“Damn, Max, you should have been a girl. That’s totally bitchy.”
He picked up one of her hands and kissed the palm, sending more shivers of heat through her. “And then tomorrow we finish moving the rest of your stuff in.”
Emma had given in on moving in with him just the night before. She hadn’t been to her apartment since the night Max bit her, other than to pick up a few changes of clothing, her toiletries, her full-length mirror that she refused to live without, and her makeup. Her red PT Cruiser had finally made its way to his garage last night, too, and was now nestled next to Max’s Durango. He’d frowned darkly over the fact that it was a convertible, muttering something about knives and maniacs, but he’d just have to learn to live with it. Emma loved her car, and her car loved her.
“I’ll make you a deal.” He’d never go for it, and then she’d get to change costumes. A win-win situation, as far as she was concerned.
“Shoot.”
“I’ll wear the costume if we take my car to the party.”
“Done.” Emma’s jaw dropped. He hated her car. He’d made it clear he absolutely hated it, but he hadn’t even hesitated. He stood, reached out with a finger and shut her mouth. “You’re going to be late for work, sweetheart.”
“Oh shit!” Emma looked at her watch and bolted for the garage, leaving the costumes behind.
“Emma!”
She turned in the doorway, grabbed the bag he held out with Becky’s costume in it and raced out, doing her best to ignore his chuckles. She shoved the bag in the car, opened the garage door and darted back inside.
Max turned, confused as she barreled back into the house at Mach speed. He managed to catch her as she threw herself at him, wrapping her legs around his waist. She pulled his startled face close and kissed him soundly. “Bye!” she yelled as she dropped out of his hold and ran back out the door again, the picture of his stunned, happy face and silly grin staying with her the entire way to work.
“You expect me to wear that?” Becky stared at the costume Emma had laid out on the Victorian sofa in Wallflowers with something akin to horror. “Emma, I thought Max was Zorro. Are you sure you want me to match his costume?”
Emma grinned; Becky was one of the few people who knew about her hook-up with Max. “Max isn’t going as Zorro. That was a smokescreen he threw up to keep Livia at bay. Trust me, you won’t match Max tonight.”
Becky paled as Emma’s slight emphasis on Max’s name registered. “Tell me Simon isn’t going as Zorro.”
“Simon isn’t going as Zorro,” Emma deadpanned, already inching her way towards the door.
“Emma!” Becky shrieked, totally horrified.
Emma stopped. “Becky, you’ve been dancing around your attraction for Simon for months, probably years! And you know what? I think he’s just as attracted to you as you are to him! So, why don’t you go for it?”
“You know the type of women Simon goes for! Hell, I know for a fact where he’s been. You think I want to boldly go where everyone else has gone before?”
“Simon hasn’t dated in months, Becks.”
“That’s a lie, Emma. He went out with Belinda just last week!”
“Nope, he didn’t. You have got to stop listening to what those two say, Becky! Trust me, I have inside information. The night Simon was supposed to be with Belinda he was with Max!” Becky looked unconvinced. “Look, let’s try and figure this out logically, okay?”
“Okay,” Becky drawled reluctantly. She seated herself gingerly on the sofa next to the sprawled out Zorro outfit and watched Emma pace.
“Fact one: Livia Patterson is a class-A bitch. Yes or no?”
“Yes.”
“Fact two: Belinda Campbell is also a class-A bitch. Yes or no?”
“Yes.” Becky sighed impatiently.
“Fact three: Livia and Belinda hate our guts for some obscure reason, possibly to do with the fact that cherry punch is a bitch to get out of white satin. Yes or no?”
“Yes.”
“Fact four: Livia and Belinda are both interested in making sure no other woman gets either Max or Simon. Yes or no?”
Becky looked uncomfortable. She bit her lip, suddenly uncertain. “Yes?”
Emma snorted. “Trust me, when Livia finds out I’ve hooked up with Max she’s going to shit a brick.”
Emma waved off Becky’s sputtering, startled laugh with a small frown. “Belinda is just as bad, but she wants Simon.”
“So?”
“So, from what I’ve heard, and seen, I should add, Simon seems to want you.”
Becky blinked. “You know, I’ve heard they’ve got some pretty good outreach programs for drug abusers. You should look into them.”
Emma sighed. “Becky, the man made his Madonna look just like you. Only smiling and happy instead of grouchy. So maybe it doesn’t look exactly like you.”
“Har-de-har-har. Seriously, Emma, Simon’s never shown a lick of interest. And, frankly, knowing where his tongue has been I’m not certain I want him licking me.”
Emma eyed Becky with disgust. “Quit making excuses, Becky. Wear the costume and see how Simon reacts. If he’s interested, he’ll let you know.”
“And if he isn’t interested?”
Emma grinned. “Somehow I don’t think you need to worry about that.” Ignoring Becky’s sudden blush, Emma headed out the door. She’d made an appointment to have her hair done for the masquerade and she had no intention of missing it.
The gossip in the salon was running fast and furious. None of the women there knew about her hooking up with Max yet, so a lot of the gossip fluttered around who the town’s hottest hunks were taking to the masquerade. Some believed Max was taking Livia, a rumor Livia herself skillfully confirmed without actually confirming anything. Emma had a hard time keeping her snorts of amusement to herself. Max wanted no one to get wind of their relationship until the masquerade when she would enter on his arm; otherwise she would have taken great delight in setting Livia straight. Everyone agreed Simon was the wildcard; no one had any clue who he’d be taking, although Livia tried to make it sound like he’d be taking Belinda. Since Emma knew for a fact that Simon was flying solo, she kept her mouth shut.
Adrian Giordano was also rumored to be flying solo, something Emma could have confirmed but didn’t.
There were a few other men the women were interested in, but she didn’t know those men personally so she just closed her eyes, relaxed into the stylist’s chair and let the rumors fly over her head.
“And, of course, we all know Becky will be taking Emma.” Emma popped one eye open to see Livia smirking at her. She did the one thing she knew would piss the woman off the most. She smiled serenely and closed her eyes, ignoring her for the rest of her appointment.
Max walked into the house a half an hour late. He had very little time to get showered and dressed before the masquerade, and the quickie he’d been hoping to indulge in wasn’t going to happen. The Pride Alpha couldn’t be late, especially when he planned on introducing his Curana to the rest of the Pride for the first time.
“Max?”
“Hey, sweetheart.” Max put his briefcase down next to the sofa and headed for the bedroom, pulling his tie off as he went. “How’d your…day…go…”
Emma stood in the middle of the bedroom in the pirate outfit he’d picked out for her. The skirt hit her mid-thigh, just as he’d predicted. The boots hit her just below her knee, showing off an awful lot of skin.
The thigh-high stockings were nowhere in evidence, not that she needed them. She’d had her hair styled in a half up, half down thing, with curls and twists she normally didn’t have, framing her face beautifully.
The frilly captain’s hat was the icing on the cake.
Her makeup was a little darker and richer than she normally wore. The pale rose lip gloss she preferred had been exchanged for a darker shade, closer to wine. Her eyes were dark and smoky. Thick gold hoops adorned her ears and around her neck was a stylized golden cat. She stood with her hands behind her, an uncertain look on her face, the toe of one boot digging into the carpet as she looked at herself in the full-length mirror she’d moved from her apartment. She looked like a confection just waiting to be eaten. “Max?”