Silver Dreams (41 page)

He cleared his throat and assumed a business-like tone in his voice. "Your writing shows great sensitivity and a good eye for detail. You've noted things here that would never have occurred to me." He shrugged his shoulders and pressed his lips together in a thin line resembling a grin. "That challenge you gave me on the train from New York...it looks like it's going to be a fairly equal contest after all."

She smiled at him. "Max, the package was wrapped in a ribbon. Doesn't that mean anything to you?"

His eyes widened, but not with recognition. He picked up the end of the ribbon dangling from the table, held it between his thumb and finger, and studied its satiny texture. "It does seem an odd way of showing your work to me," he said.

"Max, hasn’t anyone ever given you a gift?"

He thought about this much too long, and her heart ached for him. "Well, sure," he finally said. "But hardly ever wrapped up. Is that what you're doing...giving me your articles?"

She nodded.

"But why?"

"Isn't it obvious? You're a reporter, Max. Can't you draw a logical conclusion? Or in this case, take the blatant facts and draw the only conclusion possible?"

He dropped the ribbon, folded his arms across his chest and leaned against the table. He had that look of mischief in his eyes that she’d grown to love.

"I get it," he said. "You're bucking for a job with the
Gazette
. You've decided you want to work for a real newspaper, not that sissy
Courier News
."  Raising a finger to his lower lip, he added, "I don't know, Bets. It takes a lot more than sensitivity and keen observation to work for an outfit like the
Gazette
."

He really wasn’t getting her point at all. "Max, you thick-headed..." No, don't do it Elizabeth. Make him understand. She breathed deeply. "It's a present, a gift, don't you see? It's from my heart, from my very soul. I've poured hours of emotion and turmoil into those pages, and I'm offering them to you as an apology. I sprinkled lemon verbena on it, and I’m afraid you’ve missed the symbolism entirely. I’m trying to heal the wounds I caused, to make up for the things I said in anger."

There, she'd said it all. She let out a long breath and waited for his reaction.

He continued to stare at her, his arms still folded infuriatingly across his rigid chest. His eyes revealed nothing, but the cocky angle of his head seemed to poke fun at her heartfelt revelations. Either he didn't appreciate how difficult that confession had been for her, or he had no intention of accepting her apology.

"Blast you, Max! You could use a little sensitivity yourself. This isn't easy, you know."

He looked down at the floor, and a low, sputtering sound came from his mouth. When he raised his head, his eyes sparkled with humor. A wide grin spread across his face. He lifted his hands palms up at his sides. "Apology accepted," he said.

She felt an answering grin tug at her own mouth and was determined that he not see it. He’d been teasing her all along. She looked at a window and thrust out her chin. "I'm not so sure I want to give it now," she said. "I'm not at all certain you deserve it."

He came to her and put one hand on her arm. The other rested against his heart. "Too late. Whether I deserve it or not, I've already tucked it in here."

He put his hands on each side of her face and brought her gaze to lock with his. "You're impossible, you know that?"

"So are you."

"You're stubborn and opinionated."

"So are you."

“And I’m about to say something I could regret for the rest of my life.”

She sighed, implored him with her eyes as if he were a youngster who needed her guidance. “Take a chance, Max, on something other than crap games and danger. Take a
real
chance.”

He rubbed his chin for a moment, thinking. "Okay, here’s the thing, Betsy. I’m pretty sure I like you. A lot.”

She threw her arms around his neck. "Oh, Max, I love you, too."

“Whoa, Bets, I didn’t say...”

“Shut up, Max.”

“That’s probably a good idea.”

She closed her eyes as his mouth descended to hers. Then she melted, from the inside out. From the pit of her stomach to the ends of her nerves, a slow building heat flowed through her like warm honey.

His mouth moved over hers, sweetly insistent. She parted her lips and his tongue plunged inside, swept over her teeth and probed the tingling insides of her cheeks, bringing her blissfully, completely alive.

He drew away from her, and she slowly opened her eyes to see him smiling down at her. His gaze roamed over her face. He moved his thumb across her lips, removing the moisture left from his kiss. "Do you think we can be happy together?" he asked.

"I’m sure of it," she said. "Our life won't be dull."

He chuckled. "No, it won't be that. About your gift...it's wonderful, but I'd prefer it if we share our articles. It's a test, actually. If we can do that, I think sharing our lives will be relatively easy."

"You're probably right."

"So, when we get back to New York... when I’ve met your father...” He pressed his hands together in the sign of prayer. “May the saints be with me..."

“What Max? What happens after you’ve met my father?”

“Assuming I’m still drawing breaths, I should probably ask him if I can marry you.”

