Lost In Me (Here and Now) (14 page)

The gallery’s winter opening is bustling, and William and Cally are glowing as people circulate through the new exhibit. Cally waves at me from across the room, her smile bright. Max and I are supposed to go out with them tonight after the opening, but Lizzy’s here in a red dress that shows off her long legs and skinny arms, and all I can think about is how inadequate I am.

I’m about to smack myself.

I beeline for the bar and hand a ten to the bartender. “Your biggest glass of your sweetest red, please.”

The bartender’s eyes drop to my cleavage for a minute, and I actually smile. I forget how much men like tits. I forget that some men like tits enough to overlook everything else. And maybe I should be offended by this stranger’s not-so-subtle appreciation of mine, but politically correct or not, knowing that he’s looking seriously lifts my spirits.

I take a long pull off the wine and lean on the bar as I scan the room for Max.

“Waiting for your date?” the bartender asks. He’s cute. Probably a student at Sinclair like me. He’s got that disheveled surfer-boy look going on, even in his white button-up shirt and dress pants.

I take another healthy swallow. Wine goes a long way to make me forget my insecurities, and if I don’t want to be
that girl,
I’m gonna need a vat of it tonight. “I am,” I say with a sigh. “But last time I saw him, he was checking out my twin.”

The surfer boy coughs and pulls at the neck of his dress shirt. He’s so obviously uncomfortable in it, I almost feel bad for him. As if giving up, he unbuttons the top button. His eyes dip to my cleavage again, but he pulls them back up so fast it doesn’t feel smarmy, just flattering and adorable.

“You have a twin?”

I roll my eyes. Boys and their twin fantasies. Seriously. “Yes, but we’re not identical.”
Not by a long shot.

God, if Max had known I was behind him, he never would have checked out Lizzy like that. He’s not an asshole or anything. He’s just a normal guy. And like any normal guy, he wants to fuck my twin more than he’ll ever want to fuck me.

Three dates and he hasn’t kissed me. Sure, he’s held my hand, hugged me, kissed my cheek. But in three dates, his lips haven’t touched mine. That wouldn’t be the case if he’d had those three dates with Liz.

“Gah!” I growl. There may not be enough wine or cute-surfer-boy-tit-gawking to ever obliterate this mood.

The surfer boy’s brows shoot up. “What?”

“I’m instituting my own drinking game.” I prop both elbows on the counter and lean forward, grinning at my own clever idea. “Every time I feel sorry for myself because my date secretly has the hots for my sister, I’m taking a drink.”

He shifts behind the counter and refills my wine without me asking. “Can I ask you a question?”

Max appears on the other side of the room and pulls William into one of those male-certified one-armed hugs. They’re such a handsome duo—Will with his crazy blond curls, Max with his dark mop, both sporting bodies that belong in men’s fitness magazines. Max looks amazing tonight in his pressed slacks and dark blue oxford. Flipping gorgeous and way out of my league.
Drink.
“Ask away,” I say behind my wine glass.

“If he’s into your sister, why are you with him? Why not be into a guy who’s into
you
?”

Because guys aren't into me.
Oh, shit. There I go again.
Drink.

“I mean, if
I
were your boyfriend, for example, I wouldn’t care what your sister looks like. Look at you.”

I blink at him. Then it occurs to me that the wine is going to my brain. This guy is probably just trying to make me feel better.
Drink.
“I fell for Max when I was thirteen,” I confess. “He smiled at me and I…” I take another drink. Really, if I’m going to tell him the story, he should save us both the trouble and hand me the bottle.

“Well, if you decide you want a date who’s only interested in you…” He walks around the bar and takes the phone from my fingers to tap on the screen.

I have to smile at him. It’s been a long time since someone has gone this much out of his way to make me feel better. “You’re really sweet, you know that?”

This time when his eyes drop to my breasts, they slide right down on past to my hips and then linger. “For those curves, I’ll be whatever you want me to be.”

“Who’s this?”

