“I knew you'd say that, Daddy. Thank you. Mom, thanks so much for taking such good care of her. Leonie was excited about staying with you; you guys have been up to your old tricks. Walking on the ceiling, Dad?” I asked, looking at him with a grin. “Muscoot and the carousel?” I said, looking towards my mother. “I remember that.” My parents both grinned.
“We love having grandchildren; they're so much less hassle than children. I saw a woman with a bumper sticker the other day,” my Mom said, “That said, `If I'd Known How Much Fun Grandchildren Were, I Would Have Had Them First.'” We all laughed.
We were able to talk of other things that night until it was time for Max and me to leave, around 10.30.
“Mom, Daddy, thanks for having us. Dinner was wonderful.”
“Sir, Ma'am, thank you. And thank you for taking care of Leonie.”
“Yes.” My parents smiled graciously, my mother hugging and kissing us both, my father kissing me and shaking hands with Max.
“It is our pleasure; both having you for dinner and taking care of Leonie.” With a last wave, we went down the steps.

As Max held the passenger door open for me to climb in, he said,
“Well, I think that went well.”
“Hmm,” I agreed as he climbed in. “I expected them to agree to taking care of Leonie, but it still went quite well.”
“And your pie was amazing, too.”
“Thank you kindly, sir,” I said, leaning over to kiss him. He had just started the car, but he took his hand off the stick and pulled me towards him, his other hand coming up to cup my head. His tongue nibbled along the seam of my lips, and I opened them obediently. He laced his fingers through my hair and his other hand slid from my back to just under my breast, and I immediately tensed, waiting for the touch that I knew would come—but it didn't. After swirling his tongue around my mouth, tasting me, he pulled back with flushed cheeks, his breathing hard.
“Not that I'm not anxious to continue this, but I haven't made out in a car in front of a girl's parents' house since high school. Let's go back to our house and make out.” I smiled, my own breathing uneven.
“That sounds good to me.” He put the car in gear and backed up out of the driveway and we were on our way home.


Chapter 33

The drive back to the city was very nearly silent. Max drove a little faster than usual, his movements slightly jerky as he shifted between gears. I found myself unable to keep my eyes away from his hands as he adeptly handled the wheel.
“Well, I was surprised at how well Leonie took the whole thing.” Max jerked, looking at me.
“Oh, yes. She did take it well. I think she just loves staying with your parents. She always did like them.” I laughed.
“Yes, and they certainly don't mind. My father has always been a sucker for kids; one of the best things about our church is that there are always many little kids. He has been a favorite for years and years.” Max smiled.
“I was also impressed by the way your parents took the news of Georgette and the whole affair. I expected some anger, indignation, etcetera, over what I have gotten you into. I did promise him that I would take excellent care of you, and it could hardly be said that I have taken anything like excellent care of you. I shouldn't be surprised to see your brother over my shoulder, all ready to kick my ass.” I turned to face him fully.
“Max, you can't really believe that.” He shrugged. “This is not your fault. You are not responsible for the bad decisions of your family. They must make their own choices and live their own lives. All you can do is to be there for them when they need you, and sometimes that is just to help them pick up the pieces when they mess up and things fall apart.” He looked at me.
“I know that you're right, but it's my instinct to take responsibility and to try and protect those I love. I've been looking after Georgette ever since she was little, and I can't give that up overnight.” I touched his hand.
“I know. You have done a good job. One of the things that I love most about you is that you accept your responsibilities. I know that you will take wonderful care of me and Leonie and our children.” Max smiled slowly.
“Wow; our children.” He paused for a moment. “And I will. I promise.” He took my hand and kissed it. I grinned.
“Mmm. I can't wait to start on them. I have a feeling I'll enjoy it very much.” He grinned back and replied,
“Count on it.” We were silent. After a few minutes, I reached over and turned on the radio, searching until I found a station that was playing sultry jazz. It reminded me of hot satin nights, the humid air laden with the scents of jasmine and magnolia. I sank back in my seat and closed my eyes as images washed over me.
I was sitting on a wooden porch swing, rocking back and forth gently as I looked out onto a darkened lawn towards a riverbank strewn with willow trees. There were fireflies winking on an off around me, and crickets were chirping in the grass. The air was hot and thick; it almost felt like a blanket. The house seemed to be some sort of farmhouse; there was a huge screened-in porch stretching along the front of the house, and there were periodic pillars, giving it an eclectic look. I sat with my eyes closed, leaning back against the swing and rocking, the chains making a slight squeaking sound with every movement.
The front door opened next to me, and I could hear footsteps echoing along as he came towards the swing. I smiled, but my eyes remained closed. He stood before me silently for several minutes as I swung back and forth lazily. Finally, I opened my eyes and looked at his face, shadowed in the dark. His hair was down and his shirt was unbuttoned to the middle of his chest, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He stood there like a living, breathing statue, watching me. My eyes opened wider as I took in his predatory stance, the determined yet sensual set of his mouth and the slowness of his breathing. As I stared at him, fascinated, I could feel my heart begin to beat faster. I let the swing come to a stop as the electricity between us intensified. He knelt gently before me and grasped my waist with resolute hands, pulling me to the edge of the swing so my eyes were on a level with his. Our gazes meshed, and he was still for a moment. Then he moved forward, his gaze still locked with mine, and nuzzled my nose with his, flexing his fingers at my waist. My legs moved restlessly and he moved forward, between them, so that my thighs clasped his. My bare foot was rubbing slowly back and forth over his calf as he knelt, and he moved forward more quickly, capturing my mouth. Our eyes closed and he gave a slight groan. My breath caught in my throat as his tongue stormed the gate of my mouth, and was given entrance without a struggle. No one could kiss like this man. I tightened my arms around him, trying to pull him closer. He didn't budge, but I succeeded in pulling myself to him so tightly that we could have been melded. His hips rolled slightly in the cradle of mine, and I moaned, clutching at him. He groaned again, louder this time, and his mouth became devouring, voracious. I kissed him back just as wildly, his hands now moving all over; from clenching my buttocks to stroking the sensitive nape of my neck, to smoothing over the sides of my breasts, all he could reach since we were so close. This time I was the one who rolled my hips, my ankles locked around his waist, and he stilled, pulling his mouth from mine and resting our foreheads together. His breathing was harsh and fast. He pulled away slightly and looked into my eyes again, then pressed a kiss to my forehead and stood, a little awkwardly as the front of his pants was tented out. He bent and picked me up, walking carefully back into the house and slamming the door behind us with his foot.
I felt so feminine and dainty, held close in his arms; he made me feel safe even while he himself was chasing me. I knew that he would never hurt me, and that he would place himself between me and any danger. I looked up at his shadowed face, so resolute in expression and intent. I smiled slightly as I glanced towards the top of the stairs, anticipating the juxtaposition of the cool sheets and his hot skin on my bare body. I shivered at the images. He reached the top of the stairs and nudged the door open, standing for a moment in the doorway. We both looked towards our huge bed in the center of the room, the sheets still rumpled from earlier in the day. Then he strode forward, his step eager. “Elizabeth…”
“Elizabeth!” I started and looked at Max. He was alternately watching me and the road.
“What is it?” I asked, confused. He looked at me again, and I could see that his eyes were burning.

