The slow thrum of music ended. The DJ picked up with a foot-stomping, linedance beat. Still moving slowly, Nick’s arms wrapped around her, they were in the way.
He dragged her off the dance floor, keeping a tight hold on her wrist. Leaning close, his breath bathed her cheek. “If I take you home with me, do I get to know your name?”
“Bastard.” Max stumbled as she pulled back, tugging against his grip. “Let go of me.”
“Do you tell any of those guys your name?”
She jerked free. “Don’t ever put your hands on me again.”
“Only when you beg.”
She thought about slapping him, but he might have liked the challenge. She settled for a man-hating glare.
He spread his hands. “Hey, I thought you wanted to accuse me of murdering Wendy.”
“Did you kill her?” she snapped back.
“Why don’t you stick around and find out?”
Max grabbed her purse from the table where she’d left it. Stupid, someone could have ripped it off, and so engrossed with him, she’d never have seen. She backed away, unwilling to take her eyes off him in case he tried to grab her. “I don’t hang around with murderers after dark.”
“But do you sleep with them?”
Her skin turned alternately hot, then cold with his words.
He raised a brow. “No, I forgot. You only pick up urban cowboys. Much safer that way. Except for sexually transmitted diseases. But there’s condoms for that, isn’t there?”
Why did everyone keep bringing up—yeah, the detective—STDs with her? As if she wasn’t quite clean in some way.
That was probably exactly how Nick saw her. Unclean. Tainted. Diseased. He knew her secret. He knew her shame. He knew her. “Get away from me.”
“Till we meet again, Max Starr.” He’d known her name all along.
She’d totally lost control of the whole info-mode thing.
Her heart pounding, Max did something totally in conflict with her goal of finding Wendy’s killer.
She ran away.
*
“What does he want from me?” Max lay in her claw-foot tub, steam rising into the air, perfumed bubbles up to her chin, her handmade gardenia soap—one of her few indulgences—in the tray beside her. She’d turned the lights off, lit scented candles and lined them up along the tile wainscoting. The mixture of flowers and vanilla intoxicated her. So did the memory of Nicholas Drake’s hands on her body as he held her close, rubbing his cock against her. She was sure Wendy Gregory was somehow influencing her.
“Sex,” Cameron said.
“What?”
“He wants sex.”
“I’m serious. He has ulterior motives.”
“I’m serious, too. I think you should give it to him.”
“You’re out of your mind.”
“Why? You give it to every other Tom, Dick, and Harry that can dance the pants off you.”
“That’s really a low blow.” Nor was it true. It wasn’t every Tom, Dick, and Harry. It wasn’t even that often. Why couldn’t he understand that sometimes she just had to get out or...die?
She was glad when Cameron didn’t seem to hear the thought, or at least ignored it. He merely went on needling her about Nick. He was just dying to pick a fight. “You want him bad, sweetheart. I know all your little signals.”
“Stop it.”
“The dreamy, half-closed lids. The quickened breath. The hardened nipples. The sweet little moan in your throat.”
“I didn’t moan.”
“Don’t deny it. You’re wet, and you’re hot, baby. I can feel it. And this time it’s not for the macho detective.” The water swirled gently around her.
She slapped the gardenia bubbles as if he were next to her. “What do you expect? Of course, I’m hot and wet. I’m in a steaming bath.”
“Why didn’t you just fuck his brains out the way you’ve been fantasizing for the last fifteen minutes? He was offering.”
“Hey.” She sat up, water and bubbles streaming down her breasts. “You know damn well that was all about Wendy’s emotions.”
“Sex. That’s what it’s all about, what it was always about. Even with me. You always called it sex, Max, never making love.”
Her body chilled in the steamy bathroom. She couldn’t deny his accusations, but nor could she answer them. “Where is all this coming from? Why are you so angry?”
“Did we ever make love, Max?” His voice was a whisper in the air, soft as a teardrop on her cheek.
She closed her eyes, breathed deep. “Of course we did.”
“Then how can having sex with strangers replace what we had?”
It couldn’t. It never had. It only kept her warm for a little while. The way it had before she’d ever met Cameron. She’d never had a relationship before him, just...casual sex. She’d given all that up for him. He left her anyway, even if it wasn’t his fault.
“A woman has needs,” she whispered. The need to feel flesh-and-blood arms around her.