I Run to You (32 page)

He winced and winked, “Fraid so. But that’s
only temporary.”

“What—”

“Shuu, on the phone.” He cut her off and then
talked to Sunny.

“Yeah, she’s okay. She’s going to do it.” Max
eyed her as he spoke, glad when she nodded and breathed in deep as
if preparing herself. “Okay. That’s even better. About an hour
then? See you.”

He clicked off and told her, “He’ll meet us,
instead. He just needs a few signatures. He has all the cards and
phone numbers of people you will interview with. If this thing goes
well, and we are going to believe it will, your mother will agree
to sharing custody—without the courts getting involved. You’re her
mother on the birth certificate.”

He drove toward the motels, ignoring the fact
it was in the worst part of town. When Max pulled into hers, he did
not get out until she invited.

She opened her door, a bent and dented number
8 in a line of 20 rough looking rooms. Jordan warned him, “It’s a
dump.”

“Stop worrying about it.” Max waved for her
to go in.

Inside, the window unit dripping and humming,
he could see that for all it was a dump, Jordan had tried to make
it a sort of home.

She excused herself, going to the dresser and
gathering clothing, heading for a minute bathroom. He sat down on a
bed she had covered with an Indian blanket. Max let his gaze roam
the posters she had taped up; everything from musicians to movies,
and those travel agency type of (see the world things). The dresser
was cluttered with girl stuff, perfumes, brushes, lotions and
several things he had no clue about.

There were funky little bowls and plates too,
filled with stuff, one full of slides and pics.

He saw her guitar, a beat up one, which
explained why she used Jude’s. Max smiled. He knew her birthday was
July. He knew what he was getting her.

Eventually the bathroom door opened.

He glanced that way but did not intrude. He
heard the hair dryer, then a few soft curses as she dropped things
on the floor.

When she emerged, tossing her other clothing
in a basket, he sat up, slowly, then stood and looked over her.

“Do I look, okay?” She nervously smoothed her
green silk blouse and new denims. Her hair was combed down, to the
side, eyes with pinkish shadow, her lips glossed.

“You look beautiful.” Max gave her his best
dimpled smile.

Jordan stared at it, distracted a moment. “I
don’t get why you’re doing this. I don’t get what you’re doing
here. With me—”

He reached, tilted her chin up, and in husky
tones supplied, “You will, Jordan O’Quinn. I’ll make you feel it in
your bones.” He kissed her.

Breathing hot, quick, she pulled back first,
retorting breathless, “Not now. Don’t turn me on, right now.”

He teased growly, “Do I?”

She grabbed a purse and her key. “Yes.” She
looked over her shoulder but waved him toward the door.

They were in the car again, headed to the
café that Sunny picked. It had a nice outdoor area, and would be a
relaxed atmosphere.

Max sensed her staring at him and glanced
over, almost able to read her mind. “I’ll be with you, all the way,
baby.” He reached and held her hand.

Holding it tightly she asked, “Do I have to
tell them who—he was?”

“I don’t think so. Sunny may want to hear the
story though.” He cautioned her.

“My parents never believed it, so they didn’t
do anything about it. They blamed me.”

“Your parents weren’t parents.” Max
clipped.

“Yeah, well. I heard he was killed. Driving
drunk—or something.”

He could tell she did not want to talk about
him.

“Tell sunny what you want to. He will respect
that. The meeting is more to work out your end with the
negotiations.”

Somewhat panicked just as they pulled into
the café lot. She told him, “I can’t bring her there—that
hotel….”

“I’ve got that covered.”

“No. Max. I won’t—”

“Hey.” Putting the car in park, he released
the seat belt. Turning to her, Max locked their gazes. “Unless you
absolutely hate me, or unless you don’t like me as much as I do
you—I see us together for a very long, long, time. But we’ll talk
about that after your meeting.”

She chewed her lip, obviously wanting to
debate it. She finally turned and got out.

Sunny stood from one of the café chairs—the
tables under wide sunbrellas. He had already ordered them coffees.
In his “work attire,” which was a white shirt, lightweight and
European cut suite, hair combed back and braided, Sunny shook Max’s
hand, and smiled at Jordan, giving her a wink as they sat down.

