Spooning Daisy (19 page)

“Look, Max, I love my husband,” Inga said. “But he’s thirty years older. Howard and I have an understanding. Which obviously you and your wife do not.”

“She’s not my wife.”

“Wife or not, you don’t want her to know about me—”

That was true. But why did it matter? There were no promises, nothing to imply a future. In fact, Daisy had said straight out that he was free to make any side deals with
whomever
he wanted. But that was
before . . .

“—so if you want to keep this secret, take her to bed and do what you do so well until she forgets every suspicion. If you feel like confessing, find a priest.”

Max smirked.
Nothing says love like lying
. “Advice for advice?”

Inga shrugged.

“I’ve seen the way Howard looks at you. This sex-on-the-side? It’s not harmless.”

Inga pulled back. “You’re one to talk.”

“Actually, I am.”

Daisy nursed her second snifter of Grand Marnier. Should she confront Max with her suspicions . . . or turn a blind eye, as she’d done with Jason?

Of course, this situation was different. She and Max had no commitment, no promises,
no future
. They barely knew each other. It was premature to start making demands on him, let alone ultimatums. Considering she would never see him again after she got to Otter Bite, why was she entertaining this dilemma?

It was ludicrous, this idea of fidelity among strangers. And she, Daisy Mae Moon, would have no part of it. Max Kendall could do whatever he wanted and
whomever
he wanted, as long as she didn’t know about it.

Daisy drained the last sweet puddle of liqueur, used a meal voucher for her dinner and paid cash for Max’s, meandered out of the dining room, and ran smack dab into Deputy SO Keller.

Max closed his book for the fourth time.
Where the hell is Daisy
?

He checked his watch against the nightstand clock—did that belong to Daisy? He refocused. Forty minutes was plenty of time to pay the check and be back at the cabin. So where was she?

His knee throbbed—like a steel drum. Easing out of bed, he retrieved a bottle of painkillers from his shaving kit, took one capsule, then washed it down with a palm of water from the bathroom faucet. He returned to the bed and his book, although the words on the page didn’t register.

This was so unlike him . . . and he didn’t like it. Of course, he could’ve just confessed his dalliance to Daisy. But then he wouldn’t be lying in this bed. After an unfaithful fiancé, Daisy wouldn’t be inclined toward forgiveness. Inga was right about confessions, even though this situation was clearly not the same as with Jason. Max and Daisy had no commitment, no words of love between them. They barely knew each other.

Still . . .

Maybe it was time for a stroll around the ship.

He rushed on the same clothes he’d taken off forty minutes ago. A few steps later he turned the doorknob and—

“Mr. Kendall?”

—jerked back.

Purser Smith glanced at the numbers on the door, confirming she was at Daisy’s cabin, then looked again at Max . . . and smiled. “I guess you don’t need that other cabin.”

Chapter Seventeen

H
ow sweet
, Daisy thought, of sleeping Max. The soft light from the bedside lamp stole gently across his face and bare chest. A Louis L’Amour western had fallen to the side, atop the sheet draping his abdomen and legs. Even the sudden rattle of a lone snore and the shadow along his cheeks didn’t alter her perception—undoubtedly clouded by the two snifters of Grand Marnier followed by the two drinks she’d had with Deputy Security Officer Keller, now known to her as Steve. Their chance collision had been serendipitous right when Daisy was feeling inadequate. But Steve had buoyed her spirits, plying her with compliments about her determination, tenacity, and pluck. Which any woman in competition with a curvy blonde really wanted to hear. Oh well. If she couldn’t be beautiful, blond, and buxom, at least she was determined, tenacious, and plucky.
And
a good speller with a great vocabulary. Let’s not forget that. In fact, Daisy could probably out-spell Max’s blonde
sinistrodextral
and
dextrosinistral
.

Yep
,
good spelling and big words always keep ’em coming back.

But, in fact, whatever Max may have done this afternoon, he
was
back.

Daisy stared as if seeing Max for the first time, resisting the urge to smooth the dark hairs from his forehead and touch his scarred temple. The way she was feeling, it was better not to wake him. Better if he stayed on his side of the cabin and she on hers. Better if she put her heart in its holster and backed away slowly before anyone got hurt.