“If you don't stop squirming in your seat and making those hot little noises, we're not going to make it home.” I stared at him, and he stared back, his meaning more than clear. I blushed.
“Sorry,” I mumbled. “I didn't know that I was.”
“I know; it looked like you were having one hell of a fantasy. Was I there?” I stared at him.
“What kind of a question is that?”
“A reasonable one, under the circumstances. You were having a good time, and I would like to be in on it.” I smiled, and took a deep breath in an attempt to calm myself. My skin felt too hot and tight, as though I were about to burst through it, and I had to forcibly restrain myself from squirming. My hands were trembling slightly, and I looked down in surprise. “Well, was I?” I looked up.
“Oh, sorry. Yes, of course you were. And it was a good fantasy.” I closed my eyes again, resting my head against the seat back. Max groaned.
“I want to hear about it.” I shifted uncomfortably.
“Nothing major happened. We were just kissing.” He glanced at me again.
“Is that all?” I shrugged.
“It was nighttime and we were on a screened porch of some kind of farmhouse, and it was facing a riverbank with willows. It was during summer, and the air was very humid and smelled like jasmine and magnolia. I was wearing a white sundress, no shoes and swinging on a porch swing.” He made a sound of appreciation. “Then you came out from the house and you stood and watched me for a while and then you knelt down and pulled me forward so that you knelt between my legs. We stared at each other for a while, and then you kissed me. And it was getting very involved.” He muttered something I didn't hear. “Then you picked me up, went inside and up the stairs to our bedroom; and we could see how the sheets were still rumpled from earlier in the day.” I paused, remembering with a shiver how I had felt. “And then you called me.” He shook his head and muttered again. “What was that?” He glanced at me.
“First of all, I wish it had happened really, and secondly I wish I had let you finish it.” I blushed again. He continued thoughtfully, “Actually, it sounds rather like Pemberlie--our plantation in Louisiana. It faces a river bank, and there are jasmine bushes and magnolia trees surrounding the house.” He placed a hand on my thigh and squeezed it gently. “I'll take you there this summer, and we can finish your fantasy together. I'll have a porch swing put in right away.” I smiled at him and leaned over to kiss his cheek. The hand on my thigh tightened and then was pulled away. “You just imagine what I'm going to do to you when we get home,” he advised in a rough voice. “I need to concentrate on my driving.” We were off the West Side highway by now, and he was beginning to navigate the complicated New York City streets. I stared out the window at the lights of the city, unable to do anything but what he had suggested. Now the concerns filled my head.

What if I wasn't any good at this? What if he was disappointed? What if it hurt? I felt woefully inadequate; my romance novels had unsurprisingly not prepared me for the reality of this relationship or for the issues that faced me-most glaringly, the issues of tonight. I twisted my hands in my lap, no longer inclined to wander into fantasy.

Chapter 34

As Max pulled into the underground garage beneath our building, he gave a sigh of relief that I heard clearly. I glanced at him uncertainly; he still looked tense and he seemed to have difficulty staying below the speed limit as he drove towards our section of the garage and parked the Mercedes. He got out quickly and was around at my side of the car before I had undone my seatbelt. He opened the door and took my hand, helping me out; then he locked the doors and hustled me towards the elevator. Max turned the special key that allows the elevator to go up to the penthouse, and I stood in nervous silence as we rose. Max took several calming deep breaths; I looked at him and had to smile in affection. He was so gorgeous, with his smooth black hair loose and trailing over his shoulders. I have always found men who can carry off long hair to be very sexy. I could see the diamond stud that glinted in his ear and the pulse beating at his throat. He was also partly aroused, and I was so distracted that I forgot my anxiety. I smiled at him and he stared back, seemingly transfixed by my expression. After a moment, his face softened and he smiled back tenderly. He moved closer to me and put his arms around my waist, pulling me into him and resting my head on his shoulder.
“I know that I haven't told you for almost“ He checked his watch, “four hours, but I love you, Elizabeth D'Arcy. And I am so glad that you chose me.” I smiled into his shirt and hugged him tightly.
“I love you too, Max. But as I recall, you were the one who did the choosing. And you didn't leave me with much of an option! It was very clear that you intended to get what you were after.” He chuckled, still holding me close.
“You may be right. But then, I knew I wanted you from the moment I met you.” I pulled away slightly to look up at him.
“You did? But you were married!” He shrugged.
“True. And that is why I never did anything about it.” He dropped a light kiss on the tip of my nose. “When Amanda was out of the picture, I decided to get to know you better; and that is when I started falling in love with you. How could I help it?” he asked with a laugh. I smiled again. As the elevator `pinged' our floor, we stepped out still entwined. Max took me into the kitchen and got a bottle of Cristal champagne from the refrigerator. “I've been saving this,” he explained, and gestured for me to get glasses. “I ordered a case when you agreed to marry me. I plan on celebrating regularly.” I grinned at him as I got down two champagne flutes and carried them to the counter as he extracted the cork.
“I've never had Cristal,” I remarked eagerly as he filled the glasses. He chuckled.

“Then you are in for a treat. You know, Elizabeth,” he continued, facing me and looking so luscious that I wanted to kiss him all over, “One of the things about you that I love is how little you expect. It makes me want to spoil you in every imaginable way. So you let me know if you like Cristal and if you do we'll make sure to have a regular supply.”
“Oh no, Max. That wouldn't work.” He laughed at my shocked face.
“Why not? It's not as though we can't afford it.” I shook my head emphatically.
“It needs to stay special, as a treat. Being able to afford it doesn't come into it; I don't want to be spoiled. I want to be able to enjoy rare things as rare things.” He laughed again and kissed me on the mouth, lingering to taste the champagne there.
“There, you see? That is one thing that I love about you. Very well, Cristal shall remain a treat.”

He led me to the living room and he sat on the couch, then tugged me down so that I was sitting across his lap. I leaned my head on his shoulder and sipped my champagne thoughtfully. It really was marvelous, and I wouldn't mind having it more often! Max leaned over and grabbed a book that was lying on a nearby table. I twisted, trying to see what it was.
“No, I want to read you something.” He kept the book behind my head as he flipped through the pages, his bicep flexing near my face. It was very tempting, and at last I gave in and nipped it slightly, then kissing the spot. He kissed the rim of my ear gently and began,

“Beautiful dreamer, wake unto me,
Starlight and dewdrops are waiting for thee;
Sounds of the rude world heard in the day,
Lull'd by the moonlight have all pass'd a way!

Beautiful dreamer, queen of my song,
List while I woo thee with soft melody;
Gone are the cares of life's busy throng,--
Beautiful dreamer, awake unto me!
Beautiful dreamer awake unto me!

Beautiful dreamer, out on the sea
Mermaids are chaunting the wild lorelie;
Over the streamlet vapors are borne,
Waiting to fade at the bright coming morn.

Beautiful dreamer, beam on my heart,
E'en as the morn on the streamlet and sea;
Then will all clouds of sorrow depart,--
Beautiful dreamer, awake unto me!
Beautiful dreamer, awake unto me!”


(Beautiful Dreamer Serenade by Stephen Foster)

I sat resting against Max, thinking about the beautiful poem.

“That is how I think of you,” he said after a minute. I turned so that I could see his face.

“Really? As someone to awaken?” He grinned.

“Well, I would have thought that that was obvious.” I blushed and he chuckled. “But more than that, as someone who has taken such pleasure in her dream world that to coax her to stay in the real world with me, I must be sure to make the real world more enticing, more enjoyable, more real, in that it must be the world that she prefers to be in.” He looked at me earnestly, clearly wanting me to understand. I smiled and kissed his neck.

“But of course I want to stay in the real world, Max. You're in the real world, and that is reason enough to stay. There are many unpleasant realities in the so-called `real world' but I want to be with you more than I want anything. I know that you will do all you can to keep those unpleasant realities from me, just as you have already.” I kissed his neck again, affectionately. “Just know that some unpleasant realities must be faced by all, and that you cannot protect me from those I must face.” He looked down at my face seriously and said,

“I know that, Elizabeth, but you cannot blame me for wanting to keep you safe from everything.” I laughed up at him.

“Of course not, and that is one of the things that I love about you.” Finally, he grinned back at me.

I reached up and brought his face down to mine, kissing him lightly, then more firmly. He took the lead, licking at the seam of my lips and gaining entrance. He swept his tongue around my mouth, tasting me. My tongue answered, searching for the taste of him beneath the champagne. I slid one hand down his chest, feeling the hardness of his muscles and the springiness of chest hair beneath his shirt. My fingers found the buttons and began to undo them, fumbling slightly. I felt Max smile gently against my lips and he reached behind me to undo the zipper of my dress and unhook my bra, peeling them down so that they fell off my shoulders and pooled at my elbows. I had gotten his shirt undone and had speared my fingers through the wedge of hair that covered his pecs and arrowed down to nest around his groin. He pulled away from my mouth to remove my hands from his chest and slide the dress and the bra off so that it rested only around my waist. Although he had already seen my breasts, he stared at them as though they were one of a kind, something one only gets to see once in a lifetime if one is lucky. He reached one hand out and touched one gently, as though it were Ming porcelain. I smiled at his air of reverence. My nipples had peaked both from the cool air and from the kissing; he cupped one breast and smoothed his thumb over the nipple, sending a dart of pleasure through me. I shivered and clenched my fingers again in his chest hair. He winced and I moved my hands, rubbing my palms over the taut, hot skin of his back and shoulders.

