White Heat (38 page)

“About time you got home.”

Max.

Her fingers shook slightly as she dropped the spray back into her bag and closed the door behind her. She told her heart to behave. He’d seen, he’d conquered, he’d disappeared too many times for her to buy into the fairy tale that he would ever stay. Not permanently, anyway. The question was, was she prepared to let him love and leave her again? And again? How many times could she survive his leaving her?

He sat up from his relaxed position. “You look”—his hot gaze tracked her body, then came to rest on her face.—”Amazing.”

Casually tossing her clutch onto the hail table, Emily unwrapped the shawl from her shoulders and hung it on the coat rack. Then she was sorry she had. She needed some props to keep her hands busy. “Thanks.” She shouldn’t care about his compliments. Or notice that if his look had a temperature, the thin silk of her new dress would’ve melted right off her body. His heated look made every penny she’d spent on it worthwhile.

She gave him what she hoped looked like a casual once over. He looked exhausted. A little rough around the edges. But his hair was damp, and she could smell her shampoo, so he’d apparently availed himself of her shower while he’d waited. “You look like hell.”
Liar.

Max shrugged. “It’s been a long month.”

She met his penetrating gaze head on, remembering her backbone and the thirty-two days and nights of wondering when she’d remember that Max didn’t play for keeps. “Hasn’t it, though?”

After Rome, he’d stayed just long enough to make sure she was okay before walking away. Again. Third time with Max Aries had not been the charm.

She had, honest to God, not expected to see him ever again. She’d known that—this time—he’d be gone for good. They no longer had Daniel in common, and the terrorists were caught. Max didn’t need her. It didn’t matter that she believed in her soul that he cared for her, his
job
was his life. No woman, not even one who loved him as much as she did, was ever going to be able to compete with that. She’d known
that
when he’d walked away without a backward glance.

She shifted from one foot to the other, her toes pinched in the sexy but too pointy, too high heels she’d worn all day. Max cocked his head, his attention on her bare shoulders and the low dip of her décolletage. Her mouth went dry, and the hollow ache in her chest started to thrum with longing.

“I had to go.”

“I know.” She’d known exactly what would happen when she’d allowed Max into her heart.

“I thought you’d wait.”

I thought you’d wait?
She blinked. “You thought I’d . . .
wait?”
she repeated with a small laugh. “Why on earth would I do a stupid thing like that?” Instead of waiting for him to return as if she were a lovesick cast-off, she’d taken the first flight out the next day and gone to see her mother in Seattle. Wishing for a confidante, hoping to find her mom sober and available, Emily had been disappointed, but not surprised to find that nothing had changed. Her mom was in rehab again.

She knew, after many years of heartache and trying, that she couldn’t give her mother what she needed to stop the craving of addiction. Once again, she was in a position where she couldn’t force someone to love her as much as she loved them. It seemed to be a theme in her life.

Resolving to pick up the pieces and live happily ever after, damn it, even if she was alone, she’d returned home to Florence. And while her heart had ached with longing and loneliness, she’d immediately started putting her life back on an even keel. She’d accepted several interesting commissions, and already had enough work to keep her busy for several years.

“I had a full and interesting life before you showed up, Max. And I’ve resumed said life full throttle.” Her heels clicked as she crossed the terrazzo floor to walk into the vast living room. Closer. But not
too
close.

She casually placed a hand at the base of her throat to cover the rapid and erratic beat of her heart, and stared him down. “What are you doing in Florence? Have you come back to sell your father’s villa? If so, I might be interested—”

“I’m not selling.” He cut her off sounding impatient, and mildly annoyed. “Not at the moment anyway. You need better security I just walked in.”

He hadn’t
just walked in.
“I thought I
had
better security. Your people came and installed it while I was gone,” she said dryly.

His lips twitched. “I hear you kicked Carlo down the stairs and rendered him sterile.”

“He should have waited for me outside, not in.” Looking at her slim gold watch she realized that she’d left her house seven hours ago. Judging by the mess, Max had been there all that time. Glancing pointedly at the glasses, mugs and empty plates on the coffee table in front of him, she raised a brow. “I see you’ve helped yourself to refreshments.”

