Bedding the Bachelors Box Set (Books 1-3) (45 page)

That meant she needed to stop wasting their time. She needed to push forward with her plan. When the time was right, she’d tell Max. Let him know he was off the hook.

“What can we do, Grace and I?” Max asked Rhys.

Grace started. That Max included her in his question surprised her. He’d referred to them as a “we,” reinforcing the conclusion Rhys and Melina would have jumped to when he’d reached out and held her hand.

They weren’t a “we.” Not an “us.” And yet when she glanced at him, she realized he was staring at her as if the word “we” was on purpose.

She cleared her throat. “Yes… What do you need done? I’m happy to help.”

Rhys ran a hand through his hair. “I can’t think of anything.”

Melina jabbed him in the ribs with an elbow. “Uh… hello? Nursery. Cribs. Disaster zone?”

Rhys flashed her a grin, then turned to Max. “I started the project yesterday, but I was distracted by my beautiful wife. The pieces are still all over the nursery. Do you think you and Grace could put cribs together?”

Max looked at Grace. “Do you know how to use those weird hex screwdriver things?”

She couldn’t help it—she giggled. “I think between the two of us, we can figure out how to put together a couple of cribs. After all, neither of us has a beautiful wife to distract us.”

Something dark flashed in Max’s eyes, then was gone. “We’ll do it,” he said to Rhys. “Need anything else?”

“We need bedding for the babies, too,” Melina said. “I have a bunch of clothes and diapers, but other than the quilts, no sheets or blankets.”

“We’ll take care of that once we’re done with the cribs.” He bent to give Melina a light kiss on the cheek. “And we’ll be back later tonight to check on you.”

Another use of the word “we,” Grace noted. An odd tingle shot up her tummy and into her chest. In past relationships, the use of the word “we” had signaled a turning point—a moment when the relationship deepened from dating to a full-on connection. Was Max even aware of what he was saying or how it could be construed?

She gave herself a mental head-shake. She was reading way too much into a casual use of a pronoun. She may have finally admitted Max Dalton had much more depth than she’d originally given him credit for, but that didn’t change anything. He’d offered to give her orgasms in a variety of ways. He seemed to like her and enjoy her company. But he’d liked and enjoyed the company of many, many women over the years, and he’d continue to do so.

Max’s Magic Rule #14:

For good or bad, an audience can turn on you at any time.

The house was quiet—too quiet, Grace thought as she and Max walked into Melina and Rhys’s place. The ticking of a clock in the kitchen was the only sound. Eerie, given that hours earlier her and Melina’s laughter had filled the small home.

“I’ll probably need your help,” Max said, bumping into her as she came to a stop in the doorway of the nursery.

The room was a disaster. Crumpled instructions were scattered on the floor, as were slats, boards, screws and nuts. She nudged a board with her foot. “No problem, I’m happy to help. Looks like Rhys left us a bit of a mess,” she said. “I imagine it would be hard to put a crib together with just one person.”

Max barked out a quick laugh. “Yeah, especially when that one person is me.”

She glanced at him and was surprised to see his face lined with tension instead of humor, the way she’d anticipated. “What do you mean?”

Max shrugged. “Rhys is the one that designs the props we need for the show. When it comes to inanimate objects, I’m great with my hands once something’s built, but…” He shrugged. “Good thing I’m just the looks of the two of us or we’d be stuck with just cards and scarves rather than the intricate stuff Rhys creates.”

“Max,” she said quietly. “You’re not just a sexy and good-looking guy. You’re every bit as talented as Rhys. I’m ashamed if I ever implied otherwise…”

He stiffened and his eyes widened before his expression went blank. “Thanks. Now, how do we get started?” He focused on the crib parts, picking up a piece at random.

He’s insecure and afraid, she realized. Just as insecure and afraid as I am. How is that possible?

“Max—” She stopped when he shook his head.

“Grace,” he said. “I think, despite what you said the other day, you know we’re friends. So given we’re friends, let’s just focus on the cribs, yeah?”

She wanted to shout no. She wanted to insist they talk about
him
and
her
and how much she liked him and how, if she thought it was really possible, she’d want to be more than his friend. Much, much more. Instead, she picked up the crib assembly instructions. “Here, take this and see what you can puzzle out. I’ll gather up the hardware.”