“One of the sexiest things about you, Max,” I said almost breathlessly as he bent his head to touch one nipple with his tongue, “Is how strong you are. Your back and shoulders are amazing. I love touching you.” He didn't answer, focused on my breasts as he moved back to examine his handiwork. My nipple was red and moist, and those darts of pleasure had been coming stronger and faster. He moved his hands back to my breasts, brushing his fingers over them.

“Elizabeth, you have the most amazing skin. It's so smooth and soft, and I can see almost every vein. Look how dark my hands are next to you.” I looked down, and the sight of his hands tenderly touching me sent another wave of heat, straight between my thighs. “You are so beautiful,” he crooned, kissing my shoulder. He brushed back my hair from my neck and nibbled along until his lips met the sensitive cord running from head to shoulder. When he did, he set his teeth into it gently, making me shudder convulsively and moan. Returning to his chest, my fingertips searched out his nipples, which were hard diamond points.

“I have been dreaming of this for so long,” he groaned as I leaned into him so that my breasts were nestled in the crisp hair on his chest. I gasped at the contact, the roughness of the hair abrading my nipples, already sensitive from his ministrations. He lifted my head and stared into my eyes as he bent his head to touch our mouths. It was the most erotic thing; I could see every expression in his eyes. He pulled back slightly. “I love you so much, and I am not quite sure how to go about doing this.” I stared at him, uncomprehending.

“What do you mean? You have done this before.” He shrugged.

“Yes, but never with a virgin, and never with anyone I loved the way I love you. I have to make this perfect for you.” He seemed to have his own anxieties, which straight away eased any remaining ones that I might have had. I smiled gently at him.

“It will be perfect, because it is with you. You are the man that I have waited all my life for; I know that, and you know that. Everything does not ride on this moment.” He smiled sheepishly and nodded his agreement. I pulled him back to me, and I kissed him and kissed him until we were both breathing hard and locked together so tightly that the buckle of his belt was digging into me. I was still sitting on his lap and I could feel his erection against my thigh. I slid off his lap, pulled him up beside me, and began to go to work on his belt. It took me longer than it would have because he kept distracting me, first sliding my dress off my hips and onto the floor, then my panties. He lifted me out of both, and then was running his hands from my back to my thighs and kissing my neck and my shoulder. Finally I got his pants undone, leaving his underwear on when he stayed my hand. He sat down on the couch again and when he would have put me back across his lap I forestalled him and sat so that I was facing him, straddling his lap. He looked down at me, and I heard him gulp.

“You are so beautiful,” he said again, in such a fervent tone that I could not doubt his sincerity. He was caressing my thighs, clenching my knees and then slowly moving up until he was tickling the soft skin of my inner thigh. When he reached my core and began stroking me, I was unable to stop the soft cry that escaped my throat. As he gently pressed one finger into me, I bit his shoulder. He jumped, but didn't stop his ministrations. “Does that hurt?” he asked in concern. I shook my head, and he pressed another finger into me. I winced slightly, for I could feel the inner tissue stretching to accommodate him. He smiled. “Good girl. I know it's not comfortable, but I need to do it. It will be easier.” I stared at him, impressed by his self-mastery. He looked down at me again and groaned. I looked down, too, and saw his fingers were wet and slick as they slid into me. It was an odd feeling; I felt full and stretched, yet empty. I looked back up at him to see his eyes on me. He slid a third finger into me, and then I really winced. It was very uncomfortable, almost to the point of pain. He whispered things to me, soothing me. After a moment, it was no longer uncomfortable. I kissed him again, searching for his tongue with mine. I pressed closer to him and moved a hand down to where his erection was stretching out those boxer-briefs that I love so much. He shifted slightly, and I reached around to tug at the waistline. He caught at one hand with his and shook his head.

“No, I'll never last. Keep them on.” I smiled at this new proof of his susceptibility to me, but I complied. He stood up with me in his arms, my legs clasped around his waist so that his arousal was pressed against me. My arms were around his neck and my head rested on his shoulder. He carried me carefully, but swiftly, into our bedroom and placed me on the bed. He stepped back, turning the light on. He paused for a minute, drinking in the sight. I was sprawled on my back, waiting for him. I knew there was a sultry expression on my face; for my eyes felt heavy-lidded and I knew my lips were swollen from our kisses. I was watching him carefully, and when I smiled and held out my hand to him, I saw his Adam's apple bob and the pulse at the base of his neck increase. I smiled wider and he came to me slowly.

Chapter 35

I sat up as he approached the bed and reached again for the waistband of his boxer-briefs. This time, he let me, and I peeled them down to settle around his ankles on the floor. He stepped out of them and walked close to me, bending to move the sheets and blankets off the bed. Then he grasped me by the waist and moved me so that I was lying on my back again against the cool white sheets. He hesitated, just looking at me, and I grabbed his hand and tugged. He chuckled at my impatience, but joined me on the bed. He turned me on my side so that I was facing away from him. I would have changed position, but he gripped my hip with his hand to keep me where I was. He was propped up on one elbow behind me, and I could feel his warm breath coming quickly against the sensitive skin of my nape. Then I felt his lips there, brushing gently back and forth. I shivered convulsively; it was a very erotic touch, but I wanted more. I twisted slightly so that my back was against his chest and I nestled my bottom into his erection. He quickly stilled me and moved me back to where I was. I moaned in protest, and he chuckled again. It was a strained sound this time, and I was pleased to realize that he was having a hard time holding onto his self-control.

No wonder heroines in romance novels always act so silly in the sex scenes! I thought. I know just how they feel. My skin feels too tight and I'm shivering, I can't keep still; my body keeps rubbing against the sheets, and I have to bite my lips to keep from moaning aloud. Max was now running one finger down my spine.

“Did you know that you have two adorable dimples in the small of your back?” he asked, leaning down to drop kisses in them. He turned me over so that I was on my stomach and kissed his way back up my spine to the nape of my neck again. I had no idea I was so sensitive there! He lingered there for a moment and then he slid one hand down my shoulder and my arm to my waist and over to my belly where he stroked me lightly, his fingertips almost tickling. I giggled, and he dropped a kiss on the side of my neck. He went back to nibbling along my spine, this time going past my dimples to nibble my buttocks, and then down to the backs of my thighs and my knees. He sat up at my feet and said, “Do you remember what I told you about your stilettos?” I nodded. He grasped my ankles and spread my legs more, then lifted one of my feet and pressed the instep with his thumb. A jolt of heat spread through me, and I gasped. He groaned. “I can see every inch of you from here. Do you know what you look like?” I shook my head. “Soft and pink and innocent, and all mine.” The raw possessiveness in his voice startled me slightly. “I still can't believe that you are really here,” he said as he lay back down beside me and turned me to face him. He looked into my eyes and filled his hands with the weight of my breasts. “I love you so much.” He kissed me gently and moved one hand down between my thighs where he stroked me gently, finding the nub that throbbed in anticipation. His mouth moved down to my nipple, which he touched gently with his tongue, then sucked into his mouth. The dual assault left me breathless and helpless before him. My body felt less and less under my control as it writhed and heaved, and a feeling of tension winding tighter and tighter in my lower belly left me confused. He slid two fingers into me and I tensed slightly.

“Shh, shh.” He soothed. I relaxed, and he began to work his fingers, all the while rubbing the nub with his thumb. The tension wound tighter and tighter until I was nearly incoherent, clutching at him and making little cries that seemed to echo in my head. My eyes were fixed on his face, on his dilated pupils and the strain I could see.

“Please, Max! Please!” I begged, and at last, he withdrew his fingers and kissed me, thrusting his tongue into my mouth rhythmically. It wasn't a rhythm that I knew, but I recognized it all the same. He rose above me, kneeling between my legs and pulling them apart so that I was fully open to him. He lowered himself so that he was lying on top of me. The weight of him felt wonderful; I felt crushed, yet totally protected. I could feel the smooth heat of his erection against my stomach. His eyes had a predatory gleam, but the tender curve of his mouth reassured me. He let me get used to his weight and said,

“Raise your knees.” I did so, realizing that the position left me even more open to him than before. He moved back on his knees and used one hand to guide himself to me. I tensed again as I felt the pressure, and he stilled until I had relaxed. The man's control was unbelievable! He began to press into me gently, and I twisted my hips slightly to get a better angle. He groaned and seemed to forget himself, for with one stroke he drove himself in to the hilt. We both gasped: I with shock and discomfort, Max with pleasure. He gripped the sheet next to my head with both hands, staring down at me with an anguished expression. “God, you feel amazing, Elizabeth. You're even more beautiful than I could have imagined.” He bent his head to kiss me deeply, not moving to give me time to adjust. I needed it! This was not at all what I had expected. I felt full, invaded, and stretched. However, as the seconds ticked by, I began to relax and my body softened, accepting him. I realized that I could feel every inch of him, and my lower body clenched instinctively, holding him. Max groaned. “I can feel all your little muscles clutching at me. Elizabeth, I'm going to die if I can't move.” I looked up at him with a smile and lifted my legs to clasp my ankles around his waist.