Ever so delicately, she lifted the book from beside his hip, holding her breath when Max briefly stirred. Then she set the paperback on the nightstand beside his wallet—
wallet?
—before switching off the bedside lamp. Only light slivers from behind the partially closed bathroom door intruded on the darkness. She turned toward the light.

“Hey,” came the groggy voice. “Where y’ been?”

“I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“Come sit.”

“I was just going to get ready for bed.”

“I took a pill. For my knee,” Max mumbled, as if he understood her reluctance. “I’m harmless.”

Daisy doubted Max would ever be harmless—especially in the dim light with his hair appealingly mussed and his torso invitingly naked—but she sat down on the bed anyway because she wanted to.

“What time is it?” he asked, sounding more coherent.

“About ten.”

“Ten? Where’ve you been?”

“I ran into Steve Keller.”

“Who?”

“Y’ know, one of the security officers.”

“Oh,” Max answered, as if he wasn’t really sure. He sat up and stuffed a pillow behind his back.

“I had drinks with him.”

“Really?” Max suddenly seemed very awake. “Why?”

Daisy eased back at what sounded like, not jealousy, but disapproval. “Why not? He’s nice. He’s not married. He’s cute. And he asked me.”
And you were escorting the breakfast blonde out the door
, Daisy thought, but decided not to play that card
.

“Isn’t he a little old for you?”

“That’s Stone. I had drinks with Keller.”

“Isn’t he a little young?”

“He’s thirty-one. It’s hardly a May-December romance. And it was only drinks. Why are you picking on me?”

“Did it ever occur to you that I might be worried about you?”

“No, actually, it didn’t.”

“Well, I was. And I didn’t like it.”

“Really.”

Daisy sounded unimpressed. Max leaned forward. “Am I missing something here?”

One Mississippi, two Mississippi.
“Where’d you find your wallet?”

“Uh . . . over there,” he said ambiguously. “You were right. It fell out of my pants pocket.”

“Lucky you found it. It’s awful to lose important things.”

After a few moments of uncertain silence, Daisy started to rise.

Max grabbed her wrist. “What’s wrong?”

“What could be wrong?” She pulled from his grip.

“I don’t know, but I’m pretty good at sensing these things.” Sarcastically said.

“I’m just tired—”

“Then come to bed.”

“I can’t sleep in those sheets.”

“You can sleep on top of me.”

“Where thousands have been before . . . ?”

“Not
thousands.
”

Even in the dim light, Daisy saw his playful, cocksure grin.

“And you were there this morning and you didn’t seem to mind.”

“I
did
mind,” Daisy said. “But apparently not as much as you.”

“What’re you talking about?”

“You fled the cabin like it was on fire. Doesn’t really inspire confidence for an encore.”

Without apology, Max said, “That’s because
we
were unexpected;
you
were unexpected. But now I know what to expect.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not sure
I
know what to expect.”

“Meaning?”

“I don’t like being juggled.”

His brows lifted. “
Juggled?
”

“You know what I mean.”

They held each other’s gaze for a silent moment, the light from the bathroom casting alluring shadows, then Max said, “Look, Daisy, this thing happening between us, well, it’s a little nutty if you ask me, and certainly nothing I would’ve planned.” When Daisy looked pained, he hastened to add, “but I’m up to my neck in it now and
juggling
is not my intention.”

“
Up to your neck in it?
Wow. Be still my heart.”

“Hey,” he said, his tone edged with anger, “I’m not making a bunch of poetic promises I won’t keep. I don’t know what’s happening tomorrow. I sure as hell never saw
this
coming. Did you?”

He had her on that one. Never in her wildest dreams had she expected this conversation, let alone the reason for it.

Max leaned closer. His voice was soft and seductively sincere. “Moments like this don’t come around all that often. Don’t throw it away because you’re afraid it won’t come again.”