I jump at the sound of Max’s voice then back a step away from surfer boy, as if I’ve just been caught doing something wrong. “Oh, this is Max, my date,” I tell the bartender. I widen my eyes and hope he can see the desperate
Please don't tell him what we were talking about
message in my eyes. “Max, this is the bartender, um…”

“Jimmy,” the surfer boy replies. He’s not bothered in the slightest by Max’s presence. He winks at me like we have some sexy secret.

Max takes my hand and squeezes my fingers. “Will you come with me, please?”

I stop trying to figure out Jimmy’s odd interest with me and look up at Max. “Sure.”

He leads me through the gallery, nearly dragging me along behind his long strides. He takes the stairs two at a time to the loft, where there’s a kitchenette and reception area.

When he finally stops and turns to me, I frown. “What’s going on?”

“Let me take that.” He takes the wine from my hand and sets it on the counter.

“Why?”

“Because I want your hands to be free when I do this.”

And that’s when it happens. He slides his hands into my hair and sweeps his lips over mine. But this is different than the chaste kisses we’ve shared before now. This is a hot
sweep, sweep, linger
that promises more. His thumb grazes the line of my jaw, and I open instinctively under him until he’s kissing me full-on, his tongue against mine, his lips patient then coaxing, his fingers brushing up my neck and into my hair.

I’ve waited for this kiss since I was old enough to think kisses from boys were something worth wanting. I’ve waited for Max since I realized
boys
were worth wanting. And here he is. Kissing me as if he’s craved me as long as I’ve craved him.

Slowly, he leaves my mouth and trails sweet kisses along my jaw and down my neck until his mouth opens against that tender skin at the crook of my neck. His hot tongue sweeps over it.

I close my eyes and try to catch my breath. But it’s hard when he’s this close and his mouth and teeth and tongue are doing things to my neck that feel so good my brain is imagining them everywhere else. Imagining them places I’ve never felt a man’s tongue.

When he lifts his head, his blue eyes have gone smoky.

“What was that for?” I whisper.

“I think William’s bartender was trying to steal away my date.”

A puff of air slips between my lips. “He was just trying to cheer me up.”

“Why did you need cheering up?”

I shrug. “I’m just in a mood.” Or
was
in a mood. Clearly Max’s kisses are a much more effective remedy than wine.

He skims his thumb over my bottom lip. “You look beautiful tonight.”

“I do?”

Grinning, he tugs me toward the stairs. “Come on. I want to kiss you in front of that bartender.”

Present Day

Mom, Granny, and I have been looking at wedding venues, and this is our last stop. I’ve been tense all morning, but the moment I stepped into the gallery, I remembered Max kissing me for the first time. The memory drained the tension from me like someone turned a release valve in my muscles.

I’ve always loved this place. William’s gallery, the smile on Maggie’s face when she works with art, the way the sun shines through the wall of windows at the back and reflects off the stained-glass art hanging from the ceiling. And best of all is the memory of that kiss.

“Hey, girlie. How are you doing?” Maggie asks as I step into the gallery. She’s looking especially gorgeous today in a loose-fitting black tank, dark jeans, and strappy sandals.

“I’m good.” I force myself to be positive.

Across the street, Max is standing outside the health club, chatting with a gorgeous, leggy blonde. The old Hanna would have felt twelve kinds of inferior to a girl like that. The old Hanna wouldn’t have believed a guy like Max would want a girl like her. Too bad the old Hanna’s mind is stuck in the new Hanna’s body.

I shift uncomfortably as the girl leans in flirtatiously and presses her hand against Max’s chest. I’ve never had the confidence to be a flirt, but that doesn’t mean I don’t recognize when someone is putting the moves on my man. Who is she? Some sorority girl he’s training? Does he like her?

Max carefully removes her hand from his chest and takes a half-step back.

Next to me, Maggie follows my gaze and snorts. “Don’t even worry about it, Han-Han. That boy only has eyes for you.”

Mom paces a circle in front of us and frowns. “I’m just not convinced the gallery really gives you enough room for many guests. It would make for a gorgeous, intimate wedding, though, that’s for sure.”