“Then,” I said with a grin, “move.” He did. Oh, did he ever. He began rocking into me slowly, and I could feel the coil of tension that had relaxed slightly to begin coiling again. He had braced himself on his forearms and was looking into my eyes the whole time. As he increased his pace, I closed my eyes against the intense feelings.

“Look at me,” he said so fiercely that my eyes popped open in surprise. “Look at me when I'm making love to you.” I obeyed, keeping my eyes open and glued to his. He was right; it was amazing, being able to see everything in his eyes. I had never felt to close to another human in my entire life. I could see everything in his eyes. My arms were clasped around him to hold him to me, and my nails dug into his shoulders. They left marks. His hips recoiled and then plunged, faster and faster. The tension in my lower belly was building and building. I was moving in a rhythm different from his yet somehow corresponding perfectly. With one hand, he reached down and touched me where we were joined, and I shattered. I think I screamed, but I know that I felt as though I had just been launched into space and was flying past the stars, with Max's hand in mine.

When I came out of my stupor, I found my husband lying limply on me, his head dropped to the pillows beside my head. My arms were still clutched around him, and I could still feel him inside me. I shifted hesitantly, taking stock of how I felt. I felt exhausted, drained, and yet totally uplifted. My body was sore from the unaccustomed demands on it, but if my husband was up for it, I was ready to go for another round. I smiled slightly as I realized that I wanted to be a sex fiend. If this was sex, handcuff me to the bed! Max raised his head enough to look into my face, and he looked as drained as I did. But there was a light in his eyes that I didn't recognize. He smiled down at me with lazy satisfaction, and I realized that the gleam in his eyes was one of triumph.

“Now you are truly my wife,” he said in a rumbly voice, and rubbed his head against my shoulder as if he were a big cat wanting to be stroked. I obliged.

“Mmhmm, and you are truly my husband,” I responded. My own voice was husky.

“You screamed,” he remarked, raising his head again and sounding absurdly pleased with himself.

“Did I?”

“Mmhmm. I loved it.” I grinned at him.

“That makes two of us.” He chuckled and moved off me slowly, taking me with him. He ended up on his back with me nestled into his side, my head on his chest. He put both arms around me, and I felt him drop a kiss in my hair. “I love you, Max,” I said softly, my eyes closing.

“I love you, Elizabeth,” was the last thing I heard. I was asleep.

Chapter 36


I could feel the light against my closed eyelids, and I moved away from it instinctively, curling into the hard, warm body next to me and burying my face in it. With my ear to his chest, the rumble of his chuckle was louder than usual. I opened my eyes slowly, looking up at him.

“Good morning, sleepyhead,” he said affectionately, dropping a kiss on my nose. I smiled drowsily and stretched, becoming aware of all the strange aches I had. The muscles all down the inside of my legs were tender, as if I had strained them during the unaccustomed exercise. I was also a little sore between my legs; Max hadn't made it easy on me-not that I minded. The unusual aches only called my mind back to the night before. I was all too eager to repeat the experience. My stretching had the effect of pushing my body closer to his, and my eyes popped open again when I felt his arousal poking me in the stomach. I looked up at him with a smile. He was propped on one elbow, facing me. He had been watching me while I slept. He leaned his head down to kiss me; a kiss intended to be light. When he would have raised his head I followed it with mine and raised one hand to clench in his hair, effectively trapping him. I licked at his lower lip, causing him to moan and open his mouth to me. I flicked my tongue against his, advancing then retreating, inviting him into my mouth. He accepted the invitation and was soon plundering my mouth as though it was the sweetest honey and he a starving man. After a moment he pulled back, breathing heavily and said huskily,

“Mmm, I love kissing you. It is definitely up there with the most erotic thing ever.”

“And what is the most erotic thing ever,” I asked curiously. He chuckled.

“What do you think?” I blushed and he laughed again. “Making love to you, of course,” he said, as though it ought to be obvious. “That is definitely not only the most erotic thing ever; it is beyond a doubt my favorite thing to do. I knew that you were addictive, but I didn't quite realize the full extent of your potency until I had tasted it all myself. I don't think I could give you up.” I smiled at him again and bumped my hips against his.

“I'm so glad to hear it. What do you think of another try?” His eyes darkened and his mouth curved sensuously. Oh! It makes me shiver when he looks at me like that. He felt the shiver and his mouth curved even more.

“Are you sure that you're up for it? It was your first time last night, and the last thing I want is to hurt you.” I snaked my arms around him, one around his waist to pull him closer and one around his neck so I could kiss him. I pulled my mouth away after a minute to get my breath and replied,

“Max, how would you feel about being married to a sex fiend?” He laughed.

“I think I would love it. Is she a fiend only for me?” I frowned at him.

“Of course. That's not funny. But I think I would enjoy being a sex fiend and I think you would enjoy it, too.”

“I know I would,” he said softly, his breath coming quickly. “You're sure?” I grinned.

“Oh yeah.” With that, he turned so that he was half on top of me and kissed me, pushing his tongue into my mouth with a rhythm that I could now recognize as imitating intercourse. This knowledge and the anticipation it created made me so wet that I realized I was making a spot on the sheet. Max's wicked fingers went to my breast and he pinched my nipple, making me arch into him. I'm so easy for him; he knows exactly what to do to make me so hot for him. He was rolling my nipple around between his finger and thumb as he kissed me, and I raised my hands to run them over his chest, seeking out his flat nipples to play with them the way he was with mine. I scraped my fingernails gently from his shoulders down to his stomach, loving the way his muscles rippled and jumped beneath my ministrations. I found his nipples and brushed them gently, and he groaned. His hand left my breast and went down my stomach to the pink folds between my legs, which he stroked until they opened for him and he found my clitoris, already swollen and anxious. He groaned again when he felt how wet I was and released my mouth long enough to say,

“God, Elizabeth-I can't wait.” He moved completely over me, his shoulders blocking out the light, his gorgeous hair falling around us. This time he didn't hold himself up on his elbows; he allowed me to accept his full weight, crushing me into the bed. I loved it, and I clasped him to me tightly, reveling in the feel of him. Then I felt his penis probing at my entrance, and with one smooth thrust, he was inside. I gasped at the still unfamiliar feeling, and he paused for a second to look at my face and make sure I was all right. I tightened my thighs around his legs, and he began to move, slowly. It was too slow; I felt that I was going out of my mind. He was whispering to me, telling me how good I felt, how tight, how wet, how much he loved me. I was beautiful, he said, and he wanted me all the time. I could feel the pleasure building in me, but there was never quite enough. Impatient, I pushed at his shoulders, and he rolled over onto his back, never leaving my body. I sat up in surprise, and this pushed him even deeper into me than before. I was sitting astride him, my knees on either side of his hips. He clasped my hips tightly, and I placed my hands on his shoulders, leaning over him. I moved my hips in a circular motion, stroking him with my inner muscles. He moaned with a catch in his throat at the feeling, and I nearly moaned myself. It was beautiful to watch him like this; I could never get tired of it. After a few minutes of circular movement, his clasp on my hips grew tighter, and he lifted me slightly, and then slammed me back down on him. I ground my hips down against his and screamed as the pleasure slammed through me. Remembering what he had said last night, I kept my eyes fixed on his and I saw his pupils dilate until they totally covered his irises as his hips hammered up into mine. I felt his penis jerk as he emptied himself into me. I slumped on his chest, completely exhausted. He stroked my back gently for a few minutes, and then lifted me from him and into his arms as he stood and walked to the bathroom and turned on the shower.

“Are you all right?” he asked softly as he pulled me into the glass-walled chamber. I smiled at him.