Her heart pounded; Daisy was sure Max could hear it. Should she mention the blonde? She didn’t want lies, yet she feared the truth. Although neither would change what she really wanted
at this moment
that didn’t come around all that often. But could she actually live in the moment, without any thoughts beyond?

She leaned toward him, breathing in the great outdoors—the cedar, the wood smoke, the musk—drawing her in, crumbling her resolve.

Max lifted her chin with his fingers. “
Permettez-moi de vous aider à se déshabiller
.”

Daisy twitched back. “You . . . speak French . . . ?”

“In a dozen different ways.”

His words alone caused a spasm. Daisy gave up the air in her lungs and seemed unable to find more. Her eyelids dropped, her lips parted. Her accusation was on the tip of her tongue . . .

I saw you with the blonde.

But the words never made it past her lips, which were otherwise engaged with Max’s mouth.

“Midori and rum,” Max noted, after a long, lusty kiss. “Remind me to thank Keller.”

With ease—and as Max had promised—he relieved Daisy of her clothes, and soon he had her between the sheets, pinned beneath him, their lips rhythmically coupled, locked in a moment Daisy thought for sure she could live in forever . . .

His good knee parted her thighs.

. . . Except, of course, she couldn’t . . .

His fingers milked one nipple.

. . . Because none of it was real . . .

Her pelvis reached for him.

. . . It was all an illusion . . .

He teasingly pulled away.

. . .
Max Kendall
was an illusion . . .

She struggled against his retreat, gripping his back, feverishly seeking consummation, her emptiness screaming for him.

. . . And he would disappear like a magician’s rabbit . . .

He slowly rocked against her until the sensation very nearly drove her insane.

. . . But before he vanished, Daisy Moon was getting hers. In French. “
Maintenant. MAINTENANT.
MAINTENANT
!
”

“
Mmmm, bébé, restez calme
,” Max murmured against her lips. “
Ce n’est pas un sport de sang. Vos ongles
. . .”

Her eyes fluttered open. Oblivious to the intensity of her grip and the bite of her fingernails, she now forced their release as Max had asked. “
Désolé
.”

He looked into her face and smiled. “This go-around we’re doing it the old-fashioned way. One . . . slow . . . inch . . . at a time.”

That
she didn’t need in French. Or English. Or words. She only needed what Max promised for this one moment. “Shut up and do it.”

And he did.

And he did.

And he did.

And he did.

And he did.

And he did.

And . . . he . . . did.

Chapter Eighteen

“Y
ou lied.”

“Probably,” Max muttered, his eyes closed. He lightly stroked Daisy’s naked back as she cuddled up against him. “Be more specific.”

Daisy gently burrowed her fingers beneath the silky hairs on Max’s chest, lifted and burrowed again. “You said you were harmless.”

He sighed, long and heavy.

Daisy lazily breathed in the rugged scent of him layered with her own soft scent, and basked in the thousands of pheromones sprinkling the air like fairy dust.

Max affectionately pressed her to him and in a low, sexy, sleepy growl, said, “You wouldn’t want me if I were
really
harmless.”

Daisy stopped her burrowing and scrunched her brows. Mulling that over. She lifted her head. “That’s not completely true.”

Max groaned. “Can we debate this tomorrow?”

“It is tomorrow.”

“No, it’s today.”

“But today is tomorrow.”

Max opened his eyes and dipped his chin toward Daisy. Light from the bathroom metamorphosed the darkness into a dreamy ambience. “Babe—”

Her insides flip-flopped. No one had ever called her
babe
. Never mind that Max undoubtedly called every woman babe. Probably ’cause he couldn’t remember names. She still liked it. A lot.

“—I’m really tired and my knee is killing me.”

“I thought you took pills.”

“One pill. It wore off.”

“Tell me where they are.” Daisy started to rise. “And you can take a couple more.”

“I don’t need them.” Max pulled her back. “I’ll be fine.”

“There’s no reason for you to be in pain.”

“They really knock me out. Just stay here and I’ll fall asleep soon enough.”

Daisy tried to get comfortable beside him, but couldn’t quite. After a few minutes, she said, “The thing is . . . I can’t sleep in these sheets.”