“It’s all going well, my dear. Don’t be
anxious.”

“I can’t help it.” Jordan smiled, accepting
the coffee, taking off the lid to add the creamer off the tray.

Max sat to her right, preparing his, and
giving Sunny props for not whipping right into things. The soft
leather binder was under his elbow as he relaxed, sipped, nodded to
people who called as they passed by the flower boxes lining the
entry.

Sunny gave Jordan time to relax, to sip her
coffee.

Max saw her fingers tremble and reached out,
weaving them with his, letting them rest on the table. His thumb
brushed her knuckles... He met Sunny’s small smile with one of his
own. He had been obvious already, so there was no surprise in his
gesture.

“Okay. Let me tell you what we’ve
accomplished….”

As sunny talked, Jordan listened, with
painful intensity.

Max did too. However, he had gone over every
detail, every day almost with Sunny. He knew that Jordan’s father
was in frail health and aged beyond his sixty years. He attended
church but didn’t preach. He had a couple of years at the most to
live. Her mother was, from the picture, a robust and stern looking
woman, long dresses, iron gray hair, and lines of rigidity in every
part of her body.

From what Sunny gleaned, she was strict,
almost suffocating the little girl. Much like Jordan must have
been. Once the social worker got past her reserve, the child was
apparently intelligent and charming. There were problems, signs of
them, according to the woman. All stemming from the anti-social
life her grandmother imposed on her. Nevertheless, everyone had the
sense the girl would flourish given a chance.

The problems with arranging custody, or even
visitation, could be dealt with on Jordan’s end, Max was
determined. It was getting her mother to see that she would only do
harm resisting any contact at all…

“Would you be willing to meet with your
mother, with a mediator present?”

“Yes.” Max felt her hand tighten on his.

“Good. No matter what she calls you, or says,
you remain calm. Everything she does will be observed and
recorded.”

“I will.”

Sunny looked at Max. “I’d like to talk to her
alone.”

After receiving Jordan’s nod, Max left,
taking his coffee and going for a walk. Following talk, there would
be the paperwork, so he went to the small park across the way and
walked off some of his own built up anxiety.

He had few more hurdles to jump himself. He
sat on the shaded bench, able to observe them in the distance. He
sipped his coffee—and sighed loud in relief, that this part was
finally over. He had not slept, trying to think of how to tell her.
Scared, she would take it the wrong way—say it was his presumption
and arrogance again.

It was a nice day, soothing, with birds
singing and the sun not too hot to stand. Before long, or so it
seemed, he saw Sunny carrying his folder, walking with Jordan in
the parking lot.

Max came to his feet and crossed traffic,
reached them, as they were leaning against his car talking.

“Thanks, for everything.” He shook Sunny’s
hand.

“It’s my pleasure, Max.” Sunny smiled at him.
He said before heading to his car, “Madeline likes her a lot,
too.”

Max drew Jordan to his side. After Sunny went
to his car, he asked her, “You okay?”

“Yeah. I’m good.”

She had the papers. They headed back and Max
began, “Are you too overwhelmed or—”

“I feel like I’m having a dream.” She was
honest. “I feel a bit surreal.”

Max smiled at that. “I know we have to
collect your bike and you’ll need to change for that, but I’ve
something else to show you.”

She groaned.

Max turned off at a huge empty lot.

Jordan frowned, staring at him perplexed.

Max parked and gestured. “It’s in the glove
box.” He watched her flip the door to it down.

“Well?”

Jordan reached in and picked up the single
ring laying there. “What’s this?” she sounded breathless.

“Engagement ring.”

He watched her stare at it.

“It’s a little fast. Okay—” Max laughed at
her eye roll. “It’s too fast. But it will all make sense, if you
agree to move in with me this weekend.”

“Wooah.” She jerked her gaze from the ring
back to him. “Just… wait a minute….”

Max swallowed, his nerves suddenly hitting
him again. “I know, I’m doing it—being pushy. Seeming arrogant and
all—it’s not that.” The romance part, it will still go at your
pace. I promise you. I swear to you, Jordan. I’m not trying to rush
that.”

“So what do you call this?—” She held up the
ring.