“Mhmm. I've never been better.” He smiled and hugged me to him, then sat me down on the shower bench and began to lather my hair. It felt amazing-usually when someone plays with my hair I get drowsy, but when Max did it I just got aroused. He put conditioner in, and while waiting he got a washcloth and rubbed soap onto it, easing it over my skin. He spent some time washing between my legs, tenderly removing all traces of his semen and the few blood specks from my virginity. I looked down as I felt his fingertips brush over my hips, and he growled. There were faint purple marks, where he had gripped me too hard.

“I'm sorry, baby. I didn't mean to hurt you.” I smiled up at him.

“I didn't even notice. They don't hurt.” I stood and rinsed my hair, then gestured for him to sit. It was my turn.

I washed his hair carefully, then lathered his face and shaved his beard. While I stood in front of him with the water hitting my back, he was staring at my breasts. I thought I knew why until he said,

“I'll need to shave twice a day. There is whisker burn all over your body.” I looked down and saw that he was right. Again, I hadn't noticed while it was happening. I finished shaving him and then I lathered his body with soap, cleaning every inch of him. He had another erection by the time we were done, but this time I really was too sore, and he didn't even ask. He lifted me out of the shower and dried me, then himself, and we put on our robes to find food. I was starving, and from the amount that he consumed I think he was, too. We were just finishing our coffee when the downstairs buzzer sounded. Max stood and pressed the intercom switch and we heard George, the doorman, tell us that Charlie and LJ were downstairs. Max told him to let them up. I sighed.

“Well, I guess it was too much to hope for that we could have one day without dealing with our problems. Oh well.” I stood and kissed him, then set to work putting away the dishes. Max and I rushed to get dressed, and as I dragged the brush through my hair at the vanity, he bent over behind me to kiss my neck. I looked at him in the mirror to see him meeting my gaze.

“Tonight,” he said in a low voice, “I want you to wear the emeralds I gave you.” I stared at him, feeling my stomach tighten at his tone. “You will wear the emeralds,” he continued, “and nothing else.” He bit my shoulder gently then kissed the spot, and left to greet Charlie and LJ.

I sat at the vanity for a minute or so longer while I caught my breath. My husband was without doubt the sexiest man ever, and I was thoroughly enjoying catching up with him.

Chapter 37

When I walked into the living room Max was standing with our guests, shaking hands with Charlie. LJ saw me and came to greet me with a bright smile. I hugged her, kissed Charlie and invited them to the kitchen for coffee. The men sat at the table and LJ and I made more coffee. She leaned close and whispered,

“You must have had quite a night!” Startled, I looked back at her.

“What?” She smiled knowingly.

“You look exhausted, your mouth is swollen, and there is whisker burn on your neck.” My hand flew to my mouth, and I could tell she was right. I blushed.

“Well, if you must know, yes. It was quite a night. And I enjoyed myself very much.” I glanced over at Max and smiled. His eyes brightened with interest as he smiled back. LJ followed my gaze and said,

“It looks like you weren't the only one. Max has a hickey, and he's looking at you with more possessiveness than ever.” I smiled sweetly.

“Mhmm. I love it.” She laughed.

“I guess so! Not that I would mind having a man like Max look at me possessively.” She shot a meaningful glance at Charlie.

“Oh, right. How is that going, by the way?” She shrugged.

“Well, he still thinks that he is too old for me, but I think I'm overcoming his concerns. I'm working on proving to him that I'm more mature than I look, which is hard, considering my previous behavior. As far as I'm concerned, I think he likes rescuing me. Charlie is the sort of man who wants someone to look after, someone to coddle and protect. And I am more than willing to be that someone!” She grinned at him as we carried over the coffee tray and sat at the table. The men looked at us enquiringly as we chuckled.

“Share the joke?” Charlie asked. I shook my head.

“It would take too long to explain. Now,” I continued, leaning forward with my coffee cup clasped between my hands, “What has happened to make you descend on us like a pack of locusts at 9.30 in the morning?” I raised one eyebrow at LJ. “I know you have class, young lady.” She giggled.

“Well, Charlie and I agreed that, considering the circumstances, one day of missed classes was acceptable.” Max and I waited patiently. The two lovebirds (excuse me-the two unmarried lovebirds) finished grinning and holding hands to turn back to us.

“Look at this,” Charlie said, slapping down a copy of the day's New York Times. Max and I put our heads together, examining the front page. It was on the bottom half of the front page with a large headline. It read,

KNOWN HIGH-SOCIETY DRUG DEALER KILLED. We stared at each other for a moment, knowing what it was about, and hurriedly read on.

Greg Weeks, who has been implicated in several high-society drug-busts in past years, was shot in the chest six times early this morning. The preliminary Doctor's report states that the time of death was between 2.30am and 3.30 am. He died on the spot. At his side, police found Mrs. Aria Mitchell, wife of the well-known CEO of Mitchell's department store, holding the weapon and hysterical. Tests showed that she had consumed a large quantity of cocaine recently, which police believe the victim had just sold to her. At present, the motive is unknown. Several million dollars worth of cocaine was recovered from the trunk of the victim's car. The police expect to make a statement by late this morning.

We sat back in our chairs and stared at each other stunned. Thank God! It was over. After all the angst, the worry, the fear, it was over. Georgette wouldn't have to testify, our family would not be in danger. It was over. No matter how many times I told myself that, it just didn't get through my head.

The whole thing seemed very anticlimactic; I mean all the build-up and then the guy gets popped off by a freaked out customer. Now there's poetic justice for you. I chuckled involuntarily and clapped a hand over my mouth, but I couldn't stop. Soon I was laughing aloud. Max looked at me for a moment, but I could see his mouth twitching. Then he was laughing, too. Almost crying, we bent over in our chairs. Charlie and LJ looked at us indulgently. When the storm of mirth had passed, we wiped our eyes and looked back at them.

“Well,” LJ said calmly, “That wasn't quite how we expected you to take it, but ok.” I giggled again and looked at Max, who smiled at me, sharing the humor in the situation. I leaned back in my chair and stretched. When I went to take another sip of coffee, I looked at my cup and paused.

“Max, I know I said I wanted it to be a treat, but let's break out a bottle of that champagne. If this isn't a celebratory occasion, I don't know what is.” Max agreed with me and grabbed another chilled bottle of Cristal. Charlie and LJ looked on with interest; they had never had it either. When a champagne flute was handed to her, LJ took a sip and moaned.

“Oh, this is good.”

I laughed. “Cheers, everyone!” Laughing, we clinked the flutes together and drank.

Chapter 38

Once Charlie and LJ had left, I called my parents and told them the good news. There was now no reason that our family should be targeted, and Leonie was safe. She was happy, of course, but volunteered to keep Leonie until the weekend, which was three days away. I agreed with alacrity; I've been wanting to try out the island in the kitchen. It looks like a viable exchange for our bed. Max had gone to the office to wind up some last minute threads, but he wanted to take me out for dinner tonight. Then I would wear my emeralds.

I made lunch for myself (I had given Mrs. R. the last few days off) and spent an hour or so working on my articles. It seemed that they were going to be fun to write-I thought out topics and jotted down notes to remind myself to include certain details. My wedding had been a blast, but I wouldn't want to go through that again!

For some reason, I felt somewhat down in the dumps. I thought about it, and I realized that I had enjoyed the feeling of tension, of never knowing exactly what was going to happen. I knew that it was definitely all for the best; I wouldn't want to live like that indefinitely, but it had brought Max and me closer together. I smiled wickedly as I thought about the night before, and got up to stretch my tight hamstrings. As I went through my stretch routine, I realized that I still hadn't called Helene. Poor woman, I hadn't told her about anything! Once my routine was done, I picked up the phone and placed a call through to her private line at the embassy.

“Hello?” She answered. “Elizabeth, is that you? Caller ID says D'Arcy.” I smiled.

“Yes, Helene, it's me. How are you?”

“Never better, dear. I just read the paper. Did you see it?”

“Yes, I saw it this morning. I realized that I have not kept you up-to-date at all, and I want to remedy that.” She laughed.

“Oh, good. I know you have the inside track!” I laughed back.

“Well, one of the inside tracks, anyway.” I told her the whole story, leaving out certain personal details. Nevertheless, she sensed that something was missing.

“Has Max told you that he loves you yet?” She asked shrewdly. I giggled like a little girl.