Did they have earthquakes in Colorado? Elizabeth suddenly felt like she was smack in the middle of one. Max caught her under her arms and drew her to his chest. “Are you okay, darlin’?" he asked.

"Yes."

"Well good. I wouldn’t want you fainting dead away on me."

"No, Max. I meant yes, I’ll marry you, even if you didn’t properly ask."

He rested his chin on the top of her head. "You're the best thing that ever happened to me, Miss Elizabeth Sheridan," he whispered. "When your carriage appeared out of nowhere on Seventh Avenue that night, you did more than help me get away.”

His chest felt so good against her cheek. She nestled into his arms. “What else did I do, Max?”

“You turned my world upside down, Betsy. And then you righted it again and made me see that it had never really been right in the first place.”

She looked up at him and put her hands on the back of his head. Drawing his mouth to hers, she kissed him deeply, experiencing for the first time in her life total, delicious happiness. She trailed her fingers over his shoulders to the front of his shirt and began unfastening the buttons. After each button she caressed his chest and planted kisses on the corners of his mouth, his cheeks, his jaw. When she pulled the tail of his shirt from his trousers, he drew in a quick sharp breath.

He pulled her to him, fitting her soft contours against his solid ones. His mouth was hungry, demanding. His hands moved over her hair and down her back to grip her bottom and bring her even closer. His erection bulged against her stomach. When at last he pulled his mouth from hers, he breathed into her ear. "We're starting something that won’t be easy to stop, Betsy."

"Do you want to stop, Max? Because I don’t."

He lifted her and carried her to the bed. When he lay her down, he splayed his hands on each side of her body and kissed her again. Then he quickly worked at the remaining fastenings of his clothes.

Darkness had descended over the town. Only the soft glow from the lantern on the table illuminated the room, but it was enough for Elizabeth to see the magnificence of her Max. His strength, his scars, his beauty. When he stood naked beside the bed she said, “I like looking at you, Max.”

He began working on the little hooks that fastened her dress. "You do, eh?" he said teasingly. "Then my dearest one, you are truly hopelessly, blindly smitten." He leaned over and nuzzled her neck playfully while he loosened her bodice. Then he slid her sleeves over her shoulders and raised her from the pillow. The dress fell away to her waist.

He slipped the garment over her hips. His fingers, roughened by the hard labor of the last week, were calloused. His touch was sweetly punishing, like sandpaper on velvet, delicately prickling her skin, making her senses come alive. His palm caressed her calves, moved to her inner thighs. A mysterious yearning pulsed between her legs.

All that remained was her cotton chemise, and he took his time removing it. He looped his fingers over the lace covering her chest, and his knuckles rubbed her breast. When his mouth wandered up her throat to capture her lips in another provocative kiss, his hand slipped inside to cup the rounded swell that hungered for his touch. He massaged her nipple between his thumb and finger, bringing it to an aching peak.

A small whimper escaped her mouth, and he fed it with more needy kisses. Pleasure coursed through her, leaving her breathless. His hand moved to her stomach and slipped around her hip, finding the hem of her chemise. When his fingers stole inside to find the soft flesh of her bottom, her back arched up to him. She wrapped her arms around his neck and brought him down on top of her, meeting every inch of his body to every inch of hers.

He leaned up on one elbow and pulled the narrow ribbon that held the top of her undergarment. With gentle coaxing, he slipped the straps down her arms. When the last vestige of clothing was gone, he looked down on her, his eyes like blue-gray steel in the lamplight. "I kind of like looking at you, too, darlin’," he said, and took her for another wildly tantalizing kiss that moved down her throat and ended at her breasts.

A need strong and powerful clawed at her insides. A need she did not yet understand but one that she knew instinctively could not be quenched until he'd fulfilled it. His fingers reached between her legs and found the hungriest part of her.

Slowly, expertly he made her ready. And then he straddled her, his erection throbbing against her pelvis. He kissed her gently, and she sensed his effort to hold a rein on his passion. "This is going to hurt," he said. "I wish to God it wouldn't, but the first time..."

"You talk too much, Max," she mumbled, aware on some level that the intensity in her voice matched the urgency in her body.

She heard a breathy gasp and he was inside her. A quick, sharp pain burned and subsided as Max began to move. He thrust slowly at first until she felt herself surround him like hot silk. Waves of pure pleasure radiated from the warm yearning core between her legs and spread throughout her body. It brought her higher and higher until she reached the mountain top of her longing and breathed his name.

Max moaned and shuddered and clutched her to him. When at last he withdrew and looked into her eyes, he was smiling. His forehead glistened with sweat, his hair hung nearly to his eyes in delicious curls that wanted cutting. He was purely, magnificently male. Through a raspy voice, he said, "My dearest Betsy, you have a rare talent for humbling a man with the most remarkable gifts."