“It’s been a long wait.” His smile slipped, and he gave her a stony look, which ruffled her feathers.

He had no idea what a long wait was. “Well, then, don’t let me keep you. It’s late, and I need to be up early.” She suddenly felt a stab of pity for her mom, wondering if this desire to have something at all costs was what her mother battled every day.

Emily had been attempting a twelve-step plan for her Max addiction. It hadn’t worked worth a damn so far. But she was willing to keep at it until it
did
work.

He rubbed a hand around the back of his neck, then leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees. “Don’t you want to know where I’ve been?”

“Gone?” Somehow she made her voice cool and ironic. “Isn’t that your thing, Max? To be here one day and gone the next?”

“Didn’t you miss me?”

“Unbearably,” she said candidly. “But you know, each time you leave it gets a little easier.” A lie. Nothing made missing Max easier, and seeing him again made all the feelings inside her churn up like sand in a windstorm. Her knees felt mushy, and she sat down in the big easy chair opposite him, draped her arms on the wide arm rests. Leaning back she enjoyed the way his eyes tracked her legs as she crossed them. Hmm. She let the thin silk slide up, exposing a little more bare thigh.

A nerve jumped in his cheek. “I’ve never seen you dressed like that. It’s—You—Jesus, Emily, help me out here.”

She recognized that lust—filled expression he wore, and her traitorous body responded with a curl of heat in her belly and the rapid thud-thud-thud of her heart. “Sure,” she smiled. The only time he’d seen her dressed up had been to the party last year. But that gown had flowed to the floor, and covered more than it exposed. This dress consisted of about two ounces of silk. “You’ve never seen me in a short red dress before.”

The hunger and heat in his gaze made her wonder if he had X-ray eyes and could see beneath the flimsy material to the red silk thong and demi-cup bra she wore beneath it.

He stood up with the grace of a caged tiger, so fast two pillows fell of the sofa. She forced herself not to react. But he wasn’t coming to grab her—unfortunately—he was standing up so he could pace. He shoved his fingers in the front pockets of his jeans and walked around the coffee table, apparently to find more space.

“AJ’s doing great.” His voice sounded uncharacteristically strained.

“I know.” She could win an award for how calm she sounded when inside she was sorting through confusion and desire. “I’ve spoken to her several times.” AJ had made a point of talking about Max. A lot.

“I was in Washington, D.C. last week. Savage’s arraignment.” Max wandered around the room picking things up and putting them down again in an interestingly distracted, very un-Max-like way. He walked over to the French doors, looked out, turned around, his expression . . . nervous. Stoic T-FLAC operative, Max Aries,
nervous.

Expression composed, Emily’s heart was doing flip-flops and her palms were suddenly damp. Did she dare to hope? Everything she wanted, everything she loved, was right here pacing her worn antique Persian carpet. All six plus feet of leashed energy that was Max Aries.

“They have her for several counts of treason. She’s facing a mandatory death penalty”

“How do you feel about that?” How do you feel about
me?

“She’ll get what she deserves. Because of her, thousands of people died. She betrayed her country, and she betrayed the people she worked with.” Absently he picked up a small decorative box without looking at it.

Emily’s breath caught as he absently stroked his thumb gently across the embossed filigree on the lid of the pill box in his hand. Remembering how his touch had felt on her
skin
made her nipples become achingly erect. “What happened to Tillman’s son?”

He couldn’t look at her any more, Max thought a little desperately. She was unbearably exquisite in that little red number that barely covered her delectable body. He’d had a glimpse of the small hard points of her nipples, and thought he’d lose it right then. Pacing helped. Some. Picking her up, carrying her into the bedroom, and making love to her would go a long way in calming his nerves right now He’d thought he’d known how she felt, but now...?

Who had she gone out with tonight? What man had she been thinking about when she’d poured herself into that scrap of silk? If anyone had told him as recently as a month ago that he would be jealous of another man, Max would’ve laughed his ass off. He didn’t do jealousy. God help him, he’d never cared enough about any woman to feel it.