“Mhmm. And proven it several times.” I could hear the smile in her voice as she replied,

“Yum. And did you enjoy yourself?

“Very much. LJ was just asking me the same question. You remember LJ?”

“Yes, of course. Lovely young woman; are you bringing her to another party soon? The next one was to be at the Mitchell's, but I have a feeling that it will be canceled. So that leaves the party at the Babcock's, on Friday.” Today was Wednesday.

“That depends. She is my babysitter, after all. Leonie is with my parents now, but they are only keeping her until the weekend. So if the weekend means until Friday night, then no, I will not be bringing LJ. Otherwise, I will certainly invite her.”

After a few more minutes of chatting and making a date for lunch the next Monday, we hung up.

I went back into the bedroom and stared at the bed; the air was still laden with the musky scent of sex. I breathed it in deeply for a moment with my eyes closed, and then collected myself. I set to work stripping the bed, bundling the sheets and pillowcases into the laundry room. While they were washing, I remade the bed with a set of sheets that were a wedding present; they were gorgeous Egyptian cotton 500 count mint green sheets with matching pillowcases and gold embroidered pillow shams. It was by far my favorite set; I love gold and green together. When I was finished, I looked around. Something still wasn't quite right. I flung back the drapes of the huge windows and opened them up. I looked out with a grin as the sounds of New York City rushed in on me. I jumped up, knowing what I wanted to do for the day. Everything that I needed to do was done, so I pulled on some comfortable jeans, an old button-down pale pink shirt and my favorite flat boots. I called Max's cell phone and asked him where how fancy dinner was going to be. He said that he wasn't thinking about anything major--semi-formal, probably, and that he would make reservations for eight.

“Great,” I replied. “I'm going to wander around the West Side for a while; do some window shopping, watch people. I'll be back by six.”

“That sounds like fun,” he agreed. “I'll see you when I get home.”

“OK. I love you, have a good rest of the day.” He laughed.

“Thanks. I love you too. Don't forget,” he said, in a lower voice, “about the emeralds.” I grinned, and said almost as softly,

“I'm looking forward to it.” He made a strangled sound.

“Just you wait until I get home,” he said huskily, and hung up. I laughed aloud. I love making him hot and bothered! Maybe I shouldn't count on us being on time for dinner. I made a mental note not to wear anything that wrinkled easily. Grabbing my jacket, I skipped outside.

One of my favorite things about living in New York City is the people. There are so many of them, and they are so different. I love just walking around and watching them go about their lives. Other people have always fascinated me, and since I was a girl, my father has teased me about how quickly I make friends. This isn't always true, but I do seem to get into frequent conversations with people that I have never seen before. In some way, people gravitate to me. I certainly don't mind. I just walked around for several hours, wandering in and out of shops but never buying anything in any of them--except for in one. I took the subway to Union Square and paid a visit to the Strand. The Strand is by far the coolest bookstore I have ever seen, and I have seen quite a few. It is always full, and they sell thousands and thousands of books, both new and used. I strolled up and down the aisles, just drinking in the smells of paper, ink, and that indefinable something that books have that just call to you. (I was nearly an English major because of my love of books.) I thought it was a good sign that the romance section didn't really tempt me-I certainly didn't need any more romance than I was already getting! While some of the sex scenes are really hot, I was much more interested in creating my very own personal sex scenes. As I had a man even better than romance novel heroes, I didn't feel in need of any extra stimulation. I smiled widely as, for probably the hundredth time, I thought about the night before and that morning. I was standing in the middle of the aisle, staring into space, when I suddenly realized what I wanted. I moved to the foreign language section and got several novels in French and Italian, and then, on a whim, I picked up several books, including a dictionary, on learning Russian. I had always wanted to, and now was as good a time as any.

On my way back home, I walked more quickly, enjoying how the late October air tousled my hair and make my eyes sting. Fall is my favorite season. Plans began to run through my head. Now that the whole Weeks-Georgette thing was more or less resolved, we could do other things. I decided that when we went to pick up Leonie, we would make a detour with her and go to Sunnyside Manor, the home of Washington Irving, which was part of the Historical Hudson Valley programs. I had a sneaking suspicion that Leonie would love the people going about daily life in the 1800's, complete with costume. I certainly always had. We should also go look at the leaves. Oh, and pick apples! I had to take a firm hold on myself; my plans were running away with me! I wanted to skip like a child as I neared the apartment building. I greeted George, the doorman, and rode the elevator to the penthouse.

When I got there, it was almost six, and Max wasn't home yet. I shrugged and stepped into the shower. I soaped up well, exfoliated vigorously, and put a hot-oil treatment into my hair as I shaved my legs and under my arms. I checked my bikini-area, but the wax was holding up well. Feeling fresh and clean, I stepped out and reached to grab a towel. However, as soon as I exited the glass chamber my husband wrapped a towel around me, using my surprise to kiss me very nearly senseless. After a minute, he pulled away and rubbed my body down with the towel, finally squeezing the excess water from my hair and wrapping the towel around it. I went on tiptoe to kiss him again, but he grasped my arms to keep me still.

“Oh no you don't. If you do, we'll never get out of here. Oh, and wear the emeralds under your top,” he instructed as he stripped and stepped into the shower. I stayed for a minute, just staring at his delicious body. He was aroused, and I knew that I could push the issue by stepping into the shower with him. I was highly anticipating the seduction that I knew he was planning, so I resisted.

I walked into my closet and pulled down a soft black velvet skirt that came to just below the knee and a gold long-sleeved top of raw silk with a high collar that opened in the front to just above my breasts. It was the perfect foil for the emeralds; they weren't on display, but it would please Max. I was a little concerned that they were too much for semi-formal, but I soon saw that I was wrong. It is impossible to dress-down emeralds, but they didn't look gaudy and they added a touch of elegance to the outfit. When Max stepped out of the shower, I was applying makeup. I had left my hair down and curled the ends so that they flipped up, and it added a casual element that I liked. He came over and kissed the side of my neck, still only in his towel. I looked up at him affectionately, and he touched the necklace where it lay in the hollow of my throat with one finger. It was very gentle, but as that finger left the stones to trace my skin, I shivered. This seduction was not going to be difficult for him; in fact, he didn't even have to take me out to dinner! I smiled as I thought how disappointed women in general would be with me; I was ready to put out with the minimum amount of effort on his part. Then again, any woman would if she was the one that Max wanted. The fact that he only wanted me made me feel warm and fuzzy. Max had walked over to put on a charcoal suit. He had chosen a dark green tie with very small gold embroidered lions on it, to match me. Knowing how much he liked them, I put on black satin stiletto pumps that laced up my ankle. I loved the way the outfit looked; sexy yet elegant. When he was ready, he gave me his arm and we walked out calmly, our exteriors belying the boiling desire that was running through us like molten gold.

Chapter 39

I hadn't eaten that afternoon while I was wandering around, and I hadn't eaten much of the lunch I had made. Besides the hot chocolate that I bought from a little coffee shop, I hadn't eaten since before noon. Once I looked at the menu, I discovered that I was absolutely starving. I was not sorry; the restaurant that Max had taken me to was modest, but had a fabulous reputation for its food. It was a reputation that I happened to know from experience was well earned. As I examined the menu closely, Max leaned forward and asked,

“You know, your life does not actually depend on what you choose for dinner.” I looked up in surprise to see his eyes twinkling at me merrily. I smiled at him and said

“I know, I know. I'm just really hungry, and I want to make the right choice.” He looked back at his menu.

“I know what you mean; I always have this problem when I come in here. Ah,” he said, as the waitress approached us. “I think our time has run out.” Just in time, I had made my decision.

“I would like the pesto chicken fettuccini, a side salad with ranch dressing on the side and the caramel pecan pie.” The waitress smiled at me.

“The pesto and pie are some of my favorites, too. The chef never has a bad night!” I smiled in agreement and asked,

“Does he still make that Alaska salmon with the cucumbers? I had that several times a few years ago and I still remember it!”

“Unfortunately, the fishing company that we got the salmon from went out of business,” the waitress explained, “And the chef has not been able to find another one up to his standards as of yet.” I shook my head at the pity of it.

“What a shame. Fortunately, I can always find something on the menu that I would love to try!” The waitress laughed.