“I didn’t even know Will let people have weddings here,” I whisper to Maggie. “I mean, I don’t remember if I did know.”

“We just started it maybe six months ago,” Maggie says. “It works really well. The bride generally comes down the stairs instead of having a traditional aisle, and we have white chairs in storage we can set up here in the lobby for your guests.”

“Sounds beautiful.”

“It is.” Maggie raises a brow. “Have you actually set a date?”

“No, but Mom’s pushing me to.”

“Nothing pleases that woman more than seeing her daughters marrying good men,” Maggie grumbles. “I swear, if she keeps pushing Asher, I’m going to lose my shit.”

“So no ring for you yet?” I ask.

Her shoulders tense. “Asher dropped some hints a couple of months back, and I freaked out. I think I scared him, and God knows if he’ll ever ask now.”

“I’m sure he just wants to make sure you’re ready.”

She shrugs and waves away the subject. After Maggie’s history, I can imagine talk of weddings would panic her a little. I cut my eyes to Max. Only he’s not outside anymore, and before I see where he’s gone, the bell over the door chimes.

“Hey, Max!” Maggie calls.

From the door, Max grins and runs his eyes over me appreciatively. They’re this gorgeous blue that made me weak in the knees back when he didn’t notice me, but having them aimed at me like that nearly melts me to the floor.

“Max!” Mom calls, hurrying over to him. “You got my message. I’m so glad you could come over.”

The way he just looked at me has my heart pounding triple-time in my chest. Or is that anxiety over what we found on my computer this morning, fear that I’ve screwed up a good thing?

Max escapes Mom’s grasp and then he’s spinning me around and grinning at me.

“Pardon me for a moment,” he tells Maggie. “I need to kiss my fiancée.” He presses his mouth to mine in a kiss that’s sweet and tender and sizzles all the way down to my toes. Before I can kiss him back, he’s pulling away.

“Hello there,” I whisper.

His eyes have gone smoky. He brushes my hair off my shoulders. “I didn’t know we were looking at wedding venues.”

I settle my hands on his shoulders awkwardly, not sure what else to do with them. After last night, it’s funny that I would feel unsure about touching him, but it’s not natural to me yet. In my mind, Max is still more
crush
than
fiancé.

“Mom insisted.” I watch him carefully. “Does that make you uncomfortable?”

“We aren’t in any rush.” He smiles. “Well,
you
aren’t. Personally, the sooner I have you sleeping in my bed, the better. Speaking of which, how’d you sleep?” His voice drops, low and husky. He may not have Nate’s river-bottom bass, but sweet Jesus, Max does husky well.

“Okay.” I force a smile. After he dropped me off at home last night, my conscience kept me up tossing and turning, and my four-thirty alarm came too soon. “What about you?”

He presses a kiss to the crook of my neck. “I would have slept better with you in my arms, but I managed okay.” He inhales audibly. “God, you smell so good. What are you wearing?”

That makes me smile. “I think you’re smelling sugar cookies and cinnamon muffins. Lizzy and I did a little baking this morning. Making you hungry?”

“Hmm. I’m hungry, all right.” He snakes a hand under my shirt and brushes my navel with his thumb, and my mind flashes on the image from the gossip site—me pressed against the side of the building, Nate’s hand creeping up my skirt.

I try not to tense. God. This is ridiculous. How can I feel so guilty when I don’t even know if I’ve done anything wrong?
Right. Because there’s an innocent explanation to all of this.

“Mom’s having girls’ night at her house tonight. She wants to talk wedding plans.”

“You should.” He pulls his hand from my shirt and smooths the fabric back in place, but his expression is unreadable. “You’ve been working too hard lately. Not spending enough time with your sisters.”

So I’m told.
Why didn’t he encourage me to spend more time with them back before the accident, when I was alienating Liz? Then again, I’ve probably been busy with the business and all the exercising. Not to mention a very serious boyfriend and a hottie on the side.