“Hardware?”

“Nuts. Bolts. Those hex screwdriver things you mentioned.”

“Gotcha. I get the wood and you get to screw.”

She laughed.

Five minutes later, Grace watched as Max studied the lengths of wood and the plethora of metal bits she’d carefully placed in front of him, explaining where they all went and how to use the hex driver. He held up two identical screws. “What the fuck? Didn’t I already do this step?”

“Problems, Sugar?” Grace drawled, secretly pleased by how out of sorts Max seemed and how willing he was to let her see that. She suspected that wouldn’t be the case with just anyone.

He pretended to look indignant. “Of course not.”

Without being asked, Grace came over and started to help him assemble the crib. He’d admitted how bad he was at building things. Apparently that hadn’t been much of an exaggeration.

After a few minutes of them working silently, Max cleared his throat. “So we never really talked about that Skype conversation you had earlier. Still determined to go through with Operation Baby?”

Tension tightened her spine. She wasn’t so sure she was but he didn’t need to know that. “I really don’t want to argue with you about it, Max.”

“I don’t want to argue either. I’m really interested. Maybe… maybe I can even help.”

“Help?” Her hands froze, then she moved again, carefully laying out the odds and ends that confused Max to no end.

He shrugged. “Sure. I mean… I know guys…”

“You know guys…” What did he mean?

He cleared his throat again, obviously uncomfortable with the way the conversation was going, but apparently willing to persevere. “I mean, men who might want to make a family. Men maybe a bit more your style.”

“You’re pimping me out?”

She was joking, but when Max slapped a crib part to the ground and furrowed his brow, she worried he’d taken her seriously.

“Are you still determined to find someone to co-parent with, or has that changed at all?”

“Changed, how?” Now she was really confused. What was Max asking?

“I mean, have you reconsidered waiting for more? Love. Romance. In addition to…” He waved his hand, but this time she didn’t even smile at their private joke. When she just stared at him, he blew out a sharp breath. “Never mind. Let’s just get these damned cribs put together—and safely, might I add—and get to the baby store. Don’t we need to buy bedding? Or is it bunting? That’s a thing, right? A baby thing?”

“Yes,” she said slowly. “Bunting is a baby thing, or at least it is in nursery rhymes.” She hesitated, wondering if Max’s questions could possibly be motivated by self-interest in finding love and romance and passion
with her
? But that kind of thinking was just heartbreak waiting to happen.

“I’m going to contact the agency,” she said, “and explain how Robert wasn’t anywhere close to what I wanted in a father for my child. But I’ll admit, talking to him, it’s given me second thoughts about having a baby with a stranger.” How practical her plan had seemed when she’d first come up with it. And yet now, watching Melina and Rhys, becoming aware of the real man Max was behind the mask he presented to the public, she felt confused and uncertain. What would it be like to get pregnant by a man she loved? What would it be like to have the father of her children rush to her bedside when labor started, to kiss her belly and brush her hair from her face? How wonderful would it be if that man was Max?

“Grace?”

She realized she’d zoned out, staring out the windows at the darkened sky. Flashing a quick glance at Max, she noticed how intently he stared at her—as if he’d somehow entered into her mind and had heard her thoughts. But if he’d done that, surely he’d be laughing himself silly. “Maybe you all have been right. I searched for years to find the right man to give me an orgasm. How could I possibility think it would be easy to find an intelligent, educated, career-oriented man who wants a child but not the hassle of a relationship with the child’s mom, beyond parenting?” She shook her head. “Sometimes I think I really am a slice short of an apple pie.””

His expression turned fierce. “Hey stop it. You’re not a slice short of anything. You just want to be happy and fulfilled, and you’re willing to put your heart into it and take risks. That’s admirable.” His expression twisted. “Not many people do that.”

“You do.”

Once again, his expression went blank and for the first time, she realized how much practice he had at doing it. At performing in general. He was good at turning on and off, and concealing his feelings.

How much of Max was an act and how much of himself did he hide without even knowing he was doing it?