“Yes, that is the main difficulty with working here-it is all too easy to gain weight!” I laughed too. Max had been watching our little conversation with a small smile on his mouth, patiently waiting. I smiled guiltily and said,

“Oh, I'm sorry, Max. You probably want to order, too, don't you?

“No hurry. Go ahead.” I shook my head.

“No, that's fine. What are you having?” He turned to the waitress.

“I would like the Portobello mushroom steak with a side salad, no dressing, and the apple fritters with whipped cream.” The waitress nodded.


“Would either of you like a drink?” Max looked at me. I shrugged.

“I'll have beer.” He nodded.

“Any specific kind?” I thought.

“Something dark.” He nodded again and turned back to the waitress.

“Do you have Bass?” The waitress checked her list and said that they did, on tap and bottled. “We'll have two from the tap then, please.” She hurried off. Max looked back at me, and laughed.

“What?” I asked, puzzled.

“You just can't help it, can you?”

“Help what? Max, what are you talking about?” He shook his head in amusement and explained.

“You make friends everywhere. All you have to do is smile at someone and they bend over backwards.” I stared at him in surprise.

“Don't be ridiculous. I just like talking to people.” He laughed again.

“It's hard to believe that all of that sweetness is mine. Yet you never notice! Don't you notice how easily you fall into conversations with people?” I shrugged.

“I don't know; I just like people. I guess I do talk to an awful lot of strangers. Come to think of it,” I continued thoughtfully, “My friends in college used to make fun of me for making friends with everyone. I just never took them seriously.” I shrugged again and looked back at Max. “So, what did you do today?” He smiled, but allowed me to change the subject.

“Nothing serious; I checked up on my managers and went through the system again. Everything was working smoothly, and the system for catching errors is working perfectly, too. Once everyone gets used to their new jobs, the place should pretty well be running itself. I'll only have to handle the big stuff. My Vice-Presidents are structured to handle the interdepartmental stuff, and everything is so well delegated that I'm not even sure what my job is anymore!” He gave me a grin. “And I think I like it. I've been planning and arranging and going through with this new structure so I can spend more time with you and Leonie, and eventually with our children.” I smiled softly at him and clasped his hand when he reached for mine. He smiled back, and we gazed into each other's eyes for a while-probably making anyone who saw us feel nauseous, but I didn't care. I don't think Max did either. “How about you?” I shrugged.

“Well, I called everyone who was involved and told them about how neatly our problem was resolved. My parents volunteered to keep Leonie until the weekend, and I accepted. Helene was very happy, and we made a lunch date for Monday. I tidied up a bit and then I wandered around the West Side for a while. I watched people and I went window-shopping. Victoria's Secret is having a sale,” I said and watched him. He brightened.

“Did you buy anything?” I shook my head, and his expression fell so comically that I laughed.

“I might go back, if you want. You could even come,” I suggested slyly. He looked intrigued.

“Hmm. An interesting proposition. I think I'll take you up on that offer.” He gave me a look so scorching that I blushed. I could feel my nipples tightening and I knew he could see them through my thin shirt. His eyes dropped there and his expression became even more heated-I could feel him there, as though he had touched me. I shivered. Our eyes met again, and I saw the two red arcs of color high on his cheekbones. His hand tightened around mine almost painfully, and he stretched his legs out so that they clasped mine. I could feel his heat burning through the layers of his pants and my stockings, and I felt branded by it, surrounded.

It was probably all for the best that the waitress delivered the beers and the salads at this point. Max let go of my hand and grabbed his drink, taking a long gulp. He stared fixedly at a rather ugly painting of the Hudson River in autumn for a while, and then turned back to me with a sigh.

“Wow, that was dangerous. Let's not talk about anything lingerie related.” I smiled and agreed. “Did you buy anything anywhere?” He asked curiously. I dropped my eyes guiltily.

“Well…” He sighed.

“Books, right? You couldn't get me some lingerie, but you bought books.” I giggled for I knew he wasn't really irritated.

“Yes, I confess I did.”

“Romance novels?”

“No.”

“Damn. You learned a lot from those things!” I grinned, secretly agreeing with him.

“Well, I figured that I have more than enough romance in my real life, so I don't need to read about the romance in other people's lives. I bought a few books in French and Italian to read, and I also got some books on learning Russian. I think it's about time to add another language, and I've always wanted to learn Russian.” He smiled indulgently.

“You and your languages. No music books?” I shook my head.

“You know, it didn't even occur to me. I've been neglecting my poor keyboard.” He gave me another heated look.

“Believe me; I have no problem with you neglecting your music as long as you keep neglecting it for me, and no one else.” I grinned again, trying to keep the topic light.

“Well, and once we get home I'll neglect it again. But we won't talk about this now; look how the lingerie set us off!” He knew I was right and gave a groan.

By this time the salads were finished, and the main course soon arrived. I forked up a bit of fettuccini with chicken into my mouth and moaned in pleasure.

“Ohh, that's so good.” I had my eyes closed in ecstasy. It was creamy and delicious, the pasta cooked to just the right texture and the chicken tender and flavorful. Max made a strangled noise in his throat and his calves, on either side of mine, clenched. I opened my eyes to find him staring at me as though he were about to take a bite out of me. I flushed. “Max, don't look at me like that. We're in a public restaurant!” He glared back at me.

“If you don't stop making sex noises, I'm going to drag you into the bathroom so you can make a lot more!” It all made sense.

“I'm sorry.”

“Damn,” he said. “I'm sorry, Elizabeth. I didn't mean to snap. You're turning me on way too quickly, and we're nowhere near ready to go home. So let's just eat, ok?” I smiled at him shyly and offered him a bite, which he took readily. “Wow,” he said. “That is absolutely amazing. So is mine, though. Want a bite?” I nodded eagerly.

“I love mushrooms.”

“These were cooked just right; they're not at all rubbery, and the steak is tender and juicy.” He put the bite into my mouth, and the flavor exploded onto my tongue.

“Oh, you're right,” I said as soon as I swallowed. “I can't decide whose is better.” He smiled lightly.

“Well, you're welcome to more of mine.”

“And you can have some of mine.” We pushed our plates closer together and continued eating.

By the time we were done with my fettuccini and his steak, I was fairly full and I said so. Max pretended to be shocked.

“But you can't be. You only ate enough for a small army; even small armies always have room for desert. Besides, you ordered the caramel pecan pie-you always find room for that.” He was right, and I acknowledged it gracefully by digging into my pie when it arrived.

Now, their caramel pecan pie is heavenly. It has a flakey crust, and the chef mixes the pecan filling with more caramel than most do. Then there is hot caramel sauce poured over top and caramel-laced vanilla ice cream. I shrugged aside the calories; don't people say that sex is the best cardio workout you can have? The amount of sex I had been getting and was planning on getting was more than enough to work off the pie. I smiled at the thought, which intrigued Max.

“What was that sexy little smile for?” He asked.

“I'll tell you when we get home,” I promised. He understood. “How are your fritters?” He offered me a bite.

“Even better than usual-and the whipped cream is laced with maple syrup, which is a combination I haven't had before. But I approve strongly.” I agreed with him as soon as I had tasted it.

“Oh, that is amazing. Here, try some of mine.” I offered him the fork, and he opened his mouth.

“Mmm. I love caramel. By the way, I do believe that we have a jar of sundae topping at home-and it's caramel.” He paused to look at me, tracing his eyes over my breasts. “Not that you need any help being delicious, but I think I'll try that once I take the emeralds off.” I shivered and put down my fork. My pie was only half finished, but I was more than willing to leave it. He looked at me knowingly and put his own fork down.

Beckoning to the waitress, he asked for the check. One of his legs stroked mine gently, sending a shudder through me. His eyes were fixed on my throat, and I knew that my heart was beating strongly. Then his eyes moved down to my breasts, and I glanced down to see that they were puckered again. I rested my elbows on the table to hide it from everyone else; Max could still see quite well, and he took advantage of his position. Leaning forward, he whispered,

“Just imagine what I'm going to do to you when we get home. I'll try to go slow, but I might have to tear that pretty blouse. Once it's gone, I'll put my mouth on you right there. And your little nipples will get so hard that they could break that ring on your finger.” I looked down at the diamonds he had given me, and at the moment I could well believe what he said was true. “You'll be making those damned little cries that drive me wild, and soon I won't be able to wait anymore. I hope you don't care about those pantyhose, because you'll be too far gone to take them off yourself and I'll be too crazy to care.” My body was reacting to his words like his touch; readying itself for him. However, if the check didn't come soon, I might just bend him over the table right there. But the waitress appeared, and Max slapped down a wad of bills-I'm not even sure he counted them. It was enough, but it looked as though the waitress was going to get a really, really nice tip. But I didn't care-I grabbed my coat and my purse and only had time to thank the waitress before my husband hustled me out of the building and into the car. I smiled at his impatience, but I could hardly feel superior about it-I was just as hot, just as impatient. I waited breathlessly as he pulled into traffic and we sped on our way back to the apartment.