Emily’s name came up in a whole list of firsts.

He wanted her so badly his entire body pulsed with it. But first things first. He carefully set the small box back on the table, then resumed walking around the large room. “Prescott was the one who initially came up with the idea of swapping the fakes for the originals.” He could smell her. Roses. Emily. He wondered across the room to look blindly at a small painting hanging on the far wall.

“Didn’t like Daddy giving away his inheritance,” he told her without turning around. “With a hefty bribe, he elicited Norcroft’s help in getting provenance for the fakes, then had him make the switches. Prescott didn’t know that Norcroft didn’t need the bribe. He was already draining Tillman senior’s accounts.” He had to turn around to look at her, his entire body demanded it. His breath hitched. God, she was lovely. Lovely in so many ways that Max had counted and then lost track of the number.

The lamp beside her shone in her hair, made her skin look like alabaster. “Are you waiting for someone?” He tried to sound casual instead of combative.

Her head jerked up and she gave him a startled look. “Who?”

He shrugged. “Whoever you went out with earlier?” Was the bastard coming back? Expecting to take her to bed? Expecting to peel her out of that little nothing of a dress and—

“Don’t be ridiculous, Max. Go on with your story.”

He didn’t find the idea of her being with another man ridiculous at all. He found the idea made him homicidal.

“Given another opportunity for big cash transactions, Norcroft made sure senior’s generous gifts were distributed where
he
wanted them. As far as Prescott was concerned, he was merely safeguarding his inheritance from the old man.”

Leaning forward, Emily’s dress rose a little higher on her bare legs. Her lips were slightly parted as she watched him pace around her damned living room like a tethered tiger. He turned away before he jumped on her like an animal. Damn, he had to finish telling her about business before he could get personal.

When had he lost the ability to pick up on a woman’s cues? He had no freaking idea
what
the hell she was thinking as she politely watched him.

“He didn’t know about the bombs?”

“No. Norcroft did that on his own. For years he was siphoning off whatever the hell he wanted. His terrorist activities started small. Extortion mostly, then he started buying and selling weapons on a major scale.” Her nipples strained against the red silk. For him? Or was she cold. Whatever the cause, it had a decided affect on his body. He shoved his fingers deep into his front pockets.

“How did he connect with your traitor? The Black Rose?”

“Savage ran into him about ten years ago, after he’d done an arms deal with a small time tango in Argentina. Savage was the T-FLAC operative sent in to retrieve the weapons. She followed the trail back to Norcroft, and made him a lucrative offer. If he cut her in, she’d help him stay one step ahead of T-FLAC.”

“You live in a dangerous world, especially when you have to keep watch over your shoulder all the time.”

“It took us ten years to get Black Rose.”

“Only because Savage was playing both sides, and knew where and when you’d be looking. But you eventually caught her.”

“Yeah.”

“And Black Lily?”

“Norcroft got the idea for the name from Savage. He got off on knowing Savage thought
she
was pulling
his
strings, when all the while he was building Black Lily behind her back. Building a silent army of tangos, most of them trained by Savage, but turned by Norcroft. Assets of the Black Lily insidiously consumed the members of Black Rose over the years, keeping a low profile, and staying under our radar. Until Norcroft became more powerful than Savage could ever have imagined and he was ready for Black Lily to take full credit.”

“But Alistair Norcroft is still out there
somewhere.
He could—”

“No. We got him.” Max had tracked the son of a bitch for three weeks. Three weeks of turning over every rock and dung heap. The image of that fucking bomb strapped to Emily’s chest had kept him strongly motivated. He was prepared to die before he’d allow Norcroft to get away scot-free. Max wouldn’t have left her to die alone. He would’ve wrapped his arms around her and gone with her to whatever afterworld there was.

And if he was willing to die for someone, maybe it was time to have the courage to love them.

He’d eventually found Norcroft in London. There’d still been the official T-FLAC questions to be answered, but Norcroft hadn’t resisted, guns blazing. It had been
mano a mano,
and the fight hadn’t lasted nearly long enough for Max to relieve the pent up fury he had for Norcroft using Emily the way he’d done.