She shifted closer toward him. “Max. Are you unhappy in Vegas?”

“I like Vegas. I like being close to Rhys and Melina and knowing their kids are going to have some stability
and
adventure in their lives.”

“But?”

“But sometimes I want more. Doesn’t everyone?”

“Sure, but more of what? Money? Women? Fame?”

His mouth twisted and she mentally winced.

She didn’t mean to, but she kept hurting him. “Do you want the love and family that Rhys and Melina are building together? Because sometimes it seems like you do, and maybe you don’t think you can have it. Kind of how you accepted not being able to watch Houdini while your parents are gone.”

“It’s not the same thing. I—oh shit. My parents. I’ve got to call them. Tell them what’s going on.”

“Won’t they just worry?”

“It’s Melina,” he said simply.

She nodded. “Right.”

He got to his feet, pulled out his phone, then hesitated. “Grace?”

“Yes?”

“I enjoy talking to you. I want to keep doing it.” His mouth twisted wryly. “Among other things, of course. Can we continue this conversation later?”

She bit her lip. “Yes, I’d like that, Max.”

Max left the nursery to call his parents and was back within ten minutes.

“Are they already on a flight back?”

“I convinced them to wait until we have more information from the doctor.” He rubbed his hands together. “So let’s get these cribs together.”

She turned back to the crib parts, stiffening when he said, “Unless you want to tell me why you blushed so hard when you were looking at Rhys and me at the hospital earlier?”

Her back to him, she closed her eyes before pasting a smile on her face and turning around. She handed him two blocks of wood and several screws.

He laughed.

She didn’t.

But she smiled for a good long time as they got to work.

***

A few hours later, Grace stood with her jaw just about to her knees while Max covered the baby store counter with items. Not just sheets and blankets but rattles and teething toys and board books. With each article he placed on the counter, he smiled as if seeing himself playing with the babies or reading them the books.

As the clerk rang up the purchases, Grace noticed a tiny ballerina outfit. A pink tulle ballet skirt banded a white long-sleeved onesie. For some reason, it made her think of the dance and acrobatic show that had moved in next door to Max’s theater, the same one that contributed to their reduced ticket sales. She knew Max and Rhys’s biggest concern was getting Jeremy to renew their lease. Then they intended to brainstorm ways to boost sales. Their late night show already included adult humor and even some topless action by Max’s beautiful assistants, but she couldn’t help thinking of the phrase “fighting fire with fire.”

“Have you ever thought about adding an acrobatic act, or dancers to your show?” she asked.

Pulling out his wallet from his back pocket, Max hesitated. “No. Magic’s always been the focus. I’m not sure I want it to be different.”

“Just because something’s always been one way doesn’t mean a bit of change won’t do it good or result in something even better. Maybe it’s time to start looking at expanding the show to attract people with varied interests. Bring in people who aren’t already sold on the allure of magic.” Maybe it’s time to start thinking about yourself differently, she thought, remembering how he’d indicated wanting more in his life.

He handed the clerk his credit card. “Go on.”

“Tell me the truth. Were you happiest performing with Rhys or are you happier now?”

“Rhys is still plenty involved with the act—”

“That’s not what I asked.”

“I don’t want him to ever feel guilty about doing what he needs to do to make himself and Melina happy.”

“Max, that’s the last thing I want. This is just you and me talking.”

The clerk slipped the receipt closer to Max and he signed. “Then yes, I was happier performing with Rhys. It makes sense. More time with him. Less pressure on me. But I’m handling it.”

“Of course you are. But what about modifying the act a little? Making it about a troupe instead of carrying everything on your shoulders.” She rested a hand on his arm. “The success of the act has been your responsibility for a while now. I see it, Melina sees it, and even Rhys sees it. That’s why he’s trying to find another theater, isn’t it?”

“Seems to be,” Max said.

“It’s not all up to you to fix things. You deserve to be happy, too, you know.”

The clerk placed the bagged items in front of them. Max swept the packages off the countertop, not letting Grace carry any. “If I can fix anything, I will, especially with the babies on the way. But I’ll think about what you said, Grace. I’m not sure I have the time to start investigating dance troupes, though.”