Chapter 40

We tumbled into the apartment, already entwined, tugging at fastenings and buttons. Finally, Max pulled away in impatience and tore off his own shirt, the buttons flying all over the room. For some reason, I found this extremely funny, and I couldn't stop laughing; I had some considerable difficulty undoing my own top, but I slid the skirt down my legs without difficulty. What he had missed in my dressing was the lace garter-belt and the silk stockings that I wore. When he looked me up and down in that way he has that makes me feel as though he is stroking me, his face hardened so much that there was no visible expression. I was a little concerned, but when he brought his eyes back up to mine, I saw that the flames of desire were burning even hotter than before. I blushed under his scorching gaze, and he relaxed enough to chuckle.

“I love that you can still blush with me,” he said in that silky voice he uses when he is seducing me. I shivered, as I always do when he uses it. He stepped closer and stroked the emerald necklace with just the tip of his forefinger. He still hadn't actually touched me, but my body was reacting to him as though he had spent an hour exploring it. I was wearing nothing but my panties, stockings, and the necklace.

My hair was moving against my shoulders, and he swept it aside gently, coming to stand behind me. He bent his head to press his lips lightly to my neck. He ran his fingers through the strands of hair, tugging gently. My head fell back on his shoulder; he bent his head down next to mine, and he wrapped his arms around my waist and held me to him, rocking gently. The tenderness of the action made my heart flutter; this man was not just satisfying lust. In some way, it was even more arousing than the touch on my neck, the silky voice and the scorching look. It filled something missing deep inside me; I can't really describe it, and I don't know that you would understand what I mean even if I could. I turned in his arms slowly and slid my arms up to tug at the back of his neck. His head came back down, so that his cheek rested against mine. I turned my head slightly to whisper in his ear;

“I love you, Max. I always will.” His arms tightened around me and he growled deep in his throat. He didn't say anything in return, but I wasn't upset. He was not used to saying it, and the fact that he said it rarely in some way made it even more special when he did tell me that he loved me. I smiled gently, and he felt it against his skin. He pulled back slightly to look at me for a long moment; I thought he would speak, but he just growled again and took my mouth with a ferocity that startled me. There was no gentle touching of lips, no slight forays into my mouth to tease me; he kissed me as though he was trying to imprint himself into me. Suddenly, he had no control. He picked me up and tossed me over his shoulder, much to my astonishment. I shrieked softly, but with a gentle smack on my bottom, he said

“Quiet,” still in a voice much rougher than usual. The undignified position would have made me giggle had I not been eagerly anticipating our arrival in the bedroom. When we reached it, he dropped me on the bed. I bounced slightly and was still. Without looking at me again, he walked into the bathroom and shut the door. I was startled; he had been more than ready to make love when we came in—his body was not made to disguise his arousal. I heard the shower turn on and sat up in confusion. What was he doing? After a moment, he came out with a towel in hand, still gloriously naked.

“What are you doing?” I asked curiously. I could see that he was no longer aroused, but as I stared in fascination, his shaft began to stir and thicken; I couldn't tear my eyes away. When I finally dragged my eyes up to his face, he had an indulgent smile on his face. “I don't understand,” I stammered, confused by the look in his eyes.

“Don't you? This time was supposed to be slow, to be a seduction,” he explained. “I was much too hot—you do that to me,” he added, with a self-deprecating smile. I smiled back, but I was still not certain that I understood.

However, comprehension was not long in coming; when he lay down next to me, I could see that he was not as hard as he is when he takes me, and then I understood: He wanted to take a long time with me; he wanted to torment me and he wanted to ensure that release would be long in coming. I grinned up at him, eagerly awaiting his first move. He grinned back and kissed my mouth swiftly.

“Now, let us see. Where to begin? Ah yes.” He removed the necklace from around my neck and laid it in a straight line from the center of my collarbone to my belly button. “Pay attention, Elizabeth. Whatever I do to you, you must keep the necklace in a straight line. If it falls off, I will stop. If it becomes a curving line, I will have to slow down. Do you understand? The more still you remain, the sooner I will allow you to come.” I nodded swiftly, impatient to begin. He lay watching me for a moment, a strange smile curving his mouth. How difficult could it be? I asked myself with complaisance.

Several minutes later, I realized just how difficult it could be. The necklace had not fallen off, but I had been unable to prevent my little movements at his caresses. I had managed not to arch into his mouth when he took a nipple between his lips, but it had been a close thing. What had nearly spelled disaster was when he began stroking the swollen nub between my thighs in what I assume was a clockwise movement, while stroking the aureole of one breast in (I think) a counter-clockwise movement. The stimulation was bad enough, but the contrast added something elusive to the feelings, and I couldn't stop from writhing on the bed. He had lifted both fingers as soon as I moved, and I quickly stilled, remembering his injunction.

“Can I touch it?” I asked, a thought occurring to me.

“Hmm,” Max replied. “Well, I didn't say that you couldn't, so I suppose it would only be fair. Next time we play this game, you will not be allowed, so do not depend on it.” I felt a rush of heat coming through me at the thought of playing this game again. I would, I silently vowed, become the master of this game. This brought a smile to my face. Max probably knew what I was thinking, but he refrained from comment. When he would have returned to his tormenting activities, something occurred to me. I held up a hand to pause him, then took one of his fingers and ran it over my bottom lip. Careful not to let the necklace slip, I opened my mouth slightly and ran his finger over the edge of my bottom teeth, closing my lips around it, and finally sucking on it strongly. He shuddered. I allowed him to pull his finger loose, but I took his palm and pressed a wet kiss to it, allowing my tongue to lave it.

“Are you going to come into me, Max? Become a part of me, so deep that you won't know where you stop and I begin?” He groaned an affirmative, and I could see that he was more than ready to do so; his shaft had been growing darker at the tip for a while now. It would be interesting to see how far I could push him before he did something. “When you do,” I continued in a soft, husky voice, “I'll do what you like, and clench my muscles on you-you like that, don't you Max.” He nodded dumbly, clearly beyond words. “And I'll be wet-oh, so wet and hot and fit you so perfectly that you'll know I was made for you; and I'll know you were made for me. And you won't be able to resist me. You won't, will you Max.” He shook his head. I went on in an even softer voice, looking up at him through my lashes. “I love it when you come into me, Max. I feel as though I'm in heaven, and then you fly me even higher. You feel huge and hot and as hard as steel. I wonder if you'll even fit; but you always do. And I feel stretched and full and whole. Whole, in a way I don't when you aren't inside me. I feel as though you are inside my soul, Max. And I can't resist you. I'm yours, always.” He was staring at me now, so much love and desire in his eyes I could hardly bear it. “Will you put your necklace back around my neck, Max? It's like the rings I wear; they mark me as yours, in a way that no one could ignore. And I am yours, Max. You know that, don't you?” I paused, for he had growled more deeply and strongly than I had ever heard; he never has much to say when we make love, especially when he gets involved the way he was now.

With shaking hands, he lifted the necklace from my belly and clasped it around my neck. I lay back, staring up at him in total trust and love.

“I love you, Max.” That was the last straw. With a groan, and so swiftly that I hardly knew what was happening, he was on top of me and thrusting inside me. Like I had told him, there was a moment when I wondered if I could take him, but I could. I always could. He stayed still, deep inside me, for as long as he could. Then he began thrusting strongly, his fingers digging into my thighs as I entwined my legs with his, doing as I had promised and clasping him with my inner muscles. He paused, gasping.

“So good, baby! So good!” he gasped. “You're mine, Elizabeth. Say you're mine!” I stared up at him, my eyes beginning to darken as passion overtook me. As I felt myself being tossed up through the clouds, I managed to cry.

“I'm yours, Max. And you are mine.” With that, he gave a cry and joined me in the sky.

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