“Another promise?” he answered softly. “When
we— when you, get, Leigh. No matter if, it is for part time, or
full custody. Wouldn’t it be great to have the house out on the
lake to take her to? We can build on. There is the whole park and
all the kids. And it would be so great.”

“Are you crazy? She uttered softly.

“I have another house. “ Max sounded like he
was confessing to murder, he realized. “My Uncle and Aunt’s estate
in Kentucky….”

“Estate?”

“Fraid so.” He grimaced “But it’s a home too.
I loved it there. I—Hell. It’s going to sound like bragging to you,
but I can buy a house anywhere.”

“Max…”

She lowered her hand with the ring. “I can
rent somewhere else. I probably will. I realized it, talking to
Sunny. I can do overtime shifts. And the band will make a little
bit.”

“Yeah, baby. I know that. I know you can.” He
reached and touched her cheek. “But won’t you please try this? We
don’t have to be on top of each other. I will give you space. We
will work it out. But we need to see each other, be together, too.
I want to be with you. There—for you.”

She closed her eyes.

When Jordan dropped her head back, he lowered
his hand but only to her thigh. Watching her face, Max realized
what he had thrown at her at one time—and so suddenly.

“Okay, not this weekend. But before next
month.”

She laughed and opened her eyes. “That’s two
weeks, Max.”

“I know.”

“I’ve been on my own a long time. Taken care
of myself. I don’t want you to—”

“I respect that,” he cut her off. Taking her
hand, he closed it around the ring. “At least take the ring. I will
give you time, then. For the other.”

She stared at him awhile with something
between dismay and disbelief. Jordan offered finally, “I’ll take
the ring, and when you dump me, I’ll hock it.”

He laughed. “All right.”

Leaning in, Max kissed her, soft at first,
then as she opened to him, with heat and passion—until they were
both breathing sluggish. He lifted an inch, the taste of her still
on his lips. “Is today a bad day to say, I wish you’d come home
with me awhile. I want to spend time with you?”

Her hand came to his cheek. “No. It’s a
perfect day to say that.”

Max kissed her again. “I’ll take you by to
change, and get your bike?”

She nodded.

He did that, and as later he drove toward the
lake, Max kept her in the rear view mirror. He had gotten half of
what he had wanted. When she’d come out of the hotel, she was
wearing the ring. He grinned. Stupidly happy.

At the lake house, he waited for her to park.
“Have you eaten?”

“Yeah. At the restaurant.” She let him take
her hand.

They went inside.

“Make yourself at home. “ He left her
downstairs long enough to change his shirt for a T-shirt and take
off his shoes. Looking over from the loft, he saw her, looking fine
in those jeans and a sport top that rode above her belly, relaxed
on his sofa. Her eyes were on the picture he had taken of her that
day he’d rode on her Harley from the farmhouse.

Finger combing his silken straight hair, Max
took the stairs from the loft and asked at the bottom, “You want to
sit on the front or back deck?”

She stood, looking him over in a way that
made him hot. “Back.”

“Take off your boots. Got to' have bare feet
here on the lake.”

She laughed, arching a brow, but sat down and
pulled them off.

He came over and eyed them. “Sexy feet.”

“Not a fetish I hope. Because I’m
ticklish.”

He pulled her up by her hand. They walked to
the back deck.

Slipping his arm around her, getting a thrill
from any part of her skin, Max said, “Not feet. But I have one. Do
you?”

“Is that a joke?”

He grunted. “Sorry. Yes, actually. I thought
you’d say your slide or something.”

“I should have said that.”

She stepped away from him, to the deck.
Unconsciously sexy as she turned and spread her arms slightly along
the rail. The lowering sun poised behind her. She offered, “I
should know how to joke like that, at my age.”

“You will.” He looked down her, slowly. Up
her, slower.

“So what is it?’

“What?”

“Your fetish.”

His violet eyes held hers. “I forgot.”

Flushed, Jordan accused, “You’re doing that
again—staring at me.”

Max came closer, his hands covering hers on
the rail while he stared down at her. “You’ll have to get used to
it.” Dipping down, he kissed her. Again, it started unhurried,
sluggish, sexy, and slow. His tongue liked hers, her flavors and
textures. The way she kissed went straight to his head.