“We can just wait a bit.”
He drew back and a gasp slipped from his throat.
“What?”
“I understand. It happens. Things were pretty in tense there.”
“You think I…” His voice trailed off and then he laughed. “No, I’m fine. Everything is still fully…functional.”
“Then why did you stop?”
“Because I’m really not sure we should be doing this, Angela. In fact, I’m positive we shouldn’t be doing this. Not yet. Not that I don’t really, really want to do this. Believe me, I do. But, I think if we both take a step back and-”
Angela quickly unwound her legs from his waist and dropped to her feet. As her body slid against his, she noticed that the bulge in his shorts wasn’t subsiding. Oh, God. She’d just assumed he’d- “Right,” she said, nodding frantically. “You’re absolutely right. I mean, we’ve just met. And I understand you probably have women coming on to you all the time. It must be so-”
“No!” Max said, reaching out to touch her face.
“It’s not that. Believe me.” He drew a deep breath, then let it out slowly. “I’m just going to get the rest of our clothes. Then we can-talk. We’ll talk. And eat.”
As he strode toward the living room, Angela braced herself against the wall, holding her arms over her breasts. What was going on? Didn’t he want her?
Wasn’t she attractive enough for him to take to bed?
This was not the behavior of a smooth operator.
First Alex Stamos, then Charlie Templeton and now, Max Morgan. Why couldn’t these men behave the way they were supposed to? What was happening to the world as she knew it? Every assumption she’d made about these seducers was being shattered.
And now, Max Morgan was acting all upright and honorable.
When he returned, Max was wearing his T-shirt again. He helped her into the sweatshirt, then took her hand and led her back to the sofa. He sat down next to her, then grabbed her hands and kissed the tips of her fingers.
“I had a really nice time tonight,” he said. “I want to see you again. And I don’t want to mess anything up by sleeping together just a few hours after we met.”
“Is that really why you stopped,” Angela asked. “Or is that just the story you think I’ll buy until you can get me out of your apartment?”
“I don’t know how much you know about me, or my rather formidable reputation with the ladies. But most of it is greatly exaggerated by the press.” He paused. “Well, some of it is true, but a lot isn’t.”
“So, when you bring a woman home, you usually sleep with her?”
He drew in a sharp breath, then nodded.
“Usually.”
“Why not me?” Angela asked, desperate to know the answer.
“Because you’re someone I’d like to know better.
That is, if you want to get to know me.”
She searched his eyes for the truth in his words, but Angela didn’t know him well enough to guess at what was really beneath his reluctance. No man, not even the most well-intentioned red-blooded male, would turn down the chance at sex. There had to be something more to this.
She forced a smile, then quickly stood. “I-I have to get up early for work tomorrow. I should really get home.”
“You’re not hungry?”
“No.”
Max cupped her face with his hand, his forehead meeting hers. Then he kissed her, the contact soft and fleeting. “All right. I’ll take you back to your car.”
“No,” Angela said. “I can get a cab.”
“I’ll take you,” Max insisted, his tone firm, yet betraying a hint of irritation.
“I’ll just get my things.” She stepped around him and walked back to the bathroom. When she got inside, she closed the door behind her. Angela caught sight of herself in the wide mirror that hung on the wall above the sinks. She leaned closer to examine her face.
She was still flushed, her cheeks pink and her lips red and puffy. Her hair, though mussed, didn’t look that bad. Objectively, she should have been pretty enough to tempt Max into sex.
Angela fought back a wave of anger. She knew exactly what kind of man Max Morgan was and she’d allowed herself to get carried away by his charm. It was all there in black-and-white on her Web site. What made her think that he’d be any different with her?
This was all Ceci’s fault, all of her talk about “moments” and “hope springing eternal.” Max was exactly what she knew him to be-a smooth operator. Of course, he wouldn’t want a woman like her. He never noticed the girl she’d been, so why would he even consider the woman she’d become?
She wouldn’t get her fantasy night with Max Morgan after all. Tomorrow, she’d wait for his call and it wouldn’t come. And in a few weeks, she’d find out he was dating another woman-a model or an actress, someone more befitting his status in the celebrity world.
He was everything she knew him to be-a rogue, a cad, a seducer and the shallowest man she’d ever met. But she would get one thing she wanted from this night-an end to all of her silly fantasies. She’d never have to think of him again and wonder what may have been. Though they might have shared a moment, it was the moment.
Angela pulled off his clothes and slipped into her own underwear and dress. She winced at the cold, damp fabric against her skin, the sand still caught in the seams and folds. The sooner this night was over, the better.
3
MAX GLANCED OVER AT Angela, her profile outlined by the lights from the street. They’d made a quick exit from his place and an uneasy silence had enveloped them. He wasn’t quite sure how to read her expression. At first glance, she seemed unbothered by what had happened between them. But experience had taught him that how a woman acted and how she really felt could be two completely different things.
The night had been so promising, but it was ending on a sour note. Maybe he should have taken her to bed. She seemed almost insulted that he hadn’t. But for the first time in his life, Max had looked past his urges and put aside his need for release. He wanted a good life after baseball and a woman to share it with. Seducing every woman who caught his eye wasn’t getting him there. So maybe it was time to try a different approach.
It was his mistake. He shouldn’t have started what he didn’t want to finish. They should have kept their clothes on, sipped their wine and eaten a little mac and cheese. He would have driven her back, they would have kissed good-night and he could have looked forward to a second date. Now, he wasn’t even sure he ought to try to kiss her again.
Max glanced over to see Angela rub her bare arms and he reached for the air conditioner. “Are you cold?” he asked.
“No,” she said.
“You’re rubbing your arms.”
She forced a smile. “I’m fine.”
With a muttered curse, he shut off the air conditioner and rolled down the windows, letting the warm night breeze flow through the car. Was this what he deserved for trying to be a gentleman? That’s what women were supposed to want, right? A guy who wasn’t focused on getting into their pants? It wasn’t just supposed to be about sex. There was trust and friendship, too.
He’d wanted to explain his reasoning to her, but Max suspected he’d only make things worse. So, for now, he’d just stay quiet, get her number before he dropped her off, and they would start fresh on their next date.
As they neared the parking ramp, he began to worry that she might not give him her number at all. He pulled into the ramp and grabbed the ticket, then turned to her. “Where are you parked?” he asked.
“Level 3B,” she said. “It’s a blue Volkswagen Jetta.”
Max carefully steered up the spiral ramp and exited on the third level, then squinted in the low light, looking for her car.
“It’s right there,” she said, pointing to the left.
Max took an empty spot nearby, then turned off the BMW. She made to get out of the car, but he reached out and took her arm. “Hang on.” He grabbed his cell phone from the center console. “I don’